#ColonelRickFlag

[princessmisery666]

@deanwinchesterswitch mentioned the Diet Coke ads in a chat and it reminded me of this fic 🥰🤤

Breaking Point

Summary: Rick Flag is uptight and it’s abundantly clear he hates you. But loose lips, a mission gone awry and Rick having to save you leads to unexpected confessions that have consequences the morning after.

Warnings: mainly fluff, language, drink spiking, tiny bit of angst, enemies to lovers, bold/flirty reader.

W/C: 4.5k

Characters: Rick Flag, you (no descriptions of body type or ethnicity)

Pairing: Rick Flag x You.

Bingos: @anyfandomfluffbingo // @rickflagbingo Squares Filled:

Fluff - only one bed // “I dare you to kiss me.”

Rick Flag - Mechanic!Rick // “Good to know.”

Notes: Lyrics from Etta James - Breaking Point (I Just Wanna Make Love To You.) For the young'uns I've linked the ad below 😋.

Betas: @cockslut-padalecki - love ya babes // and @lacontroller1991 was kind enough to read through to give some feedback.

Graphics: pic found on google, title card and dividers made by me.

Master Lists: Main // AF Fluff Bingo // Rick Flag

The late afternoon Georgia sun blares down on the black asphalt, causing heat waves on the desolate back road with no sign of any other people as far as the eye can see. Of course that’s where your government issued SUV had broken down. You’d tried to convince Rick to take your flat top, but no he followed the rules, as usual.

But now here you were, smoke billowing out of the exhaust, even after the engine had been shut off and Rick bent over the hood attempting to fix it.

It was like a damn Diet Coke commercial. Sweat made his skin glisten, grease smeared his cheek and every time he swallowed a mouthful of water you’d watch a bead of sweat trickle down his throat into his shirt. The white t-shirt he wore was soaked through, it clung to him in all the right places and the sweat made it practically transparent. You wished he’d just take it off already, but he wouldn’t, because Rick Flag is wound too tight.

For as long as you’ve worked together he’s always been uptight. Never broke any rules, never deviated from the plan unless absolutely necessary and even then he grumbles about it all the fucking while. So when the black SUV broke down a hundred miles from your destination, you knew you’d never hear the end of it.

He straightens and puts his hands on his hips, lips pursed while he glares at the uncooperative vehicle as if his scowl will jump start it to life once again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t. He tilts his head back, and the sun shines down on him making the beads of sweat look like tiny diamonds are dancing on his skin, he brings the water bottle to his lips and the song from the commercial starts playing in your head.

I don't want you to be no slave

I don't want you to work all day

But I want you to be true

And I just wanna make…

“Hey, Colonel Y/L/N,” he calls out, interrupting your perfectly good fantasy.

You’d lost interest in helping a while ago and wandered into the line of trees to find some shade and a better angle to ogle your colleague. He lifts the hem of his t-shirt and bends to wipe his brow, giving you the quickest glimpse of his abs.

“Are you not an engineer?” Rick asks as if reminding you.

You were indeed the engineer, but you knew, even if you found what the problem was, you’d never get the hybrid vehicle working without the specific computer programme you didn't have with you.

“That’s what they pay me for,” you smile.

“So why am I the one sweating my ass off in the Georgia heat trying to get us back on the road?”

“‘Cause,” you say, strolling toward him, “you’d have made one fine ass mechanic in another lifetime,” you wink. “And I like to see you sweat.”

“Don’t make me write you up for inappropriate conduct,” he warns, wiping his dirty hands on a rag.

You roll your eyes. “Jesus you’re extra uptight today!”

“Ah fuck off,” he groans, throwing the rag onto the engine, “we’re screwed and you know it! We’re a hundred miles away from where we need to be and Waller is gonna have my ass ‘cause of it.”

“She understands cars break down, Rick,” you say, “if anything she’ll blame the tech guys for not running a full diagnostic check before they gave us the keys.”

He nods, but his annoyance is evident. “Answer for everything, right?”

You shrug, “pretty much.”

He smirks, fully knowing his remark will get under your skin, “except that time in Quebec.”

It has the desired effect and you want to slap him for bringing it up but that’s what he wants. A reaction. So you give him your own sardonic smirk. “It worked out in the end.”

“I forgot, you're laid back, don’t give a crap, go with the flow, Y/N.” It's not a compliment, it's a sarcastic assessment of your attitude.

“Better than being the highly strung teacher's pet.”

It’s not the first time you’ve had this particular fight and it always ends with Rick giving you the silent treatment, which is fine cause it means you won’t have to listen to him grumble about the plan going awry.

“It’s too hot for this shit!” you say and walk to the trunk.

“Where’re you going?” he asks, watching you grab your bag and head off in the direction you’d come from.

“We passed a town about five miles back,” you call over your shoulder. “I’m going to find a motel.”

“We need to wait here for evac.”

“Seriously, Flag?” you ask, spinning to face him. “We’re on a recon mission, the idea is to be stealthy, stay under the radar. The guys that are already there will have to do a double shift cause I’m not walking a hundred miles to get there, and it’s not like Waller can fly a chopper in and drop us off. I’m sure there’s a garage or a car rental place, we can get going again at first light tomorrow.”

He ponders for a moment and you can see he doesn’t want to agree with the plan, simply because you thought of it. But you don’t wait for him to agree, he doesn’t have to, you’re going whether he follows or not. He can explain to Waller why the team split up.

You're maybe fifty feet from the car by the time he jogs to your side, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Oh-five-hundred start,” he demands, lips set in a straight line.

“Sir, yes, sir,” you salute unnecessary, he doesn’t out rank you. In fact you have more field hours logged than him, a fact you like to rub in whenever the opportunity arises and you always make sure it does.

The motel isn’t exactly the Ritz but you haven’t seen any rodents or cockroaches so it could be worse, you guess. The clerk, obviously reading Rick’s hostile body language, explained, “there’s a cowboy convention over in the next town, so we only have one room left with one bed.”

You’d flashed Rick a look over your shoulder and he looked hella pissed, “you can always go sleep in the car,” you suggested.

“Whatever,” he said and left the office. You handed your card over to the clerk and offered an apologetic smile.

“I’ll flip you for it,” you said to Rick as soon as you entered the room.

“You can take the bed, if I can have the first shower,” he’d countered. It was more than fair trade so you’d agreed. But regimented as he is, he was in and done within ten minutes.

The water was hot and the pressure was adequate so you feel surprisingly refreshed after your walk back into town.

Rick’s at the small kitchen table when you exit the bathroom after your indulgent - longer than ten minutes - shower. He looks up at you but doesn’t comment on the tight jeans and simple white t-shirt you’re wearing.

Finally, the Diet Coke commercial fantasy is complete and you thank the Georgia heat for being unbearable enough that he’s not wearing a shirt. But as relaxed as he looks, shirtless and sockless feet kicked up on the table, he’s still in work mode studying surveillance photos. You shake your head but bite your tongue about reporting him for inappropriate attire while on a mission.

You go back and forth from the bathroom, repacking your stuff so you can sleep in as late as possible and not have to worry about packing in the morning when you feel his eyes stalking your back and forth.

It’s not until you’ve put your boots on and slip into your favorite leather jacket he finally asks, “where’re you going?”

“The bar across the street,” you tell him, putting some cash and your card in your back pocket.

“We’re working.”

“Our job was to watch the Michaelson’s house,” you spread your arms wide and spin in a full circle, “I don’t know if you noticed, but this isn’t the Michaelson’s house! So I'm taking a few hours off and going to get a drink. I’m buying if you’re brave enough to join me.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, and for half a second you think you may have goaded him into joining you but he shakes his head, “I’m good.” and he goes back to studying.

“Don’t you ever let loose, Flag?”

He sighs, frustration and a hint of disbelief you’d even ask the question. “Yeah, of course I do, when I’m back home with my buddies.”

“And when do you ever take time off to go home?”

Rick holds your gaze for the longest moment, doing the mental math of the last time he was home. He looks down at his lap and you pity him. “It’s been a while.”

You know why it’s been a while. He broke up with June. Rumours flew around headquarters around about the same time his demeanour changed and it solidified the gossip. After that, he kept himself occupied with work, taking mission after mission without a break. It’s that thought that makes you realize you don’t want to be that person. All about the job.

“Y’know what,” you say, “you can take the bed.” He looks up at you confused and you continue with a wink, “I’ll find someone else to bunk with.”

“Y/N, we’re on a mission.”

“Don’t worry, Flagster, I’ll be sure to sneak out and be back by five.”

He grits his teeth at the use of the nickname he hates and you take that victory with you as you head for the door.

“Y/N, that’s a dumb move,” he warns, “what happened to being under the radar?”

“I can be under the radar and under someone at the same time,” you wink over your shoulder, “I’m talented like that.”

“Y/N,” he calls.

“Either come with me and keep me out of trouble or rat me out to Waller, those are your choices.”

“You’re really fucking annoying, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, “and you’re really fucking boring. Don’t wait up, Dad.” And with that you breeze out the door.

Forty minutes later Rick walks into the bar, grumbling to himself about it being a bad idea. He spots you immediately, front and centre in the five rows of line dancers doing a simple square dance to a catchy country pop song. You’re wearing a brown leather looking stetson and he wonders which cowboy you’ve chatted up to get it.

He ignores the jolt of jealousy the thought invokes and finds a seat at the end of the bar.

“Club soda,” he tells the barman and settles in for a long night. He knows you’re not going to leave until you’ve had your fun, but he’s not going to let you have enough to be hung over tomorrow. And yes, okay, he wants to make sure you don’t go home with someone else. He tells himself it's for the good of the mission, he’s doing his duty by having his partners back but it’s a lie. After you left the motel room, the idea of you screwing someone buzzed around his head like a swarm of bees and the sting of envy grew too much to ignore.

He’s disappointed but isn’t surprised you don’t notice his presence right away. You're too busy having a good time, dancing and singing and you think he’s boring. So why would you even bother scanning the room for him when you never expect him to show up?

A woman you’ve befriended hands you a shot of something; tequila from what he can gather in the poor lighting and you shoot it back without a second thought. Your face scrunches when the bitter taste hits and you shake your head, tongue sticking out once you’ve swallowed.

Rick can’t help but laugh at the gesture and while he continues to chuckle, your new friend leans closer to whisper something in your ear.

Suddenly your gaze finds him and he raises his glass to you with a small nod of his head. You do a little excited skip and your face breaks into a smile before you rush toward him and his stomach flips that you seem genuinely pleased to see him.

He laughs watching you navigate the tables and people, a little unsteady on your feet and he questions how much you’ve had to drink in the forty minutes before he arrived.

You wrap your arms around his neck and smosh his face against your chest as soon as you reach him. “Yay, Rick is here,” you sing.

He laughs and manages to free himself from your too tight grip but it confirms his suspicion that you’ve definitely had your fill of booze and it’s time to rain on your parade. Then he sees the adorable goofy smile you have for him and it gives him pause. You’ve never looked at him like this before. It’s rare you even genuinely smile in his direction let alone look at him as if he’s just hung the moon.

“Y/N,” he says and watches as you sway unsteadily. He cups your face and dips to look directly into your eyes. Your pupils are blown wide, barely any color left and now he understands the dopey smile. “Fuck, have you taken something?” Even as he asks he knows the answer, you’re carefree and don’t give a shit but you’re not stupid. Before you can answer he continues, “who brought you the drinks?”

He scans the room to see if anyone is watching and he notices a hatless cowboy averting his attention elsewhere when Rick catches his eye.

“Motherfucker,” he spits. He throws some cash on the bar, and knocks the dumb fucking hat off your head before wrapping an arm around your waist. “C’mon, it’s time to go.”

You don’t put up a fight as he marches, part carries you back to the motel and he realizes it's the first time you’ve never fought him on something. You're always clashing over seemingly trivial stuff and he admits it's mostly down to him, but it’s easier that way.

“You awake, Y/N?” he asks as you stumble up the curb outside the room.

You mumble something incoherent and he scoops you up, bridal style for the last twenty feet or so.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lean your head on his shoulder. “Woo, where’d the floor go?” you ask in a sleepy whisper.

He laughs. It’s not funny that some asshole spiked you but the danger has passed. He’s got you and he just needs to keep an eye on you while you sober up.

“You have a nice laugh, Flag. It’s all floaty and sweet.”

“Oh someone’s floating, alright, but it ain’t me,” he says, managing to wrestle the door open without putting you down. He places you gently on the bed and kneels in front of you, checking your eyes again. The fresh air has knocked some sense back into you, your pupils aren’t as big as they were.

“You have really pretty,” you stare into his eyes and it seems the word evades you so you wave a hand around their general area.

He catches your hand and offers a suggestion, “eyes?”

You snap your fingers and smile, “eyes! You have really pretty eyes.”

“Good to know,” he smirks. Whatever they used to spike your drink has given you loose lips and Rick can’t say he minds this version of you.

“Well you have really pretty everything, eyes, nose, arms, abs.”

“Please stop talking,” he begs but his cheeks are tainted pink.

“Okay, well that’s wrong, not everything cause I haven't seen everything cause you won’t let me, but my imagination is pretty good, and oh boy have I imagined it.”

“Y/N,” he cautions and quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, “you gotta stop.” You mumble something he doesn’t quite catch and reluctantly he releases you.

“I’ve imagined that too, you gagging me…”

“Y/N!” he shouts and stands up. You stare up at him like a little lost puppy he just kicked and he hates that he gave you the expression, but he really can’t take your flirting anymore. “Stop it, seriously!”

He waits a beat to make sure you’re not going to fall then goes to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water.

“Why’d you hate me Rick?”

He doesn’t acknowledge he heard you, instead unscrews the lid, picks up your hand and pushes the bottle into it to make sure you have a good grip. “I need you to drink this,” he says.

You shake your head softly. “But it’s so much hotter when you do it.”

He feels his brow crease and you seem to have enough sense left to understand he’s confused.

“Earlier today, when you were fixin’ the car,” you elaborate, “or at least trying to fix the car.” he rolls his eyes, even under the influence of god knows what you can’t help but tease him. “You were all sweaty and had grease stains on your face and every time you swallowed…” your gaze filters down to his throat and he watches you swallow and bite your lip before you seem to remember you had been talking. “I was jealous of every drop of sweat that got to touch your skin and I so desperately wanted to lick…”

Your hand reaches out and your fingers follow the same trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt but before you can go any further he catches your hand and holds it still.

“Stop,” he demands.

“You really do hate me, don’t you?” you decide.

He shakes his head, very slowly to make sure the message registers and pronounces each syllable perfectly. “I don’t hate you.”

“Really?” you ask, brow raised high, “cause you’re always on my ass, arguing with me, undermining me, and don’t think I don’t know you asked Waller to replace me on this mission. You didn’t want me here.”

“That's true,” he nods in agreement and he feels guilty that you know that detail, “but it’s not ‘cause I hate you.”

“Then what is it?”

He sighs. “I’m not doing this, can you just trust that I don’t hate you?”

“Nope,” you pop the p, shaking your head and pouting like a toddler. “You hate me, I know it. I can feel it in my bones, and other places but that’s inappropriate conduct,” you sneer in a terrible rendition of his voice.

“Y/N, this isn’t the time or place and even if it were, what does it matter? You're so high, you probably won’t remember.”

“Then this is the puuuuurfect time and place,” you sneer, “cause if I don't remember you can go back to hating me.”

“Fine,” he growls. He hates that you're so stubborn and won’t let it go but as much as he hates to admit it, your logic is spot on. If you won’t remember tomorrow what difference does it make if he tells you? “I’ll tell you but I need you to lay down for me.”

You eye him suspiciously but concede because you really do feel sleepy. “I’m not letting you get away with this Flag.”

“I know,” he nods and unzips your boot, “I promise as soon as your head hits that pillow, I’ll explain everything.”

You slowly lower yourself to lay flat, “Okay, I’m down. Go.”

He chuckles but unzips your other boot and pulls it off. “I don’t hate you, it’s the opposite of hate actually. I like you, more than I should. But I’ve been down that road, office romances don’t work,” he says, gently tugging the sheets from under you. “But you flirt with me so much it’s getting harder to resist. That’s why I asked Waller to put someone else with me for this mission.” He readjusts your legs so they're tucked under the covers. “I didn’t want to be stuck in a small room with you for forty-eight hours with no one to distract me. So no, Y/N, I don’t hate you,” he admits, smoothing a hand down your cheek. “But I’m trying my damn hardest too.”

“That’s dumb,” you say, “you like me so you make out like you don’t cause you’re trying to hate me.”

“Exactly,” he laughs and shrugs his shoulders, “I didn’t say it makes sense. I’m just trying to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself from what?”

He drops to a seat on the edge of the bed beside you and gives a pitiful smile. “Heartbreak, I guess.”

“I’m not June,” you say and he’s not so sure he likes your loose lips anymore. “It’s not fair of you to tar me with the same brush just cause she broke your heart.”

“I know,” he sighs but doesn’t say anymore. Your eyes droop closed and finally he thinks you’re going to fall asleep and that this will just be a hazy memory tomorrow that hopefully you won’t be brave enough to mention.

“So in conclusion,” you start, voice riddled with the tiredness that you're fighting, “you don’t hate me?”

“I do not hate you.”

“Prove it.” You ponder for a moment, your drug-addled brain trying to think of a logical way he can prove himself. Then it’s like a light pings on and you open your eyes to challenge him. “I dare you to kiss me.”

He stares at you for the longest time, and he hates that he contemplates doing it. It wouldn’t be right. Not in the state you’re in. He knows it’s not what you meant, but he leans in and kisses your cheek. “I’ll kiss you tomorrow, I promise,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, “if you still want me to.”

You sigh heavily through your nose, “so boring, Flagster.” but your eyes are already slipping closed and you shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asks, ignoring the nickname he hates.

“Yeah, cold,” you say softly. “Keep me warm.”

That’s something he can do, so he walks around the bed to get under the covers on the other side and drags you back to rest against his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he can.

You can tell from the light seeping in at the edges of the curtains that it’s way past five when you wake up. But Rick’s arm is draped over your stomach and you can feel the rhythm of his steady breathing against your back. Why did he let you sleep in? There’s no way in hell Rick Flag forgot to set an alarm so why do the red digits on the clock on the nightstand read a little after seven thirty?

As gently as you can you turn over onto your back and Rick’s slumber is picturesque. It's the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him and it's an image you want to hold onto for as long as possible. His lips are slightly parted, no wrinkles of a furrowed brow mar his features or crinkle his eyes at the corners and it takes all of your willpower not to reach out and stroke a hand down his cheek just to make sure he’s real.

You're curious to know why he’s in the bed with you, not that you mind, but answers can wait. You can’t resist smoothing your hand down his arm that’s still over your stomach, but when your fingertips reach his knuckles you feel the broken skin and he stirs at the sting your touch must produce.

His eyes flutter open and god damn he’s pretty. No man has any right being that pretty and the song plays in your head again.

I don't want you to be no slave.

That’s a lie, you’d happily let Rick be your slave.

“Morning,” he mumbles and his slight smile seems hesitant.

“Morning to you,” you say. “Why are we still in bed?”

He shrugs one shoulder, “I told Waller you had food poisoning and that she’d have to send someone else to cover us. Figured you could use the sleep.”

He’s covered your asses with Waller and he’s not pissed about it. Curious. The dots still haven’t quite connected so you lift his hand to look at the injury. Bruised knuckles and broken skin, he’s clearly been in a fight. “What happened?”

“I had a bit of unfinished business with a cowboy.”

Cowboy. The name ignites a flurry of memories that flash through your mind like a lightning storm and everything makes sense now.

Rick must have left after you’d fallen asleep, you recall hearing a door close but it’s fuzzy, the memory feeling like a dream. However, it clearly wasn’t, Rick left to track down the cowboy and beat some manners into him.

“Flag, you could get in serious trouble for that.”

“I know,” he sighs as if he doesn’t care, “but he deserved it.”

You nod. The asshole one hundred percent deserved it and you dread to think what would have happened if Rick hadn’t shown up. You lift his hand to your lips and kiss each bruise and cut. He hisses at the worst one on his middle knuckle and you blow gently on it to dull the sting.

“So,” you say after a quiet moment. Keeping your focus on his hand you point out, “it’s morning.”

“So it is,” he agrees.

You turn your head enough to look at him. “You made me a promise.”

The air gets sucked from the room and all you can hear is the hammering of your own heart against your chest. Rick studies your face, perhaps wondering how much you truly remember or if you're still under the influence. The longer the silence prevails and Rick contemplates whatever it is he’s thinking, panic sets in that he’s going to brush it all off and tell you to forget everything he said. You can’t and you won’t.

“Ask me again,” he says so softly you’d have missed it if you hadn’t seen his lips move.

Relief floods you, it’s not that he doesn’t want it, he wants consent. He needs to know you really want it and it wasn’t some drug induced blunder. So you repeat your same words from the night before, “I dare you to kiss me.”

He props himself up on his elbow and he’s still hesitant as he leans over you. He presses his lips to yours softly and you wrap a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue over your bottom lip. He lets out a throaty moan when your tongues meet and his hesitation disappears. Rick pulls your body beneath him and he swirls his hips so you can feel how aroused he is.

He breaks the kiss way sooner than you’d have liked but he’s smirking down at you, “does this prove I don’t hate you?”

You hum and copy his teasing smirk, “maybe, but keep going just so I can be sure.”

“Yes ma’am,” he laughs and dips to kiss you again.

Dabbling in DC: @xoxabs88xox / @petitgateau911

Risking it all for Rick Flag: @cockslut-padalecki

[princessmisery666-library]

Slip Of The Tongue

Summary: The adrenaline of your first big argument with Rick sparks a change in your relationship that you couldn’t be happier about.

Warnings: argument, jealousy, insecurities, love confessions, smut, thigh riding, dom/sub, dom!Rick, oral sex (female receiving), light choking.

W/C: 3k

Rating: E (explicit - 18+)

Characters: Rick Flag, reader, OC.

Pairing: Rick Flag x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

READ IT NOW: Tumblr // AO3

[byrdman1002]

@thesuicidesquad #TheSuicideSquad #SuicideSquad #HarleyQuinn #HarleenQuinzel #CaptainBoomerang #GeorgeDiggerHarkness #GeorgeHarkness #ColonelRickFlag #RickFlag #Blackguard #RichardHertz #TDK #TheDetachableKid #CoryPitzner #Weasel https://www.instagram.com/p/CSynoeLrD6M/?utm_medium=tumblr

[princessmisery666]

Say My Name - A DC Mini Series

Summary: Rick goes undercover to put an end to a crime syndicate. He makes the rookie mistake of falling for his mark, Ally. Will he go through with it and arrest her along with her family? Or does Amanda Waller have ulterior motives, as always?

Warnings: 🥰Fluff // 💔Angst // 🤬Language // 🔞Smut // 💋Cheating // 👊🏻canon type violence // 🍺Alcoholism // lovers to enemies // enemies to lovers // betrayal // manipulation //

W/C: 12.7k

Characters: Rick Flag, metahuman!OFC, Amanda Waller, Bruce Wayne (Batfleck).

Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC (Ally), brief Bruce Wayne (Batfleck) x OFC (Ally).

Bingos: @anyfandomgoesbingo // @anyfandomangstbingo // @rickflagbingo // Squares Filled:

Part 1 - any fandom goes - Positions by Ariana Grande

Part 2 - any fandom goes - Batman smut

Part 3 - any fandom angst - Shootout

Part 4 any fandom angst - ex-lovers // Rick Flag - Angry!Rick

Part 1 - Say My Name

W/C: 2.8k Warnings: 🔞🥰💔 Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

Rick has to make a decision; protect the woman he loves or do his job.

Part 2 - Two Birds One Stone

W/C: 3.9k Warnings: 🔞🥰💔 Pairing: Bruce Wayne x OFC

Rick discovers where Ally was during the takedown but he doesn’t like it. Waller gets her claws firmly in Ally and tests her powers.

Part 3 - Honey Trap

W/C: 4.2k Warnings: 🥰💔👊🏻Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

It seems Ally is no longer useful and Waller needs to get rid of her. Can Rick save her?

Part 4 - Shitty Rom-Com

W/C: 2.1k Warnings: 🥰💔Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

Are Rick and Ally safe? Are they together?

Master Lists: Main // DC

Bingos: Any Fandom Goes // Any Fandom Angst // Rick Flag

[princessmisery666]

Say My Name (mini series) - Part 1 of 4

Series Summary: Rick goes undercover to put an end to a crime syndicate. He makes the rookie mistake of falling for his mark, Ally. Will he go through with it and arrest her along with her family? Or does Amanda Waller have ulterior motives, as always?

Part 1

Summary: Rick has to make a decision to protect the woman he loves or do his job.

Warnings: smut from the off, fluff, angst (what is wrong with me? Why can’t they just be happy? *cries in fangirl*), lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers, betrayal.

W/C: 2.8k

Characters: Rick Flag, metahuman!OFC, Amanda Waller.

Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC (Ally).

Notes: Set after Suicide Squad but before The Suicide Squad (no spoilers - cause f*ck that ending!)

Bingo: @anyfandomgoesbingo Square Filled: Positions by Ariana Grande.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // @cockslut-padalecki // @wonder-cole

Graphics: pics found on google, title card made by me, divider by @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: Series // Main // AFG Bingo

Say My Name

A visible shiver made Ally’s skin prickle under his fingertips, and Rick’s name shuddered from her in a broken whisper. From his place between her legs, he smirked. “That’s my girl,” he praised, chin glistening with her second climax. “I love it when you say my name like that,” he confessed for maybe the hundredth time, crawling up her body, licking the sweat that seeped from her pores.

The weeks between meeting Ally and finally getting her into his bed, he’d fantasized about watching goosebumps decorate her sun-kissed skin from his touch, longed to taste her every flavor, drove himself crazy thinking about burying his face in her breasts, sucking a mark into the sensitive flesh, ached to hear her pretty sounds bleed into passionate screams as his cock throbbed inside of her, so whenever given a chance, he did it all.

He prodded his dick at her entrance and delivered a bruising kiss to her already swollen lips, sliding his cock through her wet heat, nudging and slapping his tip against her clit. “Say it, again.”

She pressed her lips together in a tight line; he loved this game they played. Hearing her say his name was his favorite sound, and she knew it. It was a sweet song that rolled off her tongue, especially when the last syllable got lost in a hitched breath. But she made him work for it every time.

“Babe,” she groaned, needy and impatient. Her back arched, trying to get him to slip inside of her frustratingly empty channel. “You know you shouldn’t tease me.”

His grin turned wicked, and he sat back, butt resting on his heels, his length still tormenting her as it glided, through her folds, up and down. “You’ve cum twice; how am I teasing?”

“Fine,” she huffed and reached for him, “I’ll do it myself.”

Quicker than she thought possible, he had both her hands pinned at the wrist above her head. “Nuh-uh, baby girl, I’m in charge here.”

“Prove it,” she sassed, “show me how in charge you are.”

Rick wet his lips; he liked this game too. That wicked grin morphed to depraved glee while he repositioned her legs around his waist and palmed his leaking cock, placing it at the edge of her hole.

“Take a breath,” he commanded, and as she breathed in, he shoved forward, breaching her pussy.

The breath howled from her chest in a lewd gasping shriek. He kissed her neck, scraped his teeth along her pulse point and jawline, waiting for her to pant through it.

Rick dragged back slowly. “Every time my hips hit your ass,” the hard muscle and bone of his snapping hips collided with hers with a loud slap that her strangled cry drowned out, “you say my name.”

She whined, “Fuck, Rick.”

“Good girl.”

Rick Flag was many things; brave, patriotic, loyal, confident, and intelligent, except now. He’d made a rookie mistake. He’d fucked up in one of the dumbest ways possible, and watching Ally freshen up through the gap in the bathroom door, he knew he wasn’t quite finished screwing up.

He sits butt-ass naked on the edge of the bed, which seems appropriate as he’s about to be as vulnerable and bare as the day he was born. He stared at the grey carpet; again, it seemed apt, his life wasn’t black and white, and he wondered how he came to find himself navigating the grey areas. Again. Had he not learned his lesson after June? But when he really thought about it, it’s a simple answer. He let himself fall for Ally because she’s easy to love, even the parts of her that aren’t. The wall of insecurity that she kept up because she worried that it was her abilities that drew him to her, like everybody else, and not just simply Ally. Kind, stubborn, sweet, reckless, bad-ass, sassy, take no shit from anyone Ally. It took some convincing, but he’d proven that he was immune to her powers of persuasion. She hadn’t understood how and he would have confessed that he took a suppressant - he hadn’t asked where Waller got it from - right then and there if he could have done so without revealing who he really was.

“I don’t know how, baby,” he’d lied, kissing her forehead, “I just know it doesn’t work.”

She tried once more, her hands wrapped around his forearms, eyes locked, training his focus on her. A mauve-colored mist flowed from her hands and swirled around his arms. Rick felt a slight tingle under his skin, like a feather being brushed along his nerve endings, but before it reached his shoulder, it disappeared.

Her tone changed, thick honey layered with a husky echo, “Tell me your deepest desire, Rick,” Ally commanded. She’d never need to use her powers on him if she just said his name like that every time.

His face slackened, and his voice lowered to a barely audible whisper, “my deepest desire,” he started. Hurt painted her features, a hopeful smile dropping to a disheartened scowl. Rick smiled broadly and launched himself at her, knocking her flat on the bed, caging her beneath him. She yelped in surprise but didn’t otherwise fight him off. He continued, “is for you to say my name like that till you can’t remember what it is.”

A happy grin pulled her lips back. “Asshole.”

“Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

She kissed him, and it felt different from the hundred that had come before it. She’d never been hesitant before, but now she seemed timid.

He broke their connection, worry creasing his brow, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Rick, I’m not,” her voice wavered, and she cleared whatever the doubt was with a small cough but shied from his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?”

“Us,” she said, wriggled out from under him, and swung her legs off the bed.

“What?” he asked and was glad she’d turned her back to him so she couldn’t see the panic flooding through him like a tidal wave.

“My powers,” she said, watching the mauve mist of her power twist around her fingers, “allow me to know someone’s true intentions. If I don’t know what yours are, I don’t know…” her shoulders slumped.

He pulled himself to sit beside her, “You mean you don’t know how to be vulnerable?”

She nodded, despair screaming from her hazel eyes as she turned them on him. “Yeah. To give myself to someone so completely without...knowing. I don’t know how to be with someone who I have to trust on blind faith.”

“I’m gonna show you how,” he promised, “if you’ll let me.”

Light flooded the room as Ally exited the bathroom before shutting off the light, leaving only the lamp’s soft glow. His heartbeat accelerated, fight or flight adrenaline pumped through his veins in a last-ditch attempt to stop him from doing what he was about to do.

Her feet entered his downcast vision, he’d been staring at the chipped nail polish on her toes for too long, but he wasn’t sure he could face her. Hands gently cradled his face, and she lifted his head to force the eye contact he was reluctant to make. Whatever his expression was, it provoked worry in her, and she asked gently, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Rick rested his hands on her hips, squeezed momentarily to ground himself. It was always a gamble to say those three words, never more so than now, but he was ready to risk it all; he had to be.

“I love you,” he said and hated that he made it sound like it was a bad thing.

Her eyes filled with tears, and her lips curled into a happy smile, as they should. It was the first time either of them had said it; it should have been a joyous occasion. But it wasn’t, at least not for him.

“I love you too,” she admitted and pressed her lips to his.

She made the kiss deeper, tongues meeting in a familiar dance, and straddled his lap. He ran his hands along her legs, up her back, committing each blemish and scar to memory as he clasped his hand at the back of her neck.

Pulling her back, he met her eyes with a wrecked stare, “say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I really hope that’s true,” said Rick, taking a deep breath and manhandling her not so gently to a seat beside him so he could stand up. He paced in the small space the bedroom offered. Thinking over the same things he’d gone over a million times, there must be a way he could protect her without fucking everything up. “I’d do anything for you,” he admitted, stopping to look her in the eye. “I want a life with you, cooking breakfast on a Sunday morning while you dance around in my shirt, then I want you to meet my parents on Monday. Be all charming at the dinner table. My mom would swoon, my dad would be impressed with how I managed to nab such a beautiful and wonderful woman, but then I’d fuck you in the bathroom before dessert.” She hummed in agreement, but he wasn’t done. “I wanna do laundry with you, grocery shopping, everything. I wanna walk your dog on the beach with you.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“So we’ll get one.” He ran his hands through his hair and left them there, tugging slightly to focus on something other than the crippling fear in his chest. He stared earnestly, wishing she could use her power, so he wouldn’t have to say it out loud.

He doesn’t like how she says his name that time, a crack of fear she can’t quite mask. “Rick, what’s going on?”

Nauseated with worry that she’s going to disappear right before his eyes, which he’s afraid she will when he tells her the truth. “I’ve got three thousand dollars stashed in my closet; you can take it, get on a bus, leave town. I can meet you in like a week, and then we can disappear.”

“I can’t leave; tomorrow is the big meet, you know that.” She laughed nervously as the thought of ‘has he gone insane?’ traveled across her face.

“Don’t come tomorrow,” he begged, dropping to his knees at her feet.

“Don’t,” she warned, anger starting to cut through the worry. “I’ve earned my place at that table, just like you.”

He understood how hard she’d worked to earn the trust and respect of her family. “This isn’t about what you’ve earned, Ally.”

“Then what is it about?” she pleaded, hands on his cheeks, and he felt the prickle of her power. He didn’t take it personally; it was a habit she couldn’t break. “You’re not making any sense. You tell me you love me, then rant on about running away. I love you, baby, whatever it is just, tell me.”

“Fuck I hope you do cause I’m about to blow up my whole fuckin’ life, and it’s not gonna be pretty.” He sighed, heavy and regretful, held her eyes for a minute, taking everything in, just in case it was the last time he got the chance to.

He kissed her, desperate and hard. When it all became too much, and she was so breathless she had to push against his chest, he granted her release. Tears pooled in his eyes, anxiety pouring out the only way it could. “Ally, my name isn’t Rick Jones; it’s Rick Flag. Colonel Rick Flag, I’m with an elite Special Forces unit. Tomorrow, at the meet, my team is gonna storm in and arrest everybody.”

“What?” she gasped and searched his face for the punchline, the tell in his eyes to show it was all a joke.

“I’m sorry,” he implored, “I’m so sorry. But you have to believe me; everything I ever told you, everything we shared in this room, was the truth.”

“Why are you telling me now?”

“Cause I love you, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Her hands dropped from his face, and this was it—this is the moment he loses her, and the deplorable dread fizzles in his gut like acid. She stood up and stepped around him, snatching her clothes from where he threw them in his haste to get her naked.

He slumped, back hitting the bed painfully, but it barely registered as he watched her rush to get dressed, rush to leave him.

“I trusted you,” Ally said, shoving her legs into the tight denim jeans, “I vouched for you, I brought you in. You made me fall for you and...and…”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? For screwing me or using me to screw over my boss? Who also happens to be my brother!” she growled, not expecting an answer as she gathered up her sneakers.

“Ally, please. If you go to that meeting tomorrow, you won’t end up in some high max prison,” Rick explained, one last-ditch attempt to convince her he was trying to save her. “It’ll be some black site, off the grid; they’ll wipe any record you ever existed.” His voice quivered with barely contained emotion. “I won’t be able to save you.”

“I wouldn’t need saving if you weren’t here,” she snapped, marching toward the door.

“Wait,” he called out so desperately she stopped. He felt pathetic, this wasn’t who he was, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Say my name, please.”

She shook her head and continued to leave without saying a word.

It was never going to go smoothly. The bad guys were never going to go quietly. But once the dust settled and the yelling stopped, and the bad guys that managed not to get a bullet to the brain were herded like cattle into the waiting riot vans, Rick breathed a little easier. Well, not easier, the nine-millimeter in his gut made breathing difficult, but the relief that Ally wasn’t among the dead or arrested helped dull the pain.

He limped toward the riot van, a paramedic hot on his heels, berating him for being an idiot and bleeding all over his boots.

“Yo, Max,” he called, leaning on the open door to the full van, “Where’s Ally? She was supposed to be here.”

Max, her asshole of a brother that Rick had never liked, regarded him for a moment, cogs turning behind his fury-filled eyes, and suddenly recognition sparked. “Did she know? Is she the one who ratted us out?”

Rick didn’t hesitate in his denial, “No.”

“So, where is she?” Max asked, “why isn’t she in here with us?”

“We had a fight.” Not a complete lie. “She took off last night, and I haven’t seen her since.” Also, not a lie, but now he was worried that he’d inadvertently made Ally a pariah within her family.

“Flag,” Waller called from somewhere behind him, but he held Max’s suspicious eyes. He couldn’t back down. If something were to go wrong and Max was set free - highly unlikely with Amanda Waller in charge - Rick knew Max would have Ally killed if he even had a slight suspicion that she was the one who set them up.

Rick had played a role for nine months; he was good at faking it, acting a particular type of way even when he didn’t feel it, so he fixed a cocky smile to his face. “You may as well tell us,” he suggested, “we’ll catch up with her eventually, throw her fine ass in jail too.”

“Colonel Flag,” Waller shouted louder, patience non-existent.

“Watch your back, Colonel,” Max sneered.

“I’d say don’t drop the soap,” Rick jested, “but I’m not sure they have soap where you’re going, buddy.”

The cops standing by followed his nodded instruction to close the doors, and Rick shuffled off toward Amanda.

“You’re a mess,” Waller acknowledged, “get to the hospital, I need a full briefing, and you can’t do that while you’re bleeding out.”

He tried to sound casual and nonchalant, but the blood loss made him lightheaded, and he failed. “Any word on Ally?”

Amanda, always one step ahead, smiled knowingly while she followed the paramedics that guided him toward the waiting ambulance. “We picked her up not long after she left your apartment last night.” Confusion knitted his brow, and Waller took pleasure in that. “What? Did you think we didn’t have eyes and ears on the place? Come on, Flag, you know me better than that.”

“You have to let me see her,” Rick implored, resisting the help offered. “Please, Waller, I need to see her.”

“Get yourself cleaned up,” she nodded toward the ambulance. “Then we’ll talk.”

Part 2 - Two Birds, One Stone.

Tags:

Dabbling in DC: @xoxabs88xox // @petitgateau911

Risking it all for Rick Flag: @cockslut-padalecki

Say My Name series: @loverhymeswith // @b3autyfuldisast3r // @harper-emory-writes

Tag lists open

[princessmisery666-library]

Breaking Point

Summary: Rick Flag is uptight and it’s abundantly clear he hates you. But loose lips, a mission gone awry and Rick having to save you leads to unexpected confessions that have consequences the morning after.

Warnings: mainly fluff, language, drink spiking, tiny bit of angst, enemies to lovers, bold/flirty reader.

W/C: 4.5k

Characters: Rick Flag, you (no descriptions of body type or ethnicity)

Pairing: Rick Flag x You.

READ IT NOW: Tumblr // AO3

[princessmisery666-library]

PrincessMisery666 - Master List

I don’t give consent for my work, translated or used in parts to be posted on any other platform, even if I am ‘credited’ for it.

I write:

Angst / Fluff / Smut

Drabbles / One shots / Mini series /Long chaptered fics.

Original Female Characters / Female Reader Inserts

Notes

All fics are completed (unless otherwise stated)

Fics will be on multiple master lists (e.g characters and/or bingo/challenges etc.)

Tag Lists Open - Fandom tag lists and individual character tag lists available. Please complete this form. You don't need a google account to fill it in.

Fandoms:

Top Gun: Maverick

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Bradley 'Rooster��� Bradshaw

Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Supernatural

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Marvel 

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers

Sam Wilson

Erik Stevens

DC

Rick Flag

Clark Kent

Chris Evans Characters

Steve Rogers

Andy Barber

Chris Evans RPF

Other Fandom’s

The Gray Man

The Witcher

Outer Range

Outer Banks

Sons Of Anarchy

The Walking Dead

Chicago PD/Fire

Any Fandom Goes Bingo - Round 1 - Round 2

Round 1 Prompts - BINGO (all filled & posted)

Any Fandom Fluff Bingo

Any Fandom Angst Bingo - requests open

[princessmisery666-library]

Say My Name - A DC Mini Series (4 Parts)

Summary: Rick goes undercover to put an end to a crime syndicate. He makes the rookie mistake of falling for his mark, Ally. Will he go through with it and arrest her along with her family? Or does Amanda Waller have ulterior motives, as always?

Warnings: 🥰Fluff // 💔Angst // 🤬Language // 🔞Smut // 💋Cheating // 👊🏻canon type violence // 🍺Alcoholism // lovers to enemies // enemies to lovers // betrayal // manipulation //

W/C: 12.7k

Characters: Rick Flag, metahuman!OFC, Amanda Waller, Bruce Wayne (Batfleck).

Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC (Ally), brief Bruce Wayne (Batfleck) x OFC (Ally).

READ IT NOW: Tumblr // AO3 // FFNet

[princessmisery666]

Breaking Point

Summary: Rick Flag is uptight and it’s abundantly clear he hates you. But loose lips, a mission gone awry and Rick having to save you leads to unexpected confessions that have consequences the morning after.

Warnings: mainly fluff, language, drink spiking, tiny bit of angst, enemies to lovers, bold/flirty reader.

W/C: 4.5k

Characters: Rick Flag, you (no descriptions of body type or ethnicity)

Pairing: Rick Flag x You.

Bingos: @anyfandomfluffbingo // @rickflagbingo Squares Filled:

Fluff - only one bed // “I dare you to kiss me.”

Rick Flag - Mechanic!Rick // “Good to know.”

Notes: Lyrics from Etta James - Breaking Point (I Just Wanna Make Love To You.) For the young'uns I've linked the ad below 😋.

Betas: @cockslut-padalecki - love ya babes // and @lacontroller1991 was kind enough to read through to give some feedback.

Graphics: pic found on google, title card and dividers made by me.

Master Lists: Main // AF Fluff Bingo // Rick Flag

The late afternoon Georgia sun blares down on the black asphalt, causing heat waves on the desolate back road with no sign of any other people as far as the eye can see. Of course that’s where your government issued SUV had broken down. You’d tried to convince Rick to take your flat top, but no he followed the rules, as usual.

But now here you were, smoke billowing out of the exhaust, even after the engine had been shut off and Rick bent over the hood attempting to fix it.

It was like a damn Diet Coke commercial. Sweat made his skin glisten, grease smeared his cheek and every time he swallowed a mouthful of water you’d watch a bead of sweat trickle down his throat into his shirt. The white t-shirt he wore was soaked through, it clung to him in all the right places and the sweat made it practically transparent. You wished he’d just take it off already, but he wouldn’t, because Rick Flag is wound too tight.

For as long as you’ve worked together he’s always been uptight. Never broke any rules, never deviated from the plan unless absolutely necessary and even then he grumbles about it all the fucking while. So when the black SUV broke down a hundred miles from your destination, you knew you’d never hear the end of it.

He straightens and puts his hands on his hips, lips pursed while he glares at the uncooperative vehicle as if his scowl will jump start it to life once again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t. He tilts his head back, and the sun shines down on him making the beads of sweat look like tiny diamonds are dancing on his skin, he brings the water bottle to his lips and the song from the commercial starts playing in your head.

I don't want you to be no slave

I don't want you to work all day

But I want you to be true

And I just wanna make…

“Hey, Colonel Y/L/N,” he calls out, interrupting your perfectly good fantasy.

You’d lost interest in helping a while ago and wandered into the line of trees to find some shade and a better angle to ogle your colleague. He lifts the hem of his t-shirt and bends to wipe his brow, giving you the quickest glimpse of his abs.

“Are you not an engineer?” Rick asks as if reminding you.

You were indeed the engineer, but you knew, even if you found what the problem was, you’d never get the hybrid vehicle working without the specific computer programme you didn't have with you.

“That’s what they pay me for,” you smile.

“So why am I the one sweating my ass off in the Georgia heat trying to get us back on the road?”

“‘Cause,” you say, strolling toward him, “you’d have made one fine ass mechanic in another lifetime,” you wink. “And I like to see you sweat.”

“Don’t make me write you up for inappropriate conduct,” he warns, wiping his dirty hands on a rag.

You roll your eyes. “Jesus you’re extra uptight today!”

“Ah fuck off,” he groans, throwing the rag onto the engine, “we’re screwed and you know it! We’re a hundred miles away from where we need to be and Waller is gonna have my ass ‘cause of it.”

“She understands cars break down, Rick,” you say, “if anything she’ll blame the tech guys for not running a full diagnostic check before they gave us the keys.”

He nods, but his annoyance is evident. “Answer for everything, right?”

You shrug, “pretty much.”

He smirks, fully knowing his remark will get under your skin, “except that time in Quebec.”

It has the desired effect and you want to slap him for bringing it up but that’s what he wants. A reaction. So you give him your own sardonic smirk. “It worked out in the end.”

“I forgot, you're laid back, don’t give a crap, go with the flow, Y/N.” It's not a compliment, it's a sarcastic assessment of your attitude.

“Better than being the highly strung teacher's pet.”

It’s not the first time you’ve had this particular fight and it always ends with Rick giving you the silent treatment, which is fine cause it means you won’t have to listen to him grumble about the plan going awry.

“It’s too hot for this shit!” you say and walk to the trunk.

“Where’re you going?” he asks, watching you grab your bag and head off in the direction you’d come from.

“We passed a town about five miles back,” you call over your shoulder. “I’m going to find a motel.”

“We need to wait here for evac.”

“Seriously, Flag?” you ask, spinning to face him. “We’re on a recon mission, the idea is to be stealthy, stay under the radar. The guys that are already there will have to do a double shift cause I’m not walking a hundred miles to get there, and it’s not like Waller can fly a chopper in and drop us off. I’m sure there’s a garage or a car rental place, we can get going again at first light tomorrow.”

He ponders for a moment and you can see he doesn’t want to agree with the plan, simply because you thought of it. But you don’t wait for him to agree, he doesn’t have to, you’re going whether he follows or not. He can explain to Waller why the team split up.

You're maybe fifty feet from the car by the time he jogs to your side, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Oh-five-hundred start,” he demands, lips set in a straight line.

“Sir, yes, sir,” you salute unnecessary, he doesn’t out rank you. In fact you have more field hours logged than him, a fact you like to rub in whenever the opportunity arises and you always make sure it does.

The motel isn’t exactly the Ritz but you haven’t seen any rodents or cockroaches so it could be worse, you guess. The clerk, obviously reading Rick’s hostile body language, explained, “there’s a cowboy convention over in the next town, so we only have one room left with one bed.”

You’d flashed Rick a look over your shoulder and he looked hella pissed, “you can always go sleep in the car,” you suggested.

“Whatever,” he said and left the office. You handed your card over to the clerk and offered an apologetic smile.

“I’ll flip you for it,” you said to Rick as soon as you entered the room.

“You can take the bed, if I can have the first shower,” he’d countered. It was more than fair trade so you’d agreed. But regimented as he is, he was in and done within ten minutes.

The water was hot and the pressure was adequate so you feel surprisingly refreshed after your walk back into town.

Rick’s at the small kitchen table when you exit the bathroom after your indulgent - longer than ten minutes - shower. He looks up at you but doesn’t comment on the tight jeans and simple white t-shirt you’re wearing.

Finally, the Diet Coke commercial fantasy is complete and you thank the Georgia heat for being unbearable enough that he’s not wearing a shirt. But as relaxed as he looks, shirtless and sockless feet kicked up on the table, he’s still in work mode studying surveillance photos. You shake your head but bite your tongue about reporting him for inappropriate attire while on a mission.

You go back and forth from the bathroom, repacking your stuff so you can sleep in as late as possible and not have to worry about packing in the morning when you feel his eyes stalking your back and forth.

It’s not until you’ve put your boots on and slip into your favorite leather jacket he finally asks, “where’re you going?”

“The bar across the street,” you tell him, putting some cash and your card in your back pocket.

“We’re working.”

“Our job was to watch the Michaelson’s house,” you spread your arms wide and spin in a full circle, “I don’t know if you noticed, but this isn’t the Michaelson’s house! So I'm taking a few hours off and going to get a drink. I’m buying if you’re brave enough to join me.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, and for half a second you think you may have goaded him into joining you but he shakes his head, “I’m good.” and he goes back to studying.

“Don’t you ever let loose, Flag?”

He sighs, frustration and a hint of disbelief you’d even ask the question. “Yeah, of course I do, when I’m back home with my buddies.”

“And when do you ever take time off to go home?”

Rick holds your gaze for the longest moment, doing the mental math of the last time he was home. He looks down at his lap and you pity him. “It’s been a while.”

You know why it’s been a while. He broke up with June. Rumours flew around headquarters around about the same time his demeanour changed and it solidified the gossip. After that, he kept himself occupied with work, taking mission after mission without a break. It’s that thought that makes you realize you don’t want to be that person. All about the job.

“Y’know what,” you say, “you can take the bed.” He looks up at you confused and you continue with a wink, “I’ll find someone else to bunk with.”

“Y/N, we’re on a mission.”

“Don’t worry, Flagster, I’ll be sure to sneak out and be back by five.”

He grits his teeth at the use of the nickname he hates and you take that victory with you as you head for the door.

“Y/N, that’s a dumb move,” he warns, “what happened to being under the radar?”

“I can be under the radar and under someone at the same time,” you wink over your shoulder, “I’m talented like that.”

“Y/N,” he calls.

“Either come with me and keep me out of trouble or rat me out to Waller, those are your choices.”

“You’re really fucking annoying, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, “and you’re really fucking boring. Don’t wait up, Dad.” And with that you breeze out the door.

Forty minutes later Rick walks into the bar, grumbling to himself about it being a bad idea. He spots you immediately, front and centre in the five rows of line dancers doing a simple square dance to a catchy country pop song. You’re wearing a brown leather looking stetson and he wonders which cowboy you’ve chatted up to get it.

He ignores the jolt of jealousy the thought invokes and finds a seat at the end of the bar.

“Club soda,” he tells the barman and settles in for a long night. He knows you’re not going to leave until you’ve had your fun, but he’s not going to let you have enough to be hung over tomorrow. And yes, okay, he wants to make sure you don’t go home with someone else. He tells himself it's for the good of the mission, he’s doing his duty by having his partners back but it’s a lie. After you left the motel room, the idea of you screwing someone buzzed around his head like a swarm of bees and the sting of envy grew too much to ignore.

He’s disappointed but isn’t surprised you don’t notice his presence right away. You're too busy having a good time, dancing and singing and you think he’s boring. So why would you even bother scanning the room for him when you never expect him to show up?

A woman you’ve befriended hands you a shot of something; tequila from what he can gather in the poor lighting and you shoot it back without a second thought. Your face scrunches when the bitter taste hits and you shake your head, tongue sticking out once you’ve swallowed.

Rick can’t help but laugh at the gesture and while he continues to chuckle, your new friend leans closer to whisper something in your ear.

Suddenly your gaze finds him and he raises his glass to you with a small nod of his head. You do a little excited skip and your face breaks into a smile before you rush toward him and his stomach flips that you seem genuinely pleased to see him.

He laughs watching you navigate the tables and people, a little unsteady on your feet and he questions how much you’ve had to drink in the forty minutes before he arrived.

You wrap your arms around his neck and smosh his face against your chest as soon as you reach him. “Yay, Rick is here,” you sing.

He laughs and manages to free himself from your too tight grip but it confirms his suspicion that you’ve definitely had your fill of booze and it’s time to rain on your parade. Then he sees the adorable goofy smile you have for him and it gives him pause. You’ve never looked at him like this before. It’s rare you even genuinely smile in his direction let alone look at him as if he’s just hung the moon.

“Y/N,” he says and watches as you sway unsteadily. He cups your face and dips to look directly into your eyes. Your pupils are blown wide, barely any color left and now he understands the dopey smile. “Fuck, have you taken something?” Even as he asks he knows the answer, you’re carefree and don’t give a shit but you’re not stupid. Before you can answer he continues, “who brought you the drinks?”

He scans the room to see if anyone is watching and he notices a hatless cowboy averting his attention elsewhere when Rick catches his eye.

“Motherfucker,” he spits. He throws some cash on the bar, and knocks the dumb fucking hat off your head before wrapping an arm around your waist. “C’mon, it’s time to go.”

You don’t put up a fight as he marches, part carries you back to the motel and he realizes it's the first time you’ve never fought him on something. You're always clashing over seemingly trivial stuff and he admits it's mostly down to him, but it’s easier that way.

“You awake, Y/N?” he asks as you stumble up the curb outside the room.

You mumble something incoherent and he scoops you up, bridal style for the last twenty feet or so.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lean your head on his shoulder. “Woo, where’d the floor go?” you ask in a sleepy whisper.

He laughs. It’s not funny that some asshole spiked you but the danger has passed. He’s got you and he just needs to keep an eye on you while you sober up.

“You have a nice laugh, Flag. It’s all floaty and sweet.”

“Oh someone’s floating, alright, but it ain’t me,” he says, managing to wrestle the door open without putting you down. He places you gently on the bed and kneels in front of you, checking your eyes again. The fresh air has knocked some sense back into you, your pupils aren’t as big as they were.

“You have really pretty,” you stare into his eyes and it seems the word evades you so you wave a hand around their general area.

He catches your hand and offers a suggestion, “eyes?”

You snap your fingers and smile, “eyes! You have really pretty eyes.”

“Good to know,” he smirks. Whatever they used to spike your drink has given you loose lips and Rick can’t say he minds this version of you.

“Well you have really pretty everything, eyes, nose, arms, abs.”

“Please stop talking,” he begs but his cheeks are tainted pink.

“Okay, well that’s wrong, not everything cause I haven't seen everything cause you won’t let me, but my imagination is pretty good, and oh boy have I imagined it.”

“Y/N,” he cautions and quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, “you gotta stop.” You mumble something he doesn’t quite catch and reluctantly he releases you.

“I’ve imagined that too, you gagging me…”

“Y/N!” he shouts and stands up. You stare up at him like a little lost puppy he just kicked and he hates that he gave you the expression, but he really can’t take your flirting anymore. “Stop it, seriously!”

He waits a beat to make sure you’re not going to fall then goes to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water.

“Why’d you hate me Rick?”

He doesn’t acknowledge he heard you, instead unscrews the lid, picks up your hand and pushes the bottle into it to make sure you have a good grip. “I need you to drink this,” he says.

You shake your head softly. “But it’s so much hotter when you do it.”

He feels his brow crease and you seem to have enough sense left to understand he’s confused.

“Earlier today, when you were fixin’ the car,” you elaborate, “or at least trying to fix the car.” he rolls his eyes, even under the influence of god knows what you can’t help but tease him. “You were all sweaty and had grease stains on your face and every time you swallowed…” your gaze filters down to his throat and he watches you swallow and bite your lip before you seem to remember you had been talking. “I was jealous of every drop of sweat that got to touch your skin and I so desperately wanted to lick…”

Your hand reaches out and your fingers follow the same trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt but before you can go any further he catches your hand and holds it still.

“Stop,” he demands.

“You really do hate me, don’t you?” you decide.

He shakes his head, very slowly to make sure the message registers and pronounces each syllable perfectly. “I don’t hate you.”

“Really?” you ask, brow raised high, “cause you’re always on my ass, arguing with me, undermining me, and don’t think I don’t know you asked Waller to replace me on this mission. You didn’t want me here.”

“That's true,” he nods in agreement and he feels guilty that you know that detail, “but it’s not ‘cause I hate you.”

“Then what is it?”

He sighs. “I’m not doing this, can you just trust that I don’t hate you?”

“Nope,” you pop the p, shaking your head and pouting like a toddler. “You hate me, I know it. I can feel it in my bones, and other places but that’s inappropriate conduct,” you sneer in a terrible rendition of his voice.

“Y/N, this isn’t the time or place and even if it were, what does it matter? You're so high, you probably won’t remember.”

“Then this is the puuuuurfect time and place,” you sneer, “cause if I don't remember you can go back to hating me.”

“Fine,” he growls. He hates that you're so stubborn and won’t let it go but as much as he hates to admit it, your logic is spot on. If you won’t remember tomorrow what difference does it make if he tells you? “I’ll tell you but I need you to lay down for me.”

You eye him suspiciously but concede because you really do feel sleepy. “I’m not letting you get away with this Flag.”

“I know,” he nods and unzips your boot, “I promise as soon as your head hits that pillow, I’ll explain everything.”

You slowly lower yourself to lay flat, “Okay, I’m down. Go.”

He chuckles but unzips your other boot and pulls it off. “I don’t hate you, it’s the opposite of hate actually. I like you, more than I should. But I’ve been down that road, office romances don’t work,” he says, gently tugging the sheets from under you. “But you flirt with me so much it’s getting harder to resist. That’s why I asked Waller to put someone else with me for this mission.” He readjusts your legs so they're tucked under the covers. “I didn’t want to be stuck in a small room with you for forty-eight hours with no one to distract me. So no, Y/N, I don’t hate you,” he admits, smoothing a hand down your cheek. “But I’m trying my damn hardest too.”

“That’s dumb,” you say, “you like me so you make out like you don’t cause you’re trying to hate me.”

“Exactly,” he laughs and shrugs his shoulders, “I didn’t say it makes sense. I’m just trying to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself from what?”

He drops to a seat on the edge of the bed beside you and gives a pitiful smile. “Heartbreak, I guess.”

“I’m not June,” you say and he’s not so sure he likes your loose lips anymore. “It’s not fair of you to tar me with the same brush just cause she broke your heart.”

“I know,” he sighs but doesn’t say anymore. Your eyes droop closed and finally he thinks you’re going to fall asleep and that this will just be a hazy memory tomorrow that hopefully you won’t be brave enough to mention.

“So in conclusion,” you start, voice riddled with the tiredness that you're fighting, “you don’t hate me?”

“I do not hate you.”

“Prove it.” You ponder for a moment, your drug-addled brain trying to think of a logical way he can prove himself. Then it’s like a light pings on and you open your eyes to challenge him. “I dare you to kiss me.”

He stares at you for the longest time, and he hates that he contemplates doing it. It wouldn’t be right. Not in the state you’re in. He knows it’s not what you meant, but he leans in and kisses your cheek. “I’ll kiss you tomorrow, I promise,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, “if you still want me to.”

You sigh heavily through your nose, “so boring, Flagster.” but your eyes are already slipping closed and you shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asks, ignoring the nickname he hates.

“Yeah, cold,” you say softly. “Keep me warm.”

That’s something he can do, so he walks around the bed to get under the covers on the other side and drags you back to rest against his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he can.

You can tell from the light seeping in at the edges of the curtains that it’s way past five when you wake up. But Rick’s arm is draped over your stomach and you can feel the rhythm of his steady breathing against your back. Why did he let you sleep in? There’s no way in hell Rick Flag forgot to set an alarm so why do the red digits on the clock on the nightstand read a little after seven thirty?

As gently as you can you turn over onto your back and Rick’s slumber is picturesque. It's the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him and it's an image you want to hold onto for as long as possible. His lips are slightly parted, no wrinkles of a furrowed brow mar his features or crinkle his eyes at the corners and it takes all of your willpower not to reach out and stroke a hand down his cheek just to make sure he’s real.

You're curious to know why he’s in the bed with you, not that you mind, but answers can wait. You can’t resist smoothing your hand down his arm that’s still over your stomach, but when your fingertips reach his knuckles you feel the broken skin and he stirs at the sting your touch must produce.

His eyes flutter open and god damn he’s pretty. No man has any right being that pretty and the song plays in your head again.

I don't want you to be no slave.

That’s a lie, you’d happily let Rick be your slave.

“Morning,” he mumbles and his slight smile seems hesitant.

“Morning to you,” you say. “Why are we still in bed?”

He shrugs one shoulder, “I told Waller you had food poisoning and that she’d have to send someone else to cover us. Figured you could use the sleep.”

He’s covered your asses with Waller and he’s not pissed about it. Curious. The dots still haven’t quite connected so you lift his hand to look at the injury. Bruised knuckles and broken skin, he’s clearly been in a fight. “What happened?”

“I had a bit of unfinished business with a cowboy.”

Cowboy. The name ignites a flurry of memories that flash through your mind like a lightning storm and everything makes sense now.

Rick must have left after you’d fallen asleep, you recall hearing a door close but it’s fuzzy, the memory feeling like a dream. However, it clearly wasn’t, Rick left to track down the cowboy and beat some manners into him.

“Flag, you could get in serious trouble for that.”

“I know,” he sighs as if he doesn’t care, “but he deserved it.”

You nod. The asshole one hundred percent deserved it and you dread to think what would have happened if Rick hadn’t shown up. You lift his hand to your lips and kiss each bruise and cut. He hisses at the worst one on his middle knuckle and you blow gently on it to dull the sting.

“So,” you say after a quiet moment. Keeping your focus on his hand you point out, “it’s morning.”

“So it is,” he agrees.

You turn your head enough to look at him. “You made me a promise.”

The air gets sucked from the room and all you can hear is the hammering of your own heart against your chest. Rick studies your face, perhaps wondering how much you truly remember or if you're still under the influence. The longer the silence prevails and Rick contemplates whatever it is he’s thinking, panic sets in that he’s going to brush it all off and tell you to forget everything he said. You can’t and you won’t.

“Ask me again,” he says so softly you’d have missed it if you hadn’t seen his lips move.

Relief floods you, it’s not that he doesn’t want it, he wants consent. He needs to know you really want it and it wasn’t some drug induced blunder. So you repeat your same words from the night before, “I dare you to kiss me.”

He props himself up on his elbow and he’s still hesitant as he leans over you. He presses his lips to yours softly and you wrap a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue over your bottom lip. He lets out a throaty moan when your tongues meet and his hesitation disappears. Rick pulls your body beneath him and he swirls his hips so you can feel how aroused he is.

He breaks the kiss way sooner than you’d have liked but he’s smirking down at you, “does this prove I don’t hate you?”

You hum and copy his teasing smirk, “maybe, but keep going just so I can be sure.”

“Yes ma’am,” he laughs and dips to kiss you again.

Dabbling in DC: @xoxabs88xox / @petitgateau911

Risking it all for Rick Flag: @cockslut-padalecki

[princessmisery666]

Thanks Daisy ❤️ glad I could fulfil your Rick needs for a minute 😍🥰

And seeing this had made me miss him 😢

Breaking Point

Summary: Rick Flag is uptight and it’s abundantly clear he hates you. But loose lips, a mission gone awry and Rick having to save you leads to unexpected confessions that have consequences the morning after.

Warnings: mainly fluff, language, drink spiking, tiny bit of angst, enemies to lovers, bold/flirty reader.

W/C: 4.5k

Characters: Rick Flag, you (no descriptions of body type or ethnicity)

Pairing: Rick Flag x You.

Bingos: @anyfandomfluffbingo // @rickflagbingo Squares Filled:

Fluff - only one bed // “I dare you to kiss me.”

Rick Flag - Mechanic!Rick // “Good to know.”

Notes: Lyrics from Etta James - Breaking Point (I Just Wanna Make Love To You.) For the young'uns I've linked the ad below 😋.

Betas: @cockslut-padalecki - love ya babes // and @lacontroller1991 was kind enough to read through to give some feedback.

Graphics: pic found on google, title card and dividers made by me.

Master Lists: Main // AF Fluff Bingo // Rick Flag

The late afternoon Georgia sun blares down on the black asphalt, causing heat waves on the desolate back road with no sign of any other people as far as the eye can see. Of course that’s where your government issued SUV had broken down. You’d tried to convince Rick to take your flat top, but no he followed the rules, as usual.

But now here you were, smoke billowing out of the exhaust, even after the engine had been shut off and Rick bent over the hood attempting to fix it.

It was like a damn Diet Coke commercial. Sweat made his skin glisten, grease smeared his cheek and every time he swallowed a mouthful of water you’d watch a bead of sweat trickle down his throat into his shirt. The white t-shirt he wore was soaked through, it clung to him in all the right places and the sweat made it practically transparent. You wished he’d just take it off already, but he wouldn’t, because Rick Flag is wound too tight.

For as long as you’ve worked together he’s always been uptight. Never broke any rules, never deviated from the plan unless absolutely necessary and even then he grumbles about it all the fucking while. So when the black SUV broke down a hundred miles from your destination, you knew you’d never hear the end of it.

He straightens and puts his hands on his hips, lips pursed while he glares at the uncooperative vehicle as if his scowl will jump start it to life once again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t. He tilts his head back, and the sun shines down on him making the beads of sweat look like tiny diamonds are dancing on his skin, he brings the water bottle to his lips and the song from the commercial starts playing in your head.

I don't want you to be no slave

I don't want you to work all day

But I want you to be true

And I just wanna make…

“Hey, Colonel Y/L/N,” he calls out, interrupting your perfectly good fantasy.

You’d lost interest in helping a while ago and wandered into the line of trees to find some shade and a better angle to ogle your colleague. He lifts the hem of his t-shirt and bends to wipe his brow, giving you the quickest glimpse of his abs.

“Are you not an engineer?” Rick asks as if reminding you.

You were indeed the engineer, but you knew, even if you found what the problem was, you’d never get the hybrid vehicle working without the specific computer programme you didn't have with you.

“That’s what they pay me for,” you smile.

“So why am I the one sweating my ass off in the Georgia heat trying to get us back on the road?”

“‘Cause,” you say, strolling toward him, “you’d have made one fine ass mechanic in another lifetime,” you wink. “And I like to see you sweat.”

“Don’t make me write you up for inappropriate conduct,” he warns, wiping his dirty hands on a rag.

You roll your eyes. “Jesus you’re extra uptight today!”

“Ah fuck off,” he groans, throwing the rag onto the engine, “we’re screwed and you know it! We’re a hundred miles away from where we need to be and Waller is gonna have my ass ‘cause of it.”

“She understands cars break down, Rick,” you say, “if anything she’ll blame the tech guys for not running a full diagnostic check before they gave us the keys.”

He nods, but his annoyance is evident. “Answer for everything, right?”

You shrug, “pretty much.”

He smirks, fully knowing his remark will get under your skin, “except that time in Quebec.”

It has the desired effect and you want to slap him for bringing it up but that’s what he wants. A reaction. So you give him your own sardonic smirk. “It worked out in the end.”

“I forgot, you're laid back, don’t give a crap, go with the flow, Y/N.” It's not a compliment, it's a sarcastic assessment of your attitude.

“Better than being the highly strung teacher's pet.”

It’s not the first time you’ve had this particular fight and it always ends with Rick giving you the silent treatment, which is fine cause it means you won’t have to listen to him grumble about the plan going awry.

“It’s too hot for this shit!” you say and walk to the trunk.

“Where’re you going?” he asks, watching you grab your bag and head off in the direction you’d come from.

“We passed a town about five miles back,” you call over your shoulder. “I’m going to find a motel.”

“We need to wait here for evac.”

“Seriously, Flag?” you ask, spinning to face him. “We’re on a recon mission, the idea is to be stealthy, stay under the radar. The guys that are already there will have to do a double shift cause I’m not walking a hundred miles to get there, and it’s not like Waller can fly a chopper in and drop us off. I’m sure there’s a garage or a car rental place, we can get going again at first light tomorrow.”

He ponders for a moment and you can see he doesn’t want to agree with the plan, simply because you thought of it. But you don’t wait for him to agree, he doesn’t have to, you’re going whether he follows or not. He can explain to Waller why the team split up.

You're maybe fifty feet from the car by the time he jogs to your side, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Oh-five-hundred start,” he demands, lips set in a straight line.

“Sir, yes, sir,” you salute unnecessary, he doesn’t out rank you. In fact you have more field hours logged than him, a fact you like to rub in whenever the opportunity arises and you always make sure it does.

The motel isn’t exactly the Ritz but you haven’t seen any rodents or cockroaches so it could be worse, you guess. The clerk, obviously reading Rick’s hostile body language, explained, “there’s a cowboy convention over in the next town, so we only have one room left with one bed.”

You’d flashed Rick a look over your shoulder and he looked hella pissed, “you can always go sleep in the car,” you suggested.

“Whatever,” he said and left the office. You handed your card over to the clerk and offered an apologetic smile.

“I’ll flip you for it,” you said to Rick as soon as you entered the room.

“You can take the bed, if I can have the first shower,” he’d countered. It was more than fair trade so you’d agreed. But regimented as he is, he was in and done within ten minutes.

The water was hot and the pressure was adequate so you feel surprisingly refreshed after your walk back into town.

Rick’s at the small kitchen table when you exit the bathroom after your indulgent - longer than ten minutes - shower. He looks up at you but doesn’t comment on the tight jeans and simple white t-shirt you’re wearing.

Finally, the Diet Coke commercial fantasy is complete and you thank the Georgia heat for being unbearable enough that he’s not wearing a shirt. But as relaxed as he looks, shirtless and sockless feet kicked up on the table, he’s still in work mode studying surveillance photos. You shake your head but bite your tongue about reporting him for inappropriate attire while on a mission.

You go back and forth from the bathroom, repacking your stuff so you can sleep in as late as possible and not have to worry about packing in the morning when you feel his eyes stalking your back and forth.

It’s not until you’ve put your boots on and slip into your favorite leather jacket he finally asks, “where’re you going?”

“The bar across the street,” you tell him, putting some cash and your card in your back pocket.

“We’re working.”

“Our job was to watch the Michaelson’s house,” you spread your arms wide and spin in a full circle, “I don’t know if you noticed, but this isn’t the Michaelson’s house! So I'm taking a few hours off and going to get a drink. I’m buying if you’re brave enough to join me.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, and for half a second you think you may have goaded him into joining you but he shakes his head, “I’m good.” and he goes back to studying.

“Don’t you ever let loose, Flag?”

He sighs, frustration and a hint of disbelief you’d even ask the question. “Yeah, of course I do, when I’m back home with my buddies.”

“And when do you ever take time off to go home?”

Rick holds your gaze for the longest moment, doing the mental math of the last time he was home. He looks down at his lap and you pity him. “It’s been a while.”

You know why it’s been a while. He broke up with June. Rumours flew around headquarters around about the same time his demeanour changed and it solidified the gossip. After that, he kept himself occupied with work, taking mission after mission without a break. It’s that thought that makes you realize you don’t want to be that person. All about the job.

“Y’know what,” you say, “you can take the bed.” He looks up at you confused and you continue with a wink, “I’ll find someone else to bunk with.”

“Y/N, we’re on a mission.”

“Don’t worry, Flagster, I’ll be sure to sneak out and be back by five.”

He grits his teeth at the use of the nickname he hates and you take that victory with you as you head for the door.

“Y/N, that’s a dumb move,” he warns, “what happened to being under the radar?”

“I can be under the radar and under someone at the same time,” you wink over your shoulder, “I’m talented like that.”

“Y/N,” he calls.

“Either come with me and keep me out of trouble or rat me out to Waller, those are your choices.”

“You’re really fucking annoying, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, “and you’re really fucking boring. Don’t wait up, Dad.” And with that you breeze out the door.

Forty minutes later Rick walks into the bar, grumbling to himself about it being a bad idea. He spots you immediately, front and centre in the five rows of line dancers doing a simple square dance to a catchy country pop song. You’re wearing a brown leather looking stetson and he wonders which cowboy you’ve chatted up to get it.

He ignores the jolt of jealousy the thought invokes and finds a seat at the end of the bar.

“Club soda,” he tells the barman and settles in for a long night. He knows you’re not going to leave until you’ve had your fun, but he’s not going to let you have enough to be hung over tomorrow. And yes, okay, he wants to make sure you don’t go home with someone else. He tells himself it's for the good of the mission, he’s doing his duty by having his partners back but it’s a lie. After you left the motel room, the idea of you screwing someone buzzed around his head like a swarm of bees and the sting of envy grew too much to ignore.

He’s disappointed but isn’t surprised you don’t notice his presence right away. You're too busy having a good time, dancing and singing and you think he’s boring. So why would you even bother scanning the room for him when you never expect him to show up?

A woman you’ve befriended hands you a shot of something; tequila from what he can gather in the poor lighting and you shoot it back without a second thought. Your face scrunches when the bitter taste hits and you shake your head, tongue sticking out once you’ve swallowed.

Rick can’t help but laugh at the gesture and while he continues to chuckle, your new friend leans closer to whisper something in your ear.

Suddenly your gaze finds him and he raises his glass to you with a small nod of his head. You do a little excited skip and your face breaks into a smile before you rush toward him and his stomach flips that you seem genuinely pleased to see him.

He laughs watching you navigate the tables and people, a little unsteady on your feet and he questions how much you’ve had to drink in the forty minutes before he arrived.

You wrap your arms around his neck and smosh his face against your chest as soon as you reach him. “Yay, Rick is here,” you sing.

He laughs and manages to free himself from your too tight grip but it confirms his suspicion that you’ve definitely had your fill of booze and it’s time to rain on your parade. Then he sees the adorable goofy smile you have for him and it gives him pause. You’ve never looked at him like this before. It’s rare you even genuinely smile in his direction let alone look at him as if he’s just hung the moon.

“Y/N,” he says and watches as you sway unsteadily. He cups your face and dips to look directly into your eyes. Your pupils are blown wide, barely any color left and now he understands the dopey smile. “Fuck, have you taken something?” Even as he asks he knows the answer, you’re carefree and don’t give a shit but you’re not stupid. Before you can answer he continues, “who brought you the drinks?”

He scans the room to see if anyone is watching and he notices a hatless cowboy averting his attention elsewhere when Rick catches his eye.

“Motherfucker,” he spits. He throws some cash on the bar, and knocks the dumb fucking hat off your head before wrapping an arm around your waist. “C’mon, it’s time to go.”

You don’t put up a fight as he marches, part carries you back to the motel and he realizes it's the first time you’ve never fought him on something. You're always clashing over seemingly trivial stuff and he admits it's mostly down to him, but it’s easier that way.

“You awake, Y/N?” he asks as you stumble up the curb outside the room.

You mumble something incoherent and he scoops you up, bridal style for the last twenty feet or so.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lean your head on his shoulder. “Woo, where’d the floor go?” you ask in a sleepy whisper.

He laughs. It’s not funny that some asshole spiked you but the danger has passed. He’s got you and he just needs to keep an eye on you while you sober up.

“You have a nice laugh, Flag. It’s all floaty and sweet.”

“Oh someone’s floating, alright, but it ain’t me,” he says, managing to wrestle the door open without putting you down. He places you gently on the bed and kneels in front of you, checking your eyes again. The fresh air has knocked some sense back into you, your pupils aren’t as big as they were.

“You have really pretty,” you stare into his eyes and it seems the word evades you so you wave a hand around their general area.

He catches your hand and offers a suggestion, “eyes?”

You snap your fingers and smile, “eyes! You have really pretty eyes.”

“Good to know,” he smirks. Whatever they used to spike your drink has given you loose lips and Rick can’t say he minds this version of you.

“Well you have really pretty everything, eyes, nose, arms, abs.”

“Please stop talking,” he begs but his cheeks are tainted pink.

“Okay, well that’s wrong, not everything cause I haven't seen everything cause you won’t let me, but my imagination is pretty good, and oh boy have I imagined it.”

“Y/N,” he cautions and quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, “you gotta stop.” You mumble something he doesn’t quite catch and reluctantly he releases you.

“I’ve imagined that too, you gagging me…”

“Y/N!” he shouts and stands up. You stare up at him like a little lost puppy he just kicked and he hates that he gave you the expression, but he really can’t take your flirting anymore. “Stop it, seriously!”

He waits a beat to make sure you’re not going to fall then goes to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water.

“Why’d you hate me Rick?”

He doesn’t acknowledge he heard you, instead unscrews the lid, picks up your hand and pushes the bottle into it to make sure you have a good grip. “I need you to drink this,” he says.

You shake your head softly. “But it’s so much hotter when you do it.”

He feels his brow crease and you seem to have enough sense left to understand he’s confused.

“Earlier today, when you were fixin’ the car,” you elaborate, “or at least trying to fix the car.” he rolls his eyes, even under the influence of god knows what you can’t help but tease him. “You were all sweaty and had grease stains on your face and every time you swallowed…” your gaze filters down to his throat and he watches you swallow and bite your lip before you seem to remember you had been talking. “I was jealous of every drop of sweat that got to touch your skin and I so desperately wanted to lick…”

Your hand reaches out and your fingers follow the same trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt but before you can go any further he catches your hand and holds it still.

“Stop,” he demands.

“You really do hate me, don’t you?” you decide.

He shakes his head, very slowly to make sure the message registers and pronounces each syllable perfectly. “I don’t hate you.”

“Really?” you ask, brow raised high, “cause you’re always on my ass, arguing with me, undermining me, and don’t think I don’t know you asked Waller to replace me on this mission. You didn’t want me here.”

“That's true,” he nods in agreement and he feels guilty that you know that detail, “but it’s not ‘cause I hate you.”

“Then what is it?”

He sighs. “I’m not doing this, can you just trust that I don’t hate you?”

“Nope,” you pop the p, shaking your head and pouting like a toddler. “You hate me, I know it. I can feel it in my bones, and other places but that’s inappropriate conduct,” you sneer in a terrible rendition of his voice.

“Y/N, this isn’t the time or place and even if it were, what does it matter? You're so high, you probably won’t remember.”

“Then this is the puuuuurfect time and place,” you sneer, “cause if I don't remember you can go back to hating me.”

“Fine,” he growls. He hates that you're so stubborn and won’t let it go but as much as he hates to admit it, your logic is spot on. If you won’t remember tomorrow what difference does it make if he tells you? “I’ll tell you but I need you to lay down for me.”

You eye him suspiciously but concede because you really do feel sleepy. “I’m not letting you get away with this Flag.”

“I know,” he nods and unzips your boot, “I promise as soon as your head hits that pillow, I’ll explain everything.”

You slowly lower yourself to lay flat, “Okay, I’m down. Go.”

He chuckles but unzips your other boot and pulls it off. “I don’t hate you, it’s the opposite of hate actually. I like you, more than I should. But I’ve been down that road, office romances don’t work,” he says, gently tugging the sheets from under you. “But you flirt with me so much it’s getting harder to resist. That’s why I asked Waller to put someone else with me for this mission.” He readjusts your legs so they're tucked under the covers. “I didn’t want to be stuck in a small room with you for forty-eight hours with no one to distract me. So no, Y/N, I don’t hate you,” he admits, smoothing a hand down your cheek. “But I’m trying my damn hardest too.”

“That’s dumb,” you say, “you like me so you make out like you don’t cause you’re trying to hate me.”

“Exactly,” he laughs and shrugs his shoulders, “I didn’t say it makes sense. I’m just trying to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself from what?”

He drops to a seat on the edge of the bed beside you and gives a pitiful smile. “Heartbreak, I guess.”

“I’m not June,” you say and he’s not so sure he likes your loose lips anymore. “It’s not fair of you to tar me with the same brush just cause she broke your heart.”

“I know,” he sighs but doesn’t say anymore. Your eyes droop closed and finally he thinks you’re going to fall asleep and that this will just be a hazy memory tomorrow that hopefully you won’t be brave enough to mention.

“So in conclusion,” you start, voice riddled with the tiredness that you're fighting, “you don’t hate me?”

“I do not hate you.”

“Prove it.” You ponder for a moment, your drug-addled brain trying to think of a logical way he can prove himself. Then it’s like a light pings on and you open your eyes to challenge him. “I dare you to kiss me.”

He stares at you for the longest time, and he hates that he contemplates doing it. It wouldn’t be right. Not in the state you’re in. He knows it’s not what you meant, but he leans in and kisses your cheek. “I’ll kiss you tomorrow, I promise,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, “if you still want me to.”

You sigh heavily through your nose, “so boring, Flagster.” but your eyes are already slipping closed and you shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asks, ignoring the nickname he hates.

“Yeah, cold,” you say softly. “Keep me warm.”

That’s something he can do, so he walks around the bed to get under the covers on the other side and drags you back to rest against his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he can.

You can tell from the light seeping in at the edges of the curtains that it’s way past five when you wake up. But Rick’s arm is draped over your stomach and you can feel the rhythm of his steady breathing against your back. Why did he let you sleep in? There’s no way in hell Rick Flag forgot to set an alarm so why do the red digits on the clock on the nightstand read a little after seven thirty?

As gently as you can you turn over onto your back and Rick’s slumber is picturesque. It's the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him and it's an image you want to hold onto for as long as possible. His lips are slightly parted, no wrinkles of a furrowed brow mar his features or crinkle his eyes at the corners and it takes all of your willpower not to reach out and stroke a hand down his cheek just to make sure he’s real.

You're curious to know why he’s in the bed with you, not that you mind, but answers can wait. You can’t resist smoothing your hand down his arm that’s still over your stomach, but when your fingertips reach his knuckles you feel the broken skin and he stirs at the sting your touch must produce.

His eyes flutter open and god damn he’s pretty. No man has any right being that pretty and the song plays in your head again.

I don't want you to be no slave.

That’s a lie, you’d happily let Rick be your slave.

“Morning,” he mumbles and his slight smile seems hesitant.

“Morning to you,” you say. “Why are we still in bed?”

He shrugs one shoulder, “I told Waller you had food poisoning and that she’d have to send someone else to cover us. Figured you could use the sleep.”

He’s covered your asses with Waller and he’s not pissed about it. Curious. The dots still haven’t quite connected so you lift his hand to look at the injury. Bruised knuckles and broken skin, he’s clearly been in a fight. “What happened?”

“I had a bit of unfinished business with a cowboy.”

Cowboy. The name ignites a flurry of memories that flash through your mind like a lightning storm and everything makes sense now.

Rick must have left after you’d fallen asleep, you recall hearing a door close but it’s fuzzy, the memory feeling like a dream. However, it clearly wasn’t, Rick left to track down the cowboy and beat some manners into him.

“Flag, you could get in serious trouble for that.”

“I know,” he sighs as if he doesn’t care, “but he deserved it.”

You nod. The asshole one hundred percent deserved it and you dread to think what would have happened if Rick hadn’t shown up. You lift his hand to your lips and kiss each bruise and cut. He hisses at the worst one on his middle knuckle and you blow gently on it to dull the sting.

“So,” you say after a quiet moment. Keeping your focus on his hand you point out, “it’s morning.”

“So it is,” he agrees.

You turn your head enough to look at him. “You made me a promise.”

The air gets sucked from the room and all you can hear is the hammering of your own heart against your chest. Rick studies your face, perhaps wondering how much you truly remember or if you're still under the influence. The longer the silence prevails and Rick contemplates whatever it is he’s thinking, panic sets in that he’s going to brush it all off and tell you to forget everything he said. You can’t and you won’t.

“Ask me again,” he says so softly you’d have missed it if you hadn’t seen his lips move.

Relief floods you, it’s not that he doesn’t want it, he wants consent. He needs to know you really want it and it wasn’t some drug induced blunder. So you repeat your same words from the night before, “I dare you to kiss me.”

He props himself up on his elbow and he’s still hesitant as he leans over you. He presses his lips to yours softly and you wrap a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue over your bottom lip. He lets out a throaty moan when your tongues meet and his hesitation disappears. Rick pulls your body beneath him and he swirls his hips so you can feel how aroused he is.

He breaks the kiss way sooner than you’d have liked but he’s smirking down at you, “does this prove I don’t hate you?”

You hum and copy his teasing smirk, “maybe, but keep going just so I can be sure.”

“Yes ma’am,” he laughs and dips to kiss you again.

Dabbling in DC: @xoxabs88xox / @petitgateau911

Risking it all for Rick Flag: @cockslut-padalecki

[princessmisery666]

Read this again and the comments, it made me swoon and proud so sharing again.

Say My Name - A DC Mini Series

Summary: Rick goes undercover to put an end to a crime syndicate. He makes the rookie mistake of falling for his mark, Ally. Will he go through with it and arrest her along with her family? Or does Amanda Waller have ulterior motives, as always?

Warnings: 🥰Fluff // 💔Angst // 🤬Language // 🔞Smut // 💋Cheating // 👊🏻canon type violence // 🍺Alcoholism // lovers to enemies // enemies to lovers // betrayal // manipulation //

W/C: 12.7k

Characters: Rick Flag, metahuman!OFC, Amanda Waller, Bruce Wayne (Batfleck).

Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC (Ally), brief Bruce Wayne (Batfleck) x OFC (Ally).

Bingos: @anyfandomgoesbingo // @anyfandomangstbingo // @rickflagbingo // Squares Filled:

Part 1 - any fandom goes - Positions by Ariana Grande

Part 2 - any fandom goes - Batman smut

Part 3 - any fandom angst - Shootout

Part 4 any fandom angst - ex-lovers // Rick Flag - Angry!Rick

Part 1 - Say My Name

W/C: 2.8k Warnings: 🔞🥰💔 Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

Rick has to make a decision; protect the woman he loves or do his job.

Part 2 - Two Birds One Stone

W/C: 3.9k Warnings: 🔞🥰💔 Pairing: Bruce Wayne x OFC

Rick discovers where Ally was during the takedown but he doesn’t like it. Waller gets her claws firmly in Ally and tests her powers.

Part 3 - Honey Trap

W/C: 4.2k Warnings: 🥰💔👊🏻Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

It seems Ally is no longer useful and Waller needs to get rid of her. Can Rick save her?

Part 4 - Shitty Rom-Com

W/C: 2.1k Warnings: 🥰💔Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

Are Rick and Ally safe? Are they together?

Master Lists: Main // DC

Bingos: Any Fandom Goes // Any Fandom Angst // Rick Flag

[princessmisery666]

Next day reblog

Say My Name (mini series) - Part 1 of 4

Series Summary: Rick goes undercover to put an end to a crime syndicate. He makes the rookie mistake of falling for his mark, Ally. Will he go through with it and arrest her along with her family? Or does Amanda Waller have ulterior motives, as always?

Part 1

Summary: Rick has to make a decision to protect the woman he loves or do his job.

Warnings: smut from the off, fluff, angst (what is wrong with me? Why can’t they just be happy? *cries in fangirl*), lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers, betrayal.

W/C: 2.8k

Characters: Rick Flag, metahuman!OFC, Amanda Waller.

Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC (Ally).

Notes: Set after Suicide Squad but before The Suicide Squad (no spoilers - cause f*ck that ending!)

Bingo: @anyfandomgoesbingo Square Filled: Positions by Ariana Grande.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // @cockslut-padalecki // @wonder-cole

Graphics: pics found on google, title card made by me, divider by @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: Series // Main // AFG Bingo

A visible shiver made Ally’s skin prickle under his fingertips, and Rick’s name shuddered from her in a broken whisper. From his place between her legs, he smirked. “That’s my girl,” he praised, chin glistening with her second climax. “I love it when you say my name like that,” he confessed for maybe the hundredth time, crawling up her body, licking the sweat that seeped from her pores.

The weeks between meeting Ally and finally getting her into his bed, he’d fantasized about watching goosebumps decorate her sun-kissed skin from his touch, longed to taste her every flavor, drove himself crazy thinking about burying his face in her breasts, sucking a mark into the sensitive flesh, ached to hear her pretty sounds bleed into passionate screams as his cock throbbed inside of her, so whenever given a chance, he did it all.

He prodded his dick at her entrance and delivered a bruising kiss to her already swollen lips, sliding his cock through her wet heat, nudging and slapping his tip against her clit. “Say it, again.”

She pressed her lips together in a tight line; he loved this game they played. Hearing her say his name was his favorite sound, and she knew it. It was a sweet song that rolled off her tongue, especially when the last syllable got lost in a hitched breath. But she made him work for it every time.

“Babe,” she groaned, needy and impatient. Her back arched, trying to get him to slip inside of her frustratingly empty channel. “You know you shouldn’t tease me.”

His grin turned wicked, and he sat back, butt resting on his heels, his length still tormenting her as it glided, through her folds, up and down. “You’ve cum twice; how am I teasing?”

“Fine,” she huffed and reached for him, “I’ll do it myself.”

Quicker than she thought possible, he had both her hands pinned at the wrist above her head. “Nuh-uh, baby girl, I’m in charge here.”

“Prove it,” she sassed, “show me how in charge you are.”

Rick wet his lips; he liked this game too. That wicked grin morphed to depraved glee while he repositioned her legs around his waist and palmed his leaking cock, placing it at the edge of her hole.

“Take a breath,” he commanded, and as she breathed in, he shoved forward, breaching her pussy.

The breath howled from her chest in a lewd gasping shriek. He kissed her neck, scraped his teeth along her pulse point and jawline, waiting for her to pant through it.

Rick dragged back slowly. “Every time my hips hit your ass,” the hard muscle and bone of his snapping hips collided with hers with a loud slap that her strangled cry drowned out, “you say my name.”

She whined, “Fuck, Rick.”

“Good girl.”

Rick Flag was many things; brave, patriotic, loyal, confident, and intelligent, except now. He’d made a rookie mistake. He’d fucked up in one of the dumbest ways possible, and watching Ally freshen up through the gap in the bathroom door, he knew he wasn’t quite finished screwing up.

He sits butt-ass naked on the edge of the bed, which seems appropriate as he’s about to be as vulnerable and bare as the day he was born. He stared at the grey carpet; again, it seemed apt, his life wasn’t black and white, and he wondered how he came to find himself navigating the grey areas. Again. Had he not learned his lesson after June? But when he really thought about it, it’s a simple answer. He let himself fall for Ally because she’s easy to love, even the parts of her that aren’t. The wall of insecurity that she kept up because she worried that it was her abilities that drew him to her, like everybody else, and not just simply Ally. Kind, stubborn, sweet, reckless, bad-ass, sassy, take no shit from anyone Ally. It took some convincing, but he’d proven that he was immune to her powers of persuasion. She hadn’t understood how and he would have confessed that he took a suppressant - he hadn’t asked where Waller got it from - right then and there if he could have done so without revealing who he really was.

“I don’t know how, baby,” he’d lied, kissing her forehead, “I just know it doesn’t work.”

She tried once more, her hands wrapped around his forearms, eyes locked, training his focus on her. A mauve-colored mist flowed from her hands and swirled around his arms. Rick felt a slight tingle under his skin, like a feather being brushed along his nerve endings, but before it reached his shoulder, it disappeared.

Her tone changed, thick honey layered with a husky echo, “Tell me your deepest desire, Rick,” Ally commanded. She’d never need to use her powers on him if she just said his name like that every time.

His face slackened, and his voice lowered to a barely audible whisper, “my deepest desire,” he started. Hurt painted her features, a hopeful smile dropping to a disheartened scowl. Rick smiled broadly and launched himself at her, knocking her flat on the bed, caging her beneath him. She yelped in surprise but didn’t otherwise fight him off. He continued, “is for you to say my name like that till you can’t remember what it is.”

A happy grin pulled her lips back. “Asshole.”

“Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

She kissed him, and it felt different from the hundred that had come before it. She’d never been hesitant before, but now she seemed timid.

He broke their connection, worry creasing his brow, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Rick, I’m not,” her voice wavered, and she cleared whatever the doubt was with a small cough but shied from his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?”

“Us,” she said, wriggled out from under him, and swung her legs off the bed.

“What?” he asked and was glad she’d turned her back to him so she couldn’t see the panic flooding through him like a tidal wave.

“My powers,” she said, watching the mauve mist of her power twist around her fingers, “allow me to know someone’s true intentions. If I don’t know what yours are, I don’t know…” her shoulders slumped.

He pulled himself to sit beside her, “You mean you don’t know how to be vulnerable?”

She nodded, despair screaming from her hazel eyes as she turned them on him. “Yeah. To give myself to someone so completely without...knowing. I don’t know how to be with someone who I have to trust on blind faith.”

“I’m gonna show you how,” he promised, “if you’ll let me.”

Light flooded the room as Ally exited the bathroom before shutting off the light, leaving only the lamp’s soft glow. His heartbeat accelerated, fight or flight adrenaline pumped through his veins in a last-ditch attempt to stop him from doing what he was about to do.

Her feet entered his downcast vision, he’d been staring at the chipped nail polish on her toes for too long, but he wasn’t sure he could face her. Hands gently cradled his face, and she lifted his head to force the eye contact he was reluctant to make. Whatever his expression was, it provoked worry in her, and she asked gently, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Rick rested his hands on her hips, squeezed momentarily to ground himself. It was always a gamble to say those three words, never more so than now, but he was ready to risk it all; he had to be.

“I love you,” he said and hated that he made it sound like it was a bad thing.

Her eyes filled with tears, and her lips curled into a happy smile, as they should. It was the first time either of them had said it; it should have been a joyous occasion. But it wasn’t, at least not for him.

“I love you too,” she admitted and pressed her lips to his.

She made the kiss deeper, tongues meeting in a familiar dance, and straddled his lap. He ran his hands along her legs, up her back, committing each blemish and scar to memory as he clasped his hand at the back of her neck.

Pulling her back, he met her eyes with a wrecked stare, “say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I really hope that’s true,” said Rick, taking a deep breath and manhandling her not so gently to a seat beside him so he could stand up. He paced in the small space the bedroom offered. Thinking over the same things he’d gone over a million times, there must be a way he could protect her without fucking everything up. “I’d do anything for you,” he admitted, stopping to look her in the eye. “I want a life with you, cooking breakfast on a Sunday morning while you dance around in my shirt, then I want you to meet my parents on Monday. Be all charming at the dinner table. My mom would swoon, my dad would be impressed with how I managed to nab such a beautiful and wonderful woman, but then I’d fuck you in the bathroom before dessert.” She hummed in agreement, but he wasn’t done. “I wanna do laundry with you, grocery shopping, everything. I wanna walk your dog on the beach with you.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“So we’ll get one.” He ran his hands through his hair and left them there, tugging slightly to focus on something other than the crippling fear in his chest. He stared earnestly, wishing she could use her power, so he wouldn’t have to say it out loud.

He doesn’t like how she says his name that time, a crack of fear she can’t quite mask. “Rick, what’s going on?”

Nauseated with worry that she’s going to disappear right before his eyes, which he’s afraid she will when he tells her the truth. “I’ve got three thousand dollars stashed in my closet; you can take it, get on a bus, leave town. I can meet you in like a week, and then we can disappear.”

“I can’t leave; tomorrow is the big meet, you know that.” She laughed nervously as the thought of ‘has he gone insane?’ traveled across her face.

“Don’t come tomorrow,” he begged, dropping to his knees at her feet.

“Don’t,” she warned, anger starting to cut through the worry. “I’ve earned my place at that table, just like you.”

He understood how hard she’d worked to earn the trust and respect of her family. “This isn’t about what you’ve earned, Ally.”

“Then what is it about?” she pleaded, hands on his cheeks, and he felt the prickle of her power. He didn’t take it personally; it was a habit she couldn’t break. “You’re not making any sense. You tell me you love me, then rant on about running away. I love you, baby, whatever it is just, tell me.”

“Fuck I hope you do cause I’m about to blow up my whole fuckin’ life, and it’s not gonna be pretty.” He sighed, heavy and regretful, held her eyes for a minute, taking everything in, just in case it was the last time he got the chance to.

He kissed her, desperate and hard. When it all became too much, and she was so breathless she had to push against his chest, he granted her release. Tears pooled in his eyes, anxiety pouring out the only way it could. “Ally, my name isn’t Rick Jones; it’s Rick Flag. Colonel Rick Flag, I’m with an elite Special Forces unit. Tomorrow, at the meet, my team is gonna storm in and arrest everybody.”

“What?” she gasped and searched his face for the punchline, the tell in his eyes to show it was all a joke.

“I’m sorry,” he implored, “I’m so sorry. But you have to believe me; everything I ever told you, everything we shared in this room, was the truth.”

“Why are you telling me now?”

“Cause I love you, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Her hands dropped from his face, and this was it—this is the moment he loses her, and the deplorable dread fizzles in his gut like acid. She stood up and stepped around him, snatching her clothes from where he threw them in his haste to get her naked.

He slumped, back hitting the bed painfully, but it barely registered as he watched her rush to get dressed, rush to leave him.

“I trusted you,” Ally said, shoving her legs into the tight denim jeans, “I vouched for you, I brought you in. You made me fall for you and...and…”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? For screwing me or using me to screw over my boss? Who also happens to be my brother!” she growled, not expecting an answer as she gathered up her sneakers.

“Ally, please. If you go to that meeting tomorrow, you won’t end up in some high max prison,” Rick explained, one last-ditch attempt to convince her he was trying to save her. “It’ll be some black site, off the grid; they’ll wipe any record you ever existed.” His voice quivered with barely contained emotion. “I won’t be able to save you.”

“I wouldn’t need saving if you weren’t here,” she snapped, marching toward the door.

“Wait,” he called out so desperately she stopped. He felt pathetic, this wasn’t who he was, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Say my name, please.”

She shook her head and continued to leave without saying a word.

It was never going to go smoothly. The bad guys were never going to go quietly. But once the dust settled and the yelling stopped, and the bad guys that managed not to get a bullet to the brain were herded like cattle into the waiting riot vans, Rick breathed a little easier. Well, not easier, the nine-millimeter in his gut made breathing difficult, but the relief that Ally wasn’t among the dead or arrested helped dull the pain.

He limped toward the riot van, a paramedic hot on his heels, berating him for being an idiot and bleeding all over his boots.

“Yo, Max,” he called, leaning on the open door to the full van, “Where’s Ally? She was supposed to be here.”

Max, her asshole of a brother that Rick had never liked, regarded him for a moment, cogs turning behind his fury-filled eyes, and suddenly recognition sparked. “Did she know? Is she the one who ratted us out?”

Rick didn’t hesitate in his denial, “No.”

“So, where is she?” Max asked, “why isn’t she in here with us?”

“We had a fight.” Not a complete lie. “She took off last night, and I haven’t seen her since.” Also, not a lie, but now he was worried that he’d inadvertently made Ally a pariah within her family.

“Flag,” Waller called from somewhere behind him, but he held Max’s suspicious eyes. He couldn’t back down. If something were to go wrong and Max was set free - highly unlikely with Amanda Waller in charge - Rick knew Max would have Ally killed if he even had a slight suspicion that she was the one who set them up.

Rick had played a role for nine months; he was good at faking it, acting a particular type of way even when he didn’t feel it, so he fixed a cocky smile to his face. “You may as well tell us,” he suggested, “we’ll catch up with her eventually, throw her fine ass in jail too.”

“Colonel Flag,” Waller shouted louder, patience non-existent.

“Watch your back, Colonel,” Max sneered.

“I’d say don’t drop the soap,” Rick jested, “but I’m not sure they have soap where you’re going, buddy.”

The cops standing by followed his nodded instruction to close the doors, and Rick shuffled off toward Amanda.

“You’re a mess,” Waller acknowledged, “get to the hospital, I need a full briefing, and you can’t do that while you’re bleeding out.”

He tried to sound casual and nonchalant, but the blood loss made him lightheaded, and he failed. “Any word on Ally?”

Amanda, always one step ahead, smiled knowingly while she followed the paramedics that guided him toward the waiting ambulance. “We picked her up not long after she left your apartment last night.” Confusion knitted his brow, and Waller took pleasure in that. “What? Did you think we didn’t have eyes and ears on the place? Come on, Flag, you know me better than that.”

“You have to let me see her,” Rick implored, resisting the help offered. “Please, Waller, I need to see her.”

“Get yourself cleaned up,” she nodded toward the ambulance. “Then we’ll talk.”

Part 2 - Wednesday 20th October 2021

Tags:

Dabbling in DC: @xoxabs88xox // @petitgateau911

Risking it all for Rick Flag: @cockslut-padalecki

Say My Name series: @loverhymeswith // @b3autyfuldisast3r // @harper-emory-writes

Tag lists open

[princessmisery666]

Series complete 🤩

Say My Name - A DC Mini Series

Summary: Rick goes undercover to put an end to a crime syndicate. He makes the rookie mistake of falling for his mark, Ally. Will he go through with it and arrest her along with her family? Or does Amanda Waller have ulterior motives, as always?

Warnings: 🥰Fluff // 💔Angst // 🤬Language // 🔞Smut // 💋Cheating // 👊🏻canon type violence // 🍺Alcoholism // lovers to enemies // enemies to lovers // betrayal // manipulation //

W/C: 12.7k

Characters: Rick Flag, metahuman!OFC, Amanda Waller, Bruce Wayne (Batfleck).

Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC (Ally), brief Bruce Wayne (Batfleck) x OFC (Ally).

Bingos: @anyfandomgoesbingo // @anyfandomangstbingo // @rickflagbingo // Squares Filled:

Part 1 - any fandom goes - Positions by Ariana Grande

Part 2 - any fandom goes - Batman smut

Part 3 - any fandom angst - Shootout

Part 4 any fandom angst - ex-lovers // Rick Flag - Angry!Rick

Part 1 - Say My Name

W/C: 2.8k Warnings: 🔞🥰💔 Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

Rick has to make a decision; protect the woman he loves or do his job.

Part 2 - Two Birds One Stone

W/C: 3.9k Warnings: 🔞🥰💔 Pairing: Bruce Wayne x OFC

Rick discovers where Ally was during the takedown but he doesn’t like it. Waller gets her claws firmly in Ally and tests her powers.

Part 3 - Honey Trap

W/C: 4.2k Warnings: 🥰💔👊🏻Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

It seems Ally is no longer useful and Waller needs to get rid of her. Can Rick save her?

Part 4 - Shitty Rom-Com

W/C: 2.1k Warnings: 🥰💔Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

Are Rick and Ally safe? Are they together?

Master Lists: Main // DC

Bingos: Any Fandom Goes // Any Fandom Angst // Rick Flag

[princessmisery666]

Next day reblog

Breaking Point

Summary: Rick Flag is uptight and it’s abundantly clear he hates you. But loose lips, a mission gone awry and Rick having to save you leads to unexpected confessions that have consequences the morning after.

Warnings: mainly fluff, language, drink spiking, tiny bit of angst, enemies to lovers, bold/flirty reader.

W/C: 4.5k

Characters: Rick Flag, you (no descriptions of body type or ethnicity)

Pairing: Rick Flag x You.

Bingos: @anyfandomfluffbingo // @rickflagbingo Squares Filled:

Fluff - only one bed // “I dare you to kiss me.”

Rick Flag - Mechanic!Rick // “Good to know.”

Notes: Lyrics from Etta James - Breaking Point (I Just Wanna Make Love To You.) For the young'uns I've linked the ad below 😋.

Betas: @cockslut-padalecki - love ya babes // and @lacontroller1991 was kind enough to read through to give some feedback.

Graphics: pic found on google, title card and dividers made by me.

Master Lists: Main // AF Fluff Bingo // Rick Flag

The late afternoon Georgia sun blares down on the black asphalt, causing heat waves on the desolate back road with no sign of any other people as far as the eye can see. Of course that’s where your government issued SUV had broken down. You’d tried to convince Rick to take your flat top, but no he followed the rules, as usual.

But now here you were, smoke billowing out of the exhaust, even after the engine had been shut off and Rick bent over the hood attempting to fix it.

It was like a damn Diet Coke commercial. Sweat made his skin glisten, grease smeared his cheek and every time he swallowed a mouthful of water you’d watch a bead of sweat trickle down his throat into his shirt. The white t-shirt he wore was soaked through, it clung to him in all the right places and the sweat made it practically transparent. You wished he’d just take it off already, but he wouldn’t, because Rick Flag is wound too tight.

For as long as you’ve worked together he’s always been uptight. Never broke any rules, never deviated from the plan unless absolutely necessary and even then he grumbles about it all the fucking while. So when the black SUV broke down a hundred miles from your destination, you knew you’d never hear the end of it.

He straightens and puts his hands on his hips, lips pursed while he glares at the uncooperative vehicle as if his scowl will jump start it to life once again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t. He tilts his head back, and the sun shines down on him making the beads of sweat look like tiny diamonds are dancing on his skin, he brings the water bottle to his lips and the song from the commercial starts playing in your head.

I don't want you to be no slave

I don't want you to work all day

But I want you to be true

And I just wanna make…

“Hey, Colonel Y/L/N,” he calls out, interrupting your perfectly good fantasy.

You’d lost interest in helping a while ago and wandered into the line of trees to find some shade and a better angle to ogle your colleague. He lifts the hem of his t-shirt and bends to wipe his brow, giving you the quickest glimpse of his abs.

“Are you not an engineer?” Rick asks as if reminding you.

You were indeed the engineer, but you knew, even if you found what the problem was, you’d never get the hybrid vehicle working without the specific computer programme you didn't have with you.

“That’s what they pay me for,” you smile.

“So why am I the one sweating my ass off in the Georgia heat trying to get us back on the road?”

“‘Cause,” you say, strolling toward him, “you’d have made one fine ass mechanic in another lifetime,” you wink. “And I like to see you sweat.”

“Don’t make me write you up for inappropriate conduct,” he warns, wiping his dirty hands on a rag.

You roll your eyes. “Jesus you’re extra uptight today!”

“Ah fuck off,” he groans, throwing the rag onto the engine, “we’re screwed and you know it! We’re a hundred miles away from where we need to be and Waller is gonna have my ass ‘cause of it.”

“She understands cars break down, Rick,” you say, “if anything she’ll blame the tech guys for not running a full diagnostic check before they gave us the keys.”

He nods, but his annoyance is evident. “Answer for everything, right?”

You shrug, “pretty much.”

He smirks, fully knowing his remark will get under your skin, “except that time in Quebec.”

It has the desired effect and you want to slap him for bringing it up but that’s what he wants. A reaction. So you give him your own sardonic smirk. “It worked out in the end.”

“I forgot, you're laid back, don’t give a crap, go with the flow, Y/N.” It's not a compliment, it's a sarcastic assessment of your attitude.

“Better than being the highly strung teacher's pet.”

It’s not the first time you’ve had this particular fight and it always ends with Rick giving you the silent treatment, which is fine cause it means you won’t have to listen to him grumble about the plan going awry.

“It’s too hot for this shit!” you say and walk to the trunk.

“Where’re you going?” he asks, watching you grab your bag and head off in the direction you’d come from.

“We passed a town about five miles back,” you call over your shoulder. “I’m going to find a motel.”

“We need to wait here for evac.”

“Seriously, Flag?” you ask, spinning to face him. “We’re on a recon mission, the idea is to be stealthy, stay under the radar. The guys that are already there will have to do a double shift cause I’m not walking a hundred miles to get there, and it’s not like Waller can fly a chopper in and drop us off. I’m sure there’s a garage or a car rental place, we can get going again at first light tomorrow.”

He ponders for a moment and you can see he doesn’t want to agree with the plan, simply because you thought of it. But you don’t wait for him to agree, he doesn’t have to, you’re going whether he follows or not. He can explain to Waller why the team split up.

You're maybe fifty feet from the car by the time he jogs to your side, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Oh-five-hundred start,” he demands, lips set in a straight line.

“Sir, yes, sir,” you salute unnecessary, he doesn’t out rank you. In fact you have more field hours logged than him, a fact you like to rub in whenever the opportunity arises and you always make sure it does.

The motel isn’t exactly the Ritz but you haven’t seen any rodents or cockroaches so it could be worse, you guess. The clerk, obviously reading Rick’s hostile body language, explained, “there’s a cowboy convention over in the next town, so we only have one room left with one bed.”

You’d flashed Rick a look over your shoulder and he looked hella pissed, “you can always go sleep in the car,” you suggested.

“Whatever,” he said and left the office. You handed your card over to the clerk and offered an apologetic smile.

“I’ll flip you for it,” you said to Rick as soon as you entered the room.

“You can take the bed, if I can have the first shower,” he’d countered. It was more than fair trade so you’d agreed. But regimented as he is, he was in and done within ten minutes.

The water was hot and the pressure was adequate so you feel surprisingly refreshed after your walk back into town.

Rick’s at the small kitchen table when you exit the bathroom after your indulgent - longer than ten minutes - shower. He looks up at you but doesn’t comment on the tight jeans and simple white t-shirt you’re wearing.

Finally, the Diet Coke commercial fantasy is complete and you thank the Georgia heat for being unbearable enough that he’s not wearing a shirt. But as relaxed as he looks, shirtless and sockless feet kicked up on the table, he’s still in work mode studying surveillance photos. You shake your head but bite your tongue about reporting him for inappropriate attire while on a mission.

You go back and forth from the bathroom, repacking your stuff so you can sleep in as late as possible and not have to worry about packing in the morning when you feel his eyes stalking your back and forth.

It’s not until you’ve put your boots on and slip into your favorite leather jacket he finally asks, “where’re you going?”

“The bar across the street,” you tell him, putting some cash and your card in your back pocket.

“We’re working.”

“Our job was to watch the Michaelson’s house,” you spread your arms wide and spin in a full circle, “I don’t know if you noticed, but this isn’t the Michaelson’s house! So I'm taking a few hours off and going to get a drink. I’m buying if you’re brave enough to join me.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, and for half a second you think you may have goaded him into joining you but he shakes his head, “I’m good.” and he goes back to studying.

“Don’t you ever let loose, Flag?”

He sighs, frustration and a hint of disbelief you’d even ask the question. “Yeah, of course I do, when I’m back home with my buddies.”

“And when do you ever take time off to go home?”

Rick holds your gaze for the longest moment, doing the mental math of the last time he was home. He looks down at his lap and you pity him. “It’s been a while.”

You know why it’s been a while. He broke up with June. Rumours flew around headquarters around about the same time his demeanour changed and it solidified the gossip. After that, he kept himself occupied with work, taking mission after mission without a break. It’s that thought that makes you realize you don’t want to be that person. All about the job.

“Y’know what,” you say, “you can take the bed.” He looks up at you confused and you continue with a wink, “I’ll find someone else to bunk with.”

“Y/N, we’re on a mission.”

“Don’t worry, Flagster, I’ll be sure to sneak out and be back by five.”

He grits his teeth at the use of the nickname he hates and you take that victory with you as you head for the door.

“Y/N, that’s a dumb move,” he warns, “what happened to being under the radar?”

“I can be under the radar and under someone at the same time,” you wink over your shoulder, “I’m talented like that.”

“Y/N,” he calls.

“Either come with me and keep me out of trouble or rat me out to Waller, those are your choices.”

“You’re really fucking annoying, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, “and you’re really fucking boring. Don’t wait up, Dad.” And with that you breeze out the door.

Forty minutes later Rick walks into the bar, grumbling to himself about it being a bad idea. He spots you immediately, front and centre in the five rows of line dancers doing a simple square dance to a catchy country pop song. You’re wearing a brown leather looking stetson and he wonders which cowboy you’ve chatted up to get it.

He ignores the jolt of jealousy the thought invokes and finds a seat at the end of the bar.

“Club soda,” he tells the barman and settles in for a long night. He knows you’re not going to leave until you’ve had your fun, but he’s not going to let you have enough to be hung over tomorrow. And yes, okay, he wants to make sure you don’t go home with someone else. He tells himself it's for the good of the mission, he’s doing his duty by having his partners back but it’s a lie. After you left the motel room, the idea of you screwing someone buzzed around his head like a swarm of bees and the sting of envy grew too much to ignore.

He’s disappointed but isn’t surprised you don’t notice his presence right away. You're too busy having a good time, dancing and singing and you think he’s boring. So why would you even bother scanning the room for him when you never expect him to show up?

A woman you’ve befriended hands you a shot of something; tequila from what he can gather in the poor lighting and you shoot it back without a second thought. Your face scrunches when the bitter taste hits and you shake your head, tongue sticking out once you’ve swallowed.

Rick can’t help but laugh at the gesture and while he continues to chuckle, your new friend leans closer to whisper something in your ear.

Suddenly your gaze finds him and he raises his glass to you with a small nod of his head. You do a little excited skip and your face breaks into a smile before you rush toward him and his stomach flips that you seem genuinely pleased to see him.

He laughs watching you navigate the tables and people, a little unsteady on your feet and he questions how much you’ve had to drink in the forty minutes before he arrived.

You wrap your arms around his neck and smosh his face against your chest as soon as you reach him. “Yay, Rick is here,” you sing.

He laughs and manages to free himself from your too tight grip but it confirms his suspicion that you’ve definitely had your fill of booze and it’s time to rain on your parade. Then he sees the adorable goofy smile you have for him and it gives him pause. You’ve never looked at him like this before. It’s rare you even genuinely smile in his direction let alone look at him as if he’s just hung the moon.

“Y/N,” he says and watches as you sway unsteadily. He cups your face and dips to look directly into your eyes. Your pupils are blown wide, barely any color left and now he understands the dopey smile. “Fuck, have you taken something?” Even as he asks he knows the answer, you’re carefree and don’t give a shit but you’re not stupid. Before you can answer he continues, “who brought you the drinks?”

He scans the room to see if anyone is watching and he notices a hatless cowboy averting his attention elsewhere when Rick catches his eye.

“Motherfucker,” he spits. He throws some cash on the bar, and knocks the dumb fucking hat off your head before wrapping an arm around your waist. “C’mon, it’s time to go.”

You don’t put up a fight as he marches, part carries you back to the motel and he realizes it's the first time you’ve never fought him on something. You're always clashing over seemingly trivial stuff and he admits it's mostly down to him, but it’s easier that way.

“You awake, Y/N?” he asks as you stumble up the curb outside the room.

You mumble something incoherent and he scoops you up, bridal style for the last twenty feet or so.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lean your head on his shoulder. “Woo, where’d the floor go?” you ask in a sleepy whisper.

He laughs. It’s not funny that some asshole spiked you but the danger has passed. He’s got you and he just needs to keep an eye on you while you sober up.

“You have a nice laugh, Flag. It’s all floaty and sweet.”

“Oh someone’s floating, alright, but it ain’t me,” he says, managing to wrestle the door open without putting you down. He places you gently on the bed and kneels in front of you, checking your eyes again. The fresh air has knocked some sense back into you, your pupils aren’t as big as they were.

“You have really pretty,” you stare into his eyes and it seems the word evades you so you wave a hand around their general area.

He catches your hand and offers a suggestion, “eyes?”

You snap your fingers and smile, “eyes! You have really pretty eyes.”

“Good to know,” he smirks. Whatever they used to spike your drink has given you loose lips and Rick can’t say he minds this version of you.

“Well you have really pretty everything, eyes, nose, arms, abs.”

“Please stop talking,” he begs but his cheeks are tainted pink.

“Okay, well that’s wrong, not everything cause I haven't seen everything cause you won’t let me, but my imagination is pretty good, and oh boy have I imagined it.”

“Y/N,” he cautions and quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, “you gotta stop.” You mumble something he doesn’t quite catch and reluctantly he releases you.

“I’ve imagined that too, you gagging me…”

“Y/N!” he shouts and stands up. You stare up at him like a little lost puppy he just kicked and he hates that he gave you the expression, but he really can’t take your flirting anymore. “Stop it, seriously!”

He waits a beat to make sure you’re not going to fall then goes to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water.

“Why’d you hate me Rick?”

He doesn’t acknowledge he heard you, instead unscrews the lid, picks up your hand and pushes the bottle into it to make sure you have a good grip. “I need you to drink this,” he says.

You shake your head softly. “But it’s so much hotter when you do it.”

He feels his brow crease and you seem to have enough sense left to understand he’s confused.

“Earlier today, when you were fixin’ the car,” you elaborate, “or at least trying to fix the car.” he rolls his eyes, even under the influence of god knows what you can’t help but tease him. “You were all sweaty and had grease stains on your face and every time you swallowed…” your gaze filters down to his throat and he watches you swallow and bite your lip before you seem to remember you had been talking. “I was jealous of every drop of sweat that got to touch your skin and I so desperately wanted to lick…”

Your hand reaches out and your fingers follow the same trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt but before you can go any further he catches your hand and holds it still.

“Stop,” he demands.

“You really do hate me, don’t you?” you decide.

He shakes his head, very slowly to make sure the message registers and pronounces each syllable perfectly. “I don’t hate you.”

“Really?” you ask, brow raised high, “cause you’re always on my ass, arguing with me, undermining me, and don’t think I don’t know you asked Waller to replace me on this mission. You didn’t want me here.”

“That's true,” he nods in agreement and he feels guilty that you know that detail, “but it’s not ‘cause I hate you.”

“Then what is it?”

He sighs. “I’m not doing this, can you just trust that I don’t hate you?”

“Nope,” you pop the p, shaking your head and pouting like a toddler. “You hate me, I know it. I can feel it in my bones, and other places but that’s inappropriate conduct,” you sneer in a terrible rendition of his voice.

“Y/N, this isn’t the time or place and even if it were, what does it matter? You're so high, you probably won’t remember.”

“Then this is the puuuuurfect time and place,” you sneer, “cause if I don't remember you can go back to hating me.”

“Fine,” he growls. He hates that you're so stubborn and won’t let it go but as much as he hates to admit it, your logic is spot on. If you won’t remember tomorrow what difference does it make if he tells you? “I’ll tell you but I need you to lay down for me.”

You eye him suspiciously but concede because you really do feel sleepy. “I’m not letting you get away with this Flag.”

“I know,” he nods and unzips your boot, “I promise as soon as your head hits that pillow, I’ll explain everything.”

You slowly lower yourself to lay flat, “Okay, I’m down. Go.”

He chuckles but unzips your other boot and pulls it off. “I don’t hate you, it’s the opposite of hate actually. I like you, more than I should. But I’ve been down that road, office romances don’t work,” he says, gently tugging the sheets from under you. “But you flirt with me so much it’s getting harder to resist. That’s why I asked Waller to put someone else with me for this mission.” He readjusts your legs so they're tucked under the covers. “I didn’t want to be stuck in a small room with you for forty-eight hours with no one to distract me. So no, Y/N, I don’t hate you,” he admits, smoothing a hand down your cheek. “But I’m trying my damn hardest too.”

“That’s dumb,” you say, “you like me so you make out like you don’t cause you’re trying to hate me.”

“Exactly,” he laughs and shrugs his shoulders, “I didn’t say it makes sense. I’m just trying to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself from what?”

He drops to a seat on the edge of the bed beside you and gives a pitiful smile. “Heartbreak, I guess.”

“I’m not June,” you say and he’s not so sure he likes your loose lips anymore. “It’s not fair of you to tar me with the same brush just cause she broke your heart.”

“I know,” he sighs but doesn’t say anymore. Your eyes droop closed and finally he thinks you’re going to fall asleep and that this will just be a hazy memory tomorrow that hopefully you won’t be brave enough to mention.

“So in conclusion,” you start, voice riddled with the tiredness that you're fighting, “you don’t hate me?”

“I do not hate you.”

“Prove it.” You ponder for a moment, your drug-addled brain trying to think of a logical way he can prove himself. Then it’s like a light pings on and you open your eyes to challenge him. “I dare you to kiss me.”

He stares at you for the longest time, and he hates that he contemplates doing it. It wouldn’t be right. Not in the state you’re in. He knows it’s not what you meant, but he leans in and kisses your cheek. “I’ll kiss you tomorrow, I promise,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, “if you still want me to.”

You sigh heavily through your nose, “so boring, Flagster.” but your eyes are already slipping closed and you shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asks, ignoring the nickname he hates.

“Yeah, cold,” you say softly. “Keep me warm.”

That’s something he can do, so he walks around the bed to get under the covers on the other side and drags you back to rest against his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he can.

You can tell from the light seeping in at the edges of the curtains that it’s way past five when you wake up. But Rick’s arm is draped over your stomach and you can feel the rhythm of his steady breathing against your back. Why did he let you sleep in? There’s no way in hell Rick Flag forgot to set an alarm so why do the red digits on the clock on the nightstand read a little after seven thirty?

As gently as you can you turn over onto your back and Rick’s slumber is picturesque. It's the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him and it's an image you want to hold onto for as long as possible. His lips are slightly parted, no wrinkles of a furrowed brow mar his features or crinkle his eyes at the corners and it takes all of your willpower not to reach out and stroke a hand down his cheek just to make sure he’s real.

You're curious to know why he’s in the bed with you, not that you mind, but answers can wait. You can’t resist smoothing your hand down his arm that’s still over your stomach, but when your fingertips reach his knuckles you feel the broken skin and he stirs at the sting your touch must produce.

His eyes flutter open and god damn he’s pretty. No man has any right being that pretty and the song plays in your head again.

I don't want you to be no slave.

That’s a lie, you’d happily let Rick be your slave.

“Morning,” he mumbles and his slight smile seems hesitant.

“Morning to you,” you say. “Why are we still in bed?”

He shrugs one shoulder, “I told Waller you had food poisoning and that she’d have to send someone else to cover us. Figured you could use the sleep.”

He’s covered your asses with Waller and he’s not pissed about it. Curious. The dots still haven’t quite connected so you lift his hand to look at the injury. Bruised knuckles and broken skin, he’s clearly been in a fight. “What happened?”

“I had a bit of unfinished business with a cowboy.”

Cowboy. The name ignites a flurry of memories that flash through your mind like a lightning storm and everything makes sense now.

Rick must have left after you’d fallen asleep, you recall hearing a door close but it’s fuzzy, the memory feeling like a dream. However, it clearly wasn’t, Rick left to track down the cowboy and beat some manners into him.

“Flag, you could get in serious trouble for that.”

“I know,” he sighs as if he doesn’t care, “but he deserved it.”

You nod. The asshole one hundred percent deserved it and you dread to think what would have happened if Rick hadn’t shown up. You lift his hand to your lips and kiss each bruise and cut. He hisses at the worst one on his middle knuckle and you blow gently on it to dull the sting.

“So,” you say after a quiet moment. Keeping your focus on his hand you point out, “it’s morning.”

“So it is,” he agrees.

You turn your head enough to look at him. “You made me a promise.”

The air gets sucked from the room and all you can hear is the hammering of your own heart against your chest. Rick studies your face, perhaps wondering how much you truly remember or if you're still under the influence. The longer the silence prevails and Rick contemplates whatever it is he’s thinking, panic sets in that he’s going to brush it all off and tell you to forget everything he said. You can’t and you won’t.

“Ask me again,” he says so softly you’d have missed it if you hadn’t seen his lips move.

Relief floods you, it’s not that he doesn’t want it, he wants consent. He needs to know you really want it and it wasn’t some drug induced blunder. So you repeat your same words from the night before, “I dare you to kiss me.”

He props himself up on his elbow and he’s still hesitant as he leans over you. He presses his lips to yours softly and you wrap a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue over your bottom lip. He lets out a throaty moan when your tongues meet and his hesitation disappears. Rick pulls your body beneath him and he swirls his hips so you can feel how aroused he is.

He breaks the kiss way sooner than you’d have liked but he’s smirking down at you, “does this prove I don’t hate you?”

You hum and copy his teasing smirk, “maybe, but keep going just so I can be sure.”

“Yes ma’am,” he laughs and dips to kiss you again.

Dabbling in DC: @xoxabs88xox / @petitgateau911

Risking it all for Rick Flag: @cockslut-padalecki

[princessmisery666]

Coming tomorrow.

Tag list open. 🏷

Say My Name - A DC Mini Series

Summary: Rick goes undercover to put an end to a crime syndicate. He makes the rookie mistake of falling for his mark, Ally. Will he go through with it and arrest her along with her family? Or does Amanda Waller have ulterior motives, as always?

Warnings: 🥰Fluff // 💔Angst // 🤬Language // 🔞Smut // 💋Cheating // 👊🏻canon type violence // 🍺Alcoholism // lovers to enemies // enemies to lovers // betrayal // manipulation //

W/C: 12.7k

Characters: Rick Flag, metahuman!OFC, Amanda Waller, Bruce Wayne (Batfleck).

Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC (Ally), brief Bruce Wayne (Batfleck) x OFC (Ally).

Bingo: @anyfandomgoesbingo // @anyfandomangstbingo Square Filled: Part 1 - Positions by Ariana Grande. Part 2 - batman smut. Part 3 - Shootout

Part 1 - Say My Name - Monday 18th October

W/C: 2.8k Warnings: 🔞🥰💔 Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

Rick has to make a decision; protect the woman he loves or do his job.

Part 2 - Two Birds One Stone - Wednesday 20th October

W/C: 3.9k Warnings: 🔞🥰💔 Pairing: Bruce Wayne x OFC

Rick discovers where Ally was during the takedown but he doesn’t like it. Waller gets her claws firmly in Ally and tests her powers.

Part 3 - Honey Trap - Friday 22nd October

W/C: 4.2k Warnings: 🥰💔👊🏻Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

It seems Ally is no longer useful and Waller needs to get rid of her. Can Rick save her?

Part 4 - Shitty Rom-Com - Sunday 24th October

W/C: 2.1k Warnings: 🥰💔Pairing: Rick Flag x OFC

Are Rick and Ally safe? Are they together?

Series Tag List Open - drop me an ASK // DM // Reblog or comment but tell me you want to be tagged 😁😁

Master Lists: Main // AFG Bingo // AFA Bingo // DC