BESTIE PLEASE rick flag x reader where she doesnt know how to swim either (like weasel) and blackguard pushes her off the plane thinking she was joking?? or sum like that thank u bff
BESTIE I LOVE THIS REQUEST!! thank you, I had a blast with this one and got carried away! I hope you enjoy this almost 4k creation of madness I whipped together in about an hour!
RICK FLAG X READER: "BREASTSTROKE"
“And then I sold Bernie for $20. $20, Y/N! Do you know what I can do with that kind of money? Five breakfast sandwiches. Five!” Harley squeals beside you, gripping onto your arm excitedly.
You wince, nodding non-committedly as you turn back to the front of the aircraft where the Colonel points to varying areas on a map of the island approaching below. He turns back to the group, folding his arms over his broad chest.
“Is that clear?” he asks the band of misfits in front of him, a variety of nods, grunts and hollers shared in response, “Ok, good. Gear up. We drop in four minutes.”
There was a burst of movement throughout the aircraft, with members of the new team scrambling for their various weapons to check over. You sigh from where you are strapped into the seat, frustrated that the plan was not in fact clear for you, having been subjected to Harley's nonsensical rambling for the past ten minutes. You had hoped Flag would have said something, told her to shut up (you not quite having the heart to) but he seemed to be so used to her ignoring him to blabber after so many years.
You decide to follow the lead of the others and pat yourself down, despite not having any equipment on your person. Why have weapons when you have your abilities? You didn't know how to use guns or arrows or katana-swords or - javelins? (You frown, noticing the odd choice of equipment belonging to the bright blue-cladded blonde beside you.) Besides, your powers have served you well in the past. Flag had even commented to Waller once that the squad would not have had half the successful missions you all had if not for your abilities. And that's high-praise from the usually assured, stubborn soldier.
You had blushed under the weight of his statement, your cheeks burning rather humiliatingly - an impressive and overwhelming sensation that you decide not to give any thought to on the very often occasion you recall Flag's praise (the small smile on his face and genuine gleam in his eye as he said it, in particular, also burning behind your eyelids).
The occasional compliments and reassurances was one of the thing you noticed. That something about the man was changing from when you had met all those years ago, when he had first whisked you out of your cell and plunged you and the others into Waller’s wicked scheme. Task Force X - things had changed so much for the team since the battle in Medway. Only yourself, Harley, Harkness and Flag were left. Even then, you have all changed yourselves. Sure, Boomer is still… well, Boomer. Harley, since having finally broken up with that clown, seemed much more resolute and impossibly somehow more joyous (if not reckless). With you, your abilities have grown stronger, mostly down to the support of the man now sending you a quick glance from the other side of the helicopter as he checks over the gun in his arms.
Rick, he’s probably changed the most. His past threats and ridicule are now words of encouragement and kindness. Where he once viewed you as something less than human, he seems to see an ally now - as you do him. A friend, maybe? Where there was once a strained hostility, is now- well, you’re not too sure what it is. It’s still tense between you, very tense… And your stomach continues to twist whenever you are near him… And he makes your nerves feel as though they are on fire with the briefest brush of arms as you fight side-by-side… But, it doesn’t feel the same as before. No, things have definitely changed…
"Remember," said Colonel speaks up before you can ponder on ‘but how?’. He shouts over the whirring of the aircraft and chatter of the criminals, "No powers or weapons are to be used until we hit land. Don't give Waller a reason to get trigger-happy and you lose your head. We take cover, then wait for orders of our next move. This is all about the element of surprise."
You nod along with the others, though are unable to piece together the rest of the plan. You're sure it's simple enough, you'll catch on. Or you'll improvise, as the squad usually ends up doing anyway.
Flag passes you by as he heads for the opening ramp of the aircraft, shooting a quick, private smile you have become so reliant on to settle your nerves before these missions. You nod back, a small automatic grin tugging at your own lips as you unbuckle your harness and stand to follow after him. Cautiously side-stepping past the werewolf - no, weasel - you move to stand beside him, Blackguard also having moved to the ramp on your other side.
“On the green-signal above us, we jump,” he orders to the crowd behind you.
“Sure, boss,” Blackguard drawls, dripping with sarcasm.
As the ramp continues to open, a small slither of the island below being revealed to you, you turn to look at the soldier, that involuntary smile brightening your face as you catch his eye.
“You ready?” he smirks, voice low as to attain privacy between you both despite the crowd gathering behind.
“As always,” your heart hammers eagerly, tearing your gaze away from that infectious, adventuresome light in his eye, “Though, if we are jumping to land from the craft, shouldn’t we have some sort of parachute-?”
You almost choke on your words as the ramp fully opens, revealing the landscape below you - or rather, body of water below.
Your balance falters, stumbling a few steps backward away from the ramp edge and the deep ocean below you!! The backs of your legs hit the bench, you almost stumble into the seat - but Flag’s hand reaches out to grip your shoulder to steady you before you can fall.
You feel dizzy as you gaze down to the water - even dizzier as you turn to look up at the man who is shaking your shoulder, gently yet firmly enough to keep you standing. His brow is cut sharply by a frown, though his eyes are wide in concern.
“Y/N?” his voice echoes through the pounding in your ears, his evident apprehension biting at your already chilled nerves, “Are you OK? Y/N?”
Rick gives your shoulder a slight shake, his fingers digging near-desperately into your numb skin as he encourages a response.
Your gaze has turned beyond him again, away from the crowd of eyes you can feel burning into you from the rest of the squad - equally as confused as one another. You are fixated on the water, shuddering with every wave that crashes.
“Y/N?!” the soldier almost shouts this time, desperate for an explanation as to why you are almost faint beneath his hold.
You snap your head to him, eyes sore as they begin to sting with tears.
“We have to-?” you try, swallowing hard as you attempt to form the words around the ever-rising fear, “I can’t- I need to.. to swim?!”
The Colonel loosens his hold on your shoulder slightly in surprise, watching worriedly as you inhale sharply after stuttering out the word.
“Yeah, uh,” he tries, clearly unsure what exactly is happening and how to best resolve it,” didn’t you listen to the plan?”
“No! I couldn’t!” you shout, uncontrollably harsher than you mean to be, “Harl wouldn’t shut up about that damned taxidermied beaver and breakfast burritos!”
“Sandwiches,” the unmistakable accented voice speaks up from the crowd, Harley stepping forward with another excited squeal, “Breakfast sandwiches!”
Rick shakes his head, ignoring the other woman as he continues to study your panicked expression, “What’s the problem?”
You inhale again, sharper this time as your gaze drops from him to the floor. Your cheeks heat, as they have done so often under his stare, the blush embarrassingly violent against the terrified paleness of your skin.
“We can’t use our powers?” you squeak, remembering hearing that during the briefing you couldn’t concentrate on just a few moments ago.
“Not until Waller gives the word,” Rick reiterates, though shaken by the sudden change in your attitude, “Y/N, what is it?”
“I can’t-” you sigh, closing your eyes and shuddering as you feel his hand drop from your shoulder, “I can’t swim.”
Rick only frowns, his mouth dropping open slightly in surprise. He is not entirely sure he heard you correctly, your whisper almost going unmissed by most in the aircraft. Well, not all.
“HA!” the young bleach-blonde stood beside you screeches out a bellowing laugh, “You can’t swim?!”
You cringe as you hear murmurs from the others in the aircraft.
Blackguard continues to howl, obnoxiously, “You have Hydrokinesis and you can’t swim?!”
There are a few other sniggers and incredulous chuckles amongst the crowd now, one you recognise to be Boomer - and then also the sound of Harley shushing them to be quiet, showing a clearly rare sign of sympathy. Your stomach drops.
Opening your eyes, you look up to catch Rick’s eye, seeing him already looking down at you with an unreadable expression - confusion, disbelief, irritation, concern? The elusiveness of his silence builds into anger inside of you. Your fists clench at your sides as Blackguard lets out another screech.
“You can’t… swim?” you hear Rick murmur, slowly as if trying to believe it himself.
You sigh, embarrassed, “I can control water, why would I ever need to?”
“HA! You’ve got to be kidding!”
You whirl around to face the obnoxious young man beside you, shaking with fury and fear.
“I’m not,” you mutter through clenched teeth. This only makes the youth laugh harder, clutching at his stomach.
“It’s a joke!”
“It’s not a joke.”
“You,” Blackguard steps forward and points a finger into your face with the hand not on his stomach, “can’t swim!”
“No, I can’t,” you say, a harsh hand coming up to slap his finger away, something that spoils his jubilance. He stands a little straighter, his face falling into a menacing grin as he glares down at you.
“You seriously expect us to believe that?” He says, voice lower and more cruel than before.
You lift your arms and push your palms roughly against his chest, accentuating every word, ”I. Can’t. Swim.”
Blackguard stumbles back slightly, shooting a worrisome glance to the close edge of the ramp, quickly regaining his composure. He squints his eyes as he steps close to you, the amused smirk never quite leaving his face.
“Prove it,” he growls, though still amused.
You guffaw, but before you have the chance to question his strange request - he pushes you.
“Y/N!” Rick yells as you trip over the edge of the open ramp, his stomach instantly sickening. He easily pushes Blackguard brutally to the floor in his haste to reach the edge of the ramp and search for you.
His heart leaps to his throat, almost choking on it. Rick watches you fall, plummeting to the ocean below. Watching for a moment, willing you to use your powers somehow in some way to protect yourself. He curses loudly through a clenched jaw hearing your body collide with the waves in a violent crash.
He can hear Waller screaming in his ear, not quite hearing her words but assuming her to be ordering him to stay put. To wait for the signal. To leave you for dead.
He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even think.
He jumps.
---
He finds himself whispering your name amongst the chaos, almost like a prayer. Rick has never considered himself a religious man, not after the things he has seen. The things he has done. But it is worth a try now, right? When you are cold and limp in his arms, limbs splayed across his lap and sand sticking to your wet skin.
His hand remains by your neck, eagerly pressed against the faint pulse beating there, somewhere close to the bomb so cruelly implanted into it when you had first met all those years ago. Things were so different then. He would not have cared for, let alone cradled, you-
Another explosion goes off somewhere behind him, forcing the soldier to duck his head and cover your body with his own. Debris scatters around you both, Rick gripping onto your jacket and legs, easily able to tuck you into him as closely as possible and avoid any more harm. A flaming pile of metal lands close by, a remnant of the aircraft you had both not so long ago been standing inside. He shuffles closer to it, you still being held securely onto his lap as he maneuvers over to sit beside the flames. He has to get you warm, the icy touch of your skin chilling him to the core. He removes his hands from you just for a moment to remove his jacket. Though wet from his dive after you, he places it around your upper body, hoping the extra layer will help.
“Come on, L/N,” he pleads once more, voice muffled by the chaos around him. Flag grips the jacket around you, clinging desperately, “Please, Y/N… Please…”
He lowers his forehead to touch against yours, body shaking as gunfire surrounds the pair of you. He can hear Harley cackling with glee as she fires another bazooka flare, the whipping of Harkness’ boomerangs as they slice through the enemy’s necks, the spluttering of your cough-
You’re coughing! Body convulsing in his lap as you push against him. His head snaps up, seeing your wide-eyed gaze meeting his as water drips out from your lips. Rick has no time to feel glee as concern floods his nerves, pulling you to sit upright against his chest as you continue to cough. He rubs a hand along your back, willing the air to return to your lungs. After a moment, he feels you collapse back against him, panicking for the briefest moment that you have once again fallen unconscious before he sees your eyes turn up to his from where your head now rests on his shoulder.
“Y/N,” he breathes, almost wincing at how pathetic he sounds. But he doesn’t care. You’re still here. You’re still with him!
“Ri-” you choke on some more water, then reach a shaky hand up to wipe at your mouth, never removing your gaze from him, “Rick?”
He allows himself to smile, gripping his jacket around you tighter. You return the grip on his arms, pushing yourself further into his hold to stabilise yourself.
You continue to catch your breath, something rather difficult with the soldier looking at you with that something in his eye again. You copy the movement of his chest against your back, your own rising and falling in pattern with his until your breath returns to a more controllable pace. Your shaking soon subsides, the heat rolling from his body sparking your skin alight. You both sit there for another moment in silence, looking at the other - both unsure what to say, both acutely aware of the anarchy existing around you, both intentionally blissfully ignorant as you bask in the feeling of the others’ arms.
An explosion resounds somewhere to the side of you, shaking you out of your bliss. Rick subconsciously pulls you tighter towards him, you don’t resist. Both too weak and too greedy for his touch to even want to try.
“You pulled me out?” you croak.
He nods, biting his tongue. What does he even say now? How terrified he felt when that bastard pushed you out of the aircraft? How sickened he was hearing your body collide with the water? How he almost drowned himself in his frenzy to recover you from the water? Risking the mission to get you to relative safety? That he might even lo-
“Thank you,” you exhale, his thoughts ceasing and heart seizing as you blink slowly, a slight upward turn to your lips as you nuzzle gently into his neck.
Another explosion. Harley cackles again somewhere in the distance.
You tense in his lap, suddenly reminded of the others you had been sent on the mission with. Harley, Boomer, Javelin guy, the Weasel. Reminded of-
“Oh! That dickwad!” you seethe, water spitting from your mouth as you move to stand, “Where is he?! When I get my hands on him-”
“He’s already dead, Y/N,” Rick informs you as he tighten his grip to prevent you from moving, knowing you refer to the man who pushed you from the aircraft, Blackguard, “Had his face blown-off.”
“Damn,” you exclaim quietly. Rick is unsure whether you are expressing shock at the brutality of it or disappointment at the stolen opportunity to get revenge.
The Colonel tries to contain his fury now that you are conscious, but can’t help himself from shaking his head disappointingly as he asks, “Why didn’t you help yourself?”
“What?!” you exclaim, pulling away from Rick slightly to stare incredulously at him, “What are you-”
“You could have died, Y/N!”
“It wasn’t my fault! That asshole-”
“You could have used your abilities! I’ve seen what you can do!-”
“I was scared!” you shout, voice trembling. It silences the soldier. He just looks at you, eyes softening in immediate understanding and regret for his misdirected outburst, “I was scared and I panicked and it is humiliating and- and if it wasn’t for you…”
Rick nods, understanding and not wanting to think about what could have been if he hadn’t acted so fast. You exhale.
Another moment passes, neither saying anything.
“So, what now, Colonel?” you say, your head tiredly rolling back onto the man’s shoulder - your burst of anger having drained most of your limited energy. However, the sound of gunshots and yells around you snap your head back upright, forcing you to attempt to get to your feet, “We should help the others! The mission-!”
A tug at your arm pulls you back down into the soldier’s unmoving lap, his hand slipping into yours and the other moving to rest on your hip.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“What?”
He swallows, looking down to where your hands are entwined between you. His voice bubbles with regret, “I should have stepped in. It should never have gotten that far. He should never have- I should never have allowed that to happen to you.”
“Rick-”
“I was too busy thinking about Waller,” he frowns, lost in his thoughts as his hold tightens around your hand, “Why would she not have included it in your file? She knew it could sabotage a mission. Why send you on this mission knowing that in the first place? You've done enough, proved yourself on dozens of occasions now! What’s her plan? Why would she-”
“Because she’s a bitch.”
Rick splutters, his face unwillingly splitting into a grin as he snaps his gaze to that mischievous glint in your eye he has become so fond of. You fight off a smirk of your own, raising an eyebrow, “Am I wrong?”
Rick doesn’t answer, knowing the woman is listening to and watching their every move. He has already acted too irresponsibly- no, sentimental - no! That doesn’t sound fitting either. He has already pissed Amanda Waller off already tonight, putting his own interests and impulses before the mission plan. He knows he will live to regret it later, she is not exactly a forgiving woman when it comes to disobeying orders. Waller is a tyrant like that - not that he would ever refer to her as such aloud.
“She put a bomb in my neck and has threatened to blow it every day for four years. It is no secret that evil hag wants me dead,” you quip.
Rick knows you are right. And the thought infuriates him. He holds onto you a little tighter. So no, perhaps he will not live to regret it. Waller, do your worst.
“Where’s my comm?” you suddenly ask, looking around the sand from your position on his lap.
“It was damaged in the water.”
“Gimme yours,” you order, and he does so, pulling it out his ear and handing it over.
You hold it up to your mouth, locking eyes with Rick and smirking as you speak into it, “Nice try, Mandy. I'm still standing.”
And with that, you throw the comm-piece into the burning debris beside you.
“Now, on your feet soldier,” you say, groaning with the strain as you begin to stand. Rick almost reaches out for you again to pull you back but resists, the yells of the squad around you dragging him back to the harsh reality of the situation. You reach a hand down for him, which he takes as he rises to stand beside you.
Reaching back down to the sand to retrieve his gun, surprisingly un-water-logged, he hears you snigger.
“What?”
“So, you’re a strong swimmer?” you grin, a mischievous arch to your brow that has Rick raising one of his own, “Must be to have pulled me out.”
“Get to the point, L/N,” he says, untrusting but curious.
“Maybe you should teach me,” you say as you take a few, slow steps closer to him, “All the different forms and positions…”
Rick stays quiet, both unwilling to fall into the trap of some sort of tease yet also hyper-aware of how close your chests are now you have moved to stand in front of him. You see his eyes squint distrustfully as you begin to extend your arm, your hand brushing slowly against his arm as it rises to his shoulder, then his neck, barely skimming the skin. He finds himself drawing, if possible, closer - eager for your touch.
“Doggy-paddle, front-crawl,” you list slowly, your hand eventually resting against his jawline, thumb glazing across his open bottom lip, “breast-stroke-”
The soldier blinks, eyes now blazing as he stands, frozen.
You stroke your thumb back down to his jaw. Your hand then moves along his neck, around to the base of his hairline, fingers slowly raking upwards to his scalp.
He swallows. Hard.
Rick can feel your breath on his chin as your other hand follows the same pattern, slowly moving from his jaw, to the sides of his head and to the base of his neck.
He represses a shudder. Only stares at you, entranced.
Your hands languidly move from the back of his neck to his jaw again, thumbs stroking his cheeks before you remove your hands from his face entirely.
The soldier blinks. Blushes.
You smirk, holding your now wet-again hands between you both. His own hands remain tightly around his gun, barely restrained from reaching out for you. He watches as you begin to move your fingers, languidly, the water droplets collected from his face dancing along your palms, vibrating with an unseen energy only your vitality can produce.
Your smirk turns into a grin, the water now circling fluidly in the air around your palms.
It is just as beautiful as the first time he saw your powers, Rick thinks. Just as beautiful as the first time he saw you.
“Come on, Colonel,” you say with a smile, turning to face the chaos of the beach. He nods, his own expression falling into an eager smirk, raising his gun in preparation, “Let’s have some fun!”