Warnings: cheating, language, 2016 Rick, June is a bitch, hint at possession, hint at nonconsensual kissing
==========
You really should’ve known. You really should’ve known that when you said the first ‘I love you’ and he didn’t say it back. You really should’ve known that Rick Flag was not over June Moone. But it was really a nail in the head when you caught her on top of him in his office, the two of them locking lips. Rick was only alerted to your presence when he heard your gasp followed by the drop of your coffee and his, coffee he had asked you to get.
It’s been a week since the incidence and you avoided him like the plague, even going as far as asking Waller to assign you to any secondary team, away from the Colonel. But, as all things go, you can’t avoid him forever. Which leads to now, him walking into your office with a bouquet of flowers, your favorite flowers. “Oh look, you remembered my favorite flowers…” He sighs and moves to take another step into your office. You’re quick to put a stop to it. “I don’t want to see you.”
“Are you busy? Can I talk to you for a minute?” You don’t look up from your computer. “Please, let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain. You’re not over that witch. I get it. But please, leave me the hell alone.”
“No, you don’t get it. I’m over her. She came onto me. I couldn’t stop her.”
“That’s bullshit, Richard. You’re twice her size, three times as strong, and you can’t pick her off your lap and tell her to stop? Is that what you call an apology? If so, kindly, fuck off.” You return to your screen, typing away at the report Waller had assigned to you when Rick sets the flowers down and plops himself in your chair, placing his chin in the palm of his hand.
“I don’t know what came over me, darlin’. It was like I didn’t have control over my own body. It felt like I couldn’t move.”
“So you’re saying she possessed you?” You raise an eyebrow as you lean back in your seat.
“I don’t know. Maybe? All I know is I would never do that to you. Ever. And I’m sorry I did.”
“Did you just hear yourse.. never mind. Look. Do you love her?”
“No. I did. But I don’t anymore. You’re the one I want.”
“Then why did you not say it back, Rick? Why did you not say you love me?”
“Because I was scared. But I’m not anymore,” he moves in front of your chair and sinks to his knees, taking your hands in his. “I love you (Y/N). And I’m sorry I kissed her. But at least I know for certain now that you’re the only one that I love. Please, forgive me? Can we move past this?”
You pull your hands from his and think for a moment. If you’re being honest with yourself, the past week without him has been hell. Between lack of sleep and failure to achieve sexual gratification, you never realized how badly you need Rick Flag. Giving a small sigh, you take his face in your hands and press a kiss to his forehead before leaning back in your seat.
“Richard Flag, if you ever fucking do that again. I will make your life hell. Understand?”
He gulps thickly but presses a chaste kiss to your lips either way. “I promise, you won’t regret giving me a second chance.”
So this story is inspired by this LOVELY picture of Joel in his new movie also inspired by a convo with @ijustthinkrickflagisprettyneat
Also this story was deleted (thanks Tumblr) so I had to completely rewrite it (this time on google docs). A HUGE THANK YOU to @edwardbaldwin for beta reading this long whirlwind of a fic.
Warnings: 18+, guns, blood, knifes, murder, language, holding a person gun point, gaslighting, killing for money, fighting
Word Count: 2.6k
==========
The sun has barely begun to rise when Isaac steps foot into the apartment. The beams that have started to trickle through the windows illuminate a thin, sheer lining of dust that settles among various spots in the apartment, spots barely used by Isaac. Toeing off his bloody combat boots, Isaac quickly makes his way over to his safe and unloads his holsters before securely locking them up. Off in the distance he hears sirens rushing down the street of Indianapolis, probably now just finding his latest kill.
Like clockwork, his phone chimes, alerting him to a new message. ‘Job well done. Money is wired into your account.’ Isaac rolls his eyes and pockets his phone. It’s not like he wants to kill people for a living, but what is left for a guy like him? A guy with his background? There’s no way Isaac could get a decent, honest job. Not anymore.
Sneaking into the bedroom, he lets a soft smile spread on his face when he sees you lying underneath the covers. Creeping over, he presses a kiss to your forehead before making his way over to the bathroom and guilt creeps in. He hates having to lie to you, but if you knew what he does, who he truly is, he knows you would leave him in a heartbeat. When Isaac had first started his new occupation, he had always made it a rule to move from city to city and to never stay in one place for too long, but when he met you, he was helpless. So now, Isaac works at a prison as a security guard. Or so you believe. And he hates it. Nothing about him that you know is real, except his love for you.
Stepping into the bathroom, he’s quick to shuck off his vest and clothes and shuck them into his laundry hamper, thankful for their stark black color or else it would be very obvious of the blood that soaks it. Turning on the water, Isaac turns it all the way hot, eager to wash away the grime of the night.
So this story is inspired by this LOVELY picture of Joel in his new movie also inspired by a convo with @ijustthinkrickflagisprettyneat
Also this story was deleted (thanks Tumblr) so I had to completely rewrite it (this time on google docs). A HUGE THANK YOU to @edwardbaldwin for beta reading this long whirlwind of a fic.
Warnings: 18+, guns, blood, knifes, murder, language, holding a person gun point, gaslighting, killing for money, fighting
Word Count: 2.6k
==========
The sun has barely begun to rise when Isaac steps foot into the apartment. The beams that have started to trickle through the windows illuminate a thin, sheer lining of dust that settles among various spots in the apartment, spots barely used by Isaac. Toeing off his bloody combat boots, Isaac quickly makes his way over to his safe and unloads his holsters before securely locking them up. Off in the distance he hears sirens rushing down the street of Indianapolis, probably now just finding his latest kill.
Like clockwork, his phone chimes, alerting him to a new message. ‘Job well done. Money is wired into your account.’ Isaac rolls his eyes and pockets his phone. It’s not like he wants to kill people for a living, but what is left for a guy like him? A guy with his background? There’s no way Isaac could get a decent, honest job. Not anymore.
Sneaking into the bedroom, he lets a soft smile spread on his face when he sees you lying underneath the covers. Creeping over, he presses a kiss to your forehead before making his way over to the bathroom and guilt creeps in. He hates having to lie to you, but if you knew what he does, who he truly is, he knows you would leave him in a heartbeat. When Isaac had first started his new occupation, he had always made it a rule to move from city to city and to never stay in one place for too long, but when he met you, he was helpless. So now, Isaac works at a prison as a security guard. Or so you believe. And he hates it. Nothing about him that you know is real, except his love for you.
Stepping into the bathroom, he’s quick to shuck off his vest and clothes and shuck them into his laundry hamper, thankful for their stark black color or else it would be very obvious of the blood that soaks it. Turning on the water, Isaac turns it all the way hot, eager to wash away the grime of the night.
The sun filters in between your blinds, waking you from your deep slumber. Slowly sitting up in your bed, you stretch beneath the covers and look around the room, noticing that the bathroom door is open. Good, he’s home. Pushing back the covers, you’re quick to strip out of your clothes and push your way into the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, you wrap your arms around Isaac’s midsection, causing him to jump.
“Shit, baby. You scared me.” He quickly turns around under the stream of water and you jump back, your hands flying to his face to inspect the large gash on his forehead.
“Isaac, what happened? Are you okay?”
Isaac takes your hands and pushes them down as he rolls his eyes. “Yes, darlin’. ‘m fine. There was a brawl at the prison.” Lies. “You should see the other guy.”
“I really don’t like the hours you have to work,” you sigh, grabbing your loofah and loading up on soap before running it over your arms. “I mean, look at that. You got hurt and you look exhausted. Do you at least have the day off?”
Isaac wishes he does, but he has a list of clients and appointments he has to deal with. “I wish honey, but I have to go in at 4 again.” Your frown deepens and Isaac feels bad. He’s barely around and he knows it’s starting to annoy you. “But I promise, once I have enough hours saved up, we can go to France like you want.” He loves to watch the way your eyes light up and he hopes he never sees them dim. “How does that sound?”
“I think that sounds mighty fine, mister. Now how ‘bout we grab some food and go to bed?
“I couldn’t agree more.”
———-
It’s nearly 6 pm in the evening when the door knocks, startling you. Setting your iPad down, you make your way over to your door with curiosity. You only recently moved into the city so you don’t really know anybody besides Isaac, so you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. Peering through the peephole, you immediately jump back when you see a white painted face with messy eyeshadow. “Heeelllloooo, Flag. Ya home?” Flag? Who’s that? Deciding against your best personal interest, you swing open the door and come face to face with none other than the Queen of Crime herself. “Oh, hi there! Who are you?”
“Uh?” You look her up and down a couple of times in confusion. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for my friend. I saw him enter this apartment a couple of times and I needta speak with him.”
“I’m sorry, you must got the wrong person. I live here with my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, Flag. Rick? Richard? Colonel? Yay high, beefy, broody? I swear I saw him come in here.” She pushes past you and into your apartment and looks around the decorations before spotting a picture frame of you and Isaac taken last month. “See! Here he is! Mr. Government Agent. I told you I saw him. Anyways I need to speak with Flag.”
“I’m sorry. I really don’t know who you’re talking about. That’s Isaac and I last month. No one named Rick or Flag lives here,” you comment, taking back the frame from her hand as her eyes widen.
A sudden ding of Harley’s phone has her pulling out the device and looking it over, ‘Get out of my house before I kill you, Harls.’
“Oh you’re right sweetcheeks. Silly old me. I’ll get out of your way!” She bolts for the door before you can even say anything else, leaving you alone to your thoughts.
———-
About an hour later you still can’t get her words out of your mind. She seemed very insistent that Isaac is this… Rick Flag. Thinking more on it, you stop cutting the vegetables and stare at his safe, you’ve never been allowed to see what’s inside. The thought alone piques your interest as you stalk over to the large metal safe only to find it securely locked with a code. Silently cursing yourself, you start inputting codes you know Isaac uses, only for none of them to work. Sighing in defeat, you walk over to the window and stare out to the busy streets. What could he be hiding in there? Despite trying your best to shake it off, it only makes your curiosity grow more and more as you try to think about what the code could possibly be. I’ve tried his birthday, my birthday, his mother’s birthday, our first date, his mother’s death. Wait no. I didn’t try that one. Scurrying over to the safe, you hastily type in the day his mother died and let out a sigh of relief when the light turns green.
“Thank God.” Opening the heavy metal door, you look into the locker and don’t see anything out of the unusual, well, maybe the heavy arsenal he has. “Never knew he is that into guns,” you muse to yourself before spotting a small box sitting on the top shelf. Taking the box down, you stare at its design: a simple oak box with copper hinges and the initials R.F. engraved to the top. Initials of Rick Flag. Moving over to the kitchen island, you sit down on the bar stool before gently lifting the cover. Your stomach churns at the sight.
In the box rests numerous different photos. Some photos from his army platoon, some photos from crazily dressed lunatics - including Harley - and it’s when you see his graduation photo from West Point that you realize Rick Flag’s hazel eyes are the same eyes you have fallen in love with.
In a shock, you drop the box and its contents spread everywhere against the floor. Sinking to your knees, you pick up each and every individual object before grabbing a hold of his dog tags. Isaac was never in the military. “What are you doing?”
———-
Isaac impatiently taps his foot in the elevator as he cracks his neck, sweat dripping down his skin. When he first got the alert that someone went into his apartment without his knowledge, he immediately pulled up the camera recording only to see Harley Quinn there. His heart stopped, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t be dumb enough to spill his secret. After quickly sending her a little message and seeing her promptly disappear, Isaac let out a sigh of relief, thankful that the situation was avoided. It wasn’t until about an hour later when he was in the middle of a kill when he got the notification that something or someone was trying to break into his safe. He had immediately finished his job and ran home, running as fast as he could. Best of the worst case scenario, you just needed a gun to protect yourself. Worst case scenario, you found his box.
As soon as the elevator door opens to his floor, he bolts out and draws the gun from his hip before coming into your shared apartment. Looks like no forced entry, no one trying to get in. So that only means one thing.
Isaac gulps as he hesitantly opens the door only to see you sprawled out on the floor reaching for his objects. His heart stops. “What are you doing?”
———-
You jump back hearing his voice and immediately grab a gun from the safe, pointing it at Isaac, or Rick. “Who the fuck are you?” Rick doesn’t make no move but lets out a sigh of frustration.
“Look darlin’, why don’t we put the gun down?”
“I asked, who the fuck are you?” You remain solid in your stance and if it wasn’t for the situation, he would have been proud.
“Baby. It’s me. Isaac,” Rick tries his best to convince you, but by the way you make no move, he knows he isn’t following anybody. “Let’s talk about this.”
“No. No,” you shake your head, aiming the gun a little higher, “you’re a stranger in my apartment.”
Rick thinks for a moment and he wants to make a quip back about how technically it’s his apartment, but that’s another discussion for a later date. “Honey, please. Put down the gun.”
“Not until you tell me who the hell you are.” Rick hangs his head in defeat, knowing he lost. “Not until you tell me who the fuck ‘Colonel Rick Flag, Afghanistan war hero’ is.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you everything, just please, put down the gun.” After a minute of silence you slowly lower your aim and Rick sighs in relief. “Ok, what I’m about to tell you, it’s classified. Inner government type stuff, so bear with me okay? My name is Richard Montgomery Flag, I was a Colonel of the US. Army until I got blacklisted. I was the leader of a group of criminals called Task Force X and we went on numerous missions to recover intel on various subjects. We had a mission to Corto Maltese to recover information about Project Starfish but it went sideways and I almost died. That’s where I got the scar on my chest. We were formed under the supervision of Amanda Waller and she’s the reason I’m having to use a secret name, she’s the reason I can no longer go by Rick Flag.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s evil, darlin’. I was trying to save our country and Corto Maltese and she blew it all up in our faces, so I’ve been on the run ever since.”
“So you’re not a security guard?”
“I was, but no, I am not currently.” You let all the information sink in before one question formulates in your head.
“Then what do you do?” Silence. “Isa- I mean, Rick?”
Rick sighs as he looks down at the palm of his hands, blood staining underneath his fingernails. “Don’t freak. I kill people for money.” He closes his eyes and waits for the screaming and the hitting, but nothing follows. Slowly, he opens his eyes and stares at you, a few shades paler than normal. “Say something. Please.”
“How much? How much do you have?”
“19 mil.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Knife after knife pierces into your heart. Sure you can understand the need for a new identity, but having you pay for the apartment and him not even helping? It hurt more than you thought it would. “I have been paying for everything, Isaac. Everything. Apartment, car, food, gas, everything.”
“Not entirely true,” his words are soft but it makes you seethe.
“What do you mean ‘not entirely true’? Have you been fucking with my money?” His silence is all you need before you’re grabbing the gun again and pointing it at him. “Where is my money?”
“In an account. Safe. I’ve been paying for everything. All of your money has gone back into a private account that only you can access. I haven’t touched your money.” You throw the gun down and pace over to the window, looking at the setting sun as tears prickle your eyes.
“Has anything even been real? I don’t even know anything about you,” you sob away from him, not wanting him - a stranger - to see you weak. Rick takes a careful step towards you before wrapping his arms around your frame, drawing you into him as you sob into his chest.
“I know my love for you has been extremely real. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you.”
“How am I even supposed to trust you?”
“You’re not, but just know, I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you. If you’ll let me? We can work through this.” He falls to his knees in your arms and places kisses on the back of your hand before staring up at you through his brown lashes. “Please, can we start over?”
“I don’t know Isaac. I mean you kill for a living, I don’t think I can be with someone who does that.”
“I’ll stop. I’ll find a job, an honest job, that doesn’t involve me killing anybody, just, please.” You break away from his grasp and stare out the window thinking over what you just heard. This time, Rick doesn’t make a move, wanting to allow you to have all the time to think.
If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve known for a while that he’s not been truthful. You’ve occasionally seen a spot or two of blood or a really torn shirt but despite the evidence, you chose to overlook it in denial. So who’s fault is it really? Still his, a voice comments in your mind, he never even told you his real name, imagine what else he hasn’t told you.
You shrug the thought out of your head before turning back to him, still sitting on his knees and looking down at his hands, almost in disgust. Least he feels guilty. Walking over to him, you reach a hand out and grip his chin, forcing him to look up at you. “No more lies?”
“I swear, darlin’. I will nevereverlie to you again.”
“Alrighty then,” you help guide him up. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You stick your hand out for him to take and he does immediately, somewhat relieved to see your gesture.
