Sorry, another story. This is a one-shot only. Jealous Harley. To be mindful, it contains violence. Merci! Hope it isn't bad or too out of character for them.

Swing, Batter, Batter, Swing

The pulsating lights in the club flashed in Harley's eyes, obstructing her vision every now and then as she danced around in her cage, lifting up her legs and running her fingers through her mess of blonde, red and blue tipped hair. As usual, the spotlight was on her. All the men were enjoying the show. Every time she bent down low with a wide smile, wiggling her bottom around in her tight dress, she could tell the men in the room loved it.

Usually, she loved dancing like this. She loved how the heavy bass line of the music vibrated through her feet, all the way up to her spine. She loved the feel of eyes on her, no; Mainly one persons eyes on her in particular. Her Puddin's.

Lifting both hands behind her head, caressing her neck and the sides of her arms with her fingers, she found her Puddin' from where he usually sat, in the V.I.P area. Her man was wearing his white tuxedo tonight, combined with all his heavy gold bling, his chains and rings. He had both hands steeped on the top of his cane that he had resting between his legs. Usually she liked to put a show on for him, dancing purposefully seductively because she knew he liked to watch her.

Mr. J would get off on other people watching Harley himself. Watching how they wanted her, while cackling gleefully inside that they could never get her, that she was his property and his alone. Truth be told, Harley was happy being known as her Puddin's property.

Only something was different tonight.

When she looked in his direction, she saw his head was turned, and she faltered dancing for a second, letting her hands fall to her sides limply, off-guard that his attention had been drawn to elsewhere. Harley followed where her Puddin' was looking with her eyes, trying to find out what kept him.

All she could make out was that there was a woman standing around about two meters away from where he sat, lounging around like the king he was. She was holding a drink, talking to another woman, her hair brown from what Harley could see of her. The dress she was wearing was black and slinky, accentuating her small breasts and slender figure.

Harley's eyes flew back to her Mr. J just to reassure herself. Surely enough, she was the broad he was looking at. Not only was he looking at her with all the attention he usually held only for Harley, but he seemed captivated by the woman's body in the dress.

It didn't take long for Harley's mood to turn because of it. She slumped her shoulders and pouted, no longer in the mood for dancing. There was just no thrill in dancing if her Puddin' wasn't one of her main observers.

A few men that had been eagerly watching Harley, standing in front of her, waved their hands, disappointed that she'd put an end to her little dance. That made her feel slightly better at least, that other men still wanted her. She wasn't all that bad. A burst of hope flooded through her as she hopped off the stage in her heels, one hand going behind her back to pull her dress down self-consciously.

What was it about this woman that was keeping her Puddin's attention away from her, his self-professed queen? What? Wasn't she pretty enough for him anymore? Was he losing interest?

Harley glanced her Puddin's way again. Finally, his head was turned back to her as he sprawled out on the couch, sliding one hand off his cane to rest his arm against the back of the chair. Then, maddeningly, what he did next had Harley seeing red.

A strange hot throbbing sensation radiated up around her scalp as she saw his head turn back towards the woman in her skimpy dress. Then he brought his hand up to his mouth, covering it so the woman could see the back of it, his smile tattoo.

Harley had always loved her Puddin's sense of humor. Now, not so much.

She looked in time to see the woman laugh with her friend at what he was doing, though Harley sensed a sort of unease between the woman and her friend at The Joker's actions.

Ah, so her Puddin' was humoring them, was he? He didn't have time for her anymore? He wanted someone different?

Fine then!

She knew how he reacted when it was her being the one flirting with other men. Often, it ended with the man she had been playing with getting a bullet wedged thick into his skull, straight between his eyes.

Her Puddin' was always possessive of her, and he liked to remind her when they were alone, that she was his, that he was the very reason she was where she was now.

If Puddin' saw her so much as admiring another man, the man wouldn't live long enough to see another day.

Whether he knew it or not, Harley saw her Puddin' as her property in return. It had to be just her, and him, in a relationship solely exclusive to them.

She had to be the one who had his time and attention. Not some whorish broad in a skimpy dress.

Harley felt as if she was a bomb, on the verge of exploding. She couldn't lose her Puddin', and she would never let that happen. He couldn't be taken away from her by some stupid broad. He was her property every bit as much as she was his. The thought of this woman even so much as approaching her Puddin' to talk, it made Harley want to tear her hair out.

Making up her mind, Harley turned, striding over to the bar. She reached over down the back of it, bending low to get to where she knew her trusty baseball bat was, always left there in a hidden compartment for easy access just in case. She gripped the wooden handle tight with her left hand while running the fingers on her other hand along the narrow length.

She envisioned herself waltzing right up to the woman, getting real close up behind her, and taking a swing, cracking the ladies skull in until her brain mashed up like pulp. The satisfying thought alone made her smile widely and giggle wickedly to herself. There was a time where Harley would have been horrified by the homicidal thoughts that crossed her mind. But that was along, long time ago. She'd long since embraced her lack of being normal.

But no, she'd have to wait for now. After all, there was a good time and place for everything.

Instead, she let her arm fall, dragging the bat along with her on the floor as she ambled past a group of men in her spiked, four-inch stilettos. She kept her eyes on the outline of the woman's head and her flowing dark hair. The shape of her skull looked perfect for mashing in to the point where it resembled a squashed tomato. The lady wasn't going to know what's even hit her.

Once she reached the woman, she reached over, tapping two fingers on the woman's bony shoulder roughly to get her attention.

The woman turned back to look at her, her face scrunched in confusion. Then her face lit up in surprise. She was pretty in a generic way, sure, Harley would give her that. But she was no match for her Puddin'. She could never satisfy him or excite him the way Harley could. Or so she tried to reassure herself.

"Hi there, the name's Harley Quinn," Harley forced herself to speak, putting on her nice voice. She extended her hand, grabbing the woman's unused one that wasn't holding her glass rather aggressively. The vigorous shaking made the woman quake all over from head to toe in Harley's tight grip. "Nice to meet ya."

The woman yanked her hand free, wiping it down the side of her dress. "Um, hi," the woman muttered in confusion. "I'm-"

"-Loving the dress, by the way," she butt through her cheerfully, raking her blue eyes down the woman's black, clingy dress. "Where'd you get it from? Skanks R Us?"

The woman gasped and reddened in offense.

"Oh, whoops. Sorry," she laughed loudly, covering a hand over her mouth, feigning embarrassment. "Did I just say that out loud? Must be the other crazy side of me takin' over..."

The woman turned to her friend, both of them exchanging looks, and she relished this. She maliciously relished insulting the woman. It made Harley feel high and as if she was ten foot tall.

When the woman was mustering up enough courage to turn and leave with her friend, Harley's hand snatched out as she grabbed the woman by the wrist, forcefully pulling her back. The woman's drink splashed and spilled over the glass, falling on the floor and on the front of her dress messily.

"What the hell is your problem?" The woman demanded, failing to wrench her hand free out of her vice grip. Harley latched on, refusing to let go, even when the woman began to make a loud noise. "I've done nothing to you! Let go of me!"

"I saw ya looking at him, you know?" It tore out through her gritted teeth viciously. "I saw ya making eyes at my Puddin'?"

"Excuse me?" the woman spluttered. "I... I don't even know what you're talking about!"

"My Puddin'!" Giving her bat a little swing, Harley turned, thrusting it towards where her Puddin' was still sitting, slouched on the chair, pointing him out to the woman.

Harley glanced his way briefly, seeing that he was watching. Happiness surged through her heart when she saw how focused he was on them. He was riveted, sitting completely still, gripping his cane as he watched the show unfolding before his shining intense eyes, his lips parted slightly in a sly grin, his grill flashing in the lights. He was watching Harley and she was his main attraction for now. As she always ought to be for him.

"Please, I don't even know what you're-" The woman tried again, and when Harley dug her fingers deeper into the woman's thin wrist, she could feel how shaky the lady was getting. She was like an earthquake with the way her body was shaking, with how frightened she seemed.

"You want him, hmm?" Laughing excitedly and egged on by her Puddin's reaction, Harley turned to the woman again, stepping closer, invading the woman's personal space. She licked her dark lipstick coated mouth as she watched the fear grow in the woman's wide eyes. Then she barked like a dog, snapping her teeth at the woman. "So you want a piece of my Puddin'?"

Loosening her fingers from around the woman's wrist, she started stroking her, petting her with her fingers comfortingly, though her eyes flashed viciously.

"Aww, come on. Don't clam up on me. You can tell me, can't you?" she said, in a fake consoling voice. "We're both girls here after all, aren't we? If you want my Puddin', then all you gotta do is just admit to it! Admit to it and he's all yours!" Harley spun her head back to where The Joker was, an electric thrill injecting through her at the game. "Admit it. You think he's cute, don't ya?" Leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, she said dreamily, "I think he's cute..."

This was it. This was the moment. All Harley's restraint was slipping, minute by minute. She was starting to crack and she didn't think she could hold it in for much longer; It was physically draining on her.

"Thing is though..." Snarling like a feral cat, she immediately dropped all pretenses, yelling over the music, "He's MY Puddin'!"

Just like that, she let go. It was the most freeing, liberating feeling in moments like this, just letting go and surrendering completely.

Gripping the handle of the bat in both hands, she got into position, spreading her legs a width apart, then next thing, she was swinging as hard and wide as she could go.

Swing Batter Batter Swing!

She heard the glorious phunk as the bat connected with the back of the woman's head, and like a sack of grain, the woman went immediately down, falling to the ground, her glass smashing at Harley's heels. When the woman's friend screamed and tried to help her, Harley swung again, hitting the woman directly in her stomach.

People in the club had started to notice. Distantly, Harley could hear murmurs of fear and shock pass through the club, but she paid them no mind. Strands of her hair falling limply on her face, her forehead building with sweat, she crouched over the woman's slumped, unconscious body, hitting and hitting again. Then she heard him, breaking through everyone and everything else, a lighthouses beacon to her sinking lifeboat.

Her Puddin'. His laughter echoed through the room, and she stopped mid-swing, resting the bat on top of her shoulder as she panted heavily, trying to catch her breath. The terrible feelings of insecurity over her Puddin' with the woman, the jealousy... it was gone now. All she felt now, was calm. Calm and empty.

But the sound of her Puddin's laughter made her smile so hard that it was painful.

Ignoring the woman's body on the floor, she stepped around the woman's legs in her heels, focusing her gaze on her Puddin', her chest heaving from the exertion of her brutal swings at the woman. She felt so much more relaxed now after doing what she had done; Her jaw was no longer tense, her teeth relaxed from being gritted, that sick nauseous feeling in her stomach gone.

Bending low, she curtsied at him, winking mischievously before lifting a hand, touching her lips to her palm and blowing a kiss his way theatrically.

She watched as he reached forward, placing his cane against the table. Then he sat up and uncrossed his leg, lifting both hands, beckoning her over with a wiggle of his fingers.

"Come here!" she heard him call through the music tenderly, "Come straight over to daddy!"

Harley had feared for a second there that perhaps her Puddin' wouldn't be too happy with her behavior, that she might have turned him off and made him mad. She was relieved when he appeared both pleased and turned on by her demonstration. She was glowing now, basking.

He didn't have to ask her twice. Breaking out into a wide beaming grin, she ran towards him as carefully and as swiftly as her heels would allow, before climbing up on top of him into his lap, straddling him on both sides with her knees as she dropped her baseball bat loudly to the floor.

"Puddin'!"

Up close, she saw how much her actions had affected him. He had that wild distant gleam in his eyes, his breathing was shallow and laborious, and he grabbed her by the face with both hands in a bruising grip, growling through his teeth in guttural pleasure. Then he kissed her in a whole new different way that Harley hadn't experienced from Mr. J before. It was rough, passionate, needy. Seeing how much he wanted her, it made her suddenly feel so childish over what she had just done and how she had let herself feel.

She hadn't needed to feel jealous of another woman at all. Because Puddin' was her property in every way that she was his and, hopefully, he knew now what would happen if he forgot that.

Hope you enjoyed this? Merci for reading. I thought Harley would surely be as murderously possessive as Joker is about her in film :P