(A/N: I cannot write today this is not good. Still I wanted to do this asap bc I’m gay as hell. Sorry it’s repetitive and bad goodnight.)
Request: “for a beverly x reader: how about the losers got to the arcade and they see the reader all the boys each take turns trying to talk and flirt with her only to be shot down. after all the boys have been shot down, richie makes a joke that bev will be the only only successful at talking to her. while he was saying this no one realized that she was coming towards them. she interupts him by slinging her arm around bev’s shoulder because her and bev have been dating secretly for a couple months.”
Summary: This was inspired by the line “And if you have night mares we’ll dance on the bed” from my favorite song Guillotine by Jon Bellion. AKA Simon wakes up from a nightmare and Baz has an interesting way of helping him.
I was returning from the Catacombs that night. I had gotten too careless and too hungry. Deciding to ignore the craving of his blood and instead stare at him while he slept was idiotic, I know. But it was the only time his eyes were closed long enough for me to watch him.
I loved to stare at Simon like a disturbed creature and convince myself that I was thinking of ways to end his life, when in reality I was counting all the moles that caught in the moonlight. I wanted to make sure he still had three on his right cheek, two below his left ear, and one over his left eye. Maybe Simon got older, fell in love with a perfect girl, and decided that he really was going to kill his vampire roommate. But his moles never changed. Three on his right cheek, two below his left ear, one over his left eye. WIth a dusting of freckles on his shoulders. It’s like someone threw cinnamon at him and it just never washed off.
It’s a great way to spend my nights, except when pushing away the sharp pains of want gets to be too much. I was so close to killing Simon earlier, so close to sinking my fangs into his neck, that I ran away. I couldn’t kill my worst enemy because I couldn’t kill the love of my life. Funny how it works like that.
I fed on at least a dozen rats, and I could feel the blood sloshing around inside my stomach as I climb the winding staircase. My cheeks are warm and my hands feel human. It’s nice. My hair is tangled with cobwebs and my trousers are dirty. I just want to shower, then waste the rest of my night dreaming about the one thing I could never have while that one thing obliviously slumbers on a few feet away from me. But when did I ever get my way.
I don’t even make it to the bathroom. Simon’s having a nightmare again. He thrashes violently on his bed, his long limbs getting wrapped up in the blankets. His curls are matted to his forehead with sweat and his face is bright red. His eyes aren’t open; he doesn’t notice the crackling magick that’s pouring out of him in waves. The room smells like a raging bonfire and I can’t think straight because of his dizzying magick. (Then again, when can I ever think straight?) It’s like Simon is being struck by lightening over and over until he can’t handle it anymore. And how can he? He’s just a boy. Everyone forgets that, at some point or another. He’s just a boy.
It was something he heard from every guard and scientist in
the Southern Command lab—always the same breathless whisper, with a dry-throat
choke of fear and the shaky tremor of disbelief: Monster.
They’d whisper it, and swallow, and then run. That part was
always nice. Humans weren’t a fair fight.
“—yeah, yeah, monster,
you’re not the first genius to reach that conclusion pal.” Greed cracked
his neck, rolling his shoulders where his shield melded with the flesh near his
collar bone. “Words hurt sometimes.”
Dorochet swung in from the left, katana in hand. The guard
hadn’t budged since Greed spoke, and his frozen gun sliced easily in two, along
with a cut of his scraggly gray beard. This jolted the man into action. He let
out a high-pitched whine, then tripped on his own feet as he spun and bolted
down the hall.
“But still, I guess monster
is better than homunculus. Less chance of Pops finding me here.”
Dorochet didn’t answer. He turned, breathing heavy, and
watched. Greed rubbed at his neck.
“You know you’re a real stick in the mud today, Dorochet.
Usually you laugh at my jokes.”
“She’s close,” Dorochet answered. He stuck his nose in the
air, grimaced, and twisted on his heels to the left hall. His sword slipped
back into its scabbard.
Greed followed. He surveyed the walls with muted curiosity. Harsh
fluorescence beat down from overhead. Small strips of lighting lined the bottom
edges of the hall. It was sterile, and white, and buzzed distantly, and
seemingly hadn’t changed from the day he busted in to free his own chimera
“I’ll bet you’ve got some pleasant memories of this place,”
Greed mused. They turned another corner. Empty—not so much as a painting worth
snagging off the wall.
“Oh yeah, the best,” Dorochet bit back. His lip twitched
over his teeth, the hair along his neck bristling. “The antiseptic smell is
So this is a one shot fic, just a combination of some ideas I’ve had that didn’t quite fit into my lengthier fanfiction Back to Play, I hope you all enjoy it!
Harley was perched atop the ledge of an evacuated hospital building in the center of Gotham. It had been abandoned for awhile, so she often came and wandered around, or just sat on the roof, where she could watch over Gotham, as if she were the Bat.
Today, though, Harley just sat, lost in her endless expanse of twitching and flashing thoughts. They danced around in her head like people fleeing from a building she had entered with Mister J. She hadn’t seen Mister J in a while, he kept telling her to go wait somewhere because he was busy. She never quite knew what he was busy with, and most of the time, she didn’t care either. And this particular night was no different, Harley couldn’t have cared less about the Joker and whatever plan he had, she was fine all by herself.
She soon grew bored of the loneliness that the hospital’s rooftop provided her with, so she made her way down to the street and started wandering aimlessly, when she happened upon a jewelry store. “I haven’t gotten nothin’ lately…” Harley whispered to herself. So she trotted into the store, bat slung over her shoulder, and she walked over to the counter. She saw a petite sales clerk at the counter reach under the desk.
“Oh doll, you’re really afraid of me?” she began to move her bat from one hand to another, deciding what she would do with it. Harley Quinn wasn’t the type of girl that planned ahead, she never had a five year plan, she barely ever had a five minute plan. Not having a plan didn’t mean that Harley always went with the flow, quite the contrary actually. Nearly every decision she made was a spur of the moment, spontaneous, insane decision, coming into this jewelry store was no different. She had no intention of robbing a store when she was dangling her legs over a twinkling, and painfully safe seeming Gotham city. She simply decided that she wanted some jewelry when she saw it all lied out in front of her, like a candy store for a child. So it was really no surprise that what Harley did next was disastrous and insane and out of nowhere. She hopped on top of a glass case containing a display of gold rings and necklaces with giant, obnoxious jewels that were practically falling off of the pieces themselves.
“Um…miss? Would you mind just getting down from there?” a timid sales associate asked Harley.
“Oh sweetie, of course I wouldn’t mind. Harley came back down, this time on the other side of the counter. She whacked the associate across the head with her bat. “G’night!” she shouted. “Anyone else?” the shoppers began to run furiously towards the exits, trying to escape any possible Harley-inflicted damage, something all too common in Gotham. “Oh well you can’t all leave! That’s just no fun!” And with the flip of a switch, the entire store was shut down, every door was locked, nobody was getting in, and certainly nobody would be getting out.
Harley began to trot around the store, eyeing the jewels as much as she eyed the expressions of fear on the faces of her hostages. “Aw! So cute!” the clown queen exclaimed, looking into the eyes of one particularly buff looking man. He looked powerful, yet in this moment, it was as if Harley Quinn had stripped him of his strength and ferocity. “Can I ask ya a question?” the man hesitated, looking around the room for some escape route or savior.
“Uh um yes, of course, um Missus J I mean-”
“Whaddya call me?”
“Missus J? J as in… Mistah J?”
“Well I think that’s pretty damn adorable don’t you?” she screamed and stared around at all the people shaking on the ground before her. “You just saved yourself, sugar.” and with that, Harley swung her bat directly at his nose. Harley started skipping around the store with glee, she had already gotten to knock our two people AND someone had called her Missus J! Harley ran over to a counter full of blood red jewels decorating silver and black chains and metals, she sat on top of it and stared through the door of the store, and she began to daydream. She kicked her feet back and forth and began to sing like a small child.
“Mistah J and Missus J sittin’ in a tree, K-I-”
“L-L-I-N-G” she heard a familiar voice finish her sentence, but she hand’t seen anyone come in the entrance. Turning around, she saw the Joker standing near a marvelous pool of blood she had made earlier, she looked down proudly at the puddle then ran over to the Joker excitedly.
“Puddin! Wherevya been?” she squeezed the Joker tightly and then stared up into his eyes, contorting her face into a puppy dog’s look.
“I was just coming to get you a present, doll.” he smiled widely and Harley began to giggle, she adored that smile, it was twisted and manipulative and the precursor to hundreds of disgusting atrocities, and she loved it for every single one of those things.
“Did ya pick anything out yet?” Harley darted from case to case, trying to ascertain what he had bought her, or rather, not bought.
“It’s right here, princess.” his voice trailed on the word ‘princess’ and Harley swooned. The Joker pulled out a blood stained box and handed it to Harley. Inside, she discovered a bracelet, adorned with rubies the color of blood, and metal twisting around the gems as if it were choking them.
“Aw, Puddin’ I love it!” she ran back to the Joker and wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing her feet to flutter into the air as he held her up. He dropped her back onto the ground and she began to wander towards the store’s exit.
“Harls!” the Joker shouted. “Don’t you want to close up?” a smile crept into his voice as he began to think of the chaos about to ensue.
“How could I forget?” she giggled and ran over to one of the Joker’s henchmen, who was holding both her gun, and her mallet. “Hm…such a tough choice…oh well!” she placed the gun into the pocket of her blue and red jacket that had been embroidered with the words “Property of Joker”, Mistah J had given it to her as a gift just a few days ago.
After taking the gun, Harley grabbed her mallet and ran off giddily to the crowd of frightened people, still huddled at the door. “Hey guys!” she sang as she came up to the group.
“P-p-p-please j-just let us g-g-go.” one woman whispered. She was wearing expensive jewels and even more expensive clothing.
“I really like ya outfit!” Harley replied before playing whack a mole with her first target. “That was easy,” Harley whined, “she didn’t even try to play! Well does anyone else want ta play or should I just pick volunteers liiiiike you,” Harley brought down the mallet on the head of the random man, and then another, and another, until a pile of bodies was beginning to add up.
“J, honey this is pretty fun! We should go on date night more often!’ Harley squeaked as she stared into the eyes of the three remaining hostages. “Hmmm well I can’t let ya all go…eenie meenie miney YOU!” she tapped the head of a tall, and muscular man, who was cowering before the giddy, childish girl before him.
“Oh no, it can’t be me, this woman, please, let her go!” the two exchanged a look of gratitude before harley pulled out her gun and fired a single shot at each of them.
“I don’t like it when people don’t play by my rules!” Harley whined, kicking the final remaining man toward the door. We hobbled to the door, then took off in a dead sprint as if he believed Harley would start to chase him. As she watched the lone survivor run off into the distance, she giggled to herself. Everyone thought she was an incurable nut case, corrupted by a man who didn’t love her. “They all think they understand,” Harley whispered to herself, “they don’t know a thing.” she smiled. He didn’t corrupt her, he pushed her around and shot insults at her and even tried to kill her, but he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone or anything before, even if he didn’t know it. And Harley, well, Harley was just as bad, she was crazier, she was even more insane than him. She loved him, but she wasn’t afraid to kick him or try to kill him, in the name of love of course. What most didn’t understand about Harley Quinn was that she was her own person, sure she was always attached to Joker or Ivy but Harley Quinn was just fine on her own. She loved her insanity, and she was the one who made herself that way.
The Joker tiptoed behind Harley and tapped her shoulder. “Are you ready, pumpkin?” he smiled a grand, evil smile.
“Oh yes I am, sugar. Now…is it just me or are you in the mood to go hunting tonight?”
“Anything you want, doll.” he put his arm around her shoulder and they began to walk towards the Joker’s car.
“I’m in the mood for a toasted bat, or maybe a fried robin?” she winked at the lanky, pale man holding onto her.
“Harley, Harley, I knew there was a reason to keep you around.”