#tss 2021

[reveluving]

the bump in the night ; rick flag x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, Irene.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's all they ever wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No reply.

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

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

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

“How big?” 

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

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

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

He just had to play it safe. 

He slowly broke into a sinister smile.

“You three ever heard of a hellhound?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

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

#reve's quirky reverie 🕷 #— reve's reverie 🌹 #rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x female reader #rick flag x f!reader #rick flag x you #rick flag imagine #rick flag fanfiction #colonel flag #colonel rick flag #colonel rick flag x reader #tss 2021 #tss #joel kinnaman #husband rick #hubby rick

[notcruvusmemes]

Harley's handle is inspired by the fic "and a pot of gold at the end" by l_oves on AO3 (link)

#watched the suicide squad (2021) this week and was inspired #the suicide squad #tss 2021 #harley quinn #abner krill #polka dot man #harleen quinzel #suicide squad #image description in alt

[krillposting]

ok PLEASE tell me you've watched the Suicide Squad deleted scenes bc I cannot believe we were robbed of the "one glorious act of rebellion" scene in the actual film. I mean holy shit that's top tier acting why TF would they cut it

Of course!!! That scene is so emotional and Abner absolutely pours his heart out. Beautiful acting from Dastmalchian. As far as I'm concerned, it's canon.

My theory for why they cut it, is that it makes Abner just a little too main character. I've always contended his arc is the emotional centre of TSS, but if the Starro ending was always endgame, they may have thought they'd gain more by focusing on other characters' arcs (especially Cleo's).

But yes, it's such a pivotal point for Abner's character development. And also interesting for seeing Thinker's manipulation skills in action.

Don't even get me started on the polkadot misdirection cut scene!

#tss 2021 #it's all for you abner krill #polka dot man

[loverhymeswith]

Motivation | Rick Flag x F!Reader

Summary: You weren't expecting your secret trip to Belle Reve's swimming pool to end in a private rehab session with Colonel Rick Flag. But you're glad it did.

Word Count: 4K words

Warnings: Description of injury, talk of scars, use of walking aids, rehab

A/N: I guess this means the hiatus is over. Thank you @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading, and thank you @sociiallydiisoriiented for helping me through my slump 💖

Staring through the floor-to-ceiling window, which looks as if it hasn’t been cleaned once in Belle Reve’s sixty year history, your stomach drops; this was not part of the plan. According to Task Force X’s rigid training regime, the prison’s swimming pool is supposed to be vacant right now. And you should know - under normal circumstances you would have departed the pool along with your squad almost an hour ago. Judging by the commotion taking place on the other side of the glass, however, this seems to be far from the case.

Stepping back until you are mostly hidden by the ancient, rusting lockers that run along the centre of the changing area, you watch on with a mixture of concern and frustration. Two frazzled-looking prison guards are attempting to disperse a fight that has broken out at the shallow end of the pool. At this distance, you can’t quite pick out the team members involved in the scuffle, but there is at least one face you do recognise. From her position on top of the lifeguard tower - an entirely unqualified position for the princess-of-crime, who has only recently graduated from her water-wings - Harley Quinn observes the spectacle with unbridled glee. 

As the scene unfolds, your eyes wander to the far edge of the pool. A broad figure in a tight navy t-shirt and loose-fitting swim shorts stands with his hands on his hips. Although no sound carries through the filthy glass, you know Colonel Rick Flag well enough to take a guess at what kind of expletive-laden sentences might currently be streaming from his parted lips.

Ignoring the tiny flutter in your chest that seems to make an appearance whenever Rick is nearby, you retreat into one of the changing cubicles before anyone notices your presence. It’s been a couple of months since your injury, but you’re in no hurry to see any of the squad. In fact, ARGUS’s unpaid sick-leave policy is the only reason you’re here at all. It’s far from ideal, but all employees are entitled to free-use of the prison pool, and with no paychecks coming in until your leg is healed, you’re in no position to be picky. 

There’s a whole host of excuses as to why you aren’t quite ready to face the squad today, not least because of the thick purple scar running from just below your left hip, all the way down to the middle of your calf. The doctors continue to remind you how lucky you were not to lose your leg, but it doesn't make acceptance any easier. While you’ve never been particularly concerned about body image, this latest scar is just another permanent and ugly reminder of exactly how dangerous your job can be. Of how close you came to losing everything. 

You’re not left alone with your dark thoughts for very long. Chaos follows the Suicide Squad wherever they go, and pandemonium soon descends upon the previously unoccupied changing area; shouting, screaming, and the occasional grunt of pain. Remaining sequestered within your tiny cubicle, you wait for the cacophony to end. With any luck, your plan to slip in and out of the pool unnoticed remains intact.

Only once Harley’s high-pitched cackle finally fades into the hallway and down the corridor do you dare to step out of your sanctuary. Taking care not to slip on the copious amounts of water now drenching the grey tiled floor, you adjust the straps of your standard-issue swimsuit, and gingerly make your way to the poolside.

Late afternoon sunshine streams through a gap beneath the yellowing blinds, reflecting off the surface of the water. With the pool finally deserted, it’s almost peaceful - providing, of course, that you ignore the fact you’re in a maximum security prison that hosts some of the world’s most dangerous criminals.

As you reach the water’s edge, contemplating how you’re going to tackle your entrance, the supplies cupboard at the other end of the pool flies open. No longer straining beneath the tight navy t-shirt, a set of wide, tanned shoulders emerges from the narrow doorway. Apparently, the pool isn’t quite as deserted as you’d hoped. 

In retrospect, Rick’s discarded t-shirt is clearly visible on one of the wooden benches lining the walls. But even without the clothing as a clue, you should have figured that he’d be sticking around for a while. Tidying up the equipment has always been one of your responsibilities, and you know for a fact that Waller doesn’t have spare lieutenants lying around at her disposal.

Torn between fleeing or staying rooted in place, your stomach lurches uncomfortably. Realistically, you’re going nowhere fast. The wound itself might have healed, but the pain in your leg persists. To say you're not as light on your feet as you used to be would be an understatement. The injury has affected your mobility in other ways, too. It killed you to trade in your beloved stick-shift for something automatic, but the doctors warned you it could be up to a year before you see any real improvement. 

In the end, Rick turns around before you can even consider executing an escape plan. You notice his double-take as he spots you, hazel eyes brightening while the furrow in his brow fades. Rather than shouting across the pool - you suspect he must be hoarse from hollering at the squad all afternoon - he starts to lope over, his grin widening with every step.

“Damn, is it good to see you," he calls out, rapidly closing the distance. "How you been holdin' up?”

Rick's smile has always been infectious, and despite your discomfort at realising you’re not alone, you feel your own lips twitch upwards. "I'm ok." It's not quite a lie. More of a half truth. But Rick doesn't need to know the details. You can guarantee that he has been beating himself up over what happened. He told you as much during his visits to your hospital bed. 

Folding your arms self-consciously over your chest, you subtly shift your weight, hoping he doesn’t notice how you favour your good leg. Hoping he doesn’t notice the walking stick you hid away at the back of the changing area. Because you can be sure that he’s watching you carefully, assessing you for any sign of weakness. 

Tightening your jaw against the constant throb of pain, you allow your own gaze to travel over Rick. It’s hot and humid in the pool area. His damp hair is swept back from his face, and a thin sheen of sweat clings to his golden skin. A handful of scars have been added to his collection too, but he looks good. Healthy. Alive. And that makes the sacrifice worth it.

Deciding it might be better not to allow Rick the opportunity to probe you about your wellbeing, you continue.“I wasn’t expecting you to still be here. Lesson overrun?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, a long-suffering expression swiftly replacing his earlier joy. “Boomer tried to drown Blackguard. Repeatedly.”

You offer him a sympathetic smile. “And you stopped him because…?”

“We’re a little thin on the ground lately.” He gives you a pointed look. “And I could really do without the paperwork.”

“That’s a lame excuse, Flag. We both know I do all your paperwork.”

The lines around Rick’s eyes crease in amusement. “When did you say you were comin’ back?”

“I didn’t.”

The statement hangs in the air, and Rick’s smile falters. It’s only now that he seems to truly register your appearance; the swimming costume, the tightness to your jaw, the scar. In credit to the colonel, he doesn’t blanch. You know he’s seen much worse. Even so, you don’t fail to notice the briefest flicker of conflict passing over his handsome face.

After a beat, he seems to compose himself. "So, you here for a swim?"

You hum your confirmation, looking out across the pool. The water seems awfully inviting right now. Anything to avoid staring at Rick's glistening chest. Anything to hide from his concerned gaze. 

"You know there ain't a lifeguard on duty," he points out, folding his arms to match your stance.

"Think I can manage."

He shakes his head. “I’ll stick around for a bit.”

“That isn’t necessary.” You really don’t want him here for this. 

“Yeah,” he tells you, leaving no room for argument in his tone. “It is.”

Perhaps it’s just his damn hero complex, or maybe he sees beyond the charade - sees the spectre of pain that no amount of forced smiles and pleasantries can truly hide. Either way, you know you’ve lost. Rick Flag is an immovable object, and right now, he’s not budging from the pool.

Setting your frustration aside, the temperature of your blood seems to rise by several degrees as you watch him lower his large body down, stomach muscles bunching, until he’s sitting over the edge of the pool.

Your injured leg is now directly within Rick’s line of sight, and you try not to cringe. From a distance, it isn’t pretty. But up close? It’s more of a trainwreck. Your shattered kneecap, on top of multiple fractures to your femur and tibia, had required at least three operations and five metal pins to correct. 

Of course, it could have been much worse. Though at the time you were slipping in and out of consciousness, delirious with pain and blinded by the bright white lights of the ER, you can vividly remember the doctor’s words as she removed the makeshift splint and bandages. “You’re one hell of a lucky woman. Whoever made this brace probably saved your leg.”

That had been Rick. 

Not only had he ultimately saved your leg, but he’d also been waiting by your bedside when you came round from the initial surgery. Dosed up on morphine and drowsy from the anaesthetic, you don’t remember much of that first visit, but you do know that after such a disastrous mission, it was a miracle he was faring any better.

Fighting back the memory of that terrible time, you focus on the surface of the water, at the ripples pooling around Rick’s thick calves.

“They give you a trainin’ plan?" Your look of confusion prompts him to continue. “The doctors. Figured that’s why you’re here. Physical therapy?”

“Right.” You’re not particularly inclined to admit that you threw the ‘training’ plan out of the window, rejecting the doctor’s advice of rest and recuperation. You’re sick of sitting on your ass waiting for things to improve. There’s at least a dozen reasons why you need to get back to work, and the man in front of you may or may not be one of them.

Correctly reading your hesitation as doubt, Rick flashes you what he must imagine is an encouraging smile. "So, you gettin' in?"

"Uh, sure." Despite your calm facade, inside you're panicking. Because Rick has taken a seat at the deep end of the pool, and you know perfectly well that even if you managed to navigate the rickety metal steps by his side, there’s no way you’ll be able to keep your head above water for more than a few seconds. 

"I'm, umm… I'm just going to take it easy." You gesture towards the shallow end, and hoping Rick doesn’t read too much into your uneven gait, you begin a slow walk along the poolside. 

Your injury might be far from a secret, but the fear of Rick’s pity - or even worse, his guilt - means you don't want him to know just how bad it really is. Without your cane, the short walk takes every ounce of strength you possess, the pain slicing through your weak and damaged muscles with every step.

When you reach your destination, you notice that Rick hasn't followed. In fact, it seems he has returned to the supplies cupboard. While his back is turned, you use the opportunity to awkwardly lower yourself down to the ground. Your venture to the pool felt like a great idea at the time, but this would be so much easier if Rick wasn’t around to watch you fail. 

"I don't need those," you insist, when he starts to approach with an armful of foam floats.

After dropping the floats onto the ground, he takes a seat beside you. "When was the last time you swam?" There’s no evidence of humour or teasing in his voice, and it almost makes it worse. Especially as you realise he’s not expecting you to answer.

Studiously avoiding his scrutiny, you focus instead on the sunlight glittering off the water’s surface. Only when Rick softly murmurs your name do you finally force yourself to meet his eye. 

"Look, I can help, but you gotta be honest with me.” He levels you with a steady gaze. “None of this stoic, sufferin’ in silence bullishit. Alright?”

“You’re one to talk.” After all, Rick is the master of resilience; you’re just a quick study.

“Do as I say, not as I do, remember?” 

You pull a face, but ultimately allow him to continue. This banter between the two of you is a balm, and already you can feel the cracks starting to form in your armour. Perhaps having him around isn’t the worst thing in the world.

"Now, I'm gonna hazard a guess you ignored everythin' the doctors said, decidin' you know best as usual?" He arches his brow.

You respond with a weak smile and rub your leg idly. "I just need it to get better, and fast. Waller doesn't like broken things."

Rick angles his body towards you, his expression darkening. "You ain't broken. And even if that was true, who cares what she thinks."

"I have bills to pay, Rick. Rent. I can't afford not to work." Waller has already rejected your request for desk duty, informing you she needs soldiers, not paper-pushers. 

Rick grits his jaw. "Don't worry about the bills. If anythin’, let me worry about them. I can talk to Waller. You just focus on gettin’ better.”

"But-"

“No buts.” He cuts you off abruptly. “I need you back by my side. Can’t wrangle those fuckin’ idiots without you.”

Your resolve is rapidly weakening, and really, it’s no wonder. Rick is well versed in the art of persuasion. Time and again you’ve watched him convince teams of super-criminals to work together for the good of the US government. In your experience, that is no easy feat.

When he’s satisfied you’re not going to argue, Rick reaches behind and pulls across one of the larger floats. "I ain't exactly an expert, but when I was shot in Qurac I had a good few months of physio." He slaps the leg in question, drawing your attention to a pale, silvery stripe along the top of his thigh. "So, I'm sure we can figure somethin' out."

Before you can change your mind, Rick shifts so that he’s kneeling by your side. "Now, lay your leg down here on the float. Need to see what we're workin' with.”

Despite your lingering uncertainty, you do as he says, carefully manoeuvring your injured leg until it’s outstretched before him. The soft layer of the foam beneath you helps mitigate the slight discomfort of the angle.

"Tell me where it hurts, ok?” 

A swarm of butterflies erupts in your stomach the moment you feel Rick’s warm hands land on your skin, but you manage to nod stiffly. He starts to apply the slightest amount of pressure, his hands moving along the length of your leg with delicate precision. For the most part it's not painful, but when he reaches your knee you suck in a sharp breath.

"OK.” His hand disappears, and he sits back on his heels. “We're gonna take it slow. Let's see how you get on with walkin'. You got some swellin’, but the water should relieve the pressure.”

Recovering from the shock of his touch, it’s your turn to raise an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t an expert.”

With a surprising amount of grace for someone of his size, Rick slides into the water. “When you’ve been injured as many times as I have, you learn a thing or two about recovery.” 

It’s sound logic, you have to admit, and when he beckons for you to join him, you find yourself swinging your leg back towards the pool without hesitation. You don’t fight either, when his hands land on your hips, supporting your weight as you lower yourself into the water.

When he’s confident you’re steady on your feet, he removes his hands, but not before giving your waist a subtle, yet reassuring squeeze.

“Now what?” You look up at him expectantly.

Rick grins, a hint of mischief gleaming in his hazel eyes. "You know those canine hydrotherapy videos you and Harley love so much?”

“The dogs in those funny little tanks?"

“Exactly. Picture that. ‘Cept without the treadmills."

Spirits rising further with each passing minute, an unexpected laugh bursts from your lips, and you reach for Rick’s shoulder to steady yourself. “Ok, but you know the dogs usually get a treat afterwards, right? Some kind of motivation.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged." His lips curl into the suggestion of a smirk. "What did you have in mind?”

Perhaps you imagine it, but you could swear his gaze darkens as he waits for your response. “Just buy me a coffee when we get out of here.” 

You can’t quite shake the feeling that you could have asked for more. Indeed, for a split second, he appears disappointed by your request. Still, it’s too late to change your answer, because all of a sudden he's dipping below the surface of the water, only re-emerging when he's several feet away. 

When he breaks the surface, the urge to push his sopping hair back from his brow threatens to overwhelm you. Forget the coffee, maybe this is the kind of motivation you really need. The desire is short-lived, though. Before you can start to examine your feelings too closely, Rick proves himself perfectly capable of rearranging his hair all by himself.

“Start walkin’ towards me,” he calls across the pool, oblivious to your moment of insanity.

Gathering your wits, you bite back a sarcastic retort, choosing to refrain from commenting on how Harley has been right all this time. Rick is a bossy son-of-a-bitch. It’s just unusual for you to be on the receiving end of his commands. When it comes to Task Force X, the two of you work so well together you can usually predict each other’s moves ahead of time.

Just like how you predicted he would try to intercept that bomb.

What Rick couldn't predict that day, was you intercepting him first. 

Pushing the awful memories to the back of your thoughts once again, you set your mind to the task at hand: putting one foot in front of the other. Rick was right, the water does ease some of the pressure, but it doesn't completely relieve the pain.

From his position in the centre of the pool, Rick waits patiently. He's watching you with those keen hazel eyes shining bright with belief - belief in you. You can't help but feel it's misplaced. You've barely taken five steps and already your body is telling you to give up.

"While we're here, there's somethin' I wanna get off my chest." His voice, deep and clear, echoes across the otherwise empty pool. "Never properly got a chance to thank you. For savin' me."

"Can we not talk about this right now," you grunt, forcing yourself to take another step forward.

Rick's response is far from what you're expecting. "I think it's the perfect time to talk about it. But if you want me to stop, you're gonna have to get your ass over here and make me."

It seems an unfair ask. Even if you were capable of covering the distance to where he stands, you're not going to reach him quickly. Plenty of time for him to keep running his stupidly pretty mouth.

"I can't," you protest. 

But Rick simply shrugs. "I ain't gonna pretend that I wasn't pissed. That was a pretty fuckin' reckless move. And you're goddamn lucky that beam didn't fall a few inches higher."

You don't want to hear it. Doesn't he know how many times you've replayed the scenario? Wondering what you could have done differently. How you could possibly have gotten the both of you out of that building in one piece.

"You would have done the same for me." Gritting your teeth against the pain, you succeed in taking another two steps forward. 

"You're right. But that doesn't make it OK."

Irritation begins to set in. "You know, this wasn't the motivation I had in mind," you snap. "Coffee would have been just fine."

His lips quirk into a crooked smile. "Darlin', you can have whatever you want if you make it over here."

It takes far longer than you would like, but by some small miracle, you do reach him. Panting, and spluttering, the water is now up to your chin. You could swear he's been creeping backwards, but equally as exhausted as you are triumphant, you can't quite bring yourself to care. You've done it.

Rick is beaming. "That's my girl." And before you can start to wonder about the implication of his statement, he takes you by the waist, and lifts your head and shoulders clear of the surface. Instinct forces you to wrap your arms around his neck as he proceeds to wade back to the shallow end. Unlike your own journey, he covers the distance in less than a minute. 

"Knew you could do it," he tells you, setting you carefully back on the edge of the pool. "So name your price."

"Huh?" 

He's standing in the gap between your thighs, making it near enough impossible to form a single coherent thought.

"Your reward," he clarifies, with a sly grin. "Don't tell me that you're gonna settle for coffee."  

An unnamed force draws your attention to Rick’s mouth, where his tongue darts out, sweeping away a drop of water from his bottom lip. You're no stranger to taking risks. Pushing Rick out of the way of the bomb was a huge one, but this… this, might be the biggest risk you've taken yet.

"I don't want coffee." 

As emboldened as you are from completing the exercise, it's still with a shaking hand that you reach out and brush back the lock of hair that has fallen over Rick’s temple. 

Unfazed by the unexpected gesture, and the way your touch lingers a moment too long against his brow, Rick’s eyes are fixed on you. For once, no quickfire retort leaves his mouth. He simply waits on bated breath for you to continue.

You can have whatever you want.

It's no longer a question of what you want. That much has become clear. Your feelings for Rick have lain dormant for a while now, but they've always been there, waiting for something. A sign. A wake-up call. Maybe your last mission was just that.

Because unlike Rick, you're no hero. Saving his life wasn't an entirely unselfish act. You certainly wouldn't have done it for anyone else. Yet in that split second, just before Rick could reach the device, you didn't even have to think. 

Barreling into his path, you had managed to catch him unaware, the unexpected force of your body knocking him back into the stairwell. Slamming shut the heavy iron door, you had effectively removed him from the direct range of the explosion. Moments later, as you were thrown back by the blast, and the building started to collapse around you, you remember feeling nothing but relief. Rick would survive. Even if you wouldn’t.

And you'd do it all over again.

All of a sudden, you realise just how close Rick is standing. Close enough now, wedged between your legs, that you barely have to tilt your head before your lips are touching. He doesn’t pull away.

Your first kiss is soft and uncertain - a startling contrast to the solid, confident man before you. There’s a moment of hesitation, just a beat, where you withdraw from his lips to find him watching you wide-eyed. But his surprise rapidly fades, and there’s no fear, no judgement. In fact, he acts like it's the most natural thing in the world. Large, capable hands rise to cup your cheeks, and just like that, he’s pulling you back in for more.

Your own hands fly to his warm, slick chest. Rick’s tongue darts out again, this time sweeping across the seam of your lips, and deepening the kiss. He tastes like mint and chlorine from the pool, and as you finally get the chance to run your fingers through the silken lengths of his hair, you know without a trace of doubt, this is infinitely better than coffee.

You tell him so, after you've finally parted. 

Cheeks flushed, and a dazed smile spreading across his face, Rick hums his agreement, before adding, “Same time tomorrow?”

Joel Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @yespolkadotkitty @sociiallydiisoriiented @skvatnavle @phoenixhalliwell @mayhem24-7forever @weallhaveadestiny @lavenderluna10 @fairchildflag @ed-baldwin @s-u-t @katjnordstrom96 @kirsteng42 @bewitchedignition @immyownlittlebitch @heresathreebee

#rick flag #joel kinnaman #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #the suicide squad #tss 2021 #harley quinn #dceu fanfic #oneshot #colonel rick flag

[strangeshipper]

The Straw (final) The Suicide Squad : : Nanaue, Ratcatcher 2

So, you're trying to civilize your friend... ("Yes, Nanaue! Drinking coffee is more fun than eating your friends!") ...keep trying!

#black and white #fanart #nanaue #king shark #ratcatcher 2 #tss fanart #tss2021 #tss #tss 2021

[violetmuses]

Home, Sweet Home - Rick Flag

TITLE: Home, Sweet Home || Rick Flag 

FANDOM: “Suicide Squad” Film Universe

CHARACTER: Colonel Richard “Rick” Flag 

PAIRING: Rick Flag + Female Reader 

MAIN STORYLINE: When Rick finally comes back home from another stressful mission, all he wants is to see you smile again. 

Author’s Note: Hi! This quick drabble is dedicated to @lacontroller1991. We love you and thanks for everything. - V. 💜

"Parachute" Universe Masterlist 💛

Main Masterlist 💜

__________

2021 

You’re dancing in the bedroom alone while he stands in that door’s threshold. It isn’t long before he puts down his travel bag and crosses both arms, noticing you. 

“Partying without me? Where’s the cooler, darling?” He chuckles to himself as soon as you glance over one shoulder and gape. The biggest smile reaches your face. You then cut off the music, almost running towards him. 

As he embraces you for the first time in months, you’re short enough that your own face can only reach the middle of his clothed chest.

“Hey, Baby.” Smiling again, you look upward towards this beautiful man, hoping to notice those perfect hazel eyes once more. You’ve committed them to memory for the rest of your own life.  

“Missed you.” He clips his words and lifts you in the bridal-style way, no longer allowing your steps to even move along that bedroom’s carpeted floor. That Southern drawl first killed you. Not to mention that an old-time charm lined his manners, rare nowadays.  

“Missed you too.” You tell him right back. In an effort to keep holding him, you wrap both arms around his neck and lean inward, guiding his lips straight towards your own. 

He’s home. Safe and sound. You think to yourself. 

#fluff #rick flag #colonel flag #colonel rick flag #rick flag x female reader #rick flag x you #rick flag x reader #drabble #drabbles #rick flag x reader #reader insert #female reader insert #dc movies #movies #joel kinnaman fanfiction #joel kinnaman #2021 the suicide squad #tss 2021 #quick drabble

[pullohunajaa]

I just finished the suicide squad 2

You resurrect polka boy or I swear to god I’m gonna be very upset

#tss 2021 #the suicide squad

[lilst4ri]

Watching Giggs Phasmo, Roleslaying with Roman (and rewatching), TMF and Tangled the Series :PP

#lil stari posts #merry #regression selfie #tangled the series #rapunzels tangled adventure #variannnnn my fav boyyyy #tmf #the music freaks #gacha #gacha kid #it’s weird thinking gacha’s still going #kawaiimarea #context: I was a 2016/17-2021 gacha kid #roleslaying with roman #tss #giggs phasmo #Grian

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

I haven't read it yet but here's my announcement my friend sent me screenshots of the new titans beast worlds where Peacemaker calls Nightwing pretty. I was right about how they're gonna write him being bi exclusively as him flirting with other men in a slightly boundary breaking way like how Deadpool was written for like 20 years. Dont fucking text.

#This was because I made all those posts about how Peacemaker should meet Nightwing. #Monkey Paws finger curled. im sorry guys. its doom patrol all over again. #Ok no like I do think Id be fine with it if it wasnt fucking NIGHTWING #Like any other character but DC is so obsessed with everyone treating Nightwing like this so #It just always makes me uncomfortable. #Also from the screenshots my friend sent does seem like this #is another mediocre but ok Peacemaker appearance. lke he seems fine #aside from he still doesnt rememner his arc from Suicide Squad 2021/Ram V swamp thing #So hes still Amandas henchman. but whatever. #you guys know I like him henching its just like #Still very noticeable hes only in this stuff because its a mandate at DC rifht now to #push Peacemaker. so its still a steep drop in #quality compared to his pre-TSS induced revival #where he was only being pushed by stans like #Kupperberg Giffen and Gunn #Ok anyway my point is i havent read the issue yet. dont hace hopes yhough. but its probably #not like horrible im just annoted with this shit. ok bye. #yeah sorry about the typos im in he bathroom at work BYEEE

[sweettoothselfships]

i have a well developed s/i for batman (1966) but no ideas for an s/i for my platonic ship with suicide squad 2021 p.olka dot m.an and it literally never occurred to me until just now that they’re the same verse (dc)

#i can just use! the same guy! but change him! #imagining trying to change the vibes from batman 66 to tss 2021 is very funny to me #personal

[reveluving]

I have another ideaaaa 👀 I imagine Santi and Benny being very flamboyant when it comes to showing their admiration for someone. Imagine Rick bringing lunch to reader’s unexpectedly just to see Santi bringing her flowers and Benny giving her the heart eyes. My poor flag baby might have a stroke just from the scene in front of hiiimmm!!

a/n: Aria, baby. it’s been a long ass time ✋🏼😔 BUT THE FIXATION IS BACK (kinda. largely because I’ve been reading fics after fics of Oscar & Pedro chars. RAAAAAH). so we’re here baby, after 1 ½? 2 years later???? ENJOY

warnings: humour & fluff; poor Rick just wants to love you in peace.

j.k. m.list (series under 'rick flag vs the triple frontier boys'), or check out my full m.list!

Oh, you know Rick’s eyes are TWITCHING. The paper bag in his hand, packed with lunch from your favourite stop, crumpling in his grasp, almost tearing at the top. Not the food though, he’s not trying to ruin his wife’s favourite. 

But he’s chill. Absolutely chill. He swears. 

Benny and Santi just had to stop by the same time he came home from work, both leaning against the white porch railing while you sat prettily on the bench. 

Benny was expressive in whatever he was talking about, likely his last boxing match from the way he was holding the air in a headlock before the three of you shared a laugh. As much of a troublemaker they were, they were your friends, after all. He’d chase them off his property or warn them with a glare any day if it meant cutting off any form of ‘allegiances’ with that horrible past, both yours and his.

Just when you were about to reply to God knows what they asked, you noticed Rick lingering by the mailbox. Your eyes lit up, and it didn’t take the duo any other hints to know that he was home.

“Rick!” You enthusiastically waved at your husband, beckoning him to sit on the bench next to you. Rick couldn’t help but smile back at you, walking over and ignoring the two until he reached the top step of the stairs.

“Boys.” He greeted them, going over to shake Santiago’s hand before Benny’s, flexing his hands as they shook to see if the other would break. None did, as usual, pulling away and somewhat putting the tension on hold in favour of you. Rick took a seat next to you, passing you the bag of food and a soft ‘there y’go, baby’ (but not really, he made sure the two would hear it). 

It took a few seconds, making sure he greeted you with a kiss before stretching his arm to lay on the backrest behind you.

“So, what’s the occasion?”

“The boys just came over to say hi. Gave me these flowers from the flower shop nearby,” You raised the calla lilies that were resting on your lap. Now, Rick was no flower specialist, but he has been to the shop countless times to buy you your own fix. 

And if he remembered correctly, they generally represented beauty.

Well played.

“And Santi was just telling me about this new Cuban restaurant just outside the neighbourhood.” You continued, turning to Santiago with an encouraging smile so he could tell Rick about it.

“Cuban restaurant, huh?” 

Santiago curtly nodded to his curiosity. 

“The best. Might even be your new favourite once you both try it.” He explained, only to glance at the paper bag Rick was holding—a look that was almost… Judgemental? Critical? All of the above? All Rick knew that the man before him was silently scoffing at his choice. 

And, well, Santi wouldn’t exactly deny that claim, either. 

Rick didn’t hide the scoff, only to pair it with a faux smile so you could take it as nothing more than a harmless banter, “Gotta be real good then. ‘Cause this here,” He cocked his head in the paper bag’s direction, “Is my wife’s favourite place. Our favourite place.”

Rick not only had to watch out for the bold claim Santi was making, but he also had to bear in mind the sight of Benny openly looking at you like a lovestruck puppy. The promising boxer didn’t even care about the passive-aggressive argument going on around him. He was just appreciating the beaut in front of him.

(Man’s just doesn’t give a shit atm).

“Hey, I’m not here to burst your bubble,” Santi huffed in amusement, raising his hands in a defensive way, “But I’m not trying to give the pretty girl any mediocre recommendations either. C’mon Flag, you, of all people, should know that we want the best for her.”

“Aw, Santi, you’re too kind.” You were touched and it showed, and Rick couldn’t argue with the statement. Without a doubt, he wants what was best for you, be it food, comfortable clothes, gourmet treats for the fucking neighbourhood cat you adore—anything. 

In the midst of their silent argument, you reached for Rick’s hand, holding his larger ones in between yours, “I’m sure Rick and I will enjoy it,” He mirrored the warm smile as you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, only to break when you addressed the two, “And if it’s as good as you said it is, we might as well have a get together.”

Oh. 

You were growing concerned of the two’s silence, eyes darting back and forth and almost—almost asking what was wrong until Benny, as if snapped out of his trance, finally, spoke up. 

“Absolutely.” Benny raised his hand in a manner that a believer would in church. 

Abso-fucking-lutely.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

#— reve's reverie 🌹 #— reve's asks 🌹 #rick flag x reader #rick flag x f!reader #rick flag x female reader #rick flag x reader fluff #rick flag x you #joel kinnaman #joel kinnaman x reader #tss 2021 #benny miller x reader #benny miller x f!reader #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x you #benny miller #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia x female reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier x you #rick flag vs the triple frontier boys

[purplelurkinghini]

Mom!

Mom, I made it!

#And it sure is lonely at the top #Cornelius Stirk #The Harvester #Batman Unburied #me: *scrolling through my own posts again* #me: *comes across this in the middle of the tag* #me: I'd like to thank the Academy- #Honestly #this is even funnier than the time #back in 2020 #and 2021 I'm pretty sure #when I was the top Edward Nashton blog #That was before #h-he left me #for greener pastures #*DA DUM TSS*

[krillposting]

I went for a walk and had an idea for the most unhinged Suicide Squad AU ever, and I'm mad because it's actually something that would require time and even research to write but do I have time for that???

#tss 2021

[loverhymeswith]

May I request "asking your not yet lover to stay the night because you don't want to be alone" with Rick please?

Say You'll Stay | Rick Flag x Reader

Summary: Rick isn't himself after returning from a mission

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,043 words

As usual, you track Rick down to the medical bay. The prisoners – or at least those left standing – are safely back in their cells and have been for some time now. Their leader, on the other hand, has spent the last hour being patched up after yet another mission went sideways.

“Is it true?”

At the sound of your voice, Rick raises his head and finds you leaning against the doorway. A pair of soft hazel eyes meet yours across the room, but that familiar spark is nowhere to be seen.

Your gaze travels over his body, silently cataloguing a host of new injuries amongst the fading scars. His tanned chest is a latticework of cuts and scratches and a thin film of sweat and dirt coats his skin.

“Word travels fast, huh?” The ghost of a strained smile forms on his drawn but handsome face as he tries to stand up. “Thought you clocked off at five? Don’t tell me you been waitin’ all this time?”  

“No,” you lie, pushing off the wall to offer him your hand. “I had to fill in some paperwork for Waller. God forbid her reports are turned in late.”

There’s nothing in Rick’s expression to suggest he doesn’t believe you as you help haul all 230 lbs of his weight onto his feet. He doesn’t need to know that despite your shift finishing a while ago, you’ve been anxiously awaiting the squad’s return. He certainly doesn’t need to know that since their return, you’ve been lurking outside this room, impatient for the doctors to finish up with him.

There’s about a dozen reasons why you wanted – needed – to see him. By now, you’re sure he’s noticed a pattern, noticed that no matter what time of day his plane lands, you find some excuse to be around. The reality is, Waller doesn’t give a shit about your reports. She'll cast her judgemental gaze over the files for a whole fifteen seconds before dismissing you from her sight.

Tonight, it’s different. Not least because you have to hear the words from his own mouth before you can truly believe it. Rick Flag is finally leaving ARGUS.

Once you’re satisfied that he’s not going to collapse, you drop his hand and take a step back. “So, you’re really doing this? You’re really quitting.”

Rick cocks his brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you cared.”

You huff out a laugh. He has no idea. “Who else am I going to torment with my bad coffee and poor musical choices?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, but he doesn’t reply. Now that he’s standing, your attention returns to his physical condition and the patchwork of injuries decorating his body. There’s a particularly nasty puncture wound above his right hip that has been hastily stitched together, and you can tell he’s favouring his left leg. All in all, the Colonel is in pretty bad shape.

Breaking the silence that has descended over the small treatment room, you slip your car keys from your back pocket and jingle them slightly, before affecting a casual tone. “You want a ride?”

“My car’s in the lot.”

“I wasn’t asking about your car.”

His expression shifts, any attempt at masculine bravado fading as he scrubs a hand over his jaw and responds quietly. “Don’t wanna be any trouble.”

“Bit late for that,” you tease.

Again, he attempts to smile, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Your stomach somersaults. You’d expected him to argue, to insist that he’s fine. He’s never been one for accepting help, content to struggle in silence if it means saving face. But tonight, it seems like the fight has left him.

“Sure you don’t mind?”

Careful to keep the worry from your face, you pick up his kit bag and toss a clean shirt in his direction. Whatever he was wearing before has ended up in a bloody pile on the floor. “Not as long as you put some clothes on.”

Other than offering you directions, Rick is quiet during the car ride home. It seems any trace of the old Rick has been left behind at Belle Reve. He’s never been a man of many words, but your tentative questions about the mission are met by grunts and shrugs as you navigate your way to his apartment on the outskirts of town.

You want to shake him. You want to know what really went down on that small island. What happened to turn your friend into this shadow of his former self?

When you pull into his parking space, Rick makes no move to get out. Coming round to his side of the car, you open his door and help him out, shouldering his weight until he’s steady on his feet again.

Continuing your stream of consciousness, despite receiving little to no input from Rick, you walk him all the way to his front door. He doesn’t comment when you follow him over the threshold.

The apartment is dark, illuminated only by the watery moonlight spilling through the kitchen window. With his back to you, Rick dumps his bag on the sofa and stands in the middle of the room, staring off into the distance.

Fighting the urge to go to him, you hang back by the door. “You gonna be ok, Rick?”

He grunts again, a non-answer. Instinct is screaming at you not to leave him, but it feels wrong to intrude on his grief – if that’s what this is. Imposing your presence won’t help anyone if he wants to be alone.

Trying one last time, you call across the room. “You know you can talk to me, right?"

Without turning around, he nods.

Your shoulders slump, defeated. “Ok, well I’m going to head home now. Call me if you need anything.”

The door is halfway open before you hear him softly call your name, halting you dead in your tracks. With your fingers still gripping the handle you glance over your shoulder and find him finally facing you. Despite the distance, you can see that his eyes are limned with silver, sparkling in the pale moonlight.

“Rick?”

He utters a single word in response, his voice so deep and raw that you almost miss it.

“Stay.”

Joel Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @skvatnavle @sociiallydiisoriiented @yespolkadotkitty @heresathreebee @edwardbaldwin @fairchildflag @mayhem24-7forever @bewitchedignition @phoenixhalliwell @immyownlittlebitch @weallhaveadestiny @lavenderluna10 @kirsteng42 @katjnordstrom96 @s-u-t

#rick flag #joel kinnaman #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #the suicide squad #rick flag fanfiction #dceu fanfic #tss 2021

[strangeshipper]

The Straw The Suicide Squad : : Nanaue, Ratcatcher 2

So, you're trying to civilize your friend... - Yes, Nanaue! Drinking coffee is more fun than eating your friends! ...keep trying!

#nanaue #king shark #tss #tss 2021 #ratcatcher 2 #fanart

[violetmuses]

Best Of All - Rick Flag

TITLE: “Best Of All” || Rick Flag 

FANDOM: “Suicide Squad” Film Universe

CHARACTER: Colonel Richard “Rick” Flag 

PAIRING: Rick Flag + Female Reader 

MAIN STORYLINE: No matter what, Rick will always love you. 

Author’s Note: Hey, ya’ll! I’m back for now and this short drabble is dedicated to @lacontroller1991. Happy Birthday, Sweetheart! We love you so much. Stay safe and have fun. - V. 💜

Main Masterlist 💜

J Krew: @nerdysuperchick @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @shadowkittybucky @loverhymeswith @justin-hammers @weallhaveadestiny @xoxabs88xox @katjnordstrom96  @skvatnavle @sociiallydiisoriiented @heresathreebee @alieninoklahoma @bewitchedignition @maddu-oliveira @reveluving @pirategamora @hodgepodge-of-rog @ijustthinkrickflagisprettyneat @11thstreetvigilante

__________

2021

It’s nearly freezing outside one morning. You struggle to warm up underneath the covers. You don’t want to wake up Rick, who usually sleeps beside you every time. 

And yet, you feel around the bed and find yourself alone, puzzled because Rick never leaves this place without telling you first. 

Not long after you sit up against the pillows, sizzling reaches your eardrums. 

Breakfast. Your heart settles down because he’s only cooking breakfast. There’s no need to panic. 

You carefully move from these covers and pad your feet to leave this bedroom, hiding past one slight corner to see him in the kitchen. 

He’s shirtless. Both tattoo ink and faded harsh scars run up or down his muscular arms.

 You subconsciously bite your lip, watching his back slightly flex. Rick Flag always concentrates while cooking, rivaling an attention span on the battlefield. 

He’s finally able to turn down the stovetop and glance over one shoulder. The view of him takes your breath away. 

That blondish hair almost covers his forehead and he smiles towards you, showing off these pretty hazel eyes. It’s so unfair to you. 

“Good morning. Happy birthday, Darlin.’” Rick says, winking towards you before plating the meal twice and pouring coffee for himself. 

“Thank you, Handsome.” You kiss his lips right before sitting down at the kitchen table, forever grateful to still have him around. 

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