#joel kinnaman imagine

[reveluving]

the bump in the night ; rick flag x reader

summary: someone made Mrs Flag cry, and her family is not having it.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, shadow-magic f!reader, reverse comfort & humour!

a/n: this AU is based on this piece I made a while back, 'cause you already know I can't do this special without hubby Rick and the kids! hope you enjoy it & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out my m.list for 'reve's quirky reverie 🕷️'!

'For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.' ;

Coming home to his daughter's hugs had become an everyday thing if Rick didn't have to work overtime, but if the flicker of sadness in her eyes was anything to go by, something had to have happened while he was away.

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” 

It was the same thing she told her brothers when they got home from school, and just like them, it was enough for Rick to get the whole picture.

Ah, Mrs Bedford. Or as the neighbourhood youngsters, children and teenagers alike, like to call her 'the modern witch of the road', and not in the cool way. Her husband was no better, always bugging you at any given opportunity. The worst part was Mrs Bedford always antagonized you for it, even if she knew you didn’t entertain her husband’s behaviour. It was also extremely hypocritical of her, considering she herself has tried to make her move on Rick. A lot. Only to be met with disappointment each time. 

Her children were just as bad, too, to put it lightly.

“What did she say?” It was the green light Irene needed before she explained what had happened to a T, courtesy of her father’s eagle eye. Unlike most days, it was just you and Irene visiting the park since your sons had football practice. 

The two of you were feeding the ducks when Mrs Bedford came up to you.

“You on your own?” Was the first thing she asked you before you questionably said ‘yes’, despite Irene being there too, and the little girl realized Mrs Bedford wouldn’t have gone off on a tangent about you and your ‘possibly tainted history’ if her father or brothers were around in the first place.

“I don’t know what you did but I can see it in your eyes, Flag. You’re no saint. You can fool the others with your little flower shop and your so-called angelic kids, but not me.”

Though Mrs Bedford knew nothing about your powers or your time in Belle Reve, instead, spewing hate out of jealousy and hatred for you for being the favourable neighbour, she wasn’t completely wrong. You have hurt people, you’ve even killed some, but they were for the greater good. Since your freedom from hell on earth, you’ve barely used your umbrakineses. It wasn’t until the birth of your children, to which all three of them gained your abilities did you realized you couldn’t run from who you really were—it wasn’t right nor fair to them.

Then, telling them your story as a criminal and how their dad was once your enemy was another thing. You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting, but it was certainly not amazement and sparkles in their eyes. As they grew older, they began to make sense of how their parents somehow knew people like Aunt Harley, Uncle Robert and hell, even Nanaue.

And at that point in time, Mrs Bedford reminded you of Waller, turning you into submission as you could do nothing but listen to her make a mockery out of you for turning over a new leaf. Irene had to watch your face drop as the woman insulted you, and she knew she had to tell her family about it. 

Irene insisted that she was fine about heading home early, even if you tried to convince her otherwise. She wanted nothing more than to do something about that glazed look in your eyes.

As soon as you stepped foot into the living room, a tear rolled down your cheek. You couldn't help but apologize to her, to everyone if they were with you then. You weren’t entirely sure if it was because you seemed weak over a bunch of words or their fate of ending up with you as the wife and a mother of their family.

Irene shook her head, hugging you with her face in your tummy.

"You're not a mean person, mama. You're the nicest and coolest mama we could ever ask for, and we love you." 

It was simple, something you've heard of thousands of times in your lifetime, but you very much needed it today.

Ever the sweet girl, she accompanied you as you lay in your bed, telling you random stories about what she painted during art class or what she ate at lunch, anything but the time Mrs Bedford’s son, Kyle pushed her off the swing while his older brother, Blake laughed and praised him for doing so. You didn’t need to know that. 

Not yet.

You listened with a warm smile, embarrassed but nonetheless thankful for how observant she was of your feelings before eventually dozing off. 

Irene was careful yet quick to jump off the bed, running downstairs to shush Richie and Ethan as they returned home. 

The more she explained, the brighter their eyes unnaturally glowed. Richie was starting to look like their father as he crossed his arms, listening to her like a police officer, while Ethan seemed like he was already thinking of ways to counter the Bedford’s undignified acts.

Basically, the Bedfords were not the greatest people. Each and every one of them. 

Though they had a myriad of ideas, they weren’t sure how much their father would appreciate it, even if it was for your sake. Still, they thanked Irene for being there for you, promising that something would be done, no matter what it would be.

For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.

After an unexpected nap, you came down to find your kids huddled on the couch, whispering and hushing each other. Curious, you approached them.

Ethan was the first to notice you, offering you a grin before showing you what was in their hands, “Look, ma, I think we got it.” 

You leaned in to take a closer look, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of life on their palms. There, they showed you the differing mass of shadows they conjured, a tougher one you just taught them about a week ago. You have always loved this trick as a kid, and it only aided your sanity when you were by your lonesome in the penitentiary. In a way, you were replacing what life truly was by making your own, even if they were temporary because there was no telling when or if you’d ever be free. 

Yet, here they were, prompting joy and pride as they held the wispy animals of their choice; Richie with what seemed to be an adorable little puppy, Ethan creatively emulated a bioluminescent jellyfish and Irene…

Oh, Irene.

She scarcely remembered how much you loved making her laugh by conjuring butterflies when she was still very little if not for the twins confirming it. 

The butterfly was as small as her hand, but the wings were majestic, idly flapping before flying over to you, leaving cloudy black trails and landing on your outstretched finger. 

You stared at their creations ever so lovingly, already on the brink of tears. You were just as mad at yourself for doubting your worth, and your potential, just because of the things you had to do in the past, for the sake of the person you were now.

You embraced Irene in a tight hug before pulling your boys in as well. You sniffled, absolutely joyous and blessed to be surrounded by the most loving people. Nothing could deter you from this, not even as the shadow puppy yipped and chased the jellyfish and butterfly in excitement. Your cat, Tofu, must’ve heard the commotion, too, as she came from the kitchen to check, only to be frightened and jump on the couch with you as the puppy came running to her.

Rick finally arrived about two hours later, coming home to hear laughter before he saw Irene running across the room, followed by Tofu and the shadow puppy in tow. The jellyfish laid on Richie’s head like a nest whereas the butterfly decided to make Ethan’s shoulder its home as they hung out with you on the couch.

“Daddy!” Irene greeted him before running over to him. He didn’t question the questioning look she gave him just yet and instead, hoisted her up, laughing as Tofu and the puppy pawed at his bootlaces.

“What’s going on here?” He raised his brows, amused by what could be described as a fever dream of a sight.

“The kids learnt how to make little lives.” You giggled, allowing Rick to sit next to you as you scooted over.

“And I got a new hat,” Richie gestured to the jellyfish, who he has now dubbed as Jelly. As if it understood, Jelly immediately floated away, leaving Richie’s hair flattened, “Never mind.”

You shared a laugh as he deadpanned before you turned to Rick, “Was work okay?”

“Yeah, the usual. Decorated the place today, actually.” He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery and showing you and the kids the spookily tacky decor that furnished his workplace.

“Did you really paint ‘dead inside, don’t open’ on the entrance door?” The twins gawked.

“Fitting, ain't it?” Rick joked, prompting smiles and chuckles from you once more before falling back on the couch, “But at least I’m off tomorrow, so I was thinking we could eat out for dinner.”

“Oh! We should head to Pop’s since they’re also offering their apple betty.” Ethan suggested.

“Well, I think that’s a good idea, so,” Richie trailed off, raising anticipation from the rest of you before jumping off the couch and running up the stairs. Ethan and Irene simultaneously gasped before the former took his sister out of Rick’s arms to chase their brother together. You and Rick could only watch with delight as Tofu and the shadow creatures followed them too.

“Everything okay?” He wanted to know, but he wouldn’t pry if you weren’t ready to tell him.

“Yeah,” You nodded, gazing down for a moment before continuing, “Something happened earlier but…”

“Richie! You better not lock the door or I swear to God!” Ethan’s voice rang out from upstairs, followed by Irene’s ‘language!’, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement. 

“It’s all good now.” You reassured him. You knew you could’ve told him, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on. You had children to nurture and a husband to take on the world with.

“The Bedfords?” He guessed. If it wasn’t them, then it had to be Mr Walker.

“The Bedfords,” You confirmed with a tight smile, “I’m just more upset that Irene was there to hear it.”

You didn’t explain any further and Rick took it as a sign to drop it. If they were able to make you this upset, then it was best to ask the kids instead. 

“I’m sorry,” He pulled you to his chest, planting a slow and gentle kiss on your forehead. He rubbed your back, sighing at the very mention of that family. Rick loathed that they were influential enough to be one of the higher-ups of the school’s PTA, though he was confident that money was involved in it too. He hated that they were reasons why you’d come home ranting about how Mrs Bedford bugged you again, or when he had to make sure Mr Bedford knew he was making a promise and not an empty threat whenever it involved their kids and his, "You know I can talk to them." 

It would do no good, but it was worth trying. 

"No, you know how the Bedfords are. Don’t worry, okay? Not now,” You kissed the inside of his palm before pressing your lips against his, soft, sensual and safe. Rick moved forward, deepening the kiss as held the nape of your neck. You pulled away but not before nuzzling his nose, “We should be celebrating.”

He nodded, though he knew it would only linger in his mind for a while. Still, he adhered to your wishes, standing up before offering you his hand to get ready, “Right, right. Shall we?”

You snorted, placing your hand in his the way a princess would when a prince asks for a dance. Unexpectedly, he twirled you around, wrapping his arms around you he pulled you in, chest to chest. You playfully smacked him, though it did very little to wipe off the pleased look on his face as the two of you headed to your room. 

You and the boys were the first to head out to the front yard, chatting and evaluating the decors of the houses while waiting for Rick and Irene. 

“What happened today?” He asked his daughter quietly as they stood at the front door, helping with her shoes while she slid on a jacket. 

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” She whispered back, swinging her arms as she watched her father tie her shoelace, “Like, really mean stuff. No one was around except us so she was kinda loud, too.”

Rick fumed, clenching his jaw as he could already hear and picture whatever nonsense she loved to spit out. 

“Mama got kinda quiet when we came home, and then she started crying. About how she’s sorry she was a criminal and how we’re ‘stuck’ with her powers.” She added. If anything, she and the boys thought your abilities were the coolest thing to have ever happened to them. 

He shook his head—who wouldn't crack after being subjected to their ways for so long? He hummed, hiding the seething resentment by ruffling Irene's hair.

"Can you help me distract your mother while I talk to the boys for a bit?" She nodded diligently, skipping over to you before Rick called out to his sons, "Need some help, boys." 

They rushed over, glancing at you before Ethan spoke up first, "She told you?" 

"Yeah." Rick replied as he locked the door.

"Can't we do something about it?" Richie asked with a frown.

"You boys are not punching Blake again." Rick reminded them with a small smile. 

"You didn't seem to mind it," Ethan mirrored his father's amusement, "He was yelling at our teammate and encouraged his troll brother to push Irene off a swing." 

"I'm mad, too," Rick was more than mad, but he couldn't let his emotions run wild, "Look, we'll think of something, alright? For now, just make sure she's happy." 

That's all they ever wanted.

The drive to Pop's was a lively one, and so was the dinner itself. Though you knew you'd be thinking about Mrs Bedford's words every once in a while, the smiles and laughter of your family were already a welcoming distraction as it is. 

Midnight rolled around, and everyone had returned to their rooms with sore cheeks and a full stomach. You were the first to slip under the covers after a shower, hoping you wouldn't be too tired as you waited for Rick, though it didn't work.

By the time Rick got out of the bathroom, you were peacefully asleep, your face just a breath away from your husband's pillow as his scent soothed you like no other. 

Rick smiled to himself, changing into his PJs before sitting on your side of the bed. The dip roused you from your slumber just a little.

"Rick?" You murmured, fluttering your lashes tiredly.

"Forgot to get some water," He caressed your cheek before bending down to kiss it, "I'll be back." 

You mustered a closed-eye smile and before you knew it, you drifted off once again, lulled by the way he patted your back.

Once the coast was clear, he moved off the bed, silently slipping out and closing the door before heading over to the twins' room. He knocked on the door, just enough for them to hear before doing the same with Irene's door and headed downstairs.

Rick sat down at the dining table with a glass of cold water, arms crossed and lost in his own thoughts before hearing light footsteps approaching.

Richie, Ethan and Irene carefully pulled their chairs back before taking a seat, and just like that, the discussion began.

But it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere and at some point, they just started shit-talking.

"Man, I wish coach would just kick Blake out." Ethan groaned, his head falling back. 

"Tell me about it. He's shit at quarterback." Richie clicked his tongue.

"Boys." Rick warned them, partially because his youngest was listening.

"Sorry." They apologized but Irene didn't seem to mind.

"How about…" She chimed in, tapping her finger on her chin, "We scare them?" 

"Like…?" Richie cocked his head, hoping she'd say more than just that.

"I don't know, I just thought it'd be cool since it's Halloween and stuff. And, well, maybe we could use our powers, but I know mama and daddy wouldn't want that." She shrugged, pouting because she hadn't thought it far enough.

"It would be a miracle to scare them without using our powers in the first place," Richie sighed, looking over to his father, "What do you think, dad?" 

No reply.

"Dad?" Ethan followed suit as the three of them raised their brows.

“How far are you in your shadow puppet practice?” Rick asked out of the blue, staring ahead as though imagining whatever idea he had played out. 

“Uh, pretty far, I think? Ma taught us how to merge our shadows into one if we wanted to make a bigger animal.” Richie answered, earning affirmative nods from his siblings. 

“How big?” 

“Like, this big!” Irene opened her arms wide to let him know just how big of a monster they would be able to make if they wanted to. They haven’t, there was no reason to, but the more their father asked, the more it piqued their interest.

Rick thought it through for a moment. It has been a while since he has seen you make that one particular lifeform, but it was worth a shot. If it were able to render Waller speechless, then it’ll definitely make the Bedfords piss their pants. 

No actual attacks, and definitely no killings. But he’ll make sure they shudder at the mere thought of Halloween. Put the fear of God in them. They had it coming, too, stomping on other neighbours’ happiness for years just for the fun of it. 

He just had to play it safe. 

He slowly broke into a sinister smile.

“You three ever heard of a hellhound?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: ahh hubby rick <3 ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[theartofimagining13]

Imagine:

You and your ex-husband Chris get along pretty well even after the divorce, so he’s always checking in on you, and one day, he learns that you’re dating a man named Joel and it’s gotten serious. Joel does not like that you and Chris still talk, so he’s suddenly always around. Chris picks up on it, and the fact that Joel is a bit of a dick to him makes him want to get on his nerves even more, so Chris begins to treat you even better. In the end, he realizes that he wants you back but doesn’t know where you stand since you seem to really like this Joel guy. 

[floralcyanide]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 - 𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐧

ed baldwin x gn!reader

In which your husband, Ed, returns home to Earth from the Jamestown Base on the Moon after being stranded.

warnings: none, just fluff (:

word count: 525

author’s note: I'm back from my hiatus, except it's for my new hyperfixation, the Apple TV original For All Mankind. if you haven't seen it, I definitely recommend it! especially if you love history, alternate history, space, etc. this is a little fic for a moment that isn't shown between Ed and Karen on the show. reader is gender neutral!

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Your heart is thumping rapidly in your chest as you stand with the welcoming crew of NASA. Today is your first time seeing your husband, Ed, in over six months. Even in the South, it’s a bitterly cold December, so you pull yourself further into your coat. You cross your arms to keep in some warmth as you giddily bounce on the balls of your heels. Gordo and Danielle are close by, waiting to welcome their friend and colleague home as well. You can’t imagine what they went through together up there, but you know better than to ask.

Ed has to be cleared by NASA before making his first appearance since splashdown, so everyone is waiting as patiently as possible despite the tedious process. The press is everywhere, and you’ve been asked several questions. You never minded answering harmless questions to the media but still kept to yourself quite a bit. You and Ed liked your lives to be kept somewhat private. 

The sound of clapping begins at the start of the crowd to your left, mission control coming out of their pit, and the landing crew to shake hands with Ed. You scan the area, waiting to spot your husband. You finally do, but he doesn’t see you yet. You swear your heart feels like it’s going to explode. Ed finally finishes shaking hands with the crew and isn’t too far from you now. His eyes dart across the crowd, looking for someone- looking for you. His eyes meet yours, and for a second, everything stops.

You start walking over to him, then begin briskly picking up your pace until you’re running over to Ed. You can hear the sounds of cameras popping as you dart to your husband, who looks over to you and opens his arms just in time to catch you mid-run. He spins you around in his arms as you bury your face into his neck. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck as you’re afraid to let go as if he’d vanish at any second, like this was all a dream. But it’s not; it’s real, and you can feel Ed’s strong arms supporting you. You take your time breathing in his scent that had long since disappeared from his pillow and clothes at home. You pull away from his neck, tears streaming down your cheeks as you grab ahold of Ed’s face, looking him closely in the eyes for the first time in ages.

“I love you,” you choke out, “so much.”

“I love you too,” Ed grins, leaning in to give you the kiss you’ve been waiting so long for.

Everyone cheers and claps as you and Ed laugh into the kiss. He lets you back down onto the ground, his arm immediately snaking around your waist protectively as he leads both of you over to Gordo, Danielle, and the rest of the astronauts waiting. The entire time Ed speaks to them, you can’t help but beam up at him, watching as his face contorts into a laugh before he hugs Gordo and his other friends. Ed is finally back, and you couldn’t be happier. 

[justreblogginfics]

Aw, this was so cute! 🥹 I just love this!

In my mind, this is how it ends for Rick Flag and that’s that. 😊

Already Married

Rick Flag x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: spoilers for suicide squad except i ignore that one decision the writers made you know the one, violence,

Author’s Note: this ended up being longer than I thought it would be but I was rewatching the movie while I watched it and ugh im such a whore for rick flag so here you go I hope you enjoy :)

Requested: by anon, Hi Dear, first of all I want to say I love your Rick x Reader Oneshot :) I like the idea that the reader and Rick lead Task Force X together. Unfortunately there aren't many of these... But what do you think about the idea that Rick and the Reader are secretly married? I mean they could be officially just be together/dating but keep the marriage a secret because of Waller? This woman is mean and she would definitely use it against the two... And the Squad finds out by accident on Corto Maltese? And again... I'm the anon that just asked about the secret marriage with Rick 😅 But I hadn't any more words. I just wanted to say it would be nice to read your version of this or anything about Rick and the Reader 😊 Looking forward to read more of your Flag. Thanks ;)

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif) ('walk please!' 'no no no you gotta go like this. WALLLKKKK')

Your eyes opened slowly to the blaring sound of Rick’s alarm. He had five more alarms set then you did which meant you had to get up and turn them off. You slammed your hand over it and looked up at the dark ceiling.

It was too early for this.

You rubbed your eyes and kicked the blanket off of you. You sat up and slid so you were sitting on the side of the bed as you got yourself together. Today was going to be tough. Painfully tough. You hated working for Waller but hey, at least you were keeping the world safe while you complained.

Rick reached over the side of the bed and grabbed your hand. He groaned, face half in the pillow. You looked back at him and hummed in question. The noise came out of your throat a little rough from sleep.

“Stay. Five more minutes.” You shook your head gently but his eyes weren’t open. You brought his hand to your lips gently.

“We gotta go.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” He groaned even louder and picked up his head. You met eyes sleepily and he let your hand go to sit up. You stood up and stretched. “Don’t forget to leave your ring,” you muttered.

��If I’m gonna die I want to die with my wedding ring on,” he grumbled. The two of you weren’t even officially dating in the eyes of your jobs. You knew that if you were, Waller would use it against you. She could blackmail either of you. You couldn’t let her know you were even friends. So you opted to get married in secret and keep working.

“Yeah well don’t die then.”

===

You did a headcount as everyone got on the plane.

“Where’s Harley?” you asked Rick who was standing beside you. Everyone else was mostly strapped in. Even the damn weasel. Rick looked out the plane door.

“She’s coming.”

“Sorry I’m late everybody! I had to go number 2,” she said with that large smile on her face. “Flag.” She gave him a salute. “Y/L/N.” She kissed your cheek. You rolled your eyes.

“Go sit down Harls.”

“Aye aye ma’am.” She popped down on her seat. You looked everyone over and nodded to yourself.

“That’s everyone,” you told Rick.

“Good. Wheels up in five!” he called. You went to find your seat at the front. You couldn’t believe Waller set you up with these people. They all seemed a little more crazy then the usual bunch. You sighed. At least you had Harley.

Rick came and strapped in beside you. You ignored the chatter of everyone else in the plane. You often did.

“This sounds like suicide,” you muttered.

“Well I’d hate for you to find out what this team was originally called,” he joked. You laughed and nudged him. He gazed at you but you forced yourself to look away.

Harley watched quietly as the two of you fought to hide your relationship. She had her inklings. Granted she was the only one who was around the two of you very often so she was allowed to have those inklings. That look on Rick’s face said it all.

Man to have a love like that, she thought.

Then the weasel screeched, breaking her out of her thoughts.

===

The trip to Corto Maltese was a rough one and once you arrived it didn’t get much better. Most of the team was massacred and you and Rick were taken by the Maltese Resistance. Harley was taken elsewhere.

You rubbed your shoulder. A woman named Sol Soria had taken you in and helped you out. She gave you food and medical assistance. You stood behind Rick, rubbing his bare shoulder as you double checked his wound they had wrapped up.

“I’m alright,” he promised. You scoffed.

“That was awful Commander Flag. Forgive me for double checking,” you joked. He rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. Sol watched the two of you, having just learned your names and status. She didn’t mind that you were there. She was hoping that it meant she would get extra help to take out Luna.

She broke her eyes away.

“Thank you again,” Rick said to her. She nodded stiffly.

“Of course. My men and I were happy to find you alive.” You leaned against Rick’s back, lost in thought. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for the men you had lost. They were criminals and most of them were awful people but they were still people. You just hoped that Harley had made it somewhere safe. It was no secret that she was your favorite of the bunch.

You were running your hand over Ricks tatto sleeve.

“Would you mind if I ask you a question?” she aside. That caught your attention again. You and Rick both nodded.

“Shoot,” Rick said.

“Are you two married?” You choked on your own saliva. Rick laughed awkwardly. You quickly took your hand off his shoulder and smiled stiffly.

“No!” you said.

“No. No, of course not,” he said. She gave you two a look and you breathed out a sigh.

“Congrats. You’re one of the few people who know,” you muttered. She smiled to herself a bit. She knew war far too well. It was nice to see love too.

“Trying to keep it a secret from your superior?” Rick nodded.

“So we would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Word of advice?” You nodded. “Stop acting like a married couple.” You both laughed dryly. You stepped further away from him.

“Noted.”

===

Harley grabbed your arm and moved you aside as Bloodsport ran past you. You were setting up bombs on the building, checking to make sure that the damn starfish would get blown up soon. You turned back around.

“Where’s Rick?” you asked, panic in your voice.

“He’s with Peacemaker!” she called, dragging you along. You shook your head, a worried pit in your stomach.

“I’m going to go get him.” Harley turned around to you and Bloodsport stopped completely.

“We don’t have time for you to be sentimental,” he said. You shook Harley’s arm and turned around.

“It’s emotional,” you argued. You handed Harley the rest of your bombs. “I won’t be long. You’re in charge.” She smiled.

“Yes!” She was too distracted to run after you and honestly, she didn’t have the heart anyway. You were worried. She knew the feeling. Bloodsport called after you but he was already running up.

You quickly rushed down the stairs, checking your watch. You had everyone’s tracker there. It was easy to find Rick from it, his little yellow icon flashing in your face. You shoved open the door, seeing Thinker at the edge of a large circular glass window. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw Peacemaker, his gun raised to Rick. You stayed very still.

“Listen, it’s nothing personal,” Peacemaker said.

“Holding a gun on me is pretty fucking personal,” Rick said, appraoching him. You quickly hid behind the door so they didn’t know you were there. Rick could probably handle this. Yeah.

He could handle it.

You waited a second, your thoughts louder than their words. But at the sound of a scuffle you turned around.

He couldn’t handle this.

You shoot Peacemaker once in the back and then again. It gave Rick the upper hand to pin him. You rushed over to help him, crushing Peacemaker’s toilet seat of a helmet on his own face. He went limp.

“Peacemaker,” Rick muttered. “What a joke.” You turned to look at him.

“Wasn’t about to let you die without your wedding ring. Or in that shirt,” you joked. “You okay?”

“Just fine,” he said. He held up some sort of card. “I’ve got what Waller tried to hide from us. They were involved in this project from the beginning.” Your face went hard.

“Is this gonna make us lose our jobs Rick?”

“I don’t think I like this job anyway.” He dipped his head and kissed you passionately. You molded into his chest for a moment before forcing yourself to pull away.

“We’ll finish that later. Right now, let’s go save the damn world.”

Ratcatcher 2 watched from the other room eagerly as he held you close to his chest. She smiled brightly, dust in her hair. She got up clumsily, making noise and causing both of you to step away.

“How much of that did you hear?” you called. She shrugged.

“Enough.”

“We would appreciate it if you didn’t-” he started but she shook his head, that ghost of a smile on her face.

“We have to go save the world, remember?”

====

The large starfish fell, thanks to Harley, a spear, and a shit ton of rats. You were happy to see the damn thing go. You brushed your hair out of your face, breathing heavily, your gun still steaming. You turned to Bloodsport who was closest to you and smiled brightly.

Harley came tumbling down, covered in gunk.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess we did it,” Bloodsport said. Harley raised her spear.

“Hell yeah we did!” Harley called. You hopped off the rock you were standing on and Harley ran up to you. She threw her arms around you, laughing. You gagged, pushing her off, though you were laughing too.

“You stink Harls.” You looked around, unable to find Rick in all the rubble and people.

“Oh come on!”

“Harls, you see Rick?”

“Flag? No, not since earlier.” Your breathing started to pick up as you searched with your eyes, turning in circles. You hadn’t had your eyes on him the whole time. You assumed he could handle himself. Bloodsport went up to Ratcatcher, seeing how she and the rats were doing. You turned around, finally seeing Rick come out of the rubble. He wobbled up to you, coughing up some smoke. You ran up to him, throwing your arms around him.

You let out a loud sigh of relief.

You pulled away enough to kiss him harshly. His eyes went wide and then he settled into your lips, holding you around the waist.

Harley cheered.

“Finally! Finally!” she yelled. You pulled away slowly, still a little shaken from having thought you had lost him. You turned around but he kept his hand in yours.

“Shush Harley.”

“We’ve been making bets this whole time when you would make out,” Bloodsport said, walking closer to you.

“And I win,” Ratcatcher said.

“No, I win. I said it would be when we defeated the starfish,” Bloodsport said. Ratcacher shook her head smiling.

“I said they had already done it,” she said. “They’re married.” You gave her a hard look. Harley’s face lit up.

“No!” she said, smiling brightly. She ran up to you. “You got married?!”

“It was supposed to be a secret,” Rick said.

“Well it ain’t anymore!” Harley said. “How long? Was it nice? Why wasn’t I invited? Is it because I was in prison cause that’s no excuse.” You laughed and shook your head.

“It was just us. Trying to hide from Waller.” She nodded.

“Well then that’s a decent excuse. Oh!” She grabbed your hands. “How was the honeymoon?” she whispered.

“Harley, we have to be at the rendezvous point,” Rick said. He started to walk away. “But it was great, for your information.” You rolled your eyes.

“I wanna hear that from the lady.” You scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “It was pretty great.” Harley giggled. Her and the rest of the remaining team started to follow Rick away. You caught up with Rick, walking beside him.

“I guess we’re made,” he muttered. You smiled and reached into your pocket. You pulled out your wedding ring which you kept in a very tight zipped up pocket. You handed it to him and took his out of your pocket as well. He laughed heartily. “Why’d you bring these?”

“Had a bad feeling about this one. If you had died back there with Peacemaker I would have put your ring on your finger.”

“And if you had died?”

“You would’ve found it.” You extended your left hand. He met your eyes with a loving gaze. He slipped the band onto your wedding finger. You gestured for his finger and he held it up for you. You put his ring on as well.

Harley ran up behind the two of you.

“Lemmee see the diamond!” You laughed and showed it to her. She awed, smiling. “Awe, I’m so happy I could cry!” She pointed at Rick. “But if you ever hurt her I will gut you from the inside out.” Rick raised an eyebrow.

“Noted.”

You grabbed his hand as you walked to the plane. Harley fell back to talk to the others. He raised your intertwined hands and kissed the back of your palm. You flushed and rolled your eyes.

“Stop it. This is why we couldn’t tell Waller in the first place.”

“We had a good reason. You’re so damn distracting when I’m allowed to kiss you.” You shoved him but just as quickly let him wrap his arms around you as you walked to safety.

[siremasterlawrence]

Hotel Of Lawrence 3

Joel Kinnaman is the next in line traversing the Hotel lobby with lights so bright as he and his crew investigate every area filming his entire jaunt through my palace aka The Hotel of course. He has the most sexually engaging expression of shoots and giggles on his as he spun to the camera in a modest look he is unbelievably falling for me and he will soon understand his ways and place.The doors swing open with the lights ever glowing he is faced with a perilous danger when he spins about to see his crew is gone totally disappearing in to the either of the world as the wind brushes past him a bit I do love it. The ground begin to shake noIt quakes under his feet as the ground open beneath him and he falls through in to the darkness of it all consuming him in a sea of darkness.The cracked floor boards crumpled as it is finally undoing itself beneath him because he is swallowing him alive and screens of his life like mirrors overshadow the area as he falls in to the pit watching himself fail over and over again. “What is your problem main? You are always on my ass attacking me for no reason?” Joel listens to himself yelling at someone who was working for him at the time.

“Where am I?”

“Hhheeelllppp!”

“There us no escape “

“Lair!”

“Let me go!”

“I love you! Fuck no”

“Fuck you!”

“Why not?”

“You have succumbed “

“I refuse to believe that”

“Does not matter”

“I hate you”

“You love me”

“Will you serve me?”

“I won’t…I can’t “

“You can’t fight me”

“You have to give in”

“I am your life”

“I hate….I”

“Say it “

“I…love…you”

“It’s a whirlwind “

“My love for you “

“I need you “

“You thrill me”

“I excite you “

“Kneel before me”

“Oh Master”

“What are you?”

“I am your bitch”

The end

Hotel Of Lawrence 4

Tom, Chris and Joel are the best bois they can be at this point since I have assumed control over them and they have forgotten all their lives accept for the fame they are working so hard to attain.They spent hours long length of love for me entertaining me, my guest and of course the world because they are bonafide stars to the world and I own them now and for a lifetime. Stephen Amell is next guy to join me up at my grand collection at the palace, everything that he could imagine his life to be has happen and yet he has so much more to realize and how I will impact it.

“Yo Man! Hurry up”

“What are the fuck…”

“Uuuggghhh!”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Sir?”

“That’s more like it”

“Lose the attitude “

“Yes SIR”

“Address me as Master Lawrence “

“Yes Master Lawrence”

“Are you my good boi now?”

“Yes Master”

“The collar is perfect “

“It is looks spectacular on you “

“The mind control aspect is splendid”

“You are jovial Master”

“Well you a great specimen “

“I am thrilled with my new acquisition “

“Is that me?”

“What do you think?”

“I love you ?”

“Yes Sire”

“Kneel at my feet”

“Crawl to me”

“With all my heart and soul”

“Say it”

“I love you “

The end

Please read, like and reblog part 1 and 2.

[staygoldnimoy]

rewatching altered carbon, and Joel Kinnaman and his world weary, bloody good looks are bewitching me.

his looming physicality, apathetic brown eyes and chemistry with fiery loudmouths ALSO leads me to imagine him as ghost frolicking about in this verse.

can you imagine simon ghost riley, envoy. man out of time. wears a mask, because the while the sleeve changes, the skull remains?

he gets spun up on some methuselah plot, get saddled with Lieutenant MacTavish. new world, new age, same old bullshit. and yet.

and yet. soap starts to get to him.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

I Just Want To Say...

THANK YOU to the fellow writers, creators, authors, and artists that are listed below! You guys have inspired me on so many levels! Your work, art, and fanfics always bring a smile to my face, I love reading them so much. I hope you guys keep creating more amazing works and continue to inspire and make others smile too! I'm rooting for all! And I can't wait to see what you all do next! - Chloe <3

I implore those who see this post, to check out these fabulous creators, give them love!

@maxineswritingcenter - Works; Supernatural, Teen Wolf, The Vampire Diaries, The Witcher, X-Files, Marvel, TrueBlood, and ClusterFluff

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@french-vanilla-in-the-clouds - Works; Sherlock (BBC), Supernatural, Marvel, and X-Files

@hellcomestohawkins - Works; Stranger Things, Arctic Monkeys, White Lines, X-Files

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@ficsnroses - Works; John Wick, Better Call Saul, Keanu Reeves, and Johnny Silverhand (CP 2077)

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@aniqua - Works; Marvel, The Sandman, Shadow And Bone, Spider-Man, Stranger Things, and The Punisher

@whirlybirbs - Works; Star Wars, Marvel, Red Dead, Kingsman, Transformers, Peaky Blinders, Pirates Of The Caribbean, and more!

@luna-xial - Works; The Hobbit

@lilxberry - Works; Marvel, DC, Harry Potter, Euphoria, Lord Of The Rings, The Hobbit, Riverdale, The Walking Dead, The Karate Kid, Cobra Kai, and 13 Reasons Why

@guardianofrivendell - Works; The Hobbit

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@delicatenightfury - Works, Marvel, DC, Supernatural, Lord Of The Rings, The Hobbit, Vampire Diaries, Hunger Games, Narnia, Maze Runner, and more!

@reddie-fancomic-by-slashpalooza - Works; Loose Ends (The best freaking fan-comic I've ever read <;3)

@micheleamidalajedi - Works; Mass Effect, Final Fantasy, Resident Evil, Criminal Minds, Harry Potter, Marvel, CSI, Gears Of War, DC, Yellowstone, Star Wars, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, X-Men, and more!

@imagine--if - Works; DC

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@warrenwrites - Works; Stranger Things, The Amazing Spider-Man, Marvel, The Sandman, and Criminal Minds

@helloheyhihowdyheya - Works; Spider-Man, Stranger Things, and Top Gun

@waitimcomingtoo - Works; Tom Holland, Spider-Man, The Devil All The Time, Brad Simpson, Stranger Things, Marvel, and Sebastian Stan (I am so impressed with all their work)

@tiffdawg - Works; The Mandalorian, Narcos, Triple Frontier, Kingsman, and more!

@queridopascal - Works; Narcos, Triple Frontier, Kingsman, The Mandalorian, The Equalizer, We Can Be Heroes, House Comes With A Bird, The Bubble, and more!

@oonajaeadira - Works; The Bubble, The Mandalorian, Prospect, Triple Frontier, Kingsman, Unbearable Weight Of Massive Talent, Narcos, The Last Of Us, Bloodsucking Bastards, House Comes With A Bird, Game Of Thrones, and more!

@fuckyeahdindjarin - Works; The Mandalorian, Narcos, Kingsman, Triple Frontier, The Bubble, and more!

@huffle-pissed - Works; Marvel, Pedro Pascal, Star Wars, Stranger Things, Supernatural, Harry Potter, and Dragon Age Inquisition

@brandyllyn - Works; Bloodsucking Bastards, Den Of Thieves, Ex Machina, The Great Wall, Hannibal, Horizon, Kingsman, Law And Order SVU, The Letter Room, Narcos, Mayans, Prospect, Star Wars, Suburbicon, and more!

@sgt-morgan - Works; The Mandalorian, Marvel, Hozier, Keanu Reeves, and more!

@tegerton - Taron Egerton, Eggsy Unwin, and Eddie The Eagle

@make-me-imagine - Works; Briderton, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Criminal Minds, Doctor Who, The Mandalorian, The Originals, Merlin (BBC), Star Trek, Supernatural, Sherlock (BBC), Teen Wolf, Marvel, The Hobbit, Lord Of The Rings, Harry Potter, and more!

@iamnotoriginalphil - Works; Once Upon A Time, Ineffable Husbands, Merlin, and more!

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@dainty-fingertips - Works; Marvel and Spider-Man

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@jonathan--majors - Works; Better Call Saul, Bullet Train, DC, Marvel, Stranger Things, Top Gun, and more!

@ardentmuse - Works; Harry Potter, Kingsman, Marvel, Game Of Thrones, and more

@classic80sand90smovieloves2 - Works; Pretty In Pink, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Ferris Buellers Day Off, Heathers, Back To The Future, Say Anything, Can't Buy Me Love, Some Kind Of Wonderful, Dead Poets Society, School Ties, Grease, and more!

@livinglifelowkeyloki - Works; Marvel

[ogradyfilm]

Recently Viewed: Silent Night (2023)

[The following review contains MINOR SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]

Silent Night represents something of a stylistic departure for John Woo. Beyond its central gimmick—the script features minimal spoken dialogue, communicating the plot through visuals alone whenever possible—the movie is a rather traditional revenge drama, sharing more in common with Taxi Driver, Death Wish, and Hardcore than it does with any of the director’s own previous efforts. Joel Kinnaman’s mute protagonist, for example, is not a superhuman badass capable of defying gravity and mowing down thugs like so many blades of grass; on the contrary, he’s a fairly average guy, requiring literal months of intense physical training before he’s able to put even a single bullet in a stationary target. Indeed, after lethally subduing a foe for the first time, he pukes his guts out—an entirely reasonable emotional response that would nevertheless feel utterly alien in Woo’s earlier work. I wouldn’t call the grounded, gritty, naturalistic approach to the action “subtle” by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s certainly a far cry from the slow motion, guns akimbo spectacle that defined Hard Boiled, Face/Off, and Mission: Impossible 2.

And to be perfectly honest, I admire that (relative) restraint. Although I subscribe to auteur theory, I must acknowledge that it can be extremely limiting when applied too rigidly; some overzealous critics develop inflexible preconceived notions regarding what a particular filmmaker's voice "should" be, dismissing any perceived deviation from the established "trademarks" as an unacceptable failure. With Silent Night, Woo deliberately eschews many of the tropes commonly associated with him, distancing himself from the excessive maximalism that he arguably codified. Instead, he delivers a lean, efficient, elegantly simple thriller—and there is great value in that uncharacteristic authorial invisibility.

[reveluving]

hold me closely ; rick flag x reader

summary: 'cool, calm & collected' is how many describe the Flags, and they're right. to a certain degree, at least. (a.k.a some of your & Rick's favourite convos in the family group chat)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff & humour (ft twin sons Ethan & Richie, daughter Irene & Tofu the cat!)

a/n: made sumn for my rick babes (+ s/o to my girl @lacontroller1991​ for the cutest hubby rick ask??? ily) so enjoyed imagining what it’s like to be his wifey and mother of kids eeee <33 love y’all!! don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

disclaimer!! despite the face claims (joy from rv btw) & running theme here, you are highly encouraged to imagine yourself or your oc as the MC however you see fit!

» wanna read more rick flag fics or anyone by joel kinnaman? check out my j.k. m.list!

↳ january 19th ༉‧₊˚✧

me 🌸 : how's Tofu, kids?

richie : [ sent 3 photos ]

mister e : pretty gud mom

me 🌸 : ??? the last photo??

my beloved ❤️ : @.mister e what did we tell you about putting Tofu on your head

mister e : i told richie it was a bad idea but he didn’t listen 😔

richie : ??? u literally suggested the idea??? 🤨

↳ march 21st ༉‧₊˚✧

me 🌸 : have u guys seen the package i brought in this morning? i ordered a pillow for your sister

richie : [ sent 3 photos ]

richie : dw we gave it to her already

mister e : Tofu also conquered the box just so you guys know

↳ june 5th ༉‧₊˚✧

my beloved ❤️ : store’s got vanilla ice cream but it’s not the one you asked for. is it still okay @.me 🌸?

me 🌸 : more than okay! tq ❤❤

mister e : nvm we bought like, 9 different kinds

mister e : [ sent 3 photos ]

me 🌸 : ? how???

richie : dad drove us to four different stores lol

my beloved ❤️ : i still don't think it's enough

↳ july 4th ༉‧₊˚✧

richie: [ sent 3 photos ]

[ my beloved ❤️ reacted with a ‘ ❤️ ’ ]

[ mister e reacted with a ‘ 🎉 ’ ]

[ you reacted with a ‘ 🥰 ’ ]

↳ july 22nd ༉‧₊˚✧

richie : what do you guys call a fake noodle?

me 🌸 : what?

richie : an impasta

[ my beloved ❤️ has removed richie from the group ]

me 🌸 : RICK

my beloved ❤️ : it’s a little funny, i admit

mister e : heh

my beloved ❤️ : you wanna join your brother, too?

mister e : no sir 🚶

↳ august 6th ༉‧₊˚✧

mister e : [ sent 3 photos ]

mister e : richie, irene and i @ the aquarium + ice-cream and bookstore after

[ you and my beloved ❤️ reacted with a ‘ ❤️ ’ ]

richie : hope the dinner’s going well!

me 🌸 : [ sent 2 photos ]

my beloved ❤️ : [ sent 2 photos ]

my beloved ❤️ : it's going amazing. thank you boys 😌

» juuust in case you're still confused: 'my beloved ❤' is Rick, 'mr e' is Ethan & 'richie' is, well, Richie!

» ❛ fun lil’ trivia about the flags ༉‧₊˚

Irene and the twins have an eight-year age gap!

Richie’s full name is Richard Flag the Third.

Although identical, Richie has certain mannerisms that resemble his father. The same case applies to Ethan, the younger twin, who picks up more of your quirks. Despite that, Richie, usually the photographer of the group, encourages (and even adds to) Ethan’s odd photo ideas.

Sporty ahh kids. All three of them. Need I say more?

» gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[heavenboy09]

Happy Birthday 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 To You

The Handsome & Extraordinarily Talented Swedish 🇸🇪 Actor In Hollywood Today

The 1 & Only

Mr. Joel Kinnaman🇸🇪

#JoelKinnaman

[justreblogginfics]

I don’t know how I’ve missed this but this is so good!!! A jealous Rick is the Rick I didn’t know I needed and you wrote him—and this—so perfectly!!

Hands All Over

Rick Flag x F!Reader

Based on the request from @beardburnsupersoldiers: could you do #11 (“I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”) with Rick Flag??? (Prompt is from This List)

Warnings: 18+, language, smut, jealous Rick

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: my requests are closed but i have been thinking about this in the best way ever since you sent it in and i finally finished it tonight so I'm sending it out into the universe. I'm forever unwell about this man but i hope you enjoy!!!! xo (as always this is unbeta'd af but it's made with love)

You were purposely ignoring the pissed off look on Rick’s face as he stared at you from across the lot. It was early still. The guards hadn’t even rounded up everyone that the two of you needed from Belle Reeve yet. The usual suspects had been brought out first, people they knew weren’t going to put up much of a fight even if they wanted to. It was a short list, and seemed to get shorter all the time whether it was because they kept shaving years off people’s sentences, or because there were almost always a couple team members who didn’t make it home at the end of a mission. Turnover was constant, but it wasn’t as though Belle Reeve was ever going to run out of inmates.

Regardless, it left you and Rick out in the lot with Harley, Peacemaker, and Captain Boomerang. Over the next few minutes you were sure that others would slowly start to trickle out, people with no real clue about what they were getting roped into.

The reason that Rick was giving you the glare was two-fold—he was pissed off about what he was seeing, and he was also pissed off that he couldn’t even try to say anything about it. The first part was your fault, really. But the second part? That was just as much on Rick as it was on you. Maybe if you two had taken the time to ever actually talk about what your deal was, situations like this wouldn’t have him reacting quite so obviously. As it stood, Rick was too stubborn to start the conversation and you enjoyed stirring the pot too much to start it yourself.

So, there you were, leaning back against the transport vehicle you and Rick would be loading everyone into soon enough. Your back was braced against it, one boot on the ground, the other resting back flat against the large tire. Your arms were crossed in front of you as you looked at Boomerang. He was closely mirroring your stance as he stood beside you. You might’ve been vaguely aware of how close he was standing, but judging by the clench in Rick’s jaw it was just about the only thing that he was aware of.

Boomerang had always been a little more comfortable around you than he should’ve been. You figured out pretty quickly after meeting him that trying to fight him on it all the time was not only exhausting, but it wasn’t effective. So along the way the two of you found your middle-ground. You were fine with it, the banter and jokes that definitely wouldn’t be workplace appropriate at any other job, but even without looking at Rick when it happened you knew that he wasn’t a fan.

“C’mon.” Boomer nudged his shoulder against yours. “How many more missions till I can take you out?”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Bold of you to assume that the only reason you can’t take me out is because you’re currently in prison.”

He pretended to be offended and hurt by the comment. “That ain’t very nice, now is it?” He paused as you laughed. “Got some boyfriend on the outside, then?”

Turning your head to look at him, you said, “Why would I have to—”

He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Or a girlfriend. Don’t matter.”

You chuckled. “I never said any of that.”

He stepped away from the truck. Turning on his heel, he stood so that he was facing you head-on. “By the time I’m outta here, sweetheart, I’ll win you over.”

Even though you knew it wasn’t ever going to happen, you still found yourself smirking at the concept of him trying to woo you. Whatever that meant to him. “Always good to have a goal.”

There were a few beats of silence as he looked around the lot. You could tell that he was starting to get a little antsy, Harley too from the sounds of it as she chattered away at one of the new recruits that had been brought out. This was always the longest part. Briefing everyone was quick, and the rides to the mission locations went by fast because of the commentary flying around amongst everyone. Waiting for everyone to get chipped and brought out got to be a drag after a while.

Boomer was feeling it, pulling out one of his boomerangs and fiddling with it passively in his hand the way a child would fuss with a toy. Arms crossed over your chest, you nodded towards the item in his hand. “Not getting that out just because I said you couldn’t take me out, right?”

His grin split wide enough to catch the glint off his gold tooth. “’Course not.” He fiddled with it for another second longer before pointing at you with it. “Ever used one’a these?” You shook your head and he switched so that it was laying flat in his upturned palm, hand out to you like a peace offering. “Wanna try?”

“Boomer—”

“Give it a shot! ‘s the worst that could happen? We’re the Suicide Squad anyway, right?”

No matter what your rebuttal was, it wasn’t going to be good enough for him. Using your foot that was braced against the tire, you pushed off the side of the truck. “Fine. Only because I know I’ll never hear the end of it from you.”

He was practically cackling as he set it in your hand. “Might make a bad guy outta you yet.”

The two of you weren’t even being all that loud but the words were grating against Rick’s ears halfway across the lot like he was trapped in an echo chamber. The internal conflict of enjoying the sound of your laughter versus knowing that you were laughing at something that Harkness said had him rooted to the spot. If he clenched his jaw any tighter he was liable to chip a tooth.

First it was listening to the two of you shooting comments back and forth, your indirect denial of having someone on the outside. He was frustrated with that even though deep down he knew that even if you’d said you were with someone, it wouldn’t have stopped Boomerang. Deeper down still, he knew that he’d never said anything to you about the relationship between the two of you, but it was easier for him in that moment to forget that small detail.

That was frustrating enough, but then he saw the way that Boomer was so quick to put his hands on yours, how comfortable he was shifting the two of you so that he was standing behind you. It didn’t matter that you wouldn’t take the man seriously in a million years, that no matter the innuendo or the offer he wasn’t ever going to win you over. In that moment, Harkness was closer to you at work than Rick ever would be. And you were smiling and laughing about it.

Not nearly soon enough, the last of this round’s Task Force X were brought out to the yard. You’d managed to get one mildly successful boomerang throw in, and Rick had stopped just short of giving himself an aneurysm.

“Alright,” he barked, more anger in his words than necessary as he walked towards the truck, “everyone load up. We’ll brief on the way.”

You stood back watching as they all filed in. There were murmurs, quick exchanges as everyone tried to get situated in the cramped space. You tried to stifle your chuckles as you heard Harley riling everyone up as they got strapped in.

Unsurprisingly, Boomerang was bringing up the back of the line. Before stepping up into the vehicle, he stopped right beside you. You could feel the humor dripping off his words as he motioned for you to get in before him. “Beauty befor—”

Rick gave him a harsh shove between his shoulder blades, cutting him off in the process. “Get in the fuckin’ truck,” he grit out.

Boomerang’s entire face contorted in annoyance and offense for a moment. He looked over his shoulder at you as he climbed into the vehicle. “When’re you gonna stop lettin’ that one tag along?” He gestured to Rick.

Rick’s brows were pinched together as tight as you’d ever seen them. “Harkness.”

It was all that had to be said. He slipped into the back of the transport with everyone else. You were still looking at the now-empty door, unaware of the look that Rick was now giving to you. There were plenty of things that he wanted to say to you, do to you, right there in that moment just to prove a point but he couldn’t.

You started to speak. “So how—”

All the words flew right out of your head as Rick’s hand clamped tightly down onto your shoulder. Catching you off-guard he easily pushed you, pinning you between him and the side of the truck. One of his legs was slotted between yours. He was leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin when he spoke.

His voice was painfully low. “I bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

You were so off-kilter that you couldn’t even come up with the witty responses that you were in the habit of giving him. He’d never put himself in such a close position with you at work before. You knew him well enough to know that being friendly with Boomerang would get under his skin a little bit. If only you’d known how much—you would’ve done it a hell of a lot sooner.

The digging of his fingertips even through your shirt had you locked in place. It was exciting as it was nerve-wracking, especially since there was a truckload of prisoners just a mere flap of metal away from you. You and Rick had always had different definitions of the term reckless, and this was about as reckless as it got for him. He tried so hard not to let his personal life bleed into the job, and yet here he was. You loved knowing that you could have this effect on him if you tried, even if it was making your knees nearly knock together in the moment.

It could’ve only been a couple seconds that had passed, but you felt like the silence had been stretching on infinitely when you finally managed to try and speak up. “I don’t—”

“You do,” he cut you off. There was the slightest twitch in his hand on your shoulder, a clue that he wanted to put it somewhere else but he stopped himself. Not feeling quite reckless enough for that yet.

“I—”

His voice seemed to drop even lower in volume, not that it dulled the sharp edges of what he was saying to you. “Don’t play dumb now.” He finally released you and stepped back. A professional amount of space existed between you once more. “Let’s go.” He started to walk towards the driver’s side. “We got shit to do.”

You gave yourself until the door on the other side of the vehicle opened. Then you took a deep breath and got yourself swung up into the passenger seat. There were bigger things to worry about for now, and you decided that those bigger things were why you still felt a slight shaking in your legs.

There was never such a thing as a simple mission with Task Force X. Even when things were pitched to you and Rick as easy, or simple, or in-and-out missions, they never seemed to play out that way. You chalked it up to the squad, and also to Waller never giving anyone a straight answer about anything. That usually covered your bases.

This time you had the additional layer of problems stemming from Rick’s attitude for the day. He wasn’t ever warm and fuzzy with the team, but the last time you saw him walking around with such a noticeable chip on his shoulder was back in the days of Midway City. Only this time his frustration wasn’t about the whole team, it was about one team member in particular. Or two, if you included yourself in the count.

Your team didn’t have the luxury of ascribing to the, “no man left behind,” mentality. But even so, it didn’t mean that no one could try at all. And who knows, maybe if someone who wasn’t Harkness had taken a bullet to the thigh, Rick would’ve reacted differently. You didn’t get to find out.

Rick had brushed past him, determined to get to get everything over as quickly as possible. His lack of concern was met with a slew of angry, vulgar remarks from Boomerang, and perhaps rightfully so. You stopped to at least help the man get to his feet, even if you weren’t going to be carrying him or acting as a human crutch for the rest of the mission.

“Flag,” you chastised as you caught up to him.

“What?” he snapped back, matching your tone.

You let your voice drop to just above a whisper. Loud enough for him to hear over everything happening around the two of you, but not so loud that the rest of the team with you was going to catch it.

“You said we’ll sort it at home, so let’s sort it at home.”

He shook his head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? So you’re trying to tell me that there’s nothing different about—”

“That’s exactly what I’m tellin’ you.”

The sound of gunfire up ahead stopped your conversation then and there. You knew that once the chaos had died down, the two of you would get right back into it. There were just more pressing matters to deal with at the moment, like the people pointing their guns at you.

There were no other major injuries to anyone else on the team. A few bumps and scrapes but it looked like Boomerang was the only one who was going to be taking a trip to the medical wing. He would’ve been looking forward to that if it wasn’t currently being preceded by Peacemaker carrying him back to the transport vehicle. No matter how much he struggled and swore, he wasn’t able to break free. It was a comical sight, seeing him draped over Peacemaker’s shoulder—everyone else was getting a kick out of it even if Boomerang wasn’t. Him and Rick.

Rick didn’t say a single word to you the entire drive back. Even when everyone was getting unloaded and sent back to their cells, it felt like he hadn’t even done so much as look at you. It was something that any other day you wouldn’t have noticed, because that’s just how it was when you were both working. But it felt different this time, tense in a way that it didn’t used to be.

He only spoke to you in the parking lot by your cars because you asked him a question that he couldn’t give a yes or no answer to. He didn’t even look at you as he answered it, instead looking down as he dug his keys out of his pocket.

“Yours or mine?” you asked.

“Yours.”

You waited for follow-up commentary that never came. You waited for him to pick back up the argument from earlier, or for him to reignite the jealous streak that he’d had going earlier still. But he gave you nothing as he unlocked the doors to his pickup.

With a roll of your eyes, you followed suit and got into your own car as well. If he wanted to keep stewing on all of this until you both got back to your place, you’d let him. You didn’t bother waiting for him as you peeled out of the parking lot and made your way home. It wasn’t as though he would be lagging that far behind you.

You’d just stepped into the shower at your apartment when you heard the heavy sound of his boots on the floor. You heard them pause outside the bathroom door, and for a moment you found yourself holding your breath and waiting to see if he was going to come in with you. The hesitation had you thinking that he was thinking about doing just that. But then the footsteps continued. The breath you’d been holding came out as a disappointed sigh.

When you were done with your shower, you weren’t expecting to walk into your bedroom to find Rick sitting on the edge of the bed, still dressed in his work save for his boots that were set just off to the side of him, but there he was. His hands were wrapped around the edge of the mattress, head tilted down as he stared at the floor.

“Shower’s yours if you want it,” you said, letting it announce your presence in the process.

That got him to look up at you. His expression wasn’t giving much of anything away, but as his eyes raked up and down your body you caught the way that his jaw clenched. His fingers gripped onto the blanket that covered your mattress just a little tighter as he took in the sight of the stray droplets of water still clinging to your shoulders and neck. Your skin warmed at the realization.

Seeing that he made no move to get up, you walked over to him. You stood between his legs, the rough fabric of his cargo pants a stark contrast to the softness of you skin, legs left exposed by the towel wrapped around you that barely reached the tops of your thighs. He swallowed hard, eyes crawling their way up your body to your face. Now he was in the position of having to look up at you, a position he didn’t find himself in very often. Even though his eyes gave him away, he tried to keep his unbothered façade in place.

“Still not talking to me, then? Came over just to give me the silent treatment in my own home?”

He remained silent, and you were wondering if it was because he was stringing together what it was that he wanted to say, or if he just couldn’t get the words out. Either way, you were painfully curious as to what was going to happen next.

“C’mon,” there was a playful lilt to your tone as you went to cup his face with your hand, “don’t—”

You stopped yourself short when he reached up and grabbed tightly onto your wrist. It didn’t hurt. He’d never hurt you. But his grip was tight enough to prove a point. Your jaw snapped shut as he held onto you, preventing and continuing to keep you from being able to touch his face.

“He doesn’t get to touch you like that,” he finally said, each word spoken low and deep.

His voice, his words, the look on his face, it all sent a wave of chills over your body. The same feeling you had outside the transport earlier, that feeling of being rooted to the ground beneath you, came right back. You couldn’t even bring yourself to reach out and touch him with your other hand.

Your voice came out quieter than you planned. “It wasn’t��” You trailed off as he lowered your hand that he was holding, his grip loosening off your wrist as he started to slide his hand up the bare skin of your arm until it was on your shoulder.

His fingers curled over the curve of your shoulder. “No one gets to touch you like that.”

You took a breath, determined to get a full sentence out this time. “I guess I didn’t think it would bother you so much.”

Whatever snarky, angry response you had been gearing up for, he didn’t deliver. Instead, he pulled you closer, your small step turning into a stumble as your hands landed on his shoulders to brace yourself. His hands instantly went to your waist, fingers digging into the plush fabric of the towel that was wrapped around you. He didn’t break his gaze the entire time.

His tone was even, almost dangerously so. “It did.”

The stubborn part of you was drawing in a breath to tell him that you weren’t sorry, that you weren’t going to apologize, that maybe if he’d just taken the time to talk to you about how he felt or what all of this was maybe the two of you wouldn’t be in this situation. But before you could even get yourself to utter the first syllable, he tightened his grip on your hips and quickly turned the both of you so that you landed on your back on the bed with a surprised yelp.

It took him no time at all to move you both so that you were in the center of the bed. One hand firmly cupped your jaw as he pinned his lips to yours in a heated kiss, a kiss that had you all but melting into the comforter of your bed. Your palms flattened against the planes of muscle across his chest for the briefest moment before you balled the fabric of his shirt into your fists. You pulled him closer to you, as tight as you could manage as you laid beneath him.

He gave into it for a moment as his tongue slipped past your lips into your mouth. You moaned at the sensation, his tongue on yours, the way the tips of his fingers were starting to press harder into your jaw. You were about to loop your legs around his waist, lock yourself to him, when he pulled away from you.

You were gasping for breath, fingers still gripping his shirt as he pulled back. Bringing his hand away from your jaw, he brought both hands to the top edge of the towel you were wearing. His fingers wrapped around the hem of it, he finally pried his gaze away from your face. He peeled the towel open, letting both sides of it fall away from you, leaving you completely exposed. His tongue ran along his bottom lip as he drank in the sight of you lying beneath him.

The rise of his chest as he pulled in a deep breath was impossible to miss. Your hands moved from his chest up to the sides of his neck, fingers interlocking at the nape of it as you pulled him back down into another kiss. He gave in without a fight, leaning his body weight onto you as he kissed you, hands racing down your sides, of your hips and onto your thighs.

His lips strayed from yours, dragging along to your jaw and down to your neck, leaving small, quick nips along the way. He moved down to your chest, lips and tongue teasing as they traveled over your breasts, pulling one taut nipple into his mouth and sucking on it in a way that had you whimpering and squirming in pleasure beneath him before he moved and repeated the process with the other.

“Rick,” his name fell from your lips, needy and breathless as you tangled your fingers into his hair. It was the only thing you could get yourself to say as he sucked a mark into the plush skin of your breast.

He kissed his way down your stomach, peppering a trail of kisses across your hips before moving down to your thighs. His teeth grazed along the soft, sensitive skin on the insides of your legs, the sensation making you drape your legs over his shoulders out of pure instinct.

His lips grazed over your folds, enough to feel how wet you were, not enough to give you any relief because of it. You tried to lift your hips and he immediately slid his arms and placed his hands so that they were pinning your hips to the bed once more. You whined, hands tugging at his hair.

Then you felt his tongue running up your slit, teasing you in a way that had you shuddering beneath him. You tried to pull him closer with no success, resigning yourself to his whim now. He might not have been able to say or do anything before, but he was the one in control now.

He kissed your core, tongue darting out until he switched and wrapped his lips around your clit. You moaned as his tongue ran over the nerves, causing your thighs to clamp around either side of his head.

“Fuck, Rick,” you moaned, grip on his hair loosening just enough to lightly drag your fingernails along his scalp. “Don’t stop.”

You felt one of his hands move from your hip and for a moment you were worried that he was going to stop just because you had asked him not to. You lifted your head up off the mattress, looking down at the sight of him nestled between your thighs. The way he looked had the breath getting caught in the back of your throat. Then he opened his eyes, looking up at you with his mouth still pressed to your core. You opened your mouth to try and say something when you felt two of his fingers pressing lightly against your slit. He covered them with your slick before pushing them into you, not breaking his eye contact with you as he did. The moan you let out had him tightening his grip on your hip, sucking harder on your clit as you writhed beneath his touch.

When he felt the way your thighs began to tremble, starting to clench tighter around him, he picked up the pace even more. Even though it was muffled, he could still hear the string of curses you let out the closer you got to your climax, the desperate way you said his name as you begged him to make you cum.

Seconds later your walls tightened around his fingers, your hips bucking up off the bed as you came. He worked you through it, his fingers and lips coated in your release as he refused to let up. He kept going even when your hands were pushing his shoulders, whining from the overstimulation. Your legs trembled as they hung limply over his shoulders, unable to muster up the strength to pull him closer or push him away.

You let out a trembling breath when he pulled his fingers out of you. He pressed one more kiss to the inside of your thigh before crawling his way back up your body. Without a beat of hesitation he caught your lips with his, tongue instantly running over yours allowing you to taste yourself off of him.

The friction of the rough fabric of his pants against your sensitive, naked core had you whining into his mouth as he kissed you. Still, instead of pushing him away, you started to undo his belt buckle. The second he pressed his body flush to yours again you’d felt how hard he was. Now you just wanted him inside you.

Undoing the button and zipper on his pants, wasted no time pushing both his pants and his underwear down off his hips in one motion. Rick barely took the time to kick them the rest of the way off before pushing into you.

The low moan of pleasure that he let out turned into your name as he bottomed out inside you. He pressed a harsh, needy kiss to your lips before letting his head drop into the crook of your neck. He gave you a couple long, slow thrusts to adjust before picking up the pace in a way that communicated all of his desperation for you. Your nails sank into his shoulders as he pounded into you, just looking for something to keep you tethered as you started to see stars behind your eyes all over again.

He nipped at your neck and shoulder as he pulled your legs so that they were looped tighter around him. He buried himself inside you, coaxing you along when you whimpered out that you were going to cum again. He pressed a kiss right below your ear, the praise he was whispering to you, calling you his, was enough to send you tumbling over the edge. He fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts beginning to falter as he felt your walls clenching around him. A few more sharp snaps of his hips had him spilling inside you.

He collapsed against you, fighting to catch his breath as his hear rested against your chest. He could hear the fast beat of your heart against his ear, and you could feel the quick breaths he was taking as he looped his arms around you. His touch was soft, gentle in a way it hadn’t been just moments before.

You rested one hand on the back of his head, the other between his shoulder blades. You idly toyed with strands of his hair as you let your eyes close. Neither of you said anything for a few minutes, instead choosing to revel in the silence and the closeness that came with it. It also gave you each a little while longer to catch your breath.

Eyes still closed, you spoke up, your voice soft but light. “So, you wanna talk about it?” you asked with a quiet laugh.

He was still laying on your chest. You didn’t know for sure but you were willing to bet that his eyes were closed too. “About what?” he replied in a half-mumble.

You dragged your fingers up and down his spine, pressing through his shirt. “Oh, so we’re just going to pretend you haven’t been angry and jealous all day? Gonna pretend that’s not where this came from?” You kept your tone upbeat enough so that it wouldn’t descend into an argument. That wasn’t what you were looking for.

It worked, too, because it got him to let out a laugh. “Wasn’t all day.”

You shook your head, would’ve rolled your eyes if they were open. “You’re such a pain.”

“And you’re not?” he joked right back. He lifted his head to look at you, which got you to open your eyes. “You gonna try and sit there and pretend you weren’t doing that shit to get under my skin?”

You smirked, giving a half-hearted shrug. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Why wouldn’t—”

“Oh, c’mon, Rick. We’ve been doing this song and dance for how long now? And we…you never…” You reached up to drag your hands down your face. “We’ve never talked about it. I figured that was your nice way of saying…you know.”

He frowned at that. “Oh.”

You laughed, letting your head drop back to the mattress again. “Good talk.”

He chuckled, pulling away from you just enough so that he could shift and lay beside you. It was easier to look at you that way as he propped his elbow and rested his head in the palm of his hand. “I never said anythin’ because I figured you knew.”

You rolled onto your side to face him. “Knew what?”

His other hand tenderly grazed along your cheek, the callouses on his fingers not feeling harsh in the slightest. “How I feel about you.”

You leaned into his touch. “I’m not a mind reader, you know,” you said with a small laugh. “And, you know,” you placed your hand over his, “you’re not exactly the most open book.”

He cracked a small grin. “No?”

You laughed. “No.”

He was still smiling as he dragged the pad of his thumb along your cheek. “Well, now you know.”

You nodded. “Now I know.”

He pulled you in close to him, tucking your head beneath his chin. You settled into him with ease, the way you had so many times before. He held you tight enough so that you could feel his heartbeat thudding against the side of your face.

He pressed a lazy kiss to the top of your head before saying, “Harkness ever puts a hand on you again though, I’m chopping the fuckin’ thing off.”

You laughed, patting his chest in a joking, reassuring manner. “Sure you are.”

Suicide Squad Taglist: @garbinge @artemiseamoon @words-and-seeds @thrnlvr (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

[floralcyanide]

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰'𝒎 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒀𝒐𝒖, 𝑰 𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝑨𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆

ed baldwin x gn!reader

Upon hearing bad news, Ed just needs someone there for him.

warnings: spoilers for For All Mankind, child death, minor character death, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/ comfort, cuddling, just friends but also mutually crushing type vibes

word count: 1271

author's note: here's the ed angst I've had bouncing around in my head. I feel it's kind of uneventful, but I had to write this and share it with the world because I love putting characters I love through the wringer for no reason. enjoy!

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You had watched helplessly as Ed destroyed the Soviet camera. It was seated in an open space between rocks and neatly covered up until Ed ripped the boulders off and over his shoulder. There wasn’t much you could do as he took his pickaxe and savagely mangled the camera. 

Earlier, both of you had received a message about Ed’s son from the Soviets with them offering their condolences. You both were confused, and when Ed asked you to clarify, you were no help. No one from Houston had told you anything. Gordo had been acting a little weird, but it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. You suggested maybe the Soviets had been listening to your messages to your families, and there was a mix-up in translation. Either way, Ed was angry that the Soviets would even bother to mess with his head like that. So he took it out on the spy camera, much to your dismay. You hoped the Soviets wouldn’t get angry and try to harm either of you. 

Now, you and Ed were shedding your suits in the chamber before returning to the base. Once you get back inside, you immediately head for the cupboards for something to eat. Even if the food was disgusting, it did its job. You sit at the makeshift kitchen counter as Ed enters the main area. Suddenly, you hear a voice coming from the comms.

“Ed? Are you there? Ed?”

You turn in your seat at the table and watch as Ed cautiously walks to the comms screen. His ex-wife Karen is on the call, appearing very emotional. 

“It’s Shane,” Karen says, her voice cracking as she puts her hand on the screen.

Ed’s face twists into a look of shock and horror, tears brimming his eyes. His seemingly unlikely fear had come to fruition. You freeze in your seat, realizing something did happen to his son, Shane, as the Soviets insinuated. Condolences are only given when someone dies… That’s when it hits you. Ed collapses to his knees, burying his face in his hands. You’re unsure of what to do, still sitting in your seat with your food on the table in front of you. You push it aside as Ed shakily reaches up to turn off the communications. He didn’t want to hear the details of what happened right now.

“Ed?” you call softly, getting up from your sitting position and slowly walking toward him, “Are you alright?”

Ed doesn’t say a word but instead snatches the bottle of alcohol from a nearby table before spinning the top off.

“Oh no, you don’t,” you say, pulling the bottle away from Ed, “That will only make things worse.”

Ed can hardly look at you, tears falling freely down his face. He would never tell you this, but he hates looking weak, especially in front of you. He admires you in many ways, and he hates you having to see him falling apart like this. The chemistry between you was apparent, but those feelings were being shoved aside for now.

Ed walks a few short steps into the main area, where some chairs are splayed out, and he takes a seat on the floor. You sit next to him as he rubs his hands over his face. Ed punches the wall next to him angrily before pounding it again and again. You grab ahold of his wrist, stopping him mid-punch before he can split his knuckles open any further.

“Edward,” you say sternly, looking at him with concern. His eyes slowly meet yours for the first time.

You reach your hands toward Ed’s face, taking it into your grasp before moving in front of him. He lets his head relax into your palms and casts his eyes downward.

“Look at me,” you say softly as your own tears begin to burn in your eyes.

Ed’s eyes travel up to yours.

“There we go. I know this is a horrible situation, but you’re strong, and you’ve got this. You have to stay vigilant.”

“But he’s gone, Y/N,” Ed whispers, “He’s gone, and I’m here, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“You can stay focused and be tough for Shane. That’s all you can do right now, and I’m so sorry,” you frown, sniffing as tears run down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry you’re stuck here. I really am.”

Ed’s eyes squeeze shut as another wave of realization hits him. Sobs wracked his body, and you pulled his head to your chest, stroking his hair comfortingly.

“You’ll be okay. It will take time, but you will be okay again,” you say as you let Ed cry into your shirt.

You shuffle over to the wall, letting your back rest against it as Ed buries his face in your lap, curling up into himself. All you can do is run your hand over his back and through his hair as he pours out his grief. Seeing the man you look up to and have feelings for break down like this was odd, but losing a child is unfathomable. And Ed didn’t have anyone other than Shane after his and Karen’s divorce, except his colleagues, of course. But Ed had no one to run to when everything was falling apart. He especially had no one now except you, literally. Almost a quarter of a million miles away from home with no one else around to ease his pain. At least Ed wasn’t completely alone.

You feel Ed relaxing into your lap, and you figure he’s falling asleep.

“Ed? Let’s get you to your bunk, alright?”

Ed hums in response, except when you expect him to get up, he doesn’t. He turns over, presses his face to your stomach, and wraps his arms around your waist. Butterflies erupt in your belly at the close proximity. You adored Ed, but you didn’t want to take advantage of him right now when he couldn’t think straight. 

“Ed,” you draw out, but he ignores you.

Reluctantly, you move Ed off you and stand up, offering him a hand to pull him up. He takes it and stands up, brushing himself off and avoiding your gaze once again. He doesn’t let go of your hand the whole way to the bunks, and you don’t go of his either.

You watch as Ed climbs inside his bunk, and you prepare to climb into your own below his.

“Will you stay?” Ed asks quietly, and you almost don’t hear him.

“I’ll be right below you the whole time, Ed,” you say, not wanting to cross any boundaries.

“Please?”

You pause, taking a deep breath. Yes, you’re lonely, but not so much that you’d do something frowned upon. However, a situation like this just doesn’t happen- kids aren’t supposed to die before their parents. Especially when one of their parents is on the Moon. But you’d want someone to comfort you if you lost someone you loved.

You exhale slowly before climbing into Ed’s bunk and lying beside him. He reaches over you to pull the curtain closed. For a moment, the both of you just stare at each other. But you hesitantly reach out your hand to pull Ed to you. He ignores you, pulling you into him instead. You wrap your arms around him as he buries his face into your neck, tears falling onto your skin. The both of you stay like that for a while, just holding each other as Ed cries. You let him tucker himself out before falling asleep yourself. 

You aren’t sure what tomorrow will hold, but you’ll be there for Ed despite it all.

[tomorrowedblog]

Friday Releases for October 11

Friday is the busiest day of the week for new releases, so we've decided to collect them all in one place. Friday Releases for October 11 include DISCLAIMER*, We Live In Time, Metaphor: ReFantazio, and more.

We Live In Time

We Live In Time, the new movie from John Crowley, is out today.

Almut (Florence Pugh) and Tobias (Andrew Garfield) are brought together in a surprise encounter that changes their lives. As they embark on a path challenged by the limits of time, they learn to cherish each moment of the unconventional route their love story has taken, in filmmaker John Crowley’s decade-spanning, deeply moving romance.

Bad Genius

Bad Genius, the new movie from J.C. Lee, is out today.

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Welcome to the Demon Realm!

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End Of Summer

End Of Summer, the new album from DeJ Loaf, is out today.

[justreblogginfics]

Oh my heart!!!!!

First of all, I just love how you write Rick Flag so much, you write him so amazingly! Him and his personality and his mannerisms, I love it!

This fic was so amazing! I love this relationship, it just made my heart flutter and ache for them! How they started and where they are now is just so perfect! 🥹

Gif credit: @footballbackgrounds

i can still see the smoke. i can still smell the fire.

rick flag x reader

summary: "sometimes i think maybe this is my true penance for all the wrong i've done. getting to have you in my arms, but never truly being able to hold you."

word count: 9k

a/n: i? finished? this????? i seriously worked and reworked this for nearly two weeks and finally got it to a place i like enough to post (: my first time writing for flag (and writing anything in quite a while) so be gentle

i hope you enjoy (:

You had a special talent. It wasn’t overtly unique and wasn’t something particularly hard to come by, you just happened to be the very best available.

Amanda Waller had known this, and it was why she recruited you in the first place, and it was why she had you sat in a dive bar in the middle of nowhere Montana. She knew your abilities were best attributed to a recon mission like this one, and she knew that no matter what the task would take to compete, you would make sure to see it through. The nano-explosive in your brain stem not your only incentive, the other in the form of a burly brown haired Colonel.

She hadn’t originally thought that you could be another pawn to play to keep Rick Flag’s loyalty, but it seemed that the universe had dropped your affections for each other in her lap and she was happy to exploit them.

In her very meager defense, you also had not expected to become so infatuated with him, or that he'd find his way into your chest and stamp his insignia on your heart.

You hadn't thought he’d be a problem in the beginning. You hadn’t thought the bubble of emotion that formed in your stomach at his sight was anything more than lust and the thrill of the impending conquest. You had felt the same thrill jolt down your spine when you saw the multitudes of other guards, rangers and soldiers had been funneled through the machine in the hopes of taming you. To you, all they were was flesh, blood, and opportunity. Nothing more than a means to an end. A way out.

“Heard you’ve fucked up more guards than anyone in this damned place,” he had said to you in his southern lilt.

He shadowed a dower looking Amanda Waller, her bulldog expression locked on you as you meticulously polished your toenails.

The viper’s smile that spread across your oiled lips worked as your answer.

Both the lip balm and nail varnish were contraband that you had procured through batted eyelashes and pulled heart strings of the weakest men and women who surrounded you on the daily. It wasn’t unusual that you would be in possession of prohibited items. In your first week behind bars at Belle Reve, you had weaseled your way into many of the guards lives and consciousnesses, and had begun a promising stockpile of vending machine snacks and gossip magazines.

“You the new watchman?” you asked, eyes still on your paint job as you ran the edge of your fingernail across your skin to catch the pink polish on your cuticle.

“This is Colonel Rick Flag. And he sure as hell isn’t a new plaything for you to maim, (Y/L/N),” Waller chided, “he’s here to operate as your captain once you take me up on my proposal.”

It was only when she spoke his name that you looked up from your primping to take him in.

The glance you had acquired upon their entry had not done him justice, and the shock of his handsome features caused Waller’s cryptic proposition to fall on deaf ears. He was beautiful; with hazel eyes rimmed with dark lashes, high cheekbones, and an angular jaw covered in sparse facial hair. He was thick, well toned and tall, something you could tell even from his distance. As you followed the thick cords of muscle of his exposed forearms to his hands, you watched as thick fingers flexed at his sides and you couldn’t help the fleeting notion that they would feel delicious against your bare skin.

You would have never imagined that in just one short year, Rick would be pulling you away from life saving missions to pin you himself with his mouth and those very same fingers.

You often wondered if Waller knew at that moment how taken you were with Rick. If she had chalked your salivating up to deadly glee over a new victim to ensnare, or if she knew that he piqued you in a different way. You wondered if she thought Rick’s ruddy skin and ticking jaw were due to his disgust for criminals, or if she knew it was due to his flustering and overwhelming attraction to you.

It was something you would never know, and most days, didn’t want the answer to.

Amanda Waller saw all, but your connection with the colonel was something so strange that even she could not have predicted it. She already had her contingency plan with Flag and June, surely adding you to the mix would have been overkill. At least, that’s what you told yourself as your skin burned with his scarce touches and your heart hammered when he met your eyes with a simple smile.

Earlier on that day, when you and Harley secluded yourselves from the hordes of men around you to suit up, you had assured her that Flag would be your next victim.

A means to an end.

A pawn to play to get us out.

When you were both free to roam Gotham City, you and Harley had crossed paths on occasion and had both seen the other’s crimes up close. She knew your strategies, your games and abilities. She knew of your easy seductions and the effortless control you took over the weak willed (and some not so weak) that fell into your trap.

But as the day progressed, your ruse began to fall flat, your emotions becoming much more genuine than fabricated. The dry banter and sarcastic jokes traded between you and your commander caused genuine joy to seize in your chest and sting your cheeks. His concerned expressions and soft inquiries of your well being after each altercation feeding a need for honest affection that you had done your best to bury years ago.

And as the final crescendo of battle ended and Rick embraced a newly freed June Moone, your relieved demeanor turned lovelorn and sour at the sight of their reunion. Though, as quick as you could comprehend the falter in your expression, you had disguised it by grabbing your wounded side.

When the helicopter had arrived to usher your squad back to Belle Reve, you heard Waller bark for June and Rick to join her in her own private plane. When Harley had moved to link her paper white pinky through your own in comfort, you knew that anyone who had been looking your way could see through your farce, including Waller.

You refused to look back at him to see if he spared you a glance of his own. If you had, you would have met the gaze of a very emotionally muddled man.

Months later it had become clear to most that your relationship with Rick was not just that of colleagues, most glaringly so to Amanda. She had been monitoring your juvenile flirting through the coms you both wore in your ears, saw the warm looks you exchanged and your affectionate body language. She even spotted with her eagle eye vision the lingering hand Rick would leave on the hollow of your back before handing you over to Belle Reve staff. The small, panicked gasps you would take when Rick was being ambushed and his insistence to locate you before doing anything else on the battlefield was also observed by Waller with devious glee.

You without a doubt that she had seen you slip up in Midway City and was alert to your interactions with Rick, when she supposedly accidently told you that Rick would be commanding every subsequent Task Force X mission. He would be immediately relocated from D.C. to Louisiana, and would be transferred from any remaining ARGUS work.

“He’s proved a suitable leader,” she’d said, “he has the chops to keep you people in line.”

Amanda Waller chose her words precisely and articulated them like a weapon. She wasn’t the type of woman to have a slip of the tongue.

While this registered to you, and set off a flare of worry in your brain about what the notoriously calculating woman could do to you, the way your heart began to race at the idea of Rick becoming a permanent fixture in your life drowned out any reasonable doubt or anxiety.

After the first Task Force assignment, you both had begun to build up a foundation of trust and camaraderie with each other.

Your relationship should have felt strange, you were two people as opposite as they come.

He had been raised in a loving military home in Louisiana with a white picket fence and home cooked dinners. You had been kidnapped and coerced into a life of crime by a couple of mad men who conditioned you with pain and terror.

While you were plunging a knife into their respective throats when you finally saw your chance to escape; Flag was graduating the top of his class at West Point.

When you were stealing gems, talking your way into dying billionaires' wills and wracking up assault charges; Rick was working with the Navy Seals, getting his first serious girlfriend and discovering his love for golf and triathlons.

But somehow, you both worked. You were both tough, committed and ruthless. You both loved rainy Sundays, bagel’s from Lucy’s in downtown Gotham, black and white television and the smell of cedarwood. You both hated when people said “pacifically” when they meant “specifically”, the waxy taste of apple skins and the feeling of warming up your extremities after being in the cold. You both grinned knowingly at the other when an old joke would surface; roll your eyes at the other’s incessant teasing; and grow warm and flustered when the other was too close in proximity.

“Oh god, you would like Tom Clancy books,” you snorted a laugh.

Rick put on an affronted expression, “what? And you don’t? He is a damn good author.”

“I’m not saying he’s some dime-a-dozen guy, I’m just saying that he writes books for masculinity glutens with a hard on for guns.”

“I think you just described someone like me, darlin’.”

He sounded amused and it made you smile, “you’re much more than a masculinity gluten with a boner for bullets, Flag.”

“Ya? Am I?” he stopped in his tracks so he could look down at you with a cocked brow.

“Of course,” you replied, “you’re also a pretty face.”

He snorted and shook his head.

(A week after you returned from that operation, a paper package was smuggled to you by your newest mark in the prison. It’s contents? Without Remorse by Tom Clancy, with the scrawled signature of R. Flag on the inside cover.) (You felt so fat with happiness that you thought you might split at your seams).

You seemed to talk about anything and everything with him, no topic too serious or sill to borscht. You loved learning everything about him, soaking up the knowledge and using it to sustain you on lonely nights in your cell.

Although, something that your extensive conversations with your captain did not entail, were mentions of Dr. Moone. After you had seen first hand the lengths he had gone to save her, you had just assumed that she was the all important love in his life. You assumed there would come a day when you’d board the helicarrier to spot a ring laying purchase on his forefinger, and you’d have to cough up a well-wished sentiment for him and his bride.

You had tried to bring her up, but Rick always seemed to work around her mention whenever possible. Odd, as he seemed anything but chaste and hesitant when he had pulled her from the Enchantress’ corpse and held onto her for dear life.

He kept mention of her so closeted that if you had not been in Midway City, you might not even know that he was a man spoken for, especially with the coquettish demeanor he held around you.

Ruminating on the reasons why or why not he wouldn’t talk about June with you was anything but healthy. Were you his secret? His emotional mistress? Was he embarrassed of his life? Of her? Of you? Did he not trust you as much as he let on? You couldn’t find an apt conclusion that made perfect sense.

Eventually, you did get your answer, when you had offhandedly commented on a new watch he wore and had asked if it had been a gift from June.

“June, she, uh, she didn’t buy it. She, well, she didn’t buy it and won’t be buying things...” his jumbled words came out in awkward intervals and you could tell there was a tender pain behind them.

It was her first and last mention from him, and you couldn’t help but feel the jealousy in your stomach simmer and cease knowing that you were now the only woman in Rick’s life. And the only woman he wanted at all.

A month after Rick had confessed his split from June, your relationship boiled over to the place of no return. Spilling your emotions and sullying any professional integrity Rick still masqueraded and any notion that you were just a femme fatale out to pick him apart.

You were somewhere in South Africa fighting a Superman-wannabe. You had already lost a handful of Rick’s men, along with a second rate thief that you never bothered to learn the name of. For most of the fight, your fire power felt like offence, just deflecting his power but doing nothing to damage him. As you watched the carnage the space man brought down around you all, you couldn’t help but think that the only way you were making it out alive was if you found a place to hide and wait out the worst of it. If it weren’t for the bomb in your neck and Rick and Harley fighting tirelessly on the frontlines, you would have.

After what felt like an eon of fighting ray vision, teleportation, and super strength; the tremor the alien had been emanating into the earth stopped and the crumbled ground under your feet finally ceased it’s vigorous rumble. The air soon rang silent and his presence had completely vanished from the sky.

Without any confirmation that the threat had been defeated, other than the terrified locals slowly emerging from their hiding spots, you let out a pant of relief. You could finally hear your labored wheeze and the blood pulsing in your ears. Without the distraction of battle and the race of adrenaline, you now felt the full weight of your injuries. You likely had a dislocated shoulder, a broken ankle, and a litany of scrapes and cuts that would need medical attention, but you couldn’t care. It had by far been your most grueling Task Force mission to date, and all you could do was collapse onto the graveled remains of the city and hope for a long respite from the action.

Until you heard your name.

At first his call didn’t register. You were exhausted and focused on slowing your respiration rate. You had your uninjured arm over your head as you took deep steady breaths to calm and center yourself away from the searing aches in your body. Shamefully, you hadn’t even thought of your teammates’ fate yet, too focused on not vomiting from Co2 intake and pain. But, when he had come closer, your voice being screamed with terror and determination, you snapped back to the reality of your situation.

Rick.

Rick was calling your name.

Rick was alive and he was calling your name.

Your heart picked up once more, all actions to self soothe forgotten, as you pitifully tried to scramble to your feet in search of him. The wordless thrum of your pulsing blood now sounded so much like his name.

Rick. Rick. Rick. It beat in a study rhythm to drive you up onto your feet and to him.

As you hobbled on shaky legs and used the rebar next to you as a crutch, Rick came into your field of vision.

Worse for wear but still a sight for sore eyes, there he stood. Honeyed hair black with soot and arms bloodied from the attack. His shirt was torn at the collar and he had long lost his tactile jacket and vest. He looked like a man stripped. A man who had seen hell and lived to tell the tale, and he was staring at you with eyes bulging with fear and a grimace on his lips.

When he recognized that it was you who he’d found supported by a block of cement, the thankful relief that washed over him was tangible. His chest deflated, his shoulders sagged and his expression made the seamless transition to pure relief.

He whispered your name once more before he ran to you, borderline sprinted with the energy he had left.

“Rick, I-” you began but didn’t finish before he collected you in his arms and held you firm and steady to his chest.

“Where the hell were you? I couldn’t fuckin’ find you,” his words wavered with unshed tears and pent up anxiety.

“Hey,” you hushed him, as you dug your fingers into the tattered fabric of his shirt, “It’s alright. I’m ok. I’m ok and so are you.”

You felt his chest hiccup against your own and your stomach clenched.

“You can’t, baby, God, fuck… you just, nothing can happen to you. I need you right here, I need you here,” he spoke with such unflinching conviction and raw emotion you felt your own tears strain in your throat and sting your eyes.

“Ok. Ok, Rick. I’m here. I’m with you, I’m with you as long as you want.”

He held you with a hand pressed to the base of your neck and his other on your lower back to push you flush to him. One of your own hands was still tangled in the cotton of his shirt, while the other mimicked his own as it lay on the nape of his neck. His face was buried in the side of your head, just above your ear. Your own was snug under jaw, your nose firmly planted in his neck to inhale his intoxicating scent.

Sweat and gunpowder and iron and cedarwood.

A loud crash from afar jolted you both from the brief calm you had stolen to jolt you apart from one another just long enough to locate the noise’s origin. Once you both realized it was not a threat, and just King Shark moving a large piece of scaffolding, you relaxed again.

The moment of forgotten circumstances had passed, and it seemed Flag knew this as he sighed, his forehead coming down to rest on your own.

“What a fuckin’ mess this’ll was…”

“You’re telling me,” you chuckled humorlessly, shifting your weight away from your hurt ankle that had begun to throb again.

“And yet,” he was quick to reply, “and yet, durin’ all that space monster alien bullshit, all I could think about was you.”

Your eyes moved from where they were planted at your feet to his own, which were closed. You felt his hands migrate from the other continents on your body to cup your cheeks.

“All I ever think about is you, darlin’. Every mission, every operation, my mind is on the objective, sure. But in the back of my head just chirpin’ away is this voice that needs to know where you are. Needs to know if you’re safe, needs to come up with somethin’ to say to make you laugh or somethin’ to say to make you slap my chest the way you do just so I can be close to you…” he swallowed thickly and finally opened his eyes.

They were as kind and impassioned as you’d ever seen them, with something extra that you could only pin down as love.

“And, just, when I’m not with ya? You’re still… you’re still there. Do you get what I’m saying? What I’m trying to say? That you have been runnin’ around my head every second of every minute since the moment I saw you.”

Your lips parted and you could feel your jaw shake with the prospect of speaking. Your eyes glazed with tears and you swore your heart was pounding as hard as it was in your chest so it could break through your rib cage to reach him. You wouldn’t mind if it had. It was already his, what would be the problem if he had it in his possession?

“But, it’s not just me… is it? This isn’t a one way street, right?” the tenderness from his confession had left him soft and exposed, his voice breaking with fear, you realized, because you had yet to say a word.

“Of course it's not. Oh, Rick,” you choked out, forcing yourself to speak.

“It’s not just you. It never was. I was always here, I am here.”

You moved to cup your hand around one of his own that lay on your face. You wiggled your fingers between his palm and your skin so you could grip him and show him the gravity of what you had just said.

The fear was wiped from his face once more, and you were rewarded with a boyish smile. You watched as his skin turned pink and the tips of his ears burned the same. You never once in your life had seen a person so beautiful. Happiness just looked so good on him.

You couldn’t help but to smile back, a gurgled laugh thick with emotion came from your throat and he returned it with a lovesick giggle. You felt his hands fasten themselves tighter against your cheeks, and he let his nose descend upon your own, brushing the tip all along your face. He ran it down the bridge of your nose; over the apple of your cheek, around the curve of your ear; down your jaw and up your chin until his lips hovered over your own; and he paused.

You could smell his breath and the shadowy scent of his aftershave with his proximity. You tilted your chin just a hair closer to his face and swore you could already taste him in the damp erotic air between you.

With a shaky exhale and a cautious lick into his parted mouth, Rick responded in tandem with the gentle brush of his lips against yours. It was just a tease, just an introduction to what was to come, and after he heard your needy whimper, it seemed he couldn’t hold back any longer as pressed his mouth to yours once more. But this time with more passion, with far more hunger and with a notable eagerness.

Rick groaned deep and sweet with pleasure. He finally had you. He had captured you once and for all and you didn’t want to escape.

It became the worst kept secret in Louisiana and beyond that you and Colonel Rick Flag were something of an item. Something that outwardly, Waller disparaged and scoffed at, something that she waxed on about to her superiors that she was taking care of. Inwardly, it was thought of as a high achievement, and helped tack on an inch to her height and blow wind into her already inflated ego.

June and Rick had been her first orchestration, and she used their bond until it had run dry. Without Rick’s heart or the Enchantress’ possession, it was easy to banish Dr. Moone from her mental rolodex of pawns and move onto her next pet project. Eventually, when you lost your novelty to Rick; when your sob story no longer endeared him and he was bored of your crassness; she would rid herself of you, too. You were helpful, sure, but no criminal was worth the success of her vision.

For the time being, she worked with the angle she could to achieve the best mission outcomes, by having you and Flag work together and work twice as hard as to protect the other. It was why she turned a blind eye to your stolen kisses and rushed love making in the bathrooms of government planes. It was why she knew that you would be the perfect operative to send to rural Montana and corner the notoriously private and standoffish Dr. Denis Krane, a mad scientist on the run with vital United States intel and ARGUS secrets.

“Huntsville is a forgotten town, just shy of off the grid. The weather this time of year calls for intense snowfall and below freezing temperatures. Because of this, you will be spending the night in a secure motel to regroup and rest before the three of you are extracted back to Louisiana in the morning,” she did her best to repress the sneer that came across her face as both you and Rick suddenly became much more interested in the operation. Robert DuBois, who would also be accompanying you both on the mission, only rolled his eyes at your intrigue.

“I do not think I need to remind either of you about the contingency for your brief stint with freedom, do I?” Amanda glanced between you and DuBois, who didn’t have a problem holding back his own sneer. Rick’s excitement turned tart at the mention.

Your mission was to make contact with Dr. Krane, seduce him and retrieve the information he kept on his person at all times: a small flash drive full of shady dealings and blackmail material.

When Waller had described it to you earlier in the day, you almost laughed. You had been pulling schemes like this on old, lonely men since you were sixteen. The work you were expected to do would take far less than the time she allotted, and then you were granted a full night alone in a motel room with your boyfriend? You started to wonder what exactly the catch was. But you chose not to dwell, you were never given ample time with Rick to simply relax and enjoy each other’s company without the looming threat of the end of the world crashing around you. You were going to savor this opportunity.

Now, as you sat sidled up against him in a garishly designed bar, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever felt this content before in your life. Rick’s arm was slung around your shoulders, gently stroking your shoulder, with your nose buried in the column of his neck. You drew diagonal lines on his jugular and mandibular muscle as your hand followed a similar pattern on his abdomen.

Rick looked just about as pleased as you felt, leaning down regularly to press soft kisses to your hairline and to chuck under your chin up so he could press his mouth to your own in a sensual embrace that never failed to leave Robert gagging.

“You do really have to do that while I’m right across from ya?” he asked after the fourth or fifth time Rick indulged in you.

“You jealous, DuBois?” Rick smarmed, never taking his eyes from your own as you both shamelessly ogled the other.

“Yeah,” you followed in a saccharine voice, “jealous?”

“Please, don’t make me retch,” he scoffed into his glass of bourbon.

You snorted, “don’t act like you don’t look at my ass every time I turn around. I may not have eyes on the back of my head, but Harley sure does love to gossip.”

Robert’s mouth opened to reply but came up mum.

“You’re doin’ what now?” Rick’s temper flared around the edges of his voice and a warm well in your stomach began to boil.

“What I’m doin’ is going to get another drink and wait for this bloke,” he retorted blandly before he made his escape from the booth in favor of a puckered vinyl stool at the bar.

“With a name like Bloodsport, you wouldn’t expect him to run away scared.”

“You sayin’ I ain’t scary, sweetheart?” he smirked down at you, his blush pink lips quirked.

“Not even close,” you said, “you’re very scary, baby. My big, scary attack dog who seizes to kill any man who looks at my ass.”

“Damn fuckin’ right,” he replied as he zeroed in on your lips again.

Kissing Rick was unlike anything you had ever experienced. His lips were petal soft and marzipan sweet, his kiss was firm and held fiery passion each time. His hands touched you with a confidence and certainty that never failed to make your blood thrum with pleasure. His arms held you tightly and with the most delicious hint of possessiveness. Everything he did to you set your nerve endings on fire and tingled your fingers with their blissful buzz. You were of the devout belief that anything Rick did to you, he’d do it damn good.

Rick ran two fingers over the skin of your shoulder, having snuck his hand past the collar of your shirt as you continued your idle chit chat. You’d taken to manipulating and massaging the muscles of his left biceps. He strained the arm a week before in a mission and had been complaining about its painful tenderness since. At first you thought his unease was due to his injury, until you noticed just how considerably he was leaning into your touch and knew something else was wrong.

“Hey? Earth to Flag. What’s up?” you asked with lingering worry, pressing a chaste kiss to his collarbone to call him from his mind.

He turned his head from where he had been staring down to you. When he met your concerned gaze, he sighed.

“Just DuBois, that’s all.”

You grinned, “Still getting over the fact that your friend thinks I have a nice ass?”

But you didn’t elicit a laugh like you’d hoped, instead he grumbled deep in his chest.

“S’not just that. He keeps fuckin’ lookin’ over to us. Just don’t like it,” as he spoke he pulled you closer to him.

“It’s his mission, too. He’s just doing what he’s told,” you replied, not bothered in the slightest by the older man’s presence, especially now that he was across the room and giving you and Rick some much needed privacy.

“Just wish it wasn’t,” he muttered, “makes this all feel like a fuckin’ job and not a night out like we deserve.”

Rick was the idealistic one of the pair of you. He believed firmly that if you worked enough for the Suicide Squad and strived to become a model prisoner, you would be released on bail from Belle Reve in no time. He had a picture of a little house in NoLa, a garden out back, a dog for him and a cat for you. He pictured himself retiring to a desk job or taking up his old job at ARGUS while you pursued anything your heart desired. He’d told you on more than one occasion that he had no problem supporting you fully until you found what you were passionate about.

“All I need is you, darlin’. Everything else, we’ll figure out.”

But you, hardened by life and cynical of the universe's ability to do right, weren’t as positive. You recognized that Rick’s dream was only granted to those who had a great deal of luck, something you stopped believing in a long time ago. Whatever omnipotent being watched over the universe had dealt you a dead hand of misgivings, tragedy and the instruction card that comes in the back. The life Rick envisioned only happened if Amanda Waller saw fit to it, if the negligent and corrupt heads of Belle Reve allowed it. And those were all powers that you believed were far more mighty than any karma or good deed points you’d racked up.

But, you rarely had the heart to tell your beloved of these factors. That Waller would rather see you dead than free, and that Belle Reve had granted parole to less than five percent of it’s inmates over the last two decades. You just indulged him in his fantasy and tried to forget about all extenuating factors.

And that’s what you did now.

“Is this what you’d do? If we were on date night? Take me to some nasty wilderness bar and feel me up in the booths?” you poked a finger below his ribs where you knew he was ticklish, and Rick squirmed.

“And what if I did? I think that sounds like a pretty good evenin’,” he said, tone slowly warming back to normal, forgetting his gripe.

“Ok, but I think I would want you to take me to a nice restaurant every once and a while. Or, oh! Mini golf! The kind with all the fancy water features.”

Rick chuckled and nudged your ear with his nose, “we could do that. Whatever you want, baby, we’ll do.”

You grinned up at him, showing your teeth off to your molars. You loved the idea of your large boyfriend holding a small candy colored putter, hunched over in concentration to make his ball through some ridiculous obstacle.

“I think I’d still take you to dive bars, though. Always have loved ‘em. Hell, it could even be our thing after this,” he propositioned.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, “I like the idea of having a thing with you.”

“You already do, darlin’.”

You hummed and brought your hand to his cheek, “Good.”

Pulling him down to meet your lips, Rick had already begun to close his eyes when you were interrupted.

“Hate to break up the love fest, but Krane is a block away,” came Robert’s voice through the coms.

Rick stopped short of your mouth and cursed under his breath.

“Fuckin’ ruining everything,” he muttered, not caring if DuBois heard him.

“Hey,” you gripped his jaw with purpose, “the faster this is over, the faster we can head back to the motel and continue our night.”

Rick heaved out a breath and leaned back into the booth, “I know, you’re right.”

“When am I not?” you said with a wink.

Rick rolled his eyes.

“Just have a drink with Robert, watch my six, and we’ll be back by eleven.”

Rick nodded tightly, the vein in his forehead beginning to pulse with tension.

“(Y/L/N), gotta do this now, he’s about to enter,” DuBois reminded, as he used his placement at the bar to peer out the window.

“On it,” you said, pressing your ear to the com and gathering your winter coat that lay across the wood back of the booth.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you slipped your arms through the sleeves and gave Rick’s cheek a quick kiss before you were headed for the back door.

Rick knew the plan inside and out, something he was sure to do whenever you played a major part in whatever operation he was heading. But he never got used to letting you go into a fight alone. Call him pig-headed or old fashioned, but all he wanted to do was keep you safe, and letting you launch yourself head first into trouble never failed to leave him pissed off and restless.

Rick grabbed his own coat in a strangled grip and he walked over to where Robert sat.

“Trouble in paradise?” the other man mused, a smirk on his face.

“Fuck off, will ya?” Rick replied, motioning the bartender over for a drink.

Dr. Krane entered moments later. He took a seat close to the window at a high-top table, and pulled out a worn paperback from his coat pocket. It would be mere minutes before you reentered as your alias and bypassed Rick in favor of the mark, doing everything in your power to woo him and get the drive. Rick tried not to look at the door and remain nonchalant like every other bar patron. Although, when you did enter, he visibly stiffened.

Rick had seen you in action a handful of other times, but he had always had a task of his own to distract him. He had never fully seen you pull apart someone with your manipulations and take whatever you wanted. But, as you took a seat a few tables away from Krane, Rick was shocked at how you had transformed from the woman he had just had in his arms.

You had pulled your hair back to reveal your intensely beautiful face. He could tell you had rubbed your skin with snow to run your makeup and make your cheeks glossy and wet. Your eyes were bloodshot, your shoulders high and your hands buried in your coat pockets. You looked small, absent and overly timid.

He watched from the corner of his eye as you loomed your head low and gave a whispered sigh. You shuffled yourself close to the wall and didn't look up from the tabletop, where you pushed around salt particles and struggled to hold back tears.

You weren’t vying for Krane’s attention by making a scene, by sauntering over to buy him a drink or flirt with him, you were being strategic and cunning. You knew your mark and what made him tick and you were executing your character perfectly. After less than ten minutes of Krane’s repeated glances your way, he finally called out and asked if you were alright. Rick turned his back to the exchange and hoped Robert would take the lead to watch for anything fishy.

“Folie à deux,” Robert spoke, calling Rick’s attention.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s French,” he continued, “Roughly, it means the presence of the same delusional idea in two people close to the other.”

Rick didn’t need to pry to know what he meant.

The ride to the motel was full of tense silence.

You had been right, it had taken you less than two hours to exploit Krane and get the drive. After you had pocketed it seamlessly, you excused yourself to the bathroom and slipped out the window. You felt a warm nostalgia as you hiked yourself onto the toilet and pushed the glass up. You hadn’t shimmied out of a window after stealing from some short-sighted man in years.

When you dropped into the icy ally below, your feet skated beneath you. You put your arms out for balance but you were studied at the waist by familiar hands. You looked up to see Rick, with a hood covering his brunette hair and a stern look on his face.

“Thank you, colonel,” you smiled, but he didn’t return your cheeky pleasantry.

Once he was sure you weren’t going to slip, Rick let you go and began to walk toward the getaway car, where you assumed Robert already was. All residual excitement and adrenaline from your heist was lost as you watched his figure sulk into the night, the street lights and falling snow flickering his vision.

You knew that Rick wasn’t a big fan of letting you work alone, but he had never acted so cold to you after you had completed your mission before. Quite the opposite, he would scoop you into his arms, look you over ad nauseam with whispered coos and concerned questions until you silenced him with a kiss of survival, reminding him that everything was ok now.

When you finally caught up to him, he and Robert were already in the beat down Mazda, the ancient heater rattling and spitting out pitiful excuses for warmth.

“Got it?” DuBois said around the filter of his cigarette, looking at you in the rear view mirror as you climbed in the backseat.

“‘Course,” you replied.

You fished the drive from the inside pocket of your down jacket and placed it in his outstretched palm.

Robert took the drive and secured it in the locked military briefcase that had been by Rick’s feet in the front.

“Nice work. Now let’s get the hell outta this podunk nightmare.”

Rick had refused to acknowledge you the entire drive, and he continued to ignore your existence when you arrived at the motel. He didn’t open your door when the car had parked. He didn’t lace his fingers with your own when you walked to the property office. He carried your small duffle bag, but he seemed to only do it out of spite. You half expected him to ask for a third room with how he was snubbing you. Thankfully, he didn’t.

With two rooms now in your purchase, you walked to your respective rooms. When you arrived at rooms four and five, Rick handed Robert a key, who gave him a mock salute.

“Don’t have too much fun now, kids.”

Rick was already opening the door and walking inside, so when you told Robert to fuck off, he likely didn’t hear you.

When you entered the room, you toed off your snow-caked boots and discarded your damp jacket. After you locked, you made your way inside to where Rick was sat on the bed.

You had never felt the type of anxiety that spurred in your veins like you felt it now. The sole perk of the unconventional relationship you had with Rick was that you didn’t have to fight like normal couples did. Your fights came out of unadulterated danger and the fear that came along with that. They were always resolved with loving words and him between your legs, showing you in every way he could that he was glad you were safe. But this? This simmering anger? You just weren't used to it.

“You all good?” you asked with hesitation as you pulled at your sleeves with worry. You tried not to think about how just hours earlier Rick had been feeling you up through the fabric.

He drew in a sharp breath through his nose and looked at you, “no, no I’m actually not.”

“Oh, okay…” you trailed off uncomfortably and took a step forward, “do you wanna talk about it?”

“Am I fucking joke to you? Are we a joke to you?” he bypassed any preamble with an accusatory bite.

“What?”

“I just had to sit for two hours watchin’ you with him, y’know. I watched you, and I started to feel like it all felt pretty familiar,” he stood suddenly, his face darkening with anger.

Your heart raced in your chest and your shoulders pulsed with spidering tension.

“Are you kidding me? Baby, that was all an act. You know that,” you reached for his arm to diffuse him, but he retracted it quickly.

“Everyone thinks I’m this big idiot, y’know that? Everyone at the interior and at ARGUS. Fuckin’ Flag, here he goes again, fallin’ for another woman with all this baggage,” Rick said, “but I always brush ‘em off. Because who cares! I don’t! I care about you, and what we have, but-” his jaw clenched and his lips curled in, “that. That show back there? It’s makin’ me feel crazy.”

“Rick, what are you saying?” your fingers flexed into the hems of your sleeves, itching to touch him and make this all better.

“What I’m sayin’ is… I’m sayin’ I’m freaking out,” he shook his head, “was anything of this real?”

He motioned hastily between you both.

“Or was I just another one of them?” he gestured behind him, in some vague way to point back to the bar.

Your throat felt like it was coated with thorns as your breathing became ragged with fear. Your stomach bubbled with nausea. Your skin felt hot and your eyes burned with shame.

The only man you had ever loved, the only person who had ever shown you any compassion or care in your entire life, stood across from you close to despondent as he questioned everything that you had built together.

And you fucking deserved it.

Trauma or not, you had lived your life as a bad person. You stole and you cheated and you lied to anyone and everyone to get what you wanted. You had only cared about your needs dismissed any fallout in favor of them. You’d hurt people, ruined lives and families, and for what? Money? Jewels? Notoriety? None of that meant anything now as Rick watched you with a bleeding heart.

This was your true moment of punishment for all the chaos you had caused.

“Please,” you choked through rising tears, “please Rick, please know that that’s not true. Please, please know that every second of us has been real.”

Rick sniffed and placed his hands on his hips, averting his eyes from your own.

“You know everything about me,” you stepped closer, “you know what I thought in the beginning and what I told Harley. You know that I started to fall for you that day in Midway and that whatever ruse I had created went straight out the window. You know that one of my biggest heartbreaks was watching you kiss June. Watching you kiss her and it not being… just please, Rick.”

You had begun to sob, his pain and doubt too much to bear.

“I have faked a lot of things in my life, but I could never fake what we have. I could never fake how I feel about you. Everything that I do and say out there, it’s not me. You know me. You are the only person who ever really has,” you voice squeaks.

Without giving it much thought or weighing the consequences, you closed the distance between you two and grasped his hand to placed it on your chest.

“Do you feel that?” you settled his palm over your heart, “it’s freaking out, isn’t it? And it does that any time I’m near you. Any time you look at me, any time you brush your hand across my back, any time you kiss me or tell me how important I am to you.”

Twin tears fell down his cheeks as Rick closed his eyes.

“My heart has never beat so fast for anything or anyone else in my life. Sometimes I swear it beats so hard just so it can be closer to you,” you huffed a pitiful laugh and to your surprise, he returned it.

You sniffled and felt snot drip down the back of your throat as Rick came to grasp your wrist. For a moment, you thought he was going to remove your hand from his and your heart shutters. He must have felt it because his brows pulled together and his grip held strong.

“Sometimes I think mine does, too.”

He opens his eyes and they are thoughtful, but they are still haunted with sadness.

“You’re right. I do know you… sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself, which I know doesn’t make any damn sense,” he chuckled softly, “but I don’t care. Because if I lost all of me tomorrow, I would just be happy to remember you.”

You choke out your own laugh, laced with tears and coated in mucus as he continued.

“And I think that just gets to me… the way I feel about you gets to me sometimes. ‘Cause this ain’t my first rodeo, I’ve been hurt and tricked and scoured and I -” he paused, “and sometimes I think it’s impossible to have fallen for two women who are a part of this strange world I’ve entered, and I start to doubt.

S’not right, I know, but sometimes it still happens. Tonight, with fuckin’ DuBois and Krane, ‘guess it all just crept in. All those thoughts that I do my best to keep away.”

“It’s ok,” you reassured, “I get it, this whole thing seems so crazy from the outside and it-”

Rick stopped you.

“S’not ok, baby. It’s not. I shouldn’t doubt you, and I sure as hell shouldn’t’a just accused you like that. Especially on the one night that we get to pretend we’re normal.”

“But I get it, ok? Just know that. Know that I’ll understand if you have doubts or worries, and I’ll never have any problem proving them wrong with everything I have. Because I am madly in love with you Rick Flag. And I would do anything to soothe your heart.”

Rick’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened. You had never said it before. There was a healthy amount of fear in exchanging those words, something neither of you had had the guts to broach and tackle until now. For you, a love virgin, it was the fear of not knowing if what you felt was love. For Rick, it was the basis of the fight you had just had, Robert’s words in the bar articulating his fears perfectly.

But under yellow lights in Northern Montana, his hand to your heart and tears in his eyes, he knew that all his worries had been for nothing. This was real. You were real and so was this moment, and hell if he didn’t love you back.

“Fuck,” he let out and his shoulders fell, “I love you, too. Man oh man, do I love you.”

He wasted no time crashing his lips to your own. Sweaters and thermal wear stripped from your bodies and tossed around the room as he finally had the chance to take you in a proper bed and for a significant amount of time.

His skin was warm under your cold fingertips and his hips ground into yours at an eye crossing pace. His hands were everywhere, groping and stroking and loving every part of you he could reach. His lips sprung marks across your neck and played delicious tunes to your mouth as he thrust inside you. His words an endless loop of I love you’s, moans, grunts and everything that you needed to hear.

“I love you.”

“I know you. I know you. I know everything about you.”

When Rick had had his fill of your body and you were faint from orgasms, you both ceased to simply revel in the lazy time that stretched in front of you. There was no lack of affection or a drought in traded love declarations. You catalogued his freckles and he drummed his hands in a coy rhythm against your ass that had you peeling with giggles. You tried to braid his growing hair and he counted off all the shades he swore he saw in your eyes.

As the cards of the prehistoric alarm clock flipped it’s numbers to early dawn, Rick brushed your hair from your eyes. The impending doom of your time together running out had begun to break through and you could tell it was making him antsy.

“What if we ran away from here? Jus’ got in the car and drove?” he whispered with reverence into the air.

You simply raised a skeptical eyebrow and he shook his head.

“If we left now, I’m sure we could get in contact with someone who could figure out how to get that shit outta your neck. Hell, maybe with a gun to his head Dr. Krane would even figure it out,” he laughed but there was little humor to it, only frantic desperation.

“Baby, let’s not even talk like this, ok? It’s too depressing,” you offered him a small smile and moved to kiss his palm.

“I know it sounds crazy, but just… don’t you deserve happiness? Don’t I? Don’t we? We have this chance now, we could run off like thieves in the night and just, fuck, just be together,” his other hand came to grasp the other cheek he didn’t occupy, “we could be so happy.”

For the second time tonight, your throat grew thick with tears and a dull hopelessness ached in your chest.

“I know. I do, and we could,” you said, “but there is no way we could go where Waller couldn’t find. She’d tear the world apart to find us. Toss us in solitary and throw away the key. We’d never see each other again, and I can’t risk that.

“This is one problem that can’t be solved with loopholes or cutting corners. I have to fight her fights and serve out my sentence for what I’ve done. And that’s just that.”

You could tell your objection frustrated him, but most of all you could tell he was just sad. Sad, that this was the way it had to be. Chance nights in shitty motels and stolen moments that would never be long enough.

“S’not fuckin’ fair.”

Your lip quivered and you sighed, “you’re right. It’s not… sometimes I think maybe this is my true penance for all the wrong I've done. Getting to have you in my arms, but never truly being able to hold you.”

“Then what about me? Shouldn’t all the good shit I’ve done weigh this in our favor?”

“Maybe you were a bad man in a past life and have yet to even the scale,” you mildly joked, and to your effort, you earned a small smile from Rick, which is all you really wanted.

You both ran out the clock in each other's arms, making love and smiling and laughing and telling little stories of whatever you could think of. Around four, Rick dozed off with you tightly wrapped in his arms. You did your best to commit his sleeping form to memory, not knowing if you’d ever get the pleasure to witness a truly relaxed Rick Flag ever again. When you were sure you’d never forget the pout of his lips or how his eyelids twitched with dreams, you allowed yourself to get some shut eye of your own before you were set to head back to prison. You pressed yourself deep into his chest and tucked your head under his chin.

As you snuggled against his bare skin and listened to his even breathing, you wished you could stay forever in his arms, wrapped only in him (his body, his warmth, his scent) and the thick blankets of the motel. You wished you could sleep forever to sustain this moment, so you would only know the solace of slumber, and the safety and love he provided.

and fin! i really hope you enjoyed, if you did, i would love to hear it (: i am still on the fence on how this is structured, but i just really wanted to add into the great rick x reader fics out there (there will never be enough lol)

if you did like this, i sort of already have a part two lined up, and about 3k+ words from various iterations of this story i could post as blurbs, too (: so let me know if you want either of those things

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

If I Go, I'm Goin' Crazy - Part 1 (Rick Flag x OC)

Summary: There was a reason Amanda Waller always seemed to be three steps ahead of everybody. Only no one would have guessed that she had an actual psychic at her side at all times. But when this psychic sees the death of one Colonel Rick Flag, who is so kind to her, she can't help but warn him of his impending doom on missions - again, and again, and again.

Pairing: Rick Flag x OC (Delphia Holman)

Word Count: 5986

Warnings: a pinch of language, death/coma mention, nakedness mention, FLUUUUFFF, rick flag being a major softy, suggestive language

Timeline: September 2016

if i go masterlist

Would you guys want a second part to this that covers the before and after of the 2021 movie (cause I do have some fix it ideas if you know what I mean)?? Let me know!

Amanda Waller was a terrifying and imposing figure in the US government, especially in ARGUS. And one of the main reasons that she was so formidable was her seemingly magical ability to be nearly three steps ahead of everyone else. She would have the solution to every problem. She would know how people would respond before they even opened their mouths. She would know exactly what steps to take, in the middle of a stressful mission, in order for things to succeed. For a while, when ARGUS first began, it was rumored that Waller was a metahuman herself. But those were shut down quickly. Her nearly abhorrent distaste for them evidence enough that she herself was not one. Plus, no one was willing to ask out of fear for their lives.

But the rumors weren’t that far off from the truth.

Amanda Waller had had the same assistant ever since she started at ARGUS. Pulling the quiet but stern girl up through the ranks with her as she climbed to the top of the food chain. Her assistant — now this girl was a metahuman if there ever was one. She was the reason for Waller’s incredible sense of foresight.

“Her name is Delphia Holman, codename Oracle,” Waller told her higher-ups at Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary just before she took the job as commanding officer of Task Force X, “Her mother, if you recall, was Frida Holman also known as Oracle. A psychic caught placing illegal bets on sports games and buying lottery tickets that she knew would win her millions — she was incarcerated here at Belle Reve. While imprisoned she gave birth to Delphia who was adopted by another family and lived a normal life. But I kept a close eye on her — and when she started to develop her psychic abilities I hired her on as my assistant. Trained her — taught her everything that she knows.”

“Didn’t Frida Holman claim to be a descendant of some alien race that came to earth during the age of Vikings?” one of the higher-ups snorted through a laugh.

But Amanda Waller was not laughing. “Yes. And she was correct.”

She clicked the next slide and the higher-ups gave one another sideways looks. Men who could conjure fire in their palms and half crocodile men they could believe — but a psychic? Someone who could see into the future with accuracy down to the very minute? That was just impossible.

“Evidence has been discovered that an alien ship did in fact land on Earth during the Viking age in Norway. These aliens were clearly of a higher intelligence, possessing the natural ability to see into the future. A few of these aliens stayed behind and procreated with humans — creating the legendary Oracles that predetermined the outcomes of the greatest battles throughout history. Wars were waged over possession of these descendants until they were whittled down to one remaining bloodline. The Holman bloodline. Delphia is the last of her kind — and we have her in the palm of our hands.”

“Why not use this girl to the entire nation's advantage then and not just yours? She could be sitting in the White House right now telling every major authority what every other nation is about to do.”

The other higher-ups shook their heads in agreement with the one.

“Because something like this needs to be contained.” Waller knew that these men wouldn’t understand, but as their subordinate she had to tell them about the staff she wanted to bring on. And that included her psychic. “If she was working in the White House the entire world would know what she was in an instant. Working with me — with Task Force X — she can still be used for the nation's purposes without drawing the attention of the entire world to our door.”

The higher-ups stared around at each other, then the director sighed. “Fine, Ms. Waller. You may use this metahuman with your Task Force X project. But if you fail — then she’s ours.”

“Deal.”

Task Force X, affectionately known as the Suicide Squad, did not, in fact, fail. Like all of the higher-ups at Belle Reve thought it would. Instead, the program was a major success. Well, for the members of the team that didn’t die it was a success at least. Those who came out of missions with their hearts still beating got ten years taken off their sentences and the world became a little bit safer than it was before. It was a win-win for everyone really.

Well, almost everyone.

Delphia Holman didn’t feel like she was winning anything. In fact, she felt like a little piece of herself was being chipped away with each mission Task Force X went on.

Waller would give her the files. The criminals going on the mission, the plans, the schematics — every piece of data that would pertain to the mission would be dumped into Delphia’s hands. She would then pick over each bit of information carefully, and before she knew it, she would be slipping out of focus and into the future. Seeing every minute of the mission play out in real-time. And if the mission failed, she would tell Waller what happened and the plan would be corrected. Delphia would keep doing this until the mission finally succeeded, and after that, she was supposed to keep her mouth shut about anything that was about to happen. Even if that meant looking straight into the face of someone she knew was about to die some gruesome, horrible death and not say a word to them about it.

However, it was a system that worked and it was a system that got her paid a substantial amount of money. So she only complained in her journal and cried in the bathroom when it all became a bit too much. But she would never say a word to Waller — she definitely couldn’t afford to lose this job. It was the only one she had ever had really. As soon as she was out of high school Waller had called her and offered her a job. At the time she thought it would be just an in to something more. But the something more never came and Waller’s true intentions were revealed.

Five years after saving the world the first time, teams were being sent out on missions constantly. Like the one today.

Delphia was practically running down a hallway in the bowels of Belle Reve, arms loaded down with files about the mission, in an attempt to find an empty room to focus in. The team departed for the mission in four hours and the mission still wasn’t ending in success. It seemed that no matter how many changes were made, the mission was simply doomed to fail. Waller was absolutely breathing hellfire down Delphia’s neck to find a solution and it was making her nervous — which really wasn’t helpful for the whole looking into the future thing.

Delphia groaned as she looked into the window of yet another occupied conference room. Did every department have a meeting today or something? Didn’t they know that what she needed to do was far more important than whatever it was they were discussing?

When she turned from the window, however, she ran into a very solid form. The hefty stack of files fell from her hands in a flurry of paper and pictures, some of the lucky sheaves even sliding halfway back down the hallway.

“Shit, Holman — sorry,” a distinct southern accent drawled.

Her face instantly heated as she looked up into that familiar face. He flashed a smile at her before kneeling down and beginning to pick up her dropped papers. Shoving them into random manila folders messily. Delphia took a calming breath before bending down and beginning to gather them herself. Oh, universe, did it have to be him?

“It’s not a problem, Colonel Flag. You have a mission to prepare for — I can get this,” she muttered, avoiding looking into his face and instead focusing on retrieving the papers that had spilled behind her.

As they picked up the papers, their hands nearly touched. Skin grazing against skin as they went for the same page. Delphia’s insides twisted as she tried to control her breathing.

“Nah, there’s plenty of time. At least let me — “ He got up from the floor with a groan and began to jog after the ones that had sailed across the tile floors down the hall. “Get these ones for you.”

Delphia stood with the rest of the regathered files and tucked a strand of her bright red hair behind her ear nervously. She knew exactly why being around Colonel Rick Flag made her like this. All blushy and nervous and butterfly-y. And she kind of hated herself for it. But she really just couldn’t help it. He smiled at her and greeted her in the hallways when everyone else around the Penitentiary and ARGUS couldn’t care to give her the light of day. He asked after her family when they were going the same direction in the hallways. Even when he had meetings with Waller he would bring a coffee to her desk and chat for a few minutes.

Then there were the after-mission celebrations. Where a few bottles of booze would be passed around the room when Waller would finally leave and everyone would let loose — rejoice in another job well done. And somehow, during every single one of these events, Flag and Delphia would gravitate towards each other. Find solace in one another, because it wasn’t like either of them were friends with anyone else around Belle Reve. Well, Flag had the members of Task Force X. But they were never brought out of their cells to join in the celebrations with the rest of them. The pair of them would talk and drink and maybe once and while drink too much — stowing themselves away in some corner to not so quietly make fun of everyone else there. Then they’d stumble out to the parking lot side by side. Touches would linger just a bit too long. Looks would be held for longer than necessary. And before one of them would decide to break away to the cabs they had called, they would stand too close together. Pondering. Wondering. Wishing.

But nothing ever came of it.

And not to mention he was handsome…So very very handsome. With the muscles, and the facial hair, and the accent, and being so thick he looked like a damn pillow she just wanted to sleep on. Or kiss. Or whatever.

“Holman…You still with me?”

Flag’s voice snapped her out of what was most definitely not staring at him. Right. He was handing over the rest of her files.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just — er — lots on my mind I guess.” Delphia took the papers from him with a fresh blush brandished on her cheeks like a badge of shame. “Thank you.”

“Waller really dogging you about this mission?” Flag asked, hands on his hips as he looked pointedly down at the once again immense stack of files.

“I suppose you could say that, yeah.” Delphia looked up the hallway, one of the conferences was adjourning and she needed to snag that room before someone else did.

“Tell her there’s no need to stress. This kind of mission is almost routine at this point.”

She scoffed. “You try telling her that.”

“Honestly — ” Flag smiled when she caught his eye again. “I’d rather face the devil himself.”

“Or herself.”

Flag chuckled and Delphia couldn’t look away from him. Her stupid schoolgirl crush wasn’t the only reason she was avoiding looking at him. And now that she was gazing into those brown eyes as welcoming as her childhood home she couldn’t stop envisioning it. Couldn’t stop seeing the future of this man standing before her. Couldn’t stop seeing him dead. A bullet between his glassy eyes, the blood drained from his face. That was his future today. At the end of this mission he was about to depart for he would be dead. And she couldn’t tell him.

She watched as his face crumpled in concern. He could probably see the tears building in her eyes. The way she couldn’t control the nearly childlike downturn of her mouth.

Even after all these years, she still cried in the face of deaths she could do nothing to prevent.

“Delphia ‘re you — “

He reached out to touch her shoulder, but to her great surprise she got to him first. Her hand curled around his wrist earnestly — fervently. Clutching him so lightly yet she could feel his muscles rippling beneath the surface and the faint ridges of scars on his skin. He was warm beneath her fingers. A reminder that he wasn’t actually dead yet, no matter how much that bloody bullet hole between his worried eyes told her otherwise. He didn’t deserve this. He was so good, so kind, so brave, so convicted, so earnest. She couldn’t let this happen to him — she just couldn’t.

“Colonel Flag — “ She cleared her throat of phlegm and tried again. “Colonel Flag, whatever you do, get behind the cover to your right when the shooting starts. Please.”

“Wait, what — ?”

“I’m sorry, I have to go. Waller needs this report in a few minutes.”

With that, she let his wrist slip from her hand and she scurried off to the now-empty conference room. Once inside she shut and locked the door behind her and pressed her head against the cool metal. Did she seriously just do that? If Waller found out — if Flag told her — she would be dead. But she couldn’t tarry on her mistake for long. So with one last hope that Waller wouldn’t find out, she laid the files out on the conference table and drifted off into visions of the future.

When the team left for the mission four hours later, Delphia’s visions still ended in complete and utter failure. And this did not make Waller happy. Not in the slightest. The rest of the team could tell that something was off, the energy in the control room was even more tense than usual. And Waller was even more…Well, herself than usual.

The mission itself was simple. It was something that several different variations of Task Force X had completed successfully before. The assassination of some metahuman gangster or another. One hellbent on world domination or at the very least domination of an entire city somewhere. This type of thing never tended to sit well with the American government — so Task Force X would be sent in to get rid of the problem and keep the metahumans under control. Only this time, this metahuman gangster, was just a bit tougher than the rest of them were.

“Task Force X you are approaching Crazy Quilt’s hideout,” Waller announced over comms to the team of seven she had sent out into the field, “Take caution, there are hostiles guarding the entrance — and nearly every major hallway leading up to Quilt’s location.”

“Copy that,” Rick Flag’s voice responded.

Delphia, sat in the corner of the command center in case Waller needed anything, tensed at the sound of his name. It was going to happen soon. That bullet was going to pass through his brain and he was going to die. She would no longer get to hear that southern drawl that lifted her spirits. She was no longer going to be waved to or chatted with in the hallways. She would no longer see his smile, hear his laugh, or ever get the chance to tell him that she felt something for him. Why hadn’t she ever told him? Why had she waited five years for a little crush to turn into an overwhelming weight? Why had they never had their sloppy, drunken kiss like all those times said they would?

The first shots of Crazy Quilt’s guard echoed over the comms.

Oh, God please no.

This was it. Flag wasn’t going to see the cover in time and one of the armed guards was going to get lucky enough to hit him between the eyes. And all Delphia could do was watch.

She braced for the impact, eyes glued to the monitors that displayed a hacked security feed. Her insides tensed, her fists balled in her lap — fingernails digging into her palms.

But then she saw it.

Flag moved behind the cover to his right and he lived. He made it through the fire fight. Despite all of Delphia’s visions of his death.

Delphia released the breath she had been holding just a bit too loudly. The rest of the team looked back at her with quirked brows — especially Amanda Waller, who had been told quite plainly a few hours ago that Rick Flag was going to die during this mission. Delphia looked away from them all and down to the pleat in her dress pants. But she couldn’t help the smile that overcame her face.

He was alive.

When Task Force X got back from their mission, Crazy Quilt in a body bag, Delphia was sitting at her desk outside Waller’s office going through the debriefing paperwork. Waller would need to sign all of these when she was done with them. Then she would have to go into the prison system and change the sentences of each of the team members that came back alive. The mission ended up being a success after all.

Red pen in hand, just in case she found any mistakes, Delphia skimmed through another paper in the report. Blue eyes darting from left to right at top speeds so she could hurry up and go home. It had been an exceptionally long and stressful day — and it was nearing on three in the morning. She could feel just how heavy her eyes were as she flipped the paper over and moved on to the next one. She grabbed her coffee cup and went to take a sip only to find it was empty. Ugh. She really did not want to get up and go get more from the breakroom.

But the sudden and rather startling banging open of the door leading into Waller’s waiting room woke her up enough. Delphia’s head snapped up from the page she was reading to see Rick Flag standing there. She sucked in a deep breath at the sight of him.

He clearly hadn’t taken the time to shower before coming up here. He was still sweaty, grimey, and splattered with enemy blood. The only thing he’d cared to do was take off the top half of his tactical gear. Leaving him in the pants and boots with just a simple black t-shirt straining over his torso. Delphia gulped as she took in the tattoos poking out from the sleeves of his shirt.

He looked grumpy and maybe even confused as he looked across the room at her.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked, voice deeper and huskier post mission.

“Er — yeah.” Delphia put down the red pen and smoothed out her hair. “What about?”

She knew what about but was really hoping that he would’ve forgotten or would’ve thought it was a coincidence. But judging from the look on his face he definitely remembered and definitely did not think it was a coincidence that she knew where cover would be during the shootout with Crazy Quilt’s men.

“Not here,” he grumbled.

Delphia rose from behind her desk and followed him out the door, hoping that Waller wouldn’t need anything while she was gone. Flag closed it shut behind them both then silently stalked down the hallway — leaving her standing there for a moment before she followed. He led them to a smaller office around the corner. Opening the door like he owned the place, Flag stepped inside the dark room and Delphia felt like she was going to explode. They’d never been alone together like this before.

Taking a deep breath, Delphia stepped inside and shut the door behind herself. Flag turned on the lamp on one of the desks crammed inside the small space. It took her a moment to realize that it was actually his office they had stepped into. Sparsely decorated and immaculately clean — just like a military man who barely spent any time there.

“How did you know?” he asked after a moment of silence, arms crossed and eyes focused on her feet.

She decided to play dumb, just like Waller told her to do when someone got suspicious. “How did I know what?”

“You know what — the cover at Crazy Quilt’s. How did you know it would be there and that I would need to get behind it?” Flag finally looked up from the floor, searching her face for anything.

For being a psychic, Delphia Holman was an absolute shit liar. Which is why when these types of situations came up, Waller usually made them go away quietly. But this was Colonel Rick Flag. Integral to the workings of Task Force X and a great soldier. He took orders, was a great leader, and was still so kind in the face of all the things he saw. Which was why Delphia couldn’t let Waller make this go away for her. Not this time.

“I — I’m not allowed to tell you,” she finally stuttered out, hands gripping her blazer so tight she was probably permanently wrinkling the fabric, “It — It’s in my contract.”

“Who does Waller have against you?”

Delphia crossed her arms and looked away from Flag. “My parents…She’s threatened them before. When I’ve messed up.”

Flag sighed in an understanding way and moved closer to her. Only a few steps after he noticed her flinch away from him.

“Look — I get it. Waller’s used the people I love against me too.” He took another step closer and this time she left him, her blue gaze shifting back to his face. “But I promise you she won’t find out you told me the truth.”

She glanced around the small office for evidence that someone could be listening in.

Flag seemed to notice. “No cameras, no microphones in here. Just us. I just — your information saved my life. And I wanna know how.”

Delphia stared at him, long and hard for a minute. She knew that Rick Flag was all hard stubbornness that concealed a kind earnestness that only a few got to see. Those who had worked with him for years. And it wasn’t until this moment that she finally saw that. And it made her want to kiss him all the more.

“I’m psychic,” she finally blurted.

Which took Flag aback. Physically. His head reared back and he blinked his eyes rapidly as if being stung by a sudden breeze. Delphia never realized how stupid that sounded until just then either.

“You — you’re psychic?” he asked.

“Well — well I can see into the future. I guess the technical term is that I have foresight. I just need to see a picture or anyone really and then I just…unfocus. Then I’m looking into their future. Do you remember the prisoner Frida Holman?”

Flag shook his head.

“I guess she died before you got here. She was my mother. I was born right here in Belle Reve. Then adopted.”

Delphia watched as Flag’s expression softened even more. It made her heart hurt to see his sympathy, his care. Something that he didn’t let just anybody see. She was beginning to question what made her so special that he would let her in like this — let her see him melt before her very eyes.

“And your mom?”

“She, uh — she died here too. Waller let me read the file when I came to work for her. She slipped into the future and couldn’t bring herself back out. When you’re in that state you can’t move, can’t eat, drink, or sleep. It was like she slipped into a coma and just withered away.”

Flag was so close to her now. While she was talking, she hadn’t realized that she’d backed up against the closed door. That Flag was standing so close to her she could feel the heat coming off of him. Could smell the sweat and dirt still clinging to his skin. Could feel his breath fanning down across her face. At the realization, her heart instantly jumped into her throat, making it impossible to say anymore. And it wasn’t because she was traumatized or saddened by the death of a mother she never got to meet. No. It was because Rick Flag’s presence was overpowering and wonderful and safe and everything she had ever wanted.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Delphia swallowed the lump in her throat, or at least made an attempt, and croaked around it, “It’s okay.”

“Can you — I mean — are you willing — can I see?”

He made it sound like he was asking for some sacred thing from her. It nearly made her smile how tentatively he spoke the words. So unlike his usual commanding self.

“I can’t show you the future, if that’s what you mean,” she said.

“Oh.”

“But I can — if you don’t mind — I can look into your future. Just by like an hour,” she suggested.

Rick nodded his head and Delphia took a deep breath. Right. She shook out her hands in preparation. She hadn’t done this to an actual person in so long. Stealing the last of her confidence, Delphia looked deep into his heavenly brown eyes, and thought hard about who Flag was.

Former US special forces. Recruited by Waller to lead Task Force X some years ago. Surprisingly takes his coffee with a lot of cream. Once had a cat named Toaster. Doesn’t like to watch TV, prefers movies and books. Doesn’t enjoy killing. Fiercly protective.

Delphia felt her eyes and mind unfocus. Rick’s face became blurred and suddenly he was gone. Replaced with a milky white before fading into a different scene entirely. She was inside his apartment a thirty minute’s drive from Belle Reve. It was nice. Brick walls and wood floors. Though just like his office it was hardly decorated. It almost seemed like a model home it was so unpersonalized. Delphia moved from the living room, not seeing Rick anywhere.

In the back of her mind, she could hear Rick standing before her in his office. He was trying to call her name, snapping his fingers. She wasn’t done yet though. He was probably worried by the whiteness that had taken over her eyes.

She could hear something down the hallway of his apartment. Moving to investigate, she should have realized what it was sooner. His shower was on, and Delphia walked in on him standing in his steaming bathroom absolutely naked. She gasped in shock and covered her eyes. This was too intimate of a moment. It made her blood feel like it was boiling.

“Holman — Delphia! You with me?” Rick’s present voice snapped back into sudden clarity as her vision focused back on the dimly lit office and his sweaty face so close to her’s.

“Yeah — yeah. I’m here.” She tried to fight the major blush that was beginning to take over her entire body, her eyes instead focusing on the wrinkles of his t-shirt rather than his face.

All she could see was his naked form in the shower. Back muscles rippling under the stream of hot water. Strong, thick thighs keeping him up right. Those broad shoulders looking so unburdened in those most intimate moments. She had caught the side of his face. He had his eyes closed. The steaming water poured down over the back of his head and neck. He nearly looked younger when he was so relaxed.

“Kinda scary…Your eyes going all white like that,” he sighed, relieved, as he gestured towards her face.

“Hence the need for an empty conference room.”

Part of her wished he would back away from her again. Another part of her wished he would never leave.

“So — uh — what’d ya see?”

“In an hour — you…You’re home. Taking a shower,” she replied.

“Oh, come on, anyone could’ve told me that,” he scoffed.

Delphia narrowed her eyes in challenge. “Fine. You have an apartment with brick walls — your couch is blue. And you have a tattoo on your left side.”

She instantly clamped her mouth shut. She hadn’t meant to say that last part.

“You saw my…? Did you see me in the shower?” he asked, brows furrowed but he was smiling slightly.

“Um — possibly.”

“Either you did or you didn’t,” he chuckled. He was now chest to chest with her, hands still held steadfast at his sides. But despite the privacy and the fact that she could definitely hear him he whispered, “So did you?”

“Yes,” she breathed, finally looking up into his face, “But that could change — now that I’ve told you. You could decide to take your shower earlier or later or not go home at all. The future's not set in stone.”

Rick’s brow furrowed. “So what did you see that made you wanna tell me about the cover?”

Here, Delphia hesitated. She could no longer see that bullet between his eyes because that future no longer existed. But it still made her ache to think about it. And she had a feeling that Rick could guess what made her tell him.

She cleared her throat and said, “Your death.”

“Oh.” He put his hand on her shoulder as a comfort, but it only succeeded in making her feel like a volcano about to erupt. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Delphia couldn’t help the tears that built in her eyes. Attempting to blink them away and diffuse the tension she chuckled, “Wouldn’t be my first time seeing something like that.”

Rick’s expression darkened. His grip on her shoulder slipped and for a moment Delphia felt nearly relieved. But then he snatched up her hand — gently, reverently. How could such hands inflict so much pain but hold her like this? His hands eclipsed her’s like the moon does the sun from time to time. Only she never wanted this to end. Never wanted to stop feeling his warm, battle worn skin against her own. Never wanted to stop feeling held by him.

“Waller — she makes you see every mission, doesn’t she?” Rick guessed.

Delphia nodded. “If the mission fails she changes something in the plan. Fine tunes. Then I look again. And again, and again, and again until the mission succeeds. I’ve seen every one of your dead teammates die and I couldn’t tell you and I’m so sorry — “

“Hey, hey, there’s nothing for you to be sorry for.” He squeezed her hand gently. “There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“There’s always something I can do. Always. I just never have the guts to do it.”

“You had the guts today. You saved my life.”

Rick looked uncertain for a moment. His eyes searched her face that looked curiously back at him. What did he see there? What did he see in this girl that he only talked to occasionally in the halls of Belle Reve? Why was he holding her hand and comforting her and making her feel safer than she ever had in her entire life? Being the Oracle, people only ever wanted to use her for their own gain. Wanted her to look into their futures and tell them what she saw. But not Rick. No. That wasn’t what he wanted. If it was he would’ve asked for something more by now.

Instead he tentatively reached up his other hand and cupped her cheek.

Delphia gasped quietly but didn’t stop him. His hands were so rough. Littered with callouses and scars. But they felt delightful and warm against her.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“All I’ve ever — I just — I just want you to be okay, Dee.” He gripped her jaw just a bit tighter, thumb stroking just under her eye. “And I don’t know if it’s the overwhelming sense of gratitude — but I really wanna kiss you.”

Delphia wasn’t sure what propelled her. What electricity coursed through her veins to make her crash into the man before her. But she did. She surged into him like the tide to the shore and embraced him with a searing kiss. She kissed him long and sweet and powerful. One of those kisses that felt like it was being hot ironed into her very soul. His strong arms circled around her waist and lifted her closer. Her fingers tangled into his hair. It was sloppy and sweaty and she got dried blood on her hands but it didn’t even matter because she was kissing Rick Flag.

A sudden knock on the door had Delphia jumping out of her skin. The kiss was broken and she latched onto his shoulders, hiding in his collarbone as he chuckled.

“What?” Rick barked like nothing had just happened.

“Party’s starting in control in a few. Harcourt brought the good stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a few,” Rick replied casually while also giving Delphia’s hips a good squeeze.

Which made it very difficult for her not to squeal. So biting down into his collarbone would have to do.

“And have you seen Holman? She’s not in her office.”

Rick made a point of looking directly into her eyes when he said, “Nope. Not since I got back.”

“Oh, well — sure she’ll turn up eventually. See you down there, Flag!”

“Yep, see ya soon.” Rick quickly bent back down and planted another kiss on her lips, so gentle and sweet, then he whispered, “Wanna get out of here?”

“And go where?” she mused with a smile.

“Back to my place?” he suggested, then he muttered into her ear, giving the lobe a playful nip, “Maybe I won’t have to take that shower alone?”

The thought of it excited her, nearly making her toes curl. But then she remembered those stupid, unfinished reports piled on her desk that Waller would be demanding in less than an hour and she groaned. Throwing her head back gently against the door and dragging her hands down to his broad chest, she sighed.

“I gotta finish the debriefing reports for Waller,” Delphia said, though she became rather distracted when Rick began placing hot, wet kisses against her neck, “And she’s already irritated with me today so I don’t really wanna press my luck.”

“Mm, you’re probably right,” he hummed against her throat, “Meet me in the parking lot in half an hour?”

Delphia Holman went back to her office disheveled and happier than she had ever been. And when she handed the finished reports to Waller, her boss of course narrowed her eyes at her. Since when was her assistant so smiley? But she didn’t question it and instead left for the night, or early morning.

And when Delphia went out into the parking lot, the moon low in the sky and the orange glow of the street lights illuminating the concrete, she saw Rick Flag leaning back against his Jeep. He saw her coming and grinned. And even though it may have been foolish and slightly embarrassing, she broke into a light jog in order to get to him sooner. No pondering, no wondering, or wishing this time. With a laugh, Delphia practically leapt into his awaiting arms and kissed him again.

And again and again and again and again.

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