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7-wonders · 3 years

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The Betrayal (Adrian Chase)

Summary: You find out the truth about what happened to your brother, Rick Flag, at the worst possible time.

Word Count: 2.0k

Notes: This is my first actual Adrian fic! Very angsty, of course, because writing about death is always going to come with angst. Um, warnings for Peacemaker's racist father, talks of death, Adrian being his sociopathic self. Let me know if you guys liked this, wanna see more, or whatever. Would love to chat more about Vigilante; my inbox is always open!

Also should I do an Adrian taglist? IDK let me know that too ig

You've tried to keep your emotions in check in this truck that's stolen from a veterinarian's office, knowing that there's a time for settling personal differences, and that time's not while you're technically on the clock. But as Adebayo tries to apologize about the betrayal of planting a fake diary among Peacemaker's trailer, the words from butterfly-Locke's press conference continue to play over and over in your head.

"In the diary, Smith also confesses to the murder of decorated US Army Colonel Rick Flag, whose death on a covert mission in Corto Maltese was originally believed to be accidentally caused by the collapse of a building known as Jötunheim."

You need to know. A part of you already knows that this is true, what with the way that Chris has been avoiding directly talking to you since the press conference aired. But still, you need it said out loud. Did Chris kill Rick? Was his death not what you were led to believe?

"Actually Chris, I give a fuck," you say, speaking up for the first time all afternoon. "Let's keep talking about this."

Adebayo rolls her eyes. "Not you, too."

"Shut up. Is it true?" You turn your attention on Peacemaker, who looks like he doesn't know what you're referencing. For a second, you think that maybe this was also one of many lies that the diary contained. "Is it true that you killed Rick?"

His face falls, and the breath escapes you all at once. Suddenly, it feels like the day that you found out Rick died all over again.

"It is. Oh fuck, it's true," you say.

"He was going to expose Project Starfish to the world," Peacemaker explains quietly, "and my mission was to make sure that information didn't get out."

"You murdered my brother!" He stares straight ahead, and the only sign of any emotion is the slight trembling in his jaw. "He trusted you. You were his teammate, his fellow soldier, and you murdered him."

Adrian says your name gently, putting a hand on your shoulder to try and defuse the situation from where he's sitting next to you, but there's no going back now. Not when you're seeing red and staring at the man who ripped Rick from your life.

"How did you do it?" you ask, standing up and shoving him in the chest. He doesn't move, but it feels good while you do it. "Did you look at him while he died? Actually, no. I wanna know his last words. What did he say while you watched him die?"

"If it makes you feel better, Rick called Chris a joke," Economos mutters from the front of the truck in what he must think is a reassurance.

Harcourt groans. "Dude, seriously?" You can hardly hear it, though, over the ringing in your ears.

“Oh my god. You knew?” Your voice doesn’t come out nearly as strong as you want it to be, so you walk up to the front to make sure you can confront them directly. “You knew that Peacemaker killed Rick, and you didn’t say anything to me?”

Economos is the first of the two to speak up. “We were given direct orders to—”

“As if you haven’t disobeyed Amanda Waller’s direct orders before. In fact, you disobeyed her orders on that very mission! That's how you ended up here in the first place.” You scoff before turning on Harcourt. “You’re my roommate, Emilia. My friend. You’ve comforted me when I’ve cried about how much I miss Rick, and this whole time…”

"I wanted to tell you," Harcourt says, finally looking at you, "but it just...was never the right time. When was I supposed to bring up that Chris did what he did?"

"I don't know, maybe when I started to trust him? I've been on the same team with the fuckhead who killed Rick without any sort of remorse, and you guys just—just let me go along without knowing the truth!"

They want to try and apologize, you're sure, or at least try to redeem themselves, but you're done. You're completely and utterly done. Turning on your heel, you ignore the way that Adebayo tries to get your attention, and how Chris still refuses to look away from the point on the wall that he's been staring at, and even Adrian when he grabs at your hand. You don't know who knows or doesn't know, and at this point you have no choice but to assume that they were all in on this. Instead, you sit at the very back of the truck, as far away from everybody else as you can be, turn your back on them, and cry as silently as you can.

The team awkwardly tries to resume their regular banter once you arrive at the farm where the cow's being kept, but it's a little hard for humor and sarcasm to land when you can't even look them in the eye. The only one that you're not mad at is Eagly, and even he pisses you off when he naturally doesn't follow commands and drops Peacemaker's sonic boom helmet in the middle of the woods.

"So, how did you find out?" you finally ask Adrian as the two of you work at searching your designated area to find the helmet, the team paired together in twos to fan out through the forest. "Was it as accidental as you joining the team? Or was it something funny for you and Chris to laugh at when he recounted all the people he's killed in the name of 'peace'?"

"I didn't know, actually."

"Oh." You sigh. "Sorry for assuming you knew."

"It's okay. Kinda seemed like I would know, considering Peacemaker's my best friend and all."

You laugh sharply. "Don't tell me you're bitter about not knowing my brother was murdered."

"Yikes, sorry, that was—" he grimaces, "that didn't come out the way that I meant it."

"I get it. My attempt at a joke, I guess."

It's quiet for a few minutes, both of you focused on finding a glint of chrome among the leaves. Finally, you feel like you need to speak. Be it the silence or the fact that Adrian's the only one you can still trust: once the words start, they don't stop.

"It's been a hard few months since Rick died. And then I go on this mission because it's the type of thing that Rick would do, and I start making connections and bonding with the absolute weirdest fucking people I've ever met. Soon enough, I can make it through the day without crying, and it feels like I can finally breathe again. And smile again. And laugh again.

"And now this shit, with the butterflies attacking and Peacemaker's Nazi dad trying to kill us and finding out that my friend killed Rick and my other friends knew about it. I should be mad, but I just keep thinking that I can't be mad, because Rick wouldn't be mad. He was always infuriatingly calm, even when he had every right to get angry."

"Hey, don't cry again," Adrian says awkwardly, removing his mask in what he probably thinks is a comforting way. "C'mon, stand up."

You're about to question what he's seeing when you realize that you're crying again, on your knees in the middle of the forest. Of course, the one person who knows nothing about emotions is the one that you're having a breakdown in front of. Naturally, this makes you cry harder.

In a repeat of earlier, Adrian makes stiff movements and pats your shoulder. "Gentle, nice touching."

"It didn't work with Chris, and it's not gonna work with me," you say, smiling up at him. "Thanks for the effort though."

"Your brother wouldn't want you to be sad." You know he probably saw this on Fargo, but it surprisingly does help.

"I know. But he's also the one who's dead, and he doesn't have to deal with this," you wave your hands in front of you, "this mess that he left behind. He left me here, and now I have to watch my mom be a shell of a person, and how my dad can't say Rick's name without crying. I don't even have Rick to confide in."

"I know what it's like to lose someone," Adrian says, finally sitting down next to you. "My dad left my mom for a dude. We haven't really heard from him in years."

"Damn," you let out a low whistle. "That's rough."

"It's okay, they're very much in love. The whole divorce was really rough for my mom, though. I know it's not the same as someone dying, but I lost my dad, and then I had to watch my mom deal with that. It sucks. I wish I could say something better than 'it gets better', but I can't, because it does. It just...gets better, for everyone involved."

"I'm not forgiving Chris," you say adamantly.

"Nobody said you had to forgive him, or the others." Somehow, that makes you feel better than anything else Adrian's said. You've already been feeling the pressure to forgive him for this heinous thing, and forgive the others for lying about their knowledge of what Chris had done. Even though the outside party giving you permission to feel your feelings is a sociopath, he's still someone whose opinion you care about.

"Thanks, Adrian." Adrian stiffens next to you when you lay your head on his shoulder in thanks, and you stifle a laugh. He's been helpful today. You'll laugh about it tomorrow. "Y'know, you're actually pretty good at giving advice."

"I learned it all from Fargo."

Now you do laugh. "Knew it."

Your comms suddenly crackle to life, and Harcourt gives the news that she and Peacemaker found the helmet. Adrian hops to his feet and, after a moment, offers his hand to help you up. "You ready to go?" he asks.

Dusting yourself off, you look up at him while he slips his mask on and nods. There's a time and a place for you to continue to work through this mess, but that's after getting out of the other, more deadly mess. "Let's go kill us a fucking cow."

#adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase imagine #vigilante #vigilante x reader #peacemaker hbo max #peacemaker hbo #peacemaker #vigilante imagine

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babblydrabbly · 3 years

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you don't have to be more | digger harkness x reader

Digger Harkness x F!Reader Characters: Digger Harkness, Harley Quinn, Rick Flag, Floyd Lawton, Richard Hertz. Warnings: FLUFF. Hurt/comfort if you squint. Language. Canon-Typical Violence. Cuddling. Kissing. Some grinding ngl. Wordcount: 6.5k+ [ A/N: For this request. Oh god, you probably wanted more fluff than this. I truly don't know what came over me. Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for betaing ♥️ ily Also, trying out new headers! Since poor Digger doesn't have too many gifs. But I'm still including text titles at the top so anyone who uses text to voice can know wtf is happening. ] My Masterlist

Anonymous Asked: Please can I request some pining boomer, I need this tough ass to go absurdly soft at reader and have the others roast him for it.

You've spent more than half your life as a vigilante named Night Shade. After a frame job lands you in Belle Reve, you get put on the Suicide Squad almost immediately. Digger Harkness is his usual self around you— and you don't really mind. You never have.

At first, he doesn’t recognize you.

You stand with your arms folded over your chest, your back to the wall of the tent as Colonel Flag goes over the mission objective laid out on a large table. They’d given you your full suit back, but here, at Belle Reve, you’ve held off on putting your armor and mask on until they ship you out.

Digger had tuned out the Colonel’s introductions for the new recruits. He didn’t bother with figuring out who was who anymore. Plenty came and went. It seemed like he, Harley, and just a few others were ever lucky enough to survive mission after mission.

But he does notice your perpetual scowl; how your lips draw down into a tight, pouty little frown, and Digger just can’t resist.

He joins you as everyone exits the airfield tent, wind picking up as the helicrafts start up their engines.

“First go, eh?” He hollers over the whirling blades. You glance over at him.

“What?” You say back.

“Said I never seen you before. Shame.” He flashes you a cocky grin. “If we weren’t about to die, I’d love to have you for a drink.”

You arch a brow at him. Search his face for the hint of a joke. You give him the old once over as the two of you wait your turn to board the carrier. The criminal’s not perturbed when you say nothing and leave him there on the helipad, high and dry. Blackguard comes up to pat Digger on the back with sympathy as he passes, boarding after you.

“Tough, man.”

Your armor is waiting for you on your seat. The other spots are also place marked with various weapons and garb for the others. You hook your chest plate and arm guards on as the others get settled in. And of course Harkness’s spot happens to be across from yours.

His toothy smile returns. You almost have enough time to finish rolling your eyes before you receive a heavy duffel bag to the lap.

“Oof, sorry, doll!” Harley Quinn yells. She yanks the bag off of you and kicks it under the seat, plopping down beside you. When she offers a handshake, she snatches yours up before you can even lift it high.

“What’d they call you? Night Stalker or somethin’?”

You chuckle, “Something like that.”

Harley takes up your attention most of the trip, and it seems to set a rapport with the rest of the squad— if you were in with her, you were in. Even Colonel Flag seemed to glance at you with more recognition as you all lined up for the drop somewhere over the Pacific ocean.

You step to the edge of the door with your mask in hand, eyeing the water down below. A flood of thoughts crest and crash around in your skull, just like the waves beneath you— how you wished you weren’t here. How this wasn’t the time to feel sorry. You’d only been at Belle Reve a few short weeks, and they had plucked you out of your cell in the dead of night with an agenda ready and waiting for you. Waller liked your skillset. There was plenty she had planned for you— if you survived, of course.

From the corner of your vision, you see that your drop buddy is eyeing you up again. Digger saddles up to you with a nod.

“You ready for a shit show, lovely?” He grins.

You smirk at that. You reach up and finally sheath your face with your mask— A white, blank face, with two narrow slits for eyes.

Digger blinks, his grin wiped clean from his features. He looks over your mask, stunned, and the rare moment of silence has you smiling under your Kevlar face. You watch with amusement as it all clicks into place for him.

“Shade?”

“Ready for drop in three!” Flag hollers from the back of the craft.

“Wait—“ Digger reaches for you. “Hey!”

You kick off the platform smugly, plunging into the frigid water without any hesitation. Digger curses as he jumps in after you before he misses the drop zone.

—

“When were you gonna tell me?” He hisses later. You and the others shush him as you sneak your way through the foliage, using the jungle trees as cover. Digger sticks close to you as you clear a path, even though he’s supposed to be paired up with Hertz off to your left.

“You didn’t ask.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know!”

“Shut it, Harkness.” Flag snaps over the comms.

“They caught you. How’d they get you?” He inquires, ignoring everyone. His laxed attitude back on the craft has disappeared, and the more gruff Digger you’re acquainted with refuses to let it go. Before you can answer, you hear the sound of something approaching rapidly. Throwing your arms around the Aussie’s middle, you tackle him to the ground just as a grenade launcher whizzes past, lighting up the greenery around you— and the entire squad’s location.

The mission is hellfire from then on. Digger doesn’t have time to prod you with any more questions, but that doesn’t stop him from gluing himself to your side as the two of you work together. You snatch up one of his boomerangs and fling it into the darkness, ducking to let him catch it as it flies back. By the time the sun rises, the lair you’ve been tasked with infiltrating is a crumbling mess, and you never thought you’d be this relieved to be taken back to prison.

—

Back at Belle Reve, you’re surprised there’s privileges to being a cooperating member of the squad. You throw your tray down onto the metallic table after the latest mission briefing, the rest of the mess hall cleared from lunch a few hours previous. You hunker down beside Harley who chatters away with Lawton on her other side. You’re content to eat in silence for a while, which doesn’t last long.

Digger hikes a leg over the bench to straddle it as he faces you, sliding his own tray til it’s flush with yours. He’s got on a serious face; you kind of wished he was still in a flirty mood. Ever since you got back, you’d been trying to avoid the conversation you know is coming.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He begins. He rests his elbow on the table, crowding your space with his thighs bracketing you, but you refuse to move away. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think anyone wants to be here, Harkness.”

“No yea, but you’re not one of us.” He mutters, “You’re supposed to be out there throwin’ assholes like us into prison. What happened to you?”

You pretend your sloppy joe is somewhat edible, chasing it down with a sip from a carton of orange juice. “I was still breaking laws. Vigilante justice isn’t exactly without it’s own crimes.”

He huffs at that.

—

You were proud of the number of people you’d brought to justice. You had put half your life into training and becoming strong enough to protect yourself in such a dark, difficult world. You knew the risks. Still, it blindsided you the way your choice to take matters into your own hands finally caught up to you.

You were in Australia, tracking down a real piece of shit target fleeing the States when your search led you to Boomerang. You’d been prowling the offices above a diamond exchange; their laundering records would uncover your target’s real identity. And in the process, you crossed paths with Digger Harkness.

He stilled when he sensed your presence. The rest of his crew didn’t notice you in the darkness. You flickered on your high-powered flashlight meant to blind anyone nearby, but at their distance, it simply made a cover for hiding you.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked from under your mask curiously. You were new to Australia, but you didn’t expect to see the pair of actual boomerangs strapped to the man’s chest.

Digger tutted, shielding his eyes. He tried to get a good look at you to no avail.

“Keep working boys, I’ve got the little lady.” He murmured.

You’d fought up and down the corridor, until you had your leg wrapped around his neck and his wrist pinned down to the floor, still holding his weapon. He was an odd mix— a long range weapon paired with belligerent fist-fighting? If the genius just had let you get a word in edgewise, the two of you wouldn’t have had to waste your time.

“I’m not here to stop a bunch of thieves.” You snapped. You couldn’t care less about a generously insured jewel exchange losing it’s diamonds. It took all your bodyweight on his chest to keep the broad, muscular man pinned. You were impressed. You didn’t expect so much strength under the gaudy tracksuit top and trench coat.

He stopped struggling and arched a brow at you instead, “You’re not?”

When he relaxed, you shoved off of him. “No. And I won’t rat if you don’t.”

That made the thief brighten. It’s a complete shift from the man who just tried to slice you to ribbons. “Well then,” He leered. “You don’t sound like you’re from ‘round here, lovely. How’s about I show you a good time?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him against the wall as you passed. “No thanks.”

But your mission had you crossing paths with him again. And again.

Everywhere there was anything worth stealing, there he seemed to be. You nearly had your target under your thumb one night— if you caught him here, right now, in this bank as he made an exchange with the higher-ups running it, you’d have proof of the embezzlement that had been affecting thousands of people there and back home.

You loved the part about being right, but not the part about how the situation going much higher up on the ladder meant you were a little outmatched tonight.

You grunted as another large man twice your size picked you up by the throat and slammed you into a wall of safety deposit boxes. The security guards doubled as henchmen, apparently, already in your target’s pocket. You landed on your feet and evaded another lunge, but when you stood up to take the man out, he was already falling over, unconscious.

You put your hands on your hips. “Is there anywhere you aren’t robbing?” You whisper-hissed at Harkness.

He shrugged, all smiles. “You’re welcome, sweetness.”

“Shut up.” You busied yourself with the guard’s keychain, smothering the quirk of your lips.

Harkness approached you, eyeing the keys. “Go on, share now.”

He couldn’t see you roll your eyes, but you handed him the rest when you took the ones you needed.

“How’s the investigation goin’?”

“Please.” You scoffed. “Go on, play burglar.”

You made to walk away when you felt a finger catch on one of your belt loops. Harkness drew you back, boxing you in against the bank of deposit doors, but this time you’re pressed against them with a soft thud. Harkness planted himself in front of you, his large hands coming to rest on your hips.

“You know, I’m wonderin’,” He murmured beside your head, lips near to your ear. “Been really convenient, you showin’ up to all my heists. If you wanted to spend your nights with me so badly, invitation’s still open, love.”

The last thing you’d ever do while out on your mission is get distracted like this. But you’d be lying to yourself if there wasn’t something about the reckless, idiotic thief that made you want to linger. He was cocky, but once in a while he did get you to laugh.

You pressed a gloved hand to his chest and slid it up tentatively, over the large expanse of firm muscle until it came to settle around his neck. Even through the fabric, you could feel the way his Adam’s apple bobbed under your palm. You tilted your head, and your mask with it, enjoying the way Harkness tried to decipher what you were thinking from beneath your blank face.

His face was always so open, his expressions never hidden from you. He leaned forward, and for a moment you thought he might actually try to press a kiss to the painted kevlar, on the spot right where your lips would be. The thought made your pulse thrum, and you tightened your grip around the Aussie’s neck incrementally, drawing a soft groan from his parted lips.

Another, more pained groan sounded from the unconscious guard on the floor, pulling you from your daze. You pushed Harkness away in an instant, your focus returning to the task at hand. Harkness swore under his breath, and threw a glare down at the man.

“Thanks for nothing, mate.” He snapped, giving the henchman a sharp kick to the stomach, before following you out of the room in a hurry.

You were a little sad to part ways with Digger Harkness after you wrapped up your case a few weeks later. After capturing your target and turning him over to the authorities, you don’t miss the way Harkness, too, seems a little disappointed at your leaving. You had danced around his advances, never really accepting or denying. You weren’t used to distractions, and you knew if you waited it out, your work would decide for you.

He did hit on you one last time, and you let yourself laugh— fully and light-heartedly— at the thief. Pulling him into the shadows of the alley where you say your goodbyes, you lifted off your mask in the darkness halfway, just enough to press your lips against Digger’s in a deep kiss. His shock didn’t last long, arms flying up to wrap around your waist as he returned it. You pressed your body into his, a soft sound escaping you as he lifted you up with ease.

“Hope your work brings you back, lovely.” He murmured when you pulled away, still in his arms. You leaned in again, unable to resist stealing one more kiss from the thief.

“Might get bored and come throw you in jail.” You quipped. Digger heard your voice— your full, unfiltered voice for the first time. He put you back down on the ground, wishing he’d heard more of it while you were still here.

“I’ll be seeing you, Shade.” He hoped.

You were proud of what you did, but eventually, it made the wrong people angry. You went home, picked your work up there again soon after. You chased a lead that took you nearly four years of investigation to gather enough evidence for— when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Police came for you when you weren’t out prowling, in the middle of the day, catching you by surprise.

You were sentenced to Ninety years. Ninety years for witnessing one of the most brutal murders you’d ever seen. You’d been too late to stop it, but when you tried anyway— tried to hope that the victims were still alive by the time you could take out the real murderer— you realized too late that you were outnumbered. The murderer wasn’t just some lone wolf. He’d had connections. And he used them to pin the murders on you. You escaped that night, but when they cuffed you right there, right in the middle of your day job in front of everyone, you knew there was no amount of training or quick thinking to get you out of this one. They knew your real identity, knew everything. He’d finished you with one phone call to the chief of police.

You stayed silent the whole trial, except to plead not guilty. But still you had to sit and watch as the city’s best prosecutors smeared your name and your life’s work in front of the loved ones of the people you had tried to save. The look in their eyes filled you with shame. When the gavel fell and your sentence was announced, you let the numbness spread, let it stay there in your gut all the way to Belle Reve.

You hadn’t killed them yourself, but you didn’t save them either.

—

Digger sits with wide and storming gray eyes as you finally answer his question. It’s the first time you’ve spoken about it since they locked you up, and you avoid his gaze idly. You shove your plastic fork into a small pile of sad looking mashed potatoes, waiting for him to say something.

“That’s bullshit!” He hollers, and you jump, surprised.

When you recover, your eyes fall again. “Yeah, well. Here we are. At least I got to knock off ten years, so far.”

“Yeah, doin’ Waller’s dirty work.” He snorted. “You tried to save those people. Don’t their families fuckin’ know that?”

You should feel comforted by his support— wished you had it when you were going through it alone— but it was too late now. Digger watches your brows knit together. He’s still not used to seeing your actual face. Not used to seeing the way it looks like your eyes are shining like they might brim over with tears as you try your best not to look at the thief.

“Shade…”

“[L/n],” You say, quickly collecting up your tray and standing up. “You can just call me [L/n] from now on.”

Digger stammers out something close to an apology, though what he really wants to do is follow after you as you hurry off. But you have to return to your cell when you’re done, down a corridor they won’t let him follow. He swears, shoving his tray away from himself with a frustrated sigh.

A sad whistle brings him out of his sulk. Digger looks up to see that Floyd and Harley had stopped eating a long time ago, eavesdropping in on your conversation. Both of them offer him cringful expressions.

“That sucked, dude.” Lawton says.

Harley nods sadly. “You really bummed her out, makin’ her explain the whole deal.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you never to ask the quiet ones how they end up in here?”

“Oh, fuck off!” Digger snaps, throwing his tray on the floor. One of the guards immediately moves to mediate before Digger puts up his hands, “Alright, alright. I’m done.” Harley and Floyd burst into laughter as they escort the thief back to his cell, his sour face sending them into even more hysterics on the way out.

—

The next mission would take two weeks, if you were all lucky— and you had a feeling being out in the open that long didn’t sound very lucky.

The squad’s ‘basecamp’ had to keep moving. This recon mission meant you had to pack light, and you shouldered your pack all day, throwing it down in the evenings as members of the squad took turns monitoring a mysterious facility a few clicks away. You hated that you didn’t get to know who was in there or what for— you recorded your findings in the day, and reported to Colonel Flag at dusk, no questions asked.

“Doesn’t seem very deadly.” You mutter. You sit next to Digger on your bedroll, chewing tiredly at your rations.

He snorts as he finishes up his own. “Careful. You’ll jinx us.”

It wasn’t freezing in this climate by any means, but you notice the way Digger hunches his shoulders, looking irritated. He’s got his coat and hat on, but you know him well enough by now that the man was trying to keep from shivering. You smirk a little.

“What is it with you and the cold?” You chuckle. You reach over and tug on the ridiculously wide collar of his trenchcoat. Digger frowns, snatching it back and pulling it over himself snuggly.

“‘S not my fault. Not built for it.” He grumbles.

You set up your bed rolls an appropriate distance away from each other every night, but every morning, it seems as though Digger Harkness is trying to make his way over to you inch by inch. You wake up the next day before him, only to find him sleeping entirely off his mat, in between it and yours. You nudge him awake with your foot carefully, and point out he’d be a lot warmer if he slept off the ground at night.

The night after that, you feel something press between your shoulder blades just as you begin dozing off. Startled, you jerk up, finding Digger off his bed roll again. He snores lightly as his head rests on your mat and you ease your tensed arms. You watch him sleep for a few minutes there in the dark. Eventually, you lie back down, careful not to wake him as you return to your sleeping position, his face nudging the spot between your shoulders again with a sleepy rumble. You don’t move closer to him, but you settle for not pulling away tonight either.

—

During the day, you’re forced to pair up with Harley. It’s a lot of walking, and you’re surprised to find there’s someone in the group who complains more than Digger. Harley Quinn can’t seem to enjoy silence, so you let her fill it up as the two of you traverse the woods.

“So, what’s with you and Boomer?” She finally asks. You’d been waiting for it ever since the day in the mess hall. You grip the straps of your canvas bag awkwardly, wishing you’d kept your mask on instead of leaving it on your hip.

“He talks about his old girls but he don’t ever talk about you.”

“No?” You arch a brow. “Probably because I’m not his old girl.”

“Yeah, well. I figured it either meant that, or...”

“Or?”

When she levels you with a prodding squint, you huff.

“I… met him once. Before Belle Reve.”

“Once?” The crime queen laughed. “Please. You two look like best buds.”

You shrug.

“Or mooore?” She croons, her face getting dangerously close to yours. You scrunch up your nose, willing yourself not to betray anything on your face. God, you wish you had your blank one on.

“Look, I lived in Sydney for a few months. We— crossed paths a lot.”

“I bet you did.” She cackles. She doesn’t seem to mean anything terrible by it besides the obvious, so you let her think what she wants, leaving the topic at that.

—

That night, you grind your teeth as you try to will yourself to sleep. It’s only your second mission, but the week of constantly moving and the threat of someone opening fire at any moment has exhausted you. You keep your arms crossed as you lay on your side, your mind racing with a million anxious thoughts like it always did when you couldn’t sleep— how you wouldn’t be here if you were better, how you were really just a dog now, sleeping out in the cold, waiting for commands. When it was all over, if you lived, they would plop you back in your cell, and you’d still have decades to go.

You’re snapped out of your downward spiral when an arm lands down over your waist. You jump, stopping yourself before you elbow Digger in the face and knock out his teeth. You scowl; maybe you should punch him awake. You’re about to open your mouth to say something when he flexes his arm, dragging you backward across the mat. With a soft yelp, you’re met with Digger’s broad body flush to yours, his bearded face pressing into the nape of your neck.

“Harkness. Digger.” You hiss, poking his arm faintly. Digger mumbles something unintelligible, his arm relaxing again. Still, he’s spooning you in his sleep, without any sign of rolling back over. You sigh.

Shit. It bubbles up in the back of your throat— a sob that you quickly snuff out. You press your lips together pathetically.

The thought of a life sentence in Belle Reve, the thought of the loneliness that came with it— You knew it would be even worse than the loneliness you’d felt even before your sentence. You were like every other vigilante; your secrets had made you keep everyone at arm’s length. Harkness had been the last person you’d ever bothered to let in, however briefly. And here he was, still offering you the affection you never knew how to ask for, even in his sleep.

You carefully lift his arm, settling it back down over your bicep until Digger was hugging you comfortably. You press back against him, drawing a pleased sound out of the slumbering thief. Closing your eyes, you relax, finally letting yourself drift off to sleep too.

—

You’re not plagued by dreams. Instead, you wake up, realizing blearily that you slept through the entire night without stirring. Which was good for your exhaustion, but bad considering the fact that you should be on your toes— what with the suicide mission and all.

You’ve also missed something else, because when you sit up and yawn, you pick up on a joke you’ve just missed.

Harley Quinn is in titters on her bedroll as she hugs her stomach, her laughter bringing her to near tears. Lawton is also doing little to contain himself.

Then you remember Harkness, and how his arm was suddenly very absent. You turn around to look at the thief and come face to face with his beet red expression as he glares over at his friends. He’s already sitting up, flustered, his cap askew on top of his curls.

“I didn’t know koala bears got as big as you, Boomie!” Harley teases in between breaths. “Big ole bear clinging to his tiny little tree.”

“Alright. Alright already!” He snaps. You’re surprised when he gets up, saying nothing as he stalks off into the treeline and away from the rest of you.

You don’t mind Harley’s teasing, but when one of them— the tall lanky one they call Blackguard— tries to ask you if Harkness greeted his little tree with some morning wood, you shoot him a vicious glare, shutting the bleached blond up quickly.

—

Digger drags his heels for the rest of the day. Flag dishes out directives, and Digger rolls his eyes when he hears he’s paired up with Lawton on surveying duty.

His attention is split, halfway between the mission, and you.

Digger had stirred when you shifted his arm last night. He was ready for a jab to the gut, when instead you decided to pull him closer. He opened his eyes faintly, confused, when an odd sound got caught in your throat. He’d heard it before in the mess hall, when you had swallowed thickly and excused yourself from the table.

From his position, he couldn’t see your face. But he’d been memorizing it— every chance he could sneak a look, in the briefing room or out here, where you seemed to not want to wear your usual face anymore. He didn’t mind one bit; he always imagined you with a pretty face he could stare at all day under all that Kevlar. And he was thrilled to find out he was right.

But Digger had a feeling. There was a reason you didn’t want to wear it anymore.

A pang of guilt hit him; he always figured only the people closest to you ever got to see your real face. He’d never been one of those people, as hard as he tried in his own way, back in Sydney. Belle Reve stripping you of your uniform and mask by force didn’t feel like he’d won the right to finally know who you were.

It just felt like another thing he’d stolen.

He listened as you squashed whatever emotion tried to overwhelm you. Digger stayed utterly still as you settled back against his front, your warmth radiating through all the many layers between you. He felt the way his ears flush and heat up against the cold night air, but he didn’t dare break this spell that had come over you by being his usual, overbearing self.

You seemed to drop off to sleep soon after that, and Digger finally let himself press his face to your neck carefully, committing the feeling of you in his arms to memory with a hum.

“—Have you even heard a goddamn word I’ve said, Boomerang?” Colonel Flag scowls. He taps a finger against the butt of a rifle slung across his chest irritably.

“Yeah, yeah. Take a lap around the base and let Lawton do the picture taking. What the fuck else is new.” Digger waves off.

“And rest up early when you get back.” Flag adds, ”I’m putting you and [L/n] on the midnight watch this rotation.”

Digger blinks, “— What? Why?”

“You’re really gonna complain, man?” Lawton drawls as he waits for the two other men to wrap up. Digger smothers his grin as he hurries after the marksman, ignoring the way Flag shouts a few more last minute orders after them.

—

As it turns out, the usual pair who had been taking the midnight watch on this mission had been compromised. Something about an old landmine on the other side of the base and an unfortunate misstep. You were all down two squad members, and now everyone’s duties were being shifted around.

You sigh loudly as you stop in front of Harkness, throwing your pack on the ground beside him. He sits on the sloping forest floor, binoculars in hand, your little stake out area all ready for your late night shift.

“How’s the watch?” You greet, taking a seat beside the Aussie. You snatch up the binoculars from Digger and aim it at the facility.

He mumbles something gruffly.

“Hm?”

“Said I’m tired of this fuckin’ weather!” He gripes.

In reality, Digger’s been nervous of you approaching ever since he set up about an hour earlier. He couldn’t get any of the rest Flag recommended— Not while it was cold, and not when the realization that he’d be spending the entire evening with you alone hit him.

Fuck! He’d looked like a fucking moron clinging to you this morning.

Your soft chuckle draws you from his bitter thoughts. “You want my jacket?”

Digger rolls his eyes, but quirks a smile all the same. “Fuck off.”

“I can see you shivering from here.”

He waves you off. Putting the binoculars’ strap around your neck, you stand and brush the bark and moss from yourself before kicking Digger’s ankle. He gives you a questioning look as you do it again, waiting for him to get the hint.

His confusion soon melts into surprise. His eyebrows shoot up as you turn, taking a seat down snuggly between his knees.

Reaching behind yourself, you tug Digger’s coat open, pulling the large edges around yourself. It takes a little shifting around, but soon the two of you are tucked comfortably inside his jacket, your back pressed squarely to his broad chest.

Digger thinks his lip might split the way he can’t stop grinning. He rests his chin on your shoulder, any hesitancy about touching you totally evaporating. You sigh as he draws around you, his large arms enveloping your entire middle. The two of you fall silent as you let the shared heat generate and warm you both up. You stay like that for an hour, then two, only shifting to stretch a muscle here or there, but always returning to the warmth of Digger’s coat.

“I, er— about this morning.” Digger mumbles after a while. You’d been so content where you were you realize you'd almost nodded off for a moment. You turn your head sleepily, and in doing so are met with his cheek pressed against yours. “They’re assholes.”

You tilt your head, rubbing your cheek against his beard. “They can have their fun.” You muse. It’s true— you didn’t mind Harley or Lawton one bit. You had your own reservations about opening up; but they had nothing to do with it. You rarely cared about what other people thought or assumed. You’re about to propose that the two of you can have your own fun, when the tip of Digger’s nose finds yours by accident, and you burst into laughter at how cold it is. You quickly muffle it, what with the covert operation still going on.

“What?” The Aussie whined. He slips his hand into the coat, snaking his fingers underneath as many layers as he can find. You yelp.

“Fucking freezing.” The shock of his cold palm to your stomach makes you wriggle against him, clamping a hand down over his. “You bastard.”

A grin presses to your neck. “But you’re so toasty. Perfect place to warm my hands up.”

You’ve given him what he wanted, your head falling back onto his shoulder as you tried to squirm away. Digger takes the opportunity to press a kiss to your lips.

You gasp, stilling, but soon relax against his bold touch. You let your eyes flutter close, your muscles relaxing as you kiss him back.

Digger’s hand warms quickly against your flushed skin as his thumb draws idle patterns on your stomach. You move your mouth against his carefully, and he’s content to let you set the pace. Ever since you’d turned up, you’d been all Digger could think about back in his cell alone, his thoughts drifting to the typical, cocky ideas he had— But he also dared to imagine you’d want to continue the fleeting, tentative thing you had shared over four years before. He felt pathetic, still clinging to the memory of that goodbye kiss. But it wasn’t anything like his usual dalliances. You were something special. Something much better than he was.

You feel the pull of Digger’s mouth turning into a frown. You open your eyes gently to see him scowling as he opens his.

“What’s wrong?” You murmur, your hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. He shakes his head.

“Nothin’.” He says. “You just… never came back. Figured you didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?” You press on, pulling back to search his face.

But you can put it together yourself. His expression is an open book to you, as it always has been.

“I got caught up in my work.” You confess. “I always do.”

He huffs. “Don’t I know it.”

“But I— I saw you keeping busy too,” You tease, biting back a grin. “Finally hit up every bank in Australia. Fucking ridiculous.”

“Yeah, you were keepin’ tabs on me?” Digger’s smile widens.

“Maybe.”

“Then… Did y’know I came over?” He finally asks, after a moment. “Cleaned out a few U.S. banks too.”

“I heard,” But then, more somberly, “Heard you got picked up.”

And a little time later, you did too. It never crossed your mind they would ship you off to the same place that held Digger. You sigh as you let your head rest on his shoulder again. “Not that I minded.”

“Hey.”

“—Because… I think I’d have honestly gone insane if you weren’t here.” You finish. And you watch the way his affronted expression shifts back into that pleased, soft look he gives you so often— the one he thinks you don’t notice when you’re not looking.

You thread your fingers through his curls and drag him back down for another kiss. It’s more searing this time, one you hope makes up for all the times you’ve pushed him away.

Digger groans. He curls around you further, his hand sliding over your skin as he parts his lips. He pushes his tongue into your mouth and it meets yours with a hot swipe. You part for him in return, shivering as the two of you begin to suck and lick into each other’s mouths with more zeal, the binoculars and mission forgotten for a moment.

“Shade…” He murmurs. And you forget that you wanted to put that name away— wanted to throw your mask into the ocean and never call yourself that again. You didn’t deserve the persona anymore. But you’d missed the way his little nickname for you sounded on his tongue. You swipe at it again, taste it. Maybe you didn’t mind keeping the name if he was the one saying it.

Digger draws a moan from you when the hand beneath your shirt drifts upward, his palm closing over your breast. He kneads it slowly, fingers pressing together to pull the flesh under his touch firm. You lean back more. You push against the ground with your heel as you try to make any space between the two of you disappear. The Aussie makes another deep growl against your mouth when you tilt your hips, the motion making you rear brush up against his groin. Digger grinds back against you without hesitation. You don’t think it’s possible for him to squeeze his arms around you any tighter, but he does. You whimper when he lifts you off the ground, onto his lap where he can roll his hips against you with more of that slow, heated rhythm.

An incredibly awkward cough rings out.

You gasp, yanking away from Digger.

Colonel Flag stands a few feet away from the two of you with Lawton at his side. You feel yourself flush as Digger feels more inclined to roll his eyes.

“Oh, what now.” Digger snaps.

“Rotation. We’re here to uh, relieve you.”

Flag has the decency to look away while you remove yourself from Digger’s lap. Lawton, on the other hand, snorts at Flag’s mention of ‘relief’.

“Koala’s too busy clinging to his tree again.” He chuckles.

Digger scowls as he stands up. He makes sure to close up his trenchcoat over his front as he collects himself.

“That’s racist, mate.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “Man, shut up and get back to camp. Before she doesn’t feel like cuddling up to you no more.” He adds pointedly.

Flag nods at you curtly while you hurry by with an apology, and Digger soon follows after you.

You wait until you’re both out of the Colonel and Deadshot’s sight, before you grab Digger’s hand and pull him against a tree. You allow him to crowd you against it, grinning up at him as you take both his lapels in your grasp.

“So grouchy all of a sudden.” You tease. You lean up on your toes to kiss Digger’s frown away.

“Everyone and their mother’s always interruptin’ me when I finally get you alone. You ever notice that?” He complains, and you definitely don’t consider it a pout.

“Well, no one’s around right now.” You point out. You slip your hands into his coat again, hooking your fingers into his waistband. When you pull him closer, Digger grunts at the way your knee slides up between his legs, your thigh meeting his middle, where he’s still hard from earlier. You arch a brow at him. “We don’t have to head back to camp right away, do we?”

The Aussie flashes you a megawatt grin so bright you think his gold tooth might light up. He leans down and captures your lips again. As he kisses you, he reaches down and plucks you up easily, his hands cupping the back of your thighs until your legs are wrapped around his waist, your back to the tree.

He pulls away for a moment to take another look at your face— how it’s bare, open, and staring back at him with more affection than he ever let himself imagine.

“Think I’m a bad influence on you, love.”

You grin. “Oh, please. Like I always followed the rules.”

#digger harkness x reader #digger harkness x you #digger harkness #captain boomerang #digger harkness fanfiction #captain boomerang fanfiction #mywords*#tss imagines #dceu fluff #dceu fanfiction

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anniesocsandgeneralstore · 3 years

Text

If I Go Universe - Birthday Breakfast (Rick Flag x OC)

Summary: Rick Flag likes to spoil his girl, especially on her birthday - especially when he's gonna be gone for most of it.

Pairing: Rick Flag x OC (Delphia Holman)

Word Count: 997

Warnings: fluffffff but also a bit of suggestive language, sorry - that's all I write now

Timeline: March 2017 (so about a year into them starting dating)

if i go masterlist

A/N: My first Writer Wednesday! @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape I hope you guys like it!

It was early on a Tuesday morning. Very early, in fact. The sun wasn’t up and even the birds weren’t awake at that hour. But Rick Flag had a job to do and he was going to see it done. Even if it was a job that he had given himself. One that he kind of regretted when his alarm went off that morning - but he was determined.

Determined to make Delphia’s first birthday with him as her boyfriend the best one she had ever had. Especially since he was leaving for a three-day mission that afternoon and wouldn’t be there for most of it. So he was going to make the most of the time they had together.

He turned off his alarm as quickly as he could so as not to wake her. And when he checked to make sure she hadn’t stirred, he had to smile. She certainly wasn’t the prettiest thing when she was sleeping. Head thrown back against her pillow, body all curled up in a weird position that he couldn’t imagine was comfortable, mouth hanging open, and he could even see the faint glint of drool on her chin. God, but he loved it though. He loved that fire-red hair splayed out on her pillow. That hint of drool on her chin. That hand that stretched out in her sleep to grab hold of him. To make him stay.

But he had to go. No matter how much he just wanted to pull her into him and go back to sleep.

Throwing on some basketball shorts, he went out to the kitchen and started up the stove and the coffee pot.

He had met her adoptive parents last week. A spur-of-the-moment thing that Delphia had found exceptionally awkward because she had forgotten they were coming to visit — and she had yet to tell them that she had moved in with “that Army Colonel of hers” as they liked to call him. Rick had found the whole thing entertaining as well as enlightening. They told him everything. And most of the time he didn’t even have to ask.

She only likes shopping for other people, not herself. She needs time to socially recharge. Sometimes, when she’s busy, she’ll forget to eat so you’ll have to remind her. She had a fear of clowns as a kid. They called her Ducky because when she first learned to walk, she walked like a duck — feet turned in and waddling from side to side — but he wasn’t allowed to call her that.

And on special occasions, she liked pancakes for breakfast.

Sipping on his morning coffee with cream, Rick made pancakes. A giant plate full of them. And once they were all done, it wasn’t the most beautiful thing, but he thought it worked just fine. He got out the candles and placed them at random. Really unsure if there was a proper place to put them or not in pancakes. He burnt himself a few times trying to light them, but that was okay. And once they were all lit, he carefully picked up the plate and began walking it back to the bedroom.

Delphia was already awake by the time he gently opened the door. She was sitting up in bed, rubbing at one eye like a tired child while her free hand absently patted his empty spot on the bed.

“Rick?” she mumbled sleepily, eyes barely cracked open enough to see him.

“Mornin’, baby girl.” He grinned at her as he came further into the room. “Happy Birthday.”

Blinking her eyes a few more times, she finally seemed to notice the glowing plate of pancakes in his hand and she smiled. A lopsided thing that made his heart feel like it was gonna beat right out of his chest.

“You made me pancakes?” she asked as he set the plate down on the bed in front of her.

“Course, baby.” Rick knelt down on the floor at the side of the bed, affectionately tucking a strand of her crazy bed head behind her ear. “Now you better blow those out before the wax starts drippin’ everywhere.”

Delphia closed her eyes with a smile, held back her hair, and blew out her candles.

“What’d you wish for?” he asked quietly.

She wouldn’t look at him as she pulled a pancake from the bottom of the stack, where they were the warmest, and took a bite out of it. Rick furrowed his brows as he watched her. It was an innocent enough question. Surely she didn’t still believe that if she told him her wish wouldn’t come true. Then she glanced up at him and sighed.

“Just…you to come home safe,” she muttered around her bite of pancake.

“Hey — “ Rick took hold of her cheek and forced her to look him in the eye. “I’ll always come back to you — always.”

Delphia smiled and nodded, giving the inside of his wrist a peck of her lips. It made every last inch of his skin shiver. How did this happen? How had she taken hold of him so quickly? But Delphia Holman held his very heart in her hands. She held it lovingly, caringly, strongly, gently — without a knife to threaten it or a waiver to her fingers. She didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. And he wasn’t planning on letting her.

“Do you wanna know…What else I wished for?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes as she moved the pancakes to the bedside table.

Rick cocked his head to one side. From the look on her face, he had some inclination. But he wanted to hear her say it.

“What?”

She leaned in close. Her breath was warm against his cheek as she gently placed her hand around his throat. He gulped, leaning forward into her touch as his own hand against her face twitched.

“You let me give the orders for once.”

“Anything for the birthday girl.”

Taglist (if you like to be added for future installments just let me know): @bbygrgu @vvola13 @slayerx147 @xoxabs88xox @kasey-puff @witchygagirl @the-pink-petite-princess @blooo0ooop @woodlandmouth @csigeoblue @rexorangecouny @h-hxgirl @thisisthewayrose @blondiekook @darkestbeforethedawn16

#writer wednesday #rick flag #rick flag imagine #rick flag x delphia holman #rick flag x oc #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag fanfic #suicide squad fanfiction #suicide squad imagine #suicide squad fic #the suicide squad #joel kinnaman #joel kinnaman imagine #if i go universe #dceu oc #dceu imagine #dceu fanfiction #dceu fanfic #dceu fic

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Note

Hey, I'm the 3word anon! I guess to make this easier, you call call me 📚🌻

I just wanted to say that you did an amazing job! I loved reading what you've done! You said that you wanted more words so here it is your next words: tradition, needle and tribute

Love, 📚🌻

I'm so glad you liked it dear 📚🌻 ! I absolutely love this challenge and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it hehe. Hope you enjoy this one too!

Freedom

Pairing: Rick Flag x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of injury Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Romance, Humor

“Flag, I have someone coming on-board with you.“ Waller’s voice comes in through the radio of the jet colonel Rick Flag was about to take off with, taking the Suicide Squad on their newly assigned mission.

He rolls his eyes, engine of the jet roaring to signal it’s ready to lose contact with the ground and rise up into the skies - much like Rick, who’s already fed up with the Squad’s members who are explicitly annoying and pesky today, promising him a ton of headaches in the near future. With that in mind, these news Waller has given him so suddenly, he’s not particularly excited to welcome another lunatic on the jet. Another lunatic to deal with.

“Who the hell are you sending? Don’t you think my hands are already full enough?!“ He yells at the top of his lungs in order for his voice to overpower the engine’s loudness.

“I’m here to help you, you ungrateful piece of shit!“ This voice, familiar voice, doesn’t emerge from the radio, instead it’s coming from right behind him and is equally as strained as his due to the loud, ear-bleeding surroundings.

Before Rick can even comprehend the presence of another person, said person gets seated on the copilot’s seat, equipping a pair of headphones so the two can communicate without pushing their lungs to the brink of giving out.

“What the hell are you doing here, L/N?“ He asks, his eyes unable to hide even a little bit of the confusion that the girl’s presence has brought upon him.

Contrary to his seriousness and shock, the girl gives him a bright, almost teasing smile, “Oh come on, Flag. I have a soft spot for you, you know, I like helping you.“ She tilts her head ever so slightly, “And I don’t feel like giving Waller the pleasure of detonating this bomb at the back of my neck.“

“Thought so.“ He scoffs, watching Y/N’s movements out of the corner of his eye as she straps herself in.

She rolls her eyes, cracking her knuckles before turning to him, deciding to pick up on this petty war, just to make matters worse for Rick and more amusing for herself, “Aren’t you gonna shoot me? I mean, it’s our tradition.”

Rick cringes, recalling the exact event - or rather events, plural - she’s referring to: the night he arrested her and a few others, all henchmen of the Joker. Unlike her co-workers however, Y/N put up one hell of a fight while those fuckers chose flight. Their decision didn’t get them far while hers led her to the hospital wing of the Belle Reve prison, a bullet in her side fired at her by colonel Flag. Seeing the report files on the altercation, Waller immediately knew the girl was something else and recruited her for the Suicide Squad.

Unfortunately, her first instinct when her eyes first landed upon the colonel was to pounce at him, despite her low chances of succeeding in her intentions considering there were guards and soldiers literally everywhere, all with guns ready to fire. Yet still, Flag was the one who shot her yet again, this time less dangerously close to fatal.

Yeah, she has a right to be pissed and a right to call it their tradition, but it’s also safe to say that their dynamic has improved. They went on to go on a few more missions together without any complications or unwanted altercations. Sure, there were snide remarks and petty comments here and there, but those could be considered compliments when compared to the shootings.

“When are you gonna let that go?“ Rick snaps, his eyes remaining fixated ahead while the jet slowly ascends, “I got you off the streets. I freed you from that psychopath. The last thing you should be is mad!”

There is a long pause between the two, leading Rick to sneak a glance at his co-pilot. She appears to be deep in thought, staring ahead much like he’s supposed to be doing right now. She doesn’t seem like she’s conjuring up a sarcastic response which would be totally up her alley, but oddly enough she seems to be genuinely thinking about what he said. He starts feeling a bit shitty for having snapped at her like that - she wasn’t completely wrong to keep rubbing it in his face, she did suffer two gunshot wounds from him, after all.

“I’m not mad.“ Y/N finally speaks up, not sparing him as much as a look, “I’m grateful. The Joker isn’t the only thing I was trying to escape. One half the day I was doing his dirty work, the other half I had a needle stuck in my arm or was out cold in a drug induced half-coma.“ This time she does turn to take in the expression change that’s happened on his face and she seems pleased with the shock and confusion she sees. “Bet you didn’t know that, did ya?“ Contemplating her next move for a second, she plays with the belts of her bulletproof vest and gear before seemingly deciding on what to do. Her fingers quickly undo the belts and buttons of the gear that’s covering her torso, removing the strong and dense protective material to expose the skin of her side where there’s a scar where she had to have surgery to get the bullet removed. Around the scar there’s a tattoo of a peculiar looking flower, masking the line as a part of itself, “I got that tattoo as a reminder of that night. A tribute to more than one freedom coming to me at once.” She quickly readjusts her gear, and slumps into the seat with a sigh of a deflating balloon. “No longer a slave, no longer an addict. Though, addicts are slaves too - slaves to our own brain’s dependency on a substance that’s destroying us.”

Rick is at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting that, never did he think Y/N was an addict as well prior to being a henchwoman and then a prisoner. That’s probably due to the fact that she’s always been in a great physical shape, ready to take on the enemy whenever and wherever. “Damn, fucking hell, I’m sorry you had to go through that, Y/N...“ He really doesn’t know what’s there to say when he now feels even shittier than he did before.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels her hand on his bicep, “I would still be going through it if it wasn’t for you. In fact, come to think of it, I should apologize for pouncing at you like that when all you did was do me a favor.” She giggles quietly before adding, “But I won’t.”

He too allows himself a small laugh, “I wasn’t expecting you to.“

Of course he wasn’t, he’s come to know her well. And he also knows it’s nothing personal - Y/N is simply not the type of girl who apologizes. That he can stomach, but imagining his co-pilot seat unoccupied on the way back from this mission he cannot.

Damn it, Flag. God fucking damn you, you’ve done it again haven’t you, he asks himself, knowing the answer perfectly well already.

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temptressofwaikiki · 3 years

Text

(N)SFW Alphabet: Rick Flag

Pairing: Rick Flag x reader

Warnings: Just to be safe let’s warn for brief mentions of cum eating, rimming, mildly drunk s*x, ass biting, various role playing with toys are mentioned but nothing is really described in detail. It should go without saying but minors - do not read this.

Note: I did try to keep the reader as ambiguous and inclusive as possible, if I missed something, please let me know! I’m always up for suggestions.

Note 1.5: I did read through this but please ignore all spelling errors. I will undoubtedly find one immediately after posting. 🤣

Note 2: dedicated to @lunaserenade who is having a day, and to Oscar Isaac for blessing us. Thank you, it was much appreciated and giffed.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He would like to say he’s a perfect gentleman, making sure you’re good (& we know you are 😉) but this is one of the few times he’s fully relaxed, so you give him a pass for falling asleep within 3 minutes.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For a time he would’ve said his hands were his favourite, given all they can do for you (and to you for that matter) but after years in the military and what he’s done, he prefers his arms - especially when you’re in them.

As for your body, he loves every inch of you but if he had to pick one place to kiss for the rest his life, he’d pick your neck. Something about the tilt of your head, the trust you’re showing him by exposing yourself, it’s something he treasures.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

A gracious plenty, and while he loves when you swallow it (and you do try to take it all but he’s certainly more than a mouthful), he loves it just a little bit more when you wear it.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The man isn’t shy about telling you what he likes, and how you make him feel. However, under extreme duress or an absurd amount of alcohol, he might admit to being curious about you tossing his salad*.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s no chaste virgin but he doesn’t have a Rolodex of previous partners.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

While he’s a fan of you on your hands and knees, or good ole dependable missionary. He loves it when you’re on top and in control. He has to wrangle criminals in high stress situations for a living, sometimes he likes not having to control all the variables, and it’s a luxury to have someone take care of him for a change.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He can be serious, and intense, and make your body quiver when he has you up against the wall, but give him a few drinks or catch him after a particularly good day? Well you might just end with bite marks on your ass, and vague memories of a cowboy hat, laughter, and an instance where you both rolled off the bed and he still kept going.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Lightly groomed, he’s considerate but it’s nothing fancy.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He can joke around, make you laugh, or look at you so intensely you wonder if you’re going to be able to sit tomorrow, but you know that when it’s just the two of you together? It really is just the two of you. He’s not letting his job seep into these moments he gets with you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He definitely jacks off. How frequently really depends on how stressed he is, and if he’s single at the time.

One time, you’d been asleep when he got home, and while he was definitely interested in the skin exposed by sheet bunched at your waist, he didn’t want to wake you. He knew a good night’s rest was hard to come by for the both of you, so he decided to take care of things in the shower. The fact you were tired the next morning was entirely your own fault, since you were the one who woke up, caught a peek at the show, and decided to join him.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He loves it when you start to kiss down his chest and then switch to biting and sucking at his nipples. Preferably when he’s on his back and his hands are tied above his head. If you decide to leave him tied up while you sit on top of him and get yourself off? Well he might just have to put a ring on it.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He’s a simple guy, and prefers the bedroom because his favourite place (other than between your thighs) is his bed. But if he happens to catch you in the kitchen, shower, or like that one time in the supply closet in the Belle Reve infirmary, well he can recognize an opportunity when he sees one.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He’s a slutty drunk, just putting that out there. If he’s had a few shots but still able to make decisions, he’s gonna find any excuse to get close to you. Drape his arm around you while you sit, pull your hips against his if you’re dancing, or just flat out ask you to join him in the bathroom.

However if he’s stone cold sober and sees you taking control of a chaotic situation or pulling one over on Waller? You’re getting it good tonight, or in like 5 minutes if the danger has past and there’s somewhere with privacy nearby.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything to do with non-consensual fantasies. It’s a hard no from him.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

You can’t tell me this man doesn’t love to go down on you like you’re a steak dinner, and he’s fucking starving.

In fact, it might just be his favourite goddamn thing. He can be cooking breakfast, watching the Super-Bowl, or polishing his golf clubs, but if you slide up next to him, kiss him sweetly, and then guide his hand between your legs, well I guess you’re having burnt eggs for breakfast. Enjoy.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to take it slow, teasingly slow (to start with at least). It’ll start with his arm around you while you’re seated in a bar, his fingers brushing down your sides, and his face pressed into your neck, his warm breath and even warmer lips distracting you. Once he has you good and ready, then he might up the pace.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

While he won’t say no to a quickie, he likes the build up as much as the main course. He loves the teasing touches, the filthy comments whispered in your ear that warm your face, and feeling the anticipation build between you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

As long as you’re both okay with it, have a safeword in play, and it doesn’t conflict with anyone’s *hard no*? He’d be up for just about anything. He firmly believes sex should be intimate but fun - that it’s a time to be close with you, exploring each others bodies, and seeing all the ways they can be pleasured.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

To be honest, he’s not in his 20s anymore and he’s learned to appreciate the anticipation and build up of sensation. He’s good for one round, maybe two. He’d rather focus on beating his personal record of how many times he can get you off in a night. He’s a bit competitive with himself.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He enjoys watching you get off, and you like putting on a show for him. If you asked him to take control and to use it on you, he might just count his lucky stars.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Two words, Cheeky fucker. He’s like tease you, pull you right to the edge, and then pull back. He’ll let you hover there for a few minutes, a couple of hours (and on one occasion a whole day) before following through.

It’s not that he wants you to suffer, it’s just he wants you so ready for that pulse between your legs, the warm flush across your skin, and your heart thrumming in your ears - that you beg him for it (or you get tired of his shit, push him on the bed and use him like one of your toys. He’s not sure which outcome he prefers)

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

While he can be quiet and intense when the occasion calls for it, he’s a fan of praise. Telling you how good you feel, and how amazing you make him feel.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He can get behind role play. When you both figured out you liked bring props and costumes into the bedroom, you turned it into a sort of game night. Characters and situations written on slips of paper, and when you’re feeling extra playful, you’ll draw paper from the suggestion jar.

Sometimes the combinations can lead to ridiculous but hilarious role play, like a sexy police officer and a full body skeleton costume. There were a lot of CSI jokes that night.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

🙌🏼 he has been blessed with a nice sizeable dick, and you’ve been blessed with the opportunity to show how much you appreciate it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

If you’ve been apart awhile, this man will find any reason to put his hands on you. On one memorable occasion, you’d barely made it out of the Belle Reve parking lot before he was reaching over to palm your sex, his face relaxed as he continued down the road while his fingers slipped beneath your waistband.

He may have also stuck his fingers in his mouth afterwards, something about tasting how much you missed him.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

See A

* salad tossing is a term for rimming, basically he’s curious about his ass and your mouth. 😘

#colonel rick flag #rick flag headcanon #rick flag x you #colonel rick flag x reader #rick flag x y/n #rick flag x reader

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fandomwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

Rewind

Rick Flag x you

Rated T

~6.5k words (I could not turn it into chapters, it didn't work out right)

Warnings: canon typical violence

I highly recommend listening to this song because it is very epic and I listened to it while I wrote the dramatic end scene.

You were a petty thief, a modern Robin Hood; you stole from the one percent to gave to the needy. And you know what? More often than not, the one percenters never even noticed. And every time you got caught you used your powers to get out of the situation. However, you knew a day was coming when you wouldn’t be able to get out of a nasty situation. A feeling of dread was filling up your nightmares and seeping into your waking life. You were filled with anxiety that your next job would be your last. Of course, it was never an issue with your powers. That is, until it became an issue.

You were doing a job in Gotham, a shitty city if you did say so yourself. Nothing like the country home you grew up in. You knew the ins and outs of the city bank. You knew the guard schedules, you knew the camera angles, you knew the passcodes, you knew which day your target would be inside. Bruce Wayne. Local billionaire who wasted his time and money hosting galas for the rich and famous. You loathed the idea of him. He wouldn’t notice a couple million getting lost in the shuffle. You knew everything that Gotham City Bank had to offer. But what you didn’t know would get you caught and sent to a metahuman prison. What you didn’t know was why you’d been feeling the dread of this job creep up on you for weeks. You had a bad feeling about it, more than the rest. So when you walked in, in disguise, you thought nothing of the exhaustion and weakness that filled your body.

You’d barely slept the night before, so it was normal. And this wasn’t a cash job, it was all wire transfers. But Wayne had to be there for the biometrics to work. Unfortunately, he knew all about your little job. He knew and he had you caught. You were confused, at first, when all you saw when you walked in was an empty bank. It was just the tellers looking at you nervously, but there was a swish behind you and you whipped around, military training coming back to you from your brief time in the army as you took a fighting stance to see… the Batman?

“The Masked Marauder,” he mocked you in his autotuned voice. You scoffed, two could play at that game. You were posing as a man today, trying to throw the trail off of yourself. You turned on your voice modulator and laughed haughtily at him.

“The Batman. Fancy seeing you here,” you were unsure as to how Batman was involved with Wayne Enterprises, but you had no doubt he was there for you.

“Feeling a little weak yet? I can see you straining,” you were on guard as he approached you, coming close enough that you could see the stubble on his chin. If you could turn him around so you were closer to the doors you could use your powers to get out of there and make a quick escape. It was easier to change your own position with your powers and not an entire scene, but you could do it if need be.

But he was onto something. You did feel weak. You were tired, your limbs heavy.

“What did you do to me?” You asked, shifting on your feet but trying to keep the charade up. You were masked and cloaked, but he had a nerve-wracking effect on you.

“It’s new technology. Power blockers at every entrance. You’re powerless inside this place,” at his words you backed up, falling weakly towards the ground as your powers were seeping out of you. You tried to use them to get out of this situation, breath shaking and palms sweaty as the seriousness of the situation dawned on you. You were well and truly screwed.

It was only moments before the GCPD came and fixed you with a power-blocking collar, chaining you up in an armored vehicle and sending you on a long trip to Louisiana. You had no next of kin to notify, no friends to take care of your apartment. You were alone.

Belle Reve was a hell of a place. You were brought in under the cover of nightfall and were only given a brief explanation of the situation. You were in a metahuman prison. You had less rights than normal humans. You were being tried for multiple robberies and the associated injuries that people had gained when fighting back against you. You’d never killed anyone, not since the army, but it didn’t matter. The crimes had stacked up. You were looking at forty years in this place.

When they threw you into the cell you were going to stay in, you were relieved to see there was only one bed and it wasn’t occupied. Solitude, at least, was your friend. You could think. You’d have thought it would be less time in prison since you hadn’t killed anybody, but it didn’t seem like it mattered. You shrugged to yourself. It’s not that you had issues killing people, you were in a special metahuman unit in the army before you became the Masked Marauder. You had a different codename then, but working with them had made you a little crazy. You had to see your close friends and colleagues treated with less respect than dirt because of their metahuman status, and you had to see most of them killed in action. You barely made it out, and you came out with a raging hard on for disrespecting authority figures.

You were only in Belle Reve for six days before you met Harley Quinn.

“Live fast, die hard, baby. You gotta do what you gotta do,” was something you heard a lot out of her smirking mouth. If you were in another life, you’d have been instantly attracted to the beautiful blonde, but you had enough crazy in you to not want any more on your plate. Despite the lack of romance between the two of you, you still got close. “As thick as thieves,” Harley would say with a wry twist to her mouth. She loved puns.

“Chronos?” You whipped your head around at the sound of your military nickname. “What the fuck are you doing here you little slut?” Your eyes widened as you recognized one of your previous teammates. Another bad egg, turned away from the army and towards a life of crime.

“Who’s Chronos?” Harley frowned next to you at the lunch table you were at, she hated not knowing things.

“That’s what they used to call me,” you whispered, standing and facing the other woman. You were small in stature, and the Amazon-like woman towered over you.

“Annie,” you knew she hated being called by her real name. She was one of the cocky ones, thinking metahumans were better than regular old humans.

“You’re wrong,” another voice called. “Chronos is a dude,” that came from Blackguard, a weirdo that you were avoiding. You avoided most people, really.

“Chronos is not a dude,” Annie growled, suddenly looking at the smaller man. “You calling me a liar?”

“I think it’s time for us to get out of here,” Harley dug her fingers into your bicep and pulled you towards the rec yard.

“What’s up with you? You normally love people watching the fights,” you wondered, concerned when Harley passed her favorite guard without saying hi. (It was Colonel Flag, the fucking hottest guard at Belle Reve who you’d definitely formed a crush on. You couldn’t help it, he was compassionate and he didn’t spit on you or throw you around or humiliate you like the other guards.)

“You didn’t tell me you had a super secret past with a cool nickname,” she whisper-shouted when you got to a bench and she could slap you on the arm.

“It didn’t come up,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“What does Chronos even mean?” She asked and you were going to explain, but Colonel Flag sat down at the bench across from you with a warm smile.

“Harley, Y/N, just the two people I wanted to talk to,” he then raised an eyebrow at the bruising grip Harley had on your arm. She let go and he frowned at the angry half moon marks her nails had left there.

“Not now, Ricky,” Harley pouted. “Y/N’s been holding out on me! She has a cool secret life and never told me about it!”

“I doubt you ever asked,” he followed up in a deadpan way and you stifled a chuckle. It was true. She could be forgetful and also unobservant. She didn’t exactly ask you about your life a lot. You thought it might be an act, she did have a PhD, after all.

“She even has a cool nickname. What does Chronos even mean?” She asked again, but side-eyed Colonel Flag when he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Chronos? I thought they called you the Masked Marauder. You’re in here for theft.”

“They must not tell you all the deets,” you raised your eyebrows at the man. “Before I was a criminal I was a part of an elite army group of metahumans. But that went to shit and I’m considered a war criminal in several countries. Never got the pardon for working as a part of the US military because they wanted to keep my unit under wraps,” you frowned. You couldn’t ever leave the country because of it.

“Well you’re not going to like the proposal I have for you, then,” he looked like he was regretting coming over to you and you threw a smile on your face.

“What do you need, Colonel?” You asked, tilting your head, but Harley was bouncing up and down in her seat.

“Oh! Task Force X? Is it a new mission?” She looked so excited you nearly didn’t listen to her words. But you did.

“Task Force X?” You asked him, narrowing his eyes. Maybe that’s why he was so nice to you all this time. He was buttering you up. “I don’t think so. I’m not dying today.”

“You get ten years off of your sentence for every mission you do-” You cut him off.

“You had me at ‘ten years off of your sentence.’ Say no more. I’m in,” you grinned, shark-like, at him. He had the wherewithal to not look confused at your sudden change of heart.

“It’s always fun, like weeding out the weak!” Harley exclaimed as you were ushered out of the briefing with Amanda Waller, a woman who terrified you and chilled you to your core. You felt okay though because Rick was going to be your commanding officer. It had been three weeks since your conversation with him outside in the rec area. Three weeks and your relationship had shifted just enough to make you feel safe in his capable hands. If it wasn’t the genuine human respect he gave you, or the dirty looks and reprimands he gave the guards who manhandled and mistreated you, it was the lingering fingers brushing against your back when he led you places and the warm smile he had just for you.

“Flag,” you smiled softly as you passed him on the plane.

“Chronos,” he smiled back. You knew it was commonplace to call each other by their names (Bloodsport, Blackguard, Chronos, etc), but you felt a twinge of fear. This was your first time using that codename on a real life mission since you left the army. But, when Rick came up with a fancy electronic screwdriver and unhooked your power-dampening collar, you felt such a high. You were ecstatic, your limbs felt light, you felt like you could go a million rounds against Mayweather, you wanted to fuck-

“Am I missing something? Isn’t Chronos a dude?” Blackguard asked, again, and you scowled.

“Chronos is a myth, man. This is clearly just someone with the same name, right?” Boomer nodded towards you and you gave him a tight grin. But before you could respond, Rick did.

“She’s definitely Chronos, and you better hope her powers aren’t mythical,” you grinned at that. He had your back. However, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to save them all if it all went to shit. For several reasons.

You hadn’t used your powers since arriving at Belle Reve, so you didn’t know if you were at 100%

You only had certain amount of power over large situations, so you’d likely only be able to save yourself and a few others

You didn’t care enough about these fuckers and they didn’t care about you. Your priority was to get out alive with Rick and Harley

That’s when Harley made her first appearance to the team. She was apparently good friends with Boomer and you mentally added him to your list to keep alive.

After you set off, things happened quickly for you. You made eye contact with Rick (yes, you were mentally calling him Rick now, because you wanted to fucking date the shit out of him), and made small talk with Harley as Blackguard freaked out about Weasel. But when you dropped and made your way to shore, you stuck close to Rick. He had your back and you had his.

As it turned out, Blackguard had set you all up, giving your location to the enemy and getting his face blown off for his efforts. You watched as your elite team of killers was picked off one by one. Harley had run off and you were panicking that you didn’t have an eye on her. You needed her to get out of this alive.

“Follow me!” Rick shouted, nodding his head towards his intended destination - the forest.

“But Harley and Boomer are-” you shut your mouth as Mongal’s actions finally took their toll on Boomer. But maybe you could fix it, if you could use your powers-

“No, we have to get out of here, or we’re next,” Rick grasped at your arm and dragged you into a full out sprint towards the forest, gunshots echoing behind you. You slapped his hand away once you were deep in the forest, though the sky was darkening you cut your eyes to his.

“Harley is all I have,” you spat.

“She’s my friend too, you know,” he frowned. You’d never used that tone on him before. “She can handle herself,” as much as you were loath to admit it, he was right. She was crazy but she could get out of nearly any situation. You sighed and bent over, hands on your knees as you calmed your breathing.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” you muttered, but you gasped when a sudden pain shot through your right bicep.

“That was a warning shot,” you heard a voice call out in accented English.

“A warning shot?” Rick shouted as he crossed over to you, pulling you close to him and inspecting the wound. It went straight through, but it was bleeding badly. “Warning shots are supposed to be in the ground, not at people,” he spat, considering running but you were in too much pain and losing too much blood. “Don’t use your powers in front of them,” his lips brushed against your ear and you nodded imperceptibly. You wouldn’t want to show your hand.

“Take the colonel,” a woman’s voice called and you glanced at him, wide eyed as they dragged him off of you.

“Hey, hey!” He shouted, reaching out as you fell to your knees, putting pressure on your wound. If you could stifle the bleeding until they left you alone you could use your powers to fix it.

“Leave the girl,” the voice passed by you and you stared at Rick, panicking but unable to stop them as three men held him back and dragged him away. You couldn’t help but think this was the worst case scenario. The enemy was taking your leader but you had lost too much blood to put up a fight.

As the rest of the enemies passed you, you sat back on your heels, but one of them roughly bumped into you, making you lose your grip on your arm. The blood flow was back at full force and the world turned black around the edges. You were alone. You put your left hand face up in front of you, and your right hand an inch above it face down. Your hands were parallel to each other and you tried to gather your strength to use your powers, but you couldn’t. You hadn’t used them in so long and you had lost a lot of blood. The last thought you had before you lost consciousness was of Rick’s panicking face.

You awoke to gentle hands cleaning your wound with what you assumed was water and opened your eyes when you felt a tight bandage wrapping around your arm. It was a young girl, younger than you.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” she smiled softly.

“She’s awake?” A gruff voice came from behind you and you craned your neck to see a team of people behind you.

“Let’s get going then” another man said. “You patched her up, she can go on her own from here.”

“Who are you?” You asked the girl.

“We’re the Suicide Squad,” the dark skinned man growled. “Here to collect our Colonel.”

“No,” you sat up, quietly thanking the girl for patching you up. “I’m a part of the Suicide Squad,” you squinted in the early morning darkness. Was that… DuBois?

“Bloodsport?” You asked cautiously. Were these all other prisoners from Belle Reve?

“Who are you?” The guy in red and white asked you… Was that Peacemaker?

“They call me Chronos, but you might know me as the Masked Marauder,” you spoke cautiously.

“The thief? Why would they have a thief on a mission like this?” Peacemaker asked and you shrugged.

“My powers are useful for other things.”

“Chronos is a myth though, right?” A smaller man walked over to you, in a suit you didn’t recognize.

You shook your head. But that wasn’t the point, you had picked up on something DuBois had said.

“You’re looking for the Colonel?” You stood and approached the group, which apparently included a shark man.

“Yup, Colonel Flag was taken by enemies and is alive at their camp. He is our first mission,” DuBois spoke and you nodded.

“I’m coming with you. Colonel Flag helped me get out of the bloodbath at the beach. The enemy camp people shot me and took him away,” you frowned at the thought and the girl - Ratcatcher 2, she had specified - gasped.

“Why didn’t they take you, too?” She asked.

“I think they knew I wasn’t important. They noticed immediately that Flag was a military officer and took him away.” Likely to be tortured, you thought to yourself but didn’t say aloud.

“Well, let’s get going then,” Peacemaker said brightly and the group of you made your way to the enemy camp. You were lost in your thoughts on the way there. You weren’t sure whether or not you would kill anybody. Maybe hurt them or knock them out. You hadn’t killed since your time with the military. But they’d taken Rick and left you for dead. So you had very little qualms hurting them.

Turns out, it didn’t matter. Bloodsport and Peacemaker made what was almost a competition out of who could kill the most people in the sneakiest ways, but it got bloodier and bloodier as the rest of you approached the glowing tent. You heard laughter and glanced in, borrowed gun pointed in as you parted the flaps of the tent. But you immediately put your gun down. Rick was shirtless and all patched up, laughing with a woman who you’d seen the dark of the night before. You couldn’t help the rising feeling of jealousy, you’d never have that with Rick. The easy jokes, the equal ground. You were a prisoner, and you would likely die as one. But you couldn’t help the breathy “Rick,” that came out of your mouth when you realized that he was okay, and he wasn’t being tortured by enemies. He snapped his head over to you and stood.

“You’re okay,” he made his way over to you in three long strides, as if he couldn’t wait to be near you, and your heart swelled at the thought.

“So are you,” you whispered, and took a moment to look him over and let your body sag a little. You’d been so worked up that you had barely felt the pain of your wound.

“I didn’t know you were important to each other, I wouldn’t have let them shoot you,” the woman sort of apologized with a half smile and stood. “Let me get you something for the pain.”

It was then that she noticed the very silent camp, commented on it, and that’s when you looked down at your feet. Whoops, you’d let Bloodsport and Peacemaker kill an entire camp of rebels. People who were technically on your side. Waller had given you bad information.

Rick brushed a hand down your good arm and gently held you, pressing his thumb into your elbow as if making sure you were okay, that your pulse was strong.

“I was so worried,” he muttered, and you were sure only you heard it.

“So was I,” you looked up into his eyes, and if there wasn’t an audience, you would have kissed him then and there. Alas, you had another mission. Well, two. The first was to get the Thinker. The second one was to get Harley, and that was a plan you were ready for. You were down to clown, as Harley might say. As long as you had Rick by your side, you could do anything you set your minds to.

The Thinker would be frequenting one of his favorite bars, and as you left the shark dude in the bus you felt yourself relaxing a little upon entry. You knew bars. You knew how to blend in. You glanced over your shoulder, you couldn’t say the same for your teammates. So, you slinked away and found your way to the bar. The leader of the rebel camp provided you with a pair of stretchy black skinny jeans and a MCR band t-shirt. You’d fought harder battles in more confined clothing, so this wasn’t too bad.

“Una cerveza, por favor,” you spoke fluently. You grew up in the country, but your family was affluent and taught you several languages so that you could travel safely and easily.

The bartender smiled and grabbed you a bottle, and you watched the team gather around a table. They stuck out horribly, and you shook your head. Maybe with a few drinks in them they would loosen up, you watched as Peacemaker ordered drinks and nursed your own. You used to like drinking with friends, but other than Rick (and the missing Harley) you didn’t consider these people your friends. You had a tentative relationship with the Ratcatcher 2, and you were beginning to begrudgingly like Bloodsport. But, Polka-Dot Man freaked you out, Nanaue had the English understanding of a kindergartener, and Peacemaker was a dick.

“You going to join the team?” You failed to notice Rick coming over to you, and rolled your eyes, taking a sip as you mulled over your answer.

“Only if they start looking more interesting. You look like a bunch of tourists. I’d like to gather intel,” you scrunched up your nose at Rick and sipped at your beer.

“Yeah, you really look like you’re gathering intel, darlin’,” it was Rick’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sitting here, sipping on a beer and staring at us.”

You scoffed. How dare he call you out. But it was true, you were busy judging the team to actually get any good information.

“Fine, I’ll join you,” you swigged the last of your beer and glanced at the bartender. “¡Uno más!” You exclaimed, and the man smiled at you before grabbing you another ice cold bottle.

“You speak Spanish?” Rick raised an eyebrow at you.

“I speak a lot of languages,” you shrugged and took a swig of the drink before making your way to the now empty table. It seemed like your compatriots decided to go dancing. That left you with Rick.

“Oh yeah, and how did you come to know so many?” He seemed genuinely interested, though you were hesitant to talk about your past.

“My parents were diplomats and wanted me to be able to travel with them, so they had me learn Spanish, French, German, and Russian by the best tutors money could offer,” you shrugged, sort of stilted, at his curious glance.

“And I thought you were a thief because you were poor,” he shook his head with a smile. “Waller has very little info on you so I wasn’t sure.”

“My parents were cruel, and utilized their money to help bad people get into power,” you looked down at your lap. “I resent the things they taught me. And I tried my best to right the wrongs that people like them did.”

Rick sobered up and placed a hand on your arm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he frowned and brushed his thumb over your skin. “I knew a little bit about your thievery and who you robbed and why, but it makes sense now. You were trying to help. I get it,” he sighed and took a sip of his drink while you downed yours. You hated talking about your family. You wanted to move on to something else. Anything else.

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” you sighed, brushing your hair out of your face and looking up into those beautiful eyes.

“What would you like to talk about then?” he whispered, not willing to break the reverie you were in. You were close, closer than you should be.

“I want to talk about you, Colonel,” you smirked and placed a delicate hand on his thigh. He dragged his eyes from that hand slowly up to your face.

“What do you wanna know, beautiful?” He smirked and blinked those pretty eyes at you. You’d both had too much to drink. It was a little scary making the first move, but you found him incredibly attractive and you were 99% sure he returned your feelings.

“I want to know,” you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. “What those lips would feel like against mine,” you wondered aloud, and his sharp inhale was all you had to go on before a gentle hand was turning your face to his. The kiss was gentle, tentative even, but that’s not what you wanted. You wanted everything that Rick Flag could give you and you tightened your grip on his thigh, hoping to convey your thoughts, when everything went to shit. Peacemaker jerked Rick away from you and Cleo pulled you towards a darkened corner of the room.

“They’re asking for IDs,” she hissed, pulling you towards where you saw Abner had the Thinker.

“But what about-” she shushed you as you glanced back, making strained eye contact with Rick. Maybe you could use your powers to get out of this. But… You looked at the Thinker. This was the mission. You looked back at Rick. Would you get your brains blown out to save him?

You made your way to the exit, finding your way to the van and getting out of there. You were only vaguely paying attention while you were in pursuit of the truck holding your … friends? You panicked for a moment when it crashed, and when you pulled to a stop you sprinted out of the van and over to the fiery wreckage, thoughts racing about what could have happened to Rick when he, Bloodsport, and Peacemaker burst through the doors like some sort of boy band.

You couldn’t care less though as you threw yourself into his surprised arms and pressed your lips to his.

“That was stressful and I didn’t like it,” you muttered against his lips, barely noticing Bloodsport rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Rick smiled and pulled away to look down at you. “This is pretty nice.”

You scoffed and grabbed at his hand, not willing to let go just yet, and dragged him to your vehicle.

“Shut it,” you muttered as you all gathered. All he responded with was a light chuckle.

Your next mission was saving Harley, but as it turned out, she was no damsel. You were on your way into the place she was being held when she walked down the street towards you.

“Hey, guys! Whatcha doin?” She was smiling brightly and you rolled your eyes at the situation before hugging her.

“We’re here to save you, obviously,” you muttered and she looked from you over your shoulder to Rick.

“You came back for me?” She whispered and Rick came over to you, Bloodsport rolling his eyes in the background.

“Yeah, it was a really good plan, too,” Rick muttered, but still hugged back when Harley threw herself into his arms.

“Well I can go back in and let you save me,” she offered and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not necessary, Harley. Now that we have you we can get back to the mission,” you patted her on the back and nodded to the rest of your team.

Now, you could say that you acted heroically and saved the day, but you and your ragtag team… You were amateur heroes. It was a shitshow. You were setting up explosives with Nanaue when you had that bad feeling again. The one you had when you were going into that bank in Gotham. Maybe it was your intuition, but you knew some shit was about to go down.

“Keep at it!” You shouted at the King Shark and raced your way down the stairs to where Peacemaker and Rick were headed. If you remembered their part of the plan correctly, they were with the Thinker, but something went wrong when you were about halfway down.

“Fuck!” You shouted as you heard a great BOOM. They’d set off the explosives too early. Maybe you should have stayed… You looked up at the dust coming down from above. Your brain was telling you to get out before the building collapsed on you, but your gut was telling you to make it to Rick.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you chanted as you raced down the stairwell, crumbling concrete raining down as you danced around to avoid it. Your stomach cramped in warning, and you crouched into a ball as the floor beneath you gave out and you fell several floors. When your falling came to a halt you took stock. There was rubble above you, but not crushing you. Your breathing was heavy and your heart raced as you clawed your way towards the fluorescent lighting. You grunted and groaned as your fingernails cracked and your fingers bloodied, but you were not about to die here.

You crawled out into the open and peered through the dark, dusty hallway. You didn’t see anybody, but you heard a scuffle and made your way towards the grunting and smashing sounds. The alarm bells started going off in your brain again, and you started running. Your feet pounded against the jagged edges of concrete on the ground but you didn’t stop. You whipped your pistol out when you came to the source of the sounds, but you froze.

Your eyes took in the scene very quickly, and you knew there was a decision to be made. You saw Cleo’s figure in the dark corner, eyes shining in the dusty haze. The others hadn’t seen her yet. At first glance, Rick was atop Peacemaker, and your initial thought was that he was winning this fight. But his eyes, wide and shocked, locked onto yours for merely a moment before he collapsed forward, a dead weight, and all of your breath left your body.

You also saw Peacemaker’s eyes shoot to a computer chip that had scattered across the floor right before you came in. Right before they shot over to you.

But you knew this: Peacemaker didn’t know who you were. He had no clue what you were capable of. He roughly pushed Rick’s body off of himself, but you were faster.

You put your hands in front of you, parallel to each other, and green mist started swirling around between them. You hadn’t had to use your powers to alter a scene this big or intense before, usually just using them on your own body, but you could do this. For Rick.

Suddenly everything slowed down, Peacemaker was still lying on the ground, Rick was face-first in the rubble, and Cleo was crouched in the dark, hand reaching out to the chip.

But you were alive as your powers raced through you. You had seen yourself in a mirror once as you used your powers, and you could imagine how you looked to them. Glowing green veins covered your skin as you altered the fabric of the universe itself. A wind picked up in the room, swirling in tandem with the green mist in your hands. You only needed a few moments. You didn’t need to go back and stop the fight, you just had to stop Peacemaker. You contorted your fingers and molded the green mist to your liking before throwing your arms wide, the green mist expanding to encapsulate yourself and the two men. You didn’t need to include Cleo, she wasn’t involved. The wind whipped around, the green mist blinding everyone but you, and things started to go into motion.

It would all happen very quickly for everyone involved. Just a rewind. But for you, you had to painstakingly watch as Rick’s body rose above Peacemaker, and you had to watch as the ceramic in his heart was drawn out. You had handcrafted this reality and you were forced to watch as your handiwork took place. But you had gotten to the moment you needed. They were near the end of the fight, Peacemaker had slammed Rick into a wall, and with a wave of your hand, the mist disappeared and everything was clear.

“Wait, what?” Peacemaker shot his eyes over to you, but he was too slow in his understanding. You had already whipped your pistol out of its holster and shot him twice in the throat. He grasped at his, trying to stifle the bleeding and crumpling to the ground, but your eyes were focused on Rick. A very shocked, but very alive Rick.

“What did you do?” He asked, and you weren’t sure if that was disgust or wonder in his voice, so you turned, walked slowly over to Cleo (who had witnessed the whole thing through a haze of green), and picked up the chip.

“I believe you were looking for this?” You asked, holding it out in front of yourself to him. He gulped, walking over to you, but your strength was draining from with a display of your powers. When he pulled the chip out of your hand and tucked it into your utility belt, you wavered, edges of your vision darkening as you slowly knelt to the ground.

“What are you doing, we need to get out of here?” Cleo shouted at you, but you waved her off.

“I just need to sit for a moment,” but your voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“No you don’t,” Rick hauled you up by your armpits and lifted you into his arms, princess-style. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered and followed Cleo out of the rubble and into the daylight. You squinted, the bright sun blinding you after being underground for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, shoving your face into Rick’s neck to avoid the light.

“So,” he sounded very casual and you tensed up. “I really thought you weren’t going to use your rewind powers at all, what happened to make you use them?” You bit your lip, not sure what to say.

“Peacemaker killed you,” Cleo answered for you and Rick stopped walking. You winced and looked up at his face.

“I panicked,” you whispered, not sure how he was going to react. But when he turned his head to face you, it was as if he was looking at you for the first time.

“You saved my life?” He asked and it was your turn to gulp.

Okay, so maybe you had feelings for Rick. You knew that. He was a hot piece of ass, and he was kind, and he respected you. And you kissed at the bar and after the van chase. So he definitely knew you liked him. But did he know your feelings were deep enough to save his life and endanger your own in the process? Well… Now he did.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to lose you to that prick,” you tried to shrug it off, but Rick gently let your legs fall and your feet touch the ground. You weren’t sure what was happening until he reached out and pulled you into the warmest, most all-encompassing hug you had ever experienced.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair, and you let yourself sigh and sink into the hug.

“Yeah well now you owe me one,” you muttered jokingly, trying to slightly ease the seriousness of the situation. He squeezed you tightly once more before pulling away and smirking.

“Anything you want, you can have,” he smiled that sunlight-bright smile at you and you blinked at him once before returning his smile.

“You can take me on a date once I’m out of prison, how does that sound?” You asked and his smile widened.

“I can do that.”

“That might be a lot sooner than you think,” Bloodsport had walked over to you and (you assumed) Cleo had explained everything to him. You blinked.

What did he mean by that?

Apparently he meant he was going to threaten Waller and keep the information hostage. It wasn’t exactly what Rick wanted, but he got out with his life, and you didn’t have to go back to prison. You were thinking about it as you settled into your new apartment, only two weeks after fighting Starro and killing Peacemaker, your first kill in years.

You were sitting on your comfy couch watching reruns of Adventure Time when Rick called you.

“Hey,” you answered warmly, and smiled at his voice when he responded.

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?” You drew a blanket over your lap and muted the TV.

“Just relaxing. What’s up with you?”

“I was thinking, how about I take you on that date tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven?” If your instincts were correct, and they usually were, he was nervous about it. He was unsure you would actually want him, considering how sheltered and uneven your relationship had been before. You were quick to dispel that.

“That sounds lovely, Rick,” you couldn’t help but bite your lip in anticipation when he hung up a few minutes later. You also couldn’t help the excited squeal you let out and the little dance you did. Things were finally falling into place.

#rick flag imagine #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag dc #rick flag x you #rick flag x reader #dceu #rick flag #harley quinn #peacemaker #ratcatcher 2 #starro #polka dot man #nanaue #king shark #bloodsport

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n1ght5h4d3-24 · 2 years

Text

What The... Chapter Six

~Chapter Five~

Unfortunately, Sage didn't get the chance to talk to Dick about their last conversation as an inmate had acted out during their wellness check and the prison was put into lock down. She hoped that he didn't regret saying his confession aloud or have second doubts. She knew what she was going to do the next time she saw him.

Sage was in the middle of yet another book when she heard her cell door unlock. She looked up from her book in slight confusion as it was too early to be recreational time and she's been on her best behavior so...what the fuck is going on? One guard walked in and one stood by the door with Amanda Waller.

"Your first day here, you tried to escape. I'm here to give you the opportunity to regain your freedom." She began.

The guard that walked into her cell, reached up to unlock her collar.

"I'm assigning you to the Alpha team and seeing as I can't implant a microbomb into your neck...should you fail at following my orders at any given time, I'll detonate the explosive device in the base of Richard Hertz's skull." Waller continued.

Sage bit her tongue when Waller threatened to kill one of her friends. She exhaled slowly once the power damper collar was removed, feeling her power slowly returning to her. Waller then had a guard bring her a set of regular clothes to wear so she wasn't wearing the prison uniform. The only thing of hers that was returned to her was her brother's brown hoodie from the Mission City event as Mikaela didn't want it. Then Waller beckoned for the brunette to follow her, once she was dressed, and walked out.

"We are a black ops unit. Meaning, nothing you see here ever happened." Waller explained.

A tall man with light brown hair and green eyes approached the two woman.

"Matrix," he holds his hand out to Sage.

"Your commanding officer will be Colonel Rick Flag." Waller tells the girl beside her.

Sage shakes his hand and immediately has a flash of a familiar face as she looks at Flag. Once they're done shaking hands, Flag leads the young woman out of Belle Reve and into the back of an armored vehicle.

During the ride, the brunette took the time to look over Flag. He reminded her of Major Lennox. Thinking about it, the two ranking military men could quite possibly be good friends, if they existed in the same universe. Soon enough, the armored truck came to a stop and the duo in the back climbed out. The Witwicky girl observed the other participants that were already there and the other prisoners climbing out of another armored truck.

"So, this is the famous Suicide Squad?" she asked.

"Well, we considered that term degrading. The official term is Task Force X. Love 'em or hate 'em, these are your brothers and sisters for the next few days." Flag replied.

Sage looked over the members of her team and finally laid eyes on Dick, who was taunting a guard by pretending to reach for one of his guns that was strapped to his chest. She couldn't help but shake her head at his behavior.

"Your teammates are Captain Boomerang, Mongal, Javelin, T.D.K, Weasel, Savant and you of course already know Blackguard, also known as Richard Hertz, nicknamed Dick Hertz." Flag tells her.

Sage looked at the Colonel, "Is it true that he requested for me to be apart of the team?" she wondered.

"It is, yes. I've heard the two of you have grown close during your time here." he mentions.

She gives him a look, "I've also grown close with Cleo and I don't see her on this team."

"She wasn't needed for this particular mission."

"Nice try, Flag. But, Waller mentioned that this was the Alpha team. So, that also means that there's going to be a Bravo team which I don't doubt she'll be assigned too."

The Colonel couldn't help but look at the brunette in surprise, she was smarter than he originally believed...although perhaps he had under-minded her since she was friends with Blackguard. She tilted her head briefly before leaving the Colonel's side and made her way over to her bleach blond friend who was still messing with a guard.

"Blackguard!" she calls out to him.

She watches him lower his hand before turning towards the sound of her voice. Dick sees her and makes his way over to her except he can't help but feel anxious as he hasn't seen her since his confession. They met in the middle of the their walkway, almost standing toe to toe and Sage had to tilt her head up to look him in the eyes as he was a whole foot taller than her.

"Hey," she says softly.

"Hi," he returns the greeting.

They stare at each other for a moment before she reaches up with her right hand and cupping his right cheek. She rubs her thumb on his pale skin for a moment before she goes to stand on her tiptoes and guides his head down, their lips meeting in their first kiss. Dick put his hands on her waist and quickly pulls her closer to him. The two of them stood there for a moment or two, kissing before a guard pulled them apart.

"Hey! You two knock that off, there will be no fraternizing." he tells them. "Now get onto the helicopter."

The two share a look with one another before heading over to the helicopter as they were told, joining the rest of their team on board. Blackguard easily found a seat between T.D.K and the Weasel and Sage looked around for a seat herself. She decided on seating herself between Captain Boomerang and Javelin.

Once seated, she buckles herself in she takes note of T.D.K helping Blackguard figure out the buckle. She couldn't help but giggle at the sight. Dick's head shot up to look at her, a cocky grin on his face.

"Wish you were the one over here helpin' me." he started, "Rather have your hands down by my-"

"Dick." Colonel Flag called in a warning tone.

Boomerang barked out a laugh at the unintentional dirty euphemism and Sage snickers.

"What? 'm just makin' some conversation." Dick tells the Colonel.

The bleach blond then leans towards the brunette who's across from him. "You don't mind, do ya Kitten?"

Sage felt her cheeks heat up, and she smiled bashfully. Dick was in awe of her shy smile, finding it adorable.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late!" a female voice called out just as she stepped onto the helicopter. "Had to go number two."

"Good to know," Flag said sarcastically.

"Flag," Harley salutes the Colonel.

He then looks to the brunette on the helicopter, "Matrix this is Harley Quinn. Your final teammate." he tells her.

Harley slammed her equipment bag into Savant's head on accident as she makes her way more into the helicopter.

"Hey, Boomer!" the blonde greets the man on the brunette's right.

"What're you doin' back in prison, Harls?" he asks, hanging onto the straps behind him.

"Got road rage. In a bank." She takes a seat between Matrix and Javelin.

"Harley Quinn, nice to meet ya." she holds her hand out to the girl next to her.

"You can call me Matrix." Sage shakes her hand.

Colonel Flag looks everyone over before telling the pilots to proceed with lift off. The lighting in the aircraft became dim and red. The thrumming sound of the helicopter blade bled in with the white noise of the pressurized cabin.

Other than that, it was quiet for a bit, everybody either sizing each other up, or in Dick's case, imagining how Sage looked under her clothes. Sage was looking down at the hoodie she was wearing, getting lost in her memories.

A Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor flew overhead but, it was flying below buildings which was a little odd. The military team popped green smoke to signal the pilot as they continued to watch the F-22 fly overhead.

"It's Starscream!" Ironhide called out.

Ratchet started reversing and Bumbleebee transformed into his bipedal form.

"Back up! Take cover!" Ironhide says then looks to the scout.

The two of them pick up a box truck that was advertising Furby toys.

"No, no, no, no, no. Move!" Captain Lennox calls.

"Back up! Back up!" Ironhide repeats.

The army men jump out of their vehicles as their captain calls for retreat.

"Incoming!" Ironhide shouted.

Missiles came down from the F-22, one hit the box truck and another hit the ground, sending some of the men, the Witwicky siblings and Mikaela flying through the air. Sage groaned as she hit the ground, landing near Captain Lennox. He rolled over to look at the young woman beside him and reached out towards her.

"Sage, are you alright?"

The brunette clenched her eyes as her ears rang, then opened her Turquoise blue eyes when she felt a hand grab hers. She looks at Lennox, watching his lips move but, couldn't hear what he was saying.

Lennox seemed to realized that so he got up before helping her up. Once he got her steady on her own two feet, he places his hands over her ears and tapped the lower part of her head with his index fingers. Sage stared at the Captain as the ringing in her ears started to fade.

"Is that better? Can you hear me now?" he asks her.

"Yes, thank you." she tells him.

Captain Lennox dropped his hands and gave the young woman a nod. He then leaves her and returns to his team.

"Ratchet!" Sage hears her brother call out for the medic Autobot.

She makes her way over to where she heard her brother's voice and found him standing next to Mikaela. The two of them were standing before Bumblebee who was missing his legs.

"You got to get up. You're okay. You're okay." Sam tells his guardian. "Come on."

'Bee dragged himself across the ground. The three humans flinched at the sound of a weapon being discharged. Turning their heads, they saw a tank firing in their direction. Sam ran one way and Mikaela took off towards a tow truck. Sage made her way towards Captain Lennox and his team.

"Captain Lennox," she gains his attention.

He walks up to her and stands in front of her.

"Can I have a gun? I want to help you and your men." she tells him.

He grabs a pistol from his waistband and holds it out.

"Do you even know how to shoot a gun?" he questions.

"Uhh...no."

"Okay, then I'll give you a quick crash course." Captain Lennox shows her the gun and explains to her how to use it.

Then he hands her the gun and she follows him over to his team, taking aim amongst the men at the tank.

"Matrix," Dick called, noticing the distant look on the girl's face.

Her Turquoise blue eyes flickered to his pale face, snapping out of her memories.

"Yeah?" she wonders.

Dick stares at her for a moment, "Ya know how much longer ya in for?" he asks after a pause.

"Nope, why?" she inquires.

"Well, I don't exactly think I should be talkin' about sneakin' into your cell while Flag is here to rat me out about it." he smirks.

She notices the Colonel roll his eyes at the statement.

"Hey, that never stopped anybody." Harley piped up.

"Boutta be in a big ass jungle." Boomer elbowed Matrix in the side. "Plentya room in there to be alone."

Sage turned red and Dick gave her a sly grin.

"Y'know, this mission'll be over in no time," the bleach blond stretches his arms out and crosses them behind his head, leaning back in his seat. "I've got some wicked ass powers."

"Oh yeah?" she questions his cockiness, which was no doubt just a facade to impress her. "You're not worried about anything?"

"Kitten, I'll carry this whole team. Just you watch."

"I'll look forward to it, Dick." she tells him and he sends her a wink.

She shook her head and chuckled quietly at his peacocking behavior. He clearly believed his flirting was working and...yeah, maybe it was.

"We're in a butcher's freezer, Harls!" Boomer said loudly so the blonde could hear him from where he sat. "Surrounded by dead hogs hangin' on hooks. Only they don't know it yet."

"Leave 'em alone, Boomer!" she called back with a laugh.

Sage chuckled at the two of them before tipping her head back to against the straps behind her head. She heard Harley compliment Javelin's accent, she was also uncertain about what T.D.K stood for and Boomer was beginning to mess with him about the fact that all names were made up of letters when the Weasel, which sat next to Dick, garnered everyone's attention with a hacking cough.

She looks at the strange creature. It was the size of a fully grown human, covered in mangy brown fur with big bulging eyes and a mouth full of sharp little teeth...it was definitely something fascinating yet concerning to look at. It made a few disgustingly wet retching sounds and Dick nodded towards it.

"Yo, is this a dog?" he questions.

"A...a dog?" Boomer asked for clarification.

"Yes." Dick agreed.

"What kind of dog do you think it is, mate?" Boomer wonders.

"I don't know. I'm not familiar with all the breeds."

"I'm gonna go with Afghan Hound." TDK inputs.

"Since when does an Afghan Hound have bloody thumbs?" Boomer asks.

"Oh my God, is it a werewolf? I've wanted to meet a werewolf forever!" Harley said excitedly

Dick attempts to get up form his seat, struggling against his buckle. "Yo, they sat me next to a werewolf?!"

"That's not right," TDK says as Dick slammed into him in his desperate attempt to escape his seat.

Boomer laughed loudly, "You're seriously afraid of werewolves?"

Dick glanced up at him as he struggled to unbuckle his seatbelt. "Yes, I fuckin' am! So fuckin- get me out! I do not fuck with werewolves, there is no fuckin' way-"

"Maybe you should hop onto your girlfriend's lap!" Boomer cackles, jabbing a finger in the brunette's direction.

"Poor baby," Sage cooed.

She saw the look in Blackguard's eyes, she was pretty convinced that he was about to tear his way out from under his buckle to get on her lap as suggested.

"Hey, hey. He's not a werewolf!" Flag said loudly, over the commotion. "He's a weasel, he's harmless. I mean, he's not harmless, he's killed twenty-seven children but, you know, we got him to...I think he's agreed to do this."

"Thought you were super tough, baby?" Sage asked as Dick started to calm down and caught his breath. "Gonna carry the whole team?"

Instead of a snarky or cocky flirtation as she expected, he actually looked kind of defeated. Though, when she tilted her head, he took the prompt and started to backtrack.

"Yeah, well..." he scoffs, attempting to give her a cool look. "Caught me off guard, that's all. No biggie."

"Off guard?" she raised an eyebrow, "I could've sworn that guard was in your name." she teases, smiling brightly.

Dick falters, "I-I mean...it...yeah...well..."

"Get into position to drop!" Flag cut in.

The team unbuckled themselves from their seats and collected their things before lining up to jump into the ocean below off the coast of Corto Maltese. Sage noticed that Dick was once again struggling with his seat belt so she makes her way over to him and crouches in front of him.

"Hey, for what it's worth..." she began as she pulled on the metal tab of the buckle, her hands dangerously close to his crotch.

"I wouldn't be entirely against shacking up with you in the jungle someplace."

He stares at her with wide eyes, disbelief clear on his face. She stands up once she got the buckle to release and joined the line up, Blackguard was hot on her heels.

As the doors opened and the big, dark ocean was brought into view beneath the team, Sage felt a hand brush against her left hip and a firm chest press up against her back. For a split second, she wondered how far he would be brave enough to go if they weren't apart of the Suicide Squad.

"I'll see you down there, cutie." she tells him, turning her head just enough to look at him.

"See you on the other side, baby." he grins.

She makes her way over to the ledge and watches the Weasel drown, turning her attention to the Colonel.

"Uh...did anyone check to see if the Weasel could swim before assigning him to this team?" she questioned.

Flag pinches the bridge of his nose as he thinks it over before looking at the brunette again.

"It's your go." he tells her.

She nods and looks at Dick one more time. She blows him a kiss and sends him a wink before stepping off the ledge.

(Next)

What The... Taglist:

@isthisthingadog

@fieryflower24

@stitchattacks

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