𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐘
- in which the daughter of a mass drug lord falls in love with the scarlet speedster, a hero dedicated to stopping people such as her father. . .
barry allen x fem!oc
( dc / the flash )
seasons one to three
THE stairs creaked as she carefully stepped down to the step below her. She peered over the railing, hoping that the lack of light hid her. A couple hours before, men in suits had come into her father's home. They'd been talking with her father for hours about things her eleven year old mind didn't understand. Words like "marijuana" and "fuck" were being tossed around constantly. What she did understand, however, was that contained in all the copier paper boxes stacked on top of each other were dry, scrawny strands of things that would put soneone on another mentality.
"How much are we talking about?" asked a man, a bodyguard standing behind him. "I'll do anything between fifty dollars per pound or seventy per pound."
"Too low," her father responded, his hands folded neatly in front of him. He had shiny, black hair that was reached his shoulders and wore a suit with a red tie. "One hundred per pound or no deal."
Caoimhe Young was the daughter of Lawrence Young, a powerful drug lord. He runs the drug trade business, selling drugs and taking twenty precent of sales from any and all drug dealers in all of Central City. Lawrence deals drugs to people of all ages, killing them when they fail to bring in the right amount of money.
Usually, the young girl was locked in her room at the very top floor, watching droplets of rain drip down the glass. However, tonight, Lawrence had forgotten to lock her door, so she snuck out of her room and into the basement.
"I don't have that kind of money," the man replied, crossing his arms. "Eighty."
Her father shook his head. In front of his neatly folded hands was a gun. From watching movies, Caoimhe knew that guns were very lethal and could cause serious damage. Although Caoimhe knew that her father sold plants he called "seven feet higher," she never knew that he had weapons in his possession. Actually, there were a lot of things that she didn't know about her father.
Coldly, Lawrence gazed at the buyer, his arms slowly unfolding. He began to grasp the black handle of the gun. "Eighty-five," he negotiated, beginning to get mad.
The way his eyebrows were furrowed reminding Caoimhe of the time when she wandered down to the basement during the day, hoping to discover what was inside of the boxes. Lawrence yelled at her furiously, but also decided to tell her about the scrawny strings enclosed in plastic bags. She learned that he had "seven feet higher," things that made you go crazy.
The man across from him began to get scared, the fear appearing on his face. His bodyguard defensively tightened his grip on his shoulder. "That's still too much!"
"In that case... why try?"
Lawrence stood up and grabbed his gun and aimed it right at his buyer's head. He didn't hesitate to pull the trigger. Three shots were fired; two put into the head of the customer, one in the head of the bodyguard. Their bodies fell backward, hitting the ground with a thud. Lawrence was unbothered by the sight of two dead men.
Caoimhe began to whimper, terrified at the sight she had just witnessed. The sight of death at the hands of her very own father had wiped away the innocence from her brown eyes. The red liquid splattered across the walls made tears begin to form. She was trembling and her whimpers echoed throughout the basement.
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