SUICIDE SQUAD HARLEY QUINN AND JOKER IMAGINES

Something cutesy

"Damnit Harley!" the joker screamed into the rain, "damnit Harley stop running from me!" The noise of the water caught his words and destroyed them, leaving his plea unheard.

He had been out here for hours, wandering the streets calling her name, begging her to come back, but Harley wasn't on the streets. Harley wasn't anywhere.

"Harley?" His voice gave out under the weight of his scream and he felt hopeless, useless.

It was his fault, he had forced her away, he hadn't listened, he hadn't loved her enough.

But yesterday he had held her, yesterday he had kissed her, yesterday she had been his- and today she was no one's.

He bit the inside of cheek, but hard enough for blood, and he felt the freezing wet of the rain cutting into him and he was terrified for her. Because somewhere Harley was out there, in the cold, because of him and his stupidity. And she was alone.

"Harley?" He called again, he would call it for the rest of his days if it meant a chance for her.

"Harley?"

Harley heard him calling. Heard him and stood still. She stood in the middle of the street, their street. She would not go to him, she would not give him that control over her. She would stand here, in the cold for the rest of her life before she would give him that power. Because Harley knew that he would take advantage of that power- of course he would, he was the joker, it was what he did. But she wouldn't run either, #shortandsweet repulsing be able to live with herself if she ran, if she left him to hurt. She was sick of running. If he wanted her he would find her, and if not she would leave.
She glanced down and sheltered her gaze from the rain, five minutes until midnight, five minutes until she would make a new life for herself and leave him.

She took a breath, wiped the rain from her face, and stood still.

He was screaming her name now, a constant repetition that he would repeat until death. He would call her name until it was the only thing that he knew. He would make a language of her name and speak it for the rest of his life.

He called her name and his voice cracked, his throat burned and he could feel a fever beginning to crawl through his body, but he would not go inside, he would not leave the streets until she was with him. The fever could have him. Death could have him- But not without a kiss goodbye from his love. Not without her fingertips brushing across his skin a final time. Not without a last look at her face, the face of an angel to guide him wherever he would go after death.

"Harley?" He screamed, and he wished, he wished and he prayed to every God- to every devil, that he would find her, that this would be the last time he would need to call her name, that this would be the last second that he would spend filled with utter terror for her.

Something answered back, maybe it was tone in which he wished, or maybe he had screamed it so loud that the very sky had broken with the weight of her name. But the rain stopped.

And there she was.

There she was.

Standing with her back to him, hair slicked to her shoulder blades, arms wrapped around herself as if all she wanted in the world was a hug.
"Harley?" His voice was a whisper, but it cut through the sudden silence with the clarity of his loudest yell. She turned, and all he do was stare.

Her hair was pulled from her face, her makeup coloured her face in watery smears, her eyes were filled with tears, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She was a watercolour painting.
She was art.

He was there, next to her, arms wrapped around her almost frail body, lips pressed to her forehead, then her crown, he traced every mark the makeup had made on her skin, and she laughed as she cried. And he was unsure whether to be happy or upset.

"I love you."
"Please, please don't leave me."
"I love you."
"Harley?"

She was silent, her body shook with unkempt sobs. And his heart wrenched inside of his chest, and all he wanted was to make her stop crying.

"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm-"

Her lips were on his, sudden and intense, pushing harder and harder, until he couldn't breath and he could taste her tears and he could feel the shaking of her body and he didn't know wether to kiss back or cry with her.
It was the cruelest punishment, was this a kiss goodbye or a greeting? Would this kiss be their first or their last?

"I love you." He mumbled it into her lips.
"I'm sorry."

The rain began to fall again, harder, and he gently grabbed her elbows and pulled her inside.

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Okay so I'm not great at cutesy, hopefully this quenches you guys thirst for sad romance.

Sorry for not updating yesterday.

Next update is hopefully Wednesday, maybe sooner if I feel like writing.

Thanks for the 500+ votes, it means a lot you guys. Sorry for not updating yesterday.