nopelleen

[nopelleen]

deadly nightshade.

CHAPTER 2: Unwanted bonding time

Rick Flag x Spy!reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, the Batfamily and a lizard.

Summary: Your first big mistake: trading the KGB for ARGUS

A/n: Hope I didn't keep you guys waiting. Likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated. Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

It was a normal day, as long as you ignore the fact that it wasn't. Your patience was running thin, as thin as the greying hair of your sweet elderly neighbour, who you hated lying to about being a Prima Ballerina on a daily basis. You wish you could slam the door of the refrigerator of the office kitchen shut and hear the satisfying rattle of the glass bottles inside. But instead, you tried to keep your temper under wraps, slightly pursing your lips as you exhale through your nose.

The slice of cake you bought was gone, and you had really looked forward to eating it. But one of your colleagues decided it was a great idea to eat something which was clearly not meant to be theirs. What a fantastic day to play real-life Cluedo with immature grown-up adults, you thought.

You let out a satisfying sigh as you leant into the leather of your chair, watching as Florence Crawley poured the freshly brewed coffee in Flag's small mug. A small smile adorned your lips, and you thanked her warmly as she offered you some. It would have looked suspicious if you refused. Flag kept his sturdy eyes trained on the file in front of him while his hand moved to bring the mug to his lips.

He coughed harshly as soon as he swallowed. Grimacing, he glanced at Florence, who stopped in her tracks to watch him perplexed. Flag's eyebrows furrowed, and the man gulped down half of his water before blurting out.

"Jesus, who put salt in the coffee? That shit's salty," Rick took his baseball hat off, wiping the sweat lining his brows before brushing his hair back. Looking expectantly at Florence, he sighed before catching the eyes of John, who only shrugged in response. You looked sympathetically at Flo, whose eyes remained firmly trained on the coffee pot. She cleared her throat, draining the coffee in the sink as she refused to glance at the Colonel in embarrassment. It served her right if she had been the one to eat your damn chocolate cake.

Free weeks between missions were usually for drafting dozens of reports for Waller and nothing else, well aside from healing to your peak strength for the next Task Force X mission. It didn't take a genius to figure out why Waller would purposely arrange useless meetings for you and Flag to attend as if the overwhelming tension between you two wasn't enough. She deliberately wanted you to suffer, and if there was one thing she didn't know about you, it was the fact that you would gladly sit down and listen to her go on with her nonsense if it meant you were indirectly asserting your power.

The chatter rapidly eased as the night fell, and the room plunged into an accustomed silence. A ting alerted you, and you subtly glanced around before letting the encrypted message in your desktop screen sink into your mind. Ignoring the warm wave that went through your body, your spine straightened before you pressed a few keys, the random symbols and signs turning into a disarray of alphabets.

Evqmjdbujpo dpnqmfuf. Joufm't tbgf. -OX

Duplication's complete. Intel's safe. -NW

You forced yourself to stay focused, but even the slightest movement at the corner of your eyes would ignite your stomach on fire. The shuffling of Flag's windbreaker against his chair was making you cringe, but as much as you would have loved to glare at him, your eyes remained on the screen, with your fingers swiftly typing in a furious sentence others would only deem random letters.

Gvdljoh Jejpu. Zpv dpvme ibwf dbmmfe nf.

The key to decrypting the sentences was simple. One alphabet off, so G became F, and V became U. But it was still a pain in the ass to translate for anyone who didn't have the alphabets burned into the back of their skull. You spent half an hour deleting any traces of the previous interaction before logging off and shutting it down. The risks NW took were unmatched but remarkably unnecessary, and if you could put it in words, it was like dangling a raw chicken in front of a Florida alligator. The alligator being an obvious metaphor to your lovely hard-headed boss. You could already hear his response to your encrypted message,

But where was the fun in that?

He was unquestionably going to get a piece of your mind the next time you were seeing him. As if you didn't almost die for the sake of those reports. You removed your blue light glasses as your eyes stung, and it didn't help any better when you caught Flag's wary lingering gaze.

Walking across the compound to the aircraft should not feel this good, but it did. Something about going on missions made you feel fresh and exuberant. Maybe it was the fact that there was not going to be a single person who would be sorrowful if you did not come back in one piece, or worst if you did not come back at all.

Well, you hoped that was only partly true. Surely, Stan would miss you, wouldn't he? You usually prided yourself on having a lot of self-control. But you knew you were not thinking straight when you brought that lizard out of that pet shop, knowing you would be away for the majority of your time. Hopefully, that little gremlin in Gotham was taking good care of him.

The team was a mess, and the pounding headache at the back of your skull was probably an early sign of a doomed mission. You were undeniably one for prison reform, but looking at the humanoid weasel who killed 27 children made you question your own opinion. What good could he possibly do?

Flag visibly let out a sigh at the absence of the customary female member of his team before she burst into the aircraft, gasping and running down the fuselage. Her duffel bag swung to her sides as she hopped over the several sprawled legs, her pigtails bouncing with character. Harley let out an unsuspecting squeal before lunging herself onto the woman dressed in the tac uniform similar to his. Rick kept his eyes on them for a few seconds before breaking away and subtly nodding at Briscoe for the take-off.

"Cookiecutter!" Harley exclaimed, tightening her arms around your torso. You nodded your head slightly, bringing your left hand to her lower back to pat her awkwardly.

"Harleen," You replied quietly, hoping she would let you go once you greeted her back. As much as you hated the nickname or nicknames in general, Harley has been nothing but pleasant to you, and well, it was impossible not to grow to care for her.

If someone had told you to take a bullet for your commanding officer a few months ago, you would have done it in a heartbeat. But people change, and so do you. Trying to empty your thoughts were useless as you stood barely a few metres away from him -eyes deliberately seeking the comfort of the red glow that somehow enhanced the softness of his cheekbones. Sometimes you wished you could have fed him to the venus flytrap on your desk.

Rick should have known the innocent exchange of words would somehow turn into a petty argument the minute he opened his mouth. He doesn't even remember the point of the debate, but the fierceness in your eyes was like fuel to his ego. Rick grinded his teeth. He knows he should stop, but the endless string of annoyance keep wrapping around his existence, engulfing him in a cocoon. His dentist advised him to quit damaging the crowns of his teeth, and Rick had half a mind to send you the bills. He turned his head away from you, his hands on his hips as he closed his eyes and exhaled in an attempt to calm down. The man froze as soon as he opened his eyes, surprised by the multiple gazes that stayed exclusively on his form. He gulped, redirecting his gaze to your cold glaring eyes as he silently tried to dismiss the argument. He felt like one half of a couple on the brink of divorce being caught red-handed in a heated dispute by his children.

You didn't seem to notice as you opened your mouth once again, "You know sometimes I wonder why they don't call you Dick instead," The plane turned silent, and the booming laugh in your comms caused you to look away as you bit the inside of your cheek to avoid the sides of your lips from turning upwards.

"Someone call the fire rescue. Flag just got burnt," John cracked out, bringing his hand up to stifle his mouth as he realised the communication channel was still open. His throat suddenly felt dry, and he smacked his lips a few times, clearing his throat before announcing the arrival of the plane at the drop area.

You silently hoped that the cold salty water would help ease Flag's fury as he dropped out of the plane and into the open ocean. The silent treatment and the harsh glare he gave you was not as threatening as you thought it would be, but they did rub you the wrong way. You pursed your lips. You did ask for it the moment you insulted him in front of your teammates.

If there was one thing you learnt during all of your years as a spy, it was that hiding or running away from danger was the equivalent of giving up. The irony in that statement was astounding as you hid behind a pile of rocks, grasping your bleeding forearm, thankful that the bullet only grazed the surface of your skin and the material of your tac jacket. Harley breathed heavily, her fingers tightly wrapped around her pistol as hundreds of hot bullets whizzed past your heads. Either of you would have guessed Blackguard would have been stupid enough to contact the Corto Maltese Army and trust them not to blow his face off, which was the first thing they did once you stepped foot onto the beach. That guy had the ostrich sized brain, and you were sure he would have lost in a fight against a squirrel.

The space between you and Harley was soon occupied by Flag as he slid next to you, his boots propelling sand everywhere. You frowned, keeping your back as close as possible to the cold surface of the rock while you roughly brushed the tiny itchy grains of sand from your wet hair. There was a certain level of chaos you were used to, and this battlefield was no different from the prison riots at Belle Reve. Metahumans were the cause of the most destructive phenomenons in the correctional centre found in the middle of the Louisiana swamps, and it didn't surprise you to see them cuffed and collared with heavy power dampeners to keep them under check. That's probably the reason why you could only stare at the two detached flying arms smacking the soldiers around.

You turned to look at Harley, only to be bashed with an overwhelming feeling at her absence. The dread was beginning to hammer the hairline fraction on your controlled demeanour as you felt the prickling heat on your neck. Your chest tightened, and all you could do was lash out at Flag for not stopping Harley from possibly getting killed as she ran off headfirst into the looming danger.

He only stared at you, baffled at your harsh words. Rick hadn't always been the recipient of your anger. You were a pretty passive-aggressive person most of the time. At least, you were unless something extraordinarily annoyed you. Hell, he wasn't sure he had ever gotten a smile out of you. All you ever seem to be doing is have that unimpressed monotone look on your face as if it was a crime to crack a smile once in a while.

He had first met you in Waller's office, where the woman promptly proceeded to tell him about his failed covert missions and how he had managed to fuck them all up by announcing everyone of their presence. In his defence, leading a group of criminals with bombs in their necks wasn't as easy as it sounded. They were like a herd of cats doing whatever the hell they wanted. He had glanced at you, swallowing the urge to snort. What could a woman in a pencil skirt do to stop that?

Rick was somewhat surprised and impressed the second time he had seen you. Prison guards had no mercy on anyone except their superiors, and who would have guessed that a newly employed innocent-looking woman would throw a very mean right hook. That man was bleeding buckets after he had catcalled you, and Amanda Waller barely flinched before continuing on with her tour of the headquarters. The fact that you carried on with the day with your blood-stained blouse did get an eyebrow raise out of him, and it wasn't until much later that it all made sense.

"Harley is a grown-ass woman! She knows what she's doing!" He yelled at you through the turmoil. The burning debris of the helicopter went flying everywhere, and it wasn't easy for you to come to terms with the death of several of your teammates as the flames raged on. You swallowed, staring blankly at the dark horizon before squinting your eyes at the blond head reaching for the cool water.

"Is that Savant? He's going to get his head blown off if he reaches too far," You said, sending a knowing look at Flag, who discreetly glanced behind his shoulder before standing up. You furrowed your eyebrows, reaching for this tactical vest to yank him down again.

"Are you trying to get shot, Flag? Do you have a fucking death wish?" You whispered aggressively before processing the fact that he had unknowingly grabbed your injured forearm to hoist you up. You swallowed a painful hiss, scrambling after him as you dodged several bullets. Flag had the surface area of a microvillus, and you couldn't say you were surprised when he caught two bullets in your pursuit to the edge of the woods.

All you could do was hold on to the back of his vest and push him along when he slowed down each time he was shot, and if you had a nickel for every time that occurred, you would have two, which wasn't a lot.

Despite the destruction, the fire helped by distracting the Corto Maltese Amry Soldiers, and you were glad you and Flag managed to sneak right under their noses. The trees stood tall, and the leaves did nothing except engulf the surrounding of unusual darkness. You could barely see where you were putting your feet, and the thorn edged branches kept having a go at your limbs. The scratches stung, but you knew better than to stop as Flag raced through the woods, his blood dripping on the soil. He had already discarded his tac vest a few minutes ago, and seeing him dispose of his rifle now that you were deeper in the woods made your mouth twist.

"Flag, you're leaving a trail. As if your blood wasn't enough," You said through your clenched teeth. That man was going to lead you right through your deaths. He turned, the grim on his face illuminated by the scarce moonlight. A huff left his lips, and before he could even speak, a shuffle kept you both on your toes. His eyes hardened, and Rick moved to grab your shoulders, backing you up against a tree in an attempt to conceal your presence in the shadows. You pursed your lips, silently watching over his broad shoulder.

"Is that a fucking hand?" You whispered, your voice barely steady as the fatigue and the horror settled. Rick turned, tightening his grip before he answered in his southern drawl,

"Shit, that's TDK's gauntlet," The wild dog was huge, with patchy fur all over his body. The blood dripping from his jaw was a sight straight from a horror movie. You turned your face around, having no desire to watch your dismembered former teammate get eaten by a wild animal. The guilt, fear and disappointment you felt was no stranger to you. Rick stepped away, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled.

"You should tell Waller. I lost my earpiece back there," He said, staring impatiently. You froze from your spot against the bark of the tree.

"Right," You answered, your shoulders tense as your mind blanked out. Rick held his arms up, his features contorting with annoyance.

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?" He frowned, his jaw tightening. You stood up as he came closer.

"I lost it when I jumped out of the plane, okay?!" Rising your voice was not the best idea, but it was better than looking like a scared lamb as he threw daggers at your head. He had never wished for your death so much before.

Walking through the woods peacefully was never an option, but the least you could do to avoid bickering was to remain in utter silence.

Tag list: @potato-doing-her-best @xoxabs88xox @cursedtobe @lov3vivian

[nopelleen]

Perish, Pretty Please (5/5)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Rick Flag was known to be a pretty good leader, it was the reason why he had been chosen to lead a squad of infamously reckless and idiotic criminals, however it was a lot harder to maintain his authority when one member of the team despised his guts for seemingly no reason.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Rick Flag x Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.7k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: it took me so long, but it’s finally there -- the last part! I started this fanfiction knowing I had a tendency not to finish them and I’m honestly so proud right now, I hope you’ll enjoy this last part as much as I enjoyed writing all of this! (also please let’s all have a moment of silence to remember the moment my hopeful, foolish ass actually posted the first part with “1/2″ in the title)

“Nope, there’s something we gotta take care of first."

You watched with blatant bafflement as the three men nonchalantly walked away from the blazing truck that had been transporting them merely minutes ago. There was almost a bit of disappointment in your heart as you watched the plan you and Cleo had so meticulously orchestrated on your way here vanish into thin air. It was a shame – your rescue plan involved a lot more wow factor. Had you known the outcome of this small drawback, you wouldn’t have put so much effort into it; but how could you have guessed the three of them would find a way out of a van guarded by multiples soldiers all the while handcuffed and therefore supposedly incapacitated? That was absurd.

“Don’t look so surprised, it’s insulting.”

You shot Flag a tight lipped, mocking smile as a response to his friendly jab, clearly recognizing the words you had used against him in the afternoon. Your sardonic grimace poorly mirrored the playful smirk the colonel adorned as he walked towards the van, and you were surprised to feel your heart swell a bit when you noticed his smile spread into a genuine one as he walked past you, slightly shaking his head in amusement.

Without even questioning how they had gotten themselves out of that prickly situation, you whirled around and followed suit as Rick climbed back into the van, telling Milton the small change of plan. That one enthusiastically nodded before happily informing the squad that you’d reach the city by dawn, making you realize you had spent a good chunk of the night at that bar and yet did not feel that tired yet – which might just have been from the adrenaline released into your system at the sight of your three teammates walking out of a blazing vehicle.

“You sleep, I watch Thinker,” Nanaue suggested as he heavily lumbered towards the back of the van, where the hostage was surprisingly staying very still, wise enough not to attempt anything while sharing the same space as King Shark.

Your steps faltered as you entered the van, your gaze hesitatingly flickering towards the seats in the back which appeared way too crowded for your liking. You usually would’ve simply gone back to your seat at the front, but Rick was now occupying the one near the window, probably as a way to stay close to the driver.

With a reluctant sigh, you were about to follow King Shark towards the back when Rick casted a pointed look towards you before patting the seat beside him in case you did not understand.

Relief washed over you and you didn’t even need to give it a second thought before flopping onto the space beside him, glad not to have to settle for a spot anywhere near Peacemaker. Your muscles were stiff as you quite literally bounced onto the cushion, and as soon as your back did as much as graze the backrest, the entire day of walk, hours of dancing and minutes of worrying about Flag’s well-being caught up with you with a dizzying speed.

If earlier that day you had been able to fight off sleep vigorously, you now found yourself melting into the cushion of your seat as soon as you flopped onto it. At first, you remained steadfast, refusing to yield to your basic human needs as you forced yourself to sit up straight, but then there was a strong gravitational pull making you sway a bit on your seat as your head started lolling forward, and then another pull – Rick’s hand, this time – gently steering you back into your seat. Incapable of fending off the drowsiness any longer, you surrendered and finally allowed yourself to loosen up, feeling your head snugly land upon Rick’s shoulder as you drifted off into a soundless sleep.

-----

“Outburst, hey!”

“She’s sleeping.”

From his seat at the very back of the van, Peacemaker frowned as he craned his neck in an attempt to peer at your figure still slumped over Rick’s shoulder. “Well, wake her up,” he groused, tinges of annoyance seeping from his usually polished tone. “She’s… spewing her emotions all over the place. It’s reeking of sadness in there.”

◦◦◦

“It’s reeking in there; crack a window open, will you?”

Your finger harshly jabbed the switch, your gaze remained firmly fixed on the buildings passing by in a blur as the window lowered just a bit in an abrupt, choppy motion. From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of your mother shooting you a brief, curious look. You hadn’t uttered a word ever since you two had left the family reunion. You knew it hadn’t been a good idea to agree to come.

The car then lapsed into another uncomfortable silence. You were both acutely aware of the thick, sweltering acrimony flooding off of you and yet still refused to address it, instead letting you bask in it with your mouth clamped shut, letting it gnaw your insides until your lungs felt charred, incapable of drawing oxygen any longer.

Why had you agreed to this? You were an adult; you didn’t need to expose yourself to this anymore.

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to breathe in deeply, only for your chest to constrict, becoming painfully hollow. Tears started brimming at the edges of your vision and you finally allowed your lips to part, letting a bated breath stumble out of them with urgency.

“I heard you earlier.”

◦◦◦

“I’m not waking her up,” Rick scowled in one curt sentence, already feeling a bit on edge and therefore not wanting to dwell on the matter.

Peacemaker’s eyebrows furrowed even deeper at Rick’s unwavering tone. He usually dealt easily with negotiation and compromises, he worked well under authority and was a suitable soldier because of it, but at the moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to be patient – maybe because of how thick with tension the atmosphere had become because of you.

“We can feel her,” he insisted again, spitting the words out in an irritated hiss.

◦◦◦

“Honey, I can feel you, tone it down,” your mother complained as she kept her eyes on the road. Either your words went completely over her head, or she refused to acknowledge them, knowing that with the amount of resentment she could feel rolling off of you in waves, there was no way a discussion could lead to a good outcome at the moment. She was already having a hard time not letting the irritation get to her in spite of the smoldering atmosphere.

“I heard you talking to aunt Matty,” you reiterated. “You said it was my fault.”

“What was?”

“Dad leaving.”

The uttered words dropped like thunder in the car, leaving the air charged with electricity.

“I didn’t say that,” she rebutted with a bit of an acerbic tone. The tension was starting to get to her, slowly but steadily eating away at her mind in spite of her resolve. She could feel the resentment seeping into her like a foreign body infiltrating her immune system, but paradoxically, the angrier she got, the less willing she was to fight it off. “Don’t twist my words, you know I hate when you do that.”

◦◦◦

“I didn’t say she wasn’t allowed to sleep,” Peacemaker clarified, starting to sound a bit agitated as the tensed atmosphere got more and more on his nerves. “I’m simply saying she shouldn’t until we are.”

“She’s not hurting anyone.”

◦◦◦

“You said I was hurting him.”

“I said he was often on the wrong end of your temper. Listen, it’s—”

“Back off!”

◦◦◦

“Back off,” Rick sternly admonished him as soon as Peacemaker made a step towards the front of the bus, protectively wrapping an arm around your sleeping form. “She needs to rest. She got shot acting as a distraction so your team could make a smooth entrance, remember?” he reminded the man scornfully.

Peacemaker’s face remained calm in spite of the irritation coloring his eyes. His gaze briefly flickered from you to Flag, hesitating.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

◦◦◦

“You know how you made him feel,” your mother uttered, efficiently putting an end to the exchange.

You remembered the times during which you were moody, when you came back home after having spent the entire day feeling everyone’s emotions around you, when your father did as much as try to talk to you about it, thus instantly setting you off. He was always the spark that ignited you. Whether he was inquiring about your day, or commenting on your behavior, or even just standing a bit too close to you… He’d end up angry, hurt, aggressive – whatever you were feeling at the moment, he’d always end up feeling it too.

Your mother was just wise enough to stay away.

But you also remembered the shouts in the kitchen, the jabs, the constant bickering between them. You remembered listening to it from the stairs and then being blamed for their bad tempers. You’d be blamed for the anger, the aggressiveness, the slaps that so often echoed through the house.

She was wise enough to stay away, and yet be close enough when she’d need an excuse.

“It wasn’t just me,” you whispered through gritted teeth.

“I never said it was.”

“It was you,” you spat out as you whipped your head towards her. “You made him miserable.”

Your eyes were completely focused on her face, her pursed lips and closed-off features, and never once did you notice the way her foot slowly started pressing further onto the accelerator.

◦◦◦

You woke up with a start and instantly casted a frantic gaze around you, expecting the usual blaring horns and shouts that followed this exchange. You were surprised to find yourself in a safe environment, all wrapped up in an unexpected warm, comforting atmosphere. Usually, the second you woke up, your instincts picked up on the foul aura of anguish you had unconsciously secreted into the air, and yet, here, you could feel nothing but utter peacefulness.

One of your eyebrows formed an elegant arch as you lowered your gaze to glimpse at the warm weight wrapped around you, only for your eyes to land on a familiar calloused hand hanging from your shoulder and almost grazing your cheek. You felt a faint smile tenderly pulling at the corners of your lips before even turning your head to confirm the identity of the owner of the arm wrapped around your shoulders, and when you turned your head to direct your gaze towards Flag’s sleeping face, you simply found yourself incapable to fight it off anymore.

Then, with a fond smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you snugly nestled you head back into his side and shut your eyes, this time knowing for a fact that you wouldn’t risk infuse the atmosphere with anything else than a blissful quietude.

◦◦◦

It was chaos. Utter chaos.

Your car was long abandoned a few feet away from you, fuming after having hit another vehicle in the middle of an intersection. The driver who had started fighting with you was now in a fully blown-out fist fight with another man who had merely tried to step in for you, and the more people got out of their cars to understand what was going on, the more people got trapped under your influence and started fighting, some going as far as purposefully ramming their vehicle into another’s.

Your voice was hoarse from shouting at the driver who had first attacked you and you were now trembling with anger as you watched an entire riot unfold before your very eyes, unconsciously fueling it with intense waves of rage that'd hit any innocent that'd happen to walk a bit to close to the scene.

Someone gripped your shoulder and you tried to jerk away from the touch, whirling your head towards the person with your teeth bared, ready to attack whoever was trying to get your attention.

“Honey, focus on me, alright? Focus on me.”

The voice was rough, the tone frenzied, and yet when the hands grasped your shoulders, it was with an unexpected gentleness. The fingers were quivering with restraint, barely managing not to dig into your skin in an attempt to snap you out of it.

This staggering tenderness startled you so much that it managed to take you out of your trance for a fleeting moment, allowing reason to take over as you fought back the instinctive urge to shove the hands away. With frantic, brimming eyes, you diverted your gaze towards your mother, desperate for a comforting point of focus to latch onto like a lifeline.

A sob threatened to crawl up your throat as soon as you met her eyes. There, in the midst of all the hardly concealed anger – a glint of affection, a vacillating spike of tenderness battling to emerge from under all that vibrating rage your mind was forcefully pushing into her. With a choked-up breath of relief, you instinctively stepped forward, latching onto that abiding twinkle of kindness in spite of all that surrounding violence like a lifeline.

Then, when there was an anticipated screeching of tires coming from your side, a glimpse of grey metal flashing out of the corner of your eye, and an oh-so-familiar harrowing feeling of dread seizing your insides, you kept your eyes unwaveringly locked into your mother’s, resolutely shutting out everything else around you. You bored your gaze into hers and let your mind soak in her warmth.

The car never came, the shouts quietened down, your surroundings slowed down until coming to a complete halt, time stalled and your dream mercifully stepped away from your memories to spare you.

You stood there for ages lost into your mother’s loving gaze, until – having strayed too far from reality – your subconscious lost all senses of what was and wasn’t at the time and let the scene morph into whatever your mind desired. Then, when the voice spoke up again, it wasn’t your mother standing before you anymore,  but a person you now trusted more than you ever thought you would.

“Don’t be scared of me.”

 -----

“We need to help these people.”

The words went completely over your head as you despairingly gaped at the glass in front of you, feeling cold to your bones.

You had gotten a bad feeling as soon as the elevator doors had cracked open.

There hadn’t even been time to make a step forward before you had gotten hit by the foul, repugnant thickness sullying the air with a strength that almost had you rearing your head back a bit. For a dizzying second, the vile and nauseating reek had left you standing there, blearily blinking as your senses had desperately struggled to accommodate to the repellent atmosphere. Yet, in spite of the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes just from the sheer despondency emanating from the place, you had been far from imagining the atrocity, the barbarism of the experiments that were taking place down here.

Despite your reluctance, you had been forced to follow the others as they had stalked out of the elevator, engaging into the dark and humid place with feeble, hesitant steps. As you had all crossed the small entrance leading to the laboratory, you had needed to fight your instincts that they had urgently pleaded you to simply whirl around and run back into the elevator.

Every breath you had taken weighed heavily on your tongue, the pungency sticking to the walls of your throat and poisoning your lungs. Every other second you had spent down there had simply felt like another year taken off your life, the wretched atmosphere slowly eating away at your brain like acid.

In spite of all of that, it had taken some time for the horror to truly dawn on you.

The despair had crept into your heart with every step you had made into the cellar, and then, when you had gotten to the center of it, you had felt for the very first time of your life an intense claustrophobia swarming your heart. Surrounded by a sea of decaying bodies all bound together by the same searing, devastating agony, the hostile basement had quickly gone from a gruesome laboratory to a deadly trap slowly closing in on you.

With nothing but wandering bodies all around you, you felt at the bottom of a pit of wretchedness, your head swelling with an intense, overwhelming pain. It was as though you were entrapped in the center of a microwave which was channeling thousands of screams directly towards your brain instead of radiations, however one of them was significantly stronger than the others and seemed to come from the wide glass wall right in front of you.

“Impossible, dear. They’re corpses below those stars.”

In spite of the searing agony flaring through your chest, your heartbeat seemed to slow down and settle onto a numbing, soporific pace as you unconsciously started stepping towards the wide glass, as though bewitched by the heart-wrenching wail you felt coming from whatever was hiding in that liquid.

With trembling, tentative fingers, you lifted your hand and slowly pressed your palm against the freezing glass, yearning to soothe the poor sufferer from their wrenching agony. The pain only seemed to intensify at the touch, the feeling of desolation gripping your insides as your ears started ringing, completely isolating you from the others. There was nothing else in that room but you and a desolated martyr screaming with thousand of voices right into your mind.

You watched with mournful, brimming eyes as the dark figure behind the glass started stirring until a single, colossal eye revealed itself in front of you, appearing emotionless to any common spectator and yet emitting an amount of woe that would’ve had you on your knees had you not gotten so used to sensing people’s emotions.

“Outburst?”

Rick’s voice rose up right behind you but still didn’t startle you, your eyes riveted onto the creature before you with rapt focus.

“It’s in pain,” you croaked out, the faint words scraping your dry throat like some sandpaper grating your vocal cords. “It’s in so much pain.” You shifted your fingers a bit, as if trying to press your hand closer to the glass, get closer to that strange creature, completely blind to the danger it represented. The tentacles, bumps and single eye did not matter – all you could see was the utter suffering it was in.

“Well,” the Thinker unabashedly butted in, “if I’m not mistaken regarding the purpose of your self-righteous egomaniacal mission – not for much longer.”

His words dawned on you with a dry clarity and had you shifting away from the glass in one brisk motion to whirl your head towards Rick. “We can’t kill it,” you asserted with an adamant, steadfast tone that did not match the slight waver in your voice.

“We have orders.”

Rick’s steadfast voice was way more convincing than yours, and what would’ve usually been a mere reminder of his status as colonel felt like a frustrating hindrance that only heightened the desperation swarming your heart and made you let go of the glass to tighten your fists as you turned around to fully face him.

“No, we can’t, we have to help it, it’s—”

“It’s dangerous,” Rick cut you off, his distrust-colored eyes briefly flickering towards the glass wall.

“It’s suffering!”

Your distressed screech echoed through the cellar, your plea painfully reverberating on the walls and splattering the frantic desperation dripping from your tone all around the basement.

For a fleeting moment, Flag remained speechless, as if hit with full force by the intensity of your despair. During that fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of the hesitation flashing in his eyes, the way he seemed to ponder over the situation for even just a second, wondering what to do and which way to choose. Then, his gaze flickered to the side, briefly meeting Peacemaker’s, and you were able to pinpoint the exact moment he put his guards up again, welding back on his old mask of professionalism to tightly shut out any emotion you could try to induce in him.

There was a subtle shift in his expression, so subtle you might not even have noticed had you not been so desperately seeking any trace of support on his features. Instead of showing the understanding you were so badly hoping for, the traits of his face hardened, the glint in his eyes dimmed, and then you weren’t standing before Rick anymore, you were facing the colonel, towering over you with his back straight and his orders engraved in his mind.

You were acutely aware of the fact that the mission outweighed you; you had just hoped Rick would hold enough respect towards you to give your words the slightest bit of consideration. Apparently, this respect only allowed you one minute of his time before he completely shut you out.

With a sharp, regretful sigh, he took a step towards you and grabbed your arm with a gentle reluctance that contrasted with the harshness of his tone as he said that you needed to go with the other team.

You tried to protest but his strides were long and hasty, and before you even knew it, he was punching the first-floor button of the elevator as you stood inside of it, stunned.

Just as the doors started closing before you, you feebly parted your lips to utter one last plead; your pained, wavering voice coming out laced with betrayal. “You said I could trust you.”

When he had seemed ready to turn away as soon as the doors started closing between you, Rick’s attention seemed to be piqued by your words as he shifted his gaze back onto you, lingering in front of the elevator for just a second more.

The distress coloring your eyes melted into a sullen resignation as soon as your gaze bored into his, your chest constricting with dejection. There, under the thick coat of seriousness, in the midst of all the restrained belligerence this place inspired him, no glint of affection was to be found, no spike of tenderness desperately trying to emerge from the vibrating anger – nothing but cold, glaring callousness.

Not Rick.

Colonel.

-----

“Where’s Flag?”

Bloodsport turned his gaze towards you, and you instantly recognized the apologetic look in his eyes.

As he grimly shook his head, you finally experienced it firsthand – the agony of a thousand people.

-----

“Apparently Waller sent something to his hospital room. People are joking and saying she sent flowers, but if you want my opinion the old hag probably sent him a reminder that his contract doesn’t cover paid sick leaves.”

The voice, just like the steps accompanying it, echoed through the corridor and kept getting closer to your cell, undoubtedly coming from yet another guard who’d attempt to get a word or a reaction out of you – anything that’d stop them from having to book in an appointment with the jail therapist.

You had seen many of them pass by while you had spent days in a temporary cell during your recovery but hadn’t thought they’d keep on sending them after having transferred back in your old cell this morning.

The landscape change didn’t make any difference for you, as you simply kept on staring at the wall for hours on end with the most irksome gloomy look clouding your features.

You couldn’t think about anything else than Rick.

You didn’t think you had even truly processed it yet. It had happened too fast.

Within the span of a few days, the colonel had somehow gained your trust, slowly leading you to warm up to him by showing you an affection you hadn’t experienced in years. It felt like he had turned your world upside down, made everything brighter with the prospect of saving lives alongside a superior who truly valued you, and then you had made the mistake of letting him out of your sight, forced to walk away from that dreadful laboratory for just a few minutes, and he had died there, the one person on this earth who you could genuinely trust now buried under the rumbles in that bottomless pit of agony.

You had mulled over it what felt like a thousand times already and you just could not figure out how to simply go on with your life. Not when your one chance at a brighter future had been squandered so violently as soon as you had turned your back to it.

Somehow, it felt like your fault.

You had been careless, unfocused. You had forcefully dragged Rick’s attention away from the mission at hand only because you were too weak to handle the downsides of your ability, your eyes pathetically overflowing with tears of empathy as the rest of your team simply tried to achieve the mission. You had distracted Rick as that one had been forced to take you to the elevator like a child, had unconsciously helped Peacemaker steal a secret file and forced Cleo to try and stop him on her own before Flag could come to her aid.

The file had been retrieved, but only after Bloodsport had stopped Peacemaker from coldly eliminating Cleo. Only after Rick’s body had already been left laying soundly in the laboratory.

They had fought with all their might for that file, for those values you had accused Flag of lacking merely days ago, and you hadn’t even been there.

It had been crushing to find out that the trust you held towards him had been misplaced, but it was nothing in comparison to discovering he shouldn’t have trusted you either.

You forcefully swallowed back the lump in your throat when you heard the steps finally come to a halt right by your cell and had a hard time concealing the startled look on your face when a very familiar voice rose up.

“Well well well, from what I’ve heard little princess doesn’t want to eat anymore?”

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end at the falsely dulcet tone dripping with a syrupy looking but dangerously abrasive poison. You had to keep yourself from gritting your teeth as your gaze caught up on Griggs’ silhouette standing before your cell from the corner of your eye.

“You’re not even gonna make an effort for me?” he teased you as his lips spread into a sneering smile that made him look more moronic than sadistic due to the absolute lack of sagacity behind his eyes.

You kept your mouth tightly shut and your eyes riveted to the wall across from you, trying to muster the blankest expression you could not to let him affect you but feeling a peeved expression weighing down on your features nonetheless.

“Aww, guys it looks like we’re gonna have to use the feeding tubes,” Griggs ironically groaned, turning towards his colleagues with a facetious glint in his eyes. One of them instantly stepped up to open the door to your cell, not even needing to think twice about the threat just emitted. “You know how much I hate doing that,” he then kept on jeering, much to the amusement of the other guards.

You waited with anticipation as he stepped into the cell, feeling your entire body buzzing with an overpowering apprehension, not having a clue of what you could do but knowing for a fact that with all the adrenaline slowly being spread into your system, there was no way you’d let Griggs go back to his old mistreatment.

His filthy fingers barely grazed your skin, and, as though electrified, you jumped to your feet, putting some distance between you and him. You kept your eyes determinedly fixated in front of you but could see from the corner of your eye how stunned he was by your abrupt reaction. He had gotten to the unresponsive side of you that had emerged after only a few months here, the poor figure staying down on the ground and no longer batting an eyelash at his constant abuse. His face remained dazed for a fleeting moment before the ghost of a smirk reappeared on his features.

After all, he had broken you once, it’d be no bother to do it a second time.

“What, you go on one mission with Task Force X and then you don’t like me anymore?”

He reached out a hand again, much more aggressively this time, and you jolted away, instinctively bringing a hand up without even knowing if you were willing to take the risk of hitting him.

“Step away from her, Griggs.”

The stone cold words loudly rang through the cell and heavily fell between you both, instantly followed by a deafening silence as Griggs’ hand hovered in the air for a fleeting moment, just inches away from the skin of your arm.

Then, for a dizzying, fleeting moment, it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the cell.

Chill shivers of relief racked your spine before your brain even had time to process the voice, and then, when the familiarity of it finally sank in, you felt as though some freezing water had been dumped over you, leaving you soaked and shivering in the middle of your cell – only this time Griggs wasn't the cause of it.

You whirled your head towards the entrance of your cell with a vertiginous speed and had to bite back a choked-up noise from stumbling out of your lips when your gaze landed upon the owner of the voice glowering at Griggs with a murderous look in his eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be back yet,” Griggs pointed out sheepishly, letting his arm limply drop to his side now that his focus had been completely taken off of you.

“I was feeling better,” Rick informed him with a tight-lipped smile which then briskly dropped from his features. “Now stand down,” he repeated himself, his voice steadfast and as neutral as he could muster it. “I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you. I’ve seen what you did to her, and I’d love to show you what it feels like to be on the wrong side of the blade.”

The threat made the cell go utterly silent and for just a second, the sweetest second ever, all traces of amusement vanished from Griggs’ suddenly pale face. He looked started, nervous, oh so pathetic, and then when he finally regained his composure enough to quickly muster up the most serious look he could to paint on his pallid features, he had already lost all respect from every occupant of the room.

“You’d risk your job for a bitch who told you to eat shit five minutes into your mission?”

There was an imperceptible twitch on Rick’s features at the reminder. He had to briskly fight off a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, but you could still discern the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes and had to swallow back a choked-up laugh – your heart swarming with a bunch of overwhelming emotions you couldn’t even identify at the moment.

His eyes briefly flickered to you. “Apparently,” he conceded with the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, before he cast his gaze back on Griggs and recovered a cold, severe expression. “And, trust me, given how liked you are around here, I don’t think I’d risk more than a paid leave even if I attempted to murder you.”

Yet another sullen silence fell over the cell like a heavy fog, and this time, Griggs made the wise decision of not shattering it, containing his anger within a single huff before stalking out of the cell with heavy steps that made him akin to a stomping child. His colleagues briefly glanced at Rick, not quite knowing what to do, before meeting his eyes and promptly deciding to follow Griggs’ decision.

“You’re alive,” you breathlessly uttered as soon as you were both left alone.

“A bit roughed up, but yes, alive,” he winced back, turning his gaze towards you.

You knew he couldn’t feel the blissful exultation swarming your heart now that your ability was smothered by the collar secured around your neck, but you hoped he could see it in your eyes and in the way you just couldn’t seem to blink those relieved tears away.

Rick took a few steps towards you and let out a bated breath, as if he was finally allowed to exhale, as if he hadn’t been able to feel comfortable until standing near you again – and you then knew for a fact that if he couldn’t see the exultation in your heart, he at least felt it as well.

Without another word, he then tentatively brought a hand up before letting it hover uncertainly in the air. He seemed hesitant as if he wasn’t sure how to act anymore now that his mask of professionalism was gone, and you couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle. This was enough for a single droplet to finally fall from your brimming eyes, and the way Rick’s gaze seemed to soften even more at the sight of it almost led you to shedding a few more.

With utter cautiousness, he brought his hand to your face to brush the stray tear away and then left it there, his warm palm cradling your cheek.

“Looks like I’ve won again,” he said in a breath, the words merely stumbling out of his lips as if he were afraid to break that frail, tender moment of vulnerability between the two of you. His thumb gently stroked your cheek again and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, your gaze never once leaving his. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You had once said that the only way for Rick to ever get close to you was for you to give out your last breath, and yet, ever since that very vow you had felt yourself ever-so-slowly opening up to him, as though there was something in the air and it was killing you softly.

Now that the sweet, sweet poison had filled up your lungs – all wrapped up in his arms and boring your gaze into his with a wide-eyed fascination – you chose to completely let go of that vow, braving the risk to perish and merely uttering back two candid, gentle words.

“Pretty please.”

Previous

tag list: @honovi18, @jackdanieltorrance, @mochminnie , @themightyredwood,  @taternuts,  @weallhaveadestiny ,  @derangedcupcake, @to-be-or-not-to-be-2021, @vvipgot7be, @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine, @lacontroller1991, @navs-bhat,  @monkeyyellowsunshine,  @ajeff855, @brokenwhitegirlsworld, @agirlonfire95, @kingtwhiddleston, @cluelessnitwhit, @davnwillcome, @xoxabs88xox

[nopelleen]

deadly nightshade.

CHAPTER 1

Rick Flag x Spy!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, murder and past trauma.

Summary: Your first big mistake: trading the KGB for ARGUS.

A/n: My first time, Forgive me if it's shit. Had to rewrite it for at least 3 times before I was satisfied. Totally did not neglect my work for this. Absolutely not and definitely did not get carried away by creating a fake spy academy and tragic backstory. Anyways enjoy folks.

The atmosphere of the conference room was lukewarm, and it took barely a few seconds for you to get sucked in a horrible memory you usually kept locked in a box deep inside your mind. The wind was softly blowing several strands of hair in front of your face and your hands barely moved to tuck them away. Dirt stuck to your forearms as they remained firmly poised against the moist soil and dirty grass.

It was one of the rare days you were allowed to stay outside for a couple of hours. Even then, you had to work for it, complete a mission, do as they say, and you would get a reward for your excellent skills and obedient conduct. You felt like a prisoner, living in a tiny room with a glass door and surveillance cameras in each corner of the walls.

You did not realise until it was too late that your childhood was not a normal one. Ordinary kids were not taught how to slit someone's throat, how to shoot, how to seduce and manipulate men and women alike, at least, that is what you assumed.

A freezing breeze snapped you out of your thoughts and you gingerly brought your hands up to rub your arms, the friction providing you with some heat. The sun was not going to reveal itself today. What a waste, you thought bitterly. Maybe it would have been better if you had simply asked for another book instead.

"I have another 15," you said monotonously with an icy tone as a crunch of the dried grass alerted you of someone's presence. Emotions were meant to be discarded, not dealt with. The consequences of showing too much of it were either getting locked in a cell half the size of your own personal prison or getting used as a shooting target if the Matron was feeling a bit more tempestuous.

"Not a Sentinel," A soft voice replied and your blood almost ran cold. You slowly turned your head to the side. The standard boots the Academy offered were now in your line of sight. Your mouth remained shut and your heart was beating way too fast for your own good. After taking a good look around, the girl scrunched down carefully.

"I just wanted to thank you for the other day... you know, for not snapping my neck," she let out a small, forceful yet grateful smile and with a shaking hand, she removed something out of her pocket. You sneaked a good look at her face and the sinking feeling in your stomach made your head incredibly dizzy.

"You should go before someone sees me with you," You managed to let out with a sneer.

The girl froze, her lips quivering as if she wanted to let something out so badly. A distressed sigh left her mouth and she continued to stare intently at the dead sunflower decomposing in the dry plot of land in front of you. Your legs were burning from staying in the same position for too long but once you stood up, you darted to the nearest Sentinel, claiming you wanted to return inside even if your one hour of sunshine was clearly not over.

You would be damned if anyone saw you with another Subject, let alone the one you were supposed to fight to the death in one of your last monthly evaluations. The Matron was kind enough to let that one slide but you should have known something bad was going to happen when she showed up behind your glass door later that day. She never really had a liking for unfinished business...

You slowly walked down the dark corridor, a few heads snapping to stare at you with shock or confusion through the clear doors. Then you stopped, urgently pressing a code to the keypad in front of you to disguise your shaking hands. The very same eyes you saw earlier in the day stared up at you, a hopeful glint dancing around which eventually died when her gaze landed on the blade in your left hand.

There was so much blood everywhere.

The knife laid abandoned on the floor and your fist remained clenched around the piece of dried clay you found in her pocket.

The elder woman gently put her hands on your shoulders, rubbing slowly before leaning in to whisper in your ear. "Now, what did I tell you earlier, sweetheart?" You could feel the bile rising up your throat but you stayed still, watching as the Sentinels cleaned up the blood on the floor and ripped the patchy artwork from her walls. You hated pet names, hated them with all your might.

"It's every girl for herself," you replied quietly, praying she did not notice your tense demeanour and your trembling hands in your pockets. Your breathing shallowed as the body bag was dragged out of the room at the pace of a snail. Before you could even tear your eyes off the dreadful sight, bony fingers found their way around the back of your neck. "Watch," she hissed, tightening her hold as her fingertips dug into your skin. You swallowed your whimpers, standing as still as you could while watching the flimsy plastic disappear down the hallway.

"Good," Her voice swelled. You balled your fists. You could almost feel your throat close up.

"Am I understood, Agent L/n?" Your eyes snapped to the woman at the head of the table. Waller raised her eyebrows at you, staring deep into your soul for a few solid seconds. It must be one of those days she was patient enough to wait for a reply.

"Yes Ma'am," You said, clearing your throat and glancing at your colleagues who averted their eyes elsewhere. You breathed out of your nose and your body slowly relaxed into the leather chair once you realised it was not real, it was just a memory, nothing more, nothing less.

However, God appeared to have other plans as your eyes met those of your concerned commanding officer. Your body tensed again and your face dropped into a cold expression. You did not need or want his sympathy and concern. it was not like anyone actually cared. From what you gathered, your co-workers were as untrustworthy as hungry sharks waiting for a string of blood to reach their noses to take the chance to throw you, or anyone for a fact, under the bus.

John Economos had a personality as bland as the hard-boiled egg they would force down your throat back at The Academy. Emilia Harcourt was not fooling you with her improvised American accent and Flo Crawley was a fool to think she would be allowed to go on a Task Force X mission to impress her crush with a criminal record. Amanda Waller was a scary woman, but not the meanest. She looked like a gentle cat next to the Matron who controlled half of your life before you were shipped to the KGB like a broodmare the night you turned 18.

Last but now least, your commanding officer Colonel Rick Flag was the only member of ARGUS who looked like a decent person. But somehow his name still brought a bad taste in your mouth. In conclusion, working with ARGUS was like playing with the untrustworthy kids at elementary school who would not hesitate to steal your lunch and force your head into a toilet bowl, not like you ever had the chance to experience the mundane aspects of a decent childhood.

The mission had gone terribly, just like any other Task Force X mission in history but this particular one had left everyone hanging on the edge. Boomer had fucked up big time and he would have almost gotten his head blown off to pieces if Flag hadn't insisted. Now, Waller was chewing you both for a silly rookie mistake that was not supposed to happen. The meeting was so bad that it managed to bring you back to the worst parts of your life. You were sure you could cut the tension in the atmosphere with the dull and bloody letter opener chilling in your pocket.

Waller intensely met your eyes, giving you a silent warning before moving on to intimidate your on-field partner. "I want two full reports on my desk by tomorrow morning," She said with a bite and you wished you could just roll your eyes at the back of your head and flip her off. But instead, just like the obedient little spy you were, you pursed your lips, bowed your head and stood up from the chair to walk out of the room before you could stab Waller in the eye and possibly get arrested for first-degree murder. This was perhaps the only time you were grateful for Matron's intense lessons about keeping a poker face despite the situation.

You tightened your jaw in frustration as you left the room, unzipping the foul jacket of your uniform. The sweat made the dirt stick incredibly well to your skin and you could not wait to rub it all off your body. The familiar heavy steps echoing behind you made you fasten your pace down the corridor. The metal door of the restroom came into view and you breathed out in relief as you held on to the cold handle, ready to enter and lock yourself in.

A strong hand wrapped around your forearm, pulling you away from the door. You resisted but the fatigue greatly decreased your endurance, causing you to take a few steps towards the man. Flag looked at you, his eyebrows deeply furrowed as he loosened his grip and simply rested his hand against your clothed arm. His blond hair was so coated with dirt, it looked as black as the coffee you drank merely hours ago to keep yourself awake while Waller nagged you both to death.

"Are you okay? You didn't look too good in there," His eyes were caked with concern. You held back the urge to scoff, Colonel Rick Flag was either a ridiculously good actor or an idiot to think you had forgotten his earlier actions. You harshly brushed his hand off your arm, stepping backwards until your back touched the door.

"You didn't seem that concerned when I almost got killed earlier, Colonel," You bit back, tearing your eyes away from him as your face twitched. Flag opened his mouth, holding his hand out to grab your hand before you slammed the door on his face. He cursed, his fists itching to punch the wall. Flag tried pacing up and down the hallway, debating on waiting until you left the restroom. But he knew he was doomed for the moment he remembered your intense stubbornness and pettiness, it was something he both experienced and witnessed every day at work.

You laid your head against the door, breathing heavily as the knot in your throat grew bigger. Your feet quickly scrambled to the sink. A wince left your lips as you stared at your reflection in the cloudy mirror. Your fingers found their way to your pocket, and you cringed when you felt the crusty dried blood on the fabric. The letter opener was dropped into the sink while the thumb drive was safely placed on the dry counter.

The ring around the base of your neck was beginning to ripen into a dark purple colour. You slowly brought your hand up, gingerly brushing the bruises with your fingertips. Warm tears filled your eyes and yet, you refused to let any of them flow down your cheeks as Flag rapped his knuckles against the door.

"L/n, I know this won't change what happened but I-" he let out a heavy sigh before gulping and trying to find the right words. The last straw was when he remained silent, simply opting to give up and walk away. You closed your eyes, sniffing as you gripped the sides of the sink . How you hated every single person on earth with a burning passion.

tags [feel free to send me an ask if you wanna be tagged for the next chapters :) ]: @potato-doing-her-best

[nopelleen]

….is outburst going to be unalive at the end and that is what will make Rick cry

well i can't tell, but i can imagine her doing it out of pettiness and honestly i'd kind of live for it ("you said you're not gonna cry, uh? watch this *stabs herself*")

[nopelleen]

JUST READ PART 4 OH MY GOODDDDDD. I have become emotionally attached to Outburst. Help. The fact that they are finally becoming close and their physical interactions make me cry. I'm so ready for Part 5. You are a genius. I love you. Thank you for this masterpiece.

someone being emotionally attached to Outburst is the highest compliment i'm not even kidding?? thank you so much!! also there are more physical interactions coming in part 5 — i finally figured out what scenes would go in it and i literally cannot wait to show you all (already so sorry for the amount of angst i'm gonna try to squeeze in)

anyway thank you so much for the support your comments make my day everytime xx

[nopelleen]

I love “Perish, Pretty Please” so much! Can you tag me in the rest? 😁

ahh thank you so much! i’ll make sure to tag you x

[nopelleen]

just binged all of perish pretty please so far and i LOVE it!! could i be added to the taglist please?

i’m so sorry i somehow missed your ask! i just added you to the list, thank you for leaving a comment i’m glad you enjoyed it ♡

[nopelleen]

Perish, Pretty Please (4/5)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Rick Flag was known to be a pretty good leader, it was the reason why he had been chosen to lead a squad of infamously reckless and idiotic criminals, however it was a lot harder to maintain his authority when one member of the team despised his guts for seemingly no reason.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Rick Flag x Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.3k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: i know this was supposed to be the last part but i severely underestimated how long scenes are supposed to be and i just couldn’t put it all in one part without delaying the day i’d post it even more, sorry! i’d like to say that at least this is a valuable lesson but i also never learn, so

After Rick’s outburst earlier, things had quickly simmered down. Akin to a rain curtain, a thick and painful silence had sharply dropped over the group all at once, and a searing embarrassment had seized your body when you had snapped out of your self-induced trance only to find yourself standing in front of a concerned-looking Rick, shaking and heaving like a frightened animal, one pathetic tear trickling down your reddened cheek.

You had harshly wiped the droplet away with the back of your hand and had promptly walked away, cradling what little dignity you had left in between your frantic hands.

You hadn’t talked to Flag ever since.

You were acutely aware of how you two were essentially tiptoeing around each other and making the entire team suffer from the tense atmosphere between you, but there was nothing you could or wanted to do about it, and it seemed to be the same for Flag. He had seen the way you had recoiled at his shout, he had witnessed the crippling fear coloring your features, and now, whenever you accidentally caught his gaze across the group, he walked away before you even had the chance to divert your eyes first. Months of distress were bubbling inside of you, and you perfectly understood why he didn’t want to address the issue – no one wanted to be there when it’d all come spilling out.

Maybe it was better this way.

“Is it safe here or are you going to play tricks with my brain too?”

You turned away from the box of supplies to shoot an exasperated look towards Bloodsport – a dark gaze that instantly fell flat since you had way too much respect towards the man to actually appear convincingly annoyed.

“He's aware of what I can do; he should've known better,” you quipped back, turning your head back towards the pair of sunglasses you had just found. Bloodsport gave a simple shrug at the small dig towards his old friend as he placed himself right beside you to start fishing through the other box.

“Yeah, well the man's not as good at keeping away from danger as he should be.”

You snorted. “Makes you wonder why Waller would keep on sending him on these missions.”

You made direct eye contact with Flag over Bloodsport's shoulder right as the words left your mouth and watched as his eyebrows slightly furrowed before he went back to his own business, the bluntness of his sudden detachment piercing right through your heart.

If Bloodsport noticed the way your eyes visibly dimmed as an acute pang of discomfort gripped your stomach, he chose not to comment on it and simply motioned to you it was time to go with a chin jerk. You pocketed the pair of sunglasses and followed suit as he climbed into the bus, strategically choosing a seat in the front where you’d be far enough from the others not to be affected by them as they rested on the way towards the city.

You also couldn’t help but notice how Flag hadn’t chosen to go down the strategic road as well, staying near the front of the bus to talk with Milton as that one ignited the engine and therefore having to be careful as to not meet your eyes, which was just as insulting as it was convenient for you.

With a quiet sigh, you let yourself slump into your seat and diverted your gaze towards the window.

You had a long travel ahead of you.

 ------

“Aw, why the long face, sweetheart?” Griggs crouched down to be at eye level with you, tilting his head to the side in the most patronizing way. “You don’t like being woken up with cold water? I might make it a bit warmer next time if you just give me a smile.”

You blearily stared back at him through squinted eyes, deeming that opening your mouth was too much of an effort for too little result – talking back never ended up in your favor, no matter what you said.

“It’s time for your walk.” You heard a ruffling sound and saw his shadow shift as he moved towards the cell’s door. “Stand up and face the wall. Don’t you dare go all feisty on us this time.”

His words painfully pierced through your chest, and you had to swallow back the lump forming in your throat at the reminder, growing acutely aware of the patch of skin still flaring up under the coppery stain sullying your uniform.

No amount of freezing water would ever wash off the blood from it.

 Your eyes flashed open as you awoke with a start, jolting yourself out of your doze by abruptly sitting up in the uncomfortable bus seat. You immediately tried to blink away the heavy sleep tugging at your eyelids, shaking your head a bit in hope to rattle your brain enough to chase away any lingering slumber. Then, once the torpor shrouding your mind had dissipated, you realized that you were still way too alert and your back clearly not stiff enough for you to have slept for more than a few minutes – you had caught yourself from slipping just in time.

A ripple of relief softly washed over you and the stress left your limbs all at once, your body akin to a deflating balloon as you leaned back into your seat. You let out a heavy breath, shifted a bit in the comfortable seat, and then barely had time to blink once before your eyelids started getting heavy again. Your head dangerously started lolling forward and you had to pull yourself out of it again, lifting your head back up as you started scratching your forearm in an attempt to chase away the fog of drowsiness obstructing your mind.

God, you wished you could take a quick nap just like the others were but sensing how peaceful they were feeling at the moment was enough to make yourself scratch your arm a little bit harder – the last thing you want to do was disturb their short moment of serenity.

“You should rest.”

You startled and abruptly sat up, groaning when the sudden motion caused your injury to flare up again. Biting the inside of your cheek, you held your breath for a second before the pain simmered down a bit, shooting a glare towards the one who had deemed it a good idea to creep up on you.

Truth was, Flag hadn’t even crept up on you, he had simply been talking to Milton and then had seen you scratching your arm while going back to his seat, but you’d never admit you had been too tired to remember that one was also in the front of the bus.

“I can’t,” you demurred, leaning back in your seat with a wince. “I can’t control what my mind does when I’m asleep.”

There was a beat of silence during which Flag eyed the bump created by the gauze of your wound under your shirt. You had barely taken care of it earlier, simply adding another layer of bandage on top of the old one and hoping it’d be enough to stop any blood from seeping through your shirt. Given the subtle disapproving frown marring Flag’s features, he doubted the efficiency of your nurse skills as well.

With a quiet, halfhearted sigh, he stepped away for a second, going back towards the driver seat where the box of supplies had been put away, and then came back with a fresh pack of gauze and disinfectant. You watched him silently as he sat down in the vacant seat next to you and started busying himself ripping open the small bag of supplies.

“Lift up your shirt.”

For once, there was no protest on your part in spite of the authoritative tone. You were a bit reluctant at the idea of lifting up the clothing, but did it nonetheless, careful to keep your back firmly pressed against the back of your seat so the tissue would be tucked in and the patch of skin put on display in front of the colonel would only be on your stomach area.

You noticed the way Rick’s eyes flickered to the tissue you kept tightly secured behind your back, especially how he made his gaze brief and then chose not to comment upon it. There seemed to be a sort of tacit agreement between you both stating not to mention this emotional baggage you were carrying with you, to keep on constantly hovering around the matter and dangerously teetering over the edge.

You both lapsed into a soothing, poised silence in which you would’ve have allowed your mind to drift if you hadn’t been afraid of being lulled into yet another slumber by Flag’s gentle care. His touch was light, delicate – fearful, almost. He was careful, for every time Griggs hadn’t been.

It was nearly impossible for you to conceal the feeble glint of fascination held within your gaze as you watched him mend your wound with a feathery, tender touch, but the moment was broken as soon as he had to peel away the small mountain of gauze you had accumulated on your injury and revealed a repugnant, brownish color marring the tissue. You scrunched your nose at the sight of the moist compress, clamping your mouth shut when a disgusted noise accidentally escaped from your lips, but then you noticed the ghost of an amused smile playing on Rick’s lips from the corner of your eye.

Just like that, the tension was lifted, completely cleared from the air, and you had to bite back a relieved sigh as you felt a weight akin to a boulder being taken off your lungs.

The eased atmosphere seemed to have the same effect on Rick whose limbs visibly relaxed as well, even going as far as to break the silence.

“Waller didn’t send me on this mission.”

He had put emphasis on the last words, quoting your words from earlier, and you met his gaze with large, perplexed eyes. Back then, you hadn’t known he had heard you and expected him even less to have been ruffled by your words to the point of bringing it up later.

“She didn’t send me, I volunteered,” Rick then clarified after briefly meeting your befuddled gaze before putting his eyes back on the gauze he was carefully applying to your wound. “I remembered how I was when I first worked with Task Force X – I didn’t see the unit as anything else than convicts trying to get a sweet deal out of it, I had no respect for them. I didn’t trust my colleagues to have a better judgement than me back then, and given those marks you told me about, I was right not to.”

And with these ultimate words, it finally clicked.

He wasn’t simply rectifying you on your earlier statement, but he was skillfully skirting around the tacit agreement, trying to address the incident that had happened the hour before without making you uncomfortable.

For a fleeting moment, you found yourself at a loss for words, staring at him with your lips ever-so-slightly parted but no sound ever escaping them. You hadn’t expected him to confide in you that way, especially not to attempt to reassure you about where he stood. Somehow, it made the incident from earlier feel much more real, and in spite of the way he had carefully chosen his words as to not directly address the issue at hand, you still felt exposed, raw, and couldn’t help the sudden urge to look away from him, shy away from those eyes that could clearly see every bit of hurt coloring yours.

“I understand why you don’t trust me, but don’t be scared of me.”

On these last words, Flag stood up and promptly walked off, leaving you on your own and completely clueless as to where you two now stood.

 ------

“What do you guys drink around here, Fernet? How about a round of Fernets for the table?”

You resolutely shook your head, drawing Peacemaker’s attention onto you.

“Not for me; I’m not drinking.”

“Oh you’re gonna be that girl?”

A short chuckle stumbled from your lips at the man’s sour tone. “Yes, I’m gonna be that girl. I’m already having a hard time ignoring how drunk everybody is in this place, I don’t think a beer is gonna help.”

“You’ll be alright?” Flag enquired, knitting his eyebrows in an inquisitive way.

You answered with a brief shrug. “Eh, I’ll step outside for a bit if it gets too overwhelming.”

Flag maintained your gaze for a second before giving you a nod and returning to his conversation with Dubois, visibly trusting you.

For a long moment you managed to put that trust to good use by remaining completely professional and successfully cutting yourself off from the constant rippling of emotions surrounding you. You managed to keep your guards up even as Cleo dragged you away from the table and onto the dancefloor, even as she led the both of you into a swarm of people reeking of lust and tequila. Within the crowd, you couldn't feel much else than the stifling warmth engulfing you, both coming from the body heat of the people around you and the fervor emanating from them.

More than aware of how sideways the situation could quickly go for you if you did as much as lose yourself in the moment, you forced yourself to keep your guards up even on the dancefloor, moving your body in a restrained and quite pitiful way. In spite of the music blasting through the entire place and the throbbing lights dizzying your mind, you were proud to find out thay you could still remain vigilant at all time, all the while showing enough enthusiasm to make Cleo smile.

The vigilance lasted for a little over ten minutes.

The walls you built around yourself were sturdy as long as you remained even just a tiny bit focused — pushing back the emotions flooding from the crowd around you didn't require a lot of concentration. All you had to do was remain aware, something you could do just fine. However remaining aware was a lot more complicated when Peacemaker was joining the crowd and starting to move along with you. As soon as your eyes landed upon his clumsy moves, Cleo and you erupted into laughter, and then, once the hilarity was gone, so was the stiffness from your body, and you were left you leaning against your friend for support, almost gasping for breath as you two kept on dancing in spite of the smoldering heat reddening your cheeks.

And with all the tension gone from your limbs, it was just too easy to lose yourself in midst of the lively sea of people where the basses blasting through the place completely drowned out your thoughts. It was all too disorienting, but before you could even think about stepping away for a second, Cleo was grabbing your hand, pulling you in, maladroitly making you twirl before bursting into laughter when she almost sent you tumbling into another person, and at that point you simply had no other choice than to let yourself get sucked in.

The pure joy coursing through your veins was so intoxicating, so enthralling, that you had no other choice than to stay and keep on swaying your hips along, gleefully unmindful of the way the crowd moving around you was starting to affect your system.

It wasn’t until your legs started failing to keep on maintaining you upright that you became aware of how shrouded your vision was turning, and when the realization came to you, the daze obstructing your mind was too thick for you to even try to do something reasonable about it.

No, instead of being sensible about the issue at hand and stepping out like you had assured you would earlier, you kept on dancing for a bit, making the conscious choice of ignoring whatever was happening, and then when your eyes landed upon Flag nursing a drink at the bar, your hips finally stilled and you set out to join him, not to seek help but simply because at the moment your brain believed the most fun would be found beside the colonel at the counter.

His eyes flickered towards you when you swiftly slid into the spot next to him, not quick enough to notice that the smooth glide had only been a slick mean to cover up the way your feet had almost skidded on the dirty floor when you had walked up to the counter a bit too hastily. What he did notice however was the dopey smile and heavy eyelids which could hardly be ignored no matter how much you tried to blink away the glazed look from your eyes.

“Having fun?” The snark was evident in his voice, but his words still didn’t carry any genuine annoyance – he actually sounded more like he was trying his best to conceal the amusement from his tone. You decided to ignore the fact that this was a rhetorical question. Or just didn’t understand that it was one in the first place.

“So much!” His eyebrows almost imperceptibly twitched at the cheerful tone, taken aback by the unexpected prospect of for once entertaining a lighthearted conversation with you. “They need to put a place like this in jail, people would be in such a better mood, like it’d be way better than these stupid gyms they put in there – what are we even supposed to do with that?”

“I don’t think putting prisoners in a good mood is their top priority,” Flag retorted with a snort. His eyes were focused on a point behind you and he wasn’t taking any sip from his beer anymore – it seemed he had noticed something, maybe something in relation with the mission that had completely gone over your head.

“Griggs would be so much more bearable if he was in a good mood,” you groused as you rested your elbows on the counter to lean on it, scrunching your nose in distaste. “Or maybe he’s too much in a good mood,” you then rectified, so engrossed in your own reflection that you were mostly talking to yourself at that point.

The name definitely managed to draw Rick’s attention back on you as his gaze promptly snapped back towards you.

“Griggs?”

“Griggs,” you repeated, your voice now lacking any trace of the merriness that had given away your inebriation merely moments ago. The cold ire suddenly coursing through your veins wasn’t strong enough to dissipate the drunkenness shrouding your senses, however it was enough to turn off the blithe glint in your eyes.  “He’s always so fucking peppy. He wouldn’t stop laughing when he put his name on me.”

There was a beat of silence, and you turned your head to take a glimpse at his face, your inexplicably heavy head almost lolling to the side as you did so. Rick was intensely staring at you, so much that you were surprised his unwavering gaze hadn’t managed to burn holes into the side of your head yet. His eyebrows were deeply furrowed in what could either be profound concern or sheer anger, and you could not even guess from his emotions since all you could feel at the moment was the restraint vibrating off of him. He wanted to know but kept himself from uselessly asking since he knew you were bound to elaborate.

This was something he would’ve never bet on just an hour ago – you opening up to him without even being asked. However, he also wouldn’t have bet on you enthusiastically skipping up to the counter to come sit next to him, even less on you being so close that your thigh would brush up against his as you leaned forward to reach behind your back.

He followed the motion of your right hand with a curious look, wondering where you were going with this when your fingers grasped the hem of your shirt, and then watched with cold dismay as you inched the tissue up to reveal the small of your back.

There, just above your right hipbone, so low on your back that your pants almost covered it, sat a prominent, jagged scar that had been angrily etched into your skin to spell out two crooked letters.

H.G.

Hunter Griggs.

“It’s like he branded me.” Had you not felt so giddy, you would’ve been taken aback by how poised and unaffected your voice sounded. Up until now, you had been completely incapable of talking about your scar – your throat tightening to the point of getting choked up every time you attempted to do so. It was much easier to confide in someone while affected by an entire crowd of drunken people. “Kinda sucks,” you concluded with an unceremonious snort.

You were about to abruptly move onto something else, much more inclined to blabbering than usual now that your thoughts were pretty much all over the place, when you suddenly felt a cold touch against your skin stopping you from covering up the scarred patch of skin again. Your eyes flickered back towards Rick but his eyes were still intently fixated on Griggs’ initials, his thumb gingerly hovering over the cicatrice.

“Fucking Griggs,” he growled through gritted teeth, apparently familiar with the name.

You silently gaped at him for a second, not knowing what to say or even how to react, simply taking in the amount of murderous hatred exuding off of him in scathing waves. For the first time in so long, you found yourself not recoiling in front of such violent surges. You were facing them face first and yet knew with conviction that it was not directed at you but at the person who had harmed you, and instead of the goosebumps of fear you were so familiar to, you felt shivers of longing down your spine.

His thumb grazed your skin and his eyes shifted, finally meeting yours. You didn’t shy away from his gaze, and instead found yourself tilting your head back a bit to properly bore into his eyes, staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes, looking so inviting and deep down fully intending on enticing him. Maybe it was the influence of the drunken atmosphere around you, or maybe you were simply running out of excuses, but you wanted him to get closer, you wanted him to leave his hand on the small of your back and never take it back.

A look you couldn’t decipher flashed across his face and you were too distracted to even try to read his emotions, but then his gaze briefly flickered from your eyes to your lips, and before you could even say something, he was leaning back and the touch on your lower back disappeared.

“Come on, let’s get you outside before you start feeling more than just a bit drunk,” Flag suddenly suggested as he stood up from his stool. “Dubois seems to have intercepted the Thinker.”

Though a bit confused by the abrupt change of atmosphere, you knew better than to protest when your mind was still in such a drunken daze and only blinked for a moment before following suit. You shot up to your feet and felt Rick’s hand grasping your arm to steady you before you could even start to lose balance. You gratefully accepted the touch and stayed close to him as he set out for the exit with a determined pace, so much that you clumsily bumped into him when he came to an abrupt halt merely feet away from the door.

You had to stop yourself from groaning, the prospect of finally putting some space between you and the drunken crowd seeming so close and yet so far. However, before you could voice your discontentment out loud, you felt the grip on your arm become a bit tighter just as a sudden surge of hostility flooded the place.

“Mis amigos, no se preocupe. Estamos buscando a todo Yankee aqui esta noche. Queremos no interuptir la velada, pero nos tiene que mostrar su ID.”

The stench of belligerence that accompanied the horde of newcomers was so strong and pungent that it chased off any remain of merriness floating around you, thus completely clearing your head. The lucidity hit you like a truck and threw you back into action with fitting rigor, but before you could push Flag’s hand off your arm and attempt to manipulate the soldiers into backing away, Bloodsport’s suddenly voice rose up among the crowd.

“There’s no need to disturb everyone’s night. I’m right here, I’m the one you’re looking for.”

Both you and Rick snapped your heads towards with a concerned frown marring your features before you noticed Cleo and Polka-Dot Man discreetly sneaking away. Clueless as to what to do next, you turned your head towards Rick. This one didn't return your gaze immediately, first exchanging a significant look with Dubois before leaning towards your ear.

“Go with Rat Catcher 2,” he hastily whispered as he grasped your elbow to gently push you towards the exit the two others had just vanished through.

“What? But you–”

“I’ll be fine,” he cut you off, finally taking his eyes off of the soldiers to give you a confident look. “I’m not going anywhere until you make me cry, remember?” he then added with a playful smirk, once again putting that childish bet made in a moment of boredum back on the table. “Now go.”

You maintained his gaze for another second, strangely torn at the prospect of leaving him behind. Ultimately, rationality took over and, pushed by the dauntless glint in Flag’s eyes, you promptly whirled around and set forth towards the backdoor Cleo and Polka-Dot Man had disappeared behind.

This time, as you were once again separated from Rick, there was no mistaking where you and the colonel stood.

He had gotten closer to you than anyone had in a long time when his finger had grazed the scar that had been haunting your sleep for months on end, and now, walking away from him felt like one of the hardest things you ever had to do.

Flag had asked you not to fear him, and ever the overachiever, you had grown irremediably fond of the colonel.

Previous

PART 5

tag list: @honovi18, @jackdanieltorrance, @mochminnie , @themightyredwood,  @taternuts,  @weallhaveadestiny ,  @derangedcupcake, @to-be-or-not-to-be-2021, @vvipgot7be, @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine, @lacontroller1991, @navs-bhat,  @monkeyyellowsunshine,  @ajeff855, @brokenwhitegirlsworld, @agirlonfire95, @kingtwhiddleston, @cluelessnitwhit, @davnwillcome​

[nopelleen]

thing is i either make it five parts and post tonight, or i actually make the fourth part the last one but it'd take me a couple more days to finish it (and i kinda really like a scene i've written down already so it's really tempting to post tonight)

.....so the chapters' titles might mysteriously go from (3/4) to (3/5) because i tend to think a scene take a lot less words than it actually does oh no

[nopelleen]

.....so the chapters' titles might mysteriously go from (3/4) to (3/5) because i tend to think a scene take a lot less words than it actually does oh no

[nopelleen]

Hi hi, may I please be tagged in Perish, Pretty Please?

hi! i added you to the list, thanks for reading!!

[nopelleen]

You have really inspired me to write my own rick x reader enemies to lovers fic😖

this is the coolest thing i've been told since i started this oh my god?? please tag me when you post it! (or maybe you already posted it i'm so sorry i didn't see this sooner i was gone for the weekend 😭)

[nopelleen]

Hello! Let me tell you, I have read Perish, Pretty Please and I’m soooooo into it! It’s so amazing and captivating! I can’t wait for the final part and see everyone’s reactions to everything that has been going on!! Can I be tagged in it please? Much love!

this is so nice of you thank you so much?? i added you to the tag list, also i'm gonna try to release the last part as soon as possible but it's probably going to be the longest one yet because i have more scenes than expected to put in it

thanks for the kind words!

[nopelleen]

Can I please be on the tag list? Your writing Is amazing I can't wait for the next part ❤️❤️

thank you so much!! i added you to the tag list xx

[nopelleen]

Can I be on tag list plzz😊

of course! i just added you in, thanks for reading x

[nopelleen]

Ohhmyygoodddd part 3 was so good!!!! Kinda made me cry too. Peacemaker was being a bitch and I wished Outburst could have decked him in the face or balls before Rick intervened. And oml I wonder how Flag's going to react to Outburst shredding a tear. Poor baby :/

aw thank you so much!! i couldn't help but write peacemaker as an asshole, i just can't get past my hatred for him after what he did. i can forgive the numerous murders but i draw the line at his BETRAYAL

let's just hope rick will be better at handling outburst's tears than he was with harley's hug

anyway thank you so much for taking the time to leave a comment! i'll try to get the next part out soon xx

[nopelleen]

Perish, Pretty Please (3/5)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Rick Flag was known to be a pretty good leader, it was the reason why he had been chosen to lead a squad of infamously reckless and idiotic criminals, however it was a lot harder to maintain his authority when one member of the team despised his guts for seemingly no reason.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Rick Flag x Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.7k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: if you saw me trying to change the “(1/2)” to “(3/4)” as subtly as possible -- no you didn’t 

“So, Outburst?”

“Didn't pick the name,” you grumbled back inattentively, too engrossed in your eavesdropping activities to pick up on the fact that they expected more from your answer.

The man who had addressed you – Bloodsport, if the talking shark had actually understood your question – was kind enough to let it pass and allow you to shift your attention back on the conversation happening a few feet away from the small group. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Curiosity pushed you to briefly flicker your gaze back towards the man, and the deadpan stare he was wearing told you more than enough. You quickly took a mental note to find yourself a spot beside him whenever you wanted to avoid small talks, before casting your eyes back on the pair standing across from you.

Flag was currently apologizing on behalf of the unit to the leader – and only remaining member – of the Maltese resistance, and you had a hard time not grinding your teeth at the way he was standing there, looking so righteous and commanding with his hands on his hips. From where you were standing, you had only managed to pick up on a few words, however they had been enough to understand that Flag was now so gracefully offering to team up with Sol, as if he hadn’t been the one refusing to stay and help them barely minutes ago. It took you all your might not to saunter in and point out to the colonel how much easier it was to do the right thing when an audience was there to witness your altruism.

“I think I recognize you,” Peacemaker butted in, immediately managing to engage your attention thanks to his incredibly haughty tone. A frown marred your features as soon as your eyes landed upon him as he somehow found a way to give you an up and down look while looking down on you the entire time. If you found Flag a little too righteous for your taste, you could already tell you were in for a ride with this complacent-sounding arse. “You were on the news, weren’t you? That one big riot? Six deaths?”

You gaped at him, both taken aback by the questions and flabbergasted by the way he had paid no mind to the way you had visibly tensed at the first question and had just kept on piling up more and more details in spite of the discomfort suddenly marring your features.

“Peacemaker.” Rick’s voice came down like thunder to berate him, cutting right through the conversation with authority and sending an odd shiver of attraction down your spine at the way your nosy interlocutor seemed to instantly stand down.

Your eyes met his for a fleeting moment before you both diverted your gazes back towards your initial interlocutors, immediately fleeing the tension you both knew would build up from a single eye contact. It was a bit hard to forget how heated your last exchange had gotten, especially when said heat did not come from the words spewed at each other but more from how close you had ended up standing.

“What's your thing?” Bloodsport asked, either polite enough to ignore his teammate’s remark or simply not caring enough to probe into the matter any further – given the stern look the man was still sporting, it was probably the latter.

You pondered over the question for a second, not quite thrilled to share any more details about your ability after the pristine first impression Peacemaker had just made for you. Then, the right words hit you.

“I make people cry.”

Blackguard might've been a traitor, but one thing was sure — the man had a way with words.

 ----

You hadn’t managed to secure a spot by the quiet man with inexpressive eyes.

However, what you had managed to secure was a spot two rows behind Rick Flag, and that might’ve been worth the price of having to entertain small talk for the entire walk. Besides, you could not complain about having to speak to another person when said person was as adorable as Rat Catcher 2. Plus, the poor girl was too tired to hold a real conversation anyway, whenever she made a remark, you’d only have time to make a few exchanges before her exhaustion caught up with her and made her irresponsive.

The problem was, being an empath did not only mean you could affect and guide people’s emotions; it especially meant you could feel people’s feelings. It could be a subtle side-effect, barely noticeable, like when Flag’s growing irritation towards you had prickled your skin with goosebumps, or it could be stronger, more bothersome, coming at you under the form of rippling waves crashing against your mind more and more violently as the person got closer.

It turned out Rat Catcher 2 was truly, strenuously tired.

At first you managed to ignore it by actually distracting yourself with small talk – which was actually how you discovered just how sweet the girl was. However, keeping on ignoring the strong waves of fatigue flowing off of her became more and more tough as the hours went by. It crept up on you gradually and before you could even notice how yawns just kept on trying to crawl up your throat every two seconds, Peacemaker was shooting a harsh look over his shoulder and telling you to keep your little empath tricks to yourself. Too tired to keep your ability from affecting the people surrounding you, you finally gave up and decided to put some distance between you and the group to stop Cleo’s tiredness from afflicting you.

“Alright, alright, no need to tell me twice,” you gave in, lowering your tone when you saw Flag shoot a brief glance over his shoulder. You felt a bit of relief when he almost immediately turned his head back towards the path in front of him, not desiring to have his attention on you even just for a second.

When you had found yourself almost warming up to him earlier, you were now back to square one and couldn’t even stand his sight. His presence had been a bit more bearable during the short window of time in-between your argument in the tent and his apology towards Sol – when you were both standing beside each other gaping at the mass murder the Task Force X had just committed. Then, none of your status had mattered, there had been no convicted and colonel and for just a minute, the lack of hierarchy had made things so much easier.

Now, the mission was back on track and the hierarchy had been reinstalled. With your weapons firmly gripped in hand, your steps heavy with exhaustion and your eyes intently fixated on the horizon, you all walked behind Flag and Sol, following the two leaders with great lassitude. Having a superior was already an idea that didn’t seem very appealing to you, but here, walking ankle-deep into mushy dirt with no clear idea of what the next step would be, you felt miserable, more akin to a bunch of incarcerated people tied to a leash tightly wrapped around the colonel’s hand than a real unit.

At first your plan was to wait for everyone to pass you and then peacefully walk by yourself at the back of the group; however the pace of the unit felt much quicker when you were walking within it, and at the sight of Polka-Dot Man a few meters behind lumbering through the forest with difficulty, you quickly got impatient and settled upon a different plan.

There seemed to be a smaller path right beside the one the unit was following that remained parallel to it for quite a long time and offered a bit of privacy thanks to the thick foliage separating the two tracks.

As quietly as you could, you slipped through the thick bushes and joined the smaller trail that allowed you to walk alone all the while remaining beside the group. You just hoped no one would take notice of your sudden absence. Any question regarding your isolation would force you to delve into the matter once again and having to justify your little ability to people quickly got old. There was only so many times you could say “sorry it’s my empath thing” before becoming a one-trick pony.

Luckily, you were quite successful in your task thanks to the humid weather that allowed you to slither away as silently as a spy, the sound of your steps being smothered by the mushy leaves that covered the ground. You were two seconds away from silently thanking that humidity that you had spent the entire day cursing when a shuffle behind you made you realize that your task hadn't been as successful as you thought.

And, alright, maybe stealth was not a skill included in your file for a particular reason, but hearing someone else’s steps fall behind you merely seconds after you started stalking away was a bit revolting.

You swallowed back the loud, exasperated and maybe a bit overdramatic sigh that tried to crawl up your throat, turned around, and then had to swallow back yet another sigh.

Despite having just gotten busted, you spun around and simply kept on walking away, because perhaps Flag hadn’t truly seen you, perhaps he was just stepping away from the group for a bathroom break, just because his eyes had been on you and you had literally made eye contact did not mean he had seen you.

“Hey, where are you going?”

Or perhaps it did.

“Nowhere,” you curtly shot back over your shoulder, pursing your lips into a thin line when you heard his steps unmistakably follow you instead of switching back to the initial path.

“Yeah, I'm gonna need more than that.”

“Nowhere near you,” you quipped, giving him a half-shrug in what you hoped to be an infuriating manner – however, with two missions affiliated with the Task Force X under his belt, Flag had developed nerves of steel.

“Outburst.” Rick’s voice rose up with a little more conviction this time, his tone much firmer and effectively making you stop in your tracks. You would’ve wondered if you had actually managed to upset him this time, save for the thin layer of patience always coating his voice no matter how unyielding his words were. Mustering as much maturity as you could, you dialed down the attitude and spun around to face him with two heavy, reluctant steps. “You need to stay close to the unit.”

“I’m not allowed to walk by myself?”

“By yourself? On foreign soil? That, to you, seems better than being with the others?” The sheer disbelief coating his rhetorical question irked you as you found yourself incapable of ignoring the resounding concern regarding your intelligence. You kept your mouth shut, spun around and resumed walking, refusing to dignify him with a response. “You don't have to worry about them, the very reason I'm here is to make sure no one dies from anything else than an enemy's bullet. Nothing's gonna happen to you. Plus, I know for a fact that Dubois can be trusted, Peacemaker seems reasonable enough, and King Shark—” the words died on his tongue and a wince marred his features as he took a second to reconsider his statement. “Well, I'm not too sure about King Shark, maybe keep an eye on that one.”

“I'm not doing this because of them.” Your steps came to an abrupt halt as you whirled back towards him, tired of listening to him reassure you over something you did not even care about to begin with.  “I'm doing it for them,” you then clarified with a pointed look, putting an exaggerated amount of emphasis on the second to last word for the sheer joy of patronizing him.

Confusion marred his features for a second before a look of realization flashed across his face. “Because of your ability?”

“Don't sound so surprised, it's insulting,” you protested, scrunching your nose in discontent. “I can’t stay there; I basically make Cleo’s exhaustion reverberate among the group.”

Rick pursed his lips as he nodded, acknowledging an unexpected downside to your capacities. There was a beat of silence between you two during which Flag’s gaze briefly flickered towards the path the unit was still following, as if considering retreating towards the group. He was facing two options: act as the colonel he supposedly was by retiring to his leading spot on the front line or try to melt his way through this ice wall separating the two of you just a bit more.

Without another word, you resumed walking, expecting him to spin around and retreat back to the initial path as soon as you had offered him an explanation. You were surprised to hear his steps fall right behind you, casting him a questioning look from the corner of yours eyes when he casually started walking alongside as if going back to the other one had not even been an option in the first place and therefore did not require an explanation. He purposefully ignored your dumbfounded gaze, maintaining his eyesight focused on the horizon, and in spite of the indifferent mask of professionalism he was bearing, you could feel the curiosity he was trying so hard to repress buzzing around him like static on a television screen.

He had questions. Lots of them. Yet, he kept himself from breaking the silence, knowing most things he was yearning to ask would without a shadow of a doubt miff you.

You were surprised to feel the corners of your lips twitch as you fought off a smile, a bit grateful that he had been mindful enough not to pry regarding what you had blurted out earlier. “A few marks on my body” seriously, you couldn’t have been more transparent if you tried.

“You’re not going back to the original path?”

You were going against your best judgement by breaking any prospect of silent, peaceful walk, but to keep on going without addressing Flag’s odd choice was simply unthinkable for you.

He kept his eyes on the path ahead as he briefly shook his head. “I told you I'm not allowed to let you wander off alone.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you found yourself a bit puzzled by his answer. Surely this idiotic protocol couldn’t be the reason he wouldn’t let you walk merely ten feet away from the group. “And the others?"

“They'll be fine,” Flag rebutted with the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “I’d rather stay here and find out how long it’d take for you to make me cry,” he then added, mischief dripping from his tone as he referred to the way you had quoted Blackguard earlier. You hadn’t thought he’d hear you.

“Bet.”

 ----

It had taken a few more hours of trekking than you would’ve liked and way more sentences exchanged with Flag than you thought you could endure, but the unit had finally made it all the way to the point of meeting.

A bit late, but made it nonetheless.

You worriedly watched as soldiers started surrounding the bus from your hidden spot in the bushes. Posted right behind Bloodsport, you patiently waited for him to make a move with a docility that would’ve probably made Rick wonder if he was hallucinating had he been there to witness it.

There was the single sound of a safety being turned off before bullets started tearing through the air, and you expected Bloodsport to jump into action at any moment now.

However, the man made no move to go in.

“Wanna show off a bit?” he suddenly asked you over his shoulder, keeping his unimpressed eyes on Peacemaker as that one took down the soldiers guarding the barrier.

His question caught you by surprise and it took you a second to process his words, just long enough for him to send you an impatient look over his shoulder, his arched eyebrow clearly telling you that you did not have all the time in the world to ponder over the offer and it was now or never.

You parted your lips, not quite knowing what you were about to say, when the driver’s scream drew your gaze back towards the bus. That was when you saw Peacemaker starting to make his way around it, ready to take the rest of the assailants down – or at least part of the rest, given that one of the soldiers was already halfway down King Shark’s throat.

There was no way you were letting this asshat get all the merit.

You instantly set off; your determined steps solely fueled by the spite you held towards Peacemaker for his previous meddling. In one fluid motion, you snuck a hand under the reddened tissue of your shirt and harshly jabbed your fingers into the gaze covering your fresh wound. The pain was instant, and you had to swallow back a gasp threatening to tear out of your throat when you felt the entirety of your chest flare up. You focused your eyes on the few soldiers left on your side of the bus, braced yourself and then dug your finger further into the wound, biting your tongue until drawing blood as you amplified the pain to send it like a crushing wave towards the enemies. These ones were affected instantly, physically recoiling when the rush of heightened agony hit them. Their weapons dropped to their feet as they bent over in pain, completely clueless as to where this excruciating burn came from.

The gauze under your fingers started to soak with fresh blood, dizziness surged through you, and with one last effort, you seized the opportunity to kindly share the faintness with the enemy through one ultimate crushing wave – finally knocking them out.

A whistle rang through the air as you withdrew your hand from the damp gauze with a wince, your gaze landing upon an appreciative Peacemaker whose deadpan eyes did not quite convey the same sentiment. Rick was right behind him, and you tried not to look too much into the way his eyes, unlike Peacemaker’s, seemed to glow with genuine esteem as he assessed the damage you had done.

“So the empath can pull her weight,” Peacemaker noted, the condescension almost lacking from his tone for once. “Those skills of yours are a lot more useful when they’re not used in the middle of a busy street.”

If you were starting to doze off a little after finally coming down from the pain you had inflicted yourself, Peacemaker’s voice acted like a jot of electricity on you, your entire body tensing at his words. You whirled around to face him; your eyebrows deeply furrowed in ire as you spat at him to stop talking about this. He had no business running his mouth about your past – there was a reason you hadn’t disclosed it to anyone.

He arched an eyebrow in an intrigued way that made you clenched your fists, almost trembling with anger. “What? I was just stating facts, am I wrong?”

“Yes, you are,” you hissed through clenched teeth, your jaw so stiff you were surprised you even managed to properly articulate an answer. “You don't know shit.”

“Actually, I do know shit because this shit in particular was everywhere in the medias,” the muscular knob head retorted in the most obtuse way possible, looking way too satisfied with his answer.

“Outburst, Peacemaker, cut it out,” Rick tried to interfere, only to be thoroughly ignored.

You didn’t even take your eyes off Peacemaker, going as far as taking a step towards him in a daring way as if you stood any chance against him if things ever went south. Flag reacted instantly by stepping in between you both, but you kept on stubbornly ignoring him even when he pushed you back, instead craning your neck to keep on glaring at your interlocutor over Rick’s shoulder. “I will cut it out when he'll stop running his mouth about things he doesn't know,” you spat, spewing the words towards Peacemaker with as much hatred as you could. At no point did you realize the hatred radiating off of you was directly hitting the man standing in front of you.

“I said–”

“I don’t give a fuck what you said!” you shouted back, this time feeling the wave of anger leaving your body but completely ignoring it, almost hoping it’d anger Rick enough for him to decide to let go of you. Surprisingly, he remained with his feet firmly planted on the ground as you tried to push past him, instead trying to call out to you once again. “If you say one more fucking word about–”

“Outburst, stand down!” Rick’s booming voice suddenly bellowed with authority, hitting you full force as you suddenly flinched back, stepping away from him as if he had just slapped you.

It was as if a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over you. You just stood there, shaking to your core. Your eyes were lowered, and for a fleeting moment your instincts were shouting at you that if you did as much as look up, your gaze would land upon Griggs’ vicious, sneering face, but when you finally forced yourself to drag your eyes back up to the perpetrator’s face, your gaze instead met Rick’s concerned eyes.

There was a beat of silence during which the unit wordlessly stared at you; their faces painted in bewilderment. This bafflement marring their features was more than justified since they were acutely aware of what had just gone down – they knew about your power and knew how Rick's action was nothing but the result of it. They had quite literally just watched you load a gun, put it in between Rick's hands, aim it at yourself and then scream at the sight of the barrel pointing at you.

You closed your mouth, the stupor shrouding your mind finally dissipating a bit and making you realize that you were still gaping, frozen in time.

You saw the shock marring Rick’s features melt into pity right as you felt a lone tear harshly drop from your eyelashes right onto your cold cheek.

And as you felt it ruthlessly trickle down your skin, you could not help but think of how disheartening it was to lose a bet that way.

Who would have thought Rick would be the one to make you cry.

PART 4

Previous

tag list: @honovi18, @jackdanieltorrance, @mochminnie ,  @themightyredwood,  @taternuts,  @weallhaveadestiny ,  @derangedcupcake, @to-be-or-not-to-be-2021, @vvipgot7be, @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine​ (thank you all for following this serie you’re all super cool)​