#abler krill x reader

[babblydrabbly]

Imagine the Squad's Reactions to You Crying || Poly!Squad x Reader

Pairing(s): Select Suicide Squad Members x Neutral!Reader

Characters: Harley Quinn, Boomerang, Bloodsport, Ratcatcher II, Peacemaker, Rick Flag, Polka Dot Man.

Warnings: Language. Hurt/comfort. Some angst. Mentions of suicide (And by that I mean canon typical Abner).

[ A/N: I'm calling them imagines, but I guess they're drabbles too. Really just some indulgent hurt/comfort for my own soft self. Technically canon-divergent; Let's pretend this group is all on some random mission pre-suicide squad 2021. Criminal!Reader. ]

Imagine that Belle Reve has forced you to toughen up, to numb out and ignore everything that made ever made you who you are. On a mission with the suicide squad, out in the world again, it hits you: These are the only times you really feel free anymore— And how laughable is that? The thought seizes you like a punch to the gut, makes you finally break right there in the middle of the mission. You have to excuse yourself from the team when you think no one's looking— just to let the faucet run for a bit in private.

You think you won't hear the end of it if anyone catches you, but you're wrong.

Harley Quinn

"Thought I heard you bawlin' over here." You jump when Harley pushes through the forest brush, unsurprised to see you in your messy state. She's got her arms crossed, and you can't blame her. There's a chill out here cutting right through you too, and you hug your knees closer to your chest when Harley has a seat right down at your feet. "Sorry, I was—" You feel ridiculous, holding back a hiccup. You know your hair is messed up from brushing the wetness away from your eyes, your cheeks ruddy. "I was gonna come right back." Harley snorts, leaning her head down until her temple is resting on your knee. She looks up at you, yawning. It's 0500—Dawn hadn't even broken over the mountains yet— and you still had hours to keep trudging. "Why're you sorry?" You pause at that, blinking the last of your tears away. Harley watches as one of them falls down between the two of you, pursing her lips as she waits for you to answer. You shrug. You've this conversation with Harley before— She knows you inside out by now. Knows you're not the hard criminal you pretended to be out on these things. In fact, she knew you were quite the opposite; When you swiftly broke from the group just to disappear a few feet away, Harley had a feeling you needed a minute. You supposed you were sorry because plenty of people had jumped ship when the going got tough with you— You knew it was the same for Harley too. Your silence, her silence, there wasn't anything more that needed to be said. Harley considers words of encouragement, but you're a tough cookie. —Even if you don't think you are. You liked this moment of quiet anyway. Lifting your hand, you thread your fingers through her hair; It comforts you the way Harley sighs and noses at your knees, her eyes falling closed. "Wake me up when they're done figurin' out what to do next." She mumbles against you. And the task is enough to break you from your downward spiral, her soft breathing all you need to calm your addled mind.

Boomerang

"You back there, [Y/n]?" Harkness had turned to you during the conversation, only to see you had disappeared. He had a crude joke he knew would get you laughing— It seemed like you needed it, the way you'd been acting earlier. He pauses. "—Shit. You alright?" When he sees you sitting there, quickly wiping your red eyes with the palms of your hands, he lets go of the branches he's holding back and waits for you to say something. When you don't, he saunters over as casually as he can muster; George has a feeling making fun of you wouldn't land right this time. You expect him to try cheering you up, but instead, he plops down next to you on the stupid little rock digging uncomfortably into your uniform and nods. "Yeah, fuckin' sucks out here, don't it?" You crack a smile despite yourself. Shaking your head, you tried taking a deep breath. "Actually... I was thinking about how much I love it out here, in spite of it all." You say quietly. You know he meant the mission, the life-or-death stuff. How you get to see the great Pacific Northwest for the first time, and it's all because you've been sent out here to blow some of it up. But you can't help but breathe in the cold pine air— To relish the quiet, living forest around the two of you. Even with his thick trench coat, Harkness is shivering, his arms coming up to rub his own shoulders in an attempt to warm up. You chuckle then. Wrapping your arm around him, he breaks out into that toothy grin of his as he returns the gesture. You let your head fall on his shoulder, a warm feeling flooding you when he lets you without protest. A tender warmth floods George too, the cold night air forgotten. "You ready to fuck some shit up, [L/n]?" He says, patting you on the back after awhile. You roll your eyes, but your shared penchant for chaos makes you you smirk. Dragging yourself back up, you help lift him back onto his feet, laughing when he tries to pull you back down with his weight. "I am now."

Bloodsport

"The hell's wrong with you?" You snort at DuBois' gruff way of showing concern. He's standing there with his helmet at his hip, face twisted in an awkward grimace. "Well?" He tries again when you say nothing. "Since when d'you get all...snuffly?" He comes over and has a seat without an invitation, keeping his eyes over on the rest of the squad through the trees. He lets you finish feeling sorry for yourself, the tears coming to end but still there, still clearly streaking down your red, puffy face. You swallow thickly as the two of you sit in odd silence. When his hand comes to rest on your thigh, warmth still radiating through his glove, a bit of relief washes over you. You always joke that he runs hot— What with all the spite and bitterness that keeps him fueled up. Even now, he doesn't seemed bothered by the weather. Robert lets you take his hand in yours, and your face crumples when his grasp turns over to entwine with your fingers firmly. "It's gonna be alright, love." He says first. He doesn't know why this one's bothering you so much. He's not even sure if it's his place to ask. He considers the details of the missions— Tries to discern if there's something about it that's different this time. When he can't come up with an answer, he simply squeezes your hand again. A small smile ghosts his lips for just a moment before it's gone. You swallow down another hiccup, nodding your head as best you can. "I just... I thought I was so much more than this, you know?" You hear your voice break in your ears. You have to look away again, embarrassed. But your words slice through Robert like a knife— Hit too close to home for him— And his gaze suddenly hardens. "Hey," He says, his voice stern. He brings your hand to his chest, keeping it there against his heart. You look back at him, startled by the sudden fire in his eye. “You fuckin' are, alright? You’re not just this. Don't you fucking forget it."

Ratcatcher II

"[Y/n]? [Y/n], what's wrong?" You startle at the pair of hands that reach down and cup your face without warning. You had only been on one other mission with Cleo Cazo so far. You were apprehensive about making friends with new members— There wasn't enough time to even get to know half them. It wasn't called the Suicide Squad for nothing. But despite the challenges, despite the hardship that came with being on the task force, it never seemed to stop Cleo from being one of the kindest fucking people you'd ever met. It made you a little jealous, the way she stayed so true to herself, even while inside Belle Reve. Your brows knit together when you meet her look of genuine concern, and you rip your face away from her palms abruptly. You feel shame wash over you— Shame over letting this practical stranger see you weak like this. "Nothing." You say, standing back up. You steel yourself from any more prodding, expecting her to say more. You jump again when Cleo wraps her arms around you in a tight hug instead. The gesture almost pisses you off— Almost. But you're still upset. Still not finished feeling sorry for yourself. You feel the waterworks come back with a vengeance at her tender embrace. When your shoulders shake involuntarily, you curse under your breath, tears falling down your cheeks again. Your lip quivers as Cleo pulls away to aim another concerned look at you. "...How do you do it?" You whisper. "Doesn't it break you? Being trapped like this?" Cleo mulls over your words, her thumb stroking your elbow gently. You shiver, gripping her back. "It is hard." She finally admits, matching your quiet voice. "But I just have to remember I'm not alone." You huff, cracking up when Sebastian the rat suddenly pops up over Cleo's shoulder, waving at you. Cleo delights in seeing you cheer up, but still takes a moment to hold your face again. You let her this time, biting back another sob at her touch. "You're not alone either, [Y/n]. I'm here for you." A small squeak. "We're here for you."

Peacemaker

"Jesus fuck!" You nearly shout when you look up and see Smith there in the dark. "How long have you been standing there?" He'd followed you shortly after you broke away from the group. If it had been any other member, he would've been suspicious about how you left without a word. But even though you butted heads, he considered how he knew you pretty well by now— And you weren't stupid enough to desert the task force. At least, he hoped you weren't. When he sees you sitting there, shoulders shaking as you cup your face in your hands, Chris uncharacteristically freezes. He expected plenty— Just not to see you crying quietly. You arch your brow when he clears his throat. "I, uh. You look like you need a minute." He's turning back to step through the brush when you stand, waving him off. "I'm fine." You say. He shoots you a look, stopping; He doesn't buy it. Smith makes his way over to you, planting his feet squarely in your path. "Bullshit." He says simply. "I've seen you take a bullet to the gut. You didn't even cry then." You roll your eyes. "That was probably the shock, Chris." You're one of the few people who call him by his name anymore. It's partly the reason he steps closer, his voice softening as he gets a better look at your face. "What's up, [L/n]? One of these fucker's say something to you?" You shake you head, a chuckle threatening to distract you from your little pity party. "No. It's not them. It's just—" Nope. You can't do it. One more word, and you're going to burst into tears. Again. You bite back a whimper, quickly glancing away. Smith seems to understand then; He wasn't going to pry it out of you if you weren't going to say it. You exhale shakily when a pair of strong arms envelope you in a brief hug. Smith pulls away at arm's length after a moment, nodding at you. "Take your time. I'll let 'em know you need a minute. And— [Y/n]?" You blink up at him. "You can tell me." He tries, his eyes darting away. "Maybe some other time, you can talk to me."

Rick Flag

"[Y/n]?” While the others argued amongst themselves, your team leader notes your absence with just a hair of alarm. He had plenty to worry about during missions— Very rarely did he ever have to worry about you. You glance up to see Rick assessing you silently, and you instantly try to play it off. "I was going to come straight back." You assure him, before anything else. Like he'd actually bring Waller up on the comms and tell her to blow your head off for stepping a few feet away from the group. You almost wish he would just have a squat beside you, but instead he takes one knee, and most of your view with it. You duck your head; You don't know why, but a shame washes over you when Rick looks at you like this. He didn't need another member losing it. He takes your chin in your hand carefully. "What's wrong, [Y/n]?" You brace for the dam to break, your lip a quivering mess. The sight stabs at him. When he sets his rifle down to wrap his arms around you, you can't help the whimper that escapes your throat. "Just tired." You mumble into his shoulder. He lets you cry it out for a few minutes more before you compose yourself. There's nothing he can offer you as a free man— No words that won't sound hypocritical or simply fall short when it came to your situation. "I know that I don't know, [Y/n]. But you don't have to lie to me." You want to fight to keep from falling apart again. So you smile instead, knowing in this quiet moment that he means it. "I'll be okay." You tell him. And the corner of Rick's lips quirk in the sly way of his. "I know you will." He says, finally letting you go. "But I'm here when it's not alright either, understand?" You give him a shitty little salute that makes him crack up. As if to put a point on just how much trust he had in you, he lets you pick up his rifle, nodding when you hand it back to him. "Copy that, Colonel." "Rick." You grin. "Rick."

Polka Dot Man

Abner says nothing when he finds you sitting there, crying to yourself. His steps approach you without making you jump, and you glance away when he has a seat beside you. "...I know. It tends to build, doesn't it." He says for you. Like you've just poured out everything you've been thinking, and you worry briefly that his inter-dimensional powers might include some form of telepathy. Because the look he's giving you when you finally turn your head to him, the utter, shining sympathy on his face makes you wrack with another sob. Your shoulders heaving as you collapsing into a mess again. Normally he’s the nervous wreck. Normally, when the others don’t get why he’s on the brink again, you’re there, soothing him with a gentle bump of your shoulder against his. Your companionable silence was always enough for him— You saw Abner. He tries to return the favor by scooting closer to you. He wasn’t one for touching, so you’re surprised when you feel Abner slip his hand around yours. “Everytime we’re out here, I wonder with baited glee what will finally kill me.” He sighs. You’re glad the others aren’t around, because you can’t imagine what they would say if they saw the way you and Abner exchange wide grins. “A rockslide would be pretty badass.” You throw out casually. You wipe your drying eyes with a sniffle. He chuckles a little at that. “I would have preferred a cold avalanche, but I don’t think there’s enough snow this time of year.” He waits for you to collect yourself without any more, patient as you finally stand. You pull him up with you, holding both his hands there between you for a moment. “You’re right, Ab.” You say. “Let’s make it through this one. There's better ways to die.” Let’s make it through this time, for the hell of it. It’s a silly little promise— one you keep managing to make to each other over and over. This many squad missions later, you wonder what kind of joke someone out there is playing. Abner’s smile lights you up. Sometimes you wonder if he dusts it off just for you. You hoped, anyway.