Chapter Text
08:55-16/02/2015
Stomping towards her job at the ACE chemicals Dr Pamela Lillian Isley lets out an exhausted sigh. It’s only Monday, and she is already having a shitty week.
Sniffling she tells herself it’s from the cold and not a vestige of last night's tears from catching her girlfriend cheating on her. Pamela had hoped to surprise Bella by taking the long trek to her apartment, with a huge bunch of Valentine's Day flowers. Instead walking in on Bella fucking some younger, more confident woman had been a surprise for all three of them. Her ex not even noticing the gift she brought her. Pam thinking Last time I make a fucking surprise romantic gesture.
Pam had really thought she loved her, thought they could be happy together, thought they already were! Bella never even apologised, obviously Pam wasn’t worth that. A cold rejection if there ever was one. The worst part was that they were back at it before she even left the apartment. Hearing laughing and kissing again as she slammed the door shut for good.
The corrosive rage from all that was still here on this chilly morning.
Burning inside her, keeping her warm in the wintry chill. Drowning out the sadness and heartbreak. Pam slams her ID card down on the gate pad. Storming past the security guards, boiling inside her head, busy seething in her own little world.
The huge concrete skyscraper as ugly on the inside as it was on the outside. Run by tax evading suits and making bioweapons and genetic engineering Pam thought it was everything that was wrong with Gotham.
Her crappy desk job was hard enough to get motivated for on the best of days. She knew she would be getting fuck all done today. All she could think about was finding her girlfriend laughing and rolling naked in her bed with some stranger.
Why am I such a powerless pushover? I thought she was the one. I'm never falling for that again. Can my lovelife get any worse?
Pam looks around the drab office building, sadly thinking Yes, it can. No chance to meet a new girlfriend in this place, it's all men.
Not for the first time Pam wished there were more women in STEM jobs.
Pam keeps on running over what she should have said to Bella and her new lover instead of letting herself get dumped like a sack of shit.
Everything they’d had and done together was spoiled, rotten, putrid.
All their favourite places and their favourite activities.
That's the last time I buy someone flowers.
That's the last time I make a selfless gesture.
That’s the last time I go down on anyone.
That's the last time I care about anybody else's feelings.
I'm not doing a fucking thing for another person ever again! people fucking suck! The world sucks. We are a fucking poison! I should stop being so fucking sweet and show people not to treat me like dirt. Isley reaches a hateful epiphany.
Silently ranting to herself while marching to her office in the biolabs department. Not feeling up to stopping today to be negged, hit on or undermined by any of the pigs she worked with. Not much had changed from elementary school where she had been bullied mercilessly by the boys for her red hair and then the later years of high school where she had been hit on by the boys almost daily, sometimes it was the exact same boys too. Before she could reach the safety of her desk her supervisor Doctor Jason Woodrue successfully managed to corner her. To tell her that the trials of their latest mutagens on pigs had been successful.
“All dead now of course.” Using the encounter as another excuse to leer at her chest
Pam sarcastically tries to brush him off with
“Well, that's great.” Marching off already, trying to pretend she didn't hear him chuckle in with “Maybe you want to grab some roast pork after work with me?”
Jason knows full well I'm vegan and gay. Unless he really didn't ever listen? Or is he just being an asshole again? Either way he's a pig himself. How many times has he hit on me now?
.
Pam at last gets into the open plan office and grabs her lab coat from its peg on the rack near the door.
The office is a dull box, a cage. Walls plastered with soulless corporate artwork.
And filled with mostly empty desks this early in the morning.
logging on to her PC and sighs, bored already. Yet another unfulfilling day.
The sooner this crappy computer system warms up the sooner I can get into the jungle with my plants and do some real work. I'll feel better then.
The biolab they nicknamed “the jungle” is at the very back of the office right behind Pam who’d purposefully chosen to sit there. It’s a glass walled room full of ACE’s most valuable experiments. Like a lab and vault all in one. Electronically sealed with a passcode lock. Stuffed so full of plants, creepers, rare orchids, overgrown mushrooms, and algae it had well earned its nickname. Only thing spoiling it for Pam was the fact they also stored all their worst and most toxic products in the fridges and test tube racks in there.
Pam hates the crimes ACE commit daily in their toxic greed, but at least working in the field of genetically modified plants meant she could help impoverished farmers' crops grow faster or replace hacked down forests or increase the potency of certain medicines. Still every day she felt like a fraud. Having been such an activist in college. My old eco-warrior friends would spit on me now, but I have rent to pay and houseplants to water.
Plus, it's not like she didn't hate the CEO, her co-workers and everything else the tax evading, polluting mega-corporation did. The only thing that kept her going was the thought of being able to put her time served at ACE on any CV or grant application she wrote in the future. Which would open doors way faster than fucking her way to the top.
Checking her red hair in her computer screens that had already faded from her inactivity. Today she was wearing her usual large glasses with the thick black frames
her hair done in a messy bun. Underneath her white lab coat was a crisp white shirt and dark jeans. The coat was marked not even with her name but instead her rank -Botanist in the Gotham division of ACE Chemicals.
Not as big and important a job as she had hoped when she graduated Gotham University summa cum laude, but it was a start. One day I will move on and work for a company that isn't so fucking toxic and harmful to the environment.
Sat at her desk in a huff still scowling and still brooding over everything. Her hatred only brewing and boiling, she dares her PC to crash or lag today. Basking in her anger looking for an excuse to throw it on the floor.
She liked being this mad. Not giving a shit for once made a change. She felt she was on the verge of a big epiphany. Her whole life's attitude had gotten her right here.
Will you ever get another girlfriend Pam? You're in your mid-thirties and you just wasted years on someone who can't even be bothered to dump you properly.
Bella had completely broken her heart How the fuck could she? That cunt!
Fuck her! Fuck relationships and fuck Valentine's Day! Just a made-up exercise in corporate greed anyway. I ought to burn her whole block down! That would teach her! Before thinking. But you never will Pam, you're weak. Her mind chiding her.
No wonder Bella laughed at you. No wonder she ground you under her heel last night. From now on I need to demand the respect I'm owed.
The unusual hubbub in the building grows. She could hear vague distant yelling.
No more dating for me. My vibrator only and maybe one-night stands from now on
Fuck Bella! she doesn’t deserve my body anyway! I'm way hotter than that slut she was fucking! Aren't I? Vestiges of her crappy childhood meant she had never got the body confidence she was well owed.
She ignored the rising commotion in the office, she couldn’t give a fuck about her ignorant male colleague's chatter. she stuck out like a sore thumb in this company in every way. The boys made sure of it; she was never included. Nothing happened that she could or would report to HR but even if she did. What then? She knew all too well how these big corps worked. It would end her career before it even began.
So, she didn’t stick her head up to see which lame brain loser had wandered in from another department to brag (or lie) about his latest sporting or sexual accomplishments to his friends.
She easily ignores the first scream. Then the second.
But when she heard her Woodrue screaming in fear like a little girl she finally shot up, not believing her eyes!
It was Harley Quinn! With the Joker's goons following her!
Striding around the office like she owned the place,
Storming past her colleagues and in the distance the security guards who were either dead or unconscious. Pam felt just like when she had when she had seen Uma Thurman, a split second where she thought she must be wrong but nope, a real celebrity actually is here!
This can't really be happening! Peering at her both nervous and starstruck from in between her two computer screens. The Joker’s hired thugs all in purple suits were busy corralling all her co-workers into a corner together with their rifles.
No one had noticed her yet, panicking and looking pathetically at her desk as if she had an automatic rifle or some other means of defending herself, against the most dangerous woman in Gotham lying amongst her stationery. but no, she was totally useless.
Harley sent a chill up her spine as she began calling “Heya nerds! Come out, come out wherever you are!”
Amazingly some more actually came and were shoved into the corner along with the rest by the coat rack. Now Pam was all alone.
Harley began firing her revolver manically into the ceiling and walls. Laughing maniacally as she did it. Drunk on the violence and the thrill of how smoothly the heist was unfolding.
She cheers, confirming that this brief violence was softening up the shivering mass of scientists she had taken prisoner.
Regaining her composure, she giggles at the wide-eyed office drones shaking with fear at her, the rampant clown.
Now having control of the room and having had some fun, she hops onto a desk to make her demands.
“Alright now settle down boys! Me and Mista J are just here for the bioweapon sample thingys! Hand em over nice and polite and I might just let ya go!”
Pointing her revolver at Jason, recognising him as the most senior and surely the highest-ranking guy in the room and demanding “Where are they?”
Quivering, he caved at once pointing to the bulletproof wall of glass at the back of the lab behind Pamela.
Pam somewhat enjoyed how scared he sounded even from where she was.
Pam ducks under her desk in desperation, hoping Harley would not see her as she began strutting confidently up the aisle.
Getting to the locked door Harley casually tries shooting the glass but the bullet lodges barely a millimetre into the thick panel.
Harley folds her arms and begins tapping her foot, before loudly demanding “The passcode!” Without even turning round.
Cowering Jason gives it up immediately, blurting it out without a fight.
Skipping inside, Harley seems to know what she’s looking for. Yanking some of the most valuable tubes out of the lab's mini fridge.
Ivy realises she is trapped, with almost no chance Harley wouldn't spot her on the way back. Turning away unable to face her, hopefully the criminal wouldn’t spot her shivering form against her chair. I should be taking action but it's probably best to just hide and hope for the best.
Harley easily spots another lab rat hiding their desk on her way out the room.
All she could see was her tight ass shaking and waving her tight lab coat flush against her dark grey jeans. Exposed between her chair and her desk.
.
Harley admires her skinny frame and perky quivering butt, feeling a little distracted in the middle of the heist. She places the tubes on a desk. Before mockingly calling
“Ooh Hey, there nerd! Why dontcha Come out to play!”
It was a command not a request but still Pam didn't move in vain hope. The goons were all busy corralling the others, so Harley had to drag her out by herself. Pam only wants to shrivel up and die as soon as Harley grips her arm.
This is it. I'm dead.
Harley laughs “Ha hi there ginge.” Pushing Pam up against her desk. The blonde thinks She looks kinda cute with that red hair and those dorky glasses too.
Pam instantly petrified from seeing the infamous criminal Harley Quinn up close and in the flesh for the first time. When drunk she would admit to Harley Quinn being her top celebrity crush. She had always seemed like the carefree badass Pam always wished she could be. Cool, and popular on certain websites, a skilled criminal flouting all the laws, a rebel, an icon. Harley has it all, even a famous lover and partner in crime. She was jealous to be honest, but that didn't mean she ever wanted to meet her.
Harley is dressed in a red and black leather crop top that was so small it was really just a large leather sports bra. Showing Pam far more than she'd seen in her wildest dreams. More than she’d dared hope for. She could not help but stare in awe and terror. Harley was used to both.
It was hard for Pam to reconcile her terror with her silly crush on the infamous criminal. Despite everything her long standing fixation worms its way to the surface even now. Harley was a she-wolf circling her prey, but Pam couldn’t help but be aware of her beauty. Unwillingly admiring the hump of her boobs clearly visible under the tight fabric she is so sexy. Her bellybutton almost winking at her from her exposed and bleached chest.
Pam peeks at her impressive long pink and blue pigtails.
Stumbling against a desk Pam ended up ogling the famous criminals' bare legs; she couldn’t help herself; she was even sexier in the flesh.
Her psychotic grin aimed right at her. As well as a very lethal and chunky revolver.
The sight of that quickly sobering her up
just comply and stay on her good side. If the Joker is around, I shouldn’t dare try to escape. It would be best to not draw any more attention to myself. Pam chides herself. Besides the office was far too big, and the goons were far too many she was powerless. Her intellect told her that even all her colleagues together could not overpower them
Harley had her non-lethal grenade launcher shouldered, and her baseball bat temporarily holstered. But she was still in control.
“Naughty, naughty ya shouldn't try to hide from me and Mista J!” her mocking tone suddenly became softer “You don't wanna know what he’d do to you if he caught ya tryna hide!”
Pam turns to go and join the others when Harley began giggling as an exciting idea popped into her head
“Nuh uh Nerd!” She announces, grabbing her shoulder, spinning her easily and waving the gun in her face.
“Gonna have to punish ya a little.” Quivering, Pam deflates, resigning herself to whatever happened. screwing her eyes shut.
Harley reaches out with her spare hand and gives Pam’s butt a good hard squeeze.
Surprising her with the manhandling she’d been expecting something far more fatal. Opening her eyes curiously now gawping at Harley. Who kept on rubbing her ass. "Come on be a good little hostage"
A despondent Pam didn't like where this was going and began begging “Please I’ll sit with the others just let me go.”
Certain that Harley could or would read her stupid crush on her face or in her voice.
“Not a chance missy.” Harley was eager to prove herself to Mista J and the grizzled goons and she had found an easy target. The more she struggles the more turned-on Harley gets. Kinda reminding Harley of herself when Mista J got mad. “I'm not done with you yet.”
Harley pulls off her white lab coat for her and throws it away. Filling Pam’s stomach with butterflies. Harley likes how tight the pristine shirt was against Pamela's figure, practically transparent now since she was sweating in fear. This is what mister J would do right? Just live in the moment and take what you want?
“Like what you see?” Harley spreads her arms wide displaying herself. Putting on a show hoping the goons were watching at least.
Pamela stares in horror and wonder. Oh god I do! I really do. She is so fit. Just my type if she wasn't a murderer.
“Cos, I do. "Harley finished.
Pam gawps, her mouth wide open like a goldfish. No idea what the hell is going on anymore. Harley is truly insane. Pam has absolutely no idea what the clown would do next. Harley was capable of anything; nothing was off limits. This must be a nightmare.
Pam knew all about the Joker's reputation and she was rightfully too scared to move as though Harley might forget her if she stayed perfectly still. Rubbing then groping her firm ass cheeks through her jeans. Purposefully sliding deliberate fingers across her denim clad ass unnerving Pam even more.
“Strip off that shirt.” commands the clowness. “I wanna see ya tits cutie.”
This is a nightmare “Please just let me go!” How can I ever come back from this? She felt like crying, she couldn’t get a word out there was a lump in her throat. She wanted to puke.
she wanted for Harley to kill her and spare her this torture.
Pamela begins desperately unbuttoning her own shirt. Hoping obedience would sate Harley. Who helps yank off her shirt, the gun briefly pressing into Pam’s soft pale belly.
“Boys are ya watching?” She calls out to her tame thugs, not Pam’s colleagues although they were all looking anyway.
Harley stares at Pam’s well-rounded boobs in her plain bra
“Not bad.” nodding at her chest, she means it.
Pam was dry sobbing, chest heaving and sniffling. This was all too much for her.
Harley wanted to go further and pull off that bra, but she finds she just couldn't.
People don't sob like this when we just rob them; nobody normally looks this cute and this pathetic. This aint funny Mista J. Covering for her own growing unease she fidgets nervously.
“Aww look at ya! Tell ya what, I'll let you go if you gimme a kiss.”
Anything to end this! What else can I do? It's not like she is unattractive…
Pam leans in, pecking Harley with her pouted lips sealed tight as possible like Harley's lips were her sour old grandmother's cheek.
Instead, they are invitingly soft and plump and coated in flavoured lipstick that makes her head swim. Harley's true scent is masked by the finest and expensive (stolen) perfume. Harley's lips gave in to the soft kiss so easily, like they were starved of them.
Pam quickly pulls away; like she burns. More likely because Harley’s lips could easily envelop her like a warm pool. Pam grimaces too as if she hates kissing women. Heart pounding, face burning with a sudden blood rush. She realises Harley never really told her the consequences of denying her she had just complied.
“That’s not a kiss.” Declares Harley.
Licking her own lip-sticked lips. then gripping one side of Pam’s face and forcibly pulling her in for a heavier hungrier smooch. Making Pam’s eyes bulge, this was the last thing she had anticipated.
Unbidden, her hands rose slightly whether to slap Harley or grope back; she wasn’t sure, luckily, she did neither, hands merely freezing in place. Attacking her would mean death and letting onto her own crush would be worse than death.
Harley kept smearing her lips against Pam’s taking a good long kiss from her. Kissing her just the way Harleen wished she could be kissed. Spreading herself across Pam's mouth. Somehow Harley sneaks her tongue inside Pam. Pushing in and playing with Pamela’s.
Quickly following that up by licking all around her mouth. Making Pam despair I can't believe this! Can she tell I'm into women? Please don't go any further! Fretting in her head, leave me alone! Pam, desperate for somewhere to put her hands. yearning to give in to it. Harley is actually kissing me! but this isn't how she wanted it. Sexually humiliated yet again.
Harley on the other hand was loving this! Her eyes closed; she thinks all I want right now is a good taste of this cute scientist babe! Moving her grip Harley was grabbing handfuls of her shirt with one hand, still forcefully French kissing, and groping Pamela. Who still had to resist the urge to grope back. Though she couldn't help but kiss back sinking into those easy lips willingly. unable to believe she was kissing Harley Quinn!
Physically it feels amazing, mentally Pam feels awful she will never live this down.
Made a weak pushover again! Everyone can see me! Harley likes this, making this cute nerd, her bitch. Controlling someone else the way Mister J could control her.
c'mon kiss me back more. Harley thinks.
prodding the gun into Pam’s chest hoping she gets the message.
Pam dares to take the tiniest lick of her own; it felt unnatural to be kissed and not kiss back; it was part reflex and part desire. Of her own free will she touches tongues with Harley.
The pleasurable sensation of the kiss begins to outgrow her own fear, embarrassment, and reluctance, without thinking she leans in imperceptibly. She knew who she was kissing and why, accepting her lips and tongue.
It's nice to be wanted again even if this is a terrorist.
Harley rubs her body with her gun hand now too, Reminding Pam that she is still a hostage.
Finally, Harley mercifully relents, ripping away, releasing the doctor from her lip-lock smiling at the blushing Pam who looked both shocked and saddened. One of her sexual fantasies had become unpleasant reality in all the wrong ways.
Remembering where she was, Pam spun to look at all her co-workers; they had all seen her getting kissed by Harley Quinn. She couldn’t read their faces; they still all feared for their lives, but people had seen her! This was the worst thing she could have ever imagined! Her own secret crush publicly humiliating her!
mmm that felt so naughty. So heartfelt I needed it. thought Harley but aloud she says
“Meh I’ve had better.” Before bursting into giggles.
Knowing for sure that the redhead's tongue had freely rubbed hers. Holding on to that fact. Harley begins giggling even harder, shooting into another octave. After she saw that their violent smooch had left Pam’s nipples mortifyingly hard against her tight bra
"Enjoy that?! Hahahaha!"
Indeed, part of her had, she would not admit it, but Harley was a rather passionate kisser. Pam says nothing trying to stonewall her. maintaining a poker face even as she blushes as red as the queen of hearts. Turning a deeper crimson than she ever had.
“Cos I sure did.”
Then Harley notices how red Pam's eyes are and how her lip is quivering. For once Harley feels guilty. Maybe I went too far. Are the boys impressed at least? Both their trains of thought are interrupted when they hear the Joker's unmistakable voice over Harley's walkie talkie.
“Come in, Harley.” He orders” I’ve emptied all the vaults. Do you have the products? Over.” Unintentionally rescuing Pam from any more awkward moments.
“I sure do Puddin! And guess what else I just did for you too! I got this nerdy chick and I made her-”
“I’ll see you at the rendezvous then dear! Over and out!”
Harley turns to face Pam, dejectedly clicking off the Walkie-Talkie, forcing a big smile. Feeling like she wasted her time and hurt a sweet little cinnamon roll for no reason. Was it all for nothing? Maybe he wants me to go bigger but I just can't do that to her. I don't feel like he does. I'm not crazy enough for him. Bank robbin and car chases are easy and fun! But that was…. Bad. That just ain’t me.
"I gotta go now! See ya later Science Slut”" Harley waves goodbye covering up the guilty ache in her gut, hips swinging as she struts away. Leaving Pam, a half-naked ruin.
Harley angrily smashes every computer screen and desk phone in her path out.
Baseball bat sending glass and keyboard keys flying in a visceral display.
Pam's lipstick is smeared, cheeks burning and prickling. Mascara beginning to run as built-up tears flowed freely. But inside she was forging a burning hatred for weakness. crushes, love and herself. No more of this shit Pam you're like a child. Get over yourself it’s not gonna get you a tenure or a huge grant at Wayne Enterprises. Coldly imparting a vital life lesson.
She snidely tells herself Things can always get worse. At long last collapsing into her office chair. Soon the GCPD showed up to rescue them all and secure the crime scene, but it was far too late for her.
The only mercy is she had managed to redress in time and didn’t have to speak to Commissioner Gordon in her underwear, that would have just been the cherry on top of the worst day (so far) in her shitty life. Commissioner Gordon had been really curious to double check if there was any footage of her getting stripped and kissed. Like way too curious.
Pam and all the other ACE employees spent the rest of the day being interviewed. After they had interrogated her, she finally got to go home to her drab apartment and cry. Once that was done, she didn’t feel like eating or moving either, so she lay on the couch hoping to be dead.
Thinking of Harley's cruel joke, she reckons Harley crazier than the Joker himself. Flipping on the pre-installed smart TV to distract herself, failing at that too, finding herself unable to look away from the endless footage from CNN about the heist. She doesn't have the energy for getting up and cleaning her drab room. Her need to water her plants nags at her but for once they can wait.
The task of finding all of Bella's stuff and trashing it could be something to look forward to though. She feels especially hateful this evening. In her messed-up state the footage of Vikki Vale droning on, sends her hand slipping down to her crotch, she absentmindedly begins rubbing herself through the denim.
Soon realising There's only one way to regain control and salvage today. She thinks while unzipping her jeans and popping the button open, making space for her hand.
She puts some porn up on the flat screen. Hoping to calm down, not even bothering to take off the rest of her clothes. She reaches down and begins to rub herself feeling mildly better already.
Looking rather ditzy in her glasses and messy bun and her rumpled clothes as she flicks her bean. The only way she can think of regaining some power and making herself feel any better.
A vision of Harley keeps popping into her head while watching a tender girl on girl coupling on the screen.
Pam should hate Harley, and she does. but having been that close to her, finding out she was more gorgeous than any mugshot or TV camera could ever show. Well it messed up her, up swirling her feelings round and round.
Being that close to an infamous celebrity. It was crazy in its own right, kind of dizzying to think she had survived an encounter with The Harley Quinn!
Still wondering to herself but why did she have to kiss me? Pam is confused, desperate for something that makes sense.
She couldn’t stop thinking about her if only she could have kissed her back the way she had really wanted to. To pull her in close and....
“Fuck!” Pam realises she has no choice now she was halfway there already
Disgusted at herself but at least this will get her out of my head though I'll need to watch something hot to help me get over being a hostage. That at least is something I can control. As much as she tries to focus on the flatscreen she keeps drifting back to that red and black strapped belly top. Rubbing more angrily now, forcing herself to stare at the coupling on the screen. But still dreaming of brightly coloured pigtails.
Gaze drifting over the messy room. Nah I can't even think of doing any of my chores right now or making dinner or cleaning up. I must do this first. Basically, glued to the couch, hand kneading away inside her open jeans. Her breath began to catch. Her wrist aches. She ploughs onward.
Feeling bored with all the familiar choices for videos, instead she pictures bold painted fingernails, dark cherry lips, and electric blue eyes highlighted with blue and pink eyeshadow. Pam groans in frustration at her own lack of focus rather than pleasure. Trying once more to enjoy the porn and forget the clown.
Pam dutifully keeps at it, rubbing one out. Pulling her jeans down a bit more before slipping a hand under her bra. Reminiscing Harley's soft touch. Trying to match and replace it with her own. Squeezing a nipple. Not in the right mood at all but she needs this!
She takes it out on her body, an outlet not just for her usual daily frustrations but also her insolent hostage experience. Feeling too comfy and too tired to go get her magic wand. Pam rubs, rubs, rubs willing it. Poking at her nub searching for any good feelings she can invoke. To fill her cold miserable body.
As Cos I sure did echoes through her mind one final time. Pam cums into her hand, bucking while trying to sit still on the sofa.
“Urgggh!” She sighs ungraciously.
One of the least satisfying orgasms she has ever had. At least it was all done, and Harley Quinn was gone. Withdrawing her soaked hand from her now sticky jeans.
At least I can forget about our kiss now. I'd never tell a soul it wasn’t for all my co-workers seeing. God! Pam, you are so pathetic! I hate Harley Quinn! I hate ACE. I hate the Joker and I hate myself for this. Pam, you need to get a fucking grip!
“That's I swear You’re gonna quit that shitty, exploitative company tomorrow.”
“Hey there Pamela, I gotta talk to you about the-Oy! Isley! I didn’t need to see that!” The voice of her landlord Sy Borgman shocks Pam out of her sprawling stupor on the couch. Sy had walked in on her! Pam instantly flicks off the screen, too late to save herself from the indignity or to hide the noisy porn she’d been watching. Things can always get worse. She sadly reminds herself as her landlord rolls away, beating a rapid retreat outside.
Pam steams back into work on Tuesday, a woman on a mission.
Why the next day? One-she was going to show she was not ashamed or afraid anymore.
Two-she was going to quit today and find a better job no matter how much less it paid. At least she could be true to herself even if she would not get paid as much
Maybe I can sell some of my stuff to make ends meet. And cut down on buying any more succulents. And no more dating.
In the corridor she barges past that lanky dickweed Jonathan “Johnny” Crane
He was a creep on the best of days.
She ignores the snickering from Jason as she storms to her desk. Too busy immediately submitting her final notice to the HR dept. Ignoring her other emails and in-tray.
“Hey Pamela?” calls Jason while sipping from his mug of coffee.
“Not another word Jason-I quit. The robbery yesterday was the final straw. I hate it here. I hate you and I hate this company and its soul crushing corporate culture. I'd rather work somewhere else with less risk of being held hostage. And maybe somewhere where my boss isn't a snivelling coward who betrays all the company's secrets without so much as a pistol whipping.”
Jason had been all ready to mock her until she pointed that fact out and he blushed a deep crimson and shut up, swallowing his pride.
“Um-well- you- err got your leavers documents yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Well while you're still here, you can go into the jungle and check up on your projects.” Admitting “You always were our best botanist.” paying her the first compliment that didn't mention her looks that she had ever heard from him.
Sighing “Ugh fine.” Pamela had nothing better to do now anyway
She gets up and walks into the safe room after putting in her code.
Once inside talking to herself she murmurs “I will kinda miss this place at least.”
Where else could I work with such rare and beautiful plants? and understand them on a cellular level? They have so much more to teach me! Wanting to say goodbye to them as opposed to any of her so-called co-workers.
Doing her last duties checking the growth of one of her special Poppies that produces more morphine than a dozen regular ones. Happily finding out that her sample of modified Ginseng was growing at an exponential rate. That could be useful to somebody eventually if big pharma doesn’t find a way to fuck it up first jotting down her findings on her clipboard for the last time when after hearing a faint bang through the glass.
She sees Jason and Crane and another lab rat whose name she never even got to learn holding up their phones to the glass, grainy video footage of her forced kiss with Harley Quinn playing on every screen. All of them laughing and pointing at her.
“Fuck!” she screams hoarsely They do have footage of it! Somebody must have been recording subtly while corralled in the corner. The cops seeing it would be one thing they could catch that bitchy Bonnie and maybe her Clyde too. But her douche bro colleagues…
They would post it to twitter or live Leak and It would go viral, billions would flock to see Harley Quinn the Clown Princess of Crime making out. Only Pam would be the butt of the joke. Oh shit! they could actually ruin my life.
“Fuck you guys!” She flips them off
“Never kissed anyone before is that it?” not her best insult but she is too pissed off for a rapport!
They still jeer at her safe across the glass like she is a zoo exhibit.
Like it was the funniest thing in the world. Why can't I ever be free of these assholes?
Before she knows what, she is doing, she is hurling a rack of test tubes full of root samples in various super fertilisers at them. The rack bounces off while the tubes explode against the glass.
Her futile gesture of hate didn't scare them at all in fact they were laughing harder and that made her hate them even more. Picking up another vial of some pheromone extracting enzyme. Hurling it at their stupid faces.
Like eventually she could break down the glass or that they might take her seriously
An idea comes to her, and she looks for the most valuable thing she can find. Before she knew it, she was throwing the DOD’s commissioned pheromone control project.
Spraying it up the wall in a fine mist. Sadly, her co-workers just lost it even harder; they had no idea that she was quitting and thought she had not only just gotten herself fired as well as sued to hell and back. Worth it to knock the military industrial complex back for a few years. Realising she was definitely getting sued now.
I might as well as keep going. Every tube smashed is a few points off ACES stock prices. Pam recognises with a happy jolt Holy shit I'm an activist again!
They didn't bother trying to stop her, now still busy cackling.
It was their work, but it wasn't their money.
Smashing more and more vials, Pam really gets into it now. Feeling unstoppable. she leaves all the ones that could do good in the world. Having made most of the beneficial ones she knew which to avoid. Like she's holding the power of life and death. Abruptly they stop smiling. Pam sees as much through the soaking ballistic glass. Suddenly she looks back only now noticing why, when it's all too late.
In her blind rage she had been thrown one of their own prototype bioweapons!
A cold weight settles in her stomach. She had thrown a tub full of fatal neurotoxin.
Pam looked around at the jungle realising it would be her tomb.
“Oh Fuck!”
She finds surprising ease accepting death. Sighing with deep resignation.
Her life wasn't worth that much to anyone else or her anymore.
Unlike the vials she had just destroyed which was now about $30,000.000 dollars poured down the drain.
She had wasted too much time in a dead-end job and no friends who were not in prison or not speaking to her until she stopped being a sell-out.
Her parents had been dead for years and dead to her for decades.
No one will miss me she thinks sadly accepting her death.
Though the pain that she knows is coming was petrifying to her. There was nothing she or anyone could do. A chemical spill this big, triggers the auto lock on the door, sealing it shut, so nobody else gets contaminated. Crane frantically trying to input their code to no avail.
Most of her colleagues ran away now. Jason turns to order an office evacuation. There was fuck all they could do for her even if they grabbed a fire axe, they would not get through. Calling an ambulance would be futile, she needs a coroner.
The emergency vent could be triggered but that would kill her too by draining the oxygen.
Poisons, plant extracts and all kinds of genetically modified crap, would now be taking root inside her spreading through her body killing her a dozen times over.
And I’m breathing it all in!
A toxic cocktail, tearing through her like a typhoon. Fighting amongst themselves for the spoils of her own biomass.
Scolding herself thinking Why did we have to make everything so goddamn virulent?
The fumes are already making her woozy, she bends double to cough up blood. Worryingly dark blood. The obvious side effects of exposing yourself to a cocktail of experimental toxins and hybridised plant spores showing themselves. I might have gone too far.
Knees trembling, vomiting profusely as her boiling blood blooms with new life
Her body burns inside and out...
Well done, Pam! You've fucking killed yourself!
Her body crawling with maddening incendiary itching! Her legs give up, sending her crashing into her wheeled hydroponic rack of GM plant samples. Taking her own vines and roses with it.
Lying in a sticky puddle surrounded by broken glass, mud and now useless vacuum seals is not how she had wanted to die.
Splashes of her own experiments stinging and burning on her bare face and hands. The air thick with toxins and chemicals but a foul clinical smell was drowning out all the familiar floral scents. She couldn't hear anything now. Dead silence aside from dripping poisons.
But she could see the panic outside oddly she felt rather calm there was nothing more she could do.
She lies helplessly, barely able to move.
Her mind empty, she falls into near delirium, like she was high on the potent magic mushrooms again. Her chest aching,c her heart pounding so hard she was convinced it was going to burst. Ears ringing so hard she is deaf. Her eyes begin watering from the haze in the air. Now plastered in her own sweat she’s boiling up with fresh fever.
All she can do is stare back at Dr Woodrue through the glass as her vision begins to blur. He is transfixed at the sight of her as she begins to froth at the mouth. Choking on her own breaths. Her body surrendering itself up to the fatal swamp she had made. Her cells metamorphosing. DNA twisting till it snaps.
Her last act on earth was watching him sadly shake his head, turn away and pull the emergency vent and the fire alarm.
Then the woman known as Pamela Isley died.
Notes:
I hope you liked it?
I know what Harley did was wrong but I wanted to try something new with them.
please leave a comment as I have never written a story this long before.
and feedback would really spur me on to finish!
but chapters 2 and 3 are coming very soon!
Chapter 2: Interlude
Summary:
this is an audio tape of the only somewhat successful interview with Poison Ivy in Arkham.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 2 -interlude
11:30-01/06/2017
Manuscript of Psychotherapy session with Patient-Poison Ivy (real name unknown)
Session 1 attempt- 5
Dr Elliot- “Ok patient 2563 interview tape #1 rolling. For the record I am Doctor Elliot, on security duty for me is Sergeant Cash and I'm with the as yet unidentified patient. Who insists upon being called- “
Ivy- “Poison Ivy.”
Dr Elliot- “Uh-yes patient is the class 5 metahuman mutant known as Poison Ivy. Now why don’t you start off this session with who you were beforehand?”
Ivy- “No hello then? And I'm certainly not telling you that.”
Dr Elliot- “Analysis of your um-fluids and pheromones tells us you were not born this way. We know all too well what a mutant looks like these days.”
Ivy-“Ugghh if you must know, if you can't leave a girl any secrets then some chemicals got spilled and I was reborn in the Gotham city dump. Dropped there like garbage. Can you believe that they left me there? I can.
Dr Elliot- “That wasn't very helpful Ivy.”
Ivy- “Tough shit. you'll never find out what happened, they covered it up. Easier than admitting what happened. Typical Tsk, tsk, tsk”
Dr Elliot- “According to our records whatever happened to you-”
Ivy- “Revealed to me my true purpose. So, I dedicated myself to the earth.
I was blessed with powers by mother nature. I became one with the green, more than human.”
Dr Elliot- “I was going to say it replaced your blood with chlorophyll, enhanced your endocrine system into overdrive keeping you young as well as giving you indefinite stamina. Also, I'm afraid according to our studies you are still around 50% human-”
Ivy- “Bullshit!”
Dr Elliot- “-and most importantly it gave you the ability to control to commune with and control plant life as well as uncontrollably produce hypnotic and aphrodisiac pheromones in your saliva and sweat that can influence men- “
Ivy- “And women too I assure you. Believe me that was the first thing I tried. Not that I really need the pheromones, do I doctor?”
Dr Elliot- “Ahem! - please don't wink at me again. A sample of your pheromones essentially induce mind control and can prove fatal in high doses. Studies show your condition cannot be cured nor replicated. So, you could get quite a few years off your sentence if you were willing to help explain the science?
Ivy-Hah! Me? Help you? So, you can turn me into some WMD in your for-profit wars? So, you can exploit nature some more? So, you can withhold my talents behind some paywall? I’d rather rot in here!
Dr Elliot-I have a theory that you weren’t always this politically motivated before your transformation. Did the trauma radicalise you? Or split your personality?
Ivy-Neither. I finally understood the true value of life. That humans are not the dominant species on earth. I am natures ambassador speaking up for those who can't. Delivering long overdue justice for your crimes against the environment.
Dr Elliot-I also wonder if you no longer claim to be human because a side effect of this unique accident also permanently dyed your skin green due to the chlorophyll.”
Ivy- “Duh. But doesn’t it make me look good, Doctor? I never felt so alive, so good, so virile. So, in touch with the natural world that sustains us. It’s beautiful. How the fuck, can you tear it down? I mean -Come closer and take a look or don’t you find me, beautiful Doctor?”
Sound of chair scraping.
Dr Elliot-” Settle down. I'm not fooling for anything Ivy, don't make me get Sergeant Cash to restrain you some more. Anyway, it also clearly induced a delusional possibly schizophrenic- psychotic break, wherein you now consider yourself an eco-vigilante-”
Ivy- “I protect the green from people like you!”
Dr Elliot-Don't you understand you are a supervillain?
Ivy-I’m like an eco-terrorist at worst.
Dr Elliot- “Really? Your record states that your first crime was destroying Gotham's ACE Chemicals Lab. Waltzing in and destroying millions in research and randomly killing the top scientists.”
Ivy- “And?”
Dr Elliot- “What happened to Dr Jason Woodrue was sickening! To be force fed a plethora of spores and seeds that achieved several years' worth of growth in what the pathologist said was mere minutes!”
Ivy-“Mmm sounds painful.”
Dr Elliot- “He had a girlfriend at home, Ivy!”
Ivy- “Really!? That poor dear. I did her a favour. No way that prick was good for her! Besides, love, marriage, it's all bullshit! it’s just a trap! You know you can just reduce love down to a basic chemical formula, right? it's not magic!”
Dr Elliot- Go on Ivy this is the most you've said to anyone, I'm proud you're opening up.
Ivy- Lose that shit eating grin dickweed! But This does need to be said. Look what nature created all without love! The only emotional connection we need is one to nature! I work alone with no pathetic attachments which is why it took you so long to catch me. Isn't it?
Silence
Ivy-Ha! Knew it! Humans are weak. Most of the time love can't even last a single human lifetime and it's all you value, well that and money. Try valuing the planet that gave you life. I would rather die than go back to humanity and its foibles.
Dr Elliot- “Well some people feel differently. Why don't you try thinking of how you’d feel if-”
Ivy- “I’ve changed Doctor, I see things more clearly now. Letting people in makes you weak, soft, and rotten. It is inevitable they will betray you. Look at the lifespan of a beautiful oak and think of all the lives that will cycle through in its lifetime and see how meaningless they all are.”
Dr Elliot- “Hmph Ivy that's something I would like to discuss later as it's a basic emotional requirement and your lack of empathy for other people is what's really keeping you here.
Ivy-Well, why should I feel bad for anyone? People are weak, simple-minded creatures. Driven by their lusts, their greed. Falling for someone is just a vestige of your crude animal self. A failure to keep mind over matter. A fatal weakness, love becomes a symbiotic partnership that will kill you. Only the strong stand alone. And only the strong deserve to survive. It’s natural selection.
Dr Elliot- “You done?”
Ivy- “Fine! For now.”
Dr Elliot- “Well thank you Ivy that was informative now back to your record- you were recorded seducing and brutally killing the CEO of a logging company. Can you honestly justify that?”
Ivy- “That asshole! He would have murdered whole forests in his greed!”
Dr Elliot- “No need to feed him through a woodchipper, though. Next it was the entire board of an international industrial conglomerate-”
Ivy- “All Douchebags! dumping toxic waste anywhere they could for years. Ruining precious meadows and murdering the soil for centuries! And all of them total sleazebags too!
Dr Elliot- “It takes quite a God complex to be self-righteous about giving a dozen people fatal Digitalis strokes from poisoned coffee.”
Ivy- “Not my fault they couldn't handle a taste of their own meadows.”
Dr Elliot- “And there are countless more acts of industrial sabotage, blackmail and vandalism and murder attributed to you.”
Ivy- “The lives I have saved far outweigh the monsters I have killed.”
Dr Elliot- “What about all the reports that you have drugged men and women with your pheromones and forced them to- “
Ivy- “Serve me sexually and otherwise? My pheromones can't make you do anything you don’t want to. If you find me even a little bit desirable then well, you'll do anything for me. They made those fools all fall in love with me.
They root out those secret desires, all those things you're thinking of doing to me even now. Aren't you doctor?”
Dr Elliot- “That’s irrelevant.”
Sound of chair scraping
Ivy-If you like what you see, even a little bit, then you can be my devoted slave and maybe even my lover too if you're lucky. You wouldn't be the first to be both. You men are all so simple. Love makes you blind animals. Just one kiss or a little bit of skin-on-skin contact, and you're plucked.”
Dr Elliot- “Sit back down Ivy or I'll have you masked up again. Your crime spree is over now thanks to The Batman.”
Ivy- “Spoiling my fun and murdering the earth by proxy! That black suited tool! How the hell did he best my charms?”
Dr Elliot- That I don't know. You honestly believe your powers to be charms?
Ivy-Duh! If you have no interest at all then they won't work.
Dr Elliot- that's exactly the kind of evasive logic I want to study and resolve.
Ivy-Ugh that's the last thing I want, to be studied all day by you. I've had a lifetime of being studied by men. Don't you have any female doctors?
Dr Elliot-We did, once. So, you believe love is a weakness and yet sex is, okay?
Ivy-That's right. I have to take my pleasures where I can. It's a natural act. Love is just a messy lie that sometimes comes with it.
Dr Elliot-Well you won't be indulging in that here, judging by everything you've just said, you will be remaining in your airtight cell in solitary for a very long time to come. I intend to deradicalize you and only once I have can you stay in general population. Maybe even one day you could be integrated back into society. ``
Ivy- “Why the hell would I want any of that? Humans fucking suck!”
Dr Elliot- “What you want does not matter anymore. You are my patient now and I would like to begin your rehabilitation by discussing your childhood-”
Ivy- “Ok I've totally gotten bored of this. Oh doctor, would you like to hear a little secret?”
Dr Elliot- “Erm- yes?”
Ivy- “The burly Sergeant Cash here made the mistake of leaning in to check my cuffs on the way over and I gave him a little peck on the lips.”
Dr Elliot- “Huh! You mean he’s - “
Ivy- “You know just what to do dear.”
Sound of gunshot from Sergeant Cash’s firearm
Ivy- “Sorry love, you seemed nice, but I can't let you get in my way.”
Unintelligible spluttering
Dr Elliot- “Why –bother with- me why- not just run?”
Ivy- “Consider this interview my … manifesto. Now come on Cash dear I have lots of work for you to do and lots of lessons to teach.”
Sergeant Cash- “Yes, mistress Ivy.”
-End of tape
Notes:
I tried something new here! please comment and let me know if you like it! chapters 3 and 4 are in their final stages!
Chapter 3: The beautiful monster
Summary:
Ivy embarks on just another mission. and Harley Quinn having just escaped the Suicide Squad does her own thing.
Notes:
so from now on the story takes place after the events of the as yet unreleased Suicide Squad game.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
22:58-12/03/2022
It’s a frosty night here on the outskirts of Gotham City. On the perimeter of Penguin's mansion lurks Poison Ivy. Even here she can still smell the foul stink of the nearby freeway. But more pleasantly over the brick wall sprawls Cobblepot’s vast and luxurious back gardens. Sadly, still forced into man's neat order. The trees cut short, the grass clipped, and the wild blooms caged in flower beds. It’s otherwise exceptionally maintained by the army of hired gardeners in the daytime. Far better than Ivy was used to. Ivy centres herself breathing in the refreshing pine scent of the trees, breathing out and finding her zen. Tonight's the night Penguin learns that nature always wins.
“Showtime!” she says to herself. Before adopting the tiresome persona, she uses while on a mission.
Concurrently unbeknownst to Ivy, Harley Quinn merely strolls up to the front gates of the Iceberg Lodge. Looking very ostentatious, not even attempting to camouflage herself, dressed exclusively in red and blue leather, her pale face painted even whiter. Carrying with one hand a bag full of safecracking tools, flash grenades and an smg. Happy to escape from the Suicide Squad and be out from under Amanda Waller's thumb, finally an independent woman again! Feeling full of hope the same way a naive Harleen had felt on her first day as a licensed psychiatrist.
“It's like a brand-new day for me! Carpe diem or whatever!” She announces to herself as she gambols up the road.
For the first step in Ivy’s masterplan, using her willpower she focuses, reaching out and sensing all the nearby flora. Summoning thick branches from the nearby oak trees to reach out like an extension of her body and carry her over the looming perimeter wall and its razor wire topping. The branch gently bows, lowering her to the ground before returning to normal. Ivy arrives inside the so-called Iceberg Lodge estate. God! What a dumb name! Like really?
A menacing solid brick wall and its reinforced iron gate bar Harley’s way.
She takes the time to fish out her bubble-gum from her mouth and shove it in the letterbox opening. Smirking. That ought to piss him off some. I hope he gets his own mail. She has no interest in making a servant's day any worse.
She slides her red gym bag full of goodies through the portcullis bars.
Lacking the explosives to get past the locked gate right now. Gotta grab some Semtex soon. That's always fun!
But to climb the sheer brick walls surrounding it, is easy for her.
All she has to do is simply balance on the intercom and from there vault over the wall landing gracefully on the other side. A perfect 10! Wish somebody coulda seen it!
Looking round the vast front lawn for security she sees no one.
Only stone penguin carvings lining the road that make her roll her eyes
A Shocking display of arrogance on his part, no floodlights or guard dogs or nothing! Boring! Penguins so bland. All that money, why not splash out on something cool like machine gun turrets? Or some kinda--
Ivy’s plan is already tried and tested elsewhere.
Infiltrate via the least secure entrance, in this case the back garden
Sneak inside the property, corner the target and then kill them or spare them if there is a chance, they will change their ways. Tonight, her next step is dealing with the three guards she knows are patrolling it.
Ivy strides up the huge, manicured lawn like she owns the place. Having stopped caring about fashion when she found a higher purpose, all she is wearing is her loose red shirt from Arkham and dark trousers while barefoot to be closer to the earth. The chill night wind whips at her exposed belly but she barely feels it.
“ Cmon focus Quinn” she chides herself. Retrieving her bag of tricks.
Briefly surveying the lawn and the dark mansion all gothic stone and brick like an ugly castle. The square front yard is ominously empty.
Taking a chance, she sprints quietly in the grass rather than the gravel driveway vaulting the low balcony instead of taking the stone stairs up to the front entrance stopping at the imposing wooden double doors. There's gonna be guards inside, no way it's that easy
Harley pauses, coming up with a new idea on the fly having hoped all the security would be outside.
Missing her old backup and the feeling of relying on someone looking out for you. After the Jokers untimely death from (Titan) Poisoning
Harley is ashamed to admit at first, she mourned him. But the longer she had spent out from under his influence the more she figured out how bad he'd been for her. After another spell in Arkham and then Belle Reve she finally saw just how stupid she’d been. And is itching for a chance to make a go of it as a new woman! She has no choice to go solo as a crook and so is awful lonely now. Of course, she could go straight and law abiding, but she never even considers that. Maybe there’s one way to still preserve the element of surprise. She rings the doorbell.
In the dark Ivy slips silently towards the first hired guard. who's clad in a black tactical vest. While he's looking the wrong way, she uses a nearby succulent’s leaves to reach out and snatch his gun and walkie before he can react, next moving in to garrotte him so he can't yell. Bored of hearing their pathetic screams. While more leaves and stems sprout up and squeeze his lungs and limbs like krakens.
That vest turns out to be useless as a hundred green cables slither underneath.
Unimpeded Ivy tosses the gun into the grass, as green chains bind the man in a cocoon. Ivy marches up to the sprawling manor. A gothic castle of bricks and mortar far too big for anyone to fully utilise, let alone a short little troll like the Penguin. The sheer extravagance appals her. What a waste! This used to be a wild meadow. Despite her best efforts people never learn, buildings get taller and uglier
More roads cut up the wild. More factories burn through irreplaceable wilderness. People are so tiresome, repeating the same thought she's had a million times before as she slinks up to the house.
A burly guard opens the door wearing a polo shirt under a bulletproof vest.
Helmetless and gullible, that's his mistake.
“What the-”
Harley waits outside the door on her right. Assuming he’d open only the door to his right Basic cognitive bias most people do.
Meaning as he opens the other door to her before he even turns round, she is braining him. Her brightly painted baseball bat breaks his nose with a squelch.
Pirouetting herself from the force of the swing. while he’s distracted from the blood gushing down his flattened nose, she kicks him hard in the balls.
Then she rushes into the manor. Scanning the atrium, she sees its a marble lined box with its own fireplace and armchairs and three more guards.
She sees ones really tall, ones kinda handsome and one has a fetching scar
“Hi boys!”
“What the fuck!?”
“It's Harley Quinn!”
Too late Harley notices they are all armed with smgs,
Ok that's loads more firepower than I expected but fuck it!
Reacting on pure reflexes, she grabs the still stunned
mercenary by his Kevlar straps throwing him into their midst.
All before they can reach their guns. The collision entangles them making them stumble together.
Harley follows up leaping into the fray. Now she's amongst them. They can't find the time to draw and would only shoot each other.
But it means there's no chance for her to draw her own revolver or grab her bag of toys by the door either.
Harley swings her bat in a wild circle cracking all their grabbing hands in one.
Grunting, shoving all her weight against the handsome goon sending him stumbling into the fireplace cracking his skull on the mantelpiece. Giving her breathing room to do a high kick on the jaw of the tallest guard.
He stumbles back then wipes his bearded jaw clean of blood
watching for an opening. Cracking a tooth and his pride in one.
Two of their number stunned in mere seconds
“Are ya the guards or are ya the maids?” She taunts them
Before charging the scarred guard to her left like a quarterback but before she can grab him the guard behind seizes her in a lock!
“You're fucked girly!”
He lifts her off the ground
She can't wriggle out of his iron grip before the second guard closes in.
Elbow strikes have no effect on his padded body armour.
She kicks the approaching goon in the chest buying time.
Dumbass didn't grab my arms. His hands are wrapped around the exposed flesh of her belly.
So, she swipes a vase off the mantel and cracks the encroaching thug over the head knocking him cold as it shatters.
The guard behind is still struggling with the squirming Harley, who's wilder than he predicted; he can't manage anything but barely hold onto her; she is greased lightning.
Harley sees her chance and pushes her feet off the wall
Overbalancing the overconfident brute toppling him down so he cracks his head on the marble floor.
“Underestimate me will ya?!”
She places her bat against his mouth and gives it the hardest whack she can.
Then another, then another till she hears a satisfying crack as his teeth cave in. One final tap so all the bloody shards fall in his mouth
“Don't swallow!” She laughs. Then she feels a fist grab her by her hair and wheel her round to face the tall goon. She’d forgotten all about him in her rage. He follows up with a sucker punch to her pale face.
That's gonna leave a black eye later. She laments.
Before he punches her in the gut while still yanking on her hair.
Harley looks for an opening since he only has one hand free, she watches shrewdly for the optimum moment to crack him in the ribs and wind him.
I can take it. Let him get cocky.
He laughs sadistically, striking her in her clenched abs again.
“Not so tough without your boyfriend now, are you?” he taunts in a gravelly voice.
Oh, now you done it Mista!
Quick drawing her revolver from inside her jacket, now she has room,
she fires twice into his chest, blowing any chance at a silent non-lethal approach. Shocked, he lets go of her clutching protectively at the bleeding entry wounds in his belly. While blood mortally gushes out of his exit wounds.
Making space between them. Harley jumps up and does her best two footed drop kick I never get a chance to do these!
but he somehow remains merely swaying, till she swings the bat hard enough to hit a home run, and he spins like a top collapsing face up.
Seeing red and also her moment. She grabs her bat and pounds, hammers, and splatters. His face soon makes horrific squelching noises. She screams and curses inarticulately. All the pain of the Joker and her time wasted with him surging back. She channels it down her arms, through the bat and into his skull.
She keeps on hitting him, not stopping till what he said fades away.
by then his nose is a screwed-up ball of red paper, His teeth splinters and his skull cracked. She snarls and wipes her face off. Feeling satisfied he’d regret that remark for the rest of his life one way or the other. Her bat now reddened and with a chunk of tooth embedded in it.
She returns to check out the moaning guard who is covering his swollen, bruised crotch with one hand and trying to stem the blood flow from his nose with the other. So much for a professional he hasn't even gotten up.
“Is that all of ya?” in her best Batman impression.
He grunts softly still in too much pain. It had been mere minutes since a former Olympian aimed a practised kick that collided with both his balls. He can't manage getting up now let alone walking.
“I said is that all of ya ?” She kicks him hard in the hand protecting his crotch.
“ Yes ” he groans
“Thanks!” she adds brightly.
Standing over him she mashes the bat into his face a couple times more till she breaks his fingers. Can't have him causing trouble later he won't be shooting or punching anybody anytime soon . As a side effect overloading the broken bleeding sack of cartilage that used to be his nose till his eyes roll back and he passes out from the pain. She pulls out her latest burner phone and snaps a selfie of her and the four comatose losers for her encrypted Instagram account. Then skipping on happily knowing she's free and clear now leaving the bruised foursome behind.
Ivy spots the penultimate guard. Standing with his back to her near the ersatz wilderness and the prison camp rows of rose beds spouting inane blather on his cell phone, she waits like a tiger in the brush, her verdant skin acting as perfect camouflage against the grass. Till he makes the fatal mistake of ending his call.
First Ivy rips his gun from his grip with vicious tendrils.
“Huh?”
As he turns Ivy punches him in the throat. Shutting him up.
More vines follow lacerating his body with Penguin’s prized roses.
Ivy hops back as he tries to untangle himself
He thrashes in razor wire coils grunting too confused to scream even if he could manage it through his crushed windpipe.
Ivy watches with schadenfreude not throwing another punch unless she has to.
Her plants do all the work for her.
The stems squeeze him like a boa constrictor till he cant even breathe, All he can do is thrash. Ivy snarls at him. She has no reason to spare him even when he's rendered harmless, so the roses dig tighter into his flesh, blood feeding the grass. Visible through his skin she can see her tendrils weaving into his muscles. Slicing vital arteries while growing to the brain.
He stops struggling, lungs pricked, muscles strangled. Eventually Ivy drops him, his skin brutally pockmarked, his body a fresh flower bed. Ivy steps over him as he bleeds out.
Feeling a little worn out, Harley visits the kitchen looking for some snacks.
She praises herself for winning the fight while only taking a couple of hits.
“Good on ya babes! You've earned a lil snack." She mutters to herself while rifling through Penguins fridge. Finding a whole strawberry trifle which she eats by the handful.
“Mmmmm” she moans, licking her lips, before throwing the remains at the wall. Enjoying the splattery mess it makes. Before skipping off to vandalise the rest of the manor before she robs it blind.
Ivy approaches the back patio seeing the locked door and its keypad; luckily, she has already accounted for this on her earlier reconnaissance trips.
She creeps along the edge of the house, her green skin making her almost invisible in the gloom. She rounds the corner searching the dark depths of the estate with her piercing gaze. Spotting him she presses herself against the wall. Inching along it some then stopping. Waiting patiently for the lone watchman's patrol to pass her.
Meanwhile Harley is busy applying a spray-paint cock to a vast portrait of Penguins grandfather. She runs along a corridor spraying a zig zagging pink line across the wall while pulverising clocks, busts, and vases to pieces. Enjoying the smash before the grab. Her head swivels this way and that, looking for something fragile to break. Only stopping to shatter an ornate mirror. Bouncing around the manor like a pinball.
Ivy steps up behind the last patrolling guard. A tall, bearded thug holding an illegal assault rifle. She has to act fast as his strength will outweigh hers.
Ivy clamps one green hand around his mouth, the other pulls his arm into a lock till he drops his gun half in shock. Ivy tilts his head towards hers forcibly administering the kiss. Ugh I hate this part. Every time it's such a chore.
Hating his itchy beard stubble as she tightly presses their lips together.
Ivy's toxic touch is not something his combat training had ever prepared him for. By the time he thinks of reacting it’s too late. Her pheromones bond him to her. Once she pulls away, he looks at Ivy like a lovesick puppy instantly infatuated. She owns him now.
“Now open the back door for me would you dear?” Never tiring of how easy this always makes things.
“Yes, mistress.” He drones before marching over and entering the passcode.
Ivy walks through the bulletproof glass door as he politely holds it open for her. He trails behind her but once Ivy hears his loud boots clunking on the tiled kitchen floor, she realises she needs to dispose of him before he ruins her usual stealthy approach.
Without a second thought she turns.
“Now go to sleep dear.”
She blows him another kiss this time laced with enough poison to knock him out. Ivy supports him as he falls so he doesn't loudly crash to the floor. I’m better off alone. She repeats, padding like a she-wolf across the tiles. Feet tracking mud into the enormous sterile kitchen. For some reason there is a trifle stuck to the wall. A domestic dispute? Ivy moves on through the enormous stainless-steel kitchen ignoring all the trivial gadgets and the open fridge. Before entering the service corridor.
By now Harley has already made her way to Penguin’s bedroom after having had her fun downstairs. Blowing open his personal safe she finds not gems or gold bars but a folder of bearer bonds, immediately transferable ownership of various illicit fortunes. She eagerly stuffs them all into her red holdall. Along with a few smaller valuables she can fence. Having had her fill of mayhem for now, only thinking purely of theft. Making to leave his bedroom and take a look in the basement for any other treasures or secrets he might keep downstairs. Maybe a fancy car?
Ivy pads across thick carpets and rugs. The rest of the guards will be at the front porch area, so she avoids them by going this way. she’ll escape the same way she came in. Ivy climbs up the nearest stairs to the first floor, heading up to the second where her target will be sleeping at this hour. Even the corridor stinks of ill-gotten money almost as wide as her old apartment lined with photographs of local politicians shaking hands with Cobblepot on the other side windows with heavy drapes let in the moonlight. Feeling unstoppable, smiling confidently as her plan is working without a hitch. Right up until she emerges into the gloomy corridor and sees Harley Quinn!
Ivy stops dead in her tracks and worries What the hell is she doing here? I thought she was rotting in prison! Harley Quinn is the last person on earth Ivy ever wanted to see. Yet here she is.
Despite everything Ivy can't help but smirk thinking of all the things that transpired since they last met. Her death and rebirth. Her new superpowers and green crusade. Meanwhile Harley had been in and out of prison getting shipped to Belle Reve was the last she’d heard about her. I'm the most dangerous one here now , she steels herself.
Harley still scampers inevitably towards her, still totally oblivious.
Staring silently, unsure of her next move. Ivy notes Harleys had a makeover. She looks great, cooler, and more mature, having a flash of irritation at her admiration. Less like a bratty teenager now. Harley having trashed her old clownish outfit choosing a cooler badass leather jacket and a custom tank top giving herself an appealing ensemble.
Unaware Harley continues skipping along the first-floor corridor towards the next set of stairs down. Moving fast to avoid the chill of the vast vacant mansion though she still feels it on her exposed midriff. Unaware of the presence of the tall figure glaring at her from the dark shadowy end of the sumptuous corridor.
She doesn’t know the grudge I bear. And her precious boyfriend is dead now too so she’s all alone. Tragic she thinks sarcastically. Before it dawns on her Shit! She has to be here working for Cobblepot! If I stop her now, he’s gone and there's no quiet way to get to him first. Goddammit! She's ruined weeks of meticulous planning! She despondently thinks of all the time spent scouting, studying the blueprints, memorising the guards. Think Ivy, think! She centres herself embraces her true purpose, the imagined voice of the green screaming in her head Remember why you are here.
At last Harley spots the slender figure trying to hide between the drapes and their shadows.
“Who’s there?” calls Quinn in a sing-song voice. Not Batsty! Not the Bat! Anyone but the Bat brain! She fervently hopes.
Caught. Reeling Ivy says nothing. She tries to focus in on a nearby plant but finds none. It’s either fight or flight and Harley’s muscles and swagger say fighting is not an option. No more running or hiding, that's what Pam would have done.
Just as she steps out into the moonlit square of light from the window. Quinn exclaims.
“Poison Ivy?!” Finally figuring out who she is, Harley's eyes boggle. “Nice to meetcha! I'm a big fan!” She says holding out a hand that Ivy ignores.
“Hello Harley darling, nice new outfit!” Finally announcing herself falling back into her villainous Ivy persona as a defence mechanism. Harley’s outfit consists of a studded red leather jacket worn over a frayed tank top and tight military style pants in red and purple and combat boots that reached halfway to her knees. Her white painted complexion looking as delicious as powdered sugar. While her juicy lips are coated in glossy dark lipstick that matches her eyeshadow. Her bright blonde hair is done in tight blue and red space buns. Her boobs strain at her white tank top lifting it away from her, so it ends just shy of her belly button. “I love the new hairdo too.” Ivy drawls
The compliment is well placed. Harley is no longer the Joker's pigtailed property, but she still keeps her long blonde locks tied up in her new beloved bright red and blue space buns. As a finishing touch she got an undercut that Harley thinks makes her look cool and military.
Harley is shocked by the stranger's surprise entrance; she only knows the super villainess by reputation. Ivy appeared out of nowhere; nobody in the Gotham underworld even knows her alter ego and she always works alone. Totally independent. Just like I wanna be.
Poison Ivy strides toward her spreading her arms and fingers showing herself off, her eyes aglow with green fire. Seeing her in the flesh is a real treat. Holy Moley she is so freakin hot!
Ivy's red shirt is unbuttoned at her belly pushing up her already bulging breasts while baring her green midriff like a weapon. Two buttons struggling to contain her chest. Her mass of red hair is all coiled and piled up in a vicious yet elegant bun on top of her head. Like a cobra waiting to strike.
“Ya know me?” Ivy’s friendly comments imply an unearned rapport. Though Harley still leans in and checks out the stranger's cleavage.
“Well of course, I do, everyone knows the Joker's ex.” She purrs, part of her annoyed that Harley could not even recognize her. But also, glad she didn’t see that weak willed woman anymore. Noticing She still has that same precocious accent.
“Well, why are ya here too? Are ya banging the Penguin?”
“Ugh No way. Obviously, I'm breaking into this place just like you.” She states calmly. But more emotion slips in than she would like. Harley pushes her buttons without even trying. Ivy’s insides are boiling, having never forgotten the last time she had ever been made to feel weak and small.
“Well, we can't both rob it!” Harley blurts.
“Rob?” She chuckles. “I heard on the grapevine that Penguin has plans to develop the Gotham state national park into real estate. I was going to impress upon him just how unwise that would be.” Or maybe just kill him and say good riddance.
“Well, ya wasted ya time. He’s not here this whole month. Him and his trophy wife are on his yacht at the cape of Good Hope. It’s all over Instagram. She posted a pic of them. Don’t cha have Insta?” She ploughs on before Ivy can answer. “I was just here ta rob him blind while he’s gone. I already got all these totally untraceable bearer bonds worth a fortune!'' She proudly shows off the folder. “He won't even notice or know about it till it's too late. Unless you tell him?” She gives a stern look and points her bloodied baseball bat at Ivy,
“I won't tell.” Ivy promises in a voice dripping with apathy having no love for the Penguin after all. But she’s caught off guard that he's gone,
“Gee thanks Miss Poison. I gotta say I'm a huge fan of the work ya do! I love seeing a girl boss doing her own thing!” Harley tries to match Ivy's stance, while thinking she could be a powerful friend . Giving her a friendly smile.
“How many guards did you see on your way in Harley?” Ugh she still has that same cocky grin. Ivy shifts frowning.
“One, two, three and four.” Harley counts off on her fingers. “All of 'em way too slow and arrogant ta dodge this.” She shows off her gory red bat. “Guns ain’t much use when I break all ya fingers. She snorts.
“That’s good to know” Ivy muses “I easily dealt with the rest.”
“We’ve got the whole estate to ourselves then!” Harley’s shouts like it’s a party.
“You wanna finish trashing the place with me? bright eyes lighting up, happy to share the praise for wrecking Penguin’s manor.
Ivy rolls her eyes, barely concealing the depths of her anger. Harley being so open and friendly doesn't fool her; she knows what she is capable of.
She has tried to forget her, and she should be on her way now. For some reason she trusts Harley's word that Penguin isn't here. So, no there's reason to stay. And yet…
“I always work alone, Harley.” She refuses having learnt her lesson about trusting people never going to make that mistake again. "You do your little minor vandalism thing I'm going.” She dismisses her with a callous wave of her hand. If she doesn't see Harley again for another seven years, it will be too soon. But while I am seeing her… No shut up!
“Aww! I wanted to see ya in action! I betcha could bring this whole house down if ya wanted. Cmon dontcha ever get lonely Miss Ivy? I sure do.” still feeling aroused after the fight. Blood pumping, heart pounding, adrenaline flowing.
“Why the fuck would I get lonely? She must retort that. “People make me wanna puke! I don't need some sidekick to get in my way or slow me down. Lemme give you some advice: love is for children. Men are like weeds. Every single one I stamp out there's another five tomorrow. Ivy lectures shaking her head with knowing disapproval. Bringing this place down is tempting but it wouldn't be the same without the Penguin inside it. Demolition alone won't save the trees.
“I wasn't talking about men.” Suggests Harley with a wink. Finding this fiery woman, very interesting indeed. Plus, she wants to know if all the rumours and gossip about her are true. “Or maybe another night huh?”
She’s actually coming onto me? Ivy blinks, jaw slack till she snaps it shut. Pam would have stammered. It’s the last thing she expects. Hitting her like a sucker punch. Thinking hard. Ivy prowls around Harley forcing her to turn 360 in order to follow her. Pacing like a predator Funny when Harley humiliated me all those years ago, I thought she was as old as me but now I see she's barely in her thirties.
Spotting how she wears her cobalt and crimson jacket with the collar popped like she is trying to be a badass. She checks out Harley's ass in those tight leather pants and notices she has the toned shapely legs of a former Olympic hopeful. Why shouldn't I? I have mastery over nature, surely, I have mastery over myself. I can resist her. It would be good to dominate her and best her. On the spot coming up with a new plan for revenge. Not something she has ever tried before but it suits Harley. An eye for an eye. The devilish idea taking root so rapidly it's like it was always there; making any old schemes seem so very boring. Tonight, could be very fun indeed. I can finally wipe that stupid smirk off her ugly, sexy face.
“Well, what are you talking about Harley?” Ivy purrs in the sexiest, most seductive voice she can muster.
“Ooh Hahaha I knew you'd be fun! this is like our first date so maybe just a lil smooch if you're interested. I'd love to get to know ya, I bet ya could be really cool!” She emphasises “I don't know any supervillains with real superpowers.”
Eco Terrorist Ivy wants to correct her.
“Well what kind of fun are you after? As far as Ivy is concerned, she’s done with her, yet she has only one weakness and Harley is unknowingly exploiting it. Peeling at her layers of excuses there is only one reason for her to stay now.
Harley is already her hostage now and she doesn’t even know it. No one can resist me. Women aren't much harder to manipulate than men.
“Why don't you just kiss me then? If you’re so unsure?” Ivy asks gently not having planned for any of this; not liking improvisation but she could never allow herself to be rejected, least of all by her. Nor could she walk away now without humiliating Harley. So smug She hasn't changed a bit from when they’d first met. Someone needs to teach her a lesson.
“Ha! Sure thing! Lay one on me Ivy” Harley’s eyebrows jump before she impetuously puckers up her lips.
Oh well she asked for it. I'm not responsible for what happens next. Ivy angles her head down making it easier for the shorter Harley to get close to her.
Harley eagerly leans in, angling her head up, pouting her lips. eyes still wide open to see if Ivy will follow through.
She looks like butter wouldn't melt. Ivy notes Though we both know better. I mean we are both killers now though but still. And with that their lips meet.
Ivy is not prepared for just how good the kiss is.
Harley's welcoming lips are soft and gentle against hers.
It feels just how a kiss should feel she can't stop herself from thinking.
Harley tastes like Cinnamon with a hint of strawberries and cream. Familiar natural scents Ivy can't help but enjoy them.
Getting all worked up, Harley snuggles up against the hot-blooded Ivy, hugging her is like being wrapped in a cosy duvet, since she has a hotter body temperature than a regular human. After all that time in a cold cell in Arkham, the former gangster's moll needs some warmth. So, she kisses with vigour finding Ivy intoxicating, her heady flavour making her all dizzy like downing a couple of fruit cocktails.
Ivy smooches back with puckered lips. The lip lock lasting longer than she’d expected. Her stressed posture loosens.
Harley leaps deeper into the kiss with aplomb, groping Ivy irritating her, though amusing her somewhat with her sheer passion.
Harley's eyes widen as the tip of Ivy's tongue tickles hers.
She don't hold back! I knew she’d be fun!
Ivy figures she can bind Harley with vines, and then leave an anonymous tip and her, for the GCPD. That’ll teach her a lesson about respect, about boundaries and it would show her who was boss now. Especially since it would send her safely back to prison where she belonged
Now that Harley stood in front of her, she finds all those old fantasies of slowly killing her become just that, fantasies. She wants revenge but killing such a beauty would be a waste. Besides, she'd never learn her lesson if she was dead. She can’t pass up the chance to lay this beauty.
Planning to exact revenge by doing to her what she had done to Pam all those years ago. Greatly enjoying Harley's presence now, she has all the power. Finally, they separate.
“Ooh la la Ivy! I don't normally french on a first date but wowza!
I'll make an exception for ya!” She grins, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.
This is no date! Ivy fumes but instead she purrs arrogantly
"Well, what would you like to do now?". Covering her own swirling vortex of conflicting emotions. Knowing she's snared the clown now. Like a Venus trap closing round a bothersome fly. Using that same sweet seductive voice the same way bright leaves pull in a bee.
"I wanna make out way more! Mmm ya lips are crazy soft. I want ya ta gimme me some more tongue!” The kiss is all the excuse Harley needs to get freaky!
sounding giddy drunk on endorphins, adrenaline, and Ivy.
Now I have her . Ivy chuckles lightly. Maybe the police can wait?
"So, Harley, how do I look? She asks, genuinely enjoying her blunt honesty.
"Like a million bucks! Like the hottest babe I've ever seen. Like sex incarnate!”
"I thought so," smirks Ivy. "Now kiss me again," She orders. Noticing Harley’s lips are painted two different shades, deep red and black merging into each other. The former sidekick is practically under her spell now, but Ivy still kisses her deeply anyway.
Harley complies with vigour snogging Ivy scandalously. Her dark cherry lipstick smearing Ivy's immaculate face. Responding Ivy's hands reach up and press Harley's face into hers. Kissing her even harder. I am a damn good kisser when I'm not being forced into it . Ivy thinks with shame and pride.
Harley kisses back with such energy, Ivy can't resist a nibble or two on her ample lips.
Harley groans softly through the kiss. Her own hands cheekily reaching round to feel up Ivy's ass.
Ivy finishes up their stolen kiss by sucking on Harley’s tongue hard enough to feel it's very texture, fellating it between her eager lips. forcefully drawing it in between her perfect white teeth. Showing off. She gives her cute hair buns a final squeeze and lets her lips go. Finding a cosy nice hollow in the collar instead laying soft kisses down that irresistible flesh finding it as hot and pale as freshly baked bread.
“Mmm Ivy” she hums.
"You enjoyed that didn't you?” says Ivy lifting her head away from Harley's neck having left several budding love bites in her wake. After an undeniable combo of kisses
" Fuck yeah, I did! Ya more than live up ta all the rumours.”
What rumours? Ivy makes a note of that. “ Well, if you want to get to know me more intimately, I'm sure I could show you.” She murmurs busy nibbling on her neck like the bride of Dracula. Why doesn't she shut up? She's brought this on herself.
“Well, I like ya and that was cute and all, but I don't wanna just jump into bed with a total stranger I'm way more mature now.” she declares, lifting her chin with pride.
“Clearly” she sneers. Harley will not deny me! Pamela steps away putting a hand to her mouth before going full Ivy. Putting on the lilting voice, doing the slow Ivy walk swaying her hips, circling her prey again.
“Oh, but then of course you'll miss out on me dear. Haven't you ever been with a metahuman before?
Never slept with a superhero?
Someone blessed with powers unlike anything you've ever known?
Do you have any idea of what I can do with just a single little vine?” She hints suggestively running a finger slowly up Harley's leather jacket.
Harley wolf whistles in admiration but regains her personal space by jumping back a little. still wavering.
“I could show you how I have complete control over how they flex and squeeze and climb into all sorts of places.” Ending that statement with a light chuckle and a knowing tilt of her head. You don't need to be a psychiatrist like Harley to know what's up for grabs by the way Ivy spreads wide her arms flaunting herself, with a green gleam in her eyes.
Harley puzzles this offer out, scratching the itchy spot on the shaven part of her scalp with the tip of her bat. This was a once in a lifetime chance for her to hook up with the elusive Ivy. It's been way too long since I got laid. And now I'm flirting with a mysterious babe! Only thing is we only just met? Harley is a lot more careful now about who she hooked up with after her abusive relationship with the world's most notorious clown. But while she wants to stick to her rules Ivy is so tempting! I could adapt my scheme. Why not do both? But I don't wanna rush into a stranger's arms again… While wrestling between her lust and her professional instincts, Ivy interrupts her.
“Hmm maybe we could go raid Penguins wine cellar and have a girl's night, in after all?”
“Ooh I like tha way ya think! You're the best kinda trouble. You naughty little hippy.
Could be a lil sleepover too imagine Penguins face if we squat here!”
Ivy chuckles too, letting the hippy insult slide. I am far more than that now.
Harley finally peels her gaze off the redhead's entrancing eyes and cleavage, at last recognizing Ivy's outfit.
“That's an Arkham shirt, isn't it?” narrowing her eyes.
“Yes” she answers, cocking her head. Where's this going?
“Never seen someone look good in one before. Well, sides me of course.”
“Of course.” Ivy smirks, nodding once. Beginning to get invested in their flirting. “You were there?” Like she didn't know. thank fuck I was out before she got caught.
“Yeah, till I was shipped to Belle Reve in Louisiana.” Harley mumbles fidgeting.
“That concrete shack they drilled straight into wild coastline!” the metahuman flares up hissing like medusa. Noticing how Harley seems subdued when she mentions it. She tries an entirely new tactic. Sympathy.
“It's worse in there than Arkham, isn't it?”
Harley nods “Yeah, the government forced me to fight for them if I wanted ta ever leave my cell. Or my straitjacket” She mumbles.
“Ugh, that's so typical. I always said US prisons were just slave labour. You must have really suffered in that cold damp box?”
“Yeah” She shrugs looking at her feet but eager to unload her suffering.
“All cooped up in that awful cell you must have gotten so bored?” Ivy strokes the blonde's cheek. The doting act sickens her, but she will say anything to get Harley where she needs her. It's just another plan, she's just another mark, one more target.
“For sure!”
“And lonely?” Ivy winks debasing herself utterly in pursuit of her prey.
“Oh, ya persistent!” Quinn rolls her eyes. But makes no move towards Ivy.
“Don't you find me desirable then Harley?” Ivy whispers leaning in
“Fuck yeah, I do! It ain’t that Ivy… like, we already made out, remember?”
Ivy pops her collar copying Harley's look trying to seem more casual.
“Indeed. Then she sighs now aiming to goad her with reverse psychology “But perhaps men are more your thing. Why I'm sure the Batman will show up if you make any more noise. In fact, his signal might be up already-” she moves to check the window then she pauses “It was the Bat who caught you wasn't it?” making a clever guess: Our shared enemy along with everyone else in Gotham.
“Ya he's no fun at all.” What did Mista J see in him? “But he’s kinda cute though. All dressed in black. Don't ya reckon?”
“No. He comes out of nowhere and ruins my evenings! She rages
I'm sure we could have a great evening without him. But I don't just want to kiss you, I want a whole lot more. So don't waste my time, Harley.”
“Nuh uh I wouldn't do that!” she shakes her head “but I dunno if I wanna jump into bed with ya just yet Ivy. I barely know ya, I'm not Huntress! I don't sleep with people I don't even know.”
No Just psychotic clowns you shouldn't trust. It is irrational to Ivy but now Harley has planted the seeds of potential sex in her head she seizes upon them. Ivy pulls away making some distance between them. One final shot.
“Well, I guess I'll just go then, I have way more important things to do and clearly you're still hung up on your dead ex-” Pam could never make these kinds of gambles but as Ivy she learned that simply faking sheer confidence is all it takes.
“Aww dammit Ivy! l-” announces Harley who now has something to prove too. She looks all around the hall making doubly sure the coast is clear while hopping from one foot to another. “Ah screw it! I’m up for a little midnight feast If you are!”
Nature always wins, thinks Ivy.
Notes:
please lemme know what u thought!
did you like their banter?
your thoughts will really motivate me to continue the story and write chapter 5
the first sex scene will be up very very soon!
also Shall I let Harley talk normally without Yas and Tas?
Chapter 4: Poison Ivy's revenge
Summary:
Poison Ivy takes revenge on Harley Quinn for what she suffered as Pam. before they both learn about each others pasts.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“All right Harley but I'm taking charge.” Ivy declares as if it’s no big deal. As if tonight means nothing to her and she has better places to be, as if her social life isn't entirely based in soil.
“Age before beauty!” Jokes Harley not meaning it at all, merely wanting to get a quip of her own in.
“Hmph well, let's not keep ourselves waiting. I'm sure Penguin has a bed we can use.”
Ivy strides up the stairs, not checking to see if Harley follows. But Quinn takes them two at a time. Quickly reaching the master bedroom.
Which is bigger than the entirety of Pam's old apartment. The walls are lined with wasteful wood panelling. It’s decorated with two antique leather armchairs on either side of the door. A Mahogany table dominates one wall beside the door space as well as a few vast potted orchids. An illegal bearskin rug in front of them makes Ivy sick when she thinks of how the beautiful creature must have suffered. The entire place disgusts her.
But at least Penguin does indeed have a massive king size bed built for his wide frame and his trophy wife, Made up with luxury silk sheets and plenty of satin pillows. Ivy perches on the edge and motions Harley towards her. Who’s fidgeting, bouncing on her toes, fizzing with nervous energy. Space buns shaking.
“You said something about trashing this place…?” Ivy suggests gesturing at tables stuffed with mirrors and framed photos of Penguins first two wives alongside his third. Harley grins like the Cheshire cat.
Ivy stands, grabs her by her jacket collar and hauls her in. Lips parting for each other
Ivy carelessly whirls the blonde in her arms like a doll. Not caring for vandalism, she only has eyes for Harley.
Harley's hands reach out to sweep Penguin’s cufflinks and Rolexes to the floor.
making out wildly, hands knocking over jewellery boxes, heirlooms, and China ornaments. Spinning and smooching together like a merry go round.
Ivy stops the spin and exploits Harley's curves with her fingers. Discovering she is rather ticklish.
“Haha Hehe! Stop it, I'm blushing!”
Harley leans in and caresses Ivy. Getting cosy, she lifts her right leg riding it against Ivy's jade hips. Showing off. Seeing she's off balance, Ivy tries hauling her up with both hands on her butt but fails to lift her, so instead she shoves her on the chest, throwing her backwards against the wardrobe.
Gawd that was so cute! She almost picked me up! Wonder if she'd give me a naked piggyback ride too!” Harley pushes her back before sliding the door open so as Ivy jumps her, both fall kissing into mounds of suits and fur coats.
Stone faced. Ivy quickly extricates herself frowning this is a bedroom not a rumpus room.
Quinn surfaces laughing having rolled around in all the Cobblepot’s finery.
Harley springs up giggling at the chaos they created.
Ivy crashes into Harley again who recovers in the spirit of things purposefully retreating to knock over a tie rack.
“What kind of play do you actually want?” Ivy sighs none of this petty mayhem means anything to her. Only Harley's body matters. Harley stares at her eyes wide with worry.
“Sorry Ivy, I got carried away is all. Guess I need a good spanking!”
Ivy rolls her eyes.
"You really want to fuck me so badly, don't you?" observes Ivy with inner glee. She turned Harley on, but she can't turn her off now.
"Hell, yes! I wanna eat my greens! You're a total MILF Ivy! I wanna motorboat your tits! I wanna know if ya carpet matches ya drapes"
“Well, you’d best take off those stuffy clothes then darling.”
Without another word Harley strips.
Slipping out of her expensive red and blue leather jacket and placing it carefully on a bedside table. Ivy cannot help but note the snazzy jacket looks like something Pam might have worn once. The pale t-shirt marked with “Harleen the Queen” is flung away, intending to pick it up later since it literally has her name on it.
Underneath she has a lacy bra in red and black of course matching her own brand.
Without Ivy even having to ask, Harley unclips it for her revealing her full pristine pale breasts. Teardrop shaped they jiggle with her every impatient movement. Lush pink nipples capping the pair. To Ivy the white flesh is so pure like fresh snowfall.
Ivy has waited what felt like an eternity for this moment.
I have longed to see these for years thought Ivy and very few have . She treasures this moment, this sight, just staring at them fixing them in her mind. She could have wept with satisfaction.
Her plan has gone perfectly already; she had taken from Harley everything she had once taken from her. Hook line and sinker she could stop now and go. She doesn't need her. Her plants are all the company she needs. Harley disarmed now she had no gun, no bat. All she had left for weapons were those muscly arms and legs. Ivy sees she is slim where the former gymnast is fit.
The topless Harley jumps on to the bed, bare boobs jiggling.
Laughing and giggling like a child while bouncing on the bed of one of Gotham's most dangerous Kingpins. Ivy looks at her childish glee with disgust lips curling
This is serious shit not a slumber party.
But Ivy clambers up alongside her anyway waiting for her to stop messing around. Once the ditzy blonde notices the redhead beside her she stops and reaches for Ivy’s breasts like a hungry child reaching for the cookie jar. Manically fiddling with her shirt buttons. The excited look on her face like a kid in a candy store.
“Oh no my dear I don’t think you deserve to see my breasts just yet.” denies Ivy folding her arms over her shirt. Her costume functions as armour against Harley's affectionate advances.
“Aww.” Harley pouts sadly expressing confusion.
“You will have to please me first.” She lies .
Harley grins at that challenge. Incentivized she excitedly pecks at Ivy’s face Smothering her with sweet kisses leaving dark lipstick marks. Ivy brings her down with a long kiss of her own and they writhe on the sheets together for some time. Until Ivy rolls on top of Harley looking down on her.
“You know with one kiss I could make you mine if I wanted.” she boasts
“Huh?” weird pillow talk.
“With just a kiss.” Brags Ivy. “My pheromones could bond you to me and we’d do whatever I wanted to, and we’d do it again and again and again. Harley thinks Ivy's voice seems magical now, layered, and sweet like syrup.
“Ha! Hate to break it to ya, but ever since I fell into a vat of toxic goo, no poisons work on me... Including ya pheromones. Guess I should thank Mr J for that one... even if it hurt like shit though" . To prove her point she gives her another wet smooch directly on her lips just because she can.
Ivy has to reluctantly respect that she cannot tame Harley that way.
Hmm perhaps she’s not such a ditzy moron after all . When has anyone been able to resist me except that loathsome brutish Bat? Who retaliated, knocking her cold with one armoured punch. When she woke, she was being shipped to Arkham in a straitjacket. She still wore the shirt she'd been issued as a reminder of her carelessness. Lucky it’s so easy to escape that shithole.
Ivy has no pity for any misogynistic jerk who might one day try and slip a roofie in Harley’s drink at the Iceberg Lounge; they would get exactly what they deserved.
She shakes that thought away with a toss of her head.
Penguin is gone and she is here instead. I can't punish him today or compel her to turn herself in, But the night is still young.
Suppressing an evil smile. She recovers with “Quite the little firebrand, aren't you?”
“ For sure! I see you're not so bad, not as evil as they all say in fact…
Seems pretty clear ta me you got a little crush on me don't cha?”
“Maybe.” she intones. Keeping her face straight hiding her ulterior motives.
Agree to any lie to bed her.
“I double dare ya to prove it then!” She laughs.
With that Ivy's fingers slide to the blonde's rear. Rubbing and squeaking across Harley's leather clad buttocks. Pumping the gas on their foreplay.
The tall redhead on top easily dominates the blonde.
Meanwhile Harley kisses Ivy at her temple, where red meets green.
Harley's hands reach for the tangle of knotted styled copper hair dreaming of letting those shimmering coils loose. Ivy breaks the kiss to tell her.
“Don't mess up my hair.” Isley wasn't giving herself up to anyone.
“Aww” whines Harley dejectedly before being distracted by more smooching.
Pale hands slip down the smooth slope of Ivy to her ass instead.
Harley moves from the lips to kiss the slender stem of Ivy's pale green neck
Chancing a few love bites here and there distracting Ivy by fondling a firm breast through her shirt copping a good feel.
Ivy's own hands wander up Harley's naked back, for a moment feeling raised lines of scar tissue under her fingertips as she slides her palms up further taking her all in.
Massaging then clasping their heads tight as they kiss.
Harley's undercut faintly reminds Ivy of her first girlfriend, a full punk rocker type who'd gone with Pam on her first ever protest march.
Then as Harley urgently presses her lips hard to hers holding them there, Ivy remembers who she is dealing with.
Ivy takes a moment to stand up to slip out of her trousers tossing them aside exposing sleek green thighs and only a thin pair of panties woven from leaves and soft stalks covering her sex. Harley's eyes boggle at the sight.
Ivy shuts her up with another long kiss before Harley can say anything else.
When they separate, thick strands of drool hang between their thirsty lips and make a shiny coating on their chins. Harley's alabaster complexion is sticky with shared saliva.
"Now that's a kiss" hums Ivy in a smooth voice.
Thinking enough foreplay, I am here for a reason. Instead of moving on she begins licking at Harley's neck with long drags of her tongue. Her eyes closed, Harley moans blissfully.
“Holy fuck Ivy!”
“I'm just getting started.” Ivy promises
Oddly, Harley almost hugs her running her hands across Ivy's back. Head nestling in her neck while Ivy laps at hers. finding this odd Ivy extricates herself, switching positions to kiss the other curve of Harleen's nape. Ivy so wet now, her foliage panties have almost fallen apart. Strange She has never found herself being aroused on a mission before. Irritated she pulls the rest of leafy strands away baring her sex.
By now she has pecked sufficiently at the soft flesh and tendons on both sides of the clown's neck. Getting her all flustered, cheeks tinged with pink. Ivy leans back asking
"Now Harley dear, what do you want to do to me?"
Mouth-watering with anticipation Harley silently puts 2 fingers in a V in front of her lips and seductively licks the air. mimicking cunnilingus.
"Good I knew you did," Ivy says casually. the true depths of her arousal betrayed by her swollen leaking mound. Her underwear now gone Harley got a good look at her most private spot.
It is an impressive sight. A full red jungle between her thighs, almost intimidating to Harley. Ivy’s out of control bush was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen with dense curls of thick hair climbing almost halfway to her navel.
"I want you to lie comfortably on your back and get ready." Ivy preferred to top, to dominate all her lovers but she had yearned for this moment, dreamed of it. Harley my eager slave. My obedient little toy.
Eager to please Harley can’t wait any longer wanting to taste her now! Harley lies on her back with her mouth wide open and pokes her long pink tongue out. Ivy spreads her legs like doing the splits till she is sitting comfortably on Harley's face. Knees around her neck. Sleek arms pressing down into the pillow on either side of her like a bamboo cage. Ivy grabs Harley by those adorable buns and shoves her nose into her bush like a dog into its own mess.
Eager to eat out a woman once more. Harley immediately gets busy,
Tongue dancing across Ivy's folds exploring, running riot on her lower lips.
Hands slipping under Ivy's shirt but respecting her wishes she doesn’t remove it.
instead stroking her back. finding Ivy's ribs, she massages them.
The only thing she can hear above her own pounding heart is Harley's eager licking and slurping. Every single one, a victory. Just look at her! Look what I've made her! I'm owed this.
Ivy has to toss her head in fits of rapture., her beehive quivers strands flopping into her face. Though she notes Harley's passion outweighs her focus.
Ivy snorts. She's licking at me like I'm a goddamn lollipop, but her passion is kind of cute. " You know you don't have to use just your tongue, right?”
“Duh! Of course-” she rolls her eyes. "I just wanna gobble ya up is all!”
Duly swapping from her lavish licks to big tender smooches on her clit.
Eventually Harley stops playing around and begins to endear herself to Ivy working only on her pleasure. Harley's servile tongue begins by stroking her outer lips sending chills across her body and core, Ivy shudders at phenomenal licking delivered at a crazy speed. Impressed, she has no choice but to tell her to slow it down just a little if she wants to find Ivy's golden rhythm.
At such backhanded praise, an amused Harley ponders guess eating pussy is like riding a bike, ya never forget! Soon there’s an oasis between Ivy's legs. Who gratefully leans back and rubs at Harley's loins in slow circles. Pleased to see they are already slick. Facing the wrong way for this, she blindly reaches back for the centre of Harley's pleasure. casually rubbing it as an afterthought, keeping her amped up. Harley is making soft watery eyes up at her so Ivy refuses to look out of spite. It would be all too easy to fall in those eyes and never get out.
"So, tell me how do I taste?" an aloof Ivy asks while riding her.
"Mmm Mmm Mmm so yummy!” Ivy tastes sweeter than any prior woman, though she can sense the cosy, earthy, salty tones of her sweat. Ivy refuses any toxic chemicals when she bathes. so, all Harley can smell, and taste is the purest organic concentrated scent of a woman. Maybe it's Harley's imagination but she tastes vague tropical hints of peach and aloe too. Like kissing the very bounty of nature.
“I've never tried green pussy before!" Ivy's outer folds are indeed a healthy inviting green like the rest of her, but her inner folds were a delicious pink. Harley stops rubbing up Ivy's back and gives her ass a tender slap, stimulating her buttocks before massaging them in slow circles. Then she roams up and under her shirt, every green inch of Ivy fascinates her.
Ivy starts bouncing up and down pounding off Harley’s face, the blonde’s licks even more frantic now determined to please her mistress. Harley aims to slip inside and tonguefuck her. Way too good for this to be her first-time performing cunnilingus.
Ivy wishes she could allow herself to spin round and devote herself to pleasuring Harley's body. But she must remain in control. Loving Harley's body but having only scorn for her wild careless soul.
Harley can't hold off any longer and begins pecking and sucking on the seed of Ivy's clit. Having waited for as long as she could. Ivy's body is silently crying out for it. Her lips and tongue soothing with their gentle touch, filling her with cool fire.
"Mmm so this isn't your first pussy, is it?" muses Ivy rocking her body into Harley.
"Well, I mighta munched on a few carpets in college" admits the hyperactive clown stopping to respond, easily distracted.
“Well, that's very good news cos you're going to be sucking and fucking me all night long." warns Ivy thinking mmm it shows longing to turn round and fuck her properly but remaining true to herself and merely making the most of a few fingers while Gyrating on top in a rapid sporting rhythm.
.
“Awesome! I'm so gonna make ya cum Ivy! I wanna ta see if you squirt green too!”
Before continuing to tend to her lady garden.
“What makes you think you have it takes dear?” Laughs Ivy “Though you may have a better chance if I'm sitting.” Thinking I will be way more comfortable in the chair . Thinking she might lose her balance Harley indeed brought her to orgasm and it looked like she just might. She is far better at this than I anticipated.
Harley thinks Ivy's callous confidence is so cool, spurring her on to impress.
Ivy abruptly rips away, getting up, striding into Penguin's comfy antique armchair where she lies back waiting for Harley who jumps off the bed landing with an athletic flourish. She curtsies like its try outs again and kneels before Ivy in supplication. Really getting turned on by Ivy's bossy dominatrix spirit, all too easy for Harley to slip into her old obedient and submissive role but she enjoys this.
On the floor Harley crawls toward Ivy's waiting crotch, her legs spread wide ushering her in. fertile heat coming off her in waves. Ivy’s sex appeal so thick in the air you could cut it with a knife.
The redhead locks both legs around Harley’s naked back keeping her trapped down there, not that Harley even dreams of leaving. Diving back into her task with gusto. Attempting to make this elven featured beauty cum should have been daunting but Harley was never one for anxiety.
Harley runs her cheeks against her. Letting Ivy’s seeping pussy lips kiss her face.
Smiling at her good fortune. Going with the flow has led her to the night of her life!
“Mmm” she purrs.
Using her fingers to outer spread Ivy’s lips and get stuck in!
Smearing her tongue all over her most delicate area. Drawing easy circles around her labia. She transitions into slipping her tongue up the quivering seeping seam. Preferring to use her soft tongue against Ivy’s clitoris. Fingers now rubbing down as she licks up.
“Mmm urgh oh fuck!” Ivy lets slip a pleasured moan. Harley is so goddamn good at this! Her constantly wagging tongue finally put to good use.
Ivy’s clit fully out of its hood now Harley notices it’s vivid green too.
"I do like my clit sucked." Ivy orders. Not that she needs to ask as it already looks so enticing to the blonde who obliges, pulling it between her lips. Harley, a fidgeter by nature, quickly switches up and begins to flurry her tongue against it.
Ivy marvels at how rapid the blonde's strokes are. Her pink tongue rapidly flurries against Ivy.
Ivy’s back arches from the intense feeling. Unable to hold in her graphic exultations.
Or a fresh flood of sticky sap from her core. Her pulsating sex, spreading goosebumps and cute little gasps, Telling Harley everything Ivy won’t verbally.
Ivy loves this! Harley Quinn on her knees before her in supplication licking her out like a little sapphic slut. If only I had a camera. Harley's reputation as a feared and respected criminal would be finished. That would be one hell of a punishment.
Harley does as she pleases now without any prompting with Ivy. Tonguing her deeply now. Using the tip of a finger to circle her clit as she licks up inside her humid slit. Lips and mouth soothing her labia. Placing her whole mouth around her sucking on her, just what Ivy loves, the unmistakable feel of a woman's soft lips on her apex.
Harley's own needs are growing too. She wants to reach down to tend to herself
But she is busy revelling in Ivy, her spare hand rubbing Ivy's slick thighs. Using her tongue to tickle her clitoris. Making it personal. Wanting to be as close as possible to the incoming orgasm.
“You are a messy eater, Quinn.” She says with a hushed voice and a wide grin suddenly feeling disarmed. Pam couldn't help but smile at her, Ivy’s temper rising for giving her even that. Irritation spoiling her pleasure. She bites her lower lip to hold in any gasps or cries or worse praise.
Looking forward to humiliating Harley later though somehow Quinn feels no shame at being on her knees eating her out. Harley keeps her tongue on her clitoris but slips a finger inside her hole
And finds out she has a nice spongy g spot too seems even Metahuman mutants have a weak spot.
While drifting in deep fantasies of vengeance. Ivy stops holding back, losing control. she hits her climax. As Harley feels Ivy's walls contract tight round her finger, she plucks it out. Hoping to see Ivy’s complete show!
Orgasming. Its arrival was shocking to Ivy, a rapid ascent not the usual climb!
Toes curling, her legs kick out.
She droops in the chair sprawling out before
shooting straight back up, her back spasming. She squirts!
“Oh Fuck!” She hollers.
Harley's mouth opens, her tongue outstretched hoping to catch as much of the showering cum. Awww turns out she doesn't squirt green, she cums just like everybody else. Though still relishing the rare taste of this unique woman.
With her last vestige of sanity Ivy makes sure to spray cum all over Harley’s face and hair. Marking that beautiful pasty skin with her scent.
Powerful noises escape Ivy, primal animal sounds. She's doesn't even realise she's making them.
Eyes aglow but unfocused.
For the first time in an eternity, she forgets her responsibilities.
Her crusade, her stresses and worries all melt and pour out of her.
Her most powerful orgasm yet.
It fills her body making her quiver
Not even caring that the hated Harley is seeing her like this because the colossal waves of her orgasm are smashing her hatred like sandcastles at high tide.
Ivy is washed away.
Ivy screams and screams. With every heartbeat she pumps cum onto the overpriced bearskin rug. The wet patter of her liquid and Harleys giggles covered by Ivy’s own keening.
Scrunching her face almost in pain as she keeps on squirting. The whole night's worth of lust released in one go.
Before the orgasm sends her crashing back down again
Limb's wilting. Hanging limp loose and spent.
But her sex left still throbbing.
Ivy is a leaf on the wind. A slave to the whims of her climax, warm velvety gusts sending her drifting into what feels like warm summer grass.
Feeling more than she’s allowed herself too in years.
She bathes in it lying there, hands draped over the armchair.
Catching her breath not drawing to move in case of sensory overload
Thinking Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!
yet remaining as impassive as a statue.
Once the redhead stops squirting the blonde surfaces, her lipstick smeared, and face covered. Harley a big fan of aftercare, showers Ivy's legs and belly in soft kisses,
while also massaging her legs. Making sure to maximise her pleasure without overstimulating her. Wanting to ask Ivy what else she wants but Ivy can't even speak right now.
Eventually her orgasm mellows, and Ivy feels solid again.
Looking frazzled; she's killed dozens without a hair falling out of place yet now there are lank strands falling all round her emerald face.
The folded flesh at her apex still pulsing.
Fresh drops of cum accumulating in her dark red pubic curls
Dimly aware of Harleys kisses till they stop coming.
Thinking soft happy thoughts. Forgetting her purpose for the first time in a long time.
Barely recognizing her own mind. Ok so that's a lot better than anything I get from my intoxicated sycophants. Hmm it's a lot hotter when they’re not brainwashed.
When Pam can actually open her eyes, she sees Harley inches away with dreamy eyes waiting to kiss Ivy on the lips in her afterglow.
Ivy would normally refuse but instead Pam kisses her back.
Tasting her own ejaculation for the first time.
Ignoring it, too busy chasing Harley’s tongue, for a follow up on what was probably the best orgasm of her life.
Making out like lovers sharing and swapping Ivy's own climax.
As her orgasm fades like a come down, Ivy Indignantly realises she's got her own cum in her mouth!
Snapping out of it fuming What the fuck am I doing?
The sweetness of the kiss vanishes, Pam feeling dirty and weak.
an undignified salty sticky goo filling her mouth.
A tender romantic gesture Exactly the opposite of what she intended to happen
Ivy suddenly pushes her away, remembering herself
Harley was making her weak and pliable and like a stupid human!
Angry at letting her mask slip, though pretending to be almost alien and inhuman
as Ivy was exhausting. Slipping back into kind, timid Pam was easy but then weakness was.
Reams of Ivy's own sticky heat run down her green legs.
Her shirt tails sodden.
I'm not the one that's supposed to get messy. She fumes
At least Harley has cum all over her face, neck, and breasts.
Harley a little miffed about being shoved away tries to get Ivy to smile some more by licking splodges of Ivy’s cum of her fingers.
“Mmm I just love to taste ya!”
Ivy doesn't even smirk ashamed and with much more on her mind. Thinking about how easily she’d slipped back into a free and happy state of her mind, her code and ethics forgotten. A vulnerable state where she would agree to anything were her concerns melted away. A mindset that was too good to be true. A happy falsehood, a joke.
Harley licks up all the cum she can reach. Dabbing at the other damp patches on her face with Penguins clothes. She ignores the hot spray on the rest of her body. Ivy eventually rises declaring
“ Not bad.” wanting to move on she purrs softly “Now it's your turn “
Harley shoots up ready, grinning a stupid giddy clownish grin even wider than Ivy had mid orgasm. She was all ready to go down on her all over again, but this is even better!
The taller redhead looks down at her prey and Harley begins subconsciously retreating towards the bed. Feet squelching in Ivy's mess.
Ivy deftly steps around her own puddle of cum and stalks Harley.
Both of Ivy's palms shoot out, slamming Harley down hard onto the bed.
giggling Harley scrambles up to the pillows looking up at the redhead excited to see what she is gonna do next. I love this rough stuff!
Ivy bites her own lip with enthusiasm. Rolling it past her teeth, eyes half closed like menacing green slits. Slowly walking towards her.
Harley looks up at the most dangerous woman in Gotham wearing her cheap flimsy red Arkham shirt like it's the finest silk dress. The hem flapping at her belly. Eye popping cleavage straining at the top. Oh boy! Oh boy! Damn! she knows how to flaunt herself! This is gonna be so freaking hot! Selina’s gonna be so jealous when I tell her!
To Isleys' eye Harley’s whole body from her painted toenails to her solid shoulders is a perfect canvas of pure pale flesh. That she can't wait to kiss, bite, lick and play with. Instead of telling her that, she commands
“C’mon get those pants off.”
Harley unzips them and her boots and hurls them away at lightning speed.
So fast that her underwear goes with them.
Harley's head is propped by several pillows, Ivy places one on the floor for her knees, then leaps on top of her again. They share a kiss full of fire and passion.
Ivy feeling more alive than ever, drags her tongue up the minx's neck even harder this time. Making the blonde shiver from the intensity.
“You're mine.” Ivy whispers into a pale ear.
“Oooh I like ya tongue on my neck.” Harley murmurs quietly not wanting to distract her from this. Ivy lays more yet kisses upon the former sidekick. Plump lips smacking on the shaven parts of her head, finding the sensitive stubble sexy.
Now Ivy kisses down her body not missing a spot neck, shoulders, collarbone, and breasts. Harley’s hard nipples quivering like bed springs at her touch.
Ivy gives her a masterclass in foreplay stoking her arousal to boiling point.
“Thanks Ivy I so needed this.”
Ivy ignores her busy kneading her chest like fresh dough. Taking her not loving her. Rolling her nipples between her teeth, liking how erect they are. Nibbling at her breasts like she has half a mind to bite them off.
Then Ivy kisses and sucks her way down her sides to her belly button
Pressing her face deep into Harley's body, nuzzling. Her hands squishing the former athlete's sculpted body. Licking it, twirling her tongue around the whorl of her navel. Giving her a little appetiser of what she was about to do to her clitoris and labia
She's got the cutest, softest little belly button Ivy couldn't help herself.
Harley had no idea this could feel so good
Something to incorporate next time I get my vibrator out, she thinks.
having never been kissed or touched there before, no one had ever bothered
This is the most anyone’s ever appreciated my body. Nobody’s ever been this tender
I’m in for a treat! Thought the blonde.
Ivy could have spent ages there; judging by Harley's soft moans and sighs she was enjoying this almost as much as her.
Ivy rises and glances again at her nude form. Her smooth stomach is absolutely perfect, soft as a warm pillow till you press into the reassuring firmness of the athlete's toned and honed muscles hidden under the creamy expanse of her belly still smooth as marble.
But Ivy would not give her the satisfaction of telling her any of that.
Ivy rises up grinning the most mischievous grin. She had never looked or felt more dangerous. before at last descending like a swooping demon towards Harley's longing sex.
Harley couldn’t be anymore stimulated or ready for this.
I'm finally gonna get my pussy eaten again and by the one and only Poison Ivy no less!” Harley spreads her legs out to almost 90 degrees eliciting a cocked eyebrow from an impressed Ivy
“I used to be a gymnast,'' she explains.
“Really?” She mocks her cruelly. Denying her herself the chance to give her any compliments. “Obviously not a successful one.” referring to the fact she was never on TV. Even though she knows full well of all that having read Harleys FBI’s most wanted log.
“Well, I never did win a medal” admits Harley somewhat bitterly thinking mostly thanks to my shitty unsupportive family.
Ivy moves on kissing then licking the athletes' thighs
Mmmm Harley really does have great legs .
Lingering traces of Harley's sweat leaving her a salty aftertaste like circus popcorn.
She rolls up her sleeves with a magician's flourish
Ultimately Harley is consumed by desire. Her whole body revolves around this. Only when her only thought is about Ivy, does the Metahuman at last judge her aroused enough .
Ivy draws up her throat like a feral cat and spits directly on Harley's pussy showing her contempt and her kinky side simultaneously.
About to make use of her improvised lube, she goes to slide a finger in a circular motion around the blonde’s entrance, but Harley shudders.
“Yowch! Jeez Ivy ya nails are way too sharp!”
Ivy examines them; she doesn't really opt for fitting in with people anymore. Far from unkempt but her nails jut over her fingertips. Damn! She's right if I want to do this, I'll have to get more intimate. I mean that's not so bad...
Ivy instead applies her fingertips to spread the almost diamond shaped lips of her pussy. She breathes in the scent of Harley's arousal, damning evidence of Ivy's power.
Savouring this power play Ivy slowly draws her tongue up from the middle of her taint towards Harley's slit, upon contact moving with even more care. Forcing her clit to wait an eternity. Dragging this moment out for as long as possible. Having not been on the generous end in years. Having remade her heart out of unyielding ironwood. In another life she’d vowed “no more love” and she stood firmly rooted to that. Only her thralls serve as her devoted lovers. Ivy at last attacks her clit.
Recreating that motion faster and faster and faster licking her way up
Making sure every single nerve ending in her clitoris is sparking.
as a reflex at the deft strokes Harley snickers at first, though she is soon sucking in desperate breaths. Receiving the best oral of her life. Ivy sure shows Harley how it’s done. No one has ever made her feel more complete, more womanly, more alive!
Ivy's mere touch is incredible!
Fuck! Is this how it's supposed to be? Does it feel like this because it’s a metahuman or because it's actually real? For the first time I actually feel like the clown princess! No, not a princess, a Queen! Or a goddess like Ivy!”
During her devilish gorging Ivy sure looks even hotter to Harleen.
Hands gathering up her thighs, a demonic grin of perverse pleasure on her face.
Her shirt and bunched up hair reminding her of that hot schoolteacher she used to have a crush on. Harley feels like she’s finally getting to know this mysterious femme fatale and she likes her! Ivy eyes roll up with glee to watch her every subtle twitch.
She’s super interested in me! She deduces with glee .
Ivy feasts on her wet cunt since it's far too long since she'd been in this position. Unable to deny her urges to give pleasure like this, even though pleasing people was not her purpose anymore. She can't help herself this time. It's her first time topping in years.
She doesn't care to ask Harley how she likes it, so she branches out, testing her.
Finding in a eureka moment that Harley loves having her clit kissed. But cares less for nibbling. Sadly, Ivy needs to be affectionate for this to work.
Ivy's skill is unreal, getting an endless stream gushing from her like a mortal wound.
Harley has never been so wet in her life. Ivy graciously drinks down her welcome fluids. Wanting to bathe in her.
She can feel the blonde’s slit pulsing, hear her breaths intensify, smell the excitement in her sweat. Ivy is excellent at sensing moods via pheromones. The only hard part is not accidentally tipping her over the edge.
Exhaling in relief, Harley reaches down and gently squeezes Ivy's head in further.
Ivy does not like that, one, bit. She knows exactly what she's doing.
Not wanting Harley’s hands to get in her way again. She summons her green vines out of the potted plants. Curling up the bed they gently wrap around Harley's arms and comfortably pin them beside her on the bed.
“Oooh nice and kinky Ivy!” Harley giggles with excitement. Unphased by bondage.
Ivy is more than happy for Harley to suggest to her how she likes it, spilling her secrets and telling her all her weaknesses. She is my hostage now and she has no idea.
The ecoterrorist is soothing when she wants to, giving a massage for her vulva
Before giving in to the truth of her wild, feral, unrestrained passion.
She kept some kind of complex rhythm that was as unreadable to her as sheet music But, it sure sounds good to Harley. seemed like she was reaching the crescendo. Her doting tongue and lips taking Harley to places she never dreamed of.
Just as Harley is about to reach her peak as her body tingles and orgasm pushes at her soul, as her voice breaks, as her moans reach fever pitch.
Ivy is gone. Taking her climax with her. Leaving her void, her mouth is a noticeable absence to Harley. Her sex feels colder without Ivys warm mouth and twitches reaching out for her. It'd be that easy thinks Ivy
“Huh Ivy? I'm busting here!” Harley whines thrown off, screwing up her brow.
“Oh, did you think you were just going to get off easily? She jeers sardonically
“Ohhh you are a bad, bad girl. Why didn't cha say? Ya doing such a great job tending to my garden. I was wondering when ya gonna let me do the watering?”
Harley finds its easy to fall back into being the submissive sexual partner in the relationship, it's her comfort zone. Though she will never let herself be a sidekick again.
Ivy returns to tease her, and Harley's head falls back into the pillows. Her perfect white smile, a stark contrast to the dark sheets.
Ivy edges her, showing far more patience and interest in her than any of her exes. Harley's few forays with women hadn't the time for something so complex; having only been experimental one-night stands. As for her hook-ups with men, well making her cum had been effort enough.
A humorous thought occurs to her. “It's funny!” Harley giggles
“What is?” Ivy snarls trying to concentrate, pulling away to hear her explanation.
“Ya seduce men for a living and yet ya clearly love women dontcha?! Kinda ironic
Aint it?” Making an astute observation about where her heart lies.
Ivy silently glares angry that Harley cut right to the heart of her. It was true.
Infuriatingly true.
“Cmon Ives ya have ta laugh at that.”
She pushes Harley's head back down. And gets back to work. Finding a routine devouring her bounty.
Till Harley’s belly rises and falls with each of her exerted breaths.
Knowing precisely when Harley is close to climax because only then does, she finally fall silent, so that's when she withdraws, savouring her pleasure, edging her, growing an orgasm beyond her wildest dreams. Intensifying her pleasure rather than just making her cum and calling it a night.
“Of all the loot in this place you're the most precious thing here Ivy” Harley breathes flirtily, unable to believe her luck. I hit the jackpot!
That only confirms to Ivy she must ruin this now, to stop herself from coming back for more. If she betrays her own standards, she will question her whole philosophy.
Harley is so soothed and relaxed she would agree to anything Ivy says...
Ivy was scratching an itch in her soul; she had longed for this loving attention her whole life and had never got it. That very need for love had led her into the Joker's arms. This is more love than she had ever known. She flutters her eyes at Ivy who seems to stare through her. She is kinda busy though . Harley excuses
Lying in the sticky mess of her own juices. Feeling sweaty impressions under her wriggling back. It's hard for her to believe she hasn't cum yet, she's wetter than ever before. Giggling she thinks Penguins bed will never be the same!
“Fuck Ivy you're super, all right!” Harleys adds bucking like a bronco.
“Do you always talk so much?” she sighs wearily.
“Usually more. But I'm a lil preoccupied at the mo.”
A simple orgasm would have been enough for her. but Ivy goes something Harley has neither the patience nor practice to even try on herself. Rather than jogging to her orgasm she seems to be making a marathon out of it. This is gonna be friggin psychedelic! Groovy!
Ivy muses. I've been waiting for this. Taking her on my own terms with all the time in the world and my newfound skills. Harley is at my mercy and I'm licking her weakest point. Listening as intently as a safecracker for any sign she’s on the brink.
“Mmm. Mmm. Mmm! Fuck! Take ya time Ivy.” gasps Harley half wanting her to keep this teasing up, the other half aching for release already. I couldn't do this kinda work she doesn't have the patience, Shit! I woulda caved in ages ago!
Ivy fumes How dare she enjoy any of this? It’s robbing me of my own pleasure aiming to fuck her not make love. Losing her patience, she roughly sucks on her clitoris. Before pulling back again to admire her prisoner's pained moans and expressions. She clearly has been left wanting for a good lover since Joker died. It would be so easy to make her cum, so easy.
“Arrrghhh!” She screams in frustration and excitement.
Harley tosses her head side to side loving every minute of this. Ivy has the bedroom skills to blow her mind and make her cum harder than anything she's ever known. She welcomes all of it. Constantly fidgeting, twitching, spasming; she cannot contain the pleasure inside her, the excitement. The adrenaline rushes.
Ivy returns to Harley who's hyperventilating in seconds, her fists clenching on bunches of the bespoke bed sheets. She turns her head one way thinking she'll blow too early if she keeps staring down at Ivy. Looking at Cobblepots priceless watercolour of Napoleon then she tosses the other way, staring at Penguin's umbrella rack instead.
“Urggghhh!” She howls. Feet and toes cramping due to erotic sensations filling her with no outlet. She wiggles them vigorously.
That noise Ivy’s cue to pull back again, to the blonde she is a vision in scarlet, all that red only accentuating her the hue of her verdant skin.
“Fuck! Ivy ya can't keep this up!”
Buzzing Harley has a million questions to ask Ivy no longer caring why this is happening because she’s on the precipice of an orgasm bigger than anything she has ever dreamt of. This is fucking wild! I've never done it with a metahuman before!
No wonder Catwoman’s always droning about Batsy! Superheroes are incredible! I do hope I get to cum so soon though I can't hold on much longer. This next one has gotta be it!
“So, who's the best in bed?” Ivy interrogates.
“You are!” She screams urgently, understanding mind games better than anybody else.
“And who's the most powerful woman in Gotham?”
“Ivvvy!”
The correct answers Ivy resumes, first striking with a casual lick up her entrance, almost sending her shooting up the bed, like Ivy was touching her with a livewire.
Harley involuntarily blinks rapidly and quivers.
Ivy continues edging her building up the pressure till she is inconsolable.
Attacking her in waves till she's teetering on the edge of something cataclysmic.
A sore twisting pain manifests in her guts.
“Ivyyyyy!” She calls out for her.” I'm gonna cum!”
Ivy pulls back yet again admiring her handiwork, an utterly drenched pussy already pulsating, pink inner labia heaving with Harley's heartbeat.
Harley sure is vocal. She admires.
Harley is sweating up a storm
I'm gonna scream this house down when I actually cum!
deep welcome roots of carnal delight spreading through her,
Selina’s gonna be so jealous of this when I tell her ha!
This is gonna be full body! Probably out of body too! A way better high than snorting coke with Mista J’s goons. Her only fear, passing out midway through and missing a single second of it,
Ivy swoops back in sucking on her labia tongue curling against her slit
Lips smushing her hard clit.
The aching sensation now unbearable Harley craves release. All this stress will soon be worth it. All ready to ride the crest of this high like surfing.
Damn! She's skilful! I coulda cum three times already! She must be really into me! Her need is painful now. Understanding she can't best the Metahuman. Knowing she will snap if Ivy winds her up anymore…
“I can't hold it any longer, I gotta cum Ivy! Finish me off!” Harley announces admitting her hunger. Knowing her limits.
“No.” refuses Ivy coldly rearing away entirely.
“What?” Gasps Harley chill fear lashing up her spine. As her pressure rises to a roaring zenith, her impending orgasm vanishes. I don't like this kinda teasing.
“You don’t deserve one.”
You’re kidding right Ivy? You wouldn't do that would ya? Only Mista J could be that cruel
“Oh no I don’t kid. I'm keeping you on the edge till you cry” States Ivy haughtily.
Nah! No, I can't have stumbled into a trap this easy like a total amateur !
But before she can escape Ivy’s clutches, she commands the vines to wrap tighter around Harley’s arms and snare her ankles too, pinning her legs wide open on the bed. Taking no chances.
“Oh, and I'll be taking the bonds too.” Sneers Ivy. I don't even need them, but I can always use them. Hopelessly confused Harley nearly sobs at this sudden turn of events. Everything's ruined but why? She struggles against the vines, but they adapt to her squirming; sadly, this was nothing like escaping handcuffs or zip ties; she could do those with her eyes closed. Thanks for that Joker she thinks with sarcasm
The looming Ivy grins a fiendish grin. Before gladly pouncing once more, slurping up the wet length of Harleys slit. Enjoying every squeal, she can get out of her.
“Urrrgh” Harley spasms overstimulated now “This ain’t funny!”
What the fuck! What have I done? No! No! No! This isn't happening!
How could such a fun night turn so bad? Imagine If Mista J saw me now!
Just as Harley begins to feel her climax growing again hoping this is all some weird kinky game and Ivy will be kind. Ivy rears back sneering, savouring her distress.
Worries turn from spoiling her orgasm to whether she gets one at all.
“Cmon Ivy stop fucking around!” Unable to bear the pressure, now she fears she won't get to climax. This is just some game right?
Ivy glares at her smiling evilly then swoops down like a bird of prey. Hitting her again.
This time it isn't even remotely fun.
Ivy’s incredible tongue becomes a superweapon. pleasure now turning to hot pain. Harley is sore, raw, and extra sensitive at her pulsing core. Whole body twitching and crying out for release. She couldn’t suppress herself and she couldn't let go either.
This is no joke, not some kinky S&M type shit! She really means to mess me up! That cunt!
“Ya bitch!” She calls Ivy as she takes her to breaking point; she feels like a prisoner on the rack suspended by green vines coiling round her tugging at her limbs
trussed up like a pale slice of dead meat. Ivy bunched up at her core. Writhing and coiling like a serpent sparing no part of her.
Ivy’s eyes fill with mirth as she licks her raw. Her body sparking and burning like a livewire. Feeling overloaded like when she tries masturbating through an orgasm.
“Fuck you! Ya green witch!” Harley then curses her some more calling her every creative name and insult under the sun.
Just as before she got close, oh so close, she can almost reach out and touch it….
And yet again Ivy recoils making it slip away.
Grinning, Ivy looks at her with the same sadistic grin she had seen a thousand times before in her old life and in her new nightmares. She's not him though.
Harley reels for any explanation as to why this total stranger had seduced her only to taunt her. The look in her alien green eyes shows how deadly serious she is. I shoulda known it was too good to be true.
Ivy leers down at her. Like sweet to sour what had been incredible pleasure was now turning to excruciating pain, the intense pressure building inside, dwarfing the brief moments of stimulation that only wind her up tighter and tighter like a clockwork toy.
Harley imagines this is what childbirth is like: an immense pressure that seems bigger than she was. It feels like it’s cutting into her groin. Aching she could feel it up her lower tendons, like she is made of molten metal. She wants to help release it, but she physically was not able. Her pulsing slit incapable of even taking the edge off
Harley groans in pain like she had taken yet another bullet wound.
wet pussy still dripping. Her pulsing clit erect and offering itself up. Her own body betrays her. Harley hasn't been so open in so long. And this is what it gets her.
Legs cramping. She throws her head back and forth, beating it against the pillow.
Clit still popped out of its hood, handing itself over to Ivy for agonising stimulation
Ivy pinches it cruelly making Harley throw her head back in a fizzing blend of agony and ecstasy. She rolls the bead between her fingers eliciting as much overwhelming jolting sensation from Harley.
Even Mista J’s cruellest pranks had been over quicker. He had never hurt her here before, just used her and left. She had healed bones, burns, and bruises all over her, except here, this was the one part of her he had loved, well that and my boobs.
She thought she had seen it all but even Mista J simply never had the interest to do this to her.
How can she invoke so much with just her mouth? Harley breaks. No point fighting a sadist, they just enjoy it more.
“Nooo! Nooo! Nooo Ivy! Pleasee?” This is just like being with him. I thought I escaped. Harley regresses back to when Mista J mad was in a bad mood. Looking for mercy.
She wheedles. She pleads and whines all to no avail. Suffering though what felt like period cramps but far worse now.
“Please let me cum!” she begs while thrashing
“I'll do anything you want! Whatever ya need I can get it!” She howls
Still silent Ivy shakes her head and licks her lips menacingly.
The once soft feeling of her tongue and lips now harsh as she torments her
Making her strain for a tantalising orgasm that is just out of reach.
A disgusted Ivy thinks After all this time hating and fearing her, she is as pathetic as a whiny child. Not used to orgasm denial so Harley’s constant pained wails and howls were irritating her, not the kind of screaming she usually looked for in sex.
Harley’s stressful tears flow, smearing her mascara.
She can't help but be racked by soft pathetic sobbing. Her groans turn to cries.
Enduring the stressful stimulation. Her mascara and her confident persona ruined and running down her face and legs, respectively. She feels so silly as her purple eyeshadow dissolves. She can't even wipe it off; finally feeling like a clown. How'd I make the same mistake twice? shame on me.
She can still feel the brimming thundercloud yearning for release inside her.
Her crotch has spikes digging into her gut. She wants to double over but she can't do that either. The vines keep her bound.
Ivy reaches out to strum her clit with a callous finger while she rests her aching jaw.
“You want to cum?”
“Oh, Gawd yes!” Foolhardily grasping for any chance of salvation.
“You need me to make you cum?”
“Yes! I do!” she shrieks as Ivy softly runs green fingertips over quivering, spasming tissue.
“Beg me then Harley!” She demands. She has to see her lowered to her weakest.
“I'm begging you! I'll do anything ya want!” Instantly resorting to pitiful pleading just like when Mista J was mad with her. She’d sell her soul for an orgasm right now! this is pure torture!
Ivy ignores her pleas. Harley struggles some more in extreme discomfort, loins aching utterly consumed by her need to cum.
“Louder!” Ivy demands
“Please make me cum Ivy!” Another wave churns up her guts reminding her of her needs. The worst stomach-ache she's ever had.
Ivy gives her hope leaning in rolling the ball of her clit with a finger.
Attacking her lips with slashes of her tongue. Sucking down all the cum she can’t help but produce. The spiralling finger making her tremble, till Ivy cruelly snatches it away. Lifting her mouth of Harleys sex. Orgasm eluding her yet again.
“Never gonna happen Harley you've been a very bad girl.” She laughs. Getting off mentally on ruining her. Not so tough now! not so cocky! not so smug. I hope it hurts bitch! Ivy rubs her legs keeping her hot, enjoying her shivers.
Harley fully crying now tears running down a white painted face mired in sweat.
Ivys crazier than he was
She didn’t want to fight her anymore or moan or beg
She just wants it to be over.
Just get it done. Accepting her fate and hoping to play dead and not inflame Ivy's wrath She stops begging and just keeps asking herself Why? Why? Why?
Ivy slithers back down with dragging her tongue up her slit.
Sneaking looks at her screwed up face as she suffers.
Seeing how implacable Ivy is. Her cruelty makes her think of what she wanted to do to him and what she wanted to tell him, finding her inner strength.
She faces Ivy down gritting her teeth. Fists clenching. Till her painted nails cut into her palm. She curls her toes too. Anything to distract herself. I've handled worse.
When Ivy looks up again, she sees Harley's burning glare. Her tendons taut.
Harley forces herself to pull an insane smile like Mista J who she'd seen smile through even the most brutal beating from Batman. Denying Ivy her suffering. One sane lover isn't too much to friggin ask for! She’ll get bored.
A fatigued Ivy eliciting no reaction stops and sits back. Clever little girl sucking the fun out of it. took me ages to figure that out and best my own school bullies. Harley is horny and powerless exactly where she'd left her several years and what felt like a lifetime ago. Her lust for vengeance now almost sated.
With that Ivy finally departs from Harley wiping her mouth off on Harley’s tank top.
She drapes herself across the armchair a safe distance from Harley admiring her handiwork. Penguin's bed stained with Harleys juices. His antique armchair and his disgustingly tacky bearskin rug ruined with her own ejaculation. Ivy mulling over what to do to her now. An unsatisfying ruined orgasm or more denial? She triumphantly strides over like Boudicca after a victory. Still far from being bored with Harley's body.
“How are you feeling Harley?” Ivy teases sadistically standing over her in triumph at the end of the bed. Still planning to taunt her clit some more. Harley for once not smiling with grey streaks down her face, blonde hair frizzy, finally knocked for six.
“Fuck you, Ivy! Ya gonna kill me too now or what?”
“Oh no darling I have so much more planned for you. I wonder where Penguin’s wife keeps her vibrator?” It’s almost certainly a powerful model too, that fat old troll is probably useless in bed.
“I can't believe I let you fuck me! You're evil! That coulda been amazing! Why the fuck would ya get me all revved up and then deny me? Why were ya so cruel?! I don’t even know you! I just wanted to hook up with you. It was your idea anyway ya evil bitch! I can't believe ya made me cry .”
Those words struck home stinging Ivy's triumph like nettles. Spoiling her satisfaction.
Harley sounded like a crying child and neither Poison Ivy nor Pamela could harm children. Ivy perches on the end of the bed. I'm not used to this
“I was having such a wonderful time, '' Harley wails. It's been sooo long since anyone since anybody bothered to…” She trails off, a lump building in her throat.
“Weren't you with the Joker just a couple of years ago?” Ivy snorts, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, but that doesn't mean that I was getting my pussy eaten…”
“Hold on! You mean Mista J-I mean the Joker didn’t …?
“Nope, not ever. He never really loved me, not even a little bit.”
Ivy didn’t show any reaction but inside she felt bad for Harley all of a sudden.
This was shocking! She’d assumed they were peas in a pod. She shifts closer to the bound Harley without thinking.
“I mean he did worse things.” Harley waffles on “trying to get me to toughen up or so he claimed ya know. But I'm over him now I swear.” and she is but that doesn't mean she's forgotten.
“Like what things? "Asks a curious Ivy before she could stop herself in a dangerous voice not liking what she was hearing. Hungry for gossip. Tugging at this root seeing what buried secrets it leads to.
Well, he used to chain me up sometimes or make me wait in a jail cell till he thought he wouldn’t come for me, but he always rescued me eventually.” She smiles sadly
“Harley- I had no idea.” dropping the inhuman forest nymph persona for the first time in front of anyone. Feeling empathy for Harley; it had been a while since she’d felt that for any human. But the Joker sickens her, Ivy was no sadist; doing what she has to for Mother Nature, enjoying her work but only going after those who really deserve it. She knew what sick atrocities the Joker was guilty of. She assumed Harley was just as evil but now she seemed more like…
“I thought you and the Joker were just like each other. I had no idea your relationship was so abusive, so toxic… Wait a minute Harley, sit up .” Ivy orders discerning something she’d felt earlier, loosening her vine bonds enough. Having had Harley on her back for most of the night, incidentally she’d been hiding the plethora of lacerations across her back.
Unmistakable whip marks.
“Oh, fuck off!” Yells Ivy at last realising what the Joker had been to Harleen. The cold hard truth fills her like ice water. They hadn't been partners, she wasn't the female Joker at all, she was his put-upon property. He’d actually been abusing this adorable woman! Ivy shivers at the man's madness even now. Rethinking everything, she thought she knew about Harley.
“Yeah, he got real violent when he got bored. The bruises all faded ages ago. 'Harley wasn't proud of any of this; she didn't wanna talk about it, it's mortifying. The scars are the only evidence they had been together. Thank fuck, I was never stupid enough to get any tattoos of him!
How could you let this happen to you? Ivy demands. Aware of abusive relationships but a woman that strong, that fit, that smart … emotions are slipping onto her face.
“How could you let him?”
Harley notices how human Ivy's voice sounds now, softer, and more emotive.
“I mean we had some good times and thought I coulda changed him
I thought if I just acted like him, he’d love me and maybe things woulda gotten better if the Bat hadn't let him die of Titan Poisoning… Why do you even care anyway? Five minutes ago, ya were gonna hurt me some more!” Harley is embarrassed now, the Joker was her past, her origin story, but her future lies ahead of her.
“You deserved it Harley anyway we’re even now.” Ivy folds her arms, finding her motive has less conviction in it than before.
“Ya humiliated me! Psycho! No wonder ya work alone. Ya deserve it just like he did.”
Ivy fidgets feeling awkward, all her revenge fantasies hadn’t dealt with the aftermath but sitting here seeing Harley vulnerable like this it's as if she's her sadistic ex-boyfriend.. Oh shit! I'm the monster here! She’d finally crossed the line from ecoterrorist to supervillain. The tables had turned and suddenly Ivy didn't recognize herself. She feels sick to her stomach.
“You hurt me first.” Ivy whispers looking down at the floor ashamed of her actions for the first time since her rebirth. Feeling self-conscious of what she had done and who she had been.
“What?”
“You hurt me first years ago,” She confesses. Louder now.
“What? When?”
“You kissed me and stripped me in front of everyone. Forget it. It was all so long ago.” It sounded so small and pathetic out loud. Her world had changed immensely since then.
“Could ya be more specific? Though she had a terrible feeling in her gut that an old mistake has come back to bite her. I thought I could impress Mista J.
“No.” said Ivy sternly. Vowing Pam is dead I will not resurrect her if she can't remember her then good. It's a traumatic memory anyway.
Harley looks at all that rich red hair, exotic green skin, and cold eyes, while her face is unreadable now, she had stopped with that echoey alluring accent, her real voice sounded familiar….
“Wait a minute, Science Slut?”
Ivy hisses, green eyes slitting like a snake.
“That was you!” Harley confirms.
“ACE Chemicals years ago. Yeah, that was me.” she admits through gritted teeth.
“Is that like ya secret identity or something?”
“No. I-” Ivy stops short, Why should I explain to her she didn't get her powers till after that? She doesn't need to know that . “That's why I edged you. I wanted to mess you up. like you messed me up.”
“I'm really sorry Ivy I only did that kinda stuff cos I wanted to impress you know who.
I didn't want to hurt people like that.” She apologises profusely.
“I just thought he might respect me more and treat me like an equal. I thought If I was just crueller and kept pushing one day…” She sighs, “but I got standards whereas he didn't. I can't be like him, and I don't wanna.” That day she had found she hadn't the stomach for hurting innocents. “I feel worse about making you kiss me than I do about all tha murder.”
“I'm-I'm sorry you had to go through all that abuse.” Ivy consoles softly. Filling the silence, she felt weak again, exposed to Harley who had suffered more than her. Besting her own trauma. Ivy didn't feel so self-righteous anymore. Feeling like she's had it cushy compared to a domestic abuse victim. Angry her own misery doesn't compare. Jealous of her pain. Feeling the fool even though she wasn't the one who dressed in motley.
“That’s truly horrible.” Forgetting herself for a moment. What Harley had gone through and made her own mortifying traumatic experience with her pale in comparison. In fact, she could kinda see why she had done something like that if she was powerless in her own life. Like Harley's orgasm, her hatred slips away; she wants to hold onto it, but she can't. “I'm sorry I hurt you tonight” The words choke her like pushing through thorns, but she gets them out while looking at the floor. I had you all wrong doesn't make it out though.
“Ta be honest, ya reaction was kinda outta proportion. I should not have kissed ya but all this-!” she gestures at the vines.
“Yeah- I uh-” Ivy stammers feeling righteously called out. Even worse, feeling like awkward Pam, she deflects fiddling with her hair because she can't excuse her actions. “Harley be honest, was he really not going -yknow?
“Well-” Joker never had an interest in whether she got off or not. It wasn’t that he was bad or had gotten worse, he never even asked. He hadn’t cared about her at all, treating her worse than a pet. Harley tries and fails to think of a good excuse before she tells her the answer.
“No! Harls!” Ivy responds stunned. She couldn’t live like that even before she got this superhuman libido. Who could? What a horrible relationship for a girl who wasn’t out of her mid-twenties. The best years of Harley’s life squandered on a cruel selfish psycho! She shudders and is glad she had never actually crossed paths with the Joker. Harley didn't sound like a supervillain anymore; she sounded like a victim.
Ivy’s old activist and feminist values flare up, she doesn’t like to see women in these kinds of situations. She knows woman deserve sexual pleasure as much if not more than men. Didn’t Pam attend some kind of rally about this once?
She hasn’t aimed to do much for feminism on purpose since gaining her powers hating human woman as much as men now. And far too busy protecting the environment. She displaces all this newfound anger onto the Joker. Her uncertainty manifests she stares at the wall only interrupted by-
“Then why dontcha make me come next time? Suggests Harley practically bouncing against the vines. Wanting to make up for all her lost time. Still naked and hornier than ever. Giving Ivy one more chance. Still hoping to cum tonight.
“The fuck?” Ivy yells, affronted Why does Harley keep making these dumb assumptions?
“There's not going to be a next time, Harley! Why would there be?” She rants. “I don't ever want to see you again! I hate you! You're just some dumb ex doctor who got in the dressing up box. You make me sick! You want to go again after all that?” she blusters madly, frowning and shaking her head.
“It beats being left here on the brink ! I’m desperate I’d do it myself but…” she wiggles against the vines.” I don't think I follow ya logic ya wanted ta have sex but not enjoy it and then never do it with me again?” Methinks the lady doth protest too much, muses Harley.
“That's right! Stay away from me. I am literally fucking Poison! Love is a weakness, look where it got you!” she points.
“Who said anything about love? Harley queries curiously “I don't think you're a villain Ivy, of all the revenges you coulda done this is what you chose! Ya don’t seem so bad now, ya listened to me when nobody else takes me seriously. Ya actually saw me as a threat! I’m lonely. I don't even have a crew anymore. I been going it alone, proving the Joker wrong. He always said I'd be nothing without him. But ya know, I jumped into that vat by myself he didn't push me!” She gushes oversharing.
On the one hand Ivy is glad Harley can see she is no villain. Nobody ever understands that. On the other she is offended.
“After the way I tricked you and denied you? Why the fuck would you forgive me? Don't you have any self-respect?” rattling off as many excuses as she can. Overcompensating. Suddenly understanding how the woman stayed in an abusive relationship for far too long. Is this how she survived him? Either way Harley needs serious help.
“Sure, why not?
I've forgiven a lot worse and ya know I've made plenty of mistakes myself. But I don't hate myself for them. I learnt to move on. We should be Even Stevens now anyway. You apologised and that's more than I can say for some people. She rolls her eyes.
I don't want any beef with you Ivy, us gals gotta stick together. Unless you want men like Penguin to rule Gotham?
Ivy doesn’t know what to think. Hating how Harley is confusing her; she doesn’t feel half as good now, the thrill of revenge melting away leaving her hollow.
Harley getting in her head. Like taking candy from a baby her revenge had been easy but needlessly cruel. Harley now a different kind of unfinished business. Her naked body still infuriatingly attractive. What would be the harm in one more fuck? Intrusively pops into her head. Ivy gawps at Harley.
“You’re not so bad Ivy I kinda agree with what ya do for the environment
Killing all those fat old men. Though I'm not quite as committed to nature as you, I get it.” Harley goes on, this is no ploy. All she sees is a poor confused woman like one of her patient's pre-Joker.
“Don't act like you get me! You don't know a thing about me! My real name’s not even Ivy!” she reveals. Throwing her hands up in anger. Wanting to slap some sense into Harley and still tempted to climb back into bed with her.
“Well, what is it?” raising her eyebrows, she loves secrets.
“Ugh! No way I'm telling you that. "Ivy sighs furrowing her brow, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingers in frustration like she used to do. A vestige of when Pam still wore glasses, she is so damn wilful! Conflicted she sees a seed of potential here for something she is lacking, something less than what she had forbidden herself.
Though before she leaves, she writes two notes, one for Penguin warning him not to fuck with nature or she’d be back.
“You're way too Crazy Harley.”
“Let me loose, I'll show ya how crazy I am!”
A threat or an offer? Harley is so forgiving it sickens her. I don't deserve that , this is all so weird like some mind fuck head game . But yet the sweet taste of Harley still lingers in her mouth like chocolate. Ivy has a need to undo those coloured swirls of hair, to fondle those breasts, to kiss those lips, to discover all the myriad possibilities a gymnast could- She’s just one woman in billions!
“No way Harley I'm leaving!" Ivy almost yells through gritted teeth. Leaving the bearer bonds folder behind out of pity for poor Harley thinking she needs them more than I do. Sickened by her own sudden display of pity she wants out of there immediately, slamming the door shut as she escapes. Hating how much Harley makes her feel. Gone before the blonde can convince her to stay.
Harley abandoned, dazed, and confused on the tight verge of a much-needed orgasm. Her lips and ego are badly bruised.
dizzy with lust and wanting a lot more. The vines relax as soon as Ivy is gone.
Once dressed Harley looks all over for her but no trace of Ivy was left in the mansion, having already vanished like a strange dream. When Harley spots the bonds, she almost forgets herself wishing she could thank Ivy. Clutching her prize to her chest.
Later that night Harley returns to her own lair, a penthouse in a derelict apartment block. It came with good views and expensive decorations which are now covered in spray paint, trinkets, clippings, and Harley’s messy clutter. Guns lie in newspaper stands, ornamental bowls and vases. A home weight set in place of a shoe rack. A rope flung through the chandelier for practising rappelling and gymnastics.
Harley collapses on a stained old couch feeling zonked out. Knowing her top priority she immediately begins masturbating. In a daze finishing what Ivy had started though with far less interest. Even after blitzing herself with her Sionis industries vibrator, she fails to wipe away thoughts of her surprise encounter. Not sated at all since she’d had a mere taste of Ivy. After she recovers, she does her chores. First emptying Bud and Lou’s cages before replenishing their water.
She tussles with her beloved pets for a while, rescuing them from the zoo had been the first thing she did after getting back to Gotham.
Then she wipes the worst of the bloody gunk of her bat.
Next, making some snacks to eat, a Fried Egg sandwich and fruit salad for her, simply ordering KFC for Bud and Lou.
While eating she rifles through the bonds folder with greasy fingers only then finding the other gift from Ivy.
Eleven digits hastily scrawled and below that written “Only call this number if you really want a next time.” Harley thinks on the potential of that note for a long time.
Notes:
So I kind of lost control on this one. if you're still here. I hope I didn't put you off? This was the last time Ivy tries to hurt Harley though she has a long road ahead of her if she ever wants to let love and Harley into her heart. I swear future chapters will be balanced more and not be so long
please leave a comment if you enjoyed it or want to see more! as I have to start the next chapter from scratch. so comments really help motivate me!
do we think Harley should get revenge later?
Chapter 5: Serious women in a serious city.
Summary:
Ivy gets the call she's been waiting for. Or does she?
Events taking her out into the city.
There will certainly be some action as she enters Harley's world and has a much needed conversation.
Notes:
Kept you waiting huh? Sorry it has been so long!
I am back now and the next chapter will be coming out a lot faster than this one! The plan is even more refined now! And I reckon in the long gap I only improved my writing skills. Also I have still been far more regular than updates about the TSS game this is inspired by! Haha my Amara fic is stIll going too I’m not stuck there either, just wanted to get this out in time for the TGA. Thank you all for being so patient with me. I think it is better this way as I have passion for it right now. I know how it ends so I will finish this story!
I spruced up the last chapters if you need a recap!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Victorious Ivy broods alone on her throne, queen of all she can see. Her lair is an exploding green tangle around a vast iron skeleton, her namesake coiling round the frame of the art deco arboretum. To Ivy, the windblown wreck is warm glowing with the heat of all the life that surrounds her. Air is thick with golden blossoms of pollen. In the summer she shares it with bees and fireflies. It’s safe here. Peaceful. Her sanctuary. So that means no skirts, no trousers, no bra, wearing her red shirt loose, bunched up the elbows, dressing as she pleases amongst her thralls. Dull eyed men even more brainless than usual reduced to chemical induced infatuation. Unethical but useful and they were never model citizens beforehand.
At home here, wearing only her barely buttoned Arkham shirt, it's an all-purpose garment making for a great lab coat. Very useful since Ivy divides the days between plotting her next campaign and studying Pamela’s lifelong passion. Botany. In tune with the very feelings of the naturally shed samples she studies, she's transcended anything men or stuffy professors could teach her, existing now on a higher plane. Cultivating anything she wants here and gardens for fun in her spare time. From organic vegetables and rare endangered specimens and homebrewed poisons fill an icebox ready for deployment later.
Heavy male breathing aside her thralls are silent aside from occasional sad blurted promises of devotion or love. Or the odd grunt. The only people Ivy can really tolerate. she puts her feet up and leans back in her throne. Schedule today the same as every other day. Sometimes she talks to herself but only to help her think. I am not lonely!
Daydreaming over she yawns and stretches. Baggy sleeves rolling down. Putting off another venture out for supplies, compost for plants. Or stealing dog food for the thralls. Never quite comfortable on her wicker throne she fidgets before reclining in it, almost falling into a hazy sleep when her burner phone buzzes, aside from cold callers, this is her first message in ages. Leaping up from her woven leafy throne, surprising herself with eagerness to check her phone. Her thralls stare mindlessly as she reads Free tonight Ivy? Come to this address tonight and I'll bring the toys xxx. It can only be from Harley!
Ivy accepts without thinking, not even replying in her haste. Unsure of what to say and certain there's too much to send via text. Bare feet stamping out across the compost she's spread across the entire floor. Well this is a nice surprise! Getting ready, she shoves a bra on, having only saved some of Pam’s and certainly nothing particularly sensual. She tames her frizzy red hair in its usual bun, but not wanting to look like this matters to her, she just keeps her usual shirt on, and chooses a dark green leather jacket that matches Harley’s unique style to wear on top. One of the few possessions of Pam’s that Ivy had grabbed from her apartment in a feral, confused haze, while tripping worse than ever after waking up reborn in the garbage dump overwhelmed by a fresh sense of man's cruelty to nature. She leaves her jacket open over her half-buttoned shirt flashing a slice of jade midriff which she knows Harley will appreciate. She slips into some old steel toe capped black boots left over from her punk phase expecting Harley will respect those too.
Venturing out of the comfort of the abandoned botanical gardens, all the endangered orchids she's seeded ensure no developer can ever touch this place again. Secreted here she can forget she's deep in Gotham’s old town. The high brick walls and overgrown shrubbery muffles the traffic and soaks up its poison. Her private oasis among the monotony of the dry concrete desert. Here she can forget the world and its ever-growing problems. Sadly, now she has to return to the reality of the messy filth of the labyrinthian city. The things I do for sex.
Normally she lingers at the fence, but tonight animal urges call to her in siren song. She looks back once. Easy for her to scale the perimeter with her vines. No one else would dare intrude on the overgrown derelict place. Ivy managed to rescue the rare specimens left behind and now the place blooms better than ever! Branches push through the fences dropping leaves onto the pavement and obscuring any view inside. A square jungle cut out of the heart of Gotham's ersatz one. Her claim on Gotham staked out like an allotment. If the wrought iron fencing and the thorny camouflage doesn't stop any intruders, then her thralls will fight for her, or she'll recruit a new one. Leaving her eternal summer and stepping into the dying winter. Boots squelching on brown icy slush.
Almost immediately gagging on the smog of the road. Refusing to drive some poison spewing car, upside being she leaves no trace in the system on foot. Stalking the busier streets with her face buried in her jacket to avoid the ever-present CCTV even if most lenses were graffitied in spray paint. Black ice on the roads turns to stomped brown slush on the sidewalks. She holds her head high, leaving the town centre, to downtown. Strutting along passing seedy nightclubs, bars, and fast-food joints all smeared in burning neon signs. Mulling over what to say to Harley.
Hookers in punky jackets stop smoking or texting to squint at her till they get a glimpse of her cold infamous face and scurry back into the shadows afraid. They need not fear me, but damn I love that look! Drug dealers pause their work to gawp. Over eager muggers approach her then walk right past as they see her face. Even the most opportunistic rookie is not that stupid. Hands in her pockets she strides on by like royalty. Leaving whispers in her wake.
Soon the gormless night life fades along with the stinking traffic fumes and noise as Ivy arrives in the most notorious neighbourhood in Gotham. It's eerily quiet, a street like this should be full of hard drug dealers and harder hookers plying their wares. What Ivy guesses must be Harley's lair or safehouse is a derelict warehouse on the river between other squats. Bound in barbed wire fencing warding off intruders, a place Pam would never have dared walk, but Ivy fears no man. The vicious barking guard dogs and gangs that normally patrol these derelicts are noticeably absent. Yet whole armies of meat headed thugs (or worse the pigs!) could be lurking in the shadows of a dozen of the neighbouring grim industrial estates. No GCPD Patrol car would risk driving down these pitted roads without a good reason. Under the one working (yet still defaced) streetlamp pacing up and down unfazed is Harley. Hugging her arms to her chest against the cold of the city night, red gym bag at her feet on the curb. Looking totally out of place, completely untouched by the dull grime and urban decay all around her.
That same outfit too. The kaleidoscope of colours making her head swirl. Somehow more stylish than Pam had ever looked. The dorky office drone could never have pulled off that look. Defying the cold elements in tight sporty pants that hug her figure. Shiny leather jacket in bold playing card red tagged with a great white skull hangs casually off her. Navel exposed despite the cold, white tee stopping short, the custom Cami makes it damn clear who she is proclaiming Harleen the Queen! Ivy wonders did she make that herself or get it custom? There's lots of merch available for Superheroes and villains whether they want it or not. None for Ivy thank fuck ! On anyone else this ensemble would be tacky peacocking.
“Hey Ives!” Harley hugs her! Making her flinch for a few seconds in the shockingly tight embrace until she limply touches the blonde's jacket neither shoving away nor hugging back. Patting her like a consoler “Ya look smokin!” At last Ivy escapes the surprise bearhug and stares back blankly. Straightening herself out annoyed at how easily Harley ensnared her. A careless yet unintentional insult. “Never seen the Mask?” Harley blinks all coy. “Ah well.” she sighs before Ivy can answer that, she didn't watch much TV even when she was human.
“So, this is your lair?” Ivy looks at the huge imposing warehouse, flat roofed with sheer mouldering walls and dark smokestacks perching atop it. Not what she expected from Harley, she'd imagined something cooler. The former sidekick looks even better than her recent memories.
“This dump? No way it's the Ventriloquists. I kinda wanna get your help on a little smash and grab.”
“What the fuck Harls I thought-” Ivy gapes, eyebrows raising. “Sorry, Ives we can finish our booty call later but I wanna get my rank back up, Joker and I used ta be Gotham’s number one most wanted but now I'm single and free from Waller’s squad I wanna get back on top. You can take cred too!” Quinn assures.
“I don't care about where I rank on some dumb FBI most wanted list!” Ivy yells objecting. “Aww but ya already did me a solid! After we turned the Penguin in ta a cuckold, who fears him now? I only gotta kill the Ventriloquist and the Scarecrow and then I'll be the most active criminal in Gotham!” besides Selina but she comes and goes .” Then I'm in the big leagues and the Legion of Doom can sit and spin!” Or come crawling ta me for aid and assistance, either is good.
“You're forgetting all the other supervillains, "Ivy reminds, folding her arms, impatiently tapping her fingers. Even the recluse knows all the names and can't help but hear them no matter how disinterested.
“‘Course I mean non superpowered, you know ya only outrank me cos you're a Metahuman.” She punches her on the arm playfully. “Plus, ya don't totally rob the CEOs you kill…”
“Yeah, petty thefts not really my thing…” Ivy dismisses, trying to back away. Looking around the void of the lot for any excuse to leave. She survives on even less these days, and she can always ask a thrall to empty their bank account.
“Aww, Ives, I wouldn't have bothered ya with this, but Killer Frost gave me the cold shoulder. Boomerang bounced and Selina…” Selina is being her usual self. Harley whines running her fingers through the long part of her blonde hair. “Look!” She points out ''There's even a tree for your powers! I just know you'd be so good at this! Five mins in and out, pleasseee!” She begs.
“I'm not a supervillain Harley. I don't just rob people at random,” she sighs out in explanation. The plans for this evening are vanishing.
“Yeah, but ya kill corrupt bad guys and, well, he's a crook too! You care about underwater plants too, right? Or do ya leave that to Aquaman?”
“I do care!” She grudgingly admits “But fuck that damp douche-bro!” He cares more about Atlantis than he does about the coral reefs.
“Well, I do know the Ventriloquist’s boys are cooking opium ‘n’ coke in there too and dumping the waste inta the river. Dontcha wanna put a stop to that?”
Fuck why didn't she just say that in the first place? Ivy fumes. Trapped, she has one last ditch excuse to throw in the clown’s face. “Wait a minute, why the hell do you even want my help? After the last time where I tied you up and.” she trails off in shame shifting and scratching her neck.
“Aww forget about that! Ya looking at Arkham’s electroshock therapy champion, 3 years running!” She points a thumb at her chest then mimes sitting in a shock chair gripping the imaginary handles and shaking. “We’re even stevens now!” Believing it since it whitewashed the deeds she did when she was his.
“Godammit, fine! He'd better be easy to kill,” Ivy relents, folding her arms and scowls.
Harley beams brushing the villain off with a wave. “Relax he's got no powers he's just another loser mobster how hard can it be?”
“So why do they call him that?” Ivy resigned to her fate. Tucking her shirt in and rolling up her sleeves, ready. Feeling ambushed. The swell of mercy inside only reminds her how dangerous being in Harley's proximity is.
“Dunno, let's find out!” Just like that Harley scampers over a section of the chain link fence while Ivy climbs over steadily. On the other side Harley offers a hand down that she refuses pridefully. Ivy drops down frowning in the old car park. “I prefer to actually scout places out before I just blunder in Harls!”
“Oh, all professional like, that's cool! Let's try that we could be like spies! Oh, we could have code names too! Then I'll miss Pink and you be miss Red!”
“Ugh! I didn’t give you my number for this!” Ivy insists. Doing up her shirt feeling foolish, enjoying how Harley's face falls as the redhead’s bare midriff gets covered as she zips up her jacket too. Pam is glad of the chlorophyll in her skin preventing her from ever blushing again. Feeling like a hooker in tight pants, leather jacket and boots. She plucks at her stuffy pants. Not fit for battle or stealth. How is it that the craziest woman in Gotham is also the hottest one by far? No one else could get me doing this shit.
“Ya don't wanna play spies? What did ya give it to me for then anyway?” Harley challenges, going to march on. Ivy won't say that, so she puts out a hand in front of Harley “Whoa! if we're going to do this at least slow down for a second and lemme know the plan! What do you have in that bag?”
“Toys! Like I said! Take your pick, Ives!” Holding it out like Santa's sack. Ivy gawps at the brightly coloured arsenal. Chainsaws the one weapon Ivy hates more than guns, sickening, brutal things that butcher trees in their millions. A baseball bat, fireworks, dual submachine guns, a pair of light pistols.
“I call dibs on the bat!” Harley says, grabbing the handle then dipping back in to grab the pistols. “Is that barbed wire wrapped round it?”
“Yeah, just like Negan in the Walking Dead! Which one are ya gonna go for?” Harley then changes her mind and swaps the pistols for the machine guns. Loud rapid fire and lots of bullets my kinda style!
“Ugh… I don't do guns” sighs Ivy with an eyeroll meaning I don't know how to use one. “You should take a knife then, Ives.” she gestures with one “they're real easy to use ya basically can't screw it up just don't aim for bones” she says sagely while waving one showing her how to gut and stab with flash and flourish by gouging invisible enemies. “And what does the Ventriloquist actually have worth stealing again?
“Oh, I know this one, Diamonds! and a drug racket but I won't steal that! He's breaking into smuggling blood diamonds and if I snag a few of them and take him down in the process I'll be so famous!” she beams.
“Take him down meaning…” Rolling her hand, trying to encourage some kind of strategy out of the blonde. “I hear he's an old man, so beat him up and leave him for the cops! Gotta make em feel special too sometimes or they'll be emasculated.” she giggles.
Ivy sighs pointing up the towering facade rolling her eyes. "Safe to assume he's all the way up top.” Exclaiming “Men like that never stay on the ground floor!”
“Yeah, it's a male power thing” the former psychiatrist adds stuffing the fireworks inside her jacket pockets. Flashing her jacket lining wide revealing inner pockets stuffed with knives and spray paint. Ivy chooses a gold knuckle duster for herself.
Harley gives her a once over. “I can’t let cha go without a knife too!”
“Fine but who the fucks actually been buying Opium in the last 200 years?”
“I know right?” shrugging, Harley hadn’t meant to deceive her. Expecting Ivy had put her grudge behind her especially so she could forget about being humiliated. This arrangement was Ivy's idea! I gotta leave her my number so she can call me. No excuses.
Just in the front of the doors is a hired guard dressed in a pinstripe suit. Holding a revolver as subtly as possible. Ivy marches towards him wanting this over as quick as possible Harley skips silently along in the shadows behind her. Taking the lead yet feeling Harley's eyes on her. Assuming the blonde's expectation is that she will get close and use her pheromonal kiss. Normally it's fun to deceive men but she refuses when in front of Harley. Suddenly sensing the almost intimate bond between her and her victims. Like a vampire's seduction. She won't let her see bared like that. Won't allow Harley to see her flirting. Some dull twinge of fear says she won't measure up.
She exhausts her patience for her natural wiles as she walks sensually up to the guard leaving him bemused at her red-haired stranger in the leather jacket, ready to be solicited till she grabs his wrists and slams his pistol in his face as soon as she's in range. He cries out as Ivy snarls and slams punch after wild punch into him. Hearing only the man's spluttering grunts, her green fists slamming into his flesh. He headbutts her, clipping her nose. In her scorn Ivy ignores the stinging cut. Well now they're gonna come running. Harley thinks. Someone’s grumpy. Dropping her gym bag. The doors fling open, and Harley empties her guns into two more goons Ivy hasn't noticed. Dual sub machine guns rip both them and the wall behind them apart. In a flurry of sparks dust and blood. Pockmarked corpses are flung backwards thumping onto the filthy old carpet. Ivy rolls her eyes irritated by Harley's unnecessary intervention and the loud gunfire. Snapping “Great. Now they know we're here.”
“And? We can take them, ya not afraid are ya?” Harley says reloading.
“No. I just don't need your help, Quinn. I wasn't going to kiss him for you” she grunts.
“I would never have asked ya to do that. Can’t exploit ya.” Asking her to fight was one thing but asking her to seduce and use her body was off limits. Harley won't treat Ivy how he treated her. What's with her? Not like I took someone straight with me. She’s done this shit before. Perhaps she likes to lead?
Both standing in a mouldering reception stinking of damp and mildew. A pair of double doors lead deeper into the derelict building. Pam is still dumbstruck at how Quinn roped her into this. Ivy shakes her head in exasperation at the building looming above her. She never backs down from a challenge the more she's told she can't the more spite builds up and is channelled into her attacking the task in a frenzy. Already thinking of the work head regretting leaving Harley her number. Why did I do that? What was I thinking?
They emerge from the corridor into the main hall, a huge brick pit like the bottom of a grave Ivy notes. Perhaps if they'd been quiet, they could have slunk unseen to the iron staircase on the other side. Instead, every eye is already on the noisy duo and at the very top floor shrouded in shadow they can witness a man's silhouette.
“Who's down there? If it's Flatfoots, then you'd better scram!” Calls what must be the Ventriloquist, a harsh echoing voice. To Harley he sounds like one of those old gangster movies the Joker used to watch. Joker always had a dozen TVs blaring the news, documentaries, comedy routines, classic cinema, torture porn, he said it inspired him.
“It's Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, Huntress, and Black Canary asshole! Now come down here so we can cut you up some more!” She tries bluffing.
Ivy looks over quizzically. Harley shrugs back “What? It was worth a shot!” she whispers. Rolling up her sleeves.
“Get dose broads boys!” He's too high up to shoot but Harley tries anyway! Bullets ping and spark wide off lower girders. Nor will Ivy's plants be breaking through several floors of concrete at least not without time and serious focus.
The main hall is huge, with mezzanine floors all the way up secured with riveted iron girders too tall for even the ex-gymnast to scamper up. Ivy could try to ride a vine up but then she would be shot to pieces in crossfire on three sides. Their only choice is to go round floor by floor and move quickly up the stairs. Harley runs up the stairs first leading the charge right into a room swarming with mobsters. “It's on!”
Unused to open combat Ivy lags behind as Harley sprays the room with both barrels, Sweeping them from side to side. Brick pillars spray dust and fragments mobsters run for cover. Harley advances winging several. Making them wince and gasp. Suppressing the whole room on bravado alone. As she reloads, she drags Ivy down into cover by her hem. “So, what ya been up to?” Harley quizzes.
“What?” Ivy can't believe her blasé questions! “Since we last hooked up.”
“Uh- just work. Been very busy.” No more raids have been accomplished, just preparation for the next campaign.
They hide behind a huge metal crate. Bullets pinging. Men groaning from wounds. Harley blinds fires a burst, killing one who got cocky and made an ill-fated advance. The women hug their knees to their chest while scanning the dusty floor in front of them. The mobsters are more cautious, now expecting some trick or gag like a flashbang. “Ya taller, ya reckon ya can hit that generator with this when I say so?” The blonde gestures to a bucket of some kind of foul industrial chemical. Ivy nods.
“One two three go!” Ivy douses the box; smoke boils out as the lights spark off. Harley springs smoothly up from her knees like a jack in the box. Putting down the surging goons in a game of whack a mole. Room lit only by the sparks from her gun Harley sidesteps swiftly presenting a moving target half covered by the cabinet. Ivy peeks over the top. Being able to see in the dark she is the spotter to her sniper. Seeing one bruiser crouch low and pad along the edges Ivy instinctively yells “Harley 9 o clock!” and points as the ex-clown instantly trusting swivels and nails the guy to the wall with an echoing rattle.
“Thanks, Red, knew I could count on ya but didn't know ya could see in the dark?”
Yeah, in the ultraviolet spectrum.” she mumbles. Ivy vaults the counter as more subpar villains' thud down the stairs. Thinking quickly, she tosses the dead men's guns. Ammo won't match Harley’s and I can’t use them. Better gone then theirs. They clatter to the atrium below. Ivy has no intention of looking inexperienced. Pam had only done a few basic self-defence classes in college. Ugh thank God Harley wasn't attending at the same time.
Only one goon left, and Harley is too busy reloading so Ivy acts! Rushing in and punching, breaking their nose in one. He reels dropping his tire iron clutching a bloody nose moaning in pain. Fuck, what a rush! Ivy is left eager to get more. Thirsty for more combat, a slave to raging adrenaline. She kicks him the balls and grabs him by the hair to bounce his forehead off the corner of a desk. Three times to be safe. Chasing her up the next set of steps into another boxy room. She gets up just in time to trip a stumbling henchman that Harley sent flying. Ivy grabs his hair and bashes his head on the wall until the bricks are damp before discarding him, letting his body roll down the stairs. Harley lobs a lit firework.“Say cheese- Oh shit! Red don't look!” She calls as it sets off a rainbow supernova in the middle of the room. Thugs blinded covering their eyes screaming.
“You bitch!” one calls firing into the wall. Ivy chokes on the thick smoke; supernatural powers making her extra sensitive to it. Covering her eyes not her ears so her head rings with the whizzing racket as the explosion bounces off the bricks all while Harley takes on the whole room by herself. Swinging her bat round in wild circles howling like a berserker. Everywhere at once. Chopping knees. Kicking jaws. Cracking wrists. Pinballing off mobsters still dazed from her improvised flashbang. Ivy picks her target as fast as she can, itching to do something, to contribute! There's no time for planning; she grabs a coil of electrical wire and loops it creating her own vine. At ease now, well-practised at this!
The mooks are all trying to close in on Harley till Ivy snaps the loop around one’s wrist making him drop his knife, yanking him off his feet. Sending his nose flying straight into her fist. Fuck! There's something so satisfying and visceral about this! Actually, dealing the blows herself. Not staying detached and doing it by vine or by toxin. It gets her green blood pumping! The man goes down, to make him stay down; she cracks a metal centrifuge on his skull. Taking risks, gambling her life like this! What a rush! “Next time Quinn! Earplugs!” yells Ivy, instantly fuming with herself for implying there would be a next time. Ivy whips a thug till he drops his cosh feeling better than Wonder Woman!
“Good call, Red!”
Ivy blocks an angry blow with her forearm making the thug snatch his wrist back, her thin limbs are as hard as bamboo! Seizing that chance to loop her cord around his neck, crosses the loop and kicks him, giving Harley an opening to really swing! Inverting his nose! She drops the thug. Catching a sneaky kick with her knee, As the unlucky thug winces from recoil she slips round him, elbowing his gut, looping the cord around his neck, pulling him onto her back like Atlas!
Another goon falls cracking his skull off a table as he goes down then Ivy hears Harley cry out “Aww no!” The redhead whips round from where she's coiling and bunching the wire up to strangle the man more effectively, expecting to see her captured or wounded instead she's holding the splintered remnants of her treasured bat! It's finally cracked! Barely hanging together in its barbed wire, Quinn moves on quickly, grief and splinters tossed aside. Improvising she leaps up, putting her legs round a grinning gangster. Trapped between scissoring thighs. He stops grinning, struggles, surprised by unexpected Olympian strength and the unpredictable manoeuvre. She uses that to bite his ear off in a spray of blood. He screams and reels back; she butts him in the head and pushes off his body. Launching back into the fray.
Hmm ok maybe you can survive being as wild as Harley Ivy thinks, still strangling this last crook who's still putting up a fight, feet kicking, hands grasping even as his face turns red. She’s annoyed that he won't go down but considers she is contributing, keeping him busy at least.
The last goon is a huge broad brute brandishing a construction sledgehammer. RHINO is tattooed across huge burly knuckles. Pinstripe suit straining at the seams. H e takes a bold swing at her, chipping the brick making Harley dance back. Rhino’s reckless but he has the muscle to back it up. “Ooh a hammer I’ll swap ya!” suggests Harley unafraid. The bigger they are the faster they fall. He merely grunts, no time for banter. One hand whipping out, upper cutting Harley before she can dance back! Clipping her chin. She bites her lip bloody. Wiping the blood off “Now you done it mista !” Internally his reach and reflexes shock her. She ducks his next swing, kicks his leg out from under him, following up with an elbow to the chin as he goes down then stamping on his bald head for good measure till it crunches. She snatches his hammer, holds it aloft like a trophy then brings it down hard with a wet crack. Venting blood over everything. “Ya all good, Red?” She asks, face spotted with red.
Ivy won’t ask for help afraid of seeming weedy to Quinn but mercifully at last the man goes under, his eyes roll white and face turning red. Ivy squeezes the cord one last time then stabs him in the chest. “Let's go!” Ivy insists as if Harley’s holding her up. Harley runs ahead, outpacing her and leaps at the first person she sees. Hammer slamming down, burying itself in his skull, cracking it like an eggshell. Almost sweeping her off her feet.
Swinging wildly, the men scurry. “Ain't this fun, Ives? Look at me go! I'm keeping this!” Ivy fights alongside her copying the form of her kicks and punches from earlier. Harley advances, keeping the goons back, corralling them into a wide circle. They are all armed, Ivy notes, with huge guns to compensate for their egos. Oversized, heavy shotguns and machine guns too big to aim while Harley is whipping the hammer at them. The drug pushers retreat to cover as the twosome reach a table. The reckless blonde is just lucky that's all. That could have gone wrong in too many ways. Ivy has taken more risks tonight than she has in years with her careful brand of super-eco-activism. The heavy metal desks nearby littered with white powder, lab spoons, syringes, and all too familiar plastic baggies.
“Fun?! This is serious shit, Harls! It’s not a fucking fairground! This is a life-or-death fight!” Ivy lunges at a flanking trafficker, sticking a syringe of chemicals into his throat, grabbing him by the neck, throwing him to the floor, violently thrashing. It irks Ivy to leave a foe alive, it's sloppy and careless, but still, she prefers not to use guns. This comes with accepting her hypocrisy, being a terrorist in many eyes, too. She even doesn't know either of her total body counts though she still remembers both her firsts. But using guns still sickens her. Too close to the military industrial complex. Mass produced machines and chemical propellants. Impersonal and crude compared to the raw power of nature.
“Well make it a game, you'll have more fun! Ya don't wanna be tense in a fight nor later tonight!” She suggests, hoping Ivys bad mood will diffuse and that sex is still on the table or against the table!
Ivy yells angrily above the din. "No wonder you're not Gotham's most wanted, an actual plan would have made this so much easier!”
“Where's the fun in that?” Quips Harley kicking over a table, creating a white dust cloud, before vaulting over it. Emptying the last of her ammo in a dual wielding dive that sprays wildly, missing every shot. Damn, that always works in the movies. Harley thinks as she ducks for cover behind a crate and snatches up a shotgun.
This is a chore! Endless macho assholes to kill! Ivy rolls her eyes and recommits pushing forward to back up her partner in crime. “See this is your problem, Harls!” Wrestling with a mobster’s submachine gun too busy to bring the vines through. “What? Bloodlust?” Says Harley, running on a table, pumping lead into all the heavies cowering in cover then swinging on a light fixture using the momentum to propel her forward into a two footed kick that sends a man sprawling backwards with a thump.
“No, winging shit like this! When it could get you killed! I don't have a death wish! I have plans!”
There she goes again. Being real hard work. Harley vaults over some makeshift cover, catching a clumsy fist. “What's your problem with me, Ives?” Harley headbutts the stunned goon, cracking his nose. Grabbing him by the balls squeezing till his screams change pitch. She manhandles him and shoves him into the rest of her attackers. Grabbing his piece and reloading it as the men collapse like bowling pins.
“Don't try to understand me Harley, you're just a psych major who fell for her first patient!” Ivy has one by the collar and rattles his skull with the harsh edge of her duster, punishing his temples. Her knuckles ache, already thick with hot scrapes. They’ve never done so much work!
“Only 'cos he was even better at getting in people's heads than me” she admits headbutting another stricken man before he can wriggle free then going again, shattering his nose with a meaty squelch. “I was young dumb and full of-”
“Don't say it.” Ivy interrupts. Dropping the now unconscious foe.
“I made the wrong choices, but they were my choices, Red! I’m standing by ‘em.” Harley cocks the shotgun as the mafiosos disentangle themselves before maliciously unloading it into them. having turned three men into tattered bloody heaps of gristle The gun clicks out of ammo. Quinn faces her last foe alone.
“Look I just don't do people, Ok? Attachments make you weak like this asshole.” Ivy snaps the asshole’s wrist forcing out a weak scream. Harley roundhouse kicks, sweeping another goon’s leg out from under him with well-practised style.
“I'm not gonna end up like that loser or this one” she says, shoving his bleary body over the ledge. “I just made a mistake is all” Watching him fall “Love can be fun too'' she says though she wouldn't know “just like crime, so lighten up Ives.” as the man hits the ground with a wet crack.
The next floor is occupied by lab workers. Ivy is blooded now, so these guys are just dead meat, barely distractions. No firearms, just tools.
You’re taking this too easy, it's gonna get you killed! No wonder you don't have a crew! You're too crazy to be a real criminal!” Aiming to hit Harley where she thinks it hurts, while also cracking the teeth of the closest assailant.
“I committed ta the joker, I committed to a life of crime.”
“You dropped out of the Olympics” so lucky to have that innate talent and she never made the most of it. “Duh! Try coming out as bisexual to conservative Jewish parents! See whether daddy wants to coach you then! I wouldn't even have gotten ta med school if I didn't already earn my place and scholarship!” She says beating a crook into bloody submission with renewed vigour. Remembering how hard she’d worked for their dream of an Olympian. Her own proudest moment was sharing graduation day with her college friends. She told her parents it was the next day, and they missed the whole thing.
Ivy reels, she had never thought about this. Where the fuck had Harley's parents been each time she got locked up or gaslit into dating the Joker? She pauses for a second. Before attacking the goons with animal fury, holding her own. Harley just giggles. “They thought gay was bad look at me now!” Laughing like her own hyenas covered in blood from head to toe. Gesturing to the mess.
For a second Ivy longs to reach out and share how distant her already shitty parents became after she came out but that's something she already regrets telling Bella. They probably still think I’m dead. All she manages is “I didn't know you were Jewish?” Harley didn't strike her as someone with spiritual depths even though Ivy has never believed in any of that shit either.
“Well, I'm not exactly practising” Harley shrugs, covered in blood deep in the heart of a mobster’s drug den. “Anyway at least I'm consistent in my crazy '' she says “Look at you Ives! Acting like little miss Greenpeace and all, yet ain't that a leather jacket ya wearing?! A real cute one I gotta say but how do ya square that? Do you have ethics or did ya just want an excuse to go apeshit?” She wiggles her eyebrows. Apeshits ok by me!
Ivy fumes biting her lips, she has me there. “ Well, I mean what else should I wear? Plucking at her jacket. “ Leaves? Go naked? Or ugh, green spandex? Anyway, you're having way too much fun killing these guys! Do you even care about looking for the diamonds?” automatically going on the defensive.
“Oh, I know I'm crazy. I have a motherfucking PHD. I can diagnose myself." comes the retort while she’s still stuck envisioning Ivy in green spandex.
But when are ya gonna accept that an activist's work is never done? You can't save the planet all by yourself.” We’ll get those diamonds, what matters most is, we best this Ventrilo-jerk first. “Just keeping crooked plutocrats pruned keeps ya busy.” giggling at the pun. "Admit it Red! Ya enjoy this cos ya gotta love whatever ya do! Ya good at this! Let your hair down! Have some fun cos I know ya won't stop doing your thing! You're a supervillain! Friggin own it!”
Quinn’s words hitting home. Ivy lashes out. “I don't need life advice from someone who’s broken every rule in and out of Arkham! Why don't you Diagnose yourself then! A woman who tossed away every opportunity. Craves attention and love from criminals and has no idea how lucky she is! Acting a child to hide her pain! With far more confidence than a failed athlete, doctor and crook should ever have! Ivy won't be one upped or let Quinn be right. Hating the idea that she might know her better than she knows herself.
“Ya done? Good.” That's the most Harleys ever heard her rant in one go. But insults bounce off her.
Ivy deflates, tirade useless. Harley has her beat. Even on the streets she was the Queen of Gotham but with Harley she feels Pam threaten to return. Somehow rendered human with her. The only place she had ever controlled her was in the sheets.
“Well, ya think what happened in Metropolis was a fluke? Ya think I can't handle myself?”
“I saw that! Only the headlines but. I didn't agree to be your babysitter!”
“Think of this as foreplay. I hoped this might get ya in the mood.”
I'm always in the mood. Sits on the tip of Ivy's tongue. She shuts up and focuses on the so-called wise guy in front of her. As the room is finally cleared Harley announces, “Well I think that was a pretty productive session, don't you?” Ivy sours how does this one woman get under her skin! How can she be so fucking cheerful?
They are ready to move on when another last wave of mobster's charges down the stairs. But the twosome stands their ground as these are the dregs of his forces. Poorly armed wannabees. Ivy grabs a builder's spade on impulse. Harley hammers, while Ivy batters. Already intimately familiar with the balance of the gardening tool. Surrounded, compelling them, back-to-back now hearing each other grunt and curse under their breaths. Gracefully twirling Harley notes Looks like she's found her groove ! as Ivy pushes ahead battling like Wonder Woman! Taking a moment to admire her legs and ass in those tight pants as Ivy exerts herself, whole chest heaving against her ribs. Operating as a team on a deeper instinctual level, backing each other up so they weren't flanked. Aware of each other's wild swings. Bodies doing the talking. Ivy is fighting for herself and for Harley too. Harley powers through any blow that comes her way Ivy’s relying on me, so we don't get swamped! Her cheek swallows a blow, she counters spitting blood, hammerhead splitting a jaw! A cunning baton sneaks past her guard and stings her thigh through her leather pants. Scoring a long streak on her.
Spade ringing craniums like church bells. Spun in Ivy's hands to batter foes with its harsh edges, the activists' teeth gritted, aiming to spill as much blood as possible. Shoulders burning, knuckles aching, she couldn't unclench if she wanted too. Legs wobbling, calves burning. Not daring to stop knowing exhaustion would catch up with her. No longer avoiding the messy chaos instead relishing how she holds back the stinking tide with a tool she's mastered ever since her father fired their gardener. Harley enjoys watching the normally aloof Ivy get down and dirty. She looks all tha better for it! Tendons bulging, emoting snarling showing her teeth! Harley’s never seen her so physical! Spots of blood vanishing into her fiery hair. Skin a vivid dark green when her bloods up.
Ivy notes Harleys form now, no more fancy showboating or trick moves, just pure effective combat. Noticing how Harley chooses which blows she takes. Leather jacket absorbing some impact for her, Quinn knowing all too well when a hit will bruise! Using a unique fighting style like nothing Ivy has ever seen! Mesmerising to watch. Ivy tears herself away shoving a man back with the length of her spade freeing up range for a hard kick to the knee.
Harley is a whirling dervish! The studded metal diamonds on her jacket’s elbows and knees, gouge stomachs and grind into faces. Stylish and useful! Quinn ducks a lazy grab and channels that into a headbutt. The man retches as Quinn leaps in under his jaw. Making him bite his tongue sending stumbles back. Spitting blood from a bitten tongue. Quinn quick steps back pulling a knife from her jacket. When his hands come up to guard his face , she stabs him. Toppling him backwards with a boot on his chest. She doesn't need powers, her whole body’s a weapon Ivy admires, Ready to drop from exhaustion. She is incredibly fit!
Soon the men lay dead or wishing to be dead, around them. Shaking and sobbing holding onto shattered hands or crooked legs. Some sprawl in beds of blood and teeth. “Damn ya the queen of spades Ivy!” Clapping, impressed, never seeing a shovel get used like that before.
The night out has been a baptism of fire for Ivy. Open combat isn't so bad I guess once you get used to it. Ivy revels in that new burst of confidence. Proud of toughing it out. Gripping her spade tight, its head now red as clay soil. Loosening up enough to return a compliment. “You fight well Harley. You’re fearless.”
She laughs “Those guys were nobodies! But thanks Ives! Course I'm in way better shape than any of them. Even ex Olympians can still kick any ass!” Gushing she continues oversharing. “I did a college self-defence course too. But I did a lotta extracurricular stuff at college if ya know what I mean.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“I was wondering how you survived Metropolis.” Ivy's curiosity overrides her sullenness. Harley giggles “Ha! Easier than ya think. Metahumans don't know what to do when it comes to finishing things. Those guys do hit hard though. But I can take it. Joker taught me how to-” she stops annoyed at how her ex keeps coming back up.
“How to what?”
“He taught me to fight on through the pain like he used to.” Training his own unique way. In a crude boxing ring. His TVs stacked all around it blasting stolen tapes, kung fu, boxing, even Jackie Chan movies! While one of his henchmen swung at her with a crowbar till, he or she dropped. Joker would watch from the side-lines. All he really taught her was a few tricks for rolling with punches and spitting that energy back out, escaping handcuffs, catching knives, and breaking out of chokeholds. She noticed always holding some lessons back. I was so stupid! but all that and he never fought me himself, so better that than a coward! She explains all that leaving Ivy looking aghast.
“Harley I’m s-thank fuck he’s dead!” She almost reaches out then goes for something less vulnerable. Twisted up inside. Ivy doesn't want her past to be less than a tragic backstory, but Harley’s makes it look like nothing. What the fuck? Why does that make me feel kinda envious! How does her trauma keep outweighing mine! No way she's had it worse!
A man groans in pain on the floor interrupting their moment. Harley stamps on his balls “Grownups are talking!”
The ventriloquist calls down to them as they enter the final room "How'd those broads even find dis place? If deres a rat, he better show his face now before I finds out and cuts it off! Go put those dames in their place boys!” The boxy growing floor is filled with poppies in foil lined trays under the buzz of fluorescent lights. Ivy’s inner scientist cannot help being sickened by their crude set up. One of her exes had a better weed room! “Ugh, this macho posturing asshole. I've got this. You go and shut him up!” She needs to do this on her own to prove she can handle herself. She'd rather die trying than call for Harley’s help. “Ya sure?” “Yes! I'll beat you anyway!” She boasts, drunk on the power of the arsenal before her. The room is stuffed with enough poppies for the vines to carry her upstairs afterwards.
Harley races off. “Give 'em, hell red!” Ivy is in her element and pissed that Harley will miss this. In her boldness taking on more than she would normally dare. Summoning as much green as she can. Rage unlocking more from her. Normally deft tendrils Wild motions and chaotic attacks branches whipping and lashing. The last lot have guns, but they make no difference now. Ivy's invisible amongst the green. As one all the plant pots explode lacing the room with serrated tripwires. Instantaneous infestation. Decades of overgrowth in seconds. Catching guns, ripping them from gloves. The men left hemmed in by green clouds smothering them. Cut off and screaming. Panicking with no way to shoot and no one to bully.
Safe here among the green. Ivy savours the arcane power she possesses over men. The expanse of the natural world is all the arsenal she needs. A power unseen by man. Now to teach these men to appreciate just how powerful. Willing the plants on harder, one with them. Slipping into her confident self, again, only then realising she hasn't used it all night! Quinn’s chaos makes her edgy, only seeing Ivy raw and unready at last she's in her comfort zone! Shame the clown is going to miss it!
Witchlike she stalks the perimeter. If Harley’s so cocky, let's see how she does without me! Irate at her uncertainty of what she’ll do if Harley actually cries out for help. Fuming that she couldn’t just leave her to die. Irrational attachment lingers like a weed inside her. We’re bonded by tonight's trauma, that's all.
Taking out her anger on the men, making them suffer. She's a wolf among the rows now. For once caring less about mere efficiency more about reminding herself of her power. Not dispassionately restoring the balance or a mere vessel for nature instead controlling all she can see. She wraps leaves around her arms and legs as crude armour, wincing as they tap her veins to feed on the chlorophyll flowing inside her. So not one plant dies in her crusade. Throwing on the Ivy persona easily looking monstrous yet feeling like a Goddess! Never one for spiritualist bullcrap but she feels like Gaia! Feeling a true warrior of the green! With lashing gauntlets, she strikes. The bushes become a razor wire gauntlet for the thugs. They scream and thrash hemmed in tendrils cutting them trapping them tight like cheese wire. The fight goes out of them. Long before Ivy finishes them off.
Meanwhile Harley scampers up the last dingy staircase to the top floor. Checking for traps before she emerges and heads to the old foreman's office where the ventriloquist resides. “Beat ya Ives!” She declares pumping her fists and rushing ahead. The floor is empty aside from the light shining out the foreman's office silhouetting the infamous gangster. Up here the place festers with rotting from the top down the roof infected with damp. Tangles of brambles and stinging nettles grow down from the corners. Harley crosses the grim space quickly. Swapping hammer for a pistol. Checking the shadows, head jerking, but there's no one left. She kicks open the door, barging into the foreman's office. “ Shows over, Ventriloquist! ” Head on a swivel all she spots in the gloom is an empty bed and a cot and a hat resting on a posed mannequin standing in front of the lamp. A decoy, Tricked!
“Turn around sweetheart!” snarls a voice as Harley feels a cold gun barrel jab at her back. But what stings is how cheap the ruse was. Oldest trick in tha book! He simply hid behind the door waiting for her to make an entrance. “I ain't nobody's sweetheart” she says indignantly as she spins and kicks in a perfect pirouette. Shifting her weight onto her back foot lifting her right as if to take a step. Turning slowly. Then drawing knee in spinning and unleashing the force of her whole-body weight, compressing it into a rigid shin bone straight into…
A solid block of wood. Stamping her foot, the pain is nothing. The shock takes her instead. The name Ventriloquist now makes sense! Scarface is merely a gnarled wooden dummy, a piggy glare etched into him. Dressed in a dark blue double-breasted suit and trilby, a scar gouges up a painted face worn with age. Permanent sneer, a tie and a tommy gun were his only other items. His black shoes were simply immaculately polished wood. The dummy was in the arms of a frail old man wearing Coke bottle glasses and a frayed sweater vest, who cowers behind Scarface lifting him up and in front. He has a cigar in his mouth which he seemed to share with the dummy.
“Please I don't want any trouble!” begs the man. Like he's the one being held hostage. Yet he walks forward the dummy aiming the gun at Harleys centre of mass. “Shut it dummy! These dames are going down! Dey messed wid da wrong kingpin!” That tommy gun gives Harley caution, a wild weapon especially at the end of a frail old man's hand, all that recoil could go anywhere! Holding her hostage, he pushes her back towards the ledge her eyes flick to where Ivy is.
“Drop 'em!” not stupid she drops her gun and hammer. “Now start talking or youse is gonna be a nice stain on the carpet. Who set you up to this?”
Ivy overhears the Ventriloquist threaten Harley. She crouches and peers carefully over the railing of the stairs. Needing a smarter plan than simply rushing him and getting caught like Harley did.
“Nobody.” Harley rolls her eyes. Why do men always keep thinking I'm working for someone else?
“Who blabbed den?” In truth no idea she simply heard from a contact of a contact. Someone in his employ musta had loose lips at a bar. Spotting Ivy watching, she schemes, moving slow. Buying time. Faithful she will leap to her rescue. “Keep me around and I'll tell ya,” Harley teases, edging along the beam. Her gymnastics training comes in handy, anyone else would have fallen.
“So, ya used to be tha Joker’s gal? Musta been rough, maybe you'd find working for me way smoother. So, you wanna sleep with da fishes or da new Joker?”
“Please, Mr Scarface! Don't say that!” The man whimpers and cowers holding the dummy aloft.
“Shudd it, dummy! Now, any last words Quinn?”
“Yeah, Ivy is gonna be along any second, dumbass! You better start begging!” She bluffs through a confident threat.
“That dumb broad will back off when I have you staring down the barrel.”
Will she ? Harley thinks. The dummy fires. “A gut shot “Keep dat trap shut!” Harley keels over, wincing hand to her stomach. Shuffling backwards. Winded. Fight knocked out of her. He sees the flash of fear on her face. “The rest of my boys are on dere way! See youse is gonna get more dan a black eye! You're gonna be all scarred up dollface. Now sing!” He jabs the barrel closer.
Ivy yells “Harley jump!” and she does, pushing off with style backwards flip. Falling backwards, a leap of faith better than getting unceremoniously shot. Gymnast skills keep her descent graceful till she crashes with a whumph straight in Ivy's mesh of vines! An outstretched net of leaves, tendrils and wood branches growing from the plant pots. Quinn bounces once in the springy giant catcher's mitt. Ivy retracts it, pulling Harley to safety. Then frantically leaps in, fretting over her stomach. Plucking at the bullet hole. peeling it open. No blood. Ivy checks the jacket and plucks the bullet out of the lining. Kevlar panels in the inlay. Nothing but a bruise forming on her belly. Fears and compassion vanishing! Quinns dodged death yet again!
“Holy shit! Nice save Red! We gotta do that again!” Harley gabs once she has her breath back and clambers out. Ivy freezes, unused to praise.” I knew ya cared!” “What?” Ivy whips around petrified. “Joker woulda let me drop.”
I wouldn't even think of doing that!” Ivy gapes and Quinn points “That's right you didn't think of it!” Ivy glares. "Come on, let's get this guy before he catches up!” reminds the blonde Who pivots “Yeah! Let's jump this antique asshole!” and sprints off silently. Left with only a few extra bruises, no worse for wear than falling out a tree. Taking the stairs two at a time.
He's peering over the edge as Ivy rises in another construct rising to his level in a harness of vines and branches. Startling him with lashing thorns safe in her wicker web. Overcompensating for her earlier weakness she forgoes defences just attacking. He backs up and fires wildly, severing branches that make her hiss and scream. Another burst bleeds a branch and clips a thigh, Accuracy is way off when firing through the dummy. The Construct wobbles, losing integrity, Ivy drops!
Harley’s eyes go wide upon seeing the woman fall! Sprinting over as he fires again, she shifts her weight back, steps forward and launches a high scissor kick, catching the dummy and lifting it off the OAPs hand! “Nooooo!” the men scream as one. Until Scarface crashes and skitters across the ground taking the tommy gun with him. Quinn ignores him, sprinting to the ledge and looking down, heart pummelling in her chest. Mind racing with brutal images of Ivy dashed on the floor, green blood spilling
Gurgling out. Stomach full of ice. Please, be ok please be ok, please be ok! “IVY?!”
Ivy looks up neither dead nor gushing blood. Just angry. Hand on her sore thigh. Hanging precariously below, Ivy feels the indignity of a caught parachutist. Sapping the last of her plant's strength to invigorate her withering branch construct just enough to escape certain death. “Yeah? I'll be fine Quinn just finish this.” Harley sighs, unable to keep a smile off her face till she turns and jogs back. Instant relief knowing that Ivy is ok. “Count ya self-lucky old man!” The man is crawling across the floor oddly reaching for the dummy, not the gun. Quinn snatches the weapon and aims at him.
“Oh, thank you” pleads the disarmed man who's instantly grovelling on his knees. “He made me do it all! I'm so sorry, please just let me go!” Unconvinced Harley drawls “Uh-huh” “I'm innocent. I swear it!” The old man clasps his hands together pleading to a confused Harley. Buying time or genuinely begging for mercy? “Meh, I'm not really buying it!” she shakes her head, already bored of his gimmick. Wanting vengeance but can't she exact that from a helpless old coot. Unsure what to do with him. Guess I could throw Gordy a bone? God knows he needs it.
Ivy steps onto the floor. Vine harness retracting. As though nothing happened. Scowl hardening. Anger reaching boiling point upon finally seeing the pathetic little creep who has been giving her the run around all evening. Fucking toy dummies now! No patience for this superhero crap. “Hey Red, this one's easy! Looks like a funny case of dissociative identity disorder! Your Id’s manifesting through the dummy,” Armchair diagnosing the old man. That dummy 'll make a cute trophy Harley thinks. Deciding to take it and tie him up for the pigs. “Leave him Ivy he's harmless-” Ivy seethes. This is the asshole getting in the way of her and … She won't be robbed of vengeance. One final thought slaps into place And I don’t do what Harley tells me to! Ivy's thorny vines whip out, lashing round his arms and legs knocking him off his feet. Clenching, suspending him in the air on his back like a fly in a spider's web. Till Ivy’s will pulls the frail old man apart like overcooked meat with a meaty splorch! Screaming till his lungs empty. Sucking for breath and losing blood, the toll is too much his eyes roll back and faints dead. Leaping back from the blood splatter Harley exclaims “Shit! Talk about overkill Ives geez!” wiping her precious jacket clean. “This is me Harley, this is what I do.” Almost praying these thorny words will drive her off. Her powers are primordial. The sublime supremacy of nature. How can she not be repulsed? Or impressed?
“That was hardcore Red! Just a lil unnecessary.” Rolling her sore shoulders. “I totally had him dead to rights. Woulda been funnier If ya controlled the dummy, he's wooden right?” Harley suggests rolling up the corpse's sleeve and trading her watch for his Rolex. “Nah. He’s- I mean it's-” chemically poisoned severed wood. “I can't.” Ivy mumbles. Embarrassed to admit she can't do anything to dead varnished wood. She has her limits, yet she wishes to keep them secret. Knowing she's blushing under her green complexion. Full emotions leaking out. Harley shouldn't see how angry I am.
Oh, ok cool! Harley spins on her heels, bored of the Ventriloquist already. Far too much like a clown for my liking. She grabs the dummy. “Cmon Red help me open this one. I don't wanna lockpick all night, it's sooo boring." She gestures to the old fashioned safe. Eager to do something so easy and useful. Ivy rips it open with vines. Tendrils slipping past the door jamb and coiling till it pops loose with a clang. “Ohhh jackpot!” Harley exclaims at the sight of the stuffed safe. “Here's yours!” She hands Ivy a sack full of diamonds marked in the name of some Dutch bank without her even asking. The activist has no need of loot, yet she pockets the gift anyway.
Harley scours the mob boss’s room. Scrambling over it for anything else worth having. It is done in the style of a 30’s bedroom combined with an old man's room. Pill bottles, a crib made up with satin sheets. A locked desk covered with papers. A typewriter resting on it. Clearly, he had liked to keep things old school. More tommy guns as well as greasy revolvers are stored on a shelf by the bed. Harley thinks it stinks worse than Arkham! old timey, old man smells. Harley guesses the cot was for the dummy, well it's better than sleeping with it. Then leaves her calling card, spray painting her initials on the wall i n bright pink. Better luck next time Gordo xxx "Can ya bring the place down Ives?" Harley suggests on the spur of the moment I wanna see her demolish something up close!
“Another time. Let's just get this done.” The plants here aren't strong enough. Finding an old trunk briefcase, Harley stuffs everything inside while still moving at speed. Until they hear the loud blare of a megaphone.
“This is Commissioner Gordon, come out with your hands up! Scarface or Penguin or whoever you are! We have the place surrounded.” Adding “Oh and Batman is here too, somewhere.” he mumbles. “For real this time. So, give up now and make this quick” Ivy can suddenly see the blue and red lights flare into life under the grimy windows. No bluff about being surrounded at least. Though apparently, they aren't expecting the twosome but instead a warehouse full of armed mobsters. “He's not bluffing Harls.” Ivy peeks peering all the way down. Gordon stands in his trench coat bald spot glistening in the moonlight. SWAT vans and APCs block the doors. More military shit sold on to the GCPD. SWAT thugs take up breaching positions while Gordon tips a little Irish into his coffee. “Yeah” Quinn shrugs “but we got five mins before he grows a pair and storms the place.” Ivy doesn't feel like dying tonight and the meagre tree outside is not enough for her to take down the entire GCPD. "tell me you know where the backdoor is? I would have scouted all the ways out, first thing.
Before Harley can answer a heavy snarling noise breaks the thick silence. “Hey, what's that noise?” Ponders Harley while Ivy recognizes it from her nightmares all too well. The sound that sent her to Arkham. Shit! All that gunfire must have drawn him.
She yells “Move it's the Batman!” Ivy knows just how fast he can, grapple up and be on them in seconds. For a second having seen Harley at work she thinks maybe the two of us could take him… but then her rational side kicks in. Immediately robbed of her newfound confidence in fisticuffs. Not crazy enough to challenge him. Cops are one thing…
Immediately trusting Harley runs slamming the case shut with the diamonds and dummy secure. I beat him once before but that was under brainwashing and if Ivy don't wanna…. Besides, it was a huge hassle anyway. Leaping up she yells “Stick ta the plan, Red!” “What plan?” Ivy rages yet still follows Harley who climbs up the iron spiral staircase. Ivy scurries after her as Harley smashes open the rooftop hatch and they scramble straight into an icy downpour. Ivy hopes Quinn is heading for a fire escape, anything but another brawl!
“We did him a favour. No more Ventriloquist! Bats should be thanking us!” Harley yells still running. Coat catching the wind behind her as those powerful legs propel her forward across the rooftop. Ivy hears the brakes of that overcompensating beast squeal to a stop below. “Cmon Red this way!” Quinn sails over a vent duct like a high jumper. The rooftop passes in a blur, Ivy chasing after Harley, this is bad, this is very bad! Skipping over mouldy puddles and half bricks till Harley points at a metal cable tethered to a thick chimney stack. “This is how they get the fresh cocaine bags down ta the dealers' ' she points at the tethered metal and pulls two harnesses out to clip onto the line. The scientist now sees what Harley intends. There is a method to her madness after all Harley runs to the edge with the harness, Ivy follows grabbing onto the slick handles. Shuffling forward the athlete zips up her jacket against the windchill, just as Bat’s infamous grapple clatters and catches the edge of the rooftop. He has found them. That's all Ivy needs to hear to jump off the ledge and she whizzes off the roof! Next thing she knows she's zipping across the river with her heart in her mouth.
Quinn runs some duct tape round her jacket securing the case to her chest. Risking a look back, Batman looms like a knight from the depths of hell. Clad in black armour. “No gratitude for fixing Brainiac’s mind games then huh Brucie?” He says nothing. Moving with caution excepting one last futile hail-mary. Trickier for her to shuffle off the ledge while wearing the briefcase, he grabs at her. “See ya never B-man!” Quinn goes “Wheeee!”as she slips his grasp yet again till the novelty and the endorphins of a close escape wear off. Already assuming her and Ivy have got away.
Wind whistling in her hair Ivy holds onto for dear life soon hearing Harley catching up behind her. No idea what their next move is. “Selfie!” Harley snaps a picture dangling with one hand on her phone, as they speed down the Impromptu zipline. Beneath them awaits only the unforgiving ice covering the river. Hard and dark as concrete. Cutting the city in half. Gotham laid out before Ivy like gleaming mountains of wet soil. The soulless truth of the city is invisible from up here, as the whip whips her hair and flares up Harley's jacket. Looking over the lights and the drizzling rain to the suburbs on the horizon Ivy's almost glad of the view. Never before seeing the city from this angle. For the first time tonight she's glad she's out here.
Ride over too quickly Ivy lands on her ass and scrambles to her feet finding herself waiting for Harley before they scramble into the shadows together. Harley glides to a stop, boots dragging in the muck. “Woohoo!” she exclaims, "Red! Our rides over here!” tossing the case into a waiting van. Ivy has no idea where the waiting van came from, but she climbs in regardless. Hyperventilating. Muttering to herself “That was too close.” but Harley listens and says “Ya were right! Time for me to get an upgrade!” Ivy ignores her, still buried in her own fears of being poked and prodded again in Arkham or forced into servitude in the Suicide Squad doing the US government's dirty work as a federal prisoner she cannot think of anything worse. The duo has escaped. This time. Harley gambled with both our lives.
“Ooh did I get a shot with the bat? Aww no luck” moans Harley checking her phone. The mid zipline selfie gets posted to her encrypted Instagram anyway with a caption and a dozen hashtags. The burner phone then gets casually tossed out the window. Ivy sighs in relief. Looking around she's in a stolen decorator's van with a few paint cans and brushes. Nondescript. Smart! An old man sits in the front passenger seat having kept the engine idling for them. Ivy peers at him, a shrivelled old bald man in thick coke bottle glasses hunched over the wheel. She can't stop herself from blurting “Sy?” My old landlord what the fuck?
“That's me,'' he says, “Do I know you?” squinting through the mirror at the green skinned stranger with the bushy red mane. Vaguely recalling Poison Ivy from the news, but that missing tenant of his is long forgotten. “Didn’t tell me you’d have guests Harley! She better not be staying at your place?” “Oh, not for more than a night, Sy! Now move over, I'm driving! ” Ivy isn't listening just realising Senile. He can't place me. She finally relaxes for the first time that night since Harley had stunned her with the raid. Settles into her seat. Blood still pumping, the rush feels welcome now they are out of danger. Enthused that even those who knew Pam only see Ivy. reassured in who she is.
Mercifully, Harley hadn’t heard Ivy name him. “Oh yeah, this is Sy I bought my lair from him and helps me out as a driver sometimes.” She leans round to explain to Ivy while still driving. “All in exchange for cash of course” he points out “but it's good to get back out there in the thick of it all again! She punches imaginary opponents. “Dodging the law, the IRS, and Men in Black! And besides, I’ve done worse, oy way worse…” He trails off mumbling about Cuba and MK Ultra and Extraordinary rendition. Ivy rolls her eyes, he's madder than Harley. Pam never spoke to him about anything other than rent before.
“Normally he'd drive off and torch the van but tonight maybe just wash it out with quicklime…” Harley pre-emptively recalls Ivy's values. Carbonising cars or ditching them into the Gotham River would not be acceptable tonight. “What do I gotta do all that for?” he grumbles. “Just get it done Sy” Harley says flatly. Staying on Ivy's good side.
“Ya wanna ride up front Ives?” Harley coyly suggests.
“I'm good.” The flat reply comes on automatic as Ivy ponders on the fact that even her landlord has hidden depths and a criminal lifestyle. Cruising through the industrial district, Ivy stares aghast at how vast it's gotten! Spilling out into the county.
Old tenements and overpriced slums demolished. Making way for overpriced gentrified boxes that no average Gothamite could afford. Even the Elliot family Common has been sold off and turned into a damn Amazon warehouse! The old Iceberg lounge is in mid demolition making way for Sionis Towers. The city has grown around her like weeds. Having not seen this much of it in a long time, she’s forced to confront how she's not even holding back the tide. Gotham has swallowed her. The scale of the abuse laid bare. I've been in my comfort zone too long. I’m fighting a losing battle.
Just cruising past the ruin of ACE chemicals when Ivy, busy mulling over if she’s desperate enough to engage Quinn’s advances to reclaim that same feeling power once more, hears it! “ Not again! ” The coughs and snarls of that infamous engine! The Batmobile has their scent. “Umm Harley don't celebrate yet. He's back on us” she mutters, tasting the foul diesel stink. Heavy on Ivy’s attuned senses. Confirming her worst fears, a cold sickness settles her gut like that carbon spewing thing was inside the van with her.
Harley looks back “What is it?!” Then she hears it too. The low revving rumble grows louder. High above them in brutalist apartment blocks, onlookers twitch their curtains. There's no car like it in all of Gotham. The Bat is on the prowl again. Having found time to return to his car and cross the bridge All while we bickered. Doesn't this dickweed ever give up?
“Oh shit! Hold on Red!” Harley yells, flooring the gas pedal. Ivy grabs onto her seat just avoiding being flung backwards. Pam scurries back to watch her doom, transfixed on Batman as he roars up on their tail, filling the lane. Headlights blinding, Ivy cursing, screwing eyes shut and ducking.
Until they whip around into the labyrinthian alleys of Gotham, not letting the gas up for a second. The limo-like tank can pass but only carefully losing speed and ground for every manic turn. The van is lightweight compared to him. Shortcutting their way across the city. Ok so maybe there are some benefits to getting to know Gotham. Ivy admits internally as Quinn takes another shortcut she hadn't known existed. Chassis scraping brick. Dodging the Batmobile’s advances.
Next Harley veers back into oncoming traffic, tires squealing. Weaving and bobbing. Ivy knows nothing about cars yet wonders if this heap is souped up somehow. The driver laughs maniacally at all the blaring horns and swerving cars. She returns their raised fingers. Enjoying their looks of shock. Harley bites her lip tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, driving with manic purpose, swerving, and always accelerating with eyes locked on the horizon. Always thinking of the next turn or manoeuvre. Not daring to look back at the rear view. Sy mutters and curses to himself quietly; they both ignore his grumbling anyway.
On a straight now, so the Bat opens up his nitrous. Fwoosh! The trio hear the flames roar. flickers of blue fire behind the shadowy car. For a split-second Ivy can see him sitting there fists clenched around the wheel, clad in his horned black cowl, lantern jaw covered in greying stubble. Then the moment passes, and she can barely hear herself think as the road shakes under his engine, van rattling with noise. Till his ram collides with the back the doors fly loose and open. Ivy bared in his lighthouse headlights. The van swerves wildly, Harley compensating, eating up the shock. The licence plate spins off to be swallowed by truck tires.
Harley knows from nights spent shooting at the Batmobile, while her crush raced him in Stolen convertibles. That all the Batmobiles tricks work best when he’s in front. Oil spills, tow rope, tire spikes. All useless right now! Quinn cringes still confused on what to think about those mad nights spent with the wind whipping in her pigtails, Joker crouched, flooring it, while she stood in the passenger seat, an easy target spraying lead at the bullet-proofed car. She won't let all that fun be tainted by her toxic ex. Unlike him she's bored by the moody Bat. Just wanting to shake him. She won't ever send Ivy or Sy out on the roof with a rifle that’s for sure. Who knows how Brainiac changed him? Maybe he grew some balls or is he still too scared to kill us? Sy shakes his fist at passers-by, cursing, backseat driving as another car knocks a wing mirror off. The Nitrous and that coffin sized ram are her main worries. The van mere tinfoil to that lobstered rocket.
“Get lost bat brain! Ya ruining girls' night!” Harley drives too fast for Ivy to summon any vines; her fate is in Quinn’s hands. Almost freeing to think there's nothing she can do here. If she gets caught at least she can blame Harley. She can scream at her from the confines of another straitjacket till her voice goes numb and hope her echoes reach Quinn’s cell. A bitter part of her wants a new reason to hate her. The hearse shaped juggernaut eats up road snarling inevitably closer. In the madness of the moment the activist thinks about much fuel that monstrosity must guzzle. More than a semi-truck with that rocket up its ass! Knowing this rusty old heap won’t withstand another hit! Of all tha cars to race tha Bat in! Quinn gripes while Ivy looks for something to do, grabbing and tossing some old cans and a paintbrush at him. All bouncing off but still smearing his windscreen red! He counters that with wipers that wash it off the screen. Ivy rolls her eyes Of course he has cleaning spray! Is there any gadget he doesn't have?
Rubberneckers in the other lane ogle the chase, slowing down, steering wobbling, smartphones flashing. No clue who's even being chased. Too busy snapping pics of the famous Batmobile! Sy blares the horn madly as if he has the right of way. Only constant twists and turns keep the Batmobile behind them. Buying time, with all three aware of that. Ivy watches cars, benches and trash cans whip past, mere inches from the backdoor. Harley’s tight turns kissing the pavement. Ivy won't sacrifice Harley's loot though, getting desperate enough to consider tossing the useless dummy at the Bat.
The armoured ram and magnesium flare headlights eat the ground between them. Blinding spotlights illuminating his targets. The jet engine rumbling, built for this! Common sense tells Ivy “Harley no way you’re gonna outrun that thing for long! This isn’t some shitty action movie, he's too damn heavy to stop!”
Harley agrees with Ivy and veers off Sy's course. Taking them down a slope riding the skid of puddles. Skimming a pavement. Smashing through a wire and driftwood gate that looks as old as Gotham itself. Into a wide tarmac space that drops straight into the Gotham River, an old shipping dock “Godammit! Harley, this is a dead end!” Ivy rages. Cornered in a shipyard! What an undignified death. This can't be her plan? Ivy only now sees how much faith she placed in Harley when it's gone. Fearing she has gotten lost and killed them both. This is what I get for losing control! Part of her relishes and wallows in this, wanting to blame Harley and lay all her woes on her.
Rusting hulks and grimy warehouses line the mouldering dock. The foul stench of fish guts, brine and stinking diesel fills the van. No cover from the approaching chariot, just a wide empty space. Harley hunches down accelerating again, seeming to know where she's going. Yet aiming straight at the edge? Ivy's mind races upon understanding what Harley intends. “No way Quinn!” Harleys taking them onto the ice!
The Batmobile will be too heavy for the thinning ice, yet the real gamble is-are they light enough to cross themselves? It's not spring yet but various statistics about Gotham’s receding ice floes flash back through her mind. Racing climate change yet again. Totally powerless, Ivy can drive but not like this! It’s all down to Harley!
“Too late.” Harley spins the wheel drifting past the bollards! Driving suicidally straight down the dock ramp to the still frozen river! Van shaking all the way. Ivy winces as they touch down. Feeling the wheels looking for grip on the slick crust.
“Come on! How hard can ice road trucking be?” Harley gabs. Chill and already assuming if they were going to sink, they would have. “Harley this isn't the fucking Pacific! You know we’re fucked if the ice breaks?”
“Oyy I can't look! Some of us can't swim, you know!” Sy covers his eyes. The van is barely light enough. Ivy's never feared ice before but hearing it crack like that… she shudders at the boomy echoes. meltwater sloshes past the wheels, spraying the sides. A tightrope walk of white cracks are spread in front waiting for them. Ivy looks back, the Batmobile has stopped on the very lip of the dock. The figure inside judges his chance then turns and sinks back into the night, there is always more crime for him.
The thin coating of slush makes it an unnervingly smooth ride, though Sy and Ivy flinch at every Boom and Krack! Ivy can't tear her eyes away from watching hairline fractures shoot out from behind their wheels. “Holy shit!” says Ivy looking back she sees spiderwebs of cracks in a drunken pattern across the ice. She twitches at each like a gunshot. Suddenly more respectful of the other powers of nature. Once they are halfway over, the ice gets thicker, and Harley giggles, laughing harder. “ Suck it Mr Freeze!” acting cooler than the ice, sliding slick across the smooth pane, though her knuckles are white from briskly tugging on the steering wheel to ride the drift. Ivy is beginning to relax when Harley exclaims “Look no hands!” Ivy whips round in shock and fury, eyes as edged as jade, “Kidding! Kidding! Harley reassures with hands at ten and two. Hydroplaning then slamming hard into the concrete piling. Screeching up the ramp and merging with the traffic on the other side. “Nicely done!” Sy claps Harley on the shoulder. Even Ivy feels she's earned praise “Er-Great driving Harley.”
Sweating slightly, Harley crashes back into her seat. Escaped in style ! Ivy, still glued to the floor, pauses till her heart is under control. Holy shit we just beat the Batman!
Fuck what a rollercoaster! Ivy has no idea of where they are heading next, as they pass the old gothic Clock Tower ringing at midnight. Ivy being driven to who knows where. Powerless once more. Home free now, relaxing a little, being a lone wolf was a lot more stressful than just letting someone else take the lead for once. But she misses being in charge.
Clambering up gripping the front seats. Watching the city pass through the rain slicked windows. Gotham still looks like shit! She stares out of it trying to piece together her thoughts, she hasn't had a moment's rest since Harley's text came through. Even this polluted city’s acid rain wasn't good enough for her plants. Making them and her both sick. Harley follows the rules of the road, blending in effortlessly. Even putting the radio on! Ivy soon spies the city's one failed concession to environmentally friendly transport. Thomas Wayne’s unfinished electric monorail station still lingering, a squat gargoyle with tracks entering its dark mouth. Having sat like that since his murder.
Harley hums along as Ivy broods in silence. Ego bruised. Operating as a lone wolf made her feel in charge. Her powers and status had meant little tonight. Harley had been the alpha. Ivy bites her lip. Scowling at the world. Vowing to get better at close combat. Stealth requires forethought and an analytical mind yet without her plants she is almost naked. The part of her that's still Pam thinks Harley helped expose a weakness and educated me . The rest of Ivy stuffs that down.
Eventually they swing into the car park of an abandoned themed motel. Once a small-time casino; now there's wire fencing around the perimeter and signs warning passers-by of asbestos and black mould. Car park is empty aside from broken bottles and used needles. Only junkies will get this close, Gotham’s vandals know better than to try and break into the otherwise tempting squat. The dead neon sign once promised games as good as Vegas; now it resembles a ghost town swallowed up by the Nevada desert and spat out in Gotham's underbelly. Its playing card themed decor now looks both faded and tacky.
Sy drops them off. Harley pays him his share of diamonds and hangs onto the dummy. Some collectors will pay big for this, or I'll hang on ta the lil cutie. He drives off with a wave, still mumbling about grassy knolls and false flags, leaving them alone, Harley smiles like nothing is wrong. This had been one hell of a night out!
“Thanks for everything, Ivy I couldna done it without ya!” A quizzical glance escapes from under Ivy's control. The studious Doctor Quinzel spots it. “If ya hadna got the safe open so fast I woulda had to run some rings round Gordo’s boys!”
“Hmm guess that's true.” Ivy agrees. Opening up a fraction. Maybe I should be like Harley and go with my gut but it's telling me we should… “I can't let ya go without showing ya ma crib!” A strong wrist leads Ivy to the front of the building.
“Now this is my lair!” Harley points proudly at the motel “I got a whole hotel just for me! I call it the HQ! Get it?” It's three wings wrapped around a pool. Nothing special unless it was all yours, then it's a mansion! Bigger than any apartment Pamela had ever lived in. Not counting her current lair. Harley twirls, spreading her arms wide showing the place off. Finally bouncing right into Ivy’s personal space making her rear instinctively. Behaving as though she's unkempt or bedraggled yet she still looks amazing to Harley’s eyes. Slick with streaks of sweat and rain from her hair to her trousers. Rocking that badass leather jacket over her supermodel figure folding her arms. Hair coiled up like red rope, fringe pulled professionally out of her eyes. Harley fights the urge to lick her lips.
“Ya wanna come in, get a tour of the place and maybe celebrate after all?” Harley coyly suggests with a wink. Plotting a perfect cap to a great night out. She wouldn't normally push her luck but Ivy’s so cute and badass plus we already banged. Can we be friends with benefits at least? Harley giggles internally amused knowing how Ivy surely wants more than being a fuckbuddy right? She deserves better. Yet even a simple hook-up seems to be a huge commitment and effort for her. The redhead pauses and stares back in awkward angst. People skills coming into play Dr Quinzel realises she's evaluating me. Like that sexy school miss I had ma first girl crush on. Hmm she was the only one to ever get me to sit still.
Ivy back at the pleading eyes, beaming with such enthusiasm, while pale fingers gently touch green digits, too coy to take Ivy’s hand. Blood spots dried to freckles on that white painted face. Blue eyes flicking between a soft open-hearted desire and a hard cunning sharpness. Scrutinising her in turn, Ivy desperately searches in vain for some flaw. Maybe the overgenerous purple round her eyes? Nope even that looks minxy. Her close-cropped hairstyle military back and sides with childish space buns decorating it like gems, multicoloured sides done in space buns remind the activist of budding flowers. Tightly coiled, begging to be unwound…. Hair that blonde, has to be dyed! Right?
A kiss in the rain with the earnest blonde would be a beautiful moment. Yet predictable and repulsively romantic. Once Pam shared a moment just like this with Bella at Gotham airport after the latter returned from a long business trip. Embracing outside the terminal, the loyal loser had waited there to pick her partner up. Ivy now wonders. Who did she fuck there? Refusing to ever be part of another soppy crappy moment like that ever again. One of the most infamous women in Gotham awaits Ivy’s word. Immense power handed back; she wonders what a real villainess would do. You'd have to be insane to turn Harley Quinn down…
“Fuck no!" Ivy denies flatly. Throwing her hands and shaking her head. This whole thing was a mistake. I have my own thralls and raids to run. I don't need her. Harley's mere presumption irks her, surprising Quinn with “How could you think there's any chance after all this shit?! You're insane Quinn! How do you get people to do this? I see why you're alone! Suicidal squad is right! What the hell is wrong with you? Pushing her away as much as she dares.
Stung an upset Harley stumbles back, pouting then looking at the ground like a scolded child. Scratching her hair, drawing sad circles with her foot. Coming up with a response. More emotional than at any point prior tonight, until mumbling “Geez, sorry Ives. I only wanted to show ya a good time. I wouldna let anything happen to ya. I had plans and they worked! That’s literally an adventure! Don't get so prickly ya did great! All that adrenaline buzz got me worked up aint you're the same?”
“No way! "Ivy claims “There's nothing you can say to get your way this time!” She waits daring Harley to respond, looking forward to refuting whatever she says, to denying her, to proving how tough she is. Eager to pick apart any entitled delusions.
“Ya know what? Fine! Screw this Ives! No more messing around! If ya wanna miss out on me, well that's fine! Just figure ya own shit out. Ya sure as hell didn’t drop ya number for crewing up so I don't know why ya came along? I never asked ya ta do nothing ya ain't before! It sure seems ta me like ya don't know what ya want!” Tapping her foot with hands on her hips now. Owed an answer. She doesn't want informal she denies anything formal. I'm not some booty call she can ghost for ages!
At last aggression! This she can understand! “Harley, you do take some fucking liberties!” Ivy tugs at her messy hair in frustration. “After the run-around, all night! You have me all wrong! You must think I'm some soft bleeding-heart romantic ! You think I need this? You don't know me!” God! The fucking arrogance!
“Ya right I don't! But I've been trying ta! Geez, friends with benefits still means friends ya know!” Animated now, getting red faced underneath the greasepaint, annoyed at how the smallest thing is a big deal for Ivy! Harley is sick of getting treated the way he treated her! She won't take that anymore! “This was ya idea, don't drop ya number If ya don't feel like messing around!” Harley is always herself; Figuring Ivy had already got a very clear impression. Not my fault she’s soured now but make a friggin decision! “Ya hate me so much then don't come next time!” Dejected, disappointment giving way to anger.
“Harley, I didn't mean it like that.” She scrambles, softening her tone. Harley's quivering lip melts her rage. Quinn doesn't deserve this; I just can't be around her. Godammit she has the sweetest face!
“Ya don't sound sure of what ya want at all, Ives.” A jibe like that oughta get anyone worked up! As long as she feels something!
“I am.” She declares, planting her legs wide. "I just didn't come out here to do your dirty work. I don't want to be your sidekick.”
“Ya not. We were just partners in crime. I only do team ups now.” Harley asserts herself jabbing a thumb at her chest, closing in.
“I don't want to be part of your team. I fear I would lose my independent image...” she drones on.
“I thought ya didn't care about that? Harley gesticulates digging deeper “What ya afraid of me or something?” narrowing her eyes “I'm flattered!”
“Fuck no!” She denies with a shake. “I'm in constant tune with the raw force of nature. I'm not afraid of you.”
“Well then what are ya so afraid of?” Quinn would try anything once. But Is Ivy really so afraid of diving into somewhere she's already been?
Ivy stares agape at the imagined challenge she feels Harley has issued. Floating just above her subconscious Pam mutters Losing to that other natural force that compels men and women alike. Rather than answer Ivy locks eyes with her target and voice heavy with resignation to her destiny sighs “Goddammit Harls!” before taking a deep breath in preparation, shoving out, propelling Harley hard against the door. In that spare second after impact, Ivy closes her eyes, and jumps in! As green and red lips collide, Harley thinks that's good enough for me!
Notes:
Yes. Another chapter opening with a sex scene. But this was always the plan. I will try to break things up more unless that is what you want? Stay tuned and I promise you will find out more about Ivy refuses to get close to her and why Harley is always willing to take a chance on her. More than just sex but still coming faster. Hopefully this year.
I was so close to beating the TGA trailer by only 2 days!why the ventriloquist? because he's underused.
Chapter 6: Mad lust
Summary:
another smut chapter following on immediately from the events at the end of the last chapter. Harleys lair after the big raid.
Notes:
Sorry for the delay.
I was working on other fics but I have refined my plan for this and its getting very exciting.
In this gap the game was delayed again and also looks like it sucks now. Ah well that means they wont break my canon after all.
The show has also stolen one of my ideas that I have had for months. Well a version of it. You'll see mine later but I had it first! and to a more realistic and sane degree.
Gonna be a break from smut in the next chapters at least for a time.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Kissing madly. No time for Pam's slower, more sensual style, only for gorging madly, licking deep into each other's open mouths. Scarface and the loot dropped as soon as Harley starts playing with something more interesting. Starting with a cheeky tug at Ivy's rump then running that hand up her spine. Letting her guard down, Ivy grapples with a fury that wasn’t present last time.
Taken off guard Quinn already prefers this new hungry side of Ivy. She's fierce! Guess it's true what they say about absence! Relief floods her, having begun to worry they were over before they’d even gotten started.
Awareness of her bold gambit, compels Ivy to react. Going further to show she can fuck without caring. Kiss without meaning. Be the same legendary seductress her underworld reputation claims she is. Kissing the blonde the way the redhead thinks she wants to be. A palm pressing hard into the soft flesh of Harley’s exposed belly. Keeping her pinned flat to the door. While she's cocking a dainty leg into the kiss.
Rain dampened hair, makeup running, jacket spotted with droplets. Harley's mouth is wet, warm and more welcome than ever. Reacting quickly. Lips catching hers. Bodies warm in the empty night air. Breathless exclamations lost to the rain. Quinn pushes back. Getting her claws into Ivy. Exploring mouths until they’re etched in muscle memory.
They’re a tangle of limbs battering aggressively at the door. Neither is willing to break the lip lock first. Finally, Harley relents, opening it so they can tumble in. Ivy crashes them into the lift. It’s harsh metal panels adding to their shared bruises. Taking the stairs would require slowing. Harley thumps the up button before getting back to claiming as much of Ivy as possible. Who's heart is pounding. Adrenaline rushing. Acting on instinct trying to run ahead of her partner. self-conscious second-guessing. Easily distracted by warm fingers gliding over her neck, nails furrowing into her ripe green flesh. Ivy digs back into a firm rear. Hands settling there for the ride up. A firm hand to Quinn’s head. Surprising the Olympian with her impulsive urge, “Mmm” moans a playful Ivy embodying her clownish idol.
A rattly lock opens just in time, the door nearly flying off its hinges as they hurtle inside her suite. Harley spins Ivy, giving her a push towards the couch. “Ooh! Music!” Quinn declares reaching for her boombox, to get her sex playlist going . “Nope.” Ivy says firmly, grabbing her wrist with purposeful fingers. No more distractions. Though sex with a soundtrack is another thing Pam's never tried.
Quinn slumps slightly. “I don't want to hear anything but you.” Ivy quips. Cringing internally at the lamest, most cliche lines stolen from TV shows half watched with Bella. But Harley bounces back, eating up the sentiment.
Ivy looks round first noticing a few healthy succulents on the windowsills. Heart warms upon sensing they’re in a healthy condition. Slowing her racing pulse. Raising eyebrows at the two huge hyenas slumbering in giant cages filled with chew toys. Snoring, speckled brown chests rising and falling. Observing walls decorated with bullet holes, then made messier with graffiti doodles. Decorated like some rave room or punk mosh pit that Pamela would never have dared enter. Countless knives are lodged in the plaster for efficient access. Only having eyes for what must be her bedroom. Bed itself wears silk sheets and many, many pillows. Books piled up on every side. Mismatched bedside tables overflowing with stuff. A tangle of pink and purple hued fairy lights hangs over Harley's most intimate space.
Draping her jacket over the couch, looking at Quinn who matches her carnal stare. Raising her eyebrows, before leaping, almost bowling the redhead over the couch, supporting her with an arm, Kissing like they’re at the altar. Passion personified. The Redhead would be overbalancing if it weren’t for the couch. While the bisexual blonde doesn’t mind if they end up having sex on it.
Barraging her green face leaving perfect lipstick prints. Bucking, shamelessly rubbing hips with her lover. Sweeping both arms round her. Then Getting a thigh in between legs . Kissing with her whole body.
Ivy's knees buckle under the dynamo’s onslaught. Green fingers scamper for purchase over her red parachute jacket. Evoking fetish gear to Pamela with all its clinking buckles and squeaking leather straps. Making Ivy feel immature compared to the sexualised blonde. The idea of making out on the couch reminds her too much of wasted evenings spent with Bella after one of Pam's homemade vegan dinners. Shaking herself loose from bad memories, Ivy takes back the reins.
Lifting Harley by her lapels, who simply balances on her toes like a ballerina. Then Ivy falters but Quinn lets herself stumble closer to their shared goal. “Ya been working out?”
That green brow furrows “No!” She lies, catching her breath. Before pawing the floor and silencing Harley with her lips. Backing her toward the bed. Wanting to do things right, in the proper place for sex.
Harley smiles through their kiss, tickling Ivy under her ribs. Forcing her to smile too. Quinn could happily just make out all night. Head spinning with excitement. Mind running away with things they can try. Fantasising. While their bodies do all the talking. A mad cocktail of rage, respect, passion and animal attraction inevitably spiralling them down into the covers.
Carpe Diem. Isn’t this what Harley would do? If this is how Quinn likes it. I can go there! Ivy ups the ante. Clawing at exposed flesh under her cropped top and jacket.
Leaving red grooves. Scratching an itch. Reaching for her ass. Scrambling for grip on her tight leather pants as Harleys grinds against her. Quinn’s a legend. The coolest bitch in town. She thinks she's so tough. Let's see how rough she can get! Going feral, hoping her uncut nails can leave a mark. Draw some blood.
Quinns bowled over by the sudden fury Ivy ravages her with. Hoping to match her, repay her. If this is how Ivy really likes it shrugging slightly. Going crazy for her. Burrowing under her jacket, clawing her back through the shirt, Breaking the lip lock only to nibble tugging at her ear, proving nothing's off limits to her. Spying a healing piercing scar. She can't wear earrings no more. Straining to recall if that ginger Doctor had been wearing any jewellery all those years ago.
Rushing to bed, Ivy catches snatches of the lair. A knocked through wall creating a home gym. Exotic equipment the lean scientist is less familiar with. Loot from lockboxes, jewellery and bundles of cash are stashed in the walls like a rabbit’s warren. A tangle of Christmas lights bundled into the corners.
Paintings on the walls, sculptures on the floor and antiques piled up on a dresser. An eclectic, mismatched collection, each stolen item matching her mood at the time. Passing an easel with a half-finished abstract painting. She had not considered Quinn might try her hand at artistic endeavours. Soon distracted by piles of random junk like guitars, big speakers, a mannequin, a training dummy, a dart board.
Messy yet organised in Quinn’s own chaotic brand. Intentionally designed, cleaner than Joker's old place which had been all guns, drugs, corpses, cages, deathtraps, bombs and other so-called gags as he jumped from one project to another
Silenced by the impressive spread Harley has more criminal gear then Ivy's ever seen in one place. Making her own lab look meagre.
Catching a glimpse of tins of blue and red hair dye next to a showbiz style mirror along with the rest of Quinn’s clown makeup. Of course Harley can't go to a salon! She does her hair all by herself.
Those same space buns bounce like bunny ears as Harley hurriedly kicks her bong underneath the bed before Ivy spots it. Hoping to save questions about that for the morning after. Gotta burn off alla tonight's excess adrenaline… Knowing from experience there's no better time to fuck than right after a raid. Joker was right about some things. “Here's where the magic happens. Queen sized of course!” She flaunts. Thumping the duvet.
“I'll be the one Queening” vows Ivy. Harley wolf whistles. Oh mama! That silky sexy voice turns me on something fierce! I missed it! Having spent far too long as Joker's plaything, these days naturally taking control in bed unless someone wrests it from her. If Ivy has something up her sleeve, she’ll happily let her put on a show! Upon tasting freedom from jails and Joker all she wants is to do it all, and has begun ticking off an extensive bucket list. It's my time to live large!
Ivy imagines her wild sex life. Betting she's had all kinds of parties and any villain or villainess she wanted. Busy living the youth Pam hadn't. Being the kind of person, she wouldn't have thought possible. Assuming Quinn’s bed is never empty. That would certainly explain the swing. The intimidating construction makes her pause, knowing Pam would never have tried one. Envy gives an edge to her lust, feeling she can only express by getting her claws into Harley and consuming her. By knowing her deeply and carnally.
Oblivious and excited Harley tugs her boots off and flings them bouncing them off the wall. “Come on Red! Let's get it on!”
Out of practice, Pam hasn't done one nighters since college. Even then she’d taken her time choosing, clubbing was never really her thing. After graduation she’d just moved from one steady girlfriend to another. Now Pam calls upon Ivy to act in her stead. Who places her boot on Harley's chest, who helpfully undoes the redhead's bootlaces. The faster she's undressed…
Harley wriggles out of her jacket. Wordlessly passing that padded armour to Ivy who fluidly places it over a nearby chair. Sharing a clear goal. They work in tandem. Moving on tugging a tank top off, in a team effort, raising her hands, so Ivy can free her bleached body. On a pale wrist Ivy spies the blonde's new stolen watch alongside two other Rolexes. Topless, revealing more flesh pale as raw cookie dough and just as bad for you. Just a red and blue bra between Ivy and her goal, a sexier one than last time, Harley’s evening having gone to plan after all.
With a flourish reminding Harley of old pro wrestling moves. Ivy tilts their heads close together to grapple some more. Kissing like teenagers. Giving Pamela a dizzy head rush reminiscent of sugary drinks, bouncy castles and childhood parties. Immersed in Harley's world. Rain still lashes at the windows. Wind shakes the window frames. Police sirens whizz past, but in Harley’s fortress no one can touch them but each other. Impatient Ivy cannot restrain herself, having only one night. But so much she needs to do. In this brief oasis becoming who she wants. Dismissing whatever's between her and Harley as some form of trust or respect. She can afford to let her guard down.
Beginning by simply touching Harley’s soft flesh. Aching to simply tear away those pants but compelled to perfect this! Safe and warm underneath marvelling at how hot Quinn runs, she's bubbling with life! Like electricity under the skin, fresh from the oven. Nibbling at her neck hoping to take that raw current herself. Finding only her racing pulse.
Harleen finds herself resting upon Ivy whose legs are spread wide for her. Supporting both by keeping one hand planted in the bedsheet. Sucking at her pale neck, moaning into her ear.
Ivy plays as wild and carefree as the Harley of her mind , unspooling her studded belt, coiling it round her wrist, taking that motley costume apart. Liking the sound, it makes as it whooshes out belt loops. In a gesture of power tossing the studded garment as far as she can. “You won't be needing that.”
Finding her zipper and smoothly drawing those pants open. Not risking, touching her sex too early, just helping her strip. Studying and supporting Harley as she drives her into a frenzy. What Ivy’s doing to her from below makes Harley wish for a mirrored ceiling so she could see the activist’s expressions. The gleeful Ivy’s busy biting her lip, eyes alight with malevolent madness. Mouth and eyes wide.
Finding Harley’s bud hard even through her panties, a comforting damp patch forming. Quinn quivers at the light touch even through cotton. Filling with cool fire. Like she'd been an empty vessel all this time awaiting Ivy's fingers. I need 'em in me! Long green and elegant. Knuckles busy, silently tormenting her, tracing her shape though panties. Pam’s mouth is open awaiting Harley’s responses while she's gritting her teeth, enduring Ivy's sting.
Harley's breath catches, while Ivy’s is heavy in her ear. Quinn’s hands fly to Ivy's hair. Restless for something of hers to toy with! Aww fuck! She knows I been dying for her! Squirming, knees rubbing together with tinny squeaks. Wanting badly to see her face right now. Ivy's sure picking up where she left off! Legs weak already. Fearing she may just cum right here right now! Accepting that fate, she'll bounce back straight afterwards!
Then… the hand’s withdrawing! Drawing up past her waistband, fingers brushing her navel, gliding on up past her eyeline to Ivy’s mouth. Who audibly kisses her damp fingers for Quinn’s ears only!
Harley’s clit throbs, itching against her pants. She’d be stuffing a hand down there right now if Ivy wasn't refusing to give her any room to think. Cunt aching with need like a lingering gut punch. Useless for anything else tonight since the moment their tongues touched. Harley’s never one for doing things half-heartedly.
Twisting amorously on top of Ivy. Who instinctively hooks a thumb in Quinn’s mouth opening it to the side, so Harley fondly sucks on the digit. Causing the twosome to writhe as one over the covers. Rain lashing the windows as they tear at one another.
Till Ivy gets both hands inside Harley’s pants, shaking them vigorously, a clear sign. Harley rolls off thrusting her legs out helpfully, Ivy peeling the hem of the tight pants off her sweaty legs. “Ugh! why do you insist on so much leather?” Sticky trousers clinging to her flesh all the way down to the ankles. Gasping with relief Ivy lobs them out of sight and playfully threatens “Any longer and I would have cut you out of those.” Covering up how rusty she is with all the minutiae of hookup culture. Feeling an imposter. Out of her depth, out of her league, faking it till she makes it. “Ya better not have.” Quinn warns “they’re ma favourite.”
Next the elder woman greedily peels off Quinn’s stylish yet sensible sports bra, finding it stained with a V of sweat. Taking a moment to admire Harley's beauty under the lights. Perky pale breasts teasing a slight blush and rosy nipples getting stiffer by the minute. Cute and unmarked. For now .
Harley smiles, leaning in for another quick kiss before the heels of the green dominatrix's palms knead her doughy breasts. Pushing back. Compliant blonde soon spreads herself on the sheets. Ivy pins her with her knees on her arms. Denying the excitable bouncing clown control. Sitting astride her mount. Arranging marble arms in a diamond. Pinning her wrists above head. Quinn doesn't know where this is going but liking it so far. I hope Ivy's plotting to squat that booty on ma face!
Instead, the redhead grins maliciously and slowly begins to unbutton her shirt. Fingers working the buttons, wrenching her collar open with a smile. baring her own bra, Quinn flicks her eyebrows up in admiration of Ivy’s choice of sensual lingerie. Ivy’s gone all out fa me! An eager audience to Ivys’ little striptease.
Halfway down, she swaps working from the bottom up. Drawing this moment out. Until one final button holds the shirt taut over her chest. Ivy still holds all the cards. Licking her lips at this power over Harley who's drumming her feet, fidgeting, fingers twitching. Vibrating with excitement she's yet to actually see the Metahuman go full frontal. But once this is done Pam will be level with Harley. Baring herself in more ways than one. Nothing to hold over her. Thinking on whether she wants to give this up, Anxious about losing Quinn’s loyal mania. Overthinking what should be simply facts.
Fixating on the blonde's grin silently promises nothing can go wrong. She won’t let an ulterior motive spoil her well-earned fun. Desire wins out over doubt. She caves in, undoing the last and Poison Ivy rises. Sitting up, towering above Quinn.
Unveiling herself, red curtains swing open. Succubus holding the shirt wide. Quinn's eyes go wide. Mouth agog. Ivy smirks, enjoying the rapt audience. Once her bra goes, she will have no cards left to play. Nothing to hold over Quinn. Yet excitement at thoughts of what Harley will do once she gets her hands all over her replaces doubt.
Getting nervy Harley warns “I showed ya mine Red.” Assuming Ivys going full frontal time, frowning. She’d better. Making grabby motions with her trapped hands. “Play fair.”
“Well, you've been a good girl…” Ivy purrs. Words flowing easily off her tongue. Pam couldn't improvise this well back in college am-dram class! Leaning close, moving her knees off.
One hand on her pounding heart stills the Olympian. Then letting her go. “If you think you can manage to…” Quinn’s needy fingers slide under shirt and over skin, scampering across the bra latch unlocking it before Ivy can finish.
Who wriggles the straps off, finally fully baring herself for her alone. Entrusting the bra to Quinn who discards it, jaw dropping “Ives babe! Holy smoke show girl! Ya too good fer a town like this” Having fantasised about this moment since the first time she saw Ivy on the news. Who catches two pale wrists as they leap at her chest.
Not letting Poison make the next move. Lemme at 'em! Countering Ivy's control, by ducking her head in and instinctively taking one in her mouth. Sucking greedily on a nipple only wishing she had more hands or more heads as she slathers her tongue around the jade bust. Ivy moans, glad of the attention. Carelessly rubbing Quinn’s hair as she suckles. Who exposes the depths of both their passions.
Impossible for her to ignore the other breast, Quinn gropes it. Tending to the other nipple with an outstretched thumb. Ivy laughs in delight. Quinn’s ministrations stoke something in her, specially from the way she plucks her nipples between her teeth. Such passion only comes from honesty! Evoking care-free glee from within. Soon those soft tips quickly stiffen. Finally peeling away with a trail of drool following from a now polished jade nipple, blue eyes gleaming, pupils dilated, looking to Ivy who only finds the sidekick somehow filled only with more excitement. Trying to talk past her convulsive delighted giggles. Ivy's green eyes turn dark and hungry with malevolent desire.
Given an inch, Quinn takes a mile, not stopping sinking her teeth in on pent up instinct. Appreciating the hard dark peaks capping softer green flesh. Testing tenderly, eyes catching Ivy’s for signs of doubt. Finding only an invitation. A fresh crop of tiny lip shaped marks rising. Nibbling her way up to her collarbone. Tugging at her shirt to make sure the elusive environmentalist doesn't retreat.
Unable to resist she dips back down, indulging herself blotting that entire green bust before coming up for air. Ivy smiles back. Understanding Harley meant every bit of it and she's not the butt of some joke. Emboldened enough so the quip “Do you do that to all the girls?”
“I wish!” Harley is far from finished so she falls on the mature woman toppling them both onto the bed kissing, but neither can survive or be sated on kissing alone.
The ice between them shattered, no going back. Another level deeper, entwined and entangled even more but these consequences just don't matter to Ivy right now.
Opening up to being more playful tonight. Finding it exponentially easier to relax This is all just pheromones dammit! Oxytocin that's all. Though all that science doesn’t change how wet just tasting Quinn’s spit makes her. Even in this impromptu early foreplay Harley senses the upgrade between this time and last. Gasping the clear progression from fucking to sex. One more time with feeling! Last time was just two strangers screwing but now they share their bliss, making eye contact as palms pleasure sexes. Fingers stroking lips through thin pants that offer no protection from their passions. Harley's hands delve into hair, vanishing in that soft bushy tangle until they emerge with the hair band and pins that keep that red treasure together. It tumbles loose around Ivy. Who pretends to look miffed but that taut bun always gives her a headache.
Getting used to locking lips with Harley, Ivy finds that addictive peace she only gets when working in the solitude of her lab, becoming one with Harley at least physically. Focusing on the act, not the woman. Cringing internally at just how easily she gives in. The edges of weakness threaten to topple her, yet she can't pull away. It's just been too long, that's all. Fidgeting, she shifts them. Without thought Ivy has pulled them into the lotus positions sitting facing each other and necking like horny teenagers. Intimacy on instinct. Observing this Quinn struggles to swallow her smile, keeping it off her multicoloured lips as she kisses, unable to avoid pointing out “Ya sure kiss like ya missed me Red.”
“Shut up Quinn.” She admonishes suppressing a smile. Don't give me room to think! Ivy undoes her own pants and slips them smoothly down her legs till they drop onto Harley only then does she take them off. Triumphant Harley can't look away from her prize and its frizzy red mane, untrimmed since their last encounter. Fighting carnal urges resisting delving down there too early, not before Ivy's melting and moaning in her grip. “Impressive bush Red! Maybe I oughta grow mine out?”
Quinn has no qualms about losing the lead. She looks so excited! That's freakin cute! Ivy’s been on a starvation diet of male thralls for far too long. Craving real pleasure and to see that cute face looking up at her with joy. Tongue lolling lips curled, looking as feral as Harley’s still sleeping Hyenas! They've slept through worse! Having freed Ivy's fiery veil Quinzel notes how She looks younger with it loose, hotter too but then who doesn't?
“Cmon Red show me what ya got up ya sleeves!” Snapping her back to reality. Ivy needs and hopes finishing this will wipe away past misdeeds, that and she really does hunger for it. “How'd you want it?” Instantly scolding herself for asking, not very commanding of her. Quinn crosses her eyes pausing to think, giving Ivy time to improvise. “Why don't show me how flexible you really are first?” she sneers, folding Quinn, sending her into a headrush “Stay down there” she commands, then Pam spoils the effect by softly mumbling “Is that good?” Since discomfort defeats the purpose of this position.
The ex-Olympian grabs her legs and pulls them back till her knees level with her head. “Go for it!” consenting she can take this contortion. Quinn’s had it rougher in harsher positions. However, it’s a fresh challenge! Excited to break boundaries with Ivy and share this with her. Though a little miffed at such an awkward distant position.
In a different life Bella used to dictate what they would do together. Never again! Ivy has a supervillain spread and vulnerable beneath her, legs spread wide in the air. She’s under my spell without me doing much of anything. I can do whatever I want to her. Taking her time tonight discovering details about Harley she overlooked last time, when keeping her at a distance. Like the tiny pin prick above her navel from when she'd gotten it pierced and worn a belly bar in college. The fresh bruises appearing under her ribs and across her thighs, she’d taken more pain in the fight than she'd let on. The little freckles here and there since she’d always had fair skin, the tiny dimples on her chin. Kissing her wherever she could because she can. No rush, no ulterior motive, just pleasure. Making Quinn as her very own puppet, Ivy lowers those pale legs, yanking her ankles down the bed, so she can loom over her and begin kissing her breasts, finding her nipples already as hard as budding seedlings. Tiny pricks in them too from when Joker had taken her to get them pierced, holding a whole studio hostage. Long since removed. Thank gawd I didn't go fer any dumb tattoos!
Playing her like an instrument, knowing just where and when, prior experience combining with all the focus and poise she conducts herself with as Ivy. Surprising Harley by first seizing her wrist and noisily sucking on those mismatched colourful nails one by one, maintaining eye contact throughout. Harley draws a sharp breath of surprise then sighs in delight. That's a new one! Letting Quinn’s hand drop limp, Ivy acts like it's no big deal quickly shifting to kiss along the low arc of her diaphragm. Following that heaving white plane. Tracing her lips round her belly button light as whisper at first, only merely suggesting, before deftly licking into it. Before pressing her tongue deeper, firmer. “Mmmm Ives that tickles!” Harley writhes with a dreamy sigh, squirming on the bed, wriggling deeper into the comforting sensation. Sprawling a hand over her face. Seeking more. Spurred on Ivy continues taking her tongue round the lip of her navel slower and slower.
“Oooh!” Quinn whistles Show-off! Abruptly aware of the heat of her crotch, sweating with juices. Aching to touch herself but that’d ruin the game. Cocking her legs in the air, Ivy deftly slips her panties off. Proud temptress getting hot under the collar herself, the psychiatrists' arousal is contagious. Fervently writing promises with her tongue. Treating the dimple with the same care she would any of Quinn’s lips. Channelling Harley’s sense of self and after this there's nowhere to go but down.
Folding Quinn back into that position like a coiled blonde spring. Giving the jester a taste of the Goddess . Ivy restrains herself from exposing her true hunger by merely nipping at white thighs. Getting bolder with each bite. Mouth wider, sucking her in. Moving in chaotic patterns keeping her partner on edge. A hooded Cobra full of venom hissing. Leaving no clue where she will strike. Stinging, stimulating bites leaving Harleen burning with desire. Thighs and crotch burning hot. Clit can’t help but swell. Wetness seeping out already. Pulsing with need. Taking no chances, feeling the pressure now, only one shot to do this perfectly.
Ivy observes the beauty of Harley's sex, intricate pink folds shiny and wet for her. Inhaling Quinn’s scent, there's nothing but the hot stink sex filling both their heads making them dizzy. Making contact is like taking a hammer to a pane of glass. Harley shatters. An itching want had been buried in her mind since watching Ivy's televised capture, the redhead hissing and spitting and screaming as SWAT restrained her. No, it ran deeper, to subconscious fantasies of a sad doe eyed redhead she’d victimised but never forgotten. Those flights of fancy finally realised. Optimism winning out. I can have it all! Last time it was too good to be true, but this, this is gonna be real!
Head thrown back, a single scream, almost swallowing her tongue. Tendons holding taut for a few seconds. Eyes screwed shut, until with great effort she peels them open, squinting she can't miss the sight of Ivy gorging, using her jaw, lips to labia, tongue waiting, drawing her mouth up her then adding a single kiss to her clitoris.
The sight of the devouring Ivy is so hot, Harley feels herself spasm, climbing another notch, Rookie mistake Quinn! As she gushes forth another wave of juices for Ivy who dutifully swills and swallows.
Over generous foreplay had gone straight to Quinn’s head, double what she needed. Feeling very wooed. Squirming happily and she acts like she don't care! Shifting her pelvis closer, feeling Ivy’s busy tongue licking up all the fresh wetness she's made. Harley sticks out her own tongue as Ivy sends her into further spasms, driving her silly, giddy with joy at Ivy’s selfless nature. Thighs a little sore in this folded up position. Ivy knows how to play rough!
Ivy tastes only hot popcorn, sweet and salty, running with thick syrupy goodness. Indulging herself for once guilt free. Rivulets run down the corners of her mouth as she sucks at Harley's clit and hood and those inner folds, just too tempting to ignore.
Harley peeks, having always loved watching her partner's tongue do its thing. To see them, mouth open, licking away at her own wet pussy. Checking that they’re beaming, enjoying themselves. Looking down to see a red-haired animal pawing at her crotch. Looking lost, deep in some voodoo drug trance, Ivy can't even see Harley's admiring looks, staring only at her wet cunt. Endlessly draping her tongue over quivering labial folds, lavishing the blonde. Chin coated in drool and more. She moans into Harley, stimulating her with a blast of her breath.
“Mmm ya sure know ya way around a flower!” Laughing, distracting her, trying to forget the last time when Ya left me with blue balls. Appreciating Ivy's focused method. There are mutual benefits to the precise way she circles her clit. Dosing her up, purposefully avoiding sweet relief. A depraved look in her bulging green eyes, the whites showing. Covering every bit of Harley’s exposed surface as she can. Fingers plucking at folds, spreading her lips further and further. Wet lips widen, clitoral veil sliding back. Till Harley’s arching backwards trying to escape the corkscrewing sensation climbing her crotch. Blonde melting in boiling waves, with every tracing gesture. Painfully patient. Quinn thrashes, begging her onto a clit that's screaming for equal attention.
Ivy pauses as if undecided, almost laughing, before flicking it like a springboard. In response the squealing blonde underneath is sent spiralling, into a bubble bath of ecstasy. The diligent Ivy strives to erase the bad memories of Penguin’s place with every lick. Now showing endless fascination in Harley’s reactive bud, soaked and quivering as badly as its owner. Ivy focuses her efforts, channelling them into the hard pearl. Adoring its smooth surface slick as aloe, yet hard as bamboo enduring all she throws at it. Jade fingers twitch, hungry to get involved. On impulse, popping one inside. Harley reacts with a howl, throwing an arm over herself, biting her own flesh to keep from exploding then and there! Pale sides running with clammy sweat. Finger crawling deeper. Quinn bites her tongue, otherwise she's likely to swallow it. Older woman knowing what needs to be done, curling her finger inside, stimulating as best she can. Compelling her, testing her limits. Studying her expressions. Ivys almost inhaling her, shaking her head as she sucks at her snatch. Gawd her mouth just fits perfectly! Harley’s ascending in fits of rapture. Pure glee at both having fun! Ivy is busy playing doctor sucking sharply on her pearly bud.
Embracing Quinn’s ethos.
“Stick another finger in me Ives.” More digits disappear inside. Up to the last knuckles. Shared glee increasing with each. Ivy's blind to her flapping shirt cuffs getting soaked, busy manipulating Quinn’s snatch with wet squelches, vocal responses far more satisfying than communing with any plant.
In the eye of the storm now. The coaxing fingers and rhythmic ministrations light Harley's fuse. I'm on ma home stretch! Familiar with this seizing sensation. Fizzing sparks throughout her whole body. slow burning napalm unleashed from her sweet spot. Wiggling her toes in delight. Clenching her fingers as the warmth claims them. Physically expressing the power building within, her peak visible now, just out of reach. Marvelling at Ivy's patience to plot such a huge orgasm. All fer me! But…
Catching Ivy's look, they share the same thought. Last time she left me high and dry. Fool me twice, shame on me. But seeing Ivy again is worth the risk. Green eyes quickly flick away, too fast to read. Brooding thunder rumbles outside. The stricken clown has a flash of fear, soon fading, threatening to give way to anger. I’ll kick her ass to the curb, if she pulls that shit in ma crib! She'd get the nasty end of Quinn’s madness if she tries bringing old bullshit into Harley's personal space. Doubts get louder as she gets closer. The most she's worried all night. More at stake than her orgasm, their budding relationship could all too easily be poisoned! Pushing that aside, focusing on herself. Stroking her own legs isn't helping at all; compelled to touch the wonder woman who's driving her buck wild! Finding Ivy's thighs, instantly soothed from the physical connection. Judging by those goosebumps she's as horny as I am!
Harley feels those same electric twinges that Ivy once tormented her with. This time she does not relent. She can't. Looking down at the clown. Pity, pride and passion take the reins, Raising Harley higher. Stone-faced despite her frantic tongue, Ivy holds her gaze as one final spasm tips her over the diving board. Watching relief flood Quinn before her eyes roll back.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Ascending even as Ivy lets her drop. Carried away, Overcome by twin waves of relief and elation, both physical and emotional. Words give way to gibberish which gives way to a brief interlude of silence as she contorts backwards, baring her throat to the She-wolf above. Lying still, nails biting palms, rictus grin splitting her face, spellbound. Holding the pose for a few seconds, before overflowing pleasure translates into fits of wordless giggles. Rendered hysterical. The jester is reduced to peals of laughter and speechless for the first time in a very long stretch!
Orgasmic contractions squeeze Ivy’s fingers tight like holding hands. Impossible for her not to sense the scale of the rampant spasms coursing through her. Forcing her to share this experience with her. Staying at her pulsating snatch, ensuring Harley's completion not moving away until she's certain it's its own beast.
Pam enjoys the show. Swelling with pride, feeling every bit the Superhuman she plays. Must be what those caped douchebags feel when they beat a mugger to a pulp. Not wanting to spoil Harley's perfect moment. She simply runs two tender hands over the length of her convulsing body. Only because the occasion calls for it.
Feet kick the bedposts. Bucking on the bed with hyperactive spasms of excitement, Slapping the bedsheets, making her partner tremble on her knees. Despite the storm outside her screams and exclamations are not lost on Ivy who for once ignores the sound of nature's wrath outside.
Ivy tugs her gluey hand out as the urgent throbbing ebbs. Waiting until Harley’s exhalations stop. Feeling a Goddess, a thousand feet tall with pride and satisfaction. A deep well of gratitude at Harley’s honest reactions. Who leans into the endorphins, the spasms, the excitement expressing every trace of how good Ivy's just made her feel. For the first time Ivy's appreciative of that. She makes it all look worth it.
Envious of what Harley gets to feel. Bubbling over with life, laughter, lust. Invincible in this moment!
Wearing the same kinda cheesy rictus grin kinda grin she’d last seen on Joker gas victims Quinn draws in a huge breath, fighting past pulsing lungs.
“Holy hell! Ahahahaha! Ya sooooo worth tha wait!” aftershocks like sexy acupuncture. Yet so cosy she could fall asleep if she wasn't riding a massive high. “Ma hero!” Quickly kissing Ivy on the lips who backs off, looking sheepish after all that gratitude. Astute even when her limbs are limp as jelly Harley ponders Mmm wonder who needed this more?
Left with a warm fuzzy sensation in her belly like mulled wine. Slowly rubbing a hand over it savouring the lingering pleasure. A bond between them grows thanks to her welcome climax. Filled with nothing but pure, positive vibes. I feel incredible! I am incredible! Ivy's incredible! So beautiful! So tall and skinny like a runner bean! What a night! I feel friggin amazing! Reminiscent of Harleen's first gay experience in college, in that it's an eye opener. Just like then fun new options unfold in front of her like balls of yarn. She feels this too, right? Taking a breather to let wash over her. What a comedown! What a high! As the last few hiccups leave, she finds it in her to forgive Ivy. This is our real first time together!
“C’mere n Kiss me Red!” she demands before her afterglow fades. Seeking a perfect finish to round one. Ivy obliges and shares a long-wet kiss, welcome tongues rolling. Before reaching out, Quinn gulping both Ivy and herself down.
Breaking the kiss with “I’m glad I came out tonight.” Before lying beside her partner, still ashamed of her actions last time, not wanting to be reminded of anything that connects her to Pamela. Success should neutralise that night now they can move on. Grateful that Quinn hasn't mentioned it once, doing Pam a favour and allowing her to be who she wants to be.
“I'm glad I came too!” Harley laughs
The storm has passed. Light rain softly patters the windows. Mission complete, debt paid, Ivy gets up in half a mind to shower. covered in dried spit, sweat and cum. softer spots stinging with bite marks, jaw aching reminding her it's gonna be sore tomorrow. Free to leave, guilt no longer keeping her here, stress extinguished. I should shower and slip out. Straightening her unkempt shirt for the long cold trek to the bathroom. When the bedside display catches her eye. Having gone unnoticed in their earlier passionate haze.
Brightly coloured sex toys, dildos, vibrators and more taking pride of place on the shelf next to the bed. Harley has no shame in being herself, enjoying the power trip of flaunting her sexuality. How very Typical of Harley's logic: why wouldn't you keep them handy on your bedside table?
Snared. Once again reminded of and fascinated by Harley's freedom. Envy replacing joy. A nagging sensation in her head, it's only fair that she should let Harley have her turn. And yet… I'm far from bored with her. Taking the mantra What would Harley do? To heart, if it works for her… Dammit it better work for me! Manifesting Pamela's all too human desires through Ivy's aloof aura.
Examining the stockpile like a bored socialite or an unimpressed teacher. Casting an eye at it, brow cocked. Brushing her fingers across the “armoury.” Quinn’s most organised collection.
Her actual weaponry, from guns to grenades, is stuffed into makeshift holsters from umbrella stands, gym bags and hanging from coat racks. While her clothing collection is stuffed into a huge wardrobe, doors burst wide, spewing rainbows of disguises, casual wear and knee pads into more boxes, hangers and loose mounds. Harley's red and black motif is obvious even to Ivy's untrained eye. But she also has bright business suits, black ball gowns and evening dresses. More fashion than Pamela’s ever seen!
Narrowing her eyes, as if making up her mind, yet plans are already set in stone. Feeling her clit throb at the mere thought. Deciding which one she wants, liking the look of its tuber-like tip.
“Why don't we try waking your neighbours?” she riffs, pointing to a ribbed curving thing with a harness that has more in common with marrows than any of the discreet dildos Pamela used.
“What neighbours?” She laughs. Before agreeing “OK Red…. let's get it on!”
Bella had never been so open and clear about what she wanted. Reminded of how often she’d been on the receiving end more than enough times. Ivy seizes it, securing it tight while Harley's beaming grin reaches her ears. Lying posed on her side, waiting. After some time spent fiddling with the buckles, Ivy turns, showing off!
Shirt hanging open over her body, breasts half exposed, that wealth of ruby hair hanging down behind like Superman’s cape, smirk sneaking onto her face,
Nipple's stiff from the arousal coursing through her. Excitement manifesting physically; it's all she can do to stop her knees from trembling. Looking and feeling equal parts goddess and conqueror!
Gawping, she claps. “Suits ya Red!” the strap a curved arrow, Ivy's cheap prison issue shirt as kinky as a kimono. Gawd! She looks so darn cute like that! Rolling over onto her back for Ivy. Getting on her knees. Bracing her palms on the wall. Expecting a hard fuck, getting her back blown out. Ivy’s hard eyes and commanding tone promise things that make the ex-sidekick gooey between the legs. Ready and waiting.
Fortified by the accessory. Ivy recalls how Bella used to do things. Grabbing the nearby bottle, squirting some lube into her palm and sliding it up and down the toy till it reflects back at her. The excess getting slathered over the tip. “I don't think we need much more lubrication Red.” Harley’s already saturated, raring to go. Seeping as she speaks.
It may as well be a sword sheathed on her hips for the power it gives her. A comforting weight on her sex, she can feel Harley tremble as she touches it to her lips and feel the tightness as she pushes deeper inside her. Something fingers just aren't long enough for. But vines might be…
A green hand runs up bare neck stubble following how it seamlessly merges with her locks. Ruffling, leaving it standing on end as if electrified! Giving the blonde puppy dog eyes. Ivy studies Harley’s bareback, really seeing it. Shoulder blades sharp as shivs. Pale skin glossy with cold sweat. Whether she's flexing for her, or those contractions are just down to the position. It doesn't matter. Her back is incredible! Ivy's given pause. Mouth open. Running a green finger up the dip of her spine, as if teasing. Nails finding purchase in the soft dimples above a toned rear that's waving suggestively. She's so amazingly fit! Still an Olympic level! How the hell’d she keep that up in Arkham!
On all fours, Harley frowns “Ya better not be thinking bout sticking that someplace too naughty! At least not tonight anyway! I got some standards ya know!” Expectant bracing and demanding nothing less than a hard pounding. The good kind of roughhousing that will put those wannabe thugs' efforts to shame. Harley trusts her this time. Ready to be taken the same way HE used to, yet in spite of it all Ivy actually cares deeply for her pleasure. No matter how much she tries to hide it. Unsure of what she's going to do with her. Uncertainty only makes it more thrilling. Delay building anticipation of adventure. Ivy's confusion is so cute!
Ivy's awe broken. Blossoming empathy withers once more, envious of Quinn, her beauty, her fitness, her joy. Her blindness to the cruelty of this city, this life, our lives. Ivy cannot hurt her again but she can fuck her hard enough to rock the foundations of her world. Show her how powerful Poison Ivy can be. Replace that scared little scientist in Harley's memory. A lot more at ease with this on, looming over Quinn in the shadows, than fighting.
Ivy runs her hands over the smooth planes of Harley’s back as if to show her that those scars don't bother her. Nor the fresh crop of bruises from the night's battle. The brawler had been hurt more than she'd let on. Blue and brown patches spot up her shoulder and sides. Shrugging off the kind of beating that should have had her sluggish and sleeping it off. Instead, Ivy watches steel muscles clenching. Reminded once more, how Harley's trauma has only made her stronger.
Ivy can't let the former moll get too complacent, she spanks her rump, getting bolder. Hoping she doesn’t shrink away. Instead, Harley giggles in welcome surprise. Waving her rear as best she can, welcoming the stimulation. Feeling awkward Pam slows; This aint me. She'd never been one for spanking nor had her exes. Tiring of this position that makes Quinn harder to read, missing their kissing. Grabbing her ankles, dragging her down the bed. “Roll over'' she commands in monotone as Ivy, an edict from above, eyes a glow. Telling herself Quinn’ll like it more this way
Glad Ivy's changed her mind. Bored of that position anyway, Joker often took her from the rear bent over something. New orders only confirm Dr Quinzel’s profiling. She can't stay detached. She can't just use me. Maybe that's a woman thing. Then recalling her night with Selina- Nah! Guess it's just a hero thing. So, for once Harley complies with authority “Yes mistress!”
“You're mine now Quinn.” And with that she pushes in. Slow and deliberate all the way. Lighting her up. Feeling the pressure as it pushes past her lower lips, filling her, silencing that screaming need. Squirming Harley takes it well, used to penetration and still feeling orgasmic.
Elven beauty drawing back leaving Quinn wanting more than a taste, a new need for Ivy to fill her is born. Ivy bites her lip waiting for moans to peter out before sliding back in easier. Watching her muscular planes clenching like knuckles as she jabs at her. Showing how she feels, expressing herself more physically. Burning off tension, feeling it lifting, hard to focus on grudges or injustices when working up a sweat. Hard and slow at first, confident motions promising harsher entries soon.
“Faster Ives! I know ya got it in ya!” The hookups all the better for having got to know the Super villainess. A hero despite all appearances, Ivys got more trouble with split Identity than Two Face! There's the woman who hurt her. The woman who's fucking her. And the woman who she hurt long ago in a time in a past life she thought she'd escaped from, evidence of who she had been. A deep shame that cuts her when Ivy brings it up. Happy to be making things right as best she can, hoping to see Red crack a smile, absolve her in her own way.
The gymnast utilises her talents wrapping her legs round the scientist's waist. Ya not going anywhere! In response the older woman takes things up a notch. Thrusting faster, aware of Quinn’s tight grip both inescapable and supporting her. Allowing her to make pumps that should knock her off balance. Forgetting her exhaustion. Harley was right! God this is cathartic!
Each bump from that hard mound is a kiss, closing her eyes listening to each hard slap as that toy mound connects with her own. Getting tossed around in a storm of her own making. Opening her eyes as the botanist reaches Quinn’s tempo. Watching how she arches her back pushing her belly out, using her diaphragm. using me like a friggin stress ball! But that's kinda friggin hot!
Eyes closing in anguish, letting Ivy's waves wash over her. Clit crying out for stimulation, she reaches down to rub away its ache. Fingers brushing Ivy's who got the same idea. The Scientist shoos away those nimble digits. I’ve got this! Touching Harley’s clit, finding it hard as a peppercorn. Flicking the precious bead, with a chiding finger.
Ivy had aimed to fuck till that infamous eyeshadow runs in streaks. Now learning she's got eyes bigger than her stomach. Yet Isley’s conscience compels her, redoubling her efforts, snorting breath matching her partners. Looking to secure her position, finding the ex-clown too slick to grip, there's only the bright buns to tug, otherwise Quinn's hair is neater than her own frizz. Gymnast relishing the rough grip, dilated pupils gazing up in wonder. Having faith that this is how Ivy'll take her over the line!
Lightning cracks outside as Quinn gathers handfuls of the sheets in preparation. I’m gonna need em. Because Poison Ivy is here! The superwoman from the news. The merciless succubus. Whose silver tongue wriggles inside man’s greatest citadels. Whose mere presence reduces lesser men to jelly. The ruthless man eater who makes shareholders sign away their stocks to Greenpeace. Harley has not been this turned on since Selina. Ivy looks every bit the powerful villain. Magical green glow ringing dilated pupils. Can she control that or is it a reaction to emotional stimuli?
Ivys doing her best to act like a seasoned pro, unused to fucking this way. Standing tall and distant. Shirt tails flapping as sweat patches stain the back and pits. Copper waves of hair rippling. Trying to disguise heavy panting with aggressive grunts. Not letting Quinn see how much exertion she's putting in. Fearing she's bitten off more than she chew, Ivy is conscious of every hump. Focusing on the game of seeing who can keep it up longer, Ivy's burning thighs, or the cramping Quinn.
From above her pale breasts flatten to her chest yet still heave in time with Ivy. Nipple's rigid through it all, Harley lets Ivy move her. Holding on to her mistress. Lifting her legs onto Ivy's shoulders. Happy to have a lover who will indulge her experimental whims! Ives brought her A game tonight!
With guttural barks Bud and Lou suddenly wake up! Mistaking Harley’s yelps and cries for distress. Annoyed Ivy whips round without stopping, rolling her eyes, sighing deeply as they howl and laugh along like a baying audience. Then realising it's a captive audience who will keep her secrets. Sex as public as she dares! Accepting the chaos as Harley does. Snickering along too now even in her breathless state. Throwing her head back, possessed, lost in the moment pumping away. Rocking on her soles. Unrecognisable even unto herself. Finding a second wind.
Pressing a hand on that bleached belly for stability and with a sudden thought applying pressure on her abs. Grinding her palm in, squeezing her kegels tight underneath. Concentrating Harley's pleasure. Ivy may as well have touched a taser to her G-spot. Electric jolts sizzle along the branches of her clitoris. Jumpstarting Harley off the bed, the dumbfounded look on her face giving away that was totally involuntary. Face warms with pleasure, eyes wet, looking to Ivy in awe and admiration. Where'd ya learn that one?
Restless, Harley shifts her gaze, looking to her mirror. Peeking at their profile. Watching the way Ivy bumps, putting her back into it. Giggling at the sight of her clenched jaw and determined expression. Why so serious Ives? Ivy grabs her fingers in her cheeks, gripping her jaw, twisting her face back. Saying All eyes on me. Harley complies. Locking her gaze with those deep green wells. Shirt tails flapping over her bare green ass, poorly covering the indecent act she performs on Harley in front of Bud and Lou who begin to whine playfully at mom’s helpless fits. On their hind legs, paws scrabbling the bars, confused by her cries.
Good going Ives! Those two can sleep through anything! Mm Quinn’s toes curl on Ivy's shoulders. Balls of her feet rubbing shoulders, toes unconsciously toying with errant strands of Ivy's hair as she ploughs on.
Even plain ole vanilla missionary is hot when it’s Ivy on top! Joker lacked her passion. Tenfold. There's something intense in those feral green eyes. She's got something to prove. Harley saw her out of breath and flagging in the night's battle. Here she seems to have found her energy.
Getting more formidable every second she doesn't succumb. It's the Harley Quinn beneath her! But that no longer matters, for Pam the public perception of Quinn has been shattered forever. Amused that I get to know her better than anyone now. Learning how much she's suffered too. Holding these precious secrets turns her on, though the base of the strap rubbing her clit does a better job keeping her on edge. Rubbing away at her form as she buries the toy deep inside Quinn. Flagging now, slumping so Quinn rises to meet her, putting all her weight on her ass, propping herself up on her hands getting close to Ivy. Smearing their lips in a crude embrace. Before falling back, still wanting her close, greedily tugging on shirt hems.
“Why dontcha play with my boobs?” She invites, not orders. Ivy indulges, giving the playful psychiatrist the chance to play with hers too, fascinated by more than just breasts, explores, Multicoloured nails gleaming like jewels. Raking her chest. Hands scampering all over feral as her hyenas. Scratching at her soft belly, gifting her some graze marks, catching her navel. Tickling under her breasts. Softer greener stomach a source of great titillation for both, distracting Pamela from the lactic acid building in her thighs. Twitching legs, keen to give in. Goddamn her Olympic stamina!
Gymnast bunching the sheets again in theatrics, enduring the aches and the tight begging cramps just a little longer… Then one more application pressure from Ivy's palm hits like a defib. Compressing the inner arms of her clit. Shrinking into her body, hit with one last sizzling cramp that’s Sooooo worth it!
Before bursting! Eyes screwed shut. Baring gums and perfect white teeth like the hyenas who are howling alongside her. Feet curling against the bedposts.
Clutching Ivy tight before balling up handfuls of the sheets. “Oh gawd!” eyes rolling back. Breathless, squeezing laughter past palpitating lungs. Like she's banged her funny bone. Sailing way past her limits, breaking them and finding all new ones.
Sheets a tangled nest, pillows knocked to the floor, lethal brawler and infamous criminal now melting in the warm bed like a pad of butter. Legs cramping, arms like jelly full of pins and needles, giggling innocently. Basking in Ivy’s heat, instead of attempting to get up. Thinking Whoa! What a change from last time! That was like adventure and intimacy all in one! That felt… real.
“Holy hell! Red I think ya knocked something loose!” Quinn kids. She's working through some shit that's fa sure. Quinn giggles looking down at her sweaty body Ya don't have to go that far!
“Oh, uh thanks” Ivys scratches the back of her neck.
“Gawd! Been a while since someone could keep up with me. Nice going Ives! We’ll make an Olympian of ya yet!” Beaming like an idiot, Ivy takes the strap off, unsure of her next move, only knowing she doesn't want it in the way of the two of them.
“Swapsies!” Quinn insists, vaulting up on springs, reaching for the strap. Not quite ready to relinquish everything Ivy holds it just out of reach, swallowing her protests in a kiss. Disarming Quinn who shrugs, it can wait. Folding into that wet embrace. Bud and Lou settle back down, understanding now it's just play-fighting between mom and her new mate.
“Aww no fair. When's it gonna be my go?” Quinn whines. Acting amused but she's hurting inside . There's still something she's not sharing. I won't forget to press this later.
Dizzy Ivy's thighs burn with proud cramps so she hops into bed. Assuming Quinn feels them twice as much. Hoping she's still in the mood for games. “Tough. Guess you'll have to make do with your bare hands.” agreeing to more on a whim, surprising herself but it's only fair she gets her go.
“I ain't going anywhere till I got green fingers!” Harley vows.
“Then come get me.” Ivy dares, ad-libbing. Red slashes of soaked hair hiding the energy in her eyes. “If you can” Acting as immature as she ever had in sex. More wild Fauna than Flora!
Harley wants to make this extra special; she's worth it.
“Buckle up Ives! I want ya in the swing!” Pam pauses, nervous about falling or relying on Quinn. “Ya ever used one of these before?”
“Of course!” She scoffs, lying. “Then ya know ya need ta get au naturel!” she holds out her hand beckoning. Ivy kneels and Quinn takes her shirt and drops it off the side of the bed. Completely nude, a sudden chill runs down Ivy’s bare green back, feeling lost and very vulnerable. Risks weighing down on her, no costume, no more than a forty-year-old ex-con in bed with the most infamous woman in Gotham. Telling herself if Quinn could lead her through the damn warehouse gauntlet and over the ice safe and sound then nothing bad is going to happen here.
Quinn helps her clamber in strapping leather loops tight. Wobbling Pam’s already hanging on for dear life and her ride hasn't even begun yet. She can't escape irrational fears of falling or getting tangled but Quinn’s bed is right beneath her. The hammock has her safe, leather squeaking as she shifts. Harley locks her feet in place. “Relax Ives I've got you” thinking Ya liar! Limp like Harley’s toy doll, green legs dangling. Loose hair touching the bed. Feeling safer with Quinn even in a cheap toy No doubt made in some sweatshop. Quinn brushes all Ivy's hair clear, away from the harness. “Ya good to go!” she slaps a thigh sending Ivy into nervous trembles. Before kneeling poised inside her legs. Ivy chews her lip feeling like a fool. No backing out now. Taking Quinn's chin in her hands and staring silently, eyes burning with desire, lips wetted as if wanting to say something. Moment passing, she lets her go. Harley pores over the Goddesses green perfection suspended above her bed. The fact it's the infamous Poison Ivy matters not, it’s all about that nameless woman who still hides herself from her. Mind boggling. ”Ives babe Gawd! ya so freakin hot!” Quinn shakes her head in awe. No idea where to start! Moving on impulse instead. A cting first. silently asking for approval afterwards. Locking eyes. Not wasting time asking for what she likes, guessing how Ivy likes things, based on the softer softs on herself that Ivy visited first. Finding her assessments accurate from the way Ivy's breathless cries dance on the edge of pain. wavering with honest overwhelming feeling. Delighting herself in leaving bold lipstick marks all over Ivy's pristine body. Tagging her. Noticing traces of dark freckles not yet lost to her chlorophyll-stained skin as the athlete swoops low over her emerald flesh. Mapping the verdant woman, moving on a whim, climbing high lips nestling in the alley of her nape.
“Ya like it when I kiss ya neck? Dontcha?” Ivy's contented sighs are answer enough. head jerking back, feet twisting in their loops expressing her mood. Keeping her pinned with smooches to each breast in a random pattern. Taking a bud between her lips, Feeling the nipple patiently stiffen in arousal. Sucking intently, learning their texture, making it count. Ivy’s impressed by how sacred Quinn makes this, underestimating Harley again, half hoping for something pathetic amateurish foreplay so she could write her off. Not seeing her tongue but she sure can feel it! She's crude but really efficient!
Repeating this reverent duty on the other, finishing with a friendly tug between her teeth. Soon rising up, hair in rainbow streaks of gold, blue and red. Looking giddy as though drunk from sucking on her tit. Checking Ivy's reactions. That glazed expression gives her free reign. Taking it and kissing into Ivy's navel. A smooch pressed to the tender knot of flesh within. Richly rewarded with a tight gasp. Hard to kiss any deeper so she uses the tip of her tongue flicking at it like another clitoris, earning a breathy moan. Both having fun so Harley lingers, lapping at her belly button, but moving quickly so Red stays stimulated. The scientist is normally so controlled yet tonight reduced to quivering green jelly.
The tactile bisexual expresses herself at every opportunity. Never allowing her lovers to forget she's the Harley Quinn! If you can’t take control of her, she’ll lead you astray indulging her own vices. In this case that’s nibbling Ivy's thighs leaving a looping trail of marks.
Arriving at and admiring Ivy's pussy. All the cuter for the mane that surrounds it. So fricking cute! Like a lil flower, well not so little. Beads of moisture glisten caught in its fine red hair. Heavy with humidity. Evidence! Reds soaking wet and horny as hell! Admiring Ivy’s well engorged green bean, she's been waiting all night. Too busy tending to Harley's needs with a gardener's patience. She’s selfless! A friggin martyr!
Smacking her lips at the sight, their gloss long ago mixed into a purple smear from an incessant Ivy. Looking like she's been gorging blackberries. The redhead may be superhuman but that's not where the thrill of sex is, to Quinn. Ivy ain't just a novelty. It's about extracting some joy made all the more precious by her usual sour exterior. Seeing her true self shine through in the heat of orgasm. It's about playing messy games and having fun together in the nude. Peeling back those layers and learning who the mystery woman really is.
Feeling the heat wafting of that rust-coloured rainforest. Judging her soaking snatch as ready. Quinn dives right into Ivy’s core. Closing the gap, with one easy movement. Treating herself to a long lick up the inner flesh spreading those lips with two fingers. Finding Pamela’s petals pink and tender on the inside. Meta and human merging in orchid patterns.
Nose wrinkling, inhaling a rich scent as complex as she is. Maple. Salty. Earthy. Comforting smells. Like the seaside! Harleys at home! Delving her tongue just inside Ivy's honeypot. Sampling her partner. Regular pussys got nothing on Ivy! Who's like that first perfect bite into a peach, the slightest pressure on hairy flesh sending warm juices exploding, filling Harley’s mouth with refreshing nectar.
Ivy groans in exasperation and gently gives Quinn’s head an impatient push inward. Silently pleading Get on with it! Gritting her teeth from wasted stimulation.
“Sorry Ives. I do like ta play with ma food” Having had her fill of chaos, Quinn gets onto the fun part. Starting as gently as she dares, yet still sending shocking thrills up Ivy's spine. Wild sensations she doesn't know how to process or what to do with. Ivys used to living in her head, Harley gives no quarter, leaving no way to retreat there. Soon all awareness is centred on her crotch, plans, worries, science projects all forgotten. For once not brooding or overthinking. She can't think at all! Harley has trapped her. She can't even look away in this contraption. Harley's her whole world till she's done with her. It takes everything Ivy has to even raise herself to look at her, But she's better than the ceiling.
Quinn multitasks, pinching nipples, tweaking them, keeping Ivy entertained. Crude yet direct. Finding Ivy’s clit already rock hard against her tongue. Haha ladyboner! More fun to lick than ever. Flicking purposefully, Ivy shakes all around her. The master criminal steals her breath away. Legs trembling weakly at the welcome dabs to her clit. To Dr Quinzel sex is more of an art form than science.
Instinctive stroking matching Ivy's rhythm. Who grips on the straps of the suspended harness. Winding them around her hands. Staggered breaths, cut short by deft swipes of a clever tongue. Sighing deep in ecstasy. Pinned yet relaxing into it. OK maybe I've earned a break.
The ex-psychiatrist puts her back into it, rocking the suspended Ecoterrorist. Bobbles brushing thighs. Green hands drawn to that vibrant hair with its neat parting down the centre for her “tactical” buns . Sneakily stroking them. Harley prefers being active between someone's legs. Lapping at wet folds, flicking her tongue at a receptive clit, slipping a finger into a cosy snatch and hearing her partner giggle. Way more fun than being eaten out herself. She was never one for sitting still.
Ivy lets out an animal groan of satisfaction unlike anything she normally allows herself, too caught up to even clasp a hand to her mouth. Sex with Bella had been more intimate yet more controlling. Bella the initiator and on top most of the time. The best she'd ever known prior. Reassuring to know that Harley's already better. Pale hands distressing her hair. Rubbing her temples, soothing a head fit to burst. Bella was more demanding, no room for experimentation, doing things in her own time. Whereas right or wrong, Harley is just undeniably fun!
Harley pushes on, those pangs of approval music to her ears, checking up on her partner’s slowly softening face. Licking all the way up her taint, tweaking the clit. shuddering on the end of her tongue Ivy discovers just what a tease Harley can be. Wishing she could grab a pillow. But Harley’s become the only person in her universe. Normally by now she'd be banging her head or screaming into a pillow. But Harley gives her no quarter, no timeouts. Heart in her mouth Ivy can’t talk, she can't advise, she doesn't need to.
Harley recalls their last encounter, knowing Ivy's golden rhythm. When it comes to it, she can keep pace. All that athletics training on balance and poise comes in handy. Tongue lapping rhythmically at Ivy's seam who twitches weakly unready for Harley’s regularity. Who's doting on her, head at an angle resting on a green thigh, red pubic hair tickling her nose as she breathes through it. Mouth far too busy.
Depending on Harley trust building alongside her climax. Learning for once it's ok to let others do things for you. To be pampered. Guilt and anxiety all melt away and drain out of her sweating face or salivating cunt. Which is screaming for some fingers inside it. Yearning to be filled. Fidgeting. Grabbing the straps, fingers clenching tight.
As if waiting for that one pained thrash Harley pops one digit inside Ivy’s lubricated snatch, Pamela’s response pops out her mouth “Oh god!” Clearly Ivy’s no stranger to a finger or two. But Quinn judges by Ivy's heaving chest that she'll handle another sudden insertion. Double trouble!
“Buck those sexy hips fa me.” Quinn encourages. Improvising mid coitus. Ivy complies as best she can. Rendered limp yet by the sensation spreading from her core. Sticky thighs grind into Quinn’s mouth making it a team effort. Wearing down her resolve she can’t deny the pressure that's building within for much longer. Ivy wrestles internally with the bubble inflating inside her. Still dreaming of outlasting Harley. Willing herself to impress. Pride keeps her from just surrendering to the impulses screaming at her. Daring herself onward, just how far can we go? Punishing herself. Gnawing a lip, damp red strands of hair glued to a sweating green face,
Risking no more chatter now. Nose to pelvis, somehow grinning through it all Harley continues smothering the touch starved beauty. For once Ivy finds utmost focus from the bright-eyed Quinn. Clearly having fun yet this is the most serious Ivy's ever seen her. Nothing but Ivy's pleas are going to tear Harleen away, especially judging by how tight her nails are digging into her thighs.
“Don't you dare stop!” she orders unnecessarily in a pained moan. Gritting her teeth. As if! Quinn rolls her eyes, not when Ivy’s clits this erect, hard as a cherry pit. Impulsive Quinn’s incapable of not fiddling with it. Relishing the chance to caress that warm bead with the flesh of her tongue, coating it in shared drool. As good for her as it is for Ivy.
Orgasm nestling under her brain. Ivy's freely gushing into that patient mouth now. Releasing endless pulp for Harley to swallow down. The sweet sidekick, a sticky mess. Face, hair and chin stained with secretions. Gooey strands connecting her lips to Ivy’s who’d normally be ashamed of making such a mess, but is currently too busy hissing tight with pleasure, boiling inside and out. Urgent green fingers scramble for purchase on Harley’s toned back muscles, never more defined as the athlete exerts herself. Heart pounding, sweating into the leather. Sticking to the straps. Lolling her head back skyward as another groan escapes like a bubble bursting. “Oh Goddd!” Unused to such effort! Thralls were no more than masturbation reflected. It's been a while.
Looking right through Harley as she sinks back down. Warning signs sail by. Ivy hugs the blonde's head tighter, deeper as she tumbles down past the point of no return. Hungry for as much contact as possible. Trusting Harley. Knowing she'll never be as cruel as she was. Already delivering beyond expectations. Mouth frozen in a wide O.
Before Ivy can ask, Quinn casually slips another finger inside, t hose nails despite their smudged paint were clipped short and smooth precisely for this purpose. Shooting Ivy out her skin. Inflicting pleasure upon her. Three fingers curl and pluck at her weakness, playing her heartstrings. Tongue still dabbing away at her softest point. Before she can even mentally prepare Ivy's shrieking “Oh Goddddd!” and tumbling into orgasmic bliss.
Sharing that zipline with Harley, taking one more thrilling ride. Beautiful chaos unfurls, branching out within. Gossamer vines of pleasure taking root. Strangling her words in the throat. Covering Ivy with the warm prickles of sunbathing. Warmth like all the spa luxuries she denies herself. Crying out, wailing openly. Mouth agape. Eyes shut. A few tears escape. Safe and free here to show the full range of her pleasure, Letting go. Rocking from side to side. Yelling “Oh God Harleyyyyy!” as if she’s gone too far.
Thrashing in Harley’s web, able to stretch out, arch her back, Rolling her head back till the base touches her shoulder blades. Allowing her orgasm, a clear path throughout her body. Familiar power coursing through. Primal screams, eyes wide yet seeing nothing of the upside-down room. Floating above the city as she cums. Cackling, upon feeling it tickle her even in that personal place where she and the green meet. A vast space, a gulf within where Meta meets boring human. That extra special part of her. That even she doesn't fully understand. Growth halted as she peaks. A yearning for more takes root. Forgetting that when she opens her eyes finding her vision wet and blurry and tears streaking down her cheeks. Miffed that she’s one who ended up crying, but permitting it, that was intense! Amiable as ever Quinn makes no critique of Ivy's weeping. Though inside deeply proud of bringing her to tears with just her tongue.
Upon wilting in a tangle. In this moment she could keep coming back for more of this forever. Mind not foggy with ecstasy instead sharp with clarity. Seeing the world through Harley's optimistic eyes for a moment. Relaxing into the swing like a cosy hammock. Leaking her sap out of a still twitching pussy. Trembling far too much to move. Body racked with tremors. Suddenly Quinn’s there, lowering her safely onto the bed. Undoing the straps. Limp she flops into bed.
“Ya sure don't taste like poison.” Harley grins. Mouth covered in escaped pleasure; certain Ivy can hear her now. Who goes to laugh, throat dry and sore, breathless. Reminiscent of the mild asthma she’d had before she died. Thinking quickly Harley rushes over and fetches some water. Ivy drains the whole glass. dribbling down her chin and hands back to Quinn. Looking less than dignified now. And all the more beautiful for it in Quinn's eyes. But clearly exhausted. Harley only now remembers Oh yeah, she's older than me “Ya all good Red?”
By way of answer a blissful Ivy seizes Quinn, before the aftershocks fade, before the haze of passion clears, before reality sets in. Sharing a long slow kiss, draping tongue over tongue. Synchronised like they'd never been before. Mmm thinks Harley smooching back Why can't we be like this all tha time?
Pamela is not attempting to impress, just needily stealing the last taste of her orgasm. The message is plain. Internal desire boiling up and over her. All that matters is connecting with those lips as though they hold all the sunlight and oxygen she’ll ever need. She's never felt so weak and so safe. Trusting in Harley. anything that's happened to her or will happen outside the present is forgotten. For a brief window Ivy lets go, taking what she craves without guilt or thought or justification.
Savouring the kiss before recriminations catch up with her. Self-control withering. Why shouldn't I fuck her one more time?
No thrall could ever kiss like this. They kissed like brainless teenagers. All lust and no skill. Kept around only to simply mechanically service her, nothing more. Maybe sometimes you have to risk yourself for things like this? To touch the sun, you might get burned. Harley keeps up with Ivy's insane pace. Truly partners in this.
Quinn’s clasps Ivy's cheek with tender meaning. Delighted to still be craved post orgasm. Glad neither Ivy nor her desire have fled. In fact, in this interlude, she's more intimate than ever! Giving as good as she gets. Leaping into the fray with the same passion and exploding hunger that she always has after escaping prison. But it's been many months and a couple of fucks since she busted out of Belle Reve. Happy to kiss for as long as Ivy wants. Impossible ta get bored of this!
Neither sure who's taking the lead this time, only certain of the only way this kiss can end. Aside from the vague notion of wanting to use that swing again Ivy’s head is mercifully emptied, no more plans just pouting lips ready to receive Harley's own. Tongue poised to curl tight around Quinn’s.
Indeed, the long embrace sends them down the rapids back to another bout of impromptu, improvised sex. Afterwards not so much sleeping as passing out, together as a new dawn breaks over the Gotham Skyline.
Notes:
I split this draft in half so next chapter is the morning after. then we move onto a lot more plot.
More characters will be getting added next.
These will be the Last chapters for a little while as I have exams. the more people who show interest the more I can prioritize this one when I return.
I would really appreciate some feedback as a birthday present for mine is coming up this very week!
thank you!
Chapter 7: Salad days
Summary:
Harley and Ivy wake up the morning after sleeping together and their daily routine unfolds from there. Dialogue heavy.
Notes:
This could be my most controversial chapter yet. But I am sticking with it. Had to split this one in two again but it's still normal length. Had to rewrite a lot of it too so it took longer but chapter 8 should come up faster, she says...
anyway I did publish another fic in this time.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
11.45am -13/04/2022
Harley wakes from sweet dreams. Reluctantly peeling herself out of a cosy snuggle. Yawning, stretching arms wide. Tiptoeing to the window still stark naked, Birds are tweeting. Warm sun peeks between skyscrapers, the roads are momentarily silent. It's as if the ice they broke last night was the last of winter. Spring has truly sprung. It's a new day for all of us! Spring always fills her with hope. In Arkham and Belle Reve weeks blurred together, while as a freelancer, nights are days and time is simply measured in one contract to the next, from casing the joint to fencing the loot. Always allowing herself a few self-care days and me-time after a well-done raid. It's a beautiful day, filled with opportunity. Looking fondly at the special someone slumbering in her bed, red hair sprawled all around her snoring face buried in a drool-stained pillow. Sleeping beauty. Doctor Quinzel prescribes ya some quality bed rest.
Looking so peaceful, she lets her lie in. Then it hits her. She stayed! Harley, having assumed she’d slip away before dawn like Selina does. Silently rejoicing, bouncing on the balls of her feet, giddy with excitement. That can only mean this is more than a two-time thing! Don't screw this up Quinn! Smiling already and daydreaming, while skipping silently across the cold floor. L ooking for her own clothes instead finding Ivy's shirt, picking it up off the dirty floor. Giving it an impulsive sniff, inhaling Ivy's comforting scent, also getting the odour of mud mixed with the salty tang of sweat and rain. I oughta give it a wash for her, she's been living in it. It's chilly in the open plan lair with its knocked through walls and a long way to the washing machine. So, she impulsively tries the thing on for size, waste not, want not . Wriggling inside, it's way too big for her. Not bothering with all those buttons. That rough government issue fabric brings back memories of their Arkham accommodations. This would have been all the comfort and warmth Ivy would get in her cell. Maybe she's more sentimental than I thought.
The prison shirt is still a little sticky with heavy patches of last night's sweat and more. Well, we both are. Getting distracted by pitiful low keening from Bud and Lou’s cage. They’re awake and drooling for a late breakfast. Harley is drawn to her kitchenette and starts opening cabinets, getting things ready. Breakfast in bed for all four of us! We can chill out. We got loads ta be proud of. A new job will come her way later through any underworld gossip that takes her fancy. Or she might put something together herself, like breaking all the windows in the Jewellers district or towing off every GCPD squad car for scrap. Imagining Ivy has a similar routine. Prospects for unfurling before her. Cosy inside the big shirt like a red blanket or a cape! Cooking in the nude always adds a spark to her daily chores. Wiggling her toes on the carpet. Half dancing as the buzz runs through her body. No need to wake and bake today.
Deep and dreamless, Ivy hasn't slept this well in years. Her subconscious-self had curled against the other woman, whose cosy presence made it easy to forget about the passage of time. Sinking only deeper when the bed is empty, body needing more rest, saying it's been too long since she has allowed herself such luxury. Too many nights working feverishly on science projects or stalking her targets. Exhausted not that she’d admit it. Drooling into the cosy pillow with a loud sigh. Half awake, the notion maybe I do deserve a morning off slips past her infamously vigilant self-control. Contented snuggling further in. Napping peacefully until… A wet tearing sound shocks her out of slumber.
“Huh!?” She asks, hair tangled in her face she lifts herself out the mound of unfamiliar pillows.
“Oh? Rise and Shine Sleepy Red!”
Groggy green eyes shoot wide open! Ivy finds herself sprawled naked in Harley Quinn's bed! Looking over to the noise. Finding the infamous blonde greeting her with a genial smile. Shit! Oh goddammit! Crap! Drowsy head rapidly flooding with memories, the warehouse, the chase, their emotional argument, then a night of chaos! The whole sloppy, sordid, careless display from last night drops down on top of her. Now she's miles across town, stuck in someone else's house. Rubbing her bleary eyes, averting her gaze, before staring in shame at the cracked ceiling.
The notion that she’d sought Quinn for this very purpose is forgotten. Not how I wanted it. Conflicted, ashamed of sleeping in, staying over, blurring the lines. More than that, it was losing control, failing, giving away emotions and desires, showing sides of herself she kept locked. Giving in to that winning smile and those bright blue eyes, unable to let her down. The woman who hurt Pam is forgiven, forgotten, Pam getting to know a new Harley, but Ivy hasn’t changed.
Confused and panicked, thus only now noticing Quinn’s wearing Ivy’s own red shirt, intentionally unbuttoned and left wide open! Baggy, it's far too big for Harley yet draped over her shoulders anyway. Acting casual and collected even with both breasts visible, Ivy can't help but look, disgusted with her own still lustful mind and all too human vices. Yet faintly aroused, stimulated by memories of last night. Absent-mindedly gazing at the pale thighs she’d so wilfully nibbled underneath the loose hem. Similar traces of love bites grow in patches around pink nipples too. Harley wearing her post sex messiness on her sleeve along with her heart. That famous cropped hair reduced to a tangle of multicoloured brambles. Blank skin writ gold in the sunlight.
Quinn smiles back oblivious to Pam's mounting shame, shifting the hem in hands, letting it ride back a bit, giving a better view of her nudity, angling hopefully for another bonus bout to start the day. Ivy looks frigging stunning! Green skin gaining a healthy hue in the sunbeams, the healthy hue of a ripe juicy apple. All the more natural with her guard down. Staring back from under her red fringe, that infamous hair frizzy and matted, I did that! Her gaze is not cold or calculating but human but intimate, almost fearful. Harley aches to reach out and clasp her tight, seeing such familiar sadness in her eyes, Pitying and respecting her in equal measure. But she daren’t scare her away. “Sorry to wake ya but the boys have gotten used to good food and they get really cranky without breakfast.”
Horror on her green face. Shame turning to lead in her limbs, cheeks burning with automatic anger directed at herself. Worst of all, upon waking, finding the scream of nature, her hatred of man is briefly gone. It quickly regrew filling her mind with that impatient call to be out working. Her never needing compulsion to fight her battles. But that brief emptiness was vast without that she has no idea what to do with her life, or where to go. Reduced to a ronin, but she's always been empty without an all-consuming goal. A higher purpose that drives her onward. Something to strive towards. Getting into College had kept her sane at home. Now her Crusade is all she has. Shuddering at those few aimless seconds. Sick with guilt at forgetting it momentarily. I was Given these powers for a reason, not to simply fuck strangers. Unable to peel away the idea that last night was giving in and selling out. She’d nearly lost her moral compass. These powers aren't free. Nothing is.
There's no struggle for Harley, things have rarely been more obvious or exciting! There's no reason they can't have sex all day! So, she declares ““I'm glad ya up! I can get some music on!”
“Oh God! What time is it?” Sitting bolt upright instantly.
“Twelve. Why? Ya got somewhere ta be? Tilting her head.
“No.” she mutters brusquely. Looking at the floor, trying to invent some excuse. Running through a million different reasons to leave.
“Same here! I always like ta lie in after a raid. There's no reason to get up early, we've earned a rest and need ta stay outta sight. I'll fix us some breakfast in bed. My treat. Ya earned it. Then how bout we get back to laying low?” She winks. In Quinn's mind there's not one single reason not to climb under warm covers and stay until the sirens die down and then some.
Ivy hasn’t felt less sexy since High school. Plum coloured bruises spread across her body, the hangover toll of last night's fighting writing itself over her body. Bones heavy and long limbs sore, body sticky with dried sweat and worse, tired and already longing for the solace of her lair, curling up in some warm branches and sunbathing till she's better. Despite all that knowing if she doesn’t assert herself soon, she's certain what will inevitably happen.
“Speaking of, I don't know what cha want for breakfast? Do Metahumans need to eat? Course ya do!” she answers her own question “Guess it's more like Brunch now.” shrugging at the midday sun. Standing at the stove tossing a pan wearing nothing but Ivy's costume.
Pamela pauses, looking around the motel in the cold light of day. Hit by the stink of sex in the sheets, in her hair and all over her still nude body. Normally she’d shower straight afterwards. “I'm not hungry.” she dismisses, stomach grumbling.
Glaring out the window. Gotham in the daylight, it has been a while , already irritated at the hassle of getting across town in broad daylight, mentally plotting a route home. The sun glaring off the panes of grimy skyscrapers, sky hazy with pollution. The city is only more offensive in broad daylight. Scratching a neck sore with hickeys. Wishing she could blame this mess on drink, but alcohol does nothing to her anymore. Having thought herself far too mature and self-actualized for shit like this. It's been years since she woke up in someone else's bed. It's bright outside but she can see clouds brewing on the horizon. Along with the distant whine of trawling sirens. Staring down her old adversary whos twenty miles wide and wrought in concrete. Waiting for it to blink.
“Ya sure I can't tempt ya? Ya sure had a hell of an appetite last night!” She teases. “Ah well it's no trouble or nothing. I already got everything cooking. I just served up some fried mince for Bud and Lou.” That explains the slavering ripping noises Ivy’d woken up to. “Now I’m doing fried eggs and bacon fer me washed down with a nice healthy smoothie. Ya sure I can't tempt ya? I'm a mean cook. Joker had me do all the meals” She volunteers. Face darkening “Not like he ever cooked.” Then lightening up with “I must be Michelin level by now, maybe not the only thing I’m five stars at, right?” Angling for praise, feedback and not wanting last night to end for both of them.
Getting nothing but a grunt of agreement. Not what she said last night. “So, anyway I was kinda hoping you'd stay for breakfast” She announces brightly but wielding those bright puppy dog eyes as weapons. “You gotta eat something too, right?” she points with the spatula.
“Well, I- look forgot about it.” Dismissing it, despite being famished, sitting up, messy hair falling in red curls about her head “I’ll get something later.” rubbing heavy eyes, stinking of shame. Trying to ignore the low whispers from her subconscious about good Harleys looking.
“Just some music then?” Harley skips around her kitchen with a spring in her step. Humming to herself. Uplifted. Head full of juicy, new possibilities, plans exploding into life, now that Ivy’s with her. Listening to her yawn and sigh savouring someone else's presence in her draughty old lair. While stirring a sizzling pan with a spatula, until it spits grease and fills the room with the aroma of fried bacon. Hoping to hit the next base by sharing breakfast with her and not just a bed.
Ivy rolls her eyes at the whole display. Cooking in the nude! Of course. Interrupting her daydreams with “Would you mind just giving me my shirt back?” The villainess demands, irate her infamous costume’s been reduced to a mere dressing gown on the shorter woman. A child playing dress up. I see right through you. Entangling our lives faster than knotweed.
Harley pouts, but hands it over. “Aww it's hella cosy, reminds me of Arkham cells. The riots there used to be good fun don't ya think?”
“Look I just don't appreciate you taking my clothes.” She couldn't care less for this old rag; it’s the intimacy she hates. Not wanting to talk about Arkham either. Trying to get ready as fast as possible. Holding her hand out. Would like it if I tried on your-” Ugh she’d probably love it if I tried on her uniform.
“Sorry Red. I didn't know how much it meant to ya” Shrugging it off, slackening, slumping as Ivy hurriedly does it up, deliberately trying not to look at the proud body she'd found so fascinating last night.
Getting chilly, Quinn slips into a fluffy pink dressing gown instead. Hurt seeing how uncomfortable the over familiar gesture had made Ivy. Good thing I didn't mention how she snores too. Slowing, excitement draining. Trying to get back on Ivy's good side Harley does the same thing she did in high school: tell jokes. Bending over to feed Bud and Lou. and announces “Crazy Night! Mmm I guess Ivy does get everywhere” She swings her rear to emphasise her point.
Ivy prays for the earth to swallow her whole. Frozen with everything she’s done hitting her like a truck. God! What was I thinking? Fuming and ignoring her, crossly buttoning up her shirt, cursing halfway through upon realising she’s forgotten something vital. “Have you seen my bra?”
“It's where ya left it. On the-”
“I got it.” Ivy grabs it off the ceiling fan in a huff. Rubbing her brow, sensing the beginnings of a migraine yet she's suffering worse than a hangover. Waking up in a stranger's house on the wrong side of the tracks. Takes her back to her college days, the last time she's really had one-night stands. It had been mainly steady girlfriends since then. I thought I was smarter than this.
Harley does her usual yoga stretches, touching her painted toenails with ease. Part of her morning routine. While Ivy paces, acting cagey. Harley’s seen this behaviour in Bud and Lou that's why they get to roam freely when she doesn't have guests. “Not a morning person huh? Whatsa matter ya already got a girlfriend?” Harley giggles at the thought. Whatever's up with her it aint that.
“No! I-” Ivy refutes sternly. While picking her underpants off the TV screen, Noticing Harley hasn't bothered retrieving any of her own clothes. Slipping back into long dark pants.
“Oh, and watch fer traps if ya go exploring.” Hurriedly adding. “The place is rigged with tripwires.”
“Ugh fine I’ll stay for breakfast.” Rolling her eyes at the risk. Dreading facing the long walk across town on an empty stomach. Accepting the inevitable. In a hurry to get it over with. Collapsing in a chair and crossing her legs.
Quinn’s face lights up, briefly before realising she knows more about Ivy's tastes in bed then her day-to-day life. Despite her prickly exterior she's still so sweet inside once you peel back the layers. “So, what will ya have?”
Ivy jumps down her throat with “It’s all meat, OK?” blurting out the secret.
“What is?”
“I don't eat plants anymore, not since my rebirth. I used to be a vegan, but after I gained my powers, how could I?” Holding her arms out, hairs standing up. “I can feel the green calling, sense all the vegetation nearby, feel their pheromones communicating, I can share how thirsty they are, how sun-starved, how choked…”
Harley looks around edgily as if she might be able to see it too.
“I know their plight. I know how they are drowned in chemicals, injected with preservatives, sprayed and bleached and buried in packaging. Shuddering even the most organic proactive vegan corporation you can think of is no more than a battery farm. Not to mention the poor soil! This country learned so little from the dust bowl!”
Doctor nodding along, enjoying seeing passion creep back into her voice.
“I couldn't contribute to that, any longer. I couldn't stomach it. I'd rather eat feral rats than go back to mindless consumption. No offence”
“None taken!”
“Animals ... Animals are nothing more than a stage of plant life cycles anyway. " Chewing away mindlessly just like men. They’ll become fertiliser eventually, fit for the true masters of this world. Aquaman eats fish and no hassles him about it. I wouldn't expect anything less from others or you. she waves it off. It's my diet, my choice."
“People too?” Harley grins, sly eyes gleaming.
“No. I'm no cannibal.” Ivy continues confessing bluntly. “Not like I'm gonna contribute to all the abuse in factory farms. So, I just steal it all…”
“Same here.” She adds.
“I've been a carnivore since my rebirth, it's been nothing but meat, fish, eggs, honey, yoghurts, cheeses, broths. I could still digest plants. I just can't bring myself to.” Being vegan made sense when she had no power and could only save the smallest piece of the environment. “How do you feel about that, gonna call me a hypocrite?” she dares.
“Nah” she snorts, amused that Ivy even thinks that. “I worked with King Shark, remember!”
“Don't tell anyone. "Looking down, mumbling too proud to say please. Shamefaced.
“That's cool! Ya secrets safe with me Red! Girl scouts honour!” she salutes. “Ya know ya look so freaking good fa someone on keto. “Gawd! Ya like a runner bean! So tall and slender!” Harley can't turn herself off, juggling dirty thoughts.
“Well, all those red meat calories are burned right off when I-”
“Fuck?” suggests Harley casually chewing on a bacon rind.
“Use my powers! It's very draining.” Ivy rolls her eyes. A cheesy gag that can't help but lift her mood. Endearing her to Harley who’s busy licking the grease off her fingers then kissing them clean in a way she hopes may set Ivy's mind spinning once more. Lips smacking.
“Well, ya sure are carnal! I shoulda guessed.” She shakes her head.
“Well, I don't advertise this shit.” Kneading her brow, confused and almost disappointed by Quinn’s lack of judgement.
“So, bacon and eggs all round then?”
“Sure.” Shrugging. Soon enough Harley doles out two huge plates and they attack their breakfasts as one. Normally Quinn puts the TV on while eating instead today fixating upon Ivy while she devours her plate, with more gusto than Harley. The green woman eating up every scrap, no more aloofness she eats like a bodybuilder. No restraint, fingers grabbing at the last traces, finishing before Harley.
“What?” Catching her stare upon finally lifting her gaze from her plate.
“Just good to see ya enjoying something.”
Ivy looks away, embarrassed at being observed. At being caught indulging her appetite, seemingly only realising just how famished she really was upon finishing. Uneasy at being watched at all.
Upon finishing hers the blonde rests her chin in her hands. Under her gaze remembering her manners, politely complimenting “Thanks Harls, that was really good.” Impressed at her cooking skill.
“Ya welcome! So got any plans fer today?” Quinn probes. Munching on a slice of toast she made just for herself.
“Uhh maybe but I'm always working.” she deflects. Trying to sound important.
“Me too, but we’re our own bosses so why not take tonight off?” Harley winks. Geez! I'm not asking her to plan a wedding! Sensing Ivy's reluctance she persists, not letting her wriggles back into ambiguity. “Ya know I studied Maslow's hierarchy of needs in college. I just wanna help ya self-actualize...” she quotes. My turn to be generous this morning. “There's no one here but us and nothing to do all day…”
“I've got lots to do…” Ivy frowns quizzically.
“We riled up the cops last night something fierce, so I’m playing it safe, do you really wanna walk home during a man hunt?”
Ivy looks around, feeling the walls close in, even though she doesn't like going out anyway, having the choice taken away, maddens her.
“Ya don't have to look so down over it.” The only other person who had Harley all to themselves and wasn't on her all the time was… Him. She’d much rather be gossiping over last night's celebrations, hard to believe its the same woman sitting in front of her even as leftover love bites bloomed. No chance of a good morning kiss at this point and even less of that spiralling into a nice make out session. Disappointed at Ivy's aloofness not liking how bitter she seems despite such a perfect night. “Ya free to leave. I just thought ya liked me a little more than that?” Eyeing her suspiciously over the rim of her coffee cup.
“I do.” Monotone and blinking.
“Didn't cha have a good time?” Eyes wide, paler than before.
“I …did. Thank you.” Stiff and formal like it was a business deal.
“Phew!” She wipes her forehead theatrically. “So, did I. I really needed it and not just ya helping hands. “I get lonely. Don't you?” World's greatest detective over here!
“I have my thralls.” placing hands on the table, backing her chair away from it with a scrape.
Oh? Tell me about em” leaning over the table. Eyes following, chin resting in her palms.
“They do grunt work for my cause. I brainwashed them with my pheromones. And now they dote on me. Foolish men easily bent to serve my needs. They don't count as …” Lovers? Like you do? Or did?
“Hardcore.” Harley nods respectfully.
“Like I already told you, I’m a villain.” Ivy shrugs.
“Pff, I bet they were all rent-a-cops or whatever anyway. Good riddance!” finishing her coffee, moving onto the smoothie.
“Uh I mean they were but… ugh-” not letting herself get dragged into an ethics debate.
“Ya not gonna try and tell me they're good company too? Are ya?” Digging for the root of the isolated botanist’s problems.
Coldly dismissing with “Look, I don't need friends.”
Harley's turn to roll her eyes. How predictable! Folding her arms. Pointing out. “Well, I don't let just anyone in my top-secret lair ya know.”
“Fair enough” Ivy mumbles. That's fair but she doesn't want to acknowledge it anymore. Taking her plate to the sink.
“So, where's yours? Fer the next time we wanna play doctors.” Quinn wiggles her eyebrows. Willing to accept rejection If only Ivy could make a friggin decision!
“It's uh- in town. Not as fancy as this. Very old fashioned and low tech. You’d hate it.”
Noting how she deflects Dr Quinzel tries an easier question. “So, you got a longer name than Ivy? Can't be any worse than taking a few syllables offa mine like Joker did?” Getting up and joining her in the kitchenette.
“Just call me Poison or Red if you must.” She acquiesces, letting her close in. “But first tell me… What's your secret Quinn?” Changing to the fascinating subject of Harley’s force of nature personality, not wanting to be quizzed deeper on her lair.
“Huh?”
“How do you just do everything?” Gesticulating around, unsure how to put into words the wonder she feels at the woman's impossible lifestyle. It's not material goods or even her many talents Ivy yearns for but Harleen’s burning enthusiasm in the face of all the odds against her. That passionate optimism for life despite all it has done to her. There's no secret identity here, Harleen is Harley. “How do you just have it all? Do it all?”
“I really don't have it all. I just have a little trust and appreciate things as they come. Better to live full than to live safe. Whether ya a villain or not.” Hopping up and parking herself on the kitchen counter.
“One of us has gotta be careful. I know what it's like to die for my mistakes. And I have a crusade to wage” Getting defensive.
“I have a cause to serve too. I'm not freewheeling here. I still mean ta be the Clown Queen of crime! Once I'm the boss bitch of Gotham I'll have some fun with it before it gets boring then move on maybe ta Metropolis… but ya know any good queen needs a sexy red headed consort…” Trailing off, fingers wiggling, reaching out to Ivy.
“I still serve a greater power. I can't just run away whenever I want. I owe nature for my powers. She cringes away.
“That's a tiring way ta exist. Live a little.” She sighs suggesting “Ya don't have be a martyr for anyone. You aint no nun, ya proved that last night.”
Stung and recoiling. "I can defend myself. I'm not going to be a martyr. if people were smarter, I wouldn't need to be. You of all people should understand what it's like to blur the line between hero and villain."
“Ya really think I'm a hero?” She beams, kicking her legs like a swingset. “Ya gotta enjoy the crime though, right?
“It's penance.” shrugging, uncommitted.
“Fer what?”
Ivy blinks hard. Harley’s pushing her to question her faith. It's a shame the Green can’t formulate a compelling verbal argument back for Ivy's sake. “For my carbon footprint. For a life wasted, for ignorance and wait-why do you care?”
Wounded by such an ignorant question, Harley understands casual sex but last night was way too intimate to brush off like they are just strangers. Are we strangers? Doctor Quinzel interjects with a harsh diagnosis. “Ta be honest from where I'm sitting it all just sounds like another abusive relationship ta me.”
“I definitely prefer you as a super villain to a doctor.” Ivy snaps, lips pursed.
“Aww me too!” deflating the jab with honest agreement. Remembering an old detail, distracting Ivy from moral dilemmas “Didn't cha used to wear glasses?”
“My eyes got better with my powers. They don't define me.” she mutters quickly, wanting to forget the past. Ashamed of Pam. Can't she just see me as Ivy?!
“Well, they made ya look even cuter. Ya do know I'm wearing contacts right Ives? But I still got ma old pair of reading ones round here somewhere…" Looking round for them before giving up. “Ah well. They do make me look real cute though”
“You do?” The last fragments of the Harley she’d built in her head crumbles. Assuming she would have been prom queen, queen bee, head cheerleader with honours. Not a four eyed loser like me. Could we have friends at school after all? More than friends? “I mean- I'm not cute, I'm powerful”.
Having a brainwave Harley suggests “Not too powerful to meet the boys then?” Gesturing a thumb towards the giant cage. Inside are two slavering hyenas r esting on a bed of blankets and chew toys. Pushing off the counter.
The redhead wracks her brain for excuses. Finding none. Shuffling on her feet. Never as comfortable with unpredictable fauna as she is with the slower more predictable pace of Flora. Having had no pets as a youth.
“What? Afraid ya might like it? Or just afraid? They won't bite unless I tell em too. Training them was harder than med school!” Eyebrows wiggling, lips curling over pink gums in a toothy grin to match the Mohawked canines.
Ivy gathers her courage. “I'm not afraid.” Telling herself she should relish a chance to meet a tiny portion of the natural world she serves. Harley opens the cage. Ivy shuffles back. The duo bound out instantly, leaping straight at the kneeling Harley, into her outstretched pale arms, the athlete wobbling under their combined weight. Animals pawing playfully at Harley, all three giggling in delight.
“Love ya ma babies!” Harley smiles, Hugging the dogs tight to her chest. Showing no fear, totally familiar with the carnivores. Letting long tongues lick her cheeks while she giggles. “Wanna get in on this Red?” Ivy tuts but a twitch of a smile crosses her face above her folded arms. The carnivores rasp heavily. The trio clearly overjoyed at reuniting. Even Ivy's locked heart can't help but warm at such a wholesome sight. Not even bothering to dismiss it with a sigh or a rolled eye. “That one's Bud and this one's Lou.” Quinn points out “Ya can tell cos Lou’s in the diamond collar and the Bud’s in the sapphire one. They're brothers ya know. Least that's what the exhibit sign said.” From the affection in her voice, doting looks and how casually she tussles with them. It's obvious even to Pamela how much they mean to Harleen. Her last real friends from back when she was the Joker's girlfriend. As long-term companions to Harleen as some specific trees were to Ivy. Harley tosses them two gristly bones from a sealed Tupperware box. “Go get him, boys!” The hyenas turn, diving as one. Mauling and rolling on the carpet. Ivy gawps, a hand to her mouth when she hears them crack the bone open like nothing. A few wince inducing crunches like snapping branches and the twosome have gobbled up the entire thing. Harley claps, proud of her well-trained pets. “Yer go now.”
Shuffling closer Ivy laughs nervously trying to show no fear, botany is her expertise not zoology. Acting like it's no big deal. Letting them clamber, the beasts clearly excited to meet someone new. It's no worse than any other overexcited dog, just way heavier. Glad she's got some clothes on as they drool and slobber. Sharp nails digging in. The excitable duo calms enough for Ivy to pet them to Harley’s approving nods. The clown beams as the activist lets them lick her hands and cheek. Cupping their drooling faces. All stubby snouts, black lips and bristly blonde mohawks. Spiked collars studded with gems like Quinn said hidden under spotted fur. Thick flesh underneath, better fed than any Hyena alive Ivy hypothesises I bet she spoils them rotten. The cage full of toys is evidence enough. Noticing when their mouths close, they are cute as puppies. Their exotic spotted fur is warm and bristly under her fingers. Luxurious. An inner voice that sounds like Harley tells her you have earned this. Listening to their happy growls soothes her despite her scepticism. Connecting with another aspect of nature, even if it wasn’t the part she served. Letting the wild creatures get past her cold exterior without even thinking. Ivy cannot help but smile. Beautiful, exotic and endangered yet safe here. Well done, Harley!
“Aww they like ya!” Harley giggles delighted. I think they wanna keep ya! “Ok boys that's enough! Let Ivy go.” Moaning the dogs oblige, facing their mistress. Selina always scorns Harleen’s sentimentality for them, but Harley knows she secretly keeps a litter of stray cats in luxury herself. And she didn't sleepover last night.
“Thanks, Harls.” Pam mumbles, barely looking at her. “It's cool that you let them roam free here. That's a lot better than them being gawked at in some Zoo.”
“Of course! I bust them out every time I do. Now go have some fun boys!” she throws another bone across the room. “Me and Ivy got some heavy petting of our own to do later.” With frenzied laughter the dogs bound off, racing around the room before jumping on the couch and giggling to themselves. “I got some clothes for em too! Outfits really.”
Feeling awkward again, distractions vanished. Ivy aches for the space to decompress and figure out her next moves. To regain control, having lost it completely last night, she certainly was not planning to sleepover. She doesn't even know where this place is exactly and is too proud to ask. Where's Harley’s paranoia? We practically had the Justice league down on us last night! Dreading seeing her sloppily rushed raid on today's news. Her reputation is at stake. Plans usually meticulous for that very reason.
Glum thoughts interrupted by “So ma next gig I'll be taking down the Scarecrow. Ya want in? I won't drag ya along with me if ya don't wanna. Pff I can take him alone anyway. But I kinda do wanna take ya to Noonan’s for drinks. Maybe we could get something to eat too? Ooh! Don't worry, they don't serve any vegetables there.”
“Why? To show me off like a trophy?” Ivy accuses. In a harsher tone then she intended. Mildly annoyed at Quinn’s constant presumptions. Lost in thought, feeling the day slipping through her fingers like sand.
“No! Ta show ya a good time! To show ya don't have to hide. Blurting “Because I like ya. A lot.” Reeling and oversharing again.
“Wait- You never intended this to be a platonic thing. Did you? Harls?” eyes wide, an accusatory tone in her voice.
“You got me. I’mma U-hauler. No shame in it.” Shrugging with a giggle. “I grew out of just hooking up. I'm kinda over it. So, if ya wanna clam up after that's on you. but I like to talk, and ma company comes with me. So, am I just a sex object to ya?”
No biggie, right? I never lied. I figure she'll come around.
Ivy stares blankly “Uhh Harley you're not an object, but I'm not your girlfriend.” If I push her away hard enough, the decision will be out of my hands.
“Oh, thanks for setting me straight Ives.” Sighing theatrically. Rolling her eyes, hands on hips. Scolding Ivy like her mother would have. “God, forbid I do a nice thing for ya.” she declares pointedly before muttering darkly under her breath. “Just like old times then I guess.”
Ivy groans “Allright!” Relenting, holding her hands up, worn down, “If it means so much to you, I guess I can stay here for a bit.”
Harley bristles shouting “Nah! Glaring back, fire in her eyes “Ya know what? If I'm such hard work for ya? Maybe it's better if ya go back ta ya top secret Fortress of Solitude! And don't come back till ya got ya head on straight!” Pointing firmly out the door. Seeing the red flags. The athlete's tone brooks no argument.
“Fine.” Ivy shrugs. “We’re bad for each other and I haven't watered my plants today anyway.” She scoffs.
Scowling back. “Then go! I was gonna let ya hop in the shower with me, but ya clearly got more important things to do. I wouldn't wanna get in the way of them.” Voice trembling. Arms folded. Shooting daggers. Internally despairing No we’re not! denying such madness. How could she say that? Turning away, eyes wet, stung at this sudden change of heart. Exactly what she’d feared made reality. Having nothing else to collect Ivy walks swiftly out the door. Shutting it politely.
When Ivy storms out the way she came in, the Scarface dummy has mysteriously vanished. Out onto the street. Strutting onwards, head held high. A little shocked to be kicked out but glad of it. Hard work done for her. Never wanting to grow accustomed to Quinn. Welcoming her punishment. Anticipating a moment where Harley would push back. heart set to rest now fair justice has been done. Similar to before her first arrest, the dread and nerves had gnawed at her psyche. Only after being captured and escaping had she lost all fear of the police. Easily manipulated tools like all other humans.
Once Ivy is out of sight. Harley’s blinking back a sudden wetness in her eyes. A lump building in her throat, from the yelling she tells herself, Warmth and comfort cruelly ripped away. The sunny day turning dull and grey. Ivy's coldness and the perverse pride in her eyes sting Harley worst of all. Maybe it's better this ended soon rather than get my heart broke all over again.
Ivys glad to be back on the miserable streets, it's honest Gotham, grounded in harsh reality. Whereas Harley's place was an illusion, somewhere she could pretend to be human, clutch at some brief joy and childish things. Stifling her like a museum. I was stagnating, she tells herself. The further away she gets the more she feels it was dead weight, lifting her chin higher, refilling her hatred as she strides through the stinking grimy streets. Ignorant people milling around her like cattle. Bleating down their phones. That wasn't an oasis but a mirage. Snapping back to reality surrounded by choking traffic and dull blocky buildings. Harley’s lair was simply too good to be true. Wandering over a freeway bridge, hearing the cars roar distantly underneath, in the distance she can see Sionis Refineries and Ace Chemicals ruins. Getting a tour of Gotham's worst offenders, stuck on the scenic route. Good. I need to strengthen my resolve.
Meanwhile across town Harley thinks Gawd! Ivy’s a friggin mirage! Refreshing yet vanishing whenever she thinks they have something real! Slipping intangibly through her fingers like she was never there at all. Her aloof distance and aura only fascinate the Doctor. Finding her mood swings confusing yet addictively fascinating. But she's well trained to read those. Vowing not to goad Ivy further. I'm being a Stupid airhead, thinking with my pussy again. Maybe I am coming on too fast. Falling too hard yet again but… This times different I swear! I'm not gonna leap in after her! Like… last time.
Day off ruined already. Instead of relaxing, chewing her lip, thinking over their argument. Shocked at just how fast things had turned sour. Did I drive her away? Ever the optimist, refusing to believe Ivy and me can't really be over before we even start? Looking round her now empty lair with wet eyes and a lump in her throat. Just sore from shouting that's all. Feeling very silly standing alone in a building is emptied just for herself. All the potential of the day stolen. Nothing about it excites her anymore. Thinking about contacting her Suicide Squad Buddies. It's been too long. Selina has plans and will only show if I beg. Deciding she's heading to Noonan’s later; I need more friends. Soon as the heats off. I'm out.
Ivys looking forward to a day spent relaxing in her hammock and maybe a massage from her thralls. Head on a swivel, flinching at the wail of every passing Siren, slowing her gait till they pass. Eyes darting nervously, feeling like the whole city is watching and breathing down her neck, as if they all know her name and who she spent the night with. Irritated at having to run this gauntlet, normally she'd be safe in her lair before the police even realised what had happened. Not sure of the best route out of the bad side of Gotham. Chiding herself I should know Gotham better by now!
Passing an electronics store, windows filled with plasma TVs shipped in on some tanker from China no doubt. Blasting Gotham's most obnoxious news channel. In time to see the Chiron underneath the award-winning newscaster Vikki Vale reading Partners in crime? While she blitzes her viewers with blurry pictures of the aftermath of the raid.
The famous hostess politely announcing “We now go live to Commissioner Gordon at the scene of the crime. Commissioner, can you talk us through what happened?”
Commissioner James Gordon looks more grizzled than ever while he explains the likelihood of a team-up. Standing on the river front near that damned warehouse. “Poison Ivy targeted this building in a planned attack, sparing no one from harm. Personally, executing the man, we now know to be the Ventriloquist, at this point we are not ruling this out as an omerta killing and are exploring all possible motives.”
“Could she perhaps be his spurned lover?” Vikki speculates.
“What the fuck?” Jaw dropping. Cable news sensationalism has only gotten worse during her exile. Vowing on the spot to add them both to her list. This is what happens when you lose control of the narrative!
“It's entirely possible. He nods “After robbing the building and potentially stealing narcotics. The duo fled the scene by vehicle and are still at large.” Villainess in question, letting out a world-weary groan, turning to check that no passersby heard. Will last night never end?
“What does this say about Poison Ivy's state of mind?”
“Well, we think this represents Poison Ivy becoming a fully-fledged Supervillain. Expanding her operations into full mob warfare. Tangling with local gangs like the Ventriloquist’s is just a start. We see this as her staking her claim on some local turf. Primed to turn her hand to extortion and drug dealing, with Harley Quinn as her sidekick. This is a break from her previously constructed psychological profile. Her motives are now completely unknown.”
“Sidekick? What the hell’s wrong with you?” she curses. Hasnt Harley proven shes her own woman yet? I don't even want a damn sidekick!
“And which do you believe?” interrogates Vikki.
“Investigations are just beginning, So it's too early for speculation on whether Harley Quinn has been radicalised to assist in terrorism. Or if Poison Ivy simply sold her soul, in order to recruit the anarchist clown, whatever brought the Joker's ex flame out the shadows must be twisted. Either way Gotham will never be the same.”
“Ugh! You men never listen.” writing them both off as even more clueless then she assumed.
“Is it possible this was a two-pronged attack, and the Ventriloquists were caught in the crossfire or that Ivy was following Quinns orders?”
“No, Quinn doesn't plan her attacks this well and besides, how could she possibly extort a Metahuman?”
“Godammit.” Head in her hands. Lost for words. Shaking with injustice for the solo villainess.
“What does this mean for Gotham?”
“I expect further gang feuds and turf wars to spill onto the streets. Lock your doors and pray for Batman to save you. There's little we can do if a Meta human like Ivy chooses to victimise regular civilians.
“Will the police be taking any new action?”
"Well, if Harleen Quinzel has the protection of a meta human again, we will require SWAT teams to contain her. I will be authorising sweeps and recommending a citywide curfew to the mayor.”
“Fear mongering fascist.” Ivy grinds her teeth, as he continues speaking for them both, staring icy daggers at the TV.
“And as for Ivy. well for her to employ a maniac like Harley Quinn. This means it's now impossible to know where she might strike. This can only mean a crime spree unlike any other. Last night's chaos was only a Harbinger of the lawlessness that's coming. This City’s going to bleed. No matter how many officers it takes. We will bring this duo to justice.”
“Bullshit! Don't you ever read my manifestos?”
“Thank you, Commissioner, for those-ah reassuring words. More on the story later.” smiles Vikki Vale, adjusting her papers.
Ivy bristles. That's all such bullshit! Harley’s not my goddamn sidekick and I'm not giving up on the Green! It was one job! It doesn't define me! I was just helping! In a half a mind to ring the police station but there's no point without a bomb threat ready to go with it. Harley would just break the TVs if she was here. Recalling her words. I am lucky to have been able to set my own narrative and reinvent myself from scratch . Getting to control what the public knows about me. It's not fair that people make up so much bullshit about Harley, they don't know her like I do. Recognizing she's grateful to have those insights. Blooming pride souring. Lost in thought, soon getting tangled in Gotham’s grey streets, too proud to admit she may be lost. Too infamous to ask for directions. Blaming herself for daydreaming. Angered already by a day she'd hoped to reclaim. Wasted time. Not stopping but pushing on, following the sun.
No excuses left for Harley not to do the chores she's been putting off. So desperate she even washes the dishes. Scrubbing away, taking out her frustrations on grime. N ext chasing down the endless trails of hyena hair from the carpet with a vacuum. The two wild animals got everywhere. On the couch and kitchen, racing around every corner. That's a lot less amusing right now. Eyes are dry by the time she's done. Dumb of me ta think Ivy can be tamed. If exile is what she wants. She'll get it.
Not touching her sleeping area yet. Only reminded of Ivy. It'll take ages to wash the stains out anyway. Wishing she had a better selfie or something else to remember her by. Ever the sentimentalist. Not even ready to shake the indent of Ivy out of the duvet. Bored of sleeping alone. Freshly devastated, having assumed they were all good to go. What's so hard about this? What does she want? Not friends, not company, just sex? Foolish of me ta think I could just settle for that. I want more!
Curling dumbbells in the mirror, feeling all the better for it. Arms stiffening. Pushing herself, motivated to beat her personal best. Gawd! She's just so damn ungrateful. Taking that shower all alone, despite the steamy water, the shower is colder than ever. No fun at all. Shoulda taken a bubble bath. Drying herself off and settling into s ome proper clothes, a baggy pink hoodie with matching sweatpants.
Coming to an epiphany I showed her my puppies and my bedroom! Ivy shoulda been clued up I been nothing but myself since our meet cute that night at Penguins. Accepting Ivy has seen everything she has to show and needs to get over herself. This one ain't on me. Accepting that she can finally relax.
Things only get worse for Ivy upon recognising she's passing the entrance to the long street of McMansions where she grew up. Worse than lost. The last place she'd ever wanna be again. Putting her hands in her pocket but glowering around, daring someone to recognise her. Last time she was here she was moving out. No choice but to press on, she can place herself now by her childhood street at least. Finding her bearings. Surrounded on both sides by gated houses all twice the size anyone could need. The lawns flayed to stunted grass. Flower beds pruned and mutilated to fashionable colours. Drowned in toxic fertilisers and DDT. Every driveway overflowing with at least two swollen gas guzzlers. Even more disgusting than she remembers. Lawnmowers and sprinklers buzz in her ears, not a single bird in earshot.
She can still see the old Isley place, the largest house on the block squatting at the very end of the street. Its huge garden backs onto Gotham central park. Half expecting her father to still be standing on the balcony. Arms folded and glaring down. Luckily, he died a few years after his divorce. Inheritance divided between her mom’s new husband, and her brother. She'd been written out long ago. Reminding herself he may be inside the monstrous construction right now. Curiosity says she should at least see what he's done with it. Though she's not what she'll do if she sees him. Or he sees her…
Bad memories rushing back, moving faster than her, but she can laugh them off now she's a Metahuman, most of them anyway. The once fearsome front gates looming closer. Many fancy cars are parked inside on a front garden replaced by a gravel parking lot. A party? A wedding? Hopefully another funeral? Wondering and progressing swiftly, until reading the sign and stopping dead, chilled to the bone.
Isley estate- Spa and retreat.
Knowing all too well exactly what that means, Ivy snatches a pamphlet from a box bolted to the signs brickwork, eyes darting over the text, clenching her fist and crumpling into a tiny ball, that she pockets to recycle later. Her childhood home has been turned into a damn luxury spa for rich C suite assholes! The very garden she’d grown, played and planted her first plants in is buried under a parking lot. Are you fucking kidding me?!
Harley moves doing a big lunch. Singing along to the radio to keep herself company. Thinking about starting the ice cream in the freezer. Flopping into the couch. Hood pulled up and vegging out. Catching up on some TV. Before flicking to her favourite news channel which is the one where that cute blonde Vikki Vale hosts, well used to catching her own escapades getting sensationalised. Pouting as boring old Gordon comes on instead and begins droning on his usual spiel. Due to the constant arrests and interrogations, that old, lined face is familiar to Harley. Looking very tired, to the doctor's eyes. Recalling he's gotten divorced too. Probably due to spending too much time at work. Oops!
“Commissioner, can you talk us through what happened?”
“ Poison Ivy targeted this building in a planned attack, sparing no one from harm. She personally executed the man we now know to be the Ventriloquist, at this point we are not ruling this out as an omerta killing and are exploring all possible motives.”
“Could she perhaps be his spurned lover?”
Harley spits her food across the room. “Him? no way!” choking back mad laughter. Too shocked to be angry yet. “Cmon Vikki ya better than that.”
“It's entirely possible. He nods “After robbing the building and potentially stealing narcotics. The twosome fled the scene by vehicle and are still at large.”
“What does this say about Poison Ivy's state of mind?”
“Well, we think this represents Poison Ivy becoming a fully-fledged Supervillain blah blah blah …”
“Oh boy… Scowling harder as he keeps mansplaining a load of bullshit about Ivy.
“And which do you believe?”
“Investigations are just beginning, So it's too early for speculation on whether Harley Quinn has been radicalised to assist in terrorism. Or if Poison Ivy simply sold her soul, in order to recruit the anarchist clown, whatever brought the Joker's ex flame out the shadows must be twisted. Either way Gotham will never be the same.”
“Ya hear that crap boys?” She calls back to the dogs. Eyes rolling like a washing machine, she'd laugh more if she wasn't so angry. Half a mind to hurl her remote though the screen.
“Is it possible this was a two-pronged attack, and the Ventriloquists were caught in the crossfire or that Ivy was following Quinns orders?”
“No, Quinn doesn't plan her attacks this well and besides, how could she possibly extort a Metahuman?
Harley clenches her jaw. “Pig! Whadda you know!”
“What does this mean for Gotham?”
“I expect further gang feuds and turf wars to spill onto the streets. Lock your doors and pray for Batman to save you. There's little we can do if a Meta human like Ivy chooses to victimise regular civilians."
That aint what Ivys about at all? Annoyed, the woman taking one night off to help her has been read as something else entirely, knowing how much her morals and reputation means to her. Ain't they read her manifestos?
“Will the police be taking any new action?”
“Well, if Harleen Quinzel has the protection of a meta human again, we will require SWAT teams to contain her. I will be authorising sweeps and recommending a citywide curfew to the mayor.”
“Good luck with that Gordo!”
“Blah blah blah -Last night's chaos was only a Harbinger of the lawlessness that's coming. This Citys going to bleed. No matter how many officers it takes. We will bring this duo to justice.”
“Oh, geez Ives I never woulda asked ya out if I knew Gordo would overreact like this…” head lolling, heavy on the couch.
“Thank you, Commissioner, for those-ah reassuring words. More on the story later.” smiles Vikki Vale. Quinn f licking away to a better channel with a harsh laugh.
Pamela’s brother must have sold the place sometime after she “died”. She should have guessed he would sell out. But he remained frozen as a college student in her memory. Intentionally losing track of him. Insulted by this despite the fact he has no idea his only sister is still alive. There never was a funeral for Pamela. Far as anyone was concerned, she had simply gone missing. The GCPD threw her life away down into depths of the cold cases so they could work on catching the notorious Poison Ivy.
In her mind this place had festered, been boarded up and left to rot. Reclaimed by the earth but here it is defying her with bright paint and renovated windows looking like new. Glaring back through the bars. I shoulda known better. Of all the things! Gut twisting defaulting to mad, yet unsure what else to feel. Somehow this is worse than the mansion she had preserved in her mind. An ugly mood settles inside her gut like concrete. Powers rising to the surface. Needing to lash out. But not like this. Not without a plan. She never wanted to come back here anyway. Yet to see her own home become something even worse… She swallows a hard lump in her throat. Face twisted into something harsh and witchlike. Spitting on the tarmac, turning her back, walking away and scowling all the way back home. Forgetting her Harley troubles.
Quinn watches TV till getting bored. Leaping up and busying herself with her daily exercises. Weights and stretches and lastly the punch bag. Landing jabs, kicks and hooks. At first, it's herself. Then it's Gordon. Until she's way too sweaty to be mad. Knuckles left raw and stinging. The exercise is a welcome distraction, But it's not enough. Never is. Rewarding herself with a bubble bath. Keeping her hair dry, just letting her eyes close and savouring the cosy warmth. Kicking her feet in the suds. Soaking in comfort and luxury. Toasting herself and a job well done If Ivy wants to miss out on all this, she's welcome too.
Feeling a lot better in herself afterwards. Putting on some sweatpants before making dinner. Eating it while staring wistfully out the window. Shooing the loose hyenas off the table, since they know better. Still eager to blow off some steam. Mind racing, rattling in its own cage. Stuck indoors and bored out her mind. As the sun goes down, she goads Bud and Lou to their kennel bed. Throwing a blanket over the big cage so they settle down for the night. Yawning and stretching theatrically. When the twilight wind brushes her skin, rising the hairs on her nape. Why’s the door open? Reacting quick, whirling round, heart leaping, expecting Poison, and getting venom.
The Power fantasy returns upon walking through the Victorian era doors to be greeted adoringly by her thralls. Dead eyed goons, still wearing police uniforms or body armour.
“Welcome home Mistress Ivy.” They chorus. Bowing and hanging up her coat. Their mistress waggling a raised foot at them, until they remove her boots in turn. “How was your day?”
“Trying.” Half unbuttoning that stifling shirt and letting herself breathe easy. No need for modesty in her own private estate. Doors locked behind her by shuffling thralls. Before she waves them off. “I need peace.” Their inanities are even more repetitive and insipid than human small talk, but they are affirming at least. Herself once more. Shutting the world out in her lair. Sunlight streaming through broken skylights. The cast iron palace overgrown and consumed by nature. Vines of poison ivy climb and coil round the rafters. The entire space reclaimed. Yet with fresh eyes, her lair looks far less impressive than Harley’s. Maybe I should go easy on the work and get some more plants or some more clothes. Gazing at her possessions. Much in the way of science equipment and contraband for her one-woman crusade. The former public gardens had provided all the botany and gardening implements she could ever need, upon arrival, but her personal items were sparse, all brought from home or stolen later. Soil stains on most of the recycled furniture. Candles to provide the soft secretive light she prefers.
Reminded of the psychiatrist's words that morning. The life of a nun indeed! Penance for her unwitting youthful crimes against the green. All she has to her name is a hammock to sleep in above a library's worth of stacked books from botany, anarchy, politics, chemical engineering and her guilty pleasure- female romance novels. The lair is far bigger than Harley’s dive motel, yet it is ritzy compared to Ivy’s survivalist set up. But she's at least proud of the rain filter and water butt she's set up along with the solar panels. Completely off the grid. A childhood fantasy made real. Harleen would hate it here; she wouldn't understand it. Nobody else could.
The main hall of the forgotten botanical gardens is half filled with Ivy’s own organic crops and half fallow. For future experiments. Her fertiliser sourced from stolen sacks and a few sundries. Already warm, weak sunlight trapped in the giant greenhouse. Muggy as a summer rainforest, just how she likes it, though tugging at her sticky collar all the same.
Dissolving all those knots of stress, by walking amongst her work. Grounding and reminding herself what she's doing all this for. Watching over the rows of orchids growing alongside seasonal crops. A true oasis hidden within the city. Creating something instead of just pruning human weeds in the city. Instead looking lovingly over the rows of rare plants she raises. Harley could never understand my duties. Hundreds of responsibilities are blooming all around her. Though she does have her hyenas to care for….
Letting her fingers brush the soft petals, their proud stems. And the comforting warmth of the soil between her toes. Connected to nature. This is all the company I'll ever need. Chiding herself for not watering them before she left yesterday. Doing so now. Pacing the rows with a watering can. Glad to mentally tick that impulse off. Some of the space remains fallow. So, rolling up her sleeves, Ivy sets to work churning the earth with a shovel. De-stressing. Turning the soil over, making it fresh. Her personal form of mediation. Except actually useful. Too science minded for crossing her legs and humming like one former girlfriend. Feeling the fresh ache in her arms and the knots in her back, joining the other bruises which only make her stand taller. The thralls could easily do for her, but she’d miss the tangible accomplishment.
Casually lurking in Harley’s door, i t's Copperhead. “Hola Quinn.” Striding on in, not waiting for an invite. Having slipped through the door in near silence aside from the suggestive whispers of her leather pants. Throwing her trench coat onto the hanger. Already at home.
“Larissa? Don't cha ever knock?” Quinn slackens. Disappointed it's not Ivy. Larissa Diaz takes her alias and matching style from the venom she chose for assassinations, yet she's always experimenting with newer and more exotic ones. For more exquisite deaths she says. “Great to see ya anyway ma serpentine friend.” Grabbing a quick hug as revenge, knowing it will make the assassin feel awkward and she’ll back off quickly.
Hitwoman freezing. Purring in her ear “I prefer to surprise.” tensing with a sharp intake of breath before reluctantly patting the doctor on the back.
“Me too!” Heartwarming to see her friend return unexpectedly. I might be the only friend she's got. “Yer early. But it's great to see ya anyway” she beams. Eager not to let Larissa slither away this time.
“My talents were required for urgent business in Mexico” Offering an excuse but never an apology. “And don't call me Larissa, Quinzel.” Copperhead snaps half-heartedly, too used to Harley’s ways to be genuinely angry, but few could get away with using her legal name. But they’d bonded over the shared trauma of living in Waller's Cajun hell hole, Belle Reve. “I'm here to pick up my pets.”
“Geez Is that all yer came for? well maybe next time I'll keep yer snakes fer myself.” Harley puts her hands on her hips, only half teasing, not in the mood for any more acid tongue today. “That's not how ya speak to ya celly.” In truth they’d only shared a block. Both classified as threats worthy of single cages. No one to talk to but each other between the rounds of the masked guards. It was kind of a privilege knowing her real name, so I don't waste it.
The Latina snarls, mirroring Harley’s gesture “admit it, you enjoy keeping the extra animals while I travel.” laughing off the threat.
“Might do. What's it to ya?” a little shaken by her bluntness. Larissa is a born convict. Mercenary in everything she says and does. Only keeping a soft spot for her venomous snakes for as long as they prove useful. “Feeding ya snakes is no biggie. It's keeping them safe from the dynamic duo over there that's full time.” Jerking a thumb at the cage.
“Fine. Los siento. I know what happens when a mongoose meets a cobra. Word of advice, don't bet on the cobra.” Not that the dog gets far after.” She hisses knowingly before breaking into dark laughter.
Harley nods respectfully, a little unnerved, reminded the woman grew up in poverty. That's why I can always cut her some slack.
“Speaking of massacres. That was impressive work on the river last night. Smooth, showy, violent. I liked it.” She hisses with relish. Licking her lips. Constantly moving, light on her feet like a boxer, treading impossibly easily through the mess. Forcing Harley to spin to watch her.
“Aww thanks! Well, I had a little help.” Shrugging off the compliment. Shook by raw pangs of sadness from thoughts of Ivy. Glad someone's not gonna complain about how I run things. Bouncing back, finding it adorably predictable how Larissa’s Latin accent slips through whenever she's angry or trying to flirt. Blushing, somewhat proud of her raid. Praise from a full-time assassin means something. What the hell does Ivy know?
“So, I've heard. Good to see you're no longer afraid of a little poison?” she laughs suggestively, eyes bright. Hissing with mirth. Leaning back and rapping her fingers along her kitchen surfaces awaiting an answer. Cocking her head, and boldly, openly admiring Harley’s figure. Sharp green eyes cutting through the pink pants and liking what she sees underneath. Daring Harley to call attention to her hungry gaze and play into her skilled hands.
“Well-” The Sidekick shifts on her feet not sure how to respond. Not willing to sing Ivy’s praises anymore or try to impress the aloof assassin. Keeping up a token resistance. “I don't like to work alone. Ya know that.” Mumbling as the mercenary moves on striding through the place like she owns it. Appraising her property. Casually exploring the kitchen, gaze wandering over Harley’s pantry as if choosing a snack. Opening fridges, drawers and cupboards. Picking up a bottle of wine and peering at the label. Then wrinkling her nose and putting it back. Not to her taste.
Harley smiles fondly at her predictably feral nature. Growing up in a Colombian favela the woman knows what it's like to have nothing. Few know that fact either. Larissa letting Harley in on that much at least. The Latina is nothing like any of her other friends. Even Selina, due to being a pure killer not a thief. More like me, putting on no airs or graces, just being herself. Never mixing with the elites even unless to extort them. Circling her living quarters. After Belle Reve they only spent time together on nights out. Both guilty of light flirting yet somehow neither had made a move on the other yet. Feeling rejected, Harley suddenly wonders why she never did…
Impulsively allowing herself permission to ogle the woman, lean, fit, flexible and showing off that long-forked tongue. From her tattooed cleavage to her scaly crop top, the woman is temptation in the flesh, and it would be incredibly easy to succumb. Relishing the fresh guilty pleasure of a few sly glances as the contortionist circles. I wouldn't be seen dead in that much snakeskin, Ivy would hate it. But I shouldn't give a damn what she thinks anymore. Besides, Larissa totally rocks it…
Looking even better than last time. Nothing like Ivy, is just what she needs right now. Instead, the butch blonde is a twisted mirror image of the former sidekick. An athletic, blonde, super villainess yet far more evil, wild, and dangerous even to those closest to her. Carrying herself with the promise that she'd be a nasty enemy, but a fierce lover. Despite it all the sly succubus is a welcome sight, the antidote to Ivy. Just what the doc ordered! Operating on a bare bones moral code. No shame. No self-doubt. No regrets dragging her down or complicating her life. There's nothing confusing about her feelings for Harley. And she's hella fit on top of all of that. Flaunting that fact constantly.
Flowing round the room, with a grace even Selina doesn't possess. Blonde hair slicked back. Collar covered in rough tattoos Harley's always secretly thought were a little tacky. But they're growing on her. Dressed for summer, very casual, Larissa’s crop top barely covers either end of her chest, its sharp hems riding above her navel. More like a tube top, a second skin half shed already. The Doctor realising the walkaround is partly for her benefit. Offering Quinn, a free window to ogle her, like a model on a catwalk, practical yet polite.
We’re alike in a lotta ways. A Contortionist to her athlete. Larissa clad neck to toe in snakeskin while Harley usually favours leather. Both learned to keep their blonde hair short since prison. Harder to grab in a brawl. The Colombian crouches to leer into the Hyena’s cage, laughing as they growl at her presence. Wiggling her fingers between the bars, fearless. … and opposites in others.
Then helping herself to some leftovers with a big spoon. And crashing onto the couch and unknowlingly helping herself to Bud and Lou’s mince. Harley smiles at her adorable faux pas. Always entertaining, my kinda crazy yet unlike Ivy, Dr Quinzel knows exactly what makes her tick.
Colombian bouncing up again, her back to her host, leaning forward and admiring the evening view out the windows. While Harley’s imagination automatically un-laces that snakeskin top. Quinn’s conscience tries shaking off the dirty thoughts. But I'm owed some fun after Ivy spoiled. Tearing her gaze away to look at the ride parked outside. The Colombian having driven her convertible right to Harley’s lair. Ignoring “La Polizia” as she would say, and their ongoing manhunt. Less of Harley's optimism but far more confidence. Imagining her tearing down the highway, carefree, laughing with the wind in her short hair. Harley keeps on looking.
Larissa’s on the move again, Sniffing, flecking her tongue. Tasting the air. Harleys still not sure how much of this snake stuff is an act, but whom am I ta judge? Sharp green eyes appraising the bedroom area. The sink of sex still heavy and the chaos obvious. Lifting her bedsheets, saying nothing yet Harley winces, heart in her mouth, knowing she can see the two indents on the mattress. Then wondering why, she cares so much about what Larissa thinks.
Who turns, a knowing smirk curling across her face underneath mischievous feline eyes. Filthy mind jumping to the correct conclusion. “I'm guessing she's not still here then. Pity.” Larissa shakes her head. Enviously wondering just what Harley whispered into the elusive ecoterrorist’s ear. It takes all Quinn's self-control not to blurt out every single detail. Heart landing safely back in her chest when Copperhead merely turns to give her an approving nod so subtle, she could deny even making it.
“Oh, but how did you bring the green one out of the shadows? I would pay a high sum for such a meet. Even higher for a chance to sample her.” Slinking closer. Fluttering her lashes. Almost whispering. Locking eyes. Deadly serious and dangerously playful. Leaving Quinn to decide whether to play dumb or spill the tea.
For once taking the high road. “Her poisons not for sale. Even fer you.”, feigning ignorance, standing on tiptoes to meet her gaze, the Hispanics being just a smidge taller. Not even considering selling a meet with Ivy, no way Jose! Not even when I'm this mad at her! Not that the metahuman could be compelled anywhere anyway. “Never gonna happen! Ivy’s a total loner. And besides she's real stuck up about her activism she'd never agree to do plain ole mercenary work.” Cheering herself by thinking of how Ivy would never go anywhere near this cutthroat assassin. Oddly possessive over the runaway redhead. Sensing a lingering selfish urge to keep Larissa from pouncing.
Leaning in and whispering in her ear, Larissa tilts her head and smirks “Shame, that could have proved fun.” That long forked tongue flickers between her lips. “But that's not what I meant.” She rasps breathily.
“Uh well I better go get your snakes.” Instinctively baulking at giving in to Larissa’s advances. The only threadbare reason Harley resists her charm is old instincts. On edge around her, rubbing the prickly goosebumps up her arms. Fear or something else? Reminding herself she may be hella smooth but she's toxic too. Everybody says so. Tonight, however Larissa's been just the salve she needs while she licks her wounds and plots her next moves. Scratching her undercut deep in thought. I got nothing better going on right now… Extricating herself from Copperhead's penetrating gaze, the showy woman has an unnerving habit of reading her darkest instincts. She gets me! Retrieving the snake's plastic crate from deep inside her wardrobe and handing them over.
The slick assassin swipes on her phone sending Harley the other half of payment via an encrypted banking app. Harley would pet-sit for free, but Copperhead always pays, assuming Quinn’s as mercenary as she is, and Quinn isn't gonna let her get away without it now. Funny she's normally an opportunist. Letting yer guard down some around me huh Larissa?
“Geez! Yer boys are heavy.” Moving the subject to Larissa’s favourite species. “Any of em got names?”
“No. Maybe I'll let you name some when you come over to my place.” Speaking of a foregone conclusion. Rolling her neck. “Gracias Quinn. They need milking tonight; I flew in special on another job and I must be ready.”
Stunned, Quinn blinks, “So soon?! Don’tcha wanna stay over and catch up? Could be a laugh just like old times!” Too proud to admit just how much she needs the company.
She laughs delightfully “Afterwards, perhaps I could stay awhile... Maybe I'll tell you who tasted my venom this time…. Either way we can party.”
Tomorrow! Shit! That's ages away! Think of something! Think of something! “ Won’t cha stay for drinks at least? I know ya like yer tequila… sure can’t I tempt ya?”
“I… do have my vices. She admits. “Thirsty tonight, aren't we?” Sniggering. Tongue rattling between her lips. Lowering the crate.
“Well maybe I just wanna celebrate ya being back in town, ma serpentine friend.”
“That much is worth celebrating.” Smirking, stroking her chin with sharp nails.
“I was saving this for something special. You’ll do.” She fires back, getting a harsh laugh. Holding up a dusty bottle craving her approval. “Swiped outta Penguin’s personal cabinet.”
“I'll bite.” Larissa nods, “that's a choice brand. 100% agave.” Grabbing a seat. You have good taste. Men like him just hoard.”
“Gracias!” Harley pours out two shot glasses. While Larissa impatiently drums her fingers on the table, licking her lips.
Before going “Ooh! Wait! I got some limes!”
Larissa rolls her eyes. It's criminal to shoot a Tequila like this with salt and lime! Far too American for her taste. But Harley is just so easy to please.
“Just once.” She holds up a finger.
Harley applauds the breakthrough, promising “Just once!” already slicing up the limes, s oon spinning round with a try of slices and a saltshaker. Larissa beckons her over. “Bottoms up!” Quinn washes away the sour taste of the ruined morning with sweet tequila.
Ivy briefly rests in her wicker throne overlooking the length of the mouldy glass hall. Proudly admiring her ever growing handiwork. Closing her eyes in faux meditation, suddenly lethargic. Wishing to forget everything that's happened and start today over anew. She could fall asleep right here. It's very cosy. Only the thought of her childhood home now a spa shakes her from near slumber. Mind drifting back to outrage. My childhood home, a damn corporate retreat!
Clenching the armrests. Eyes snapping open. An insult so personal it demands resolution! It cannot stand a moment longer. She'll feel loads better scattering its bad memories to the wind. Replacing the site with grass and wildflowers. Itching to tear it down with the roots of the very trees that had been her refuge in youth. Sometimes ignorance was bliss. Just like becoming intimately entangled with Harley,
Science with its rules, logic and order will surely save her. Seeking sanctuary from intrusive thoughts in her precious laboratory. Claiming the garden’s old office. Built slowly from a dozen raids on biological weapon facilities. A work in progress manifesto, full of crossings out, is scrawled across a dozen sheets, pinned to the wall. A far cry from her cubicle at ACE, and that's all that matters.
Throwing on a lab coat, rolling up her shirt sleeves and brushing her hair back. Her most sacred project is stored here. A sprawling solo project with no end date in sight. A challenge to tackle even for her. Working on her magnum opus, seeking a way to evolve the plants of Gotham to fend for themselves. Aiming to weaponize them. Whether that means growing them to monstrous size, so they devour those who dare hurt them or toxifying their pollen to men like in that awful movie. Knowing she has a long way to go before she truly understands any life. Yet breaking new ground with every study. But still no luck.
Studying plant genomes at an intimate depth is hard work even for her. The endless variations even within species, are beautiful to her it leaves countless more variables to consider. Going deeper into their biology than anyone before, not seeking to use them or break them down but unlock something within so they can fight back. Gift them with the same abilities she has. No thralls, no people, no noise but a ticking clock. Here is the place she's been dying to get back to all day. Sitting at her desk. Re-reading the dry serious notes she's made. Hypotheses and sketches of various breeds. Potential plans and precious dreams are written here, all deeply personal. Certainly not the kinda thing I'd tell Harley about. She decides pausing a moment and cursing “Godammit!” Chiding herself for thinking of her again so quickly. Why can't I shake her? Like a bothersome fruit fly.
Staring harder at cell samples, making notes. Rubbing her eyes and sighing struggling to focus on science today but she forces herself to make progress. Well, it's true I didn't get much sleep last night. Seeking distractions in the room. Daydreaming. Pushing on until genomes and chemical formulas and cell structures appear whenever she blinks. No one to let down at all except the plants and herself. Deathly afraid of losing her edge. Succumbing to that useless woman who died powerless. Cutting off Harley yet retreating to her all the same. Using an eyedropper to place samples onto glass slides before peering through her microscope. Trying to disappear down it. Out of this world and into one of RNA, ribosomes and nuclei. The stiff silence is normally perfect for studying and experimenting. Yet today the botanist craves a distraction. Blaming being out of sync with her usual routine, blaming Harley, feeling empty because of that.
Bella still lingers, from a lifetime ago. Ivy’s ashamed of having nearly succumbed once more, her worst fear not learning not from her mistakes. Shit! Maybe I do need to get out more. Harley already knows her better than any of the Arkham doctors whom she’d simply spat at or spited with sullen silences. I could just go back into exile… act like I never met Harley. Before remembering she can't even do that. Not after the news smeared that footage of them racing down the streets together.
Harley had made her feel human again. With all the crazy, chaotic good and bad that entailed. A wild night without cares had ensued. Granting her a night inside Harley’s shoes. Or rather the version of Harley that exists inside Pam's head. But today the bill comes due, forcing Ivy to think of human responsibilities again. Considering Harley's words and feelings. All too used to talking to herself in this echoey arboretum. Rusty at relationships. Bitter at the ending to her last, though she can't ever see Harley breaking her heart like that. She's got more heart than me . Considering how they both turned to crime after a bad relationship. Pride lashing out after Harley climbed the walls of envy that kept her safe. I can't beat her.
Focus! Screaming into her hands with frustration. Once more denied a breakthrough Gotham’s plants are defenceless for another day. Their suffering will continue because she's failed. Recovering with the knowledge they weren't going anywhere. But Gotham’s evil will still be there tomorrow too you can count on that.
The tequila bottle lies empty surrounded by half a dozen limes, while the duo gossips like old times.
“I told ya! I can still drink ya under the table.” Harley cackles throwing her head back.
“Lucky you’re alone. Pokers, no fun for just two. Otherwise, I would enjoy taking you every peso you won last night” Larissa shifts her weight never comfortable in one position for too long.
“Oh yeah?” She dares back, a gleam in her eye. “Well, we gotta get ta Noonan's ASAP. Hit the town again like we used ta. Ya so busy these days!”
“We will.” she vows.
Making more conversation. “Whatcha got planned for the snakes then? Icing somebody cool? I won't tell no one I promise. Cross ma heart and hope to die.” Ever curious, only knowing after milking the venom she dips her metal claws in them. Beyond that keeps her lips sealed about her contracts. Harley respects that. Not good business for contract killers. Easy enough to guess she must have worked for a few cartels from time to time but why's she back in Gotham?
“We never talk business, only pleasure.” Eyes narrowing. “So why the sudden interest hmm?” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “Money was never your game”
“Maybe I just wanna keep on hanging out.” Hit with a deep yearning for company, her psychiatrist-side warns her to be careful, not wanting to blow things up again by treading on Larissa’s toes. Mutual respect had kept them close.
Staring curiously, Larissa leans in so close, Harley puckers, thinking she's about to kiss her, instead she takes her chin in her hands. “My little chica. She hurt you bad huh? I won't be the salve to your wounds. You are tougher than this, I know it.” Too proud for a cheap pity fuck.
That's gotta be the most emotional insight she's ever shown. Thinks a spurned Harley pouting, mind racing ahead. Falling back with disappointment. Arms folded.
Sensing her desperation, this isn't her usual angsty boredom. Diaz runs a thoughtful hand through her cropped hair. Pausing a moment to think then “De nada, you can come.” rolling her shoulders. Too slick to shrug. Acting like this isn't the most charitable thing she's ever done.
Harley claps before sitting comically rigid, hiding how much this means to her. “Can't wait ta see ya at work!”
“Likewise, if you bring that same bloodthirst”
“So, what else should I bring?” Liking her quick-thinking decisiveness. More alike than I thought.
Copperhead chews her lip “Whatever tricks you have, except the dogs.”
“Fine! Lemme change first! I'll only be five minutes.”
Copperhead gives a derisive shake with a laugh, reminding her “Tomorrow. At eight. I'll pick you up. I must milk these snakes first. Lifting the crate with ease.
“Before ya go…”
“Si?”
“Why did it never happen for us?”
“Separate cells. no more, no less.” matter of factly, she shrugs for the first time, as if this was painfully obvious.
“Otherwise…” She points assuredly at Harley and snaps her fingers. Before snatching her trench, coat and slinking out the door with a wave and “Hasta luego.”
“In a while crocodile.” Quinzel mumbles to the empty door. Rolling her eyes at how Larissa always vanishes once she gets what she came for. No socialite but not sitting in solitary either. Alone because she abrades a lot of people, not because she hides away in some secret commune. Already hearing her muscle car roar off into the distance. Given something else to add to her diary at least.
Ivy sniffs herself and grimaces. Stinking of the city’s diesel fumes and more, in all the chaos she forgot to wash post sex. Taking a much-needed cold shower from her rain bucket set up, sponging herself cleaner than she's been in weeks. Organic soap is the only luxury. Washing all that hair free of dirt. Icy spray falling harsh on her skin. Thinking on Harley’s offer as she tugs knots out of her hair. Trying to forget the thought of Harley’s luxury power shower and the thought of the blonde joining her in there glistening with warm suds… Shaking the thought away, scrubbing furiously.
Drying off afterwards, binding up her ginger locks in a towel. Looking down at her balled up clothes, suddenly repulsed by her red shirt and its Arkham branding. No idea what else she will put on instead but refusing to wear that shit again. Having let Arkham define her for too long. May as well have let Harley keep it on then whispers an intrusive thought. Snarling at that inner voice, deciding to spite Harleen and herself. Throwing the red rag into one of her old fire barrels, purposefully ruining the shirt under a coating of charcoal. Grabbing a plain white tank top instead.
Harleys still sitting at her desk, chewing her sparkly pencil and pondering the lethal Latina. Psychiatrist self-aware enough to know she might be rebounding.
Upset enough to not give a fuck. I know what I'm getting into this time. She was willing to stay when Ivy wasn't. She's put in the work already with no expectation of getting anything.
As far as she was concerned, tomorrow is as good as a date! Larissa’s unshakable confidence is such a friggin turn on! As if the Hispanic hitwoman could simply do better than Harley at will. Rejections simply flow off her like water. Knowing what she's getting with the Latina at least. No expectation of anything more, but Larissa will never be scared off and will hang out no matter how many times they end up hooking up. Friends with benefits beats frenemies. Indecision gives way to certainty. Larissa won't know what hit her! So caught up she forgot to even ask what tomorrow's hit is even about. It's worth the risk. No matter it'll be fun! What can go wrong?
Changing into silk pyjamas after updating her diary. Rendered sleepy by a dozen tequila nightcaps. It would be so easy to just push things a little and see where it goes. Excited to try either way. Needing her beauty sleep, hoping she can doze off quickly, wanting to be at her best. Tomorrows gonna be an audition for us both! Amusing herself with one last insight Maybe I just got a weakness fer green eyes. Tucking herself into bed alone. Mind clear, she luckily falls asleep quickly to excited dreams of the day ahead.
Ivy cooks a simple dinner for herself on a camping grill. The thralls get stolen crap like junk food and whatever rats or pigeons they catch in the grounds. Ivy has only shame for her unique diet, yet Quinn hadn't cared, in fact only reinforcing her choices. There had been much guilt during the first time she'd eaten meat since childhood. Starting with rats and moving upwards. Now, maybe she can try enjoying her meals more now? Of course, the lab is still better equipped than her kitchen. Schedule shattered, she's free to do whatever, hating this sudden free time to consider life, preferring to the sanctity of her routine. Yet with the day’s rigid order broken she can't crawl back into its comfort now.
Seeking control. Desperate to make another change. Have more impact. Scowling while marching purposefully out into the overgrown yard. If I’m going back out, then I'm not going like this! Heading for that childish totem lingering in the rusty old barrel, striking a match off the metal and staring, smirking as her old prison uniform burns to unrecognisable ashes. Savouring watching the Arkham logo blacken. Cathartic, but it still isn't enough. Yearning to burn more of her past. Severing all ties to Pamela. Armouring herself against any more human foibles. To be a mystery to everyone. Especially Harley who's already got her roots in deeper than any Arkham professional could.
Good riddance. That old rag was nothing but a childish, emotionally compromised sign of weakness. A vain attempt at formality. A link to one of the worst parts of her past. The thralls shuffle past gazing at the fire and their flame haired mistress without question. Only when the red fabric is finally gone and the flames flicker down does Ivy finally allow herself to take up residence in her wicker throne, tenting her fingers. Breathing in the pollen heavy silence she’d sought after all day. No more questions, jokes or inane chatter. J ust the way I like it, pure and tranquil. Glad she’d held her tongue and not told Harley where she lived. Despite itching to plan, instead she finds herself pondering the paradoxical Psychiatrist. Still envious of how the woman's impulsivity matches her talent. Ivy bides her time, whereas Harley scoops her up like a whirlwind and changes the face of Gotham in one night.
Thinking of the cleansing warmth of the flames again. It's never enough. Seeking to destroy something, anything now. Now! If Harley can be impulsive, I can too. Tossing the normally required reconnaissance and scouting out the window. Last night had been a refreshingly pleasurable oasis in a long dry stretch of charitable toil. Grateful for Harley's openness and initiative however it also leaves Harley without any reason to hate Ivy who is now lost without a reason to hate Harleen, no idea what else to do with her. Safer to keep pushing away. Harley gets everything she wants and gets away with everything else. Well, she won't get away with me. Pff she's probably forgotten about me already. Good. I'm over her.
Retreating from her to focus on rational problems she can solve more easily. Impulsively drawn to the blight of her old house. How can I allow that to stand? That is personal. Begetting immediate correction. Telling herself getting back to Ivy’s roots will fix things. The evening's impotence is nothing a classic fertiliser bomb won't solve. Shaking off any ideas of slowing down or giving up. Determined to solve at least that simple puzzle. Groaning and settling for it. You can never have too many anyway.
Back to the throne where all her tools and electronics are within arm's reach. A plan comes together as easily as the detonator she practically assembles via muscle memory. Grateful to feel Ivy return to her as she works. Green eyes alight, smiling alone in the gloom. Happily knitting wires together. Mixing ammonium nitrate with gasoline in the usual ratio. The vital catalyst having already been extracted in bulk; the lair stocked so many sacks of fertiliser she could almost buttress the place with them like sandbags. Bomb soon completed. Crude chemistry, far simpler even than her work at ACE. but far more cathartic than sitting behind a desk. Plotting the last details past sunset. Unable to rise or relax, leaving her usual hammock empty. Poison Ivy instead falls asleep on her throne. Harley Quinn slips into her restless dreams. Remaining an enigma.
Notes:
Weren't you expecting a breakup, were you?
I can cite Ivys new diet as canon to Poison Ivy 2022. I debated this idea for ages but I'm sticking with it.
Did you like Copperhead? We’ll see where she goes...I did not replace Selina with her either, she too will make an appearance...
would you like guys like to see the hyenas let lose in combat?
Why did nobody tell me I forgot the dates on the last couple of chapters?!? lol
Please let me know your thoughts on the latest turns it has taken. You didn't think it was going to easy for them did you?
I am behind but so is the Suicide Squad game. The race is on to finish the whole fic before it finally comes out.
oh and thank you for reading and sticking with this despite how long it takes me.
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