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sheena-is-a-punk-rocker · 5 months

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Sometimes a family is a girl, her pet rat, a traumatized soldier, and his feral girlfriend

Got a prompt over on AO3 that was basically just Sebastian being Rick's lil buddy and it turned into Rick and Harley accidentally adopting Cleo and Sebastian.

Rick jolts awake at the sound of a soft knock on the front door. He can just make it out over the sound of the torrential downpour that’s going on outside. The knock gets louder. Harley stirs beside him but doesn’t wake.

As a precaution, he grabs her baseball bat from the corner of their room and goes to answer the door. He cracks it open, bat hidden behind the door, and is shocked at what he sees.

Ratcatcher Two is standing out in the hallway, soaked to the bone and shivering. She’s got Sebastian the rat cradled in her hands.

Before he can say anything, Harley comes up and wraps her arms around him from behind. “Who’s at the door, baby?” she asks sleepily.

“Uh… It’s Cleo and Sebastian.”

“Hmm?” It takes a second for her brain to catch up but suddenly she’s wide awake and shoving him aside. “Oh my god! Get inside, hun, you must be freezing!”

Cleo sniffs and tells them, “I had to leave my living situation—it was becoming dangerous. We didn’t know where else to go. Sebastian figured out where you lived a while ago, Colonel Flag, since you saved him from Peacemaker.”

Sebastian waves from his spot in Cleo’s hands and Rick awkwardly waves back. It’s true that they’d saved each other back in Corto Maltese but it still feels weird to be waving at a rat.

He can hear water running and then Harley’s back. “C’mon, sweetie, let’s get ya into the shower so you can warm up. Towels are on top of the toilet and I got dry clothes for ya when ya get out.”

Once Cleo silently slips into the bathroom, she turns to Rick and says, “Baby, I love you but you’re absolutely useless right now.”

“Right, sorry. Lemme get the couch set up for her.”

Harley helps him wrangle a fitted sheet over the couch and stack several blankets and a pillow on top of it. Once that’s done he goes into the kitchen to make some quick breakfast sandwiches—his specialty. He even makes a tiny one for Sebastian.

He brings them out to the living room and he sees Cleo sitting on the couch with Harley. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy pajama bottoms. He can hear her saying, “I had to get out of there. We were fine until it started raining and we couldn’t find anywhere dry to sleep.”

“Well you’re stayin’ here as long as ya need to.”

He sets the sandwiches on the coffee table and Sebastian immediately starts eating his but Cleo looks wary. “C’mon, eat up. You must be starving.”

She reaches for the sandwich and takes a small bite. “Thank you, Colonel Flag.”

“Please call me Rick.”

He goes to the bathroom to clean up the wet towels and hang up Cleo’s soaked clothes, figuring that she doesn’t want an audience while she eats.

Harley’s tucking her into bed on the couch when he gets back, Sebastian fast asleep on the pillow next to her head.

She creeps back over to him, flicking the lamp off and bathing the apartment in darkness. They stand there and watch the pair for a second. She leans against his side and sighs, “Can we keep her?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, we can keep her. C’mon, let’s go to bed, Harls.”

----------------

Cleo awakens slowly from the best sleep she’s ever experienced. It takes her a second to recognize her surroundings but then she remembers last night. She stumbles towards the sound of voices and the smell of bacon.

“Sometimes I wish I had two of ya,” she hears Harley say.

As she walks into the kitchen she vaguely registers the couple wrapped up in each other’s arms as Harley sips from a coffee mug. “Why do you want two Colonel Flags?” she asks sleepily.

Harley promptly spits her coffee all over Colonel Flag, which immediately wakes Cleo up. Had she said something wrong? He’s now blushing furiously, which just confuses her more.

“I’ll tell ya when you’re older,” Harley manages to wheeze out once she’s done coughing.

Oh. Oh! That explains a lot.

Colonel Flag excuses himself so he can change his shirt and Harley busies herself with getting a plate down from the cupboard and loading it up with scrambled eggs and bacon. She sets it on the table and says, “Dig in!”

Colonel Flag comes back with a dry shirt on and says, “Okay, so we’re all just gonna forget the last two minutes and focus on finding Ratcatcher Two here a place to live.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay, Sebastian and I will be okay on the streets again.” It’s really all she’s ever known besides the four walls of a prison cell.

“Fuck that!” Harley says. “Sweetie, we can’t in good conscience just let ya be homeless again.”

“Why?”

“You… you literally told me you got threatened with a knife yesterday, hun.”

“Oh well we’re not gonna go back there obviously.”

She’d been squatting at the old orphanage with a group of homeless teenagers and that had been working out fine for the last month. That is, until things turned violent when one of them got too high and had a bad trip.

She doesn’t argue this time when Harley insists that she needs to be off the streets and that she thinks there’s a few units available in their building.

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Cleo trails behind the couple as they make their way down to the leasing office. Her heart is pounding and she’s trying to keep her breakfast down. She already knows she can’t afford a place in this building—she doesn’t even have a job. She’s been resorting to petty theft to stay afloat but hasn’t tried anything big like a bank robbery again. The last thing she wants is to get thrown in jail again.

The property manager—a balding man in an ill-fitting suit—eyes the three of them as they approach. Cleo hangs back in the corner while Colonel Flag and Harley stand there imposingly.

“So, here’s the deal,” Harley begins. “Our friend Cleo here is lookin’ for a place to live. Got any openings?”

He snorts. “Sure, but I highly doubt she can afford them.”

She can feel her face heating. He’s certainly not wrong. She clutches Sebastian tighter, who squeaks at her soothingly.

“How much?”

“Fifteen hundred.”

“Nah, that ain’t gonna work. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna rent a place to her for three hundred a month, no more than that.”

“Do you know how much money I’d lose if I did that? I’m already renting to you two assholes practically for free!”

“Ya say that like I’m supposed to give a shit. Listen, we’re the reason you don’t have more supervillains crawlin’ all over this place but if that won’t persuade you, I got a baseball bat with your name on it.”

The property manager pales and manages to stammer out, “Ah, I think I do actually have a unit. But, uh, it won’t be available ‘til next month.”

“Perfect!” Harley chirps. She turns to Cleo and throws her arm around her shoulders. “Looks like you’re stayin’ with us for a couple weeks!”

As they’re leaving the property manager’s office, Harley remarks, “Ya know, I think that License to Kill shirt I got ya for your birthday really helped our case.”

Colonel Flag sighs and says, “Harls, we really need to do laundry.”

“Not it!”

The couple continues to bicker about whose turn it is to do laundry as they make their way back to the apartment.

“I could do it,” Cleo pipes up from behind them. It’s the least she can do to thank them.

They immediately stop arguing and turn to look back at her. In unison, they say, “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

Harley elaborates, “You’re our guest, hun. We’re not gonna make ya do chores. Especially because it’s his turn to do laundry!”

Colonel Flag pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Harls, we’ve been over this. I gave you a break last week because you were hungover. It’s your turn!”

“Most of it is your laundry anyway!” Harley whines.

“Because you keep stealing my shirts!”

“… Okay, ya got me there.”

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Cleo wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when she knocked on Colonel Flag’s door. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see him living with Harley Quinn, after their epic love confession in the ruins of Jotunheim. What she was surprised to see was just how domestic the couple’s life had become.

Over the next few weeks she listens to them bicker like an old married couple about some of the stupidest things but she also sees the way Harley comes up behind Colonel Flag for a hug every night while he cooks dinner, and how she’s always making sure he’s taken his meds at bedtime, and the way he carries Harley to the couch when she’s complaining of cramps and just wants to lay on the couch and eat raw cookie dough all day.

He’s even carried Cleo to the couch once when she embarrassingly fell asleep at the breakfast table—she really doesn’t function well early in the morning.

She’d woken up with her head on Harley’s lap and the TV volume on low.

“Mornin’, sweetie! Sleep well?” she’d chirped, just as Colonel Flag was carrying her abandoned breakfast plate over to the coffee table.

Having been homeless or in prison her whole life, she essentially needs a crash course in being a functioning adult in society. She’s never opened up a bank account, learned how to cook, or had a job.

The first order of business is opening up a bank account, which Harley helps her do. Ten thousand dollars magically appear in said bank account the next day and Cleo doesn’t question it. It’ll give her a nest egg to live off of until she figures out the whole job situation—if she even wants one, Harley comments. Being a criminal is a perfectly respectable career, in her opinion. Cleo needs to think on it.

While Harley is dragging her all over Gotham to various stores so she can buy things for her new apartment and clothes and other necessities, Sebastian is having the time of his life with Colonel Flag. It warms her heart to see them interact. Sebastian helps with the cooking and every Friday they watch football together.

“Baby, we’re gonna borrow the d-bag truck. Where’re the keys?”

“Stop calling it that,” Colonel Flag deadpans, without even taking his eyes off the TV. He rummages around in his pocket and tosses the keys over his shoulder, Harley catching them easily.

“Why do you call it a d-bag truck?” Cleo asks as they make their way to the building’s parking garage.

The car they stop in front of is a massive black pickup truck, and suddenly the moniker makes sense.

They come home from furniture shopping three hours later to find the boys sulking.

“Did your sportsball team win?” Harley asks.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Sebastian squeaks indignantly in agreement.

It’s with a mixture of sadness and hope that she receives the keys to her new apartment on the first of the next month. This place has become home for her. She’s never felt safer or more cared for than she has in the last few weeks. She’ll miss watching movies on the couch with Harley and watching Colonel Flag and Sebastian cooking together. She’ll even miss the couple’s constant bickering about who’s responsible for doing laundry (somehow the answer always seems to be neither of them).

The sadness doesn’t last long though. She’s been moved in for two days when the couple shows up on her front doorstep, inviting her over for family dinner, as Harley puts it.

She ends up at their place every Tuesday and Saturday night for dinner going forward.

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thatgirlwithasquid · 2 months

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fanart for “No one makes a better egg sandwich than Sal, but Rick’s are pretty damn close” by Sheena_Is_A_Punk_Rocker on AO3

‘ ‘ He takes a good look at her while she's busy with her food. She's changed into pajama shorts and one of his t-shirts—the yellow one with the bunny on it that he'd gotten in Corto Maltese. Her hair is loose and her face is free of makeup. Rick doesn't think she's ever looked more beautiful. ’ ’

#quinnflag #harley quinn #rick flag #fanart #this is the—what?—fourth time ive drawn fanart for a fic i read?#maybe fifth #idk #anyway #this moment would not leave my brain. its super cute :)

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drabbles-mc · 9 months

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How It Goes

Rick Flag x Harley Quinn

Summary: After everything that the two of them had been through together, Rick starts to realize that maybe he's in over his head a little more than he originally thought.

Warnings: 18+, language, mentions of blood/injury, arguing/light angst, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: The way that this fic started because I found a dialogue prompt that I really liked for these two and then I didn't even end up using the prompt in the fic. 😂😂 Oh well! We out here regardless lmao

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

The last thing that he wanted to do was try and carry her back to the heli-carrier that was going to get them all home. But looking at her, he knew that there wasn’t going to be much of another choice—there was no way that she was going to be able to walk. Her one thigh was torn right through by two bullets, luckily ones that didn’t hit any vital arteries. And sure, he could’ve tried to make her limp along, but he never would’ve heard the end of it from her and everyone else.

Although as he walked down the street with Harley draped over his arms and her arms looped around his neck, he realized that he wasn’t going to be hearing the end of this either.

“Why don’t we do this all the time?” she asked, laughter in her voice despite the makeshift tourniquets wrapped around her thigh that were keeping her from bleeding out.

“Because you don’t get shot like that all the time,” Rick muttered as he carefully stepped over some of the debris that was littering the street. As soon as he said it, he saw the expression on Harley’s face shift and he corrected himself. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Too late!” She paused, going back and forth between looking around as they retreated, and looking at Rick’s face. It was a mixture of focus and annoyance. More of one of those than the other. “Who knew you were so chivalrous, Flag?”

He didn’t dignify the question with a response. Lucky enough for him, before Harley could keep going, he was walking up the ramp onto the helicopter. The thought crossed his mind for a moment, because he could feel the way she was practically beaming up at him as he carried her, to just drop her into her seat rather than setting her down. He fought the urge, though.

“C’mon,” he grumbled, lowering himself just enough so that when he took his arms out from underneath her, it was a short drop.

“You gonna buckle me in, too?” she asked, dazed in a way that Rick was choosing to blame on the blood loss.

He took his seat next to her, blatantly avoiding eye contact as he strapped himself in. “I think you got that part under control just fine.”

He was staring dead ahead at the empty seat across from him as Harley buckled herself in. He pretended not to hear the fit of giggles that she was descending into, mumbling things more to herself than to him. But even with his attempt to make his thoughts louder than her voice, he still caught a few words here and there. For some reason, the post-mission banter among the rest of the crew just didn’t seem quite as loud as it usually did. He knew that he heard her say his name once or twice, and he chalked it up to her usual rambles, trails of thought that really didn’t lead anywhere in particular.

They were only a few minutes into the ride when he felt the weight of her head pressing against his shoulder. He tensed at the contact. Once he realized what it was, he panicked for a moment, wondering if she was just resting against him to bother him, or because she actually fell asleep, or if she passed out from the blood loss.

He turned his head just slightly, just enough to look at her. He couldn’t see her face well, but he could tell that she was still breathing. He leaned slightly, trying to get a better look at her expression. He saw enough to see that there was a tiny upwards curve to her lips. That was all he needed to see to be sure that she wasn’t dying against him like that.

“All those muscles,” DuBois spoke up from the other side of the heli-carrier, “and you’re still just her fuckin’ pillow after all this.”

Rick shook his head. He wanted to have a quip in return, but he knew that anything he said was just going to dig himself deeper into the hole that he was already in. Most everyone else on their crew would get distracted and move onto the next thing within a few minutes, and if not that quickly, they’d forget about it once they got back to Belle Reve. Not Robert, though, and Rick knew it. And it was annoying.

Instead, Rick shut his eyes too, leaning back against the wall behind him. He made sure to sit straight enough that his head wouldn’t drop and rest against Harley’s.

He woke her when they got back to the prison. She groaned, swatting him away like that would change the circumstances at all. Rick rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Harley. Time to go.”

“You at least gonna carry me again?” she asked, prying her eyes open.

“No,” Rick answered without hesitation as he undid the straps keeping him in place. “They got a stretcher for you.”

“You’re gonna come visit me though, right? When I’m all laid up?” Her usual grin was back on her face.

Before he could answer, give her the sarcastic remark that was resting on the tip of his tongue, the door opened and the medical team came to get her.

As she was carried off, she called back, “If I get a cast, Flag, you gotta make sure you sign it!”

Rick was shaking his head, grabbing his bags from the floor. He didn’t even realize that DuBois hadn’t gotten off the carrier until the man was talking right behind him. “Put a heart around your fucking name while you’re at it, yea?”

Rick shook his head as he shouldered his bag. “Congrats on ten more years off your sentence.” He walked towards the exit door, not bothering to turn back around as he asked, “How many does that leave you with again?”

He could hear DuBois’ laughter, and that was good enough. He walked in the opposite direction of the prison, knowing that he was going to have to go to HQ to talk to Waller now that all of this was over with. Wrapping up one thing and no doubt she was already going to have something else lined up. He wondered what the lag time between missions was going to be this time around.

When Harley came-to in the medical bay, she had no idea how long she’d been out. For all she knew, it could’ve been hours, or it could’ve been weeks. What she did know, though, was that her head hurt and every muscle in her body felt sore, stiff. Groaning, she started to pry her eyes open. She tried to bring her hands to her face, wipe the sleep from the corners of her eyes, but she only was able to lift them a few inches before they were stopped. The clinking of metal on metal sounded through the room, and she felt the cold pull of handcuffs against her wrists.

“God, even when I’m asleep?” she whined. “Come on, guys, that’s just not fair!”

She heard someone huff out a chuckle from beside her bed. “Don’t think they were convinced you weren’t faking.”

Her eyes popped open at the sound of his voice. Turning her head, she looked over at him. “Flag?”

He kept his eyes trained on the folder in front of him, but the smile that was slowly starting to creep onto his face spoke volumes. “Welcome back, Harley.”

“Did I die?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No. They just knocked you out.”

“If they knocked me out, then why,” she shook her wrists, causing the cuffs to jingle against the bed railings, “why did they—”

Rick silenced her with a look. All he had to do was flick his eyes over to her, eyebrows raised slightly, and she knew.

She laughed, head dropping back against the pillow. “I guess.”

He let his gaze drift back to the file in his lap. “How you feelin’?”

“Like I wanna touch my face, and I can’t.” She thrashed slightly against the mattress, the best she could do for a tantrum given the circumstances. “They can’t just give me one hand?”

“I’ve seen the damage you can do with one hand,” he argued.

“What are you even doing here if you’re not helpin’ me get out?”

Closing the folder that he’d been looking at, he finally leaned back and took a good, long look at the woman lying on the bed next to him. “Came to talk to the new team. Thought I’d stop in and see if you were conscious yet on my way out.”

She smiled, her previous annoyance with him instantly fading. “How long you been waitin’ there for me?”

“Long enough,” he responded sarcastically.

“Aw, you waited for me!”

He rolled his eyes. “Somethin’ like that, I guess, yea.”

She shimmied up as best she could, trying to get herself a little more upright even though the bandages wrapping around her leg felt like they were constricting her movement. “So, new team, huh?” She leaned her head back but still turned to look at him. “Where we goin’?”

“We?”

“Yea!” she chirped. “Next mission! Where is it?”

“Harley,” he shook his head, and for a moment it almost looked like pity crossed his face, “you can’t go.”

Her brows furrowed. “Why not?”

He nodded towards her leg. “Expectin’ me to carry you everywhere?”

“I mean,” she looked down at her bandaged leg and then back at him, “it would be nice.”

He laughed. “Ain’t gonna happen, though.”

“So you’re goin’ without me?” she sounded genuinely hurt at the mere idea of it.

Rick couldn’t believe that he found himself feeling bad about it. Things were so different now than they were the first time he met her.

“C’mon, Harley,” he said, his drawl shining through a little more, “you know how it goes—I don’t pick the team.”

“But if you did, you’d wait for me to get better before you go, right?”

He studied her face for a moment. Under different circumstances he would assume that she was just trying to yank his chain again. More slick commentary just to get a rise out of him. But as she was laying there gazing over at him, handcuffed to a hospital bed that they weren’t going to let her out of anytime soon, he couldn’t help but to think that she was being genuine. She was actually upset that she wasn’t going to be going back out into the field with him for whatever the next mission was.

“You know it.”

Her smile was small, but genuine. “Good. You know, you could tell Waller that she can’t send you out there without me. Who’s gonna keep you company, really, you know?”

Rick chuckled. “Trust me, I know.”

“You’re a real softie underneath all those muscles, aren’t you?”

“Harley…” his tone had a hint of warning to it, not that she’d ever heeded it before.

“I mean, look at us!” She motioned between them with her hand as well as she could with the cuffs binding her wrists. “You came here to hang out with me!”

“I didn’t come here—”

“And you never would’ve done that a few years ago when you met me.”

He sucked in a deep breath, knowing that he wasn’t going to win the argument against her. “No,” he conceded, “I wouldn’t have.”

She laughed at his agreement. A real laugh, not the fabricated ones she used to let out way back when he first met her. Not the same delirious giggles that she’d made on the way back from their mission when she was light-headed from blood loss. It was a genuine laugh, like she was really enjoying the little moment between them despite all of the circumstances surrounding them trying to make it impossible to find a good moment in the midst of any of it. If bullet holes and hand cuffs couldn’t strip her of her joy, Rick was pretty sure nothing could.

Even with the cuts and bruises, even with her hair in a mess because no one in the prison hospital was going to take the time to really do it right, do it the way that she wanted it done, she still looked good. Even without her makeup, her lipstick, even with all the chips in her nail polish, it still crossed Rick’s mind that he wouldn’t mind sitting there in that uncomfortable prison hospital chair for a little while longer.

That train of thought caught him off-guard. His eyes widened for a split second as he realized what he was thinking before he shook his head at himself and tried to focus on just about anything else.

“I’ll be good to go for the next one, at least,” she said, giving a definitive nod of her head.

“Sure thing.” He stood up out of his seat before gesturing to her bandaged leg. “They didn’t even give you a cast. You’ll be fine.”

“Means you can’t sign it, though.”

“I think you’ll manage.” He rapped his knuckles against the railing running along the side of her bed. “I’ll see you soon, Harley.”

“You better.” She flashed him a smile, feeling a fleeting sense of victory when he mirrored one back to you. He got a couple strides away before she piped up again. “Flag?”

He stopped, turning to face her. “Yea?”

“Be safe out there. You know, since you don’t got me watching your back.”

“No promises but I’ll try.”

The mission didn’t go smoothly, to say the least. They never did. That was the whole reason his team got assigned to things in the first place. If missions were easy, if they would be straight-forward victories, it wouldn’t be a Task Force X problem. It wasn’t as though when Harley was running missions with him they miraculously went well, but this was the first one he’d run without her and it seemed more hellish than usual.

He’d missed that somewhere along the way that the two of them had gotten good at working together. It was a far cry from where they were when they started out. As the weeks turned into months, he vaguely remembered being less and less bothered by her, by the work they were doing together. It was a slow shift for sure, because it wasn’t as though their jobs were pleasant ones. But things crept along so slowly and quietly that he had gotten taken for a ride he didn’t even realize was happening.

The last thing he wanted to do was tell her any of that, though. The entire chopper-ride back to Belle Reve all he could do was sit and stew in those thoughts. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the mission was complete, and most of the team was coming back alive and in one piece, all he had time to do was sit there and think.

When it came time to make the decision to either go inside Belle Reve or take off towards his car so that he could get back and wrap things up with Waller to go home, he didn’t know which direction to go in. He was exhausted, and clearly not thinking straight, so maybe whatever would get him home faster would be best. But he also found himself wanting to go and check on Harley, no matter how stupid it seemed when it spelled it all out.

The decision was made for him when his phone started to ring, Waller’s name flashing across it. He turned and started to walk towards his car as he answered, saying an unenthusiastic, “Yeah?” into the phone as he walked.

When he saw Harley next, it was weeks later, and she was all patched up like nothing had ever even happened. She strolled onto the chopper with her bag slung over her shoulder, all decked out in red and black like a few weeks before she hadn’t been shackled to a hospital bed.

“Got to pick this team then, Flag?” she asked with a laugh as she dropped her bag to the floor between the two rows of seats lining each side of the heli-carrier.

And just like that, it all came rushing back. In the weeks away, he told himself that he was just too tired and overemotional, that he was letting his very normal concern for a teammate who got shot turn into something that it wasn’t. Chalked it up to some sort of reverse Stockholm Syndrome. He told himself that some time away, a somewhat decent sleep schedule, and not being shot at for a bit, would get his mind right and he would be able to keep his head on straight. And it was working when he didn’t have to look her in the eyes and hold a conversation with her. Now he had to again, and all of the lies that he had been feeding himself came to a screeching halt.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head and hoping that his expression was as neutral or as unamused as it usually was. “You know that’s not how it works.”

She rolled her eyes but she was still smiling. “You gotta get better at lying. At least to make me feel better.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before gesturing to the empty seat. “Park it, Harley.”

She gave a fake salute. “Whatever you say, Colonel.”

They were dropped down into the thick of it, just like always. The only ones who had even a sliver of their shit together were Rick, Harley, and DuBois, as per usual. Not that they ever really gave each other that kind of credit out loud.

Harley huffed, resting her head back against the wall that she and Rick were both pinning themselves back against, just out of reach of the bullets flying in their direction. “Oh, fuck this,” she snapped. Reaching across Rick’s torso, she grabbed the gun from his hand, one that was much larger than the handgun that she always carried with her.

Rick’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he realized what she was doing. “Harley!” he yelled, like that was going to do anything to stop her.

Harley was already around the corner and shooting before Rick even finished calling out her name. He might not have been successful in stopping her, but Harley was certainly successful in getting both Rick and DuBois to come out from their somewhat safe waiting spots and start doing some damage to get them to move forward. It was reckless, but then again that was their whole purpose, wasn’t it?

When they made it to the makeshift checkpoint, Rick immediately pulled Harley off to the side. He kept his voice low, but anger was dripping off every word. “You’ve gotta stop doing that shit!”

“What?” she sounded genuinely confused, her eyes flitting back and forth between his face and his hand that was resting on her shoulder.

“What?” he repeated back, eyes wide. “Going out there with no cover! You could’a—”

“We always could’a, Flag,” she cut him off. “That’s kind of our whole thing here.”

“You just got outta the—”

“Can you two find time to do this later?” DuBois interrupted, annoyance heavy in his tone. “We have a fucking mission, in case you forgot.”

Both Harley and Rick had looks on their faces like they had plenty to say in response to his comment, but there wasn’t time to get into it all. Instead, they took it on the chin and got back to business. There would be time for arguing later.

No one had to be carried back to the chopper this time. A few of the team were limping, worse for wear, but nothing that some bandages, painkillers, and down-time wouldn’t fix. Rick and Harley were walking side-by-side at the front of the pack. They matched each other’s strides, but neither of them were looking at each other. Outside of orders and confirmations, there had been no discussion between the two of them, no side-commentary like they usually had.

They didn’t look at each other the whole flight back to Belle Reve.

“Alright, Quinn,” one of the guards said when they got back, “looks like you’re checkin’ out of Hotel Belle Reve.” He laughed. “For now, at least.”

“Screw you,” she snapped, taking the small bag containing the few things that she had on her when she was arrested and brought in the latest time.

Rick’s angry expression shifted to surprise. “That was it?”

“That was it?” she sounded shocked, almost offended. “How many missions have we done? At ten years a piece?”

He frowned, not having thought about it that way with her. Mostly because she never brought up that part of it whenever they were working, unlike everyone else who was vocal about the fact that they were only doing what they were doing with Task Force X because of what they were getting out of it.

“Right.”

She started walking towards the gate, still in her mission getup. “I’m getting the fuck outta here! See ya!”

It took him a moment, but Rick eventually got his legs working alongside the rest of him and he took off after her. It only took a few long strides to close the gap, but even once he was beside her again, it wasn’t as though Harley was turning to look at him or talk to him. He didn’t take his eyes off her, waiting for her anger to falter for even just a brief moment so she would glance over at him. With the speed that she was walking away, they were going to run out of parking lot soon.

“Just gonna follow me? Wait for me to slip up again?” Harley asked, still not looking at him.

“No. Can you—will you just stop?” he snapped, exasperated.

She huffed, loud and dramatic, but she didn’t keep walking. Folding her arms over her chest, she turned so that she was looking at him head-on. She waited a moment for him to speak up and say something, and when he didn’t, she raised her eyebrows and shook her head slightly. “Well? What?”

He furrowed his brows, the words that came out of his mouth not the ones that he had been planning on saying when he first started going after her. “What’re you gonna do now?”

She rolled her eyes, propping her hand on her hip. “That what you came here to ask me?” She paused. “And since when do you care so much, anyway?”

He shook his head, knowing that he couldn’t really blame her for her annoyance at the moment. “Just never thought about it.”

She sighed. “What do you want, Flag?”

“About earlier—”

“I know, I know,” she cut him off, throwing her hands up in defeat. “It was stupid, reckless—”

“Will you just let me fuckin’ talk?” he snapped.

She recoiled, knowing it was a little deserved. “Fine.”

He took a breath, straightening himself out and getting himself together. “It was stupid, and it was reckless,” he said, making the same small gestures with his hands that he did when he was getting serious while they were out on a mission. “The whole reason we get sent out there as a fuckin’ team is so no one has to do cowboy shit like that.”

She shrugged. “It worked, though.”

He shook his head, looking up at the sky for a moment before looking back at her again. “Yea. But what if it didn’t? What if you got shot again?”

“Since when are you so concerned about everyone’s safety?” She scoffed. “They call us the fucking Suicide Squad!”

“Yea, but that doesn’t mean you gotta live up to the name. You almost died last time!”

“I was fine! They didn’t even give me a cast!”

Rick knew it must’ve looked ridiculous, the two of them descending into a screaming match at the edge of the prison parking lot. But he was too deep in it now to let it go. “That doesn’t mean I wanted it to happen again!” Sucking in a deep breath, he let his head hang so that he was staring down at the blacktop. “Dammit, Harley, why do you have such a problem with that?”

When he finally peeled his gaze up from the pavement and looked at Harley, the anger had faded from her face. She had a smug grin on instead. “You were actually worried, huh?”

“Don’t.”

“You were!” She laughed and gave him a light shove. “Colonel Flag. Big ol’ mush.”

He was shaking his head, like that would undo the heat flaring up in his face. “Alright. Enough.”

“You could’a just said that.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I was tryin’ to get there but you started yellin’ at me before I could.”

She pointed at him. “You yelled at me first.”

“You took my gun,” he retorted.

She laughed. “I did. I did do that.”

They stood there silently for a moment before Rick finally asked, “Now what?”

Harley tilted her head slightly. She made a big show of thinking, like she was weighing out a dozen different options. Rick was watching her expectantly, unable to even pretend he knew what she was going to say to him next. More often than not, he didn’t know what to expect with her. But he really didn’t expect her to step in and kiss him. She did, though. She had one hand resting against the side of his face and Rick froze up for a moment at her touch before he finally kissed her back.

When she pulled away, she was still smiling. She watched him try and sputter out a few sentences before finally putting him out of his misery and saying something first. “Figured it took you that long to just say you were worriedabout me. Who knows how old I would’a been before you got around to kissin’ me.”

The laugh he let out was choked with surprise. “Wow. I—alright.”

“Whaddya say, Flag?” She batted her eyelashes, like she didn’t already have him hook, line, and sinker. “We leavin’? Or you gonna make me walk?”

He laughed as he nodded, already reaching for his keys. “We’re leavin’.”

#suicide squad #the suicide squad #the suicide squad fanfic #suicide squad fanfic #rick flag #harley quinn #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag x harley quinn #harley quinn fanfiction #harley quinn x rick flag #quinnflag #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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webtrinsic1122 · 2 months

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Crying because in “The Suicide Squad” it cuts to Bloodsport telling Harley not to mope about them making a deal and not leaking the information to the press,

Meaning in that small walk together after defeating Starro, they discussed it and Harley wanted to follow what she knew Flag thought was right even if it meant she’d be killed or arrested again for it.

He had such an effect on her :(

#fanfic #ao3 #fanfiction #quinnflag #harley quinn x rick flag #harley quinn #rick flag

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isaacs-scarfs · 2 days

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Not teen wolf

But all I want it to be in a poly relationship with either Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley or Rick Flag and Harley Quinn.

#not teen wolf #but i love them #eddie diaz #evan buck buckely #buddie #911 abc #rick flag #harley quinn #quinnflag #the suicide squad

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poisonousquinzel · 2 years

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I've got a chance here. A second chance at sanity... How many people get that?

"Then we'll both sacrifice something precious today, huh, Quinn?"

Suicide Squad (2016) #6 - #7 - #8 | #6 & #8 Covers

#harley quinn #harleen quinzel #dc comics #tw blood #tw gore #this was so sad for her honestly #she seemed so happy to have another chance #at not having to hear him all the time #or seeing him. it must be awful. haunting. she can't escape her abuser but this?#this fixed it. it silenced him. it made her feel like her old self again. it made her feel Whole again.#but she gave it up to Save people #to save All of them. Even the ones who she'd rather let die she stayed and she made them better.#also love the imagery in the last panel with her sitting and her shadow looks like her jester suit #quinnflag #technically but thats not the point of the post akdjksks 💖#long post #rick flag

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romanogerslover · 2 years

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I'm really tempted to write a multichapter friends-to-lovers/slowburn fanfiction about Rick Flag and Harley Quinn.

But I'm not sure yet.

(Would also be a fix-it)

#harley quinn x rick flag #harley quinn #rick flag #quinnflag #dc movies #the suicide squad #dceu #dc #rick flag deserves justice #they did him so dirty #fanfiction #harley x flag

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esmethenightdemon · 10 months

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8, 11 and 18 for the fic asks!

thank you!!!

8- what projects am i currently working on?

i have a kastle fic i've been trying to finish for months but i haven't been able to 😭 i really want to though! i'm also plotting a puppet history s6 fic. haven't started it yet but i hopefully will be soon!

11- do i have specific playlists for writing fics?

usually i listen to my playlist for whatever ship it is i'm writing for because if i'm putting pen to paper that tends to mean i have it bad enough to have a playlist for them. works out for me too because normally i'm just writing a one shot! if its not that it's probably a playlist i have in rotation at the moment.

18- what's one of my favorite lines i've written in a fic?

LOVE THIS QUESTION. can i do more than one? i think i'll do more than one.

"you're engrained in me, harley quinn. i belong to you. not to june, or waller, or the U.S. government. you." -impulse control

"it occurs to lucy afterwards that whenever those touches happened, lockwood usually initiated, and when he did, they lasted longer. there were some exceptions on her end of course, but he must have been so overwhelmed because she lingered. he doesn't just want touch, he wants them to stay." -on the nature of touch

" 'you know miss page, most people ask when they want something.' 'not you. you take what you want.' " -from that goddamn kastle fic that would fix me if i ever finished it

#ask game #harlick #quinnflag #locklyle #kastle

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quinnflagg · 2 years

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PTSD

Rick Flag X Harley Quinn Spoilers for TSS 1,294 words

He remembered. Even if his cognizant memory couldn’t recall the subtle details of his death, his subconscious memory did, and boy did it hate him.

Intrusive thoughts ruined normal moments. Subtle nuances were welcomed when thought processes ran wild. He couldn't stand the person he became when left alone inside his own head for too long. Gideon inquired subtly – or not so much – if Rick was anything like their father; and while he argued all day and night that he wasn’t, there were some intriguing concurrences. Both suffered at the hands of someone they trusted with their lives, and both fought long and hard to survive only to fail. The difference was that his father wasn’t as strong or resilient, which led to his ultimate demise at 50.

These intrusive thoughts were always there, lurking below the surface. They could be triggered by small things; the mention of specific locations, the smell of rain on asphalt, or the sound of explosions. He found himself with a strange aversion to animal feed and avoided any kind of white porcelain tiles that he could. Even though the porcelain wasn’t as extreme as the others, the reminder of being stabbed was just too overpowering. He’d often find himself staring at the tiles, counting them to try and distract his mind. He was forever grateful that Harley’s favorite color was black.

Nightfall was a bitch. When the moon was hung high in the sky and stars twinkled like glitter on black canvas, Rick was often left to his own devices. Harley often slept at semi-reasonable hours, and he’d be left alone. Times like these called for woodworking in the garage, but then there were nights when the buzzing and whirring of the blades weren’t enough to quell that demon that raged under the surface.

Ada warned him this would happen.

Sure, the experimentation was successful; who didn’t like a nice victory lap at the end of the race? But this wasn’t what he’d call success by any means. Each death brought about mental deterioration, sometimes physical. Eventually, it would get so grievous that he wouldn’t be able to function anymore. Today he was dealing with the fallout of that moment his life changed forever, and today, it was in the form of a monster attacking his very psyche.

He stood in the dimmed lights of the garage, the sound of the tool whirring behind him. He was working on something special, something that kept him occupied and reminded him to stay human at all costs, even if his body felt inhuman. He tinkered with thoughts like he toyed with objects, picking them up and observing them, letting them linger for far too long, then tossing them elsewhere to be found later. This is what got him in trouble.

Eventually, he found himself sleeping on the couch. It was a calm night, the stars were glistening and the owls were singing their seductive song beckoning sleep. But Rick was restless. His body was curled in the fetal position on the couch, his hands digging into his ankles. Fingertips curled into his flesh, causing it to bleed. He whimpered, stopped, tossed onto his side, then whimpered some more.

He remembered. Even if his cognizant memory couldn’t recall the subtle details of his death, his subconscious memory did, and boy did it fucking hate him. The sound of fists against flesh rang out in his mind; the feeling of a fist to the gut, a kick to the teeth, the sound of shattering glass and grinding of metal against metal. The shaking of the building collapsing, or the feeling of grit under his hands…these were all very real things at the moment, and all of them were so indistinct that the thought of them in everyday life never crossed his mind.

But in his mind, at that moment, they were all attacking him. He could smell the blood as it gushed from his open wounds; he could hear the sound of moaning behind him, the children begging to be released. He could sense it all and the overload sent him into a frenzy. In this dream, he wouldn’t survive. In this dream, there was no news of a child or meet grandchildren. This dream was surely the one he wouldn't wake up from; the depressing reality of it all. The one he tried so hard to hide from.

He took a sharp breath, startled from his sleep, rolling onto the floor to try and get away from the assailant. The feeling of flesh against his was enough to keep him grounded in the moment he tried so desperately to escape from. He was practically clawing his way across the floor, the blankets still tangled against his sweaty frame. If his father had seen him like this, he'd call him weak.

He took another deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, still curled up under the coffee table beside where he’d fallen. He didn’t want to face her just yet. She had woken him from his nightmare for the third time that week, and all he wanted to do was ignore the fact that she was standing over him hoping for answers. “Sorry.”

She knew him well enough to know that he meant it. Kneeling beside him, she brushed a hand over his cheek gently, then pressed a kiss into his temple. “You were screaming again. Was it the bad place?” She learned not to say that name anymore; Johutenheim was banned in the household. It was only a small blessing they were the only two to talk about it. She pressed a palm gently into his bicep, biting her lip. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He couldn’t find the words just yet. Swallowing hard, he looked at his wife with a soft smile. “I’ll be okay.”

“Rick, you can’t even sleep in the bed with me anymore.” She finally retorted, finding the words equally difficult to say. Her heart ached for him, the fact that he couldn’t talk to her. “I miss you. I miss you.” He had really been through it; after being involved with a literal fuckin witch, watching her die, then breaking up with her…followed by this? She could understand why he was so messed up. Life-or-death situations came naturally to him, but this time he’d actually shaken death’s hand. The two were practically poker buddies now. “It’s like I left you behind in South America and some other man took your place.”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, staring at the simple silver band that was on his left hand. Whenever he was at work, he didn’t wear it, but at home was a different story. He’d always worn it with pride around the house and in safe spaces. “It sure feels that way.” A soft breeze blew through the room and caused him to involuntarily shiver. “You’re a therapist. What’s wrong with me?”

“You have PTSD. Rick, it’s no secret you went through life-altering trauma. I can help you with that,” She whispered softly, kissing the nape of his neck. “But you have to let me in, you know? I can’t keep begging for you to come home if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he whispered against her kisses. Turning his face towards her, he planted a gossamer kiss on her lips. So soft, that he almost didn’t feel it. Was he still dreaming? “I just–” Paused thought, deep breath, quiet contemplation. “I love you, I don’t want to hurt you. So for now, let me do what I have to do…even if it means sleeping alone for a while.”

“Fine, but when this kid is born, I want you back in the bed. So that gives you a timeline to work with.” She grinned, kissing his lips again. “Got it, Colonel?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

#rick flag #harley quinn #rickflag #harleyquinn #suicide squad #the suicide squad #quinnflag #quinnflagg

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bruciemilf · 1 year

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Fuck Suicide Squad, Rick Flag is alive and currently getting the softest spoken shovel talk next to Ivy from a very displeased Bruce over movie night

#i just want rick and bruce interactions they obviously love harley so much #rick: i truly don't think the woman who took on a warehouse of trained soldiers needs your protection #harley: no i like it. im dainty and fragile god damn it!!!#ivy pretends to tolerate flag when shes in fact in love with him but like hell she'll admit that. rick even less likely to #but its Fine. they'll love harley together #bruce wayne #harley quinn #poison ivy #rick flag #quinnflag #harley x flag #harlivy #text

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dcbicki · 2 years

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I am walking back and forth. Okay. THE SUICIDE SQUAD 2021, dir. James Gunn

#the suicide squad #tssedit #dceuedit #dailydcgifs #filmedit #filmtv #cinematv #dailyflicks #comicbookfilmsblog #fyeahmovies #moviegifs #quinnflag #**#dc comics #film: the suicide squad #ch: harley quinn #ch: rick flag

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sheena-is-a-punk-rocker · 5 months

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Rick and Harley only have eyes for each other, but unfortunately not everyone got the memo

Prompt was jealous quinnflag, sent in by @skyromaniac-05 and I 1000% used it as an excuse to write smutty quinnflag, because I missed it. This one is definitely getting shadowbanned (unless this hellsite surprises me) so I'ma post the link in a separate post so y'all can find it.

Rick’s minding his business on a couch at the former Black Mask club—sipping a beer and watching Harley having the time of her life on the dancefloor—when he’s approached by a random woman. She’s younger, blonde, and holding a glass of red wine. He ignores her at first when she plops down right next to him. She leans close and says, “Hey, I’ve never seen you here before.”

He snorts but doesn’t answer. He and Harley are actually here every Friday since it’s her favorite spot for dancing.

Instead of taking a hint, the lady doubles down on her efforts to engage him in conversation. “Oooh, I like your tattoos,” she comments—tracing her finger around the outline of the one on his right bicep.

He’s trying to think of the most polite way to tell her to back the fuck off and to stop touching him when he sees Harley stalking towards him—a scowl on her face that’s aimed at the woman who’s been trying to talk to him.

He internally breathes out a sigh of relief. Before he can greet her, she’s draping herself over his lap—crashing her lips into his.

He kisses back automatically—one hand going to her thigh and the other to the back of her neck to pull her closer. He vaguely registers whatshername (she may have told him her name, he wasn’t paying attention) storming off in a huff. He’s too busy to really give a shit.

They’re both breathing hard when they come up for air. “What was all that for?” he asks, once his brain is functioning again.

“She was all over you,” Harley pouts.

Oh. Oh! That… explained a lot.

He chuckles and slides his hand further up her thigh under her dress. He rasps in her ear, “Aww, Harls, you know you’re the only one I have eyes for, right?”

She bites her lip and nods. He grins and tells her, “Meet me behind the building in five minutes, darlin’.”

He watches her stand up and stumble towards the door on shaky legs. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

------------

Harley waits outside the club for what feels like an hour but is probably only a few minutes. She’s so horny she could cry and Rick’s taking his sweet ass time.

When he finally appears, she pounces on him immediately—legs going around his waist and lips crashing into his. She feels the rough brick wall on her back as he attacks her neck with nips and kisses—marking his territory.

“Fuck me!” she gasps.

He slides his hand up her inner thigh to her panties—which are soaked through. “Someone’s eager, huh?” he teases.

Oh god, she’s gonna bite his head off if he doesn’t fucking touch her already!

She’s cut off mid-thought when his fingers slip underneath her panties and drag through her wet heat up to her clit.

She moans loudly and encourages him to keep going. She’s so wound up that she comes embarrassingly fast on his fingers—but he’s not done with her.

She can feel his hands between their bodies as he fumbles with his belt buckle, and bites his neck—hard—to muffle her scream as he slams into her.

By the time they’re done, he’s as marked up as she is.

-------------

She’s giggling as they slip back inside the club. Rick’s hair is a post-fuck mess and she’s sure hers isn’t much better. She can’t help but smile smugly when she sees the bitch who was flirting with him earlier—scowling at the two of them while she sips her wine.

She makes a detour to the bathroom so she can straighten out her hair and has to bite her lip to suppress a moan when she sees just how marked up she is. God, she loves this man.

After reapplying her lipstick and putting her hair back up she heads over to the bar for another drink. She’s waiting for the bartender to notice her when she feels a hand grope her ass and a sleazy voice in her ear saying, “Hey baby, lemme buy you a drink.”

She tenses and grabs the hand that’s touching her. “I just want ya to know that my boyfriend is gonna kick your fuckin’ ass if you don’t back the fuck off.”

“She’s right, you know,” she hears, before Rick is shoving the guy away from her and then grabbing him by the collar.

Despite how dark it is in the club, she can see the guy’s face drain of color as he stammers out a half-assed apology.

Rick lets him go but watches him like a hawk until he sees him leave the club completely.

“You okay, Harls?”

“Yes and that was the second hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she says as she yanks him down by the collar of his shirt. “Take me home, right the fuck now, Colonel.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responds with a smirk. “But first we gotta close out our tab.”

Harley shrieks in frustration and Rick laughs, pulling her close and caressing her hip. “Patience, sweetheart,” he whispers in her ear.

They manage to make it back to their apartment building in record time.

But they don’t make it out of the truck.

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