#personally i think harls would be funniest

[kitnita]

★  —  logan stankoven on what chaos!; august 15, 2024 (x)

[are you gonna brave it on your own? like, now that pavelski is gone – and I do think it is a good question from pete, of just like — just stay in that house. if he wants to go somewhere else, whatever, just stay there until he sells it or something. squatter’s rights. like, are you gonna live on your own this season?] yeah. yeah, I have my own apartment already set up, so — it’s gonna be me, uh, thomas harley and wyatt johnston all staying in the same complex, so, um, it’s nice that we’re all kind of staying near each other.

[who’s the adult in that group?] uh, I’d say harley, harley for sure. even though he’s the oldest, but, uh, yeah. he’s got an old soul.

[what’s the, uh — what’s the stars’ room like? ‘cause one of my favorite things about your group last year was, like, you have stars at basically every age level, of like, NHL experience. like, you and wyatt — awesome. guys in, like, ‘middle’ – quote-unquote middle – age. and then you’ve got the older guys like joe pavelski, tyler seguin. so what’s the dynamic in that room like between everybody at different stages in their career?] 

uh, I think it’s really good. um, I mean, all the guys respect each other, which is nice. and like you said, there’s a crop of younger guys, and some older guys who’re veterans and have been around the league for a while, so. I think everyone gets along really well, um — obviously, younger guys hang out a bit more, y’know, with their group, and older guys kinda have their group. um, everyone really respects each other and that’s the main thing. 

[you lived with joe pavelski, you and wyatt johnston did. was that incredible or do you feel bad that maybe you had too much fun and made him quit hockey?] 

(laughs) no, it was — no, it was awesome. I’m really, really thankful that pav opened up his house to myself and let me stay there, otherwise I would’ve been probably stuck in a hotel, so. um, it was nice to kinda get to know him really well, him and his family, and he had a younger son, so it was fun hanging out with him as well. 

[so, I was gonna ask about — like, what always fascinates me about when players stay with older players is, oftentimes the reason why people say this older player will be good for this younger player is ‘cause they’re parents themselves and they have kids, and what that means is — young hockey players end up staying with, like, a family. you’re not, like, just staying with joe pavelski, you’re staying with an entire family. what’s it like being around a family like that? like, I want to say it was … lee stempniak stayed with keith tkachuk and would just, like, play hockey with the kids because he’s like, ‘shit, I’m here, I like hockey, they’re running around, I’m young, I’ll do the same thing.’ what’s it like being around an actual family?]

yeah, it’s a lot of fun. um, I mean, they do — like obviously, pav and his wife did most of the cooking, but, um, me and wyatt were staying there and we try and help as much as we can could but, uh, usually, we were the ones upstairs playing mini-sticks with, uh, the younger son, nate, while they were downstairs cooking meals for us, so. um, it was a good setup, we really enjoyed it. 

[two questions — how upset were you when pavs announced he was gonna retire, and number two, are you still gonna be living with him even though he’s not on the team next year?] 

um, yeah, it’s sad to see him go, um, such a great career and — I think it was just more tough, like, after the fact, not being able to, uh, you know, get him that cup, I think … he more than anyone anyone deserves it, and, um, was such a great role model for me and wyatt, and, um, yeah. it’s obviously tough on the team, and us for sure, you know, being able to live around him, kinda get to know him pretty well. 

[you ever get yelled at? around the house?]

no, no, not at all. he’s, uh, he’s a pretty relaxed guy, so. yeah, we really enjoyed his company. 

[didn’t get grounded?] [yeah, what was the weirdest part of — because you were also, I’m sure, you’re trying to acclimate to the team, you’re trying to make a good impression on everybody. like, was there any moment where you were like, ‘shit, I don’t want to, like, make the wrong impression,’ or ‘I don’t want to do the wrong thing here.’ is it intimidating to be in that situation?] 

yeah, at first I was really shy, I didn’t really want to, uh … you know, eat too much food at the house, or, um — yeah, just certain things, like, I was pretty quiet, kept to myself. but, uh, you know, as the days went on, I kinda opened up a bit and, you know, we were chatting more and it all worked out well. but at first, you’re pretty intimidated. 

[and you’re like, ‘fuck I want this guy to think I’m cool. this guy’s an NHL legend, and this guy's a leader on this team, I want him to think that I’m coming in here and I’m a cool guy.’ but if you’re going in there busting chops, shooting your mouth off, he could be like, ‘cool. you don’t get to live here anymore.’]

yeah. yeah, exactly. 

[forever-more-never-again]

Fun with You (A Harley Quinn Request)

Requested: Anonymous

Word Count: 2706

Pairing: Harley Quinn X Reader

Warnings: Death, blood, murder

Request: Hi! May I ask one Harley Quinn imagine where the reader is part of the suicide squad and Harley always flirts with her? Thanks!

A/N: Tumblr and my computer are acting up so this fic will not be on my masterlist until I figure out what’s wrong. sorry!

Masterlist

“Harls! Look what I found!” You skipped up to the brightly dressed woman holding a bat, a grin on your face.

Harley Quinn turned around, confusion, and then amusement growing on her face. “That’s going to tickle Rick!”

You swung the severed head up and caught it by the hair on the way down. Laughing, you shook the terrified man’s face in front of the Harlequin, “But he was a bad guy! Don’t I get brownie points for that?”

Harley laughed. Deadshot walked up to the pair of you, shaking his head, but a smirk on his face, “Now, come on guys. We’re supposed to be on a mission.”

You pouted, “But-”

Deadshot shook his head, “No ‘buts’ [Y/n]. Did you forget something?” He arched a brow, pointing to your neck.

Frowning, you reached up with your free hand and scratched where the bomb tracker was buried under your skin.

“Fine! Party pooper.” You muttered to Harley, who had to smother her laugh behind a hand when Deadshot raised his brows at the both of you.

~~

You never would have pictured this as your life two years ago. You had been happily killing as many people as you could get away with.

You had been an orphan, raised on the streets of New York. The young gang you had wound up in had no issue taking lives to get money or food.

And you found you liked it. The thrill of the hunt, the look of absolute terror in someones eyes right before you squeezed the life from them or put a knife in their heart. The total control you had over someone’s life. It was like an aphrodisiac, a pill that soothed the anger that was constantly simmering inside you.

Soon you outgrew the gang that raised you on the street. Your bloodthirstiness causing unwanted attention to come onto them. So you left New York.

Bouncing from city to city, killing whenever you felt the urge, and sometimes taking the odd assassin for hire job. It was easy cash.

You soon built a reputation for yourself. The Scarlet Terror. You thought it had a nice ring to it, sorta reminded you of the plague.

No one had seen your face, or if they had, they never lived to tell anyone what you looked like.

Your signature? A heart, drawn with your victim's blood, on their chest.

You were wanted in almost every state, and even some countries across the water.

And then you wound up in Gotham. You had heard all the stories about the Batman, scarecrow, penguin, Joker and his little girl. You were actually hoping to run into one of them to see what made them so popular.

And you got your wish sooner than you thought.

Within a week of arriving in Gotham, you had found a billionaire with too much time on her hands. And so you decided to help her with that.

Sneaking into her mansion one night, you managed to surprise her and tie her up in the grand ballroom.

“This really is something else! Who knew the one percent had their own ballrooms!?” You twirled around under the lit chandelier, the staff standing along the wall, their fear written on their faces...next to the blood spatter of their fallen comrades who had tried to stand up to you.

The woman, Mary something or other, had her mouth taped shut and she was sitting in a chair. The poor dear.

You clicked your tongue at her tears. Wrenching her head up you shook your head at her, “You really should be proud. You’re hosting the one and only Scarlet Terror! You’re going to be on the front page of newspapers all over the city! Isn’t that exciting?” You laughed, the sound unhinged as you removed your hand from her face.

She shook, trembled, the tears coming down faster and the faster from her eyes.

“What the hell?” You wrinkled your nose as you stared down at the liquid spilling down her leg, “Did you just piss yourself!?” You yelled in disgust, backhanding her across the face as you shouted.

The chair tipped backward and she landed with a loud thud on the marble floor.

Snapping your finger at a butler you pointed to the puddle, “Clean that up...maybe with one of her dresses?”

You had returned to your nonchalant, happy go lucky attitude.

Rushing from the room, the butler kept bowing to you. Hoping you would spare him. You curled your lips at his display of brown nosing.

“And now...for the finale!” You reached to your calf and pulled out your trusty blade. Caressing it softly in your hand, you turned to the wall of staff.

Maids were clinging to each other, too scared to even weep at the dead bodies on the floor next to them.

Butlers and chefs were trying to act brave and be the protectors, but you could practically taste the terror coming off them in waves.

“Who wants to come and be my assistant for this act?” You asked the line of people. Everyone frantically shook their heads and took a step backwards.

Your smile turned predatory as you scanned them, landing on an older gentleman who had been sending furtive glances to the old lady of the house the whole night.

“How about you! Mister please come join me on the stage!” You gripped his wrist and put the blade to his neck as you walked over to where the woman was. “Go ahead and help her up.” You instructed.

Removing your blade to let the old man right the chair. Your keen gaze did not miss the way his hand grazed hers and stayed a beat too long.

“I think it would be poetic, almost like Romeo and Juliet, if I let you do the honors.” You gestured for the man to come to you.

He seemed to grow a spine then, standing up straight, he spat at you, “You are nothing but a two-time criminal who gets their rocks off bullying! The batman is most likely on his way now! You should leave before then.”

You couldn’t hold it in. Your laughter came out in a landslide of distorted giggles. Bending over, you held your stomach, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

You waved the hand holding the dagger out from you, “Oh my god! Give me a minute. This is too funny!”

Eventually you settled down. Standing back up, you shook your head at the man’s foolishness. His bravado was gone, he was back to being petrified at the person standing before him.

Spinning him around, you gently folded one of his hands around the handle of your dagger, and then you pushed him forward, making sure to keep yourself tight against him so that he couldn’t turn the blade onto you.

“I want you to see the light leave her eyes as you push that knife deep into her heart. I want you to see the pain you deliver. I want you to feel the complete joy and thrill of knowing that you took a life.”

The poor man shook like a leaf in a storm, his hand desperately trying to drop the knife in his hand, but your fingers were a tight vise keeping them closed on the weapon.

Once close enough, you reached out and ripped the tape off the woman’s mouth.

A broken sob escaped from her chapped lips as she stared at the man before her, “Harold…” A name, whispered.

“Oh so I was right!” You crowed in delight, “A Hidden romance between the help and the dame of the house. This is delicious.”

The sobs of the rest of the staff was like a background symphony to the drama unfolding before you.

“Ma’am...I don’t...I..”

You yawned, “Okay I’m bored.”

And before anyone could say anything, you yanked the man’s hand forward. The woman’s eyes widened and the man looked down to see the knife buried deep in her chest.

Her blood slowly began spilling over your hand that encased his.

“No! No!” His scream was high pitched and sounded like angels singing.

“I…” A gurgle, and blood came between the lady’s teeth. Her eyes slowly glazing over in the sweet release of death.

Flinging the man from you in a twirl, you regained control of your knife. Smiling, you stared right at him as you slowly raised you hand and licked the blood that had landed there.

“You psycho! You’re madder than the Joker!”

That set you off again, laughing like it was the funniest thing you had ever heard.

That laughter stopped when you heard the shattering of glass. It was then that you realized that the butler who had run off to get a dress to clean up the floor had never returned.

You growled, the sound vibrating deep in your chest, “What did that idiot do?” You muttered.

Quickly drawing out your pistol from your waist, you fired off several shots. All headshots. All aimed at the staff along the wall.

They didn’t even have time to scream before they were dead as well.

You kept the man alive, you needed him after all.

Grabbing him, you wrenched his finger backwards and grinned as he yelled in pain.

Using his finger, and guiding his hand against his wishes, you dipped it in the still warm blood of his lover and drew a loving heart over her heart, right around the nasty looking hole in her chest.

“You get to live and tell my story. Isn’t that something?” You whispered right into his ear, his hair tickling your nose as he shook.

Pushing him away, you sprinted to the large glass windows on the other side of the ballroom.

As you jumped to leap out of them, something rammed into your side.

“Oomph!” You felt the breath get knocked from you as you skidded on the marble.

Not giving yourself time to regain it, you leapt back to your feet and scanned to find what stopped your escape.

It was a….Alligator? Crocodile? Man? Thing?

You tilted your head in confusion at the beast before you.

“Stop right there!” A military looking man entered behind the strange beast with a rifle raised and sighted on you.

You stood up and smiled, waving a blood coated hand at him in greeting, “Hi! What’s your name?”

Sickly sweet, the words rolled off your tongue.

The man raised a brow, but he otherwise seemed unfazed at your attitude. Which, you mused, looking back at the growling Crocodile man, seemed fair.

“Hands up!” The man barked.

And then...she entered.

Bouncing in on her toes, a smile on her white face. Blue and Pink makeup flashing under the chandelier, her hair in pigtails.

“Aww Rick. Be nice! Harley Quinn, nice ta meetcha!”

She bent over with a hand outstretched for a shake.

Shaking your head, you smirked at the woman, “They call me the Scarlett Terror.” You shook her hand, noticing how she didn’t flinch at the blood that now stained her hand.

Harley Quinn, you had heard about her. The Joker’s ex girlfriend. The unpredictable psycho. Last you had heard though, she had been in a high security prison somewhere off the grid.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I really must be going.” You inched your way to the window, keeping an eye on the rifle still pointed your way.

“Sorry Puddin. But I don’t want to be a homemade bomb today so you have to come with us.” Harley Pouted at you as she grabbed your wrist.

“You really think you can stop me?” your voice laced with derision and amusement.

The woman pouted, but you could see a spark of something flickering in her eyes, “If not me, then it might be Croc, or Rick, or the sniper we have aimed at your head right now.”

You flinched at that. A sniper. Damn. You had quick reflexes, but if it was who you thought it was, you would be dead before the smoke had cleared from his muzzle.

~~~

And so you found yourself making a deal with Amanda Waller to stay out of prison for the rest of your life.

You became the newest member of the so called ‘Suicide Squad’ with Harley Quinn, Rick Flag, Croc, and Deadshot.

And now two years later, you had found yourself actually liking the order and stability that came with it. And the fact that you still got to kill people.

“Come on guys! The building is this way.” Rick called out towards the three of you.

Sharing looks of amusement with Harley and Floyd, you skipped ahead to catch up. Dropping the severed head on the ground.

“You think he talks to his girlfriend like that?” You mused aloud.

Harley Quinn danced up next to you, “Why? You thinking about making a move on him? Break my heart, why don’t you.”

You giggled, leaning over, you pressed a soft kiss against her cheek, breathing in the distinct smell of blood and vanilla that radiated from Harley. “You know I would never replace you.”

Harley smiles,wrapping her arms around your neck and jumping onto your back as you walked the silent streets. “My hero.”

You pretended to trip and stumble, causing Harley to let out a shriek of surprise that dissolved into hysterical laughter.

“[Y/n]! Don’t be mad.” She pouted, her face resting on your shoulder.

You laughed as well, “You make me crazy woman.”

“I was under the assumption that both of you were already certifiably insane.” The dry voice came from the man waiting on the corner of the current street.

You and Harley both stuck your tongues out at Rick. Causing him to roll his eyes and turn away back to the mission.

Jumping off your back, Harley Swung around in front of you as your group came to a stop.

Her outfit was one that you had seen on her many times. Her signature shirt and shorts with netting stockings. Her bat strapped to her back.

“You hungry?” She asked, looking at you intently.

You knew she wasn’t talking about food. The both of you had grown close in the two years of working together. Constantly flirting and touching each other, but no labels yet.

Taking one of her hands, you raised it up and in a quick second, using your blade, had cut a thin line on her palm.

Your eyes were glued to the red blood that raised from the wound and stained her white skin with its brilliant color.

She giggled at the pain. Making you smile as well.

“You look so cute when your focused like that.”

Her words soft. Strange.

Tearing your eyes away from the blood, you looked at the woman questioningly.

She sighed, shaking her head, causing her ponytails to bob in the night, “You really are clueless [Y/n].”

And then her lips crashed onto yours.

Shock and then bliss poured through you. Closing your eyes, you let yourself open up to the demands that Harley’s lips made against your own.

And then she broke apart for a second. Keeping ahold of your stare, she raised the hand that you had cut and licked the blood off of it.

You gulped, hard.

Reaching back for you, her lips melded against yours, this time slick with the cherry red blood. The metallic taste faded into the background as you moaned into her mouth. This crazy woman. She would be the death of you eventually if she kept this up.

“Hey! Lovebirds! A little help?” The shout broke the pair of you apart with a jump.

Sharing a giggle, you both turned and looked at what was happening. A fight had broken out while the pair of you had been absorbed with each other.

The assassins that you had been tracking had apparently found you.

Sharing a look with Harley as you tightened your grip on your knife and she pulled her bat from it’s strap, you grinned, “Hell of a first date. But I always have fun with you.”

She laughed, “Try to keep up Terror.”

And you both jumped into the fray.

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