(A/N):okay so this is like my first ever dc request and I’m kinda excited about it?
Request: Can you do an imagine where the reader and the suicide squad are on a mission and it starts snowing, so they have a spontaneous snowball fight? Thank you :)
Warnings: some swearing
Tags: @mcuimxgine (I didn’t know if you wanted to be tagged in the dc stuff so if you don’t want to you can totally tell me)
You hated these missions, these long, 24 hour stake outs all for Amanda’s amusement. Half the time you doubted the missions you were on were worth anything, you were just pawns in her little game of life and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
It was always a rather unpleasant experience, you’d rather work alone rather than a team of criminals and no-do-gooders but you worked for Amanda and this is what you were assigned to do. The only plus side to it all was the fresh air and the promise that if anyone stepped out of like you were permitted to punish them. But…you couldn’t really call this stepping out of line.
It’d been snowing for a few hours, just light little flakes, or so you had thought. After landing at the designated location you realized that it was much more than just light flakes, it was nearly a snowstorm out there. You sigh, raking a hand down your face as you stare out into the misty flurries, the white snowflakes completely obscuring anything within a five foot radius of you. There was no way in hell you were letting these guys go out there in that but you sure as hell weren’t going back either so you had to improvise.
“It’s storming out,” you called to everyone, efficiently gathering their attention. “And since I don’t trust any of you we’re going to wait in here until it dies down, capiche?” Digger opens his mouth to argue but you simply raise a hand, silencing him and all the other rather quickly.
“Step out of line I will jot hesitate to shoot you, do you understand?” Everyone stares at you before nodding, some grumbling stuff under their breath (primarily Digger and Harley). “You mess with each other I shoot you, do you understand?” Everyone nods again. “You act like the impatient little shits you are and I will not hesitate to shoot you, do you understand?” Everyone nods once again, glaring at you menacingly.
“Good, now sit tight, this might be awhile,” and awhile it was, for 2 hours the storm raged on, never letting up and to be honest you were getting rather restless. Sitting in a helicopter for hours on end was not an easy or fun task, especially when you were surrounded by lunatics. Thankfully the storm looked like it was letting up and so far everyone had been behaving.
You walk to the pilots seat, looking out over into the town your were ransacking or gathering Intel from as Amanda liked to call it. The snow had let up quite a bit and you could actually see some of the buildings in the distance.
“What do you want to do?” Rick mutters, looking to you with nearly squinted eyes. “You’re calling the shots here kid,” You sigh, contemplating your options once again. You could go out in the somewhat of a storm with a team of criminals or you could wait longer, risking everyone’s sanity and safety.
“Gear up, we’re going out,” Rick nods before turning on his heel, marching out to greet the team. God, you could only hope this was going to go at least somewhat okay…
You’d been out in the storm and cold for a good half an hour, trying to locate the location Amanda had given you but the more you walked the more perilous your mission became.
“God fucking dammit,” You curse, kicking at a chunk of ice. “Either we’re dumb as shit or Amanda gave us the wrong coordinates,”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Harley mutters somewhere behind you, twirling a pink strand of hair around her finger. You sigh, knowing that what she was saying was true, it wouldn’t be the first time Amanda “accidentally” gave the wrong coordinates to some location. You had always wondered why in the hell she gave you the wrong direction but she was above you and you had no right to question her.
“Rick, check the location for me one more time?” You give him a small smile and he in return gives you an affirmative little nod. You turn to the team, watching them closely, just to make sure they all stayed in line.
“You know we’re not just gon’ run off or some shit,” Floyd complains, glaring at you with the eye that wasn’t covered. “I think we learned our lesson the first mission,” You only smirk, shaking your head.
“It’s standard protocol,nothin’ I can do about it-” You’re cut short when a soft thud fills the air, resulting in a grunt coming from Chato, and an exclamation of ‘hey’. You whip around, only to find Harley standing a few feet away, her hands covered in flakes of snow.
“What?” She turns to look at you, that damn smirk upon her face. “I ain’t hurtin’ nobody, I just figured if we’re gon’ be here awhile we might as well make the most of it,” She gives you an innocent little look, an almost puppy dog expression about her face.
“Harley,” You begin only to be cut off as Floyd throws a snowball her direction, resulting in the latter letting out a little squeal and giggle of excitement.
“You two,” You sigh only to have the two part their separate ways, each one ducking for cover, already preparing other snowballs to throw at each other.
“You better put a stop to this,” Rick smiles as he looks up from whatever gadget he was working with at the moment. “Once they start they’re not gonna stop,” You smile back, a small chuckle leaving your lips, but as you turn to tell the two to stop you realized that Rick warned you just a tad too late. Every single one of the suicide squad members, including Tatsu herself, were in the middle of a snowball fight.
“Shit,” You mutter fondly, staring at the ragtag team of criminals as they all attempt to hit each other, most of the time failing completely. “Should we even try to-” You’re once again interrupted when a snowball hits your back, causing you to go completely rigid, your hands fisted at your sides as you turn to glare at the perpetrator, none other than Rick Flag himself. He gives you a little cocky smile, as he bends down to pick up more snow, already compacting it into a ball.
“Should we what?” You can’t help the cocky smile of your own as it overtakes your features.
“Oh, you are so going to get it,” You mutter, already bending down to pick up some snow of your own.
Somehow during the minutes of fighting you and Rick got pulled into everyone else’s little game, the Criminals against the good guys. It was a little ridiculous to have the suicide squad, the most elite team full of the most dangerous people in the world, to stop mid mission to have a snowball fight but you honestly couldn’t give a damn.
“(Y/N)? (Y/N) do you copy?” Amanda attempts to connect to some team member after having lost connection over half an hour ago, little did she know that both Rick’s and (Y/N)’s com’s had fallen out at the very beginning of this snow war.
“I am exhausted.” Simon stifled a yawn and set his tray of scones next to Penny before taking a seat himself. “I was watching him all night.” He nodded to Baz, who was sitting with a table of his campers across the dining hall, looking regal as ever. Not a hair out of place, typical. Simon raked a hand through his curls self-consciously.
Penelope followed Simon’s gaze and shook her head lightly. “You watched Baz sleep all night?”
“To make sure he wasn’t plotting.“
She snorted. “Plotting what?”
"I don’t know, Penny.“ Simon took a bite of scone. “Maybe different methods of killing me in my sleep. If he really wanted to, he could, you know. Then all he’d have to do is drag my body to the lake where no one would find me.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“He would, look at him, he’s ruthless.”
Penny rolled her eyes, which was her way of saying “shut the hell up, Simon,” and picked up her tray. “I’m going to finish breakfast with Agatha, we need to talk about activities for this month. Go find your campers and stop worrying about Baz.”
Simon swallowed his last bite of scone. Penelope was right, he needed to talk to his campers and make a game plan.
“See you later, Penny.”
They hadn’t even cared when Simon told them about sharing a cabin with Baz and his campers this year; no one batted an eye. Disconcerting? A little. As disconcerting as Baz being under the same roof as him? Not at all.
Simon rolled onto his side and glared towards Baz’s bunk. The stupid prat was already asleep.
“You should get some sleep, Snow,” Baz suddenly mumbled, making Simon jump. His eyes blinked open. (They glittered silver in the moonlight and literally snatched Simon’s breath away). “The first competition is tomorrow morning, wouldn’t want you to sleep through it.”
It really bothered Simon how it felt like he had to force himself to hate Baz at this point. He was a jerk. He had ruined Simon’s high school years. Why the hell did none of that seem to matter now?
Simon balled his hands into fists and rolled over so his back faced Baz.“Shut up.” He clenched his jaw. Deep breaths, Simon. He’s not a beautiful asshole, just an asshole.
He heard Baz chuckle softly.
"Is that the only comeback you have?”
“No. Shut the hell up.”
“Gladly. Goodnight, Simon.”
Simon’s heart gave a giddy leap. “Did—did you just call me Simon?”
Baz didn’t reply.
“Stop trying to steal my girlfriend!” Simon’s face is red hot.
They’re in their fifth year again, fresh faced fifteen year olds with their ill-fitting uniforms. Students gather around them, watching the fight unfold with curious eyes.
“Please, Snow,” Baz sneers. “I hardly have to try.” A few students chuckle, but he remains as stone faced as Simon is fuming. “Wellbelove practically delivered herself to me.”
Baz ducks away from his punch nimbly, but Simon isn’t as lucky. Baz’s fist lands a clear blow on Simon’s jaw and there’s a sickening crunch. Simon stumbles backwards, and goes down, down, down.
He lands in a pile of tangled limbs at the bottom of the stairs and instantly pops up, hand clutching his jaw. The entire student body around them erupts into a roar of laughter. Baz’s lips tug into a smile at the sight of him.
“Fuck off, Pitch!” Simon screams. He’s crying and something in Baz snaps.
He hates him. (He doesn’t hate him). He’s glad he hurt Simon. (He wants to apologize). He wants to kill him. (He wants to kiss him).
The lake was unbearably bright under the sun. Baz squinted against the light glittering off the lake’s surface and turned to face Simon. “My campers always win the canoe race, Snow. Don’t take this loss too hard.”
“You called me Simon last night. Also, shut up.” He was so concentrated on the campers paddling towards the shore, Baz was scared he was going to have an aneurysm. “COME ON ELI! ROW HARDER!”
“You must’ve been dreaming.” Baz rolled his eyes. His campers’ canoe glided through the water about twenty meters ahead of Simon’s, there was no possible way Simon would win. “Crowley, stop your screaming before you blow out my eardrums.”
“I wasn’t dreaming,” Simon snapped. “Come on guys! You almost have them!"
They didn’t almost have them. Baz’s campers were already heaving their canoe out of the shallow water and onto the shore.
Baz glanced at Simon. His eyes looked like the ocean before a storm, blue and deadly.
"Don’t look so upset, Snow, you should be used to losing by now.” Baz shifted his attention to his campers, who were struggling to pull the canoe up the shore. “Honestly though, it’s all in good fun.”
A muscle in Simon’s jaw twitched. He was absolutely livid. Not as livid as that time I completely humiliated him in front of our entire year, Baz thought with a twinge of guilt. Crowley, I really was terrible to him.
Baz studied Simon. He hadn’t changed much since high school; his curls still didn’t sit right; his freckles still outnumbered the population of Europe; he was still shorter than Baz.
He was still Simon.
Baz was Baz, still an asshole. Then why can’t I hate him anymore?
REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD HATE BAZ (since you can’t seem to remember that he’s a terrible person):
1. The entirety of high school
2. He’s a huge prat
3. Probably cheats at camp activities
4. Stupidly perfect
This time, Baz was asleep for sure, (or at least Simon hoped he was). He let himself look.
Moonlight slanted in from the window, falling onto his bed and lighting up his face in a soft glow. Baz’s bronze skin was washed silver and his dark hair almost glimmered. Simon imagined what he looked like when he stood next to him. (In his mind, he resembled something like a giant, squiggly mess).
Simon hated the way his emotions seemed to be locked in a civil war more than he actually hated Baz. One side chanted ‘kiss him’ while the other side screamed ‘push him into the campfire.’
Eventually, Simon fell asleep. He dreamed of boys with long black hair and faces chiseled from rock and grey eyes against caramel skin.