Harley Quinn drabble

Foamy bubbles dripped from her fingertips. She watched them fall back to the bath, float on the surface, merge with the others. She felt clean and pink and rose-scented in her clean, pink, rose-scented bathroom. She thought of the dirt beneath his fingernails, little half-crescents of black, his lank, greasy hair and the scent of grease paint like carnivals, loud music and surprises. She liked surprises, things that went boom and gave her adrenaline giggles. She liked the gnarls of his smile scars, how they told a story and it didn't matter which story it was. Her perfect pout said nothing.

She could carve a smile like a Jack-o-Lantern too and it would sting and drip. Pain was good. She wouldn't look pretty, she wouldn't look harmless. Maybe respected or feared. She liked jokes, but she didn't like being one. Not the bimbo they all said slept her way through school. No more "colleagues" grabbing her ass, laughing at the way she talked. If they only knew who she was. She would be the one laughing. His laugh was sexier though. Deep and throaty and good.

She wanted him. She wanted his dirt and his grease and his danger, yes, his danger - dirty fingers snaking into her clean white cotton panties, twisting inside her and marking her insides. He would make her someone else - someone dark and exciting. And she would be his forever. She would no longer be her own. The thought made her feel free. The weight of carrying herself had been tearing away at her for so long. She could be an offering, a sacrifice, a pile at his feet. He would pick her up and make her into something new, something better.