SUICIDE SQUAD //ONESHOTS {REQUESTS OPEN}

Can't do it. ((Deadshot x Reader))

WARNINGS: NONE

NOTES: Hi, Puddin's! Ok, here's the Deadshot imagine I promised you all. Hopefully it's ok, I've just been... Out of it, y'know? It's rather short as well, so I'm also sorry for that. I'm honestly not proud of this one, but I thought I'd post it anyways. So, in conclusion, this oneshot sucks and I'm sorry. (Also, if you wanna check out my Youtube imagines book, it would be greatly appreciated!)

Deadshot sat atop a building, the sun blazing down on him. He could feel sweat forming on his forehead, under his mask, as he searched. 

He was sent to kill a relative of a very important man, who owed his employer a lot of money. The man was told that if he didn't pay up, each member of his family would be killed. One by one, until he would eventually be killed. The man had already lost his brother and sister, and know Deadshot was after his kid.

Sources had told him that they would be here any minute. He pulled out his phone, entering his passcode and went to the messages section. He had been sent a picture of the kid. She was beautiful, yeah, but he knew better than to get attached to his targets. 

She was supposed to be coming around here at about 2:00. It was 1:55 now.

'Time to get to work.' He thought to himself as he clicked the safety off his rifle, and waited.

He watched as a large black Jeep pulled up. four men got out, rushing to the door of the right hand side of the vehicle. They formed an almost barrier around the door as it slowly swung open and someone stepped outside.

That was her.

Deadshot slowly rose the gun, and positioned it just so. He gazed at her through the scope, finally getting a look at her. She was much more beautiful than the picture his employer had sent him, her (H/C) hair gently blowing in the breeze as she walked up the steps to the building.

He suddenly began feeling himself feel guilty about what he was about to do.

No.

He wasn't going to do it. He couldn't.

Deadshot swore under his breath, sighing and lowering his gun. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

His employer was going to have to find someone else to do this. He wasn't going to shoot a woman who did absolutely nothing wrong. It was such a strange feeling that swept across him, usually he never has second thoughts about killing someone, but she was different.

He'll probably never know the feeling he had on top of the roof that day. But he knew that whatever that feeling was, it was real.