#rick flag angst

[moonpascaltoo]

RICK FLAG

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all rick flag stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

MASTERLIST • DC MASTERLIST • 05/26/24

@foli-vora ⭒ danger high voltage ⭒ lover ⭒ free ground You’d never known panic like this. You’d never known pain like this. “Rick? Eyes open. Please baby. Come on now.” ” He’s okay. He’s okay. ⭒ hear me

@lacontroller1991 ⭒ bull ride ⭒ husband for hire ⭒ you’re not bad

@loverhymeswith ⭒ nothing will ever be the same pt2 Jotunheim has fallen and Project Starfish is on the loose, but all you really care about is Rick.

@darling-i-read-it ⭒ already married Rick and the reader are secretly married

@drabbles-mc ⭒ all settled

@blackbat05 ⭒ different You were always at odds with a certain Colonel. Will Christmas change things?

@coweye ⭒ love hurts You and your lover Rick Flag do some squad conflict resolution.

@seancekitsch ⭒ hot to go Rick knows he shouldn't shit where he eats. Rick knows Waller would demote him in a second if she knew he was letting you and your de facto guard dog have special privileges on this mission. Rick knows he shouldn't take you up on your offer to play a game.

@reveluving ⭒ request

@ohcaptains ⭒ pity me, i need you you’re not read to say goodbye, not yet.

[riddikulus-writings]

Distracted

Chapter 16

Did he live? Who Knows.

“No. no, no, nononono–” a wordless scream, ripped straight from someone’s throat, “I need to– he–” broke out in between grunts. A crack. A scream – pain. Shouting from more voices, more people, and– “Let me go, DuBois, he needs m– I need him!”

“I’ve always hated hospitals.”

“Me too,” Rick agreed, leaning back in his pale green chair, “Just somethin’ unnerving about ‘em.” he’d broken his arm once, playing basketball in high school. The doctors were kind, understanding, but the too-sterile atmosphere just jerked something in his brain.

He was hardwired for grime. Blood, dirt, getting down and dirty to do the things other people didn’t want to.

“I only started getting scared of them in my twenties,” she admitted quietly, “So, I guess I didn’t always hate them. Too many doctor visits, early twenties. Shoulder problems, hip problems. Sinus problems. Foot problems, fuckin’ knee problems, too. MRIs and arthrograms, x-rays, cat-scans. Parker would try to come with, but sometimes, most of the time – he was a busy boy, y’know. Too good at everything, and everyone wanted his help because of it  – so I’d be all alone, and I just started getting jumpy. Then he… the accident, back at the hospital– but he was DOA…”

Rick placed a comforting hand on her knee, squeezing to let her know she didn’t have to continue, “I know, Nyx.” He stood up, “Water?”

“I’m not incapable,” her eyebrow raised, hand swiping at the tears gathering in her eyes, “I could get it myself, but yes, please, if you’re offering.”

“You’re all bandaged up, hooked up to…” Rick waved a hand at her and all the tubes and wires– they were mainly for watching heart rate and blood pressure, but she was hooked up, nonetheless, “Those. Y’ain’t movin’.”

“I could be like my dad was and start yoinkin’ this shit outta me. He was not happy about being hospitalized that one time– I’m getting released this afternoon,” she gently took the paper cup from his too-large hands, “So, I will be moving. Thank you for visiting, though. It means a lot.”

Dad, hospitalized with stage-four inoperable brain cancer the week after her wedding. Dazed and confused, ripping his IVs out. Had a 24-hour watch put on him after that. Nyx thought it was funny.

Rick had never had the unfortunate scenario of being hospitalized with no one to come visit. His parents, a couple friends he doesn’t talk to anymore. Rick knows he himself doesn’t like to feel alone, “I also came to visit because I’m your ride home, hun.”

She shook her head, “No, I won’t make you do that–”

“Y’ain’t makin’ me do nothin,” he sat back down in the Visitor Chair and leaned on the beside, “Besides, consider us even for you drivin’ me back home when my truck had a flat after work.”

Nyx snorted, remembering the memory, “Knew you for, what? Two days? Surprised my driving didn’t scare you off.”

“It almost did.”

The windows of her truck were down, the cold spring breeze floating through, ruffling the discarded fast food wrappers and baler twine that littered the floor by Rick’s feet. An empty grain bag in the back seat crinkled. Nyx shrugged and swerved violently to the other side of the rough dirt road, hitting several potholes that made the entire Colorado shake, “I’m trying to miss the fuckin’ potholes. Goddamn, we picked a bad time of year to take time off.”

“We quit, Nyx, quit callin’ it time off.”

Her grin got bigger, and she turned her head to face him instead of watching the road, “I love quitting.” some of her hair fell into her eyes, despite most of it being held down by her grimy ball cap.

Rick admits, he’s never been to Wisconsin. It’s gloomy looking, up in the upper-central part of the state – “About right…. Here,” Nyx would say, offering her right hand as a makeshift map of the state as she pointed to the middle-knuckle of her middle finger, “Real hilly. Lots of trees. Not as hilly as Bayfield, or really further up north anywhere, but we’ll go exploring later.”. –. But, he told himself, grabbing the appropriately-named oh shit handle above his head as Nyx nearly put her truck in the ditch. One of the cats in back hissed – it is springtime. Springtime has gloomy colors. A greyscale almost sort of time.

The ditches are lined with melting snowbanks – brown with shuffled-up gravel from when the plow trucks went through – and almost overflowing with running water. The trees all lacked leaves, looking dead as the spindly branches hung over the road, “Gotta trim those,” Nyx mused, mostly to herself, “Now, be warned, there may or may not be some type of party at my house. Got it?”

Pothole. Rick’s teeth rattled. He almost smacked his head into the doorframe. How long is this fuckin’ road, “Party?”

“They missed me,” she shrugged, coming up to a stop sign, “And, remember, everyone wants to meet the Legendary Rick Flag.”

“Quit callin’ me that.”

“Hey, you survived getting stabbed in the chest with dirty porcelain,” she floored it, drifting the truck around the corner with a laugh, rain-heavy gravel spitting in a spray behind them, “I’d call that pretty legendary.”

“And you have… whatever you have. That ain’t legendary?” Nyx had no idea what it was. No idea about it until just a few weeks ago– turns out Waller just wanted her because she was a pretty face and a good soldier.

“Yeah… let’s not mention that to anyone,” she gave him a pointed look, “I don’ want Waller coming sniffing again. Just say I’ve got good de-escalation tactics so my family can scoff and tell you I usually escalate the situations, instead.”

“Y’sure they’re gonna like me?” he wasn’t sure why he was feeling so nervous all of a sudden. Everything he’s ever faced, and having a family meeting was the thing that was unnerving him?

“Here's my driveway,” it was a narrow dirt path cutting through what was probably normally a thick forest, “Brace yourself; my house is awesome. And I already told you, they’ll love you. I bet even my asshole goats will like you. If you offer them food.” she added on, “The dogs will bark, but that’s what dogs do. Our two are the German Shepherd lookin’ ones – but they’re mixes, the one is inbred a bit, I told you that, she’s stupid but she’s cute, I guess. Cousins might have their dogs by, too – and oh lord there’s a lot. I’ve got a ton, and… Yeah, Parker has a big family. I can almost guarantee, there’s a whole schmear of people roaming about my yard. I bet even our old landlord – previous farm owner – came by.”

“You got yourself a whole welcomin’ committee,” Rick mentioned, his voice uneasy.

Nyx turned onto a highway, “I lied about this road being my driveway, I was just pointing out what I would’ve liked my driveway to be. Our farm sits right on this highway, not ideal but beggars can’t be choosers.” 

There were cars lining the highway on either side, parked closer together the further they drove, “Eris…”

“Oh, don’t let the cars bug you,” she slowed down more, reaching a white-sided farmhouse with green tin, a trailer house to match on the opposite side of the drive, a big barn in back and farmland stretching further for what looked like miles. There were people crowding everywhere, dogs barking – the two aforementioned German Shepherd mixes sprinting straight for the pickup – kids of all ages running all over the place, “Ready?”

“No,” Rick admitted, not able to hide his toothy grin anymore. He grabbed the door handle and shrugged back at her, “But I have to be.”

[justreblogginfics]

Okay, so I’m not too familiar with this character, I know I’m gonna have to be now, because this absolutely amazing!

My heart couldn’t take it, it hurt so much! And I liked it! 😭 The angst was just so good and how you wrote how he was feeling, every detail about it was just awing to read. I couldn’t get enough of this, it was so so so good! 😩

in no time at all, this will be the distant past.

rick flag x reader

summary: as rick returns home from corto maltese, he finds solace in you

brief nsfw, 18+

word count: 2.9k

a/n: idk man is it fluff? i guess? angst? hurt/comfort? is it good? is it bad? who knows! whatever this is, i hope you like it! (:

Rick woke you from a fitful sleep when he entered your apartment at sometime past three AM.

You could hear his shuffling, the shifting of the floorboards under his feet and the sound of the kitchen sink croaking to life for him to fill a glass.

With sleep heavy limbs and sheet streaked skin, you pushed yourself onto your elbows and waited for him. He’d been on mission for four days and was no doubt spent and bone weary. You knew whatever greeting he could garner for you would be brief, but you didn’t mind. He’d likely grab your face with calloused hands and place three kisses to your face - forehead, nose, lips - in that order, before hushing you back to sleep and heading to the en suite to wash off all the grime he had accumulated while saving the world.

You’d usually fall back asleep by the time he was clean and shower warm, fully relaxed and content with the fact that you had felt him for yourself, that you had seen him in the flesh.

There were times when he was off on a particularly long or dangerous mission, where your mind would play tricks on you. You’d see what you swore was his board figure out of the corner of your eye, thought you’d hear his voice calling you from the balcony, and wake with sudden adrenaline that you had heard his key in the door. The only time that his apparitions would stop their haunting was when you finally knew he was back with you in the safety of your home. It was when your mind cleared it’s worried fog, allowed your heart to stop it’s painful clench and let your muscles unwind and soften from their perpetual tension.

But when you watched him slink through your bedroom door tonight, you felt no familiar relief. Your eyes widened and you straightened yourself against the headboard in shock at the sight of him.

In an obnoxious yellow shirt that he had certainly not left in, he looked downtrodden and broken. Blood and soot matted in his hair, his skin pasty white with blushes purple and green, and he seemed to be covered in scrapes and cuts of varying thickness and severity. He walked with a noticeable limp and his clothing was tattered and filthy. Rick had come home in different stages of damage over the years, but you had never seen him like this.

“Baby? What happened?” you asked, still stunned at his disrepair.

Rick looked at you, his eyes deep set and shadowed. His bottom lip twitched and his jaw clenched so heavy you could see his muscles pop and shift in his neck. His expression journeyed from surprise at your wakeness, to shame, and then back to the twisted pain he had come in with. You watched as he took a deep breath, his chest noticeably shuttering on the exhale and your worry began to mount. You refused to wait idly in bed any longer, you threw off the blankets with the purpose to rush to him and mend him the best you could (before scolding him for coming home before getting sufficient medical attention). But Rick beat you to it. In two long strides he met you on the corner of the mattress and stopped you from standing with a hand to your shoulder. His palm was uncharacteristically cold, and you could feel the caked dust and dried blood depositing to your skin.

He towered above you like a collapsing building, swaying and buckling under his own weight until he tumbled to his knees. You tried to catch him as he fell, but gravity was stronger. The room quaked under the clatter of his knees and you cringed at the thought of his already fractured body going through anymore injury. With his free hand, Rick came to grip your waist in a tight hold before his head fell to your lap. He had toppled so quickly, it seemed like his body had finally lost it’s fight, and with that came gut wrenching tears.

You held him to you like a woman crazed, clawing and grasping at his body with your hands and feet to enrapture him in the cocoon of your touch. Your crazed embrace reminded you of a painting you had once seen, of a sullied soldier come home to collapse at the feet of his wife in search of forgiveness for all that he had seen and done.

Panic festered in your gut and spread through your blood like a virus as you held him. Your mind pulsed with questions, concerns, and fear of the worst; all of which were just begging to fall from your lips. But you kept quiet aside from the murmured coos and gentle attempts to calm him. He seemed next to inconsolable as his body shook against your own and he howled with a ferocity you had never heard from him. You had nursed him through many tearful reunions and terrified recollections of his missions, but never like this. All you could do is twine him with your limbs and hope that your love for him was palpable enough to heal him. Or at least enough to get his sobs to stop.

After what felt like an eon of salt water and snot on the fabric of your sleepwear, Rick’s cries began to cease and his body stopped its frightening tremble. You stroked his rumpled head until he was well enough to raise from your lap and fall back to his heels to look at you. His face was brightly flushed from his crying fit, damp with tears, sweat and snot. His eyes were glossed red and his face was in a quivering frown. Never had you seen your man so broken.

“Rick, please,” you choked through your own set of burgeoning tears, “what in the living hell happened?”

He let out a hiccupped sigh as his brows creased, “shit got real, real bad out there. It was like nothin’ I’d ever seen.”

You didn’t realize it, but you had begun to hold your breath.

“It was messy, and bloody and we lost more people than ever. Barely made it out myself. I ain’t sayin’ that to scare you, but… I barely made it out alive. There was… baby, it was so bad.”

You hand clenched tight in the remains of his t-shirt as he continued.

“And just… she was never about helpin’ anyone. Never about order or peace. None of ‘em are. It was always about whatever she wanted.”

“Who? Whose she? Amanda?” you asked in a frenzied whisper.

“Yeah, Amanda,” he said her name with a sneer, “she never cared ‘bout those kids or any civilians. It was always about her agenda.”

“Hasn’t it always been?”

Rick shook his head, “not like this. Never like this.”

“Oh, Rick,” you slipped your bottom lip into your mouth and watched as his gaze became a thousand miles long.

“I’ve done things I ain’t proud of, but I stopped at this. Waller’s fuckin’ crazy, darlin’ and… there’s gonna be fallout, but I don’t care. I’m tired. I’m out. I’m done,” he blinked back to reality and focused back to you.

“You’re done? You’re quitting the Task Force?”

“The Task Force, ARGUS, all of it. I can’t trust any of those fuckers. Not for shit, not for anything. They don’t value anything over their own hides.”

You moved to caress his cheek with a meek noise of sadness and Rick moved to cover it with his palm.

“S’not worth it. None of it is. I know what I want, and who I want to be. Who I want to be with. And none of those things have to do with Waller and all of ‘em got to do with you. With you, and the life I want for us.”

You whispered his name and he kissed your fingertips.

“I’m out baby, and all I want right now is to be with you.”

His confession was shocking, as he had never made it as sweeping as he just had.

Rick’s job was of frequent contention for him. Before he became involved with Amanda Waller and her shady dealings, he enjoyed his work. What he did for ARGUS fulfilled him, made him feel like he was making a positive difference even when his days were grueling or tough. He’d come home wrapped in bandages, with spiky black sutures sticking up like cactus needles from his skin; but he always came home to you with his values and morality intact.

That all changed when he was hand picked to head Task Force X.

Rick was a noble man, raised on the bible and law and order, had only ever seen right and wrong like black and white. Over the time he spent as the captain of his round up of criminals, he gained the ability to see grey. He learned the value of doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. It was one of the many things you respected about him. He enjoyed growing as a person, opening his eyes to the world and molting his skin to a new way of thinking.

Though, as time went on and Waller’s missions for the squad encroached on the grey and bled into malevolent black, Rick hadn’t been the same. With each following operation, any residual gratification had drained from his eyes and his conscience came home in tatters each time.

So, of course, there had been talks of Rick finding a new job. Sometimes he would rage the idea to you as he paced in the kitchen. His face beet red and his hand pulling harsh draws through his hair as he fumed about Waller and her constituents. There were whispered promises over secure phone lines of a better life when he would call from wherever in the world he was. There were jokes he’d make when you’d pass a help wanted sign or when he’d thumb through the classifieds in the paper,

“I’d be much more appreciated as a dishwasher, I’ll tell ya that much,” he’d snark and flip the page.

But none of his past declarations had ever felt this sincere or emotionally earnest.

With a deep breath, you filled your lungs with air to help clarify what you were about to say to him. You were also a whirlwind of emotions at this point, feeling tugs of worry, shock and relief. A relief that maybe you would never have to say goodbye to him again. No more thinking discarded laundry piles were him late at night; no more draped sheets over picture frames in a desperate search to ward off your longing for him; no more lone crying sessions when he’d kiss you goodbye before dawn and promise to be back soon, when you both knew that simply wasn’t a guarantee he could make.

Before you could gather your thoughts to speak, Rick shook his head to preemptively stop you.

“Not now,” he murmured, “not yet.”

He pushed up to rest on his knee and towered to his full height. He removed his hand from yours and you let it fall loosely to your lap as Rick’s eyes roamed over you.

“I just need you, right now. I need to remember what good things are like.”

His board palms came to gently rest on your waist, fingers falling in ascending order as he began to push your shirt up your torso. His movements were deliberate and gained heat as he skated the material across your skin in sensual strokes. Rick moved the fabric over you in a maddening massage as he felt you in all the right ways through the frustrating barrier.

“I just need to feel you.”

Of course, you let him.

Rick fucked you like a man starved, like a man who had gone mute and could only express his love through his body. He confessed his passion with his mouth between your legs, and his devotion with swirling thrusts of his cock inside you. He kissed your mouth with tender reminders of affection, and messy hashings of possessive infatuation that reminded you that you were his. He plucked orgasms from your body like it was his purpose, his satisfaction only coming when he knew he could add a mental tally mark of your peaked pleasure.

Your thighs stung with flowering pain from his powerful drive, but you only wanted more of him. You gripped his ass to push him deeper inside you and hooked your heels around his body to keep him in place. You pulled at his hair and clothed him in his arms, hands wandering around his beautiful form, but never breaking your tight embrace. You wanted all of him, fully and completely, and you needed him to know.

You think he did, you hoped he did.

After his impressive stamina finally petered out and he stuttered his hips into yours for the last time, he fell to his elbows and your panting breathes mixed with the pungent smell of sex that hung now in your bedroom. Still heaving, Rick brought his slick lips upward, to plant a kiss to your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and a final one to your lips. His post mission calling card, the one that told you he was ok, that he was home, that he was finally safe.

With your cheek to his bare chest and your arm slung over his waist, you felt Rick’s fingers dip up and down the notches of your spine. He drew circles over your skin and tapped gentle tunes to your ribs and you swore he was taking inventory of your body, making sure that you were still as intact and soft as he left you. You were, save from the marks he had just left on your body from his intense love making.

When the feeling had returned to your limbs and your brain could form coherent thoughts, Rick’s unsettling return surfaced again. He was still dirty, the sheets (and yourself, for that matter) would need to be washed and some of his wounds still needed tending, too. While it seemed anything serious had been patched up, if haphazardly, he had a few cuts that had begun to pill with fresh blood. You needed to pull him back to himself enough to convince him to clean up, and hopefully enough to tell you exactly what had happened out there in Mexico.

“You know we’re gonna have to talk about it sooner or later,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence that had grown around you.

Rick sighed, “can it wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” you wiggled from his embrace to kneel beside him, much to his dismay, “but we have to deal with these, baby.”

You gestured idly to a few of his cuts.

“Some are still clearly open, and just waiting for infection.”

Rick said nothing, just stayed in his reclined position against the pillows and reached out to brush a splotch of rusty blood (his blood) from your skin.

“I know that these things take time for you to talk about, I’ve been with you long enough to know that,” you nudged him with a small smile and he puffed amusement through his nose, “but you scared the hell out of me tonight, Rick. Fuck, you sorta still are, if I’m being honest.”

He frowned, “I never want to scare you, darlin’. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head quickly and bent to kiss his sternum.

“I just need to know your ok,” you said to his skin, “and I won’t be scared anymore.”

When you leaned back, Rick’s face crumbled back into the man who had entered your room hours before. He looked tired and conflicted and war torn. His jaw swiveled as his tongue slipped over his teeth, and he swallowed thickly.

“I’m not ok,” he said in a resolute tone.

“What happened out there…” he trailed off and shook his head.

He then looked up into your eyes and reached for you. Rick pulled you to shuffle closer to him and arranged his hand on your rib cage, his thumb traced the swell of your breast.

“But I’m far more ok now that I’m with you. And knowing that we have an entire future in front of us, together, that will be so much better.”

Your heart constricted in your chest and filled with thick emotion. It wasn’t what you needed to hear from him, what you needed to help him heal, but it was enough. It was more than enough for now.

“Alright,” you said in a near silent whisper as your throat stung, “I love you.”

Rick closed his eyes as you spoke, like he wanted to soak in your words, ones that you had said a thousand times before, and commit to memory. Like he wanted to block out every other sense or distraction he could that could have him forgetting this moment.

“I love you, too,” he said and opened his eyes, “more than you could ever know.”

You eventually pulled him from the ruined sheets to the bathroom where you shared a shower, and he let you patch him up the best you could. His hands never left your body, stretching and contorting in whatever awkward way he had to when you went to retrieve towels or gather supplies. He kept you in his grasp and in his eyeline, his own reminder that he was ok, that he was home, and that he was finally safe.

i hope you enjoyed and if you did, please let me know commets, likes and reblogs!

xoxoxoxooxoxxox

[poppitron360]

Thinking about names having power in the Riordanverse- because it’s exactly the kind of literature motif that I LOVE.

Thinking about “Leo” being short for “Leonidas” who was a Spartan King who sacrificed his life fighting to save his people in the Battle of Thermopylae.

Leo, similarly, gave his own life to stop Gaea and save the world.

That comparison has already been made before, but there’s more-

Leo rejects the name “Leonidas” and chooses to go by “Leo”- in a way, rejecting the fate he’s assigned to. And he doesn’t suffer that fate in the end. He lives.

Yeah, names have power. But what you choose to name yourself has even more power. For example, the fact that Thalia rejected the last name “Grace” because it associated her with her mother, but then taking it back up again when she found out Jason was alive. And Leo chose to not go by “Leonidas” and he also chose to take the physician’s cure and come back.

And here we get onto what Calypso’s doing. By calling him something that he asked to not be called, she is taking away that agency of choice. She is taking away that power.

It’s a small moment, but it REALLY bugs me. Because, like Leo, I go by a shortened version of a longer name, and often one of the ways bullies used to hold power over me was by calling me by my full name repeatedly, even after I asked them to stop. It’s also a way a lot of transphobes hold power over trans people- by deadnaming. By taking away the power of their name, their choice, their identity, who they are, who they’ve built themselves to be, and their right to control all of that.

Now, I’m NOT saying Calypso is going as far as deadnaming Leo, but it’s a similar premise. It’s a manipulation tactic used to knock people down.

Now friendly nicknames -e.g. “Seaweed Brain”- are different, because Percy consents to it. It’s a term of affection between them (and notice how it’s different when Thalia used it. It’s a name that symbolises percabeth’s love, and it’s a name only Annabeth can use). But this is a name, while said in a jokey, banter-y manner, that Leo has SPECIFICALLY ASKED to not be called. And she does it anyway, ignoring the boundary he’s set, ignoring his choice to shape his own identity, ignoring everything that symbolised INCLUDING the fact that it’s literally Leo saying “I choose life” by rejecting the name that fated him to death. It’s just a big red flag for me. And if you put that on top of the fact that she also physically hurt him in this (enough to make him say “ow”) then you just get a whole host of Reasons Why This is NOT Leo’s “Happy Ending”- which the narrative paints it out to be.

[practically-an-x-man]

Whatever Keeps You Around (Rick Flag x Eris)

Summary: Based on this prompt, Eris runs into an immortal surprise in a very mundane place. (Title from First Time by Hozier)

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: Mild jealousy, mild possessive themes, some mentions of violence.

____

"Go see if they have any bread you like, hon."

Eris nodded, ducking past him and half-jogging up to the shelf of artisanal bread in the corner of the store. This was why he'd picked this store, even though it was small and pricey and overly-organic: Eris claimed it was the only place in New Orleans that made bread the right way, whatever they in their mind deemed the right way.

All Rick knew was that it cost about eight dollars a pop and was loaded with spices he couldn't identify, and that Eris could go through three loaves a week if he let them. Usually he did. The one perk to working for Amanda Waller was the paycheck, and that allowed him at least enough wiggle room to buy the right kind of bread.

She jogged back up to him, two loaves wrapped in paper in her arms, just as Rick had finished thanking the deli clerk for his cold cuts and cheeses. Eris tucked the bread into the shopping cart almost delicately and promptly plucked the deli bags from his hands to inspect his selections.

"Oven-roasted turkey? Not the herb kind?"

"Outta stock. I've got thyme and stuff back at the house if it really bothers you," Rick replied, "What kind of bread did you pick out?"

"Honey-rosemary and something they call rustic medley," Eris muttered, "I'll be the judge of that."

"Sounds pretty good," he agreed, "Maybe we can make butter to go with it."

Eris tilted his head, something Rick stupidly misinterpreted as a lack of understanding.

"I saw it online, you just put heavy cream and a little salt in a mason jar, shake it u-"

"I'd be willing to bet I'm more familiar with making butter than you are, Flag." Eris cut him off, sharp as always, "But why?"

"I dunno. Seems like fun."

"You have a real strange idea of fun. And this is coming from someone who lived through tapestry being the popular hobby." they jeered, but tossed a carton of heavy cream into the cart as they passed the dairy case. Rick tried to hide his smile. If anyone was the definition of 'actions speak louder than words', it was Eris.

He stayed close to Rick's side as they wandered the store, occasionally tossing things into the cart on what looked like pure whim. Cans of tomato soup, the ones Rick remembered mentioning were his favorite because they reminded him of his childhood, made their way in alongside pretzels and peanut butter and bars of high-cacao baking chocolate. It was far too bitter for his tastes, at least in anything other than baked goods, but Eris could snack on it like a Hershey bar. She liked it for the same reason she liked the artisanal bread, he thought. Nostalgia, or the closest thing to nostalgia they could find.

"Lasagna tonight? Or should we just find something to stick in the oven?" Rick asked, frowning at the prices of the pasta boxes on the shelves. Eris was back at his side in a moment, moving so quickly and silently that he would have jumped if he wasn't used to it.

"Hm. Neither. Make your pot pie." he decided, and Rick felt him lean in against his side, "I have a taste for it."

His mother's recipe, the one he'd tried so hard to get right after her death, now lived on as a favorite in the mind of a centuries-old metahuman.

That one made him feel good.

He knew Eris wasn't one for public affection, but he still couldn't resist wrapping his arm around their shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of their head. He pulled back quickly, before Eris could wriggle away or complain about looking soft, and waved a hand at the produce aisle they'd left in their wake.

"Go grab me a bag of baby carrots and some green beans, then," he said, then paused and corrected, "In a bag. Not just loose green beans."

"I know that, smartass." Eris huffed, rolling her eyes at him as she walked away. Rick suppressed a chuckle.

There was someone else in the produce aisle, apparently trying to decide between a starfruit and a cherimoya. They were half a head taller than Eris, with wavy brown hair halfway down their back and a flowing blue sundress swishing around their knees.

Rick didn't pay them much mind, and was about to turn and grab a can of biscuits when Eris froze in his tracks.

"Julius?"

The taller figure whipped around so fast it must have given them whiplash, and their eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Rick could see, even from afar, that their features had the same strangely archaic look as Eris' own, though perhaps a continent and a few centuries apart.

"Oh my- Eris?" they stammered, then gestured vaguely at themself, "And it's- er, Wisteria now. Wisty."

"Wisty." Eris repeated, as if testing out the name, "You're... very not dead, for someone three hundred years old."

"Made a deal with a witch a while back. And you're... very tame for how I remember you."

That made a grin flash across Eris' face, quick and sharp and promising only dark things.

"Try me."

But Wisty didn't flinch. She just smiled right back, though this one was nostalgic, almost soft.

The thought struck Rick like a bolt of lightning.

Eris had a type.

Underneath the flowing fabric of her dress, Wisty had to be at least as tall as Rick himself was, and just as stacked with muscle. Old scars littered what bare skin was visible around her clothing, like she'd been a fighter in a past life- or perhaps still was. And she knew not to flinch at those shark-smiles Eris threw at her. Just like Rick did.

The thought made something strange bubble up inside him. He wasn't sure he liked it. As strange and twisted as Eris' affections could be, he'd never before had competition for those affections. It was actually one of the best things about being with them, knowing they'd always drift back to him at the end of all the chaos.

It wasn't Wisteria's arrival alone that had him so tense. What really got him was the set of Eris' posture as he spoke to her: leaned back slightly on his heels, shoulders loose, head tilted ever-so-slightly in curiosity. Casual. Relaxed. The only time he'd ever seen Eris truly relaxed was when they were alone with him.

"We should catch back up." Wisty decided, a smile slowly growing on her face, "Go... spar like the old times or something. I'm a lot tougher than I used to be."

"I don't doubt it." Eris said, their spine automatically straightening at the promise of a good challenge.

He deserved this, Rick thought. This was some sort of cosmic payback for those two years he spent pushing her aside in favor of June, for snapping at all the times they suggested making him into a metahuman like them - it was all to keep him safe, to keep him around.

Well, here was someone who'd stuck around. Who'd played the long game, the centuries-long game, the way Rick was always so afraid to commit to. Who could hold their own against Eris, when she still had to pull her punches against him.

"What do you think? My lance and your spear, or hand-to-hand?" Wisty asked, playfully throwing up her fists with a broad grin. Eris returned the gesture, bouncing on his toes a little.

It was like he'd forgotten Rick was there, just ten feet back. And even as much as he wanted to call out, to remind them... he couldn't move. All he could do was watch it all unravel before him, the can of biscuits still held tight in one hand. Suddenly his mom's old recipe didn't seem to matter much.

"It'll be like before. You and me," Wisty said, "The old war god and the king's footsoldier."

Then there was a different kind of tension in Eris' posture. The shift was sudden, her chin lifted and her shoulders drawn back, all joviality transformed into something more guarded.

"I'm with someone." he said, each word crisply spaced, and brushed past Wisty with smooth, disciplined steps. They grabbed a plastic bag and shoved a handful of green beans into it, pausing only to pluck a few wrinkled and undesirable vegetables from the lot and toss them back. Wisteria turned, fixing them with a tilted expression.

"You told me you wouldn't love another. You told me love was too painful. You told me... that I was the last one."

Eris snatched a bag of baby carrots, holding them tight in her hand as she turned.

"I was wrong." they said, chin set and eyes blazing, "And if you do a damn thing to him, if you hurt him thinking that'll bring me back to you, I'll kill you where you stand. And I will feel no remorse."

With that, he stormed his way back to Rick and tossed the vegetables into the shopping cart.

"You were staring." they muttered, taking the can of biscuits from his hand and dropping it into the cart alongside the rest of the groceries. Then, to his surprise, they folded their fingers into his own. For Eris, that was the equivalent of a public strip tease. Rick gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, I know. Couldn't help it." he admitted, knowing better than to try and duck around it, "First time I've ever seen one of your old friends. Didn't realize there was anyone else... like me."

"She wasn't like you." Eris huffed, ducking around his arm to give the cart a brisk shove, "Nobody's like you."

"It's alright if she was." Rick argued, "I know I'm not the only person you've loved, doll. That's okay."

Eris opened his mouth to respond, then reconsidered and shook his head. It must've been a lot to explain, or something they couldn't bear to speak in such public company. Their posture was still tense, shoulders stony, and they didn't spare so much as a single glance back at the produce aisle.

"Nobody's like you." she just repeated, even more set and sullen. Rick decided there were two ways he could take that: a sign that this love was real, or a sign that the pattern would end up repeating itself in a few years. He decided to take it as the former. The latter, true as it might be, felt far too pessimistic.

"Rome!" a voice called from behind them, and finally Eris turned. Wisteria had caught up, and fire a glance between the two of them. Rick met her eyes calmly, and found something strange swimming there. She returned her gaze to Eris, unflinching. "A hundred years. Rome. Then we'll have our fight."

Rick could hear the other half of her words: because he won't be around by then. Maybe he should have been offended by the implications. He didn't bother. He'd always known there would be someone after him. He didn't expect to meet that someone, but... this was life with Eris. He'd learned to get used to things like this.

"Fine." Eris agreed, though the firm look never left her eyes, "I will meet you on the steps of the Colosseum in one hundred years exactly. We will have our fight."

Their grip tightened on his hand unexpectedly, right on the verge of being painful. Wisteria's eyes fell straight to it, and she frowned a little. Eris must not have been any more affectionate in their prior life.

"But you will get no love from me then." they concluded, "They will bury my heart when they bury him."

Rick saw hurt bloom across Wisty's face, a shocked and helpless sort of pain, but Eris just spun and gave the cart another brutal shove towards the checkout lanes. Rick found himself pausing an extra moment, looking into Wisty's shockingly crestfallen eyes and debating an apology.

In the end, he just shut his mouth and trailed after Eris, leaving Wisty where she stood. He had a sense that speaking to her would only make things worse. It was better just for him to be, in her mind, some speechless nameless thing at Eris' heels. It was probably safer for the both of them.

He caught up to Eris just shy of the checkout lanes, right as they set a rotisserie chicken in the front basket of the cart. She glanced up at him as he approached and offered him something like a smile. It was a little pointed, a little irritated, but he didn't mind that too much.

"You're mine." she muttered, possessive like a wolf to its mate, "Until they put you in the ground, you're mine."

"I love you too, wartime."

[giowritess]

rick flag idea - need your opinions!!

hey guys!!

over the past few days an idea for a rick flag fanfic has been brewing in my brain (courtesy of the random thoughts i get when i'm high) and i want your opinions about it.

it's an lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers fanfic, with lots of angst and anger and love and smut where f!reader and flag had a past relationship, ended bad and now they have to work together. it's a long idea so it may be a long fic, maybe around 10 pieces... not sure...

so i'd like to know if you'd be interested in reading it and giving feedback!!

but don't worry, OF COURSE i'm gonna finish Fortnight and post the other rick flag smut i started to write back in april and never finished lol university is kicking my ass, sorry.

i'd love to hear any ideas, suggestions or feedback you might have, i'm always open to chat <3

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Hello! I recently found your blog and love it! You are so talented. One of the fics that I read was called “presumed dead” and I was wondering if you had any plans to continue that series or not ❤️

Aww! Thank you, anon! 🤗💕 I really appreciate your kind words about my writing as well as your interest in that fic!

So, here's the deal. I currently have a 2.7k doc for Part 2 of Presumed Dead in my WIPs folder. I still need to finish it, but honestly, I didn't think anyone was interested in it so I never went back to it. HOWEVER, if there is still interest, I think I can fit it in with Whumptober next month.

I absolutely LOVED writing Presumed Dead and for a long time, I felt like it was one of my most well-written fics. So I'd love to go back to it if that is something people would want to read.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

I Got You

Whumpuary 2023: Prompt 2. Infection Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: The mission went from bad to worse. After you are injured, Rick manages to get you to the safe house. However, after an infection sets in, is there anything else he can do?

Word Count: 1203

TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Stab Wound, Blood, Infection, Fever, Chills, Tourniquet, Ambiguous Ending

Note: Thank you to @mayhem24-7forever for the request for some Rick hurt/comfort! Sorry if this isn't exactly what you were hoping for 😬 Written as part of @whumpuary's event.

Rick ripped out the remaining pages from the last book and tossed them into the dwindling fire. It wasn’t much but the flames did flare just a little bit brighter for a moment. Yet he knew the fire couldn’t last much longer, and with nothing else to burn, it would soon go out. 

When he turned his back on the fireplace and faced the couch, he could see the pile of blankets shaking even from this distance. The only visible part of you was the small patch of skin from your eyebrows down to your mouth, and yet, it was obvious you were still freezing. 

Rick ran his hand over the back of his neck as he desperately tried to think of some other way to keep you warm. But there was nothing left in the cabin. With a sigh, he thought about how disastrous this mission had gone…

It was a stealth mission which meant it was just the two of you this time. Once you had managed to infiltrate the building, you split up to each take care of your own individual tasks. However, once Rick finished his part and made it to the rendezvous spot, you weren’t there. He waited for almost five minutes, but when you still didn’t appear, he knew something was wrong. So, despite his orders regarding this sort of situation, he headed down the hall in the direction he had last seen you disappear.

When he found you, you were on the floor, half slumped over, half propped against the wall. Immediately, Rick noticed a large, bloody knife wound on your upper thigh. A sloppily applied tourniquet was wrapped around your leg, but you hadn’t had the angle or strength left to tighten it as much as necessary. Despite your best attempts, blood was still trickling from the wound into a growing pool beneath you. 

As you heard him approach, your eyes flickered towards him, and you smiled. “Hey, Colonel. Am I glad to see you.”

Rick knelt down beside you and allowed his fingers to ghost over your injury. You flinched but didn’t make a sound. As he examined it, he asked, “What happened?”

You gestured towards the body of a guard lying on the other side of the room. “I thought he just had a gun. I disarmed him, but the next thing I knew, he had a knife buried to the hilt in my leg. Once I took him down, I managed to crawl over here, but I couldn’t stop the bleeding.”

Rick sighed heavily, as he placed his hands on the tourniquet. “I have to tighten this and it’s gonna hurt like hell. You good?”

You nodded. Your fingers curled weakly into the fabric on the arm of his tact jacket, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Without any sort of warning, Rick pulled the tourniquet as tight as possible. Your eyes shot open, and your fingers clawed frantically at his arm, yet, luckily, you were able to keep yourself from screaming and alerting others to your presence. You collapsed back against the wall, panting but giving him a small nod to let him know you were alright.

Once Rick made sure the tourniquet was holding, he helped ease you to your feet. Then, he slung your arm over his shoulder and half carried, half dragged you out of the building. Luckily, there was a safehouse only half a mile or so away from your location. However, it soon became clear you could never make the trek. So, Rick lifted you into his arms and carried you the rest of the way.

The shivering didn’t start until he was approaching the cabin. It was only then that he began to feel you shaking in his arms and hear the slight chattering of your teeth. He hurried inside and laid you down on the couch. Slicing open the side of your pants to give him a better view of your injury, his heart sank. The skin around your wound was hot and swollen, a clear first sign of an infection. And when he applied some pressure to it, a strange fluid leaked out of the cut. It was not a good sign. You needed antibiotics and stitches and soon. Yet as he looked around, Rick saw nothing but a few threadbare blankets and a small stack of books. 

Grabbing the blankets, he wrapped them around you as carefully as he could. Then, he tossed a few books into the fireplace and managed to get a small flame burning. For the next two hours, he continued to stoke the fire while your shivering continued to grow worse, despite his best efforts. And now, he was out of options. 

Walking back to the couch, he tried to gauge how bad your condition was. Your face was covered with a thick layer of sweat and your eyes looked glassy under your heavy lids. Despite the fire and the layer of blankets, your entire body continued to shiver uncontrollably, and your blue-tinted lips quivered in the firelight. 

Kneeling down next to you, Rick placed his hand on your forehead and wasn’t surprised to find that it was scalding hot to the touch. If he didn’t get you help soon–

“Rick…” 

The single word caused him to snap out of his musing as his eyes darted to your face. You were still shaking just as much, but your eyes were opened wider, and they looked slightly clearer than before.

Resting his hand on your head, Rick whispered, “Hey, darlin’. How ya feelin’?”

“I’m s-so cold,” you stuttered, trying to draw the thin blankets tighter around you.

“I know. The fire’s goin’ out but I’m gonna try to find somethin’ else to burn.”

“Don’t. Just go… please. S-sooner or later, they’ll f-find us here. J-just leave me and s-save yourself before it’s t-too late.”

Rick shook his head as he stroked your scalding cheek. “Never. I’m not goin’ anywhere without you. Waller will send an extraction team soon and we’ll get you patched up. Until then, we just have to wait it out.”

“B-but Rick–”

“I’m the commandin’ officer and I make the decisions. And I’m stayin’ by your side ‘til the end.”

You nod slightly, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m afraid th-that may be s-sooner than we think.”

“No. You’re gonna beat this, we just need to get you warmer.” He looked around the room one more time for anything that they could possibly burn, but there was nothing. Sighing, he tapped your shoulder. “Scoot over.”

Your face scrunched in confusion, but you did as he said, carefully easing yourself tightly against the back of the couch. Once a small area in front of you had been created, Rick climbed onto the couch and pulled you into his arms, all the while mindful of your leg. You buried your face into the warmth of his neck and he felt your quaking all along the full length of his body. 

Pulling you in even closer so you could take full advantage of his body heat, he ran his hand over the back of your head as he whispered, “It’s okay. I got you, darlin’, I got you.”

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @lorecraft, @green-socks, @yespolkadotkitty, @marvelousmermaid, @heresathreebee, @11thstreetvigilante, @lacontroller1991, @merlehs, @sunshineflowerchild789, @mayhem24-7forever, @lovearne, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @that-sarcastic-writer, @indig0nebula, @katjnordstrom96, @wildbornsiren

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

I wish you would write a fic where… Delphia has been manipulated and deceived by Waller for the last time. She finally snaps and embarks on her villain arc, but will the love of her life, Rick, join her on this journey of destruction? Or will he bend once again and put down the one he loves at Waller’s behest?

(Bonus points if Delphia’s villain alter ego is named The OverSeer)

"I wish you would write a fic where..."

[fangirlofdifferentfandoms]

This makes me want to cry

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 &lt;3 ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[scarareg]

From 0 to 10, which grades would you give to PJO ships?

Hi anon! This is such a fun question! Thanks for sending it! I tried to choose the most popular ships because there are so many variations of them, but if you are curious about a specific one that I didn't mention, feel free to ask!

Percabeth (Percy x Annabeth)

3/10 I give it a 3 only because in PJO they are cute but in HOO they are full of red flags and I hate what Rick did with them. I feel like their goals for the future do not align at all, and it is as if they together because that is what they are used to and not because they are in love. It seems like Percy is always trying to accommodate to what Annabeth wants and I think in the long run that would make him miserable, and those feeling will make worst a relationship that is already fragile.

In the future he is going to resent her so bad, because we already see that he doesn't feel comfortable joking/talking about some topics because Annabeth gets mad, now add him feeling like he has to follow everything she says or do just to be "the perfect boyfriend". It is a recipe for disaster

AnnieLuke (Annabeth x Luke)

1/10 this one is complicated. The thing is that I understand the appeal of a childhood besfrieds to lovers, I love those, BUT Luke never saw Annabeth as anything but a little sister. That + the fact that their relationship became toxic, it just make me uncomfortable. Sorry Annie, but this one is not the one, at least in my opinion (and in Luke's lmao)

Perluke (Percy x Luke)

4/10 I see you fans of friends to enemies to lovers or friends to lovers to enemies, I get it, but to me this one lacks that je ne sais quoi to make it appealing. But I can understand why some people like it. And I am part of the team "Percy had a crush on Luke yet he was the last to know"

Percico (Percy x Nico)

10/10 they are my OTP. I like how they complement each other. They have the history, the angst, the complexity. I like the dynamic of two characters who went through a lot, but deal with trauma in opposite ways.

They are ride or die for each other, but they keep that information a secret from each other, which makes their relationship really fun.

Most importantly Nico thinks Percy is cool AF and he adores him just the way he is. Percy is one of the few people who tried to get close to Nico and to understand him.

Their empathetic nature would make this relationship super sweet, tender and calm. For example, if one of them need to rest or are stressed out, they can go to the other and they will know if they need to talk or just want to nap.

Bonus points because their relationship with each other's parents would make their relationship even more interesting and fun!

Perachel (Percy x Rachel)

9/10 love this one! My second fave Percy ship! This is Percy's loss, to be honest. Their chemistry is super natural and they are always having fun! Rachel seems like a low-maintenance partner, so being with her must be pretty easy. She would not make drama if Percy can't be there with her for some time because he has to save the world or whatever. I think he can chill with her, and just like with Nico, Percy just being Percy is enough

Valgrace (Leo x Jason)

9/10 What I like about them is that both are insecure about themselves but always see the best in each other. Jason is Leo's hype man and Leo is always thinking about how impressive Jason is. Where Leo is chaotic, Jason is calm. Where Jason is anxious, Leo is chill. They just screams healthy couple

Jiper (Jason x Piper)

2/10 the problem here is how the relationship started. Both of them are really kind to each other, but their romance is based on a lie, which neither of them is to blame for, but it just feels wrong. To me, after knowing how their relationship started, Piper seems to like Jason enough to stay a couple, and Jason was too kind and just rolled with it, and that is not good reason to stay with someone in my opinion.

Liper (Leo x Piper)

9/10 shout out to @maygirlsposts to make me see the light with this one! Before, it never crossed my mind they could be a couple, but gosh! They are so cute together!

Piper and Leo genuinely have a connection, they share sense of humor, they have been through difficult stuff together and are empathetic towards the other's problems. They have a healthy balance between being chaotic when they are chilling, and having the ability to have honest conversations when necessary. They are overall wholesome AF!

Extra points for being the healthy version of Hephaestus x Aphrodite

Jasico (Jason x Nico)

10/10 this one is not my ship,only because I prefer them as besties, but I see the vision of their shippers; and I give them a 10 because they are probably the healthiest ship Nico has, to be honest.

Jason is always so patient with Nico, and sincere yet kind. Is great to see Nico feeling at ease with him. Jason has the stability Nico needs in a relationship.

Both bring the best of each other, and push the other to do and be the best they can be!

Jeyna (Jason x Reyna)

8/10 oh what could have been! The tragedy of the lost potential! They were too powerful together and Rick couldn't handle that.

They have history together and understand each other deeply. They are both strong mentally and physically, so they could be the standard of a demigod couple. They are both healthy people on their own, so their relationship would naturally be nice.

Their love story could have been so interesting, like: separated by war and the gods, reunited by fate!

To tell you a secret, I see them as Nico's unofficial parents/older siblings. Basically, they both adopted him separately, protect him, and genuinely care about him. They would have been one hell of parents lmao

Jercy (Jason x Percy)

6/10 this one is fun! Again it is not my ship, but I like their dynamic. They give "Two bros,chilling in the hot tub, five feet apart cause they’re not gay" energy

Frazel (Frank x Hazel)

9/10 this is the only canon ship I like! Frank is super sweet and Hazel is always so kind, both are just wholesome AF! Like two teddy bears! I like that they started out as friends and both were seen as the "weird kids", that makes me think their bond is just genuine!

Lazel (Leo x Hazel)

5/10 they are cute, I just prefer them as friends. And not gonna lie, the fact that Hazel's ex is Leo's grandpa makes them kinda weird to me as a couple.

As friends will give them a 8/10, they need more time to get closer, but they already are super fun!

Fraleo (Frank x Leo)

6/10 They are funny! Like wholesome-awkward meets wholesome-chaotic. They just make me laugh because of how cute they would be, completely adorable! Too pure for this world!

I like this, but personally I like my ships with more angst, so I prefer them as friends. But you guys, their shippers, you must be the cutest, most wholesome people out there!

Leo x Frank x Hazel

7/10 I see the vision, but as you can see, I like Leo being their bestie instead of in a romance. But I understand! What's better than a love triangle? An OT3!

Pipabeth (Piper x Annabeth)

8/10 I like them a lot! This is the ship I like for Annabeth. In general I think Annabeth seems more comfortable with women. It feels like Rick wrote her as a lesbian-who-doesn't-know-she-is-one, but did so whithout realizing. Her chemistry with Piper (and with Reyna) just comes naturally and she looks like she is having fun!

Piper's fun personality complements Annabeth's logical one. Piper is all feelings, Annabeth is all brains, love that!

Also, just imagine their mothers' reactions when they find out they are dating!

Pipercy (Piper x Percy)

5/10 this is fun! But it needs that something else to make it super appealing to me, you know. Both are crack heads so they would be hilarious and a menace together! I can see the appeal! For me, I just prefer them as besties, like "Prepare for trouble! And make it double!"

Solangelo (Nico x Will)

3/10 in canon, 10/10 in fanon

First of all, can we talk about how fucking ethereal their ship name is? The ship name gets an ∞/10!

Now, the ship. I will start saying that I LOVE ships that are opposites attracts, but sadly this ship is a bit like Percabeth, but better. Let me explain. The concept is there, but at the moment of writing their romance, Rick kinda sucks. Genuinely think fic writers do a better job writing them.

For starters I have a problem with Nico being outed by Cupid. And I do not like at all that he doesn't have time to process that trauma, neither his crush on Percy and the heartbreak that comes after his rejection. Will is shoehorned into the narrative because "Nico needs a boyfriend" and Will is the only character available. He was a glorified extra.

This takes me to that I feel Rick thinks a relationship will solve all of your problems. I firmly believe that Nico needed time alone to recover from all of his trauma, which is a lot. But Rick's solution for this kind of stuff is "get a partner!". (Leo and Piper also suffered of this)

Is like: "Did you live through World War II? Your mom died and you were immediately stuck in an hotel for maybe one or two months? When you finally got out, were you in another century? Your sister died one week later? Years passed and you lived on your own for a while and felt scared and isolated from everyone you knew? Did you fight another war? Went to Tartarus and came back and then get kidnapped? You almost died, again? Had to fight again? Don't worry, having a boyfriend will solve all your problems!"

And I HATE IT! This is not Will's fault, it's Rick's. So I feel bad for not loving Solangelo in canon, but I really think Nico needs time for himself, he will have time for boyfriends in the future after he gets in a better head space.

Conclusion Will and Nico deserve better writers.

Once again thanks Anon! Would love to know what you think about this!

[riddikulus-writings]

Distracted

Chapter 15

Still tryin' our damndest to keep Rick's ass alive

“Why are you here?”

“Why are any of us here?”

“Quit gettin’ needlessly philosophical on me, Cadell,” Rick chided, pointing a chopstick at her from across the table, “One day you just… show up and wriggle your ass into my life– it was a legitimate question.”

She noisily slurped up a noodle before answering, “Uh, well. After… y’know, the Accident,” – her husband dying, Rick mentally noted – “I just… I couldn’t do it. The house, the farm. The dogs. The fuckin’ fish, even. Everything just sucked ass. Enlisted the youngest sister in law to move in and watch the place and I just fuckin’ booked it. Ended up on the task forces searching out for meta-humans until Waller plucked me out and took me to Belle Reve for her, instead. I guess I’m grateful, but fuck,” she ran a hand down her face, “If it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here, anymore.”

Rick didn’t want to ask if he meant here in New Orleans or here, alive.

“Well, what was it you’d said that one night? I’ll follow you for life,” he repeated it back to her, “Always be around, wherever life takes you?”

“No, no,” Nyx waved a finger at him, “You’re the leader, here. I don’t lead, I’m a shit leader. My attention span? Whoever I’m leading would get led off a cliff. Like a lemming.”

“Aren’t you the one that told me lemmings only follow each other off cliffs if they’re being chased?”

She pointed a finger-gun at his nose, “Exactly. Only way I’m leading is if we’re being chased. One of us had a good head on their shoulders, and it ain’t me.”

“Gotta give yourself more credit, Eris,” Rick chided, leaning forward on his elbows, “You’re pretty sharp.”

“Sharp like a butter knife,” she chuckled, “Thanks, Flag, though. That means a lot, coming from you. Now, what do you say we get outta here, go get a couple drinks.”

“We have to ship out at three a.m. We need to go to sleep.”

She scoffed and waved him off, taking her other hand to grab his and tug him outside, “Who said anything about sleeping? C’mon, pull an all-nighter with me. Pull an all-nighter with me and I’ll pay for all your drinks next time, deal?”

“You’re nuts,” he wasn’t objecting, though.

“This is how I actually am, the actual me,” she beamed back at him, “It’s how you know I’m comfortable with you.”

“Are you comfortable?”

“Fuck no,” he wheezed out, allowing himself to be lowered to the ground.

“It was rhetorical,” Nyx rolled her back-to-indigo-eyes, crouching in front of him. Her knees knocked his as she moved to straddle his hips. The ground shook, people were screaming in the distance. The remnants of the Task Force were fighting a… hundred-fifty-foot-tall alien starfish… across town.

Said starfish was leveling every building he met.

“I don’t think…” Nyx’s face was centimeters from Rick’s chest, “it’s too deep…?” she was trying to convince herself more than him, “I’m obviously no medical expert, but I do know that you shouldn’t have ripped it unceremoniously from your chest. I am… fuck, left my jacket at Jotunheim. Um– ope, got it,” she flicked out a pocket knife like she likes to do and started cutting at her pant leg.

Rick chuckled dryly through his mouthful of blood, “This brings back memories.”

Now with one leg bare all the way up to the hip joint, she stretched the ripped fabric between her arms, “We need to find different methods of bonding.”

He went dead-weight for her while she wrapped his chest up, whining when she cinched the mediocre bandage across his chest, “We go drinking. Watch movies. Call each other lame. Almost die with each other.”

She leaned in with her nose brushing his, “Survive the day, got it? I’ll never make you watch one of my lame movies again. Deal? Now, if I leave you in this abandoned, dirty alleyway to go fight an alien with some criminals, are you gonna be alive when I get back?”

“Even gonna remember where I am?” he avoided answering because he couldn’t answer that.

“Fuck you, Flag,” Nyx snorted weakly, “I always know where you are. My memory isn’t that bad.”

“Yet.” he grit out, knocking his head back on the wall with a grimace. Fuck his body ached. His chest felt hollow.

“Hey,” she whispered softly. Rick hummed to let her know she had his attention, but didn’t open his eyes– couldn’t open his eyes. His eyelids were heavy. She continued, “Never a lip curved with pain that can’t be kissed into smiles again.”

“Bret Harte–” his response was cut off when Nyx pressed her lips to his. She tasted like blood and soot [so did he] but she also tasted like every unspoken word, every missed chance and every what-if they’ve shared in the last two years. Nyx’s hand slid up to grab at the nape of Rick’s neck, pulling him closer. She denied him when he tried to deepen the kiss–

And then she was gone.

[drabbles-mc]

All Settled

Rick Flag x F!Reader (past: Rick Flag x June Moone)

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: caught in a storm

Warnings: 18+, language, pining, arguing, light angst

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: They're aruging, they're pining, they're stuck in an airport together. We love to see it! also idk i might write more for these two eventually I'm not sure i just don't know but there are Vibes i might explore later lmao

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

It was perfect, really. Not in the way that it was good, but in the way that it happened and all you could do was laugh, shake your head, and think to yourself, “Of fucking course.”

“This funny to you?” Rick asked, clearly not as amused as you as he dropped his bag to the floor with a loud thud. It wasn’t nearly as loud as the clap of thunder that sounded right before he’d spoken to you, though.

“I mean,” you said with a shrug, also letting your bag slip down off your shoulders, albeit with less drama, “it’s a little funny to me, yeah.”

He shook his head, scuffing the toe of his boot along the tiled floor. You could tell by that and the tightness of his jaw alone that he was fighting the urge to punt his own bag across the floor. “Glad you think so.”

You didn’t let it faze you—Rick and his short fuse weren’t anything new to you at this point. “Yeah, because getting mad about it like you are seems to be so much better.”

He opened his mouth to fire back at you, but he stopped himself when he saw the traces of amusement on your face, that you were just going to take whatever he said to you in that moment and flip it right back onto him. You were one of the few people in the world that he would request time and time again to assist with Task Force X whenever he could, whenever he got enough leash to bring in an extra body on his side of things. But it didn’t make him any less annoyed with you in moments like this.

“Don’t get your panties in a knot, Flag,” you said as you dropped into one of the many empty chairs behind you. Lightning flashed outside, bright light coming through all the airport windows for a split second. “We’ll be outta here first thing in the morning.”

He shook his head, trying to figure out if he wanted to pace and be angry about the situation, or sit down next to you and be angry about it instead. His exhaustion won out just enough to get him to sink down into the chair beside yours.

“Made it through all that shit, and we get stuck on the layover. That’s,” he shook his head, “that’s just…”

“Perfect,” you finished for him with a laugh. You looked over at him, watching as he shook his head and tried not to look like he wanted to laugh right along with you. “Look at the bright side,” you stretched your legs out in front of you, crossing one over the other, “least we didn’t get stuck in this storm with the rest of the team.”

The sigh he puffed out turned into a laugh, shaking his head as he thought about the scenario you’d just put into his head. “Fuckin’ A.”

“Exactly.” You let your head drop back to rest against the top of the seat. You stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds in silence before saying, “We should’ve gotten a hotel room.”

Now it was his turn to laugh at you. “Seriously? We’ve been stuck out,” he gestured vaguely, not wanting to say exactly where even though there weren’t many people around, “you know, and you’re gonna bitch about sleeping in an airport?”

Turning your head to look at him, you raised your eyebrows and replied, “I’m off the clock, Rick—I’d like to sleep in a real bed if at all possible.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at you. “Poor thing,” he mocked.

You laughed, elbowing his arm off the rest that separated your chair from his. Like he had any right to give you grief about complaining at this point. “Fuck you.”

Neither of you said anything for a bit after that. The two of you sat there in your insanely uncomfortable airport chairs, with posture that wasn’t fit at all for the caliber of soldier that the both of you were. Both of you were watching the few people who were stuck at the airport with you. Your flight had been one of the last, but it seemed like a couple others that were scheduled to leave late got pushed off until the morning. No one was dedicated enough to getting a hotel room to go outside in the rain and wind to get a cab. So you watched everyone putting together makeshift beds of their own out of their luggage, draping themselves across chairs. Whatever it took to be at least mildly comfortable.

You’d been still and quiet for so long that Rick thought that you might’ve fallen asleep. Tilting his head, he glanced over at you to find you very much awake. Your eyes were fixed on the small cluster of people who were at the gate across from yours. Among them was a woman with two children, young enough that they thought this was all so fun and exciting.

“Why do you always say yes?” he asked you, watching you as you watched everything around you.

Your face contorted in confusion but you still didn’t turn to face him. “Hm?”

“When I put in the request for you, why do you always say yes?”

You chuckled, finally facing him. “Why do you keep requesting me?”

“’Cause I know you won’t let me get shot.”

You laughed at that, trying not to be too loud as everyone continued to hunker down to go to sleep. “Yea, I guess that’s fair.” You pulled your legs up, feet resting on the edge of your seat as you wrapped your arms so that your hands interlocked and rested on your shins. “Maybe I just like making sure you don’t get shot.”

He smiled, a tiny grin that was briefly illuminated by another strike of lightning. “Can’t like it that much.”

You arched your brow. “Want me to start saying no? Leave the big bad Colonel all on his own?”

He shook his head at you. “Not what I said. I just, I don’t know.” He crossed his arms, letting them rest over his stomach as he looked at the same place you’d just been looking. “You always seemed like you were looking to settle down. This,” he laughed, “this shit ain’t settled.”

You hummed in amusement as you nodded. “It’s not.” You paused. “I’m just, I don’t know, guess I haven’t really found someone to settle with yet. Not gonna give this up with no reason to.” You waited for him to look at you. “Lucky for you, though, huh?”

He nodded, gave you a quick smirk, but he didn’t say anything else in response. You couldn’t tell if there was more that he wanted to say. Either way, it didn’t matter much. He sunk down a little farther in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him. The heel of his boots rested just on the far side of his ridiculously large duffle bag, ensuring that no one would be able to try and snatch it without him noticing. You shook your head at the precaution—it didn’t seem like anyone in present company was going to want any of his fatigues and t-shirts that hadn’t been washed in a week. You let him have that, though. You watched as his chin dropped and tucked towards his chest, eyes falling closed even though he probably wouldn’t actually fall asleep for a long time.

“Think you’re ever going to?” you asked, propping your chin on your knees as you did.

His eyes were still shut as he asked, ���Ever gonna what?”

“Settle down?”

His eyes slowly opened, muscles tensing as he processed the two-word question. “I don’t know.”

You were nearly kicking yourself for ruining the moment. Things were fine. You didn’t have to pry, but you did it anyway. You just couldn’t let things lie—it was a habit you always meant to work on and never got around to it.

“Sorry,” you said, your voice tentative in a way that it hardly ever was with anyone, least of all with Rick.

He looked at you, brows meeting in confusion. “For what?”

You knew that answering the question was just going to dig a deeper hole, but you also knew that you weren’t going to be able to ignore the question, either. Stubbornness was one of the traits that you and Rick shared.

You shrugged, wishing that you could pull your legs in farther, make yourself smaller and disappear out of this conversation. “It’s not my business. I know that…it’s just…I know since June you sorta just—”

“Got it,” he cut you off.

You fought the urge to sigh with everything in you. You were annoyed with yourself, but you were annoyed with him too. “Right.”

There was just enough of a shift in your tone to keep him hooked into the conversation, even though it was evident that neither of you wanted to continue it. “What?”

You shook your head. “I’m not doing this with you, Rick.” He went to try and argue but you kept talking before he could. “You don’t wanna talk about it so we’re just, we’re not gonna talk about it. Forget I fuckin’ said anything.” There was a long stretch of silence and before you could use any impulse control you said, “But to be fair, you asked me first.”

He sighed. “We doin’ this right now?”

“What this are you referring to, exactly?” you snapped, voice hushed. The rain beating down and echoing against the roof helped to hide some of your conversation.

“Since when do you wanna talk about that? About all my shit? About, about June?” He hesitated on it but he still managed to get the question out. You couldn’t remember the last time he actually said her name.

You were too caught up in your frustration to empathize about it though. “Are you serious?” You let your feet drop back to the floor, adjusting yourself in your chair so that your entire torso was turned and facing him. “You’re gonna sit there and pretend that I’m the one who never wanted to talk about it?” You scoffed. “Fuck’s sake, Rick. The only reason I found out the two of you broke up in the first place was because Boomer made some asshole comment and you nearly tossed him out of the helicopter. You have never wanted to talk to me about all of that. About anything, really.”

Rick’s fists were clenched at his sides, trying to keep himself from getting too defensive but you weren’t making it easy for him. You never did. He didn’t make it easy for himself, either. “Hey—”

“Actually, now that I think about it,” you cut him off, “you never talk to me about anything outside of work. You know all about me, but I don’t know shit about—”

“That’s not true,” he interjected, voice firm enough to give you pause. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat at that. He wasn’t wrong. But you weren’t completely wrong either. You both knew plenty about each other but there were always a series of walls that Rick kept up, ones that you never got around to building for yourself. Moments like that made it hard not to feel the distance.

“Whatever,” you finally said, not wanting to give in and actually tell him that he was right.

He was still shaking his head at you as he went back to staring at his boots. “Don’t know why you care so much anyway—not like you ever liked her.”

“What? I,” you sputtered as you shook your head, “I had no problem with June. What are you talking about? I barely even knew her.”

It was true. Outside of the events of Midway City, you had next to no contact with June. Rick was pretty much her sole protective detail, hence how the rest of their entire situation played out. You were part of his team that time around too, although despite being his right hand, you were far from the top of his priority list the way that you were all the times after that when you guys handled ops together. But that was the only time you ever really spent around June, and to say that you really spent it with her would’ve been a stretch even under the most forgiving circumstances. But still, you never had a problem with her.

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle—either way it was full of attitude. “Right.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Fuck you.”

You angled yourself away from him, turning your body so that you were facing forward again. Part of you wanted to get up and walk to another part of the airport. It would’ve been pointless, though. In just a few more hours the two of you would be sitting next to each other on the plane anyway. There was no escaping him until the trip was over. For a split second, you let yourself indulge in the thought that maybe next time you’d say no when he asked you to tag in.

“Should’ve gotten out when she did,” you mumbled.

You heard the sound of his clothes rustling as he turned to look at you. “What was that?”

You didn’t hesitate, not looking at him but speaking just a little louder, and a whole lot clearer. “I said you should’ve gotten out when she did.” You turned and looked at him, wanting to hit him with the full weight of what you were going to say next. “Maybe then you’d still—”

“Don’t fuckin’ go there,” he said, tone low but brimming with anger.

You rolled your eyes, slumping back against the chair. “Yes, sir.”

There were only about ten seconds between your response and him speaking up again, but those seconds felt like hours to Rick as he tried to force himself to just be honest instead of angry for once. Or at least be honest while he was being angry.

“It was because I wouldn’t give it up,” he finally said, bitterness coating his voice.

Your face scrunched in confusion for a moment before you turned your head to look at him. “What?”

“She left because I wouldn’t give it up. She wanted nothing to do with any of it after everything that happened. I got that. She was just waiting for me to walk away from it too.”

“You got into this shit for her—why didn’t you walk away?”

“Think Waller was just gonna let me walk?”

You shrugged. “Not at first. But she’d get tired of fighting you eventually.” You paused. “She probably would’ve ended your entire military career though.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “no thanks.”

“How long did it take her to realize you weren’t gonna quit?” you asked, figuring that if he was gonna open the door you might as well take a peek inside.

He shook his head. “Longer than it should’ve for someone as smart as she is.”

“Love makes you stupid.”

He let out a laugh, one that was one part sadness, one part humor. “Yeah, it does.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. Not on you.”

“You really love this shit, huh?” you asked, really processing the full weight of what he was telling you. Rick had turned his whole life on its head to save June. He said it himself that she was the only woman he’d ever really cared about. From the way he was acting during everything leading up to what happened at Midway City, you were certain that he would’ve done anything for her. But apparently not.

If he laughed you couldn’t hear it over the rumbles of thunder. “’Bout as much as I hate it.” He looked over at the windows for a moment, able to see the rain pelting down in the dark, then he looked back at you. “Stupid, right?”

You chuckled quietly. “That’s how you know you love it.”

“What’s your excuse, then?” he asked. “Because I know you sure as shit don’t love this.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling in the hopes that it would hide all of the thoughts that were racing through your brain because of his question. “Just an adrenaline junkie now, I guess.” You looked over at him. “Regular military ops just don’t do it for me anymore.”

He was slowly starting to let the tension drop out of his shoulders, his guard slowly coming back down as the both of you began to get back to some sort of common ground. “That’s it, huh?”

It wasn’t the time to get into it. It probably wouldn’t ever be the time to get into it. “That and, like you said, someone’s gotta keep you from getting shot.”

He was shaking his head at you, but at least this time he was almost smiling while he did it. The two of you had always had that going for you—no matter how quickly things tensed up between you, you usually managed to cool back down almost as quickly. Some of that was from all the years and hours you’d spent together, some of it was because in the situations you found yourselves in out in the field, there was no time for grudges so it was best to just let shit go if you could. But for yourself, you also knew that there was an element of not wanting to hang onto that, not with him. It’s why you’d always say yes when he asked you.

For a few seconds it was quieter than it had been. The rain lightened enough to not be echoing as it fell against the roof. The thunder and lightning subsided, and the conversation between you hit a lull. So when Rick cleared his throat, it seemed louder than it really was.

You turned to look at him and found him already staring at you. You raised your eyebrows, silently prompting him to say whatever it was that he was gearing up for. His brows scrunched for a split second, a final hesitation but he was still going to go through with it.

“We’re…?” he trailed off, his tone enough to fill in the rest of the question for him.

You smiled, nodding. “We’re good. Don’t worry,” you shifted in your chair so that you were leaning against his side, your head resting on his shoulder, “I won’t leave you hanging next time you call.”

He chuckled, wanting to shake his head and come back with a snarky remark, but he didn’t have it in him. Tilting his head, he looked over at you and for the first time in a long time, he felt a pull of something deep in his chest. A feeling that he wasn’t sure he could afford to put too much stock in. He let his head drop to rest against yours. “Thanks.”

[princessmisery666]

In case you missed it 💜

For make up title game: "I Would Do Anything For Love.... Including That"

Rick Flag x Reader.

Not beta’d. posted from my phone sorry if formatting is off.

You're pouting, full on toddler pouting because you think it will help sway Rick’s decision.

Rick knows he’s going to agree, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you, including what you’ve asked of him, despite the shit he knows he’ll get from Task Force X. But it will be worth every joke he receives because he likes the way you beg. The imploring tone you use, pressing your body against his, running your hands up and down the exposed skin of his arm, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. It sets him ablaze and he has to swallow down a groan.

If that weren’t enough to make him agree he especially loves that in order to get what you want you bribe him, offering him something he wants in exchange for something he’d do for free because he just wants to spend time with you.

“So I wear this to the movies?” Examining the multicoloured hoodie, “and you’ll come to the weapons seminar with me?” He asks, setting out the deal.

“Yes,” you say, looking up at him from under your lashes. “I promise.”

He’s getting the better half of the deal, spending eight hours giving lectures to rent a cops and then spending his evenings with you in exchange for him wearing a piece of clothing and sitting through a movie.

He sighs, faking that it’s an inconvenience but it’s really not. “Fine.”

“Yay,” you squeal, jumping up and kissing his cheek, “you're the best.” You skip toward the locker room, excitement not allowing you to keep your feet on the ground.

Rick watches you go, sighing sadly this time, “I love you.”

Though he’s not sure you haven’t already figured it out, maybe he’ll find the courage to tell you that soon. For now he’ll keep showing you, the best way he knows how.

Made up fic titles.

[kitkatpadywaks]

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Last Updated: 19th October 2024

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[practically-an-x-man]

Vestalia (Rick Flag x Eris)

Summary: After two years with June, things finally crumble for the last time. Rick finds solace in an unlikely source.

Word Count: 3000 exactly (wow)

Tags: Referenced Rick Flag x June Moone, post-breakup, pre-relationship with Eris, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, mentions of alcohol

Crossposted on AO3

____

“You know what your problem is, Flag?”

“What the fuck are you doing here.” It was too sullen to really be a question. He was hunched over the kitchen table, and in the dim half-light Eris could see the shine of tears on his cheeks. It was rare to see him cry, more than rare, and it almost made them pause. 

“She left her key. Under the doormat.” they responded, setting it down on the kitchen counter as they passed, “Stupid place to hide a key, I think. Especially if it unlocks something valuable.”

“Tch. Yeah. My shit apartment’s so worth robbing.” he muttered, shaking his head without looking up.

“I don’t mean the apartment.”

That brought his eyes to her, finally, and they flicked across her face as he pieced together what she’d said. Eris felt a shiver of… something, maybe linked to the admission itself and maybe linked to the look in Rick’s eyes. As much as he hated the sight of tears in them, the strange sort of hope that flickered at the words was even worse. 

Then he shrugged it off, and ran a hand over his face to swipe away the rest of his tears. Eris found himself relaxing, with that little reminder gone. The emotion still filled the room like a New England fog, but it was easier without the physical reminder written across his face. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d seen so much candid emotion from him. 

Perhaps it was the death of one of his military comrades. A squadmate. A close friend. Three years back. Eris didn’t remember his name, but she remembered how it had torn Rick apart. She remembered how he’d retreated, how he’d fled to bars and drunk himself stupid, and she remembered finding him there and coaxing him back. He wasn’t sure why he’d thought to reach out, to comfort him of all things, but it was enough for Rick to bounce back. 

And now here he was again. A lesser loss, a loss without true death, but it still struck him just as hard.

“So you’re here.”

“I am.” Eris agreed, still hovering vaguely by the door. She hadn’t expected this. She’d come for a celebration, a memory of an old midsummer festival, not for a brokenhearted man in an empty apartment. 

“Did you see her?”

“On the way out.”

“Did she look angry? Or upset?”

“Maybe. She’s always sort of scowling. I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Hm.” He didn’t believe them, and he was right not to. It wasn’t quite the truth. Eris paid a lot of attention, always did, and they had indeed noticed June on her way out of the building. She’d been red-faced, clearly crying but clearly trying to restrain herself, and she’d glared at Eris as they crossed paths. 

But she figured Rick didn’t want to hear that.

“Something happened?”

“Yeah.” The word was almost a laugh, sharp and self-derisive. Eris suppressed a shiver, that ancient beast in the depths of their heart just beginning to stir. They battled it down. Not now. Not for Rick, and especially not when he was so vulnerable. He scoffed. “Something happened.”

“You have a problem, you know.”

“As she made very clear.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Fine. So what’s my problem, then? Enlighten me.”

“Your problem is…” Eris sighed, and slid into the seat beside him, “You never expect to be blindsided. You give too much of your heart away. You let someone wrap you around their little finger, and you let them use you up when they decide they’re done with you. You make friends out of your enemies but never expect the tables to turn the other way. And it gets you into trouble.”

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for this right now.” Rick huffed, “I already feel like shit, I don’t need you to-”

“But it’s one of the things I respect about you. You’ve got a hell of a conscience for someone who’s spent half his life with a gun in his hands. That’s… rare, in this world.”

He paused for a moment, then reached out and set his hand on Rick’s forearm. He couldn’t pretend he was good at this, not in the slightest. But she knew Rick would do the same for her, if he’d found her in the same position. Reciprocity wasn’t a motto Eris often lived by. They couldn’t explain it. 

“She’s just lost one of the good ones. Perhaps one of the only good ones left. She’ll never find another one like you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.” Rick muttered, clearly brushing his words aside. 

“Do they make greeting cards for things like that?”

“Maybe. I dunno.” he said, “Thanks for trying, I guess.”

Eris scoffed. 

“Goddamn it, Rick, do you really think I’m the type to just sit here coddling you for the hell of it? Why do you think I’m here?”

“Couldn’t even begin to guess. But you’re doing a fantastic job of it so far.” Sarcasm dripped off the words, and Eris could have laughed. He restrained himself.

“Fine. Want a drink?” she asked, lifting a bottle onto the table. Rick reached out to turn it, inspecting the label for a moment or two. Then he sighed. 

“Too torn up to appreciate it, I think. Waste of good whiskey.”

“I have more. It didn’t used to be so expensive,” Eris pointed out, but reached down and lifted a second item up onto the table - a six-pack of beer. “But I figured you’d say that. Pick your poison, then. My good vintage whiskey, or Budweiser.”

He reached for one of the beers, cracked it open, and took a hefty swallow. Eris, in turn, opened the whiskey and swigged it straight from the bottle. It wouldn’t do much of anything for him - the last time he’d been anywhere near drunk was back on Themyscira, with a good strong Amazonian wine - but it was a damn fine whiskey either way.

The room was silent until Rick finished his first beer. He didn’t even pause before reaching for a second one. Eris just waited there beside him. They didn’t know what they could say - the booze had really been their only play - and they worried whatever crossed their lips could end up twisting into something vicious. For once, he tried to keep the murmur of conflict quiet within him. That wouldn’t do here.

“Came outta the blue, too.” Rick muttered, as if finally voicing the thoughts that had been running through his head for a while, “Thought we were doing okay. Not… great, but okay. And that’s a lot of what relationships are, I think. Or just… how life is. You get through the okay times and the good ones come along again eventually. But I guess not. Not with her, at least.”

They’d expected him to be angry. They’d seen him angry, time after time out in the field, and they thought they’d see the same thing here. But instead he just seemed resigned to it, melancholy but resolved, so much quieter than she ever would have expected.

Maybe he’d known this was coming. Maybe he’d known for a while. There was no surprise in it, and therefore no real anger. 

Maybe that was for the best. This was the calmest Eris could possibly be, the closest he’d ever come to a comforting presence.

“She just…” Rick continued, now with low flickers of bitterness underneath the words. It still wasn’t true anger, but it was sharper than the quiet sadness from before. “She just shows up, says she’s going off to Argentina. Some… I dunno, some ancient ruins she wants to investigate. She just got back from Mexico last week, doing the same thing. And I said that, and I guess that was the wrong thing to say, because…”

He let out another deep sigh, and paused to take another long swig of beer. Eris glanced over at him, and found him brushing a hand across his eyes. She frowned. This one had hit him hard. She could see that. It needled unpleasantly at her heart.

“Because then she started talking about how I’m always gone, wrangling the Squad and all,” he finally continued, “And how ‘at least her work doesn’t put her in the literal crossfires of the world’s most dangerous people’, and how ‘you’re going to get yourself killed out there someday’, and wouldn’t that just ruin her, and before I knew it she’s saying she can’t do it anymore.”

Another pause. He finished off his second beer and nearly reached for a third. Then he paused, just long enough for Eris to offer the bottle of whiskey to him instead. Rick shook his head. His fingers drummed incessantly on the tabletop.

“And I think maybe we would’ve been alright, y’know, if I’d just left it at that. She’d go off to Argentina, study some artifacts, and then she’d come back and I’d take her out to dinner and we’d get back to making it work.” he said, “She was upset, but not… awful upset. Maybe we’da worked things out.”

“And then?”

“And then I mentioned the fucking Enchantress.” Those words tore out of him quickly, with a fresh bubble of anger - anger at himself, Eris realized, and bit her cheek to keep this new conflict from twisting within her. She couldn’t fire back. Not now. 

Rick shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep scowl.

“I reminded ‘er that that was how we met, and that she was the one out in the crossfires and nearly gettin’ killed out there, and if I hadn’t been with the Squad she’d probably be dead herself, and that… that was the wrong thing to say. True, yeah, but… the wrong thing. So she’s all, ‘it wasn’t my fault, you know it wasn’t my fault, how can you even bring her up when you know how much she hurt me?’ and I’m going ‘yeah, but why’d you break the fuckin’ totem in the first place, you shoulda been careful and maybe that wouldn’t’ve happened at all’ and then she’s really pissed-off and saying it all was a mistake, we were a mistake, and to go back to that-”

He snapped his mouth abruptly and dropped his head. Eris turned his words over in his mind. He had a feeling he knew what came next. 

“Go ahead.” they said, with a calm that shocked even themself, “Keep going. I’ve heard it before.”

Rick looked over, something strange swimming in his eyes. Eris couldn’t make sense of it, but they met his gaze without blinking. Finally he nodded, though his jaw was set tight.

“She said… go back to that sadistic nightmare you spend so much time with, if you really want to fight like this.”

“Well. She’s got an awfully high opinion of me, doesn’t she?” Eris remarked, rather dryly, and tossed back another swallow of whiskey. It burned the whole way down, but it was a comfortable warmth. Rick chuckled humorlessly from beside her.

“Yeah. Apparently.” he muttered, then spared them another brief glance, “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Eris thought on that one for a long time. He knew Rick appreciated his presence out on the battlefield, even if out of nothing more than pure survivalist logic. They were a good fighter, physically and mentally resilient, and he could rely on them. And she knew Rick had a bad habit of giving away his heart. He cared too much. There were only two ways to survive on a team with supervillains, they thought - Rick’s method, to care so much that you made those alliances anyway and damned the consequences, until you had more allies than you had enemies… or not to care at all, to make no connections. And somehow Rick and his risks had survived much longer than the ones that hardened their hearts. 

But moments like these? Outside the battlefield, the alliances? Put in a place where Eris faltered and failed, where he needed comfort and all she could give him was booze and too-sharp banter, where she couldn’t be what he needed? He was still grateful for her presence?

She couldn’t say that was new. In a way, it was the opposite. This was old, by decades or centuries or millennia. It always started with words like these.

But they were here. And that was… something.

“It’s a bad day for this, you know.”

“Tell me about it.” This time Rick took the bottle when Eris passed it over to him, and took a long swig before he handed it back. Eris traced his fingers along the rim of it, trying not to think of how his lips had just occupied the same space. It must have been two hundred years since the last time they’d felt these odd little flutters. 

The last one had died in battle, of course. His body was so ruined, torn by bayonets and stamped by warhorses, that Eris could only identify him by the scraps of his many tattoos still visible on the battered flesh. He’d gotten one of them, a great sea serpent winding from his hips to his collarbone, as a means to impress her. Pain tolerance, he’d said, his willingness to be pierced by needles in the name of love. 

Love. Was that what it was? 

Either way, Eris had found the head of the sea serpent six feet away from the rest of him. Gone too early. Like all the others. And that was that.

Were they so sure they wanted to start that again? To risk devoting their heart, knowing it would all end too soon?

Eris shook her head, as if tossing away the thoughts.

“No, really. It’s… unlucky. Today marks Vestalia, the celebration of Vesta and the home. That was why I brought the whiskey. Figured we might celebrate, until I saw her leave. It’s an unlucky day for a home to break.”

“It’s been breaking for a while now.”

“I know.” 

Eris took another drag from the bottle, swishing the liquor around in his mouth before swallowing it. There was something he liked about all this, treating this rare and so-called “vintage” whiskey the way he would simple moonshine or mead. She didn’t believe in hoarding away the good times. Any time was a good enough time, they figured, and waiting for that “rainy day” to show up usually meant the rain just came and went. Rick didn’t speak.

“You pushed me aside for her, you know.” Eris found himself muttering, “You met her, and you let her wrap you around her little finger like you did with all the rest, and soon she was all you talked about. You told me I was your number one, and yet you closed me out of your home the moment she asked you to. I’d have expected that from someone else, but… I thought you were better than that.”

Rick stared at the empty beer bottles, laid out on the table in front of him. His fingers traced through beads of condensation, scattered across the scuffed wood. His lips opened and closed, finding words, but it was a while before he spoke again. 

“I didn’t realize it bothered you. I thought you didn’t care about people. Figured you’d just move on to the next war, or the next guy, or whatever it is that you do.”

To his credit, she nearly had. She’d been shocked at the weight of her own betrayal, and it had almost been enough to spur her onwards. It had been a good few years, following him by his battles and meeting up after the sun had set, sometimes drinks and sometimes more, but everything had to end. And he’d thought it might have ended with June. The emotions were too heavy, at first. 

But he liked Rick. That was the crux of it. He liked Rick, on some level or another (what level that was, he still wasn’t fully sure), and he wanted to keep him around. June or not, cast aside or not, there was only one Rick Flag in the world, and nothing to bring him back once he was gone.

“I didn’t.” Eris whispered, their voice far more rough than they expected, “I’ve always been here.”

He looked over at her, with an expression like it was the first time he’d ever really seen her. There was an intensity there, the sort of intensity they’d usually only seen while under fire, and it made something shiver deep within them.

Somehow they weren’t surprised when Rick reached out, clasped the back of their neck with one large hand and drew them closer. Eris let him. Maybe that was wrong, maybe a better person would have waited until he was in a better state of mind, sans-booze and sans-emotion, but they let him. 

He held her too tight and tasted of whiskey and beer. It was a long kiss, somehow both impassioned and strangely hollow, and Eris couldn’t help thinking of June’s lips on his in place of their own. When was the last time he’d kissed her? How fresh were those wounds?

But it was a nice kiss regardless. Eris couldn’t bring himself to care about the details. 

Except one.

“I won’t be your rebound.” he muttered, “It can be something or it can be nothing, heart or just sex, but I won’t be your rebound from June. If you want me, I need to know you want me. Not just a body in your bed.”

Rick pressed his lips together. His eyes flicked back and forth across their face, visibly sorting through his thoughts. Finally he drew back with a sigh. 

“Then I can’t. Not yet.” he decided, albeit with palpable pain, “I just… I don’t know yet. It’s still too fresh.”

“Alright. Then I’ll wait. However long I must.” they said, and stood up from their seat, “Call me when you’re ready.”