SUICIDE SQUAD //ONESHOTS {REQUESTS OPEN}

Target Practice ((Deadshot x Reader))

WARNINGS: LANGUAGE

Like every Friday night, you were hanging out with Floyd, aka the deadly assassin Deadshot.

This was something that you and him decided counted as "spending quality time with each other". That something was a game.

The game didn't exactly have a name, and you two referred to it as target practice. What you did, was the two of you had a paintball gun, and would take turns shooting different things. Floyd wanted to use REAL guns, but you told him to save it for when he was working.

You grabbed you paintball gun, and began to climb up to the roof of your apartment building. Floyd was waiting for you. He took you into a warm embrace.

"Hey, (Y/N)." He said, "You ready to start?"

You nodded eagerly and loaded (F/C) paintballs into your gun.

"Alright, let's see..." Floyd said as he looked around the area. The crowded streets were alive with the lights and sounds of people hurrying home.

He scanned the streets for about thirty seconds before settling on a target. He took aim with his gun and fired.

The red paintball flew through the night air, hitting the hubcap of a blue van. The color splatted onto the tire and the street, contrasting with the blue of the van.

You nodded, impressed with his skills.

"They certainly don't call you 'Deadshot' for nothing." You smirked at him, "But I can do better."

Floyd raised an eyebrow. You attempted to look intimidating by firmly crossing your arms. It didn't really work, since he was so much taller. You probably looked like a spoiled kid who didn't get a pony for their birthday, to him.

"Alright, HotShot, lemme see what you got." Floyd said. You huffed and grabbed tour gun. You hated when he called you that. He insists that you love it, but you don't. Plus, he likes to annoy you.

You went to the edge of the building and looked for something to shoot. You saw a man eating a hotdog, and decided to go for that.

Usually, you weren't that mean, but you were going to prove your skills. You were definitely gonna feel bad about this.

You aimed your (G/T) and fired. The (F/C) ball shot through the air and landed exactly on target. The guy dropped his now paint covered hotdog and cursed.

You turned around, smirking. Floyd chuckled and raised his hands in defense.

"Woah, we got a badass over here." he said. You grinned triumphantly and walked over to him.

"Nice job, (Y/N). I knew you could."

You punched him in the arm, and shook your head laughing.

"We should probably run before the cops get here." Floyd suggested. You nodded and ran off behind him.