SUICIDE SQUAD HARLEY QUINN AND JOKER IMAGINES

Prompted

Hey so someone gave me this prompt- huge thanks to you! I'm at a friends house so it's gonna be shorter than usual- still good though I hope.

--------------------------------

They were together, ashes sewn around them, falling like burning snowflakes to colour the dulled earth. Harley smiled, and the joker pulled her forward.

He pressed his lips to her forehead in a possessive gesture, and Harley, Harley was his.

She lifted her head, slowly, gently, and his lips slipped from her forehead to her lips. The kiss was short and sweet, completely opposite the possession that had controlled him before.

She pulled back first, her skin flushed with excitement and happiness, and together they grasped hands and stared back at their masterpiece.

The masterpiece was hell itself. Flames and smoke coloured the sky and they leant into each other as they watched the city burn. The city, the whole city, lit the heavens.

The joker was the first to speak.
"I love you." His voice was quiet, and his eyes had skimmed from the flames to her, she turned to him, half of her face illuminated, glowing red in the most beautiful way.
She had been watching the flames, but he had been watching her.

His smile sparked hers, and she leant back into him and repeated his words.
She wasn't sure if it was the flames, but to her his face coloured to match the inferno that surrounded them.

They were silent then, silent and heard the crackling of the flames.

Then Harley heard something, something that made her blood run cold.

She spun toward the noise and saw him. A man, half shadowed, a man that she knew would never miss. And in that moment she prayed that he was aiming at her.
Because she was staring directly at deadshot.

She spun, spun and pushed, hard enough to move him, hard enough to move the world, because to her he was the world.

At the same moment deadshot pulled the trigger, and for the second time in his life he missed. The bullet missed the joker, and instead carved its way through Harley's body. She fell, fell and landed on top of the joker, the joker who felt the dead weight of her and knew. He knew and he screamed.

He screamed.

Then the piercing sound of another bullet screeched through the ear and once again hit Harley.

The joker's breath stopped, his heart ceased to beat, and he wished that deadeye would have hit his mark.

Bullets became rain, and her blood became a river. And all the Joker could do was lie still and scream.

And inside he died.