Another prompt ficlet! @skyromaniac-05 requested “Rick thirsting over Harley” and this was the result. Given the nature of the prompt, this one’s a spicy one so feel free to skip if that’s not your thing.
Rick has to suppress a groan at the sight that greets him when he walks into the kitchen. Harley, wearing one of his t-shirts (the yellow one with the bunny on it that she seems to be obsessed with) and making coffee. The shirt hits about mid-thigh and he knows for a fact that she’s not wearing shorts underneath. She stands on tiptoe to reach something from the cupboard and the shirt rides up—giving him a glimpse of the black boyshorts she’s wearing.
It’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.
She squeaks when he comes up behind her and snakes his arms around her waist. His lips go to her exposed shoulder and he teases, “Been wondering where that shirt went.”
Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun—leaving her neck on display. He starts pressing lingering kisses along the length of her throat. She tilts her head to the side to give him easier access. “What’re you doing up so early?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she gasps, as he nips at a particularly sensitive spot.
“Nightmare?” he asks, immediately turning serious. He doesn’t usually sleep through them but there’s a first time for everything.
“No,” she replies as she leans into his embrace. “Just woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“They’re getting better.”
“Yep.” She turns around in his arms and smiles up at him.
He decides to change the subject. “Seriously, where was this thing?” he asks in reference to the shirt she’s wearing.
She giggles. “I may or may not have stolen it from your laundry pile last month.”
“So you’re just gonna keep stealing my shirts?”
“Yep!”
“You know, keep stealing them and I won’t have anything left to wear.”
She grins mischievously and trails her hands up his bare chest to drape around his neck. “All part of my master plan.”
“Is that so?” He pulls her closer.
“Uh-huh,” she says—rolling up on her toes to be closer to his height.
He gasps when he feels her lips on his throat and his grip tightens on her hips. He can feel her smirk. She continues pressing heated kisses along his neck and jawline. His pulse hammers and blood rushes south. She finally gets to his ear and whispers, “Fuck me, Colonel.”
And he snaps.
He hoists her up onto the counter and drags her to the edge. “Yes, ma'am,” he growls, before crashing his lips into hers.
The coffee ends up getting cold.
———
Rick smiles and takes another sip of his beer as he watches Harley having the time of her life on the dancefloor. She’s on her third margarita and has already informed four other patrons that she’s “got a PhD, motherfucker!”
He’s content to sit back and enjoy the view. And he can’t help but think the view he has right now is nothing short of amazing.
Harley’s wearing a pink crop top and those denim shorts she’d hand painted stripes on—leaving her whole back and long legs exposed.
She takes a break from dancing to come say hi to him. “Hiya baby!”
He chuckles. “How drunk are you?”
She huffs. “I’m pleasantly tipsy, if you must know.”
He can tell she’s a little past pleasantly tipsy, but not sloppy drunk.
She grabs the hoodie he’d discarded earlier and throws it around her shoulders before climbing into his lap. His hands go to the bare skin of her lower back automatically and he bites back a groan. He’ll be honest, this is the last place he wants to be right now, with her looking like that.
“Havin’ fun?” she asks.
“Harls, I’m this close to dragging you to the back alley,” he rasps in her ear, before pressing a sneaky kiss to her neck.
“Home?” she gasps.
“Home,” he agrees, before practically dragging her out the door.
His lips are on her the second they get home. She kisses back enthusiastically—jumping up and wrapping her long legs around his waist. His hands go to her ass.
He presses her back against the nearest wall as his kisses move downward.
They don’t even make it to the bedroom.
——
Harley finishes applying her bright red lipstick and then takes a step back to look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She’s wearing a red satin A-line dress with a plunging neckline and open back. She looks hot. It’s the kind of dress that’s gonna have Rick drooling over her all fucking night. Curled hair and black heels complete the look.
She walks out to the living room to see one of the sexiest things she’s ever seen. Rick Flag. In a suit.
He looks uncomfortable as he fiddles with his shirt cuffs and the tie around his neck and his hair is still damp from the shower he just took. Her type may be “covered in blood” but god damn does he clean up nicely.
He looks up to see her and she smirks as she watches his gaze trail from her face downward. His eyes linger somewhere around her cleavage.
“What do ya think?” she asks, knowing full well what he’s thinking.
He comes close and snakes his arms around her waist—hands resting on her exposed lower back. He leans down and whispers in her ear, “I’m half tempted to just forget about dinner and find out how good this dress looks on the floor.”
She bites her lip and suppresses a moan. She reaches up and loosens the tie around his neck and pulls him down to her height so she can whisper back, “And if I’d known how well ya clean up I would’ve insisted on a fancy dinner months ago.”
Truthfully, all she can think about is getting him out of that suit. She’s not one to turn down a fancy dinner though. They’re celebrating her birthday after all.
She unbuttons the top three buttons of his shirt and snakes her hand inside to caress his chest. He inhales sharply at her touch. She moves the fabric aside to gain access to the skin of his neck—where she drops a lingering kiss. His hands tighten around her back. When she pulls back she sees that she’s left behind a lipstick print and she smirks. A little gift for him to discover later when he takes his tie off.
Dinner ends up being more amazing than she could ever imagine. She’s never been taken out to a fancy dinner before for any occasion, let alone her birthday. It makes her feel special, and she can’t say she’s felt like that very often in her life.
Really, the only thing hindering the date is the fact that both of them are so horny they can’t wait to leave. She has to refrain from dragging him to the restroom no less than four times while they’re waiting for their food.
The drive home is agony. Rick has his hand on her thigh the whole time and the closer they get to home, the higher his hand inches up her dress. He’s so close yet so far from where she needs him the most. She lets out a soft moan when he strokes her through her panties. It quickly turns into a whine when he withdraws his hand as quickly as it appeared. She glances at him and can see him smirking. Smug bastard.
She grabs his tie and pulls him into a sloppy kiss the second they’re through the door of their apartment. Without breaking the kiss or releasing her grip on his tie, she leads him to the bedroom.
They both agree the red dress looks much better on the floor.
————–
Rick is busy in the produce section of the grocery store when his phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket and sees it’s a text from Harley. He opens it, expecting a meme that makes absolutely no sense to him, but the image he’s confronted with is better—muchbetter—than that.
It’s a picture of Harley, lying on her back with her head at the foot of the bed, hair cascading over the side. Her legs are bent in front of her and raised slightly and one hand is in her hair. She’s staring directly at the camera. She’s wearing a red corset with black polka dots that makes her chest look amazing and black boyshorts. Curled hair, red heels, and her favorite shade of red lipstick complete the picture.
He looks closer and realizes that, yes, she’s clutching his dog tags in her other hand. He curses under his breath and seriously contemplates just abandoning the cart and rushing home instead. Unfortunately, they desperately need groceries.
He gets another picture as he’s standing in line at the checkout.
She’s lying on her stomach this time, propped up on her elbows. Her legs are crossed behind her and she has his dog tags twined between her fingers. She’s blowing the camera a kiss with her other hand, and winking.
He suppresses a groan and wills the line to move faster. Instead, it seems to take forever.
The third picture comes when he’s putting the groceries in the trunk.
She’s on her knees this time—back arched and hands in her hair.
He goes twenty over the speed limit on the way home.
The groceries get abandoned by the front door and he stalks towards the bedroom. Harley is lounging on the bed, scrolling through her phone, but immediately tosses it aside when she hears him come in.
She shoots him a wicked grin. “Did ya get the pictures?”
He drops to his knees. “Oh I got them.”
He grabs her by the ankles and drags her to the edge of the bed, tossing her legs over his shoulders.
“What did ya think?” she asks breathlessly.
He trails kisses up the inside of her thigh. “I think it’s time for some payback.”
He peels her panties down her legs and trails his kisses higher—purposely avoiding the area she wants him the most. She’s practically shaking in anticipation by the time his lips touch her wet heat.
The ice cream is half melted by the time he’s done with her.
When he takes ya to Build-A-Bear, ya know he’s a keeper
Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!! It’s here! Okay so @oh-great-authoress requested some good old fashion tooth rotting quinnflag fluff and tooth rotting quinnflag fluff she shall have! This is seriously the most wholesome thing I’ve ever written and I’m very proud of it. Hope y’all enjoy!
Harley wakes up to the smell of bacon and coffee—it smells wonderful. She sits up, stretches, and gets ready to roll out of bed to go to the kitchen when the door opens. Rick comes in carrying a tray piled high with breakfast food.
She suddenly feels sick to her stomach.
See, Harley’s not used to getting gifts or having nice things done for her. At least not gifts that don’t come with a heavy price attached to them.
“What’s with that face, Harls?” Rick asks as he sets the tray over her lap and climbs into bed next to her.
She tries to school her features into something resembling less of a grimace. “You’re not gonna ask me to kill anyone, are ya?”
His brow furrows in confusion. “Why would I? We’re not in the squad anymore.”
She blushes. It was a stupid question. She knows Rick would never hurt her or make her do anything she didn’t want to do.
He nudges her side and says, “Talk to me, Harls. What is it?”
She plays with the edge of the blanket. “Mistah J would always do nice things for me before asking me to do his dirty work.”
He made her feel lovedandcared for—before handing her a gun and asking her to kill. She always did it without question. Until he asked her to kill her very best friend in the whole world—Poison Ivy.
She’d refused—and was thrown out a window as punishment.
An arm wrapping around her shoulders brings her out of her flashback. Rick kisses the top of her head and says, “I promise, I just wanted to do something nice for you after that nightmare you had last night.”
She leans against him and blinks back tears. What had she done to deserve this man? She couldn’t be more in love with him if she tried.
She swipes furiously at her face as the tears fall. God dammit! Why does she keep crying in front of him?
Rick’s used to her random tears at this point and just moves the tray out of the way so he can pull her gently to sit between his legs. He replaces the tray over her lap and wraps his arms around her—lips going to her bare shoulder where the collar of her too big t-shirt (really, one of his t-shirts that she’d stolen) had slipped down. He presses a soft kiss there and she melts.
“I love you. So much,” she says through the tears.
“I love you too, Harls. And I promise, I will never do anything to hurt you.”
She’s slowly starting to believe that.
———————————
Harley thinks that’s the end of the Nice Things—a one off thing that Rick did to make her feel better. But then they keep happening.
It starts with blueberry muffins and coffee just the way she likes it every Wednesday when he gets home from the gym.
“Why’d ya do this for me?” she warily asks the first time, before taking a sip of coffee. Oh that tastes delicious.
He shrugs. “I know you probably didn’t eat breakfast. I don’t know, I just wanted to do something nice for you.”
It becomes a nice weekly ritual that she looks forward to.
Then it’s the biggest bouquet of roses she’s ever seen and some chocolates on Valentine’s Day. She gets teary eyed when she sees them—no one’s ever gotten her flowers before. Not ones that don’t squirt acid anyway.
“I know it’s super cheesy and cliché,” he says apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck.
She takes the flowers from him and sets them on the couch. And then tackles him with a kiss.
After that it’s little tchotchkes he finds when they’re out and about that remind him of her.
“They didn’t have any beavers,” he explains, once he emerges from the antique store the two of them had been exploring. “But they did have this!”
He produces a taxidermied otter from behind his back. And it’s wearing tiny overalls! And a straw hat! She snatches it out of his hands and hugs it tightly. It’s not a Bernie the beaver but it’s just as good.
The otter, which she names Betty (after her other childhood crush), earns a place of honor on their TV stand.
Right now, he’s dragging her through the Gotham mall. He refuses to tell her where they’re going—claiming it’s a surprise. Finally, they reach their destination. Harley gasps and throws her arms around Rick’s neck. She’s nevergotten to go to Build-A-Bear!
“You’re welcome, Harls,” he says—kissing the top of her head.
He lets her run wild through the store as she chooses between all the different animals. After much deliberation, she chooses a classic brown bear.
They get as far as the picking clothing stage before Rick is shooing her out of the store. She pouts and all he does in response is kiss her nose and tell her it’s a surprise.
She grumbles but does as he says—practically vibrating in anticipation. After what feels like hours (but is probably only about ten minutes) Rick emerges from the store, holding something behind his back.
“Close your eyes,” he demands
She huffs but complies—holding out her hands. Something soft and furry is placed in her grasp and then Rick’s telling her to open her eyes.
In her hands is the brown bear she’d picked out. Only now it’s wearing a camo military uniform. Her very own soldier bear.
“This,” Rick says, “is for you to hug if you ever have a panic attack and I’m not there to help you.”
She hugs the bear to her chest and blinks back tears. Her very own soldier bear to hold if her soldier isn’t with her.
She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down to her height so she can press her forehead to his. “Have I told ya lately that I love you?” she asks with a shy smile.
“Uh, this morning?” he replies, before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You ready to go home?”
She still can’t believe she even has a home with this amazing man she absolutely adores.
“Home sounds amazing right now.”
———————–
Rick spends the subway ride home with one hand on Harley’s thigh and the other holding his phone—scrolling through it and frowning. He’s been doing that a lot lately, she’s noticed. She hasn’t asked him about it yet—a little afraid to hear the answer.
Once they get home, she heads towards the bedroom to find her new bear a place of honor on their bed and Rick goes to the couch. He’s still scrolling and scowling when she returns.
“Wow, I haven’t seen ya this scowl-y since I forgot your sandwich at Sal’s,” she half jokes (in her defense she had been veryhungover).
He doesn’t answer, which worries her. So she pushes the hand holding his phone away and climbs onto his lap. He sets his phone down and wraps his arms around her to pull her closer. She toys with the collar of his t-shirt and asks shyly, “It’s not somethin’ I did, is it?”
“It has nothing to do with you, Harls,” he assures her, with a soft kiss. He sighs and continues, “I’ve been following the news coverage about Corto Maltese and Starro.”
Oh. That explains a lot. She knows now that the things he’d discovered in Jotunheim had shaken his entire worldview.
“I’m just so fucking angry at the US government,” he admits. “And no one can ever know about the fucked up shit they did there because that drive is the only thing keeping you out of prison and me from joining you.”
She doesn’t really know how to respond to that so instead she says, “Would it make ya feel better if I told ya I named my bear after you?”
He smiles at her. “You named your bear Rick?”
“I’m not that unoriginal! Nah, I named him Flaggy, duh,” she says, as if it should be obvious.
He chuckles but then his smile falls and she knows he’s back to thinking about Jotunheim.
“Well, I guess I’ll let ya get back to your brooding,” she says as she gets off his lap. She’s suddenly had the most brilliant idea (and she’s not drunk so she knows it’s a sound idea).
She’s gonna make Rick some cookies.
She gets to work pulling out all the ingredients she thinks she’ll need (cookies have eggs in them, right?) and preheats the oven (400 degrees should be fine).
She doesn’t follow a recipe and she could’ve sworn she set a timer for the oven and she hadn’t meant to get sucked in by cute cat videos but all of a sudden the fire alarm’s going off.
She quickly shuts off the oven and pulls the tray out. The dough has coagulated into one giant mass and it’s burnt beyond recognition.
Rick runs into the kitchen and breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees that nothing is on fire. He reaches up to shut off the alarm and then takes a look at the “cookies”.
He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Harls, what the fuck happened?”
She gives him a sheepish look. “Uh, I tried makin’ cookies to cheer ya up?”
He quirks an eyebrow at her and she says, “Look, would it help if I told ya the cat videos were reallycute?”
He doesn’t say anything as he goes over to the fridge and rummages around for a second. When he emerges, he’s holding a tube of premade cookie dough.
“When the fuck did we get that?”
He chuckles as he gets out a knife to cut the package open and another cookie sheet. “You picked it out last time we went grocery shopping.”
She grumbles and flings flour at him that lands in his hair. It’s not her fault her memory is shit.
She hoists herself onto the counter after grabbing a can of whipped cream from the fridge. Rick proceeds to roll out the dough into individual cookies and place them on the not ruined baking sheet. Harley “helps” by flinging spilled flour at him and eating whipped cream straight out of the can.
Once the cookies are in the oven he comes up to her and stands between her legs. “You uh, got something on your nose,” he comments.
She goes to wipe it away but he stops her, cupping her face gently and kissing away the whipped cream before kissing her lips softly.
For once, the kiss doesn’t lead anywhere. It’s just a soft simple kiss. Harley’s still not used to casual kisses. She’d always been expected to perform in all her previous relationships—with the Joker especially.
She wraps her arms and legs around him and clings to him tightly. He hugs her back and rests his chin on top of her head.
She’s overwhelmed with the feeling of just how much she loves this man. She feels so loved and cared for and safe with him and she never wants him to let her go.
Three cracked ribs, bruised knuckles, and almost getting arrested for attempted murder? All worth it
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! Okay, here we have it! Another @foxlace prompt request! Prompt was shirtless cuddles and uh, this one is the spicest thing I’ve ever written. Nothing but spice past the read more so keep that in mind. BIG shout-out to @skyromaniac-05 for helping me write some of this because I’m so fucking ace and can’t describe shit
Rick’s cracked ribs scream in protest and his nose is throbbing and gushing blood, but he ignores all of that and throws another punch. The bastard underneath him won’t stop laughing maniacally and he’s determined to make it stop—permanently.
Joker’s face is a bloodied mess at this point—broken nose gushing blood, two missing teeth, two black eyes, and a split lip. And at least two cracked ribs on top of that. It’s not enough though. Rick needs him dead.
This fucking bastard had been stalking Harley for the last month and Rick will never forget how scared and paranoid she’s been lately. She’d been doing so much better until this fucking asshole had to ruin it. And then he had the nerve to show up here, at her favorite bar.
What he hadn’t counted on was Rick being so pissed off at his mere presence and just drunk enough to not give a flying fuck about any consequences.
“You and I,” he’d said, grabbing the other man by the collar as he tried cornering Harley by the bathroom, “need to have a little talk.”
He’d taken Joker to the back alley and thrown the first punch.
It hadn’t been a fair fight from the beginning. Joker fought dirty and had quickly managed to crack a couple of Rick’s ribs with a pair of brass knuckles and slash him with a knife. But Rick had quickly gained the upper hand. Right now he has the bastard’s arms pinned beneath his knees so he can’t stab or punch him again. He wraps his hands around the other man’s neck and squeezes, quickly cutting off that god awful laughter.
Suddenly, he’s being ripped away. He struggles against the grip the other person has on him. “Harley,” he says, in a warning tone.
“Not Harley,” the other person growls. “Trust me, you don’t wanna go down that path.”
“Oh trust me, I absolutely do,” Rick replies—realizing he’s talking to Batman. He spits blood on the ground.
“Think about how Harley will feel if you get sent to prison,” Batman reasons.
That makes him pause. Frankly, he’s willing to risk it if it means the bastard’s gone for good, but he knows it wouldn’t be fair to Harley. The other man lets go of him and goes towards the broken form of the Joker on the ground.
He hears footsteps thundering towards him and turns around. He braces for impact and groans as Harley barrels right into his chest. His ribs scream in protest but he hugs her tight anyway. She pulls back and grabs his face—checking him over for injuries—and starts asking a million questions as she checks to see if he has a concussion. He wipes the blood from his lip and patiently answers every question and performs every action she demands of him. Once she’s satisfied that he doesn’t have brain damage she pulls him towards her and hugs him—gently this time.
“I’m okay, Harls. I promise. Let’s go home.”
———————-
Harley goes into Doctor Mode the second they get home, ordering him to sit on the couch and getting out her medical supplies. It’s impressive, really, considering she’s so horny she can barely think straight.
She hadn’t been prepared to find out just how fucking hot it was to see her boyfriend beating her ex within an inch of his life. Look, it’s not her fault her type is “covered in blood”.
She has to take a moment to collect her (very dirty) thoughts once he takes his shirt off so she can assess his ribs. She has to really concentrate so she doesn’t get distracted by those gorgeous tattoos he has on his upper arms as she’s bandaging his knuckles. Those tattoos she’s been obsessed with since finding out he even hadthem. How dare he hide them—and those amazing abs (and those biceps)—from her for the entirety of their early relationship. That was sorude!
She manages to hide how turned on she is as she cleans up his nose—not broken, luckily. He hisses through his teeth as she tightens the bandage around his ribs just a tad too tight.
“That’s what ya get for scaring me so bad.” And for being so god damn attractive right now. Rude.
He chuckles softly and wraps an arm around her. “Sorry for scaring you, but I’m not sorry I did it.”
She shoves him away—lightly—and protests, “God dammit, I’m trying to be mad at you! Why ya gotta be so fuckin’ perfect all the time?”
He laughs again and then winces. She urges him to lie down on the couch and straddles him so she can get at his head wound without him having to move so much. Oh. Bad idea. Really bad idea.
She bites her lip and tries to concentrate on cleaning the blood off his forehead instead of the feeling of him underneath her. She feels flushed all over and needs to do something to relieve the ache between her legs.
Before she knows it, she’s grinding against him. Fuck! It feels so good. She can feel him hardening against her and she can’t help it. She lets out a soft moan and moves her hips with more purpose, hand going to his chest to steady herself. She comes back to herself when she hears him hiss through his teeth, and stops.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” she apologizes, feeling terrible. This is not the time to be thinking about sex.
“No no, keep going,” he urges.
“What about your ribs?” she asks.
He smirks—that smirk that always makes her knees weak—and trails his fingers from the hem of her crop top down her stomach to toy with the waistband of her shorts. “Well I guess we’ll just have to be careful then.”
His hand slips into her shorts and past her underwear. She tips her head back and gasps when she feels his fingers against her clit. She lets out a soft moan as he slips two fingers inside her and grinds against the heel of his hand. Fuck! It feels sogood.
“That’s it, Harls. Keep going,” Rick encourages. His husky voice stirs something deep in her belly.
He lets her do all the work and she’s so wound up that it’s not long before she’s coming with a scream. He works her through her orgasm and she almost collapses onto his chest. She remembers his ribs at the last second and instead steadies herself with her hands on his lower abdomen.
———————–
Before she can even catch her breath, he’s ordering her to strip—pupils blown as he catches that familiar mischief in her eyes as she climbs off of him.
The first thing to go is her shirt. She lifts it over her head slowly—maintaining eye contact the whole time. And fuck! She’s not wearing a bra. She tosses the shirt somewhere behind her and his eyes drift to her newly revealed skin—the defined curves of her lean muscles trapping his gaze in a way that has him unbearably hard.
Next to go are her shorts. Her hands run down her front to the waistband and she toys with it for a second—as if debating whether she should take the garment off. Before he can tell her to hurry the fuck up, she’s pulling the shorts down, along with her underwear. He swallows hard as he takes in the sight of her long legs—heart pounding and blood rushing south.
She runs her fingertips down his chest and toys with the zipper on his jeans. The mischievous smirk on her face and the desire in her eyes makes him strain against his pants even more. He wants her. Now.
Just before he feels like he’s about to go insane, she finally removes his pants—his erection slipping free and finally providing some relief. She moves to straddle him and he groans. He can feel her wet heat against his cock.
She grinds against him and he grabs her hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Harls,” he warns. “I swear to god if I’m not inside you in the next fifteen seconds—”
He cuts himself off with a moan as she finally sinks down onto his erection.
She doesn’t move for several seconds and he has to resist the urge to thrust his hips up. Just when he thinks he’s about to go insane, she moves—bracing herself against his abdomen. The pace she sets is slow at first but quickly picks up.
“Play with your clit, sweetheart,” he orders.
She whines and then complies—fingers starting at her neck and moving downward slowly, in between her breasts, and then finally to the apex of her thighs. She gasps once she reaches the bundle of nerves and rubs furiously. Before he knows it, she’s falling apart on top of him. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
She collapses onto his chest, hands going to his shoulders to avoid his ribs, breathing hard. She squeaks as he quickly reverses their positions and it turns into a moan as he increases the pace and power of his thrusts. His whole body is screaming at him.
“What about your ribs?” she manages to ask as he fucks her, hard and fast.
“Don’t give a shit,” he pants, before crashing his lips into hers.
He tilts her hips up, to change the angle of his thrusts and she shatters—screaming his name as she comes a third time. He follows soon after.
He rolls to the side so he doesn’t crush her and collapses onto his back. He feels like he’s been hit by a truck but he doesn’t give two shits. Harley squeezes herself between his body and the back of the couch and snuggles against him. He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his side. Slowly, their breathing returns to normal.
“I still can’t believe ya did that for me,” she says, tracing the edge of the bandage wrapped around his torso.
He smiles. He doesn’t regret what he did for a second. “You’re worth almost getting arrested for attempted murder, Harls.”
“It was really fuckin’ hot,” she says next.
“Really? I had no idea,” he deadpans.
She laughs and smacks him lightly. He smiles and leans down to kiss the top of her head. She gets serious again. “Ya want anything for the pain?”
Truthfully, his whole body hurts like a bitch but he’s already half asleep and doesn’t answer. The last thing he registers before sleep claims him is a blanket being draped over him and Harley kissing his cheek and saying, “Sweet dreams, Rick.”
Anonymous Asked: no thoughts just rick flag and the reader grinding on each other at the club in the middle of the dance floor (this kind of counts as a request take your time though babe no rush at all)
Anonymous Asked: Okay but what about a sequel to the supply closet fic where the two have to actually talk about what is going on between them? Characters: Rick Flag, Harley Quinn, Blackguard, Boomerang, Mentions of Amanda Waller, Catwoman, and major Harley Quinn!Friendship because always. Rating:M+ Word Count:5k Warning(s): Language, violence, kissing, grinding, groping.
A/N: More angsty than smutty, but still inspired by a Spotify playlist titled ‘pov: you horny 24/7’. Unofficial sequel to my fics Storeroom TalkandEdging Toward Something (Rick Flag x reader). Slight jealous!Rick Flag. Happy ending!
You’re getting the hang of the squad, but being around Rick feels like it might be getting too complicated. Harley suspects something going on between the two of you; She takes it upon herself to intervene— For both her friends’ sakes. Your next mission seems like the perfect time for it. Set before The Suicide Squad (2021).
A/N: So yeah. I have a long, in depth fic for these two that’s chock full of secrets and fluff and Actual Backstory but for some reason all I can write is smut. This is part two to Escapades and takes place just after the police van rolled down that hill. Also, can someone let me know if that link I tried doesn’t work? I’m still new to writing on this blue hellsite
Word Count:1734
Pairing: Rick Flag x Female Reader [Codename Nyx, after the Greek Goddess]
Warnings: Still not really any plot, sorry guys. The plot for this is hidden elsewhere. Vaginal fingering. Semi-public sex. Dirty talk. Rick still won’t shut up but he really should, though, people are trying to sleep. Uh, nothing makes sense, really? Movie innacuracies due to the fact this is now a bigger vehicle than the hippie van they were cruising around in, but the same concept still applies.
Summary: The doctor couldn’t find any record of an emergency contact, but Rick was lucid enough to call for you.
Rating: Honestly? It’s mostly fluff.
A/N: I am not a medical professional, so please please suspend your disbelief with some of the things written here. This is also my first attempt at a DCEU fic. Hoping you’d be kind!
Word Count: 3.9k
You used to actually enjoy being in a hospital. It once fascinated you to no end, trying to take in and learn as much as you can.
Now, however, you understood why so many others abhorred being in such a place. You realized that it was the waiting that turned everything into hell on earth. It hadn’t even been that long, perhaps an hour tops; but every minute seemed to have stretched tenfold. One thing you were grateful for, however, was that you weren’t waiting alone.
SUMMARY: Rick has a bad habit of falling for his assignments, even if he doesn’t like to admit it. It’s something that you take far too much joy in teasing him about - to test how far you can push - until the day that he finally snaps.
Pairing:Rick Flag x F!Reader Wordcount:1.5K Warnings: Oral sex. Self-destructo reader. Rick being a lovesick fool. Waller sux. Summary:Rick Flag offers to wake you up in the best way. A/N: Ayooo i’m going into the reader’s powers in another fic, but shit required more time. This is just a smutty little drabble.
Sometimes he thinks that he burns in all the ways you don’t.
You’re cool and detached at times. Self-destructive at others. You get the way scarred girls get: tone-deaf with a taste for violence. Your big eyes like straw nests and all the birds have flown the coop - bye-bye Ricky - see yah at the next mission.
He replies as he always does. “Yes, ma’am.”
He bows his head while you try and smother the slight quirk of your mouth. It’s an uncontrolled movement on your part - a quick flash of desire that snaps across your solemn face before you shove it down somewhere bleak.
He flares up like a lit gasoline river and thinks that he’d call you ma’am ma’am ma’am for the rest of his damn life if it meant you’d look at him like that again.
Can we talk about how important such a small gesture as patting him on the head was to Abner? Perhaps it was the first time he had been touched without disgust or to hurt
-summary; Rick doesn’t know why he’s drawn to you, perhaps because of the cloud of secrecy that surrounds you. He just wants to know who you are. -warnings; angst, death mention. -a/n;The Quiet American, Graham Greene.
The snow fell fast and heavy. It was freezing in the little trailer. Rick couldn’t get the heating to work. You shook and shivered in your corner, quietly. You hadn’t said a word since Rick opened the door for you. Now you were trapped. The snow was piling up. It was enveloping the trailer. You were sure this was the end. You’d die here, frozen and silent and practically alone. Rick gasped happily from the other side of the trailer. Your train of thought ended and you looked over. He was holding his hands over a hissing radiator, sighing with relief.
“C'mere,” he grunted.
You wandered over. The radiator was warming up. You pressed your back against the wall and slid down it. The heat was slowly seeping into your bones. You smiled. Rick watched. That was the first time he’d seen you smile since you left. He mimicked your position. He rubbed his cold hands together and hissed. He watched you out of the side of his eye. You didn’t move, your gaze was empty. You had zoned out again. Rick wanted to know what you were thinking about.
Rick had been on countless missions with you. You had been with him since the beginning. You came on every mission with him, always close by his side. You and Rick were the only ones who persevered. You were the only ones who survived. You were the only permanence in each other’s lives. Yet Rick knew nothing about you. He knew your name, he knew that you were one hell of a marksman, but that was it. He longed to know about you. He wanted to know everything about it. It was almost obsessive, unhealthy. Rick longed for you.
“We’ll get out of this,” Rick said suddenly, making you jump. “We always do, don’t we?”
You nodded.
“Waller better give us one hell of a break after this. I need a holiday.”
“Where would you go?”
Rick liked the rare sound of your voice.
“Dunno. Somewhere hot,” he joked.
You chuckled softly. The cold was still seeping into the trailer, but the radiator was hot against your back. You shuffled closer to Rick, just a few inches. He noticed though, and reached out for your hand. His finger tips grazed yours, and then you both stilled.
“The name on your jacket isn’t yours,” Rick said.
There was an army jacked flung over your shoulders. There was a Colonels’ badge under the name. A last name Rick didn’t recognise.
“My dads.”
You didn’t say anything else. You and Rick sat in silence. Eventually, you fell asleep. You slumped against Rick. He coiled an arm around your waist, holding you close and trying to keep you warm. When you woke up, Rick tried tirelessly to get you to talk. You could tell that fear was beginning to set in. He was worried. He didn’t want to die with a total stranger. Sure, Rick was your best friend, but you knew nothing about each other.
“Poker,” he said suddenly.
“What?”
“Let’s play a game of poker,” he said, pulling some old cards off of a shelf behind him.
“I’m no good at poker, Flag.”
“Neither am I,” Rick lied.
You watched as Rick dealt you both two cards, face down, then another three in the middle of you both. Texas Hold'em Poker, Rick’s favourite.
“What are we betting?”
“Information,” Rick grinned. “I win, I get to ask you a question and you have to answer. And vice versa.”
You nodded. Rick won every round. After a few hours, he knew your birthday, all about your parents, and about your little sister back home. He knew all about your childhood, about the constant moving around. He knew about the almost engagement you had in your early twenties. He knew about the tattoo on your hip, about your fear of spiders. He had one thing he wanted to know, still.
“I fold,” you said dejectedly.
Rick grinned. He laid his cards on the floor. He would have won anyway. He stared at you, you couldn’t look away. You took a deep, shuddering breath while you waited for Rick’s last question.
“What’s something you long for?”
“What?”
You didn’t expect it. It caught you off guard. You never wanted things. You didn’t long for things. You couldn’t. Not in this line of work. Rick repeated the question slowly, and offered a half-assed, although genuine, explanation. You had to think. You pursed your lips and furrowed your brow. You had to think for a long while before settling on something.
“From childhood I had never believed in permanence, and yet I had longed for it.”
Rick looked at you. Your voice was quiet and on the verge of breaking. He knew where you were coming from. he understood the fear and honesty that coloured your words.
“And I guess I still do. I believed, when I first started this job that maybe I had found permanence. I don’t anymore.”
“Sweetheart-”
“Death is the only absolute value in this world,” you cut him off. “Lose life and you would never lose nothing again forever.”
Your stare was blank. You were expressionless. Your words were flat and emotionless and it was unnerving. Rick hated it. He hated this feeling of nothingness. He didn’t know if you were sad or angry and it was killing him. So many years, you had been his friend. You always knew what he was thinking. You always had a plan. You always followed his orders. And Rick always knew what to say. Now he was speechless.
“Anyway,” you said very suddenly, a false joy in your voice. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?”
You picked up the cards and stood up. You didn’t wait for Rick. You busied yourself with tidying. You cleaned until there was enough space on the floor next to the radiator for both of you. Rick stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as you lay down. You patted the floor behind you; an order. Rick obeyed and curled around you. You pulled the pile of moth-eaten blankets, sheets and jackets over you.
“Honey,” Rick began, a hand reaching out for your hip.
“Go to sleep.”
“Please, just- Look at me,” his touch was soft, experimental.
“Go to sleep, Rick.”
He tried being soft. You were being blunt. You weren’t having it. Rick wasn’t playing games. At the end of the day, he was your superior officer. He always had been. And you always obeyed.
“Lieutenant,” he ordered. Your eyes shot wide open. “Turn around and look at me.”
You couldn’t start disobeying him now. You were probably going to die out here anyway. The snow was piling up against the trailer. The radiator was banging and hissing concerningly. Cold was nipping at the edges of the blankets. No one was going to find you out here, no one was coming for you. You turned around. It was awkward and you were squashed against Rick’s chest, but you refused to move back incase the cold got you.
“Yes, sir?” You recite monotonously.
Rick wanted to tell you that everything would be okay. He wanted to tell you he loved you. He wanted to say that you were his best friend. That he’d be here forever. That death isn’t the only thing that’s permanent. He wanted to tell you that he’d die for you. And that every day he doesn’t tell you he kills himself over and over. Living without you is hell on earth. He loves you. He’d kill his own team for you. he loves you. You and him are permanent. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.
But he can’t.
He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He shut his eyes and you watch, curious. He kissed you. You gasped against his lips, your whole body going stiff. Rick pulled away, mumbling an apology. You shook your head. You forced your hands away from your sides to pull him in by the neck. He was more than happy to kiss you again. Suddenly, the cold was indifferent to you. It was hot under the blankets, against Rick.
“We’re gonna die out here,” he pants.
“No, we’re not.”
“If we die, then. I don’t wanna die without tellin’ you that I love you.”
You shook your head, again. Before Rick continued, you were tugging on his shirt, forcing his lips back to yours. You slipped your hands under the hem of his shirt, sliding up his waist. He was panting and whimpering into the kiss as you maneuvered yourself to sit in his lap. You gripped the shirt and pulled it clean off of Rick. You heard a bang. Both of you froze. The trailer rocked. You lurched out of Rick’s lap, hitting your head during the fall. Neither of you made a sound, not even when you watched a set of sharp teeth sink into the metal of the trailer.
You reached for your gun. The door was ripped out. You sighed in relief, dropping the gun and running to your saviours. Rick stayed back, adjusting his pants while you leapt into Bloodsport’s arms.
“I’ve never been happier to see you, DuBois,” you muttered into his neck.
He nodded to a shirtless Rick. You watched as Nanaue chewed on what was left of the trailer’s door.
Not another word was ever spoken of that night. You and Rick went on as normal. And every time he saw you shoot a wink as DuBois, or smile at him, or hug him. Every time that you looked at anyone who wasn’t him, his heart broke a little. Every day, he killed himself over and over for you.
okay girlie pops. I’ve got five fics ready to be written/released over the next week and a half/two weeks. one for everyone, the murdock whores, the castle whores, the maximoff whores, even the rick flag whores. all 4 u. coming to ur tumblr soonish.
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.”
Ughhh, I can’t wait to get to see Godlock in action
NGL though… he gives me MAJOR Rick vibes
Post Corto Maltese, Rick lost all faith in the government so know he takes the law into his own hands as a mercenary. And looks hot as fuck while doing it too
This is EXACTLY how I envisioned him if he ever was to come back after Corto Maltese. Free from the government, becoming a mercenary, which was something he used be against when he joined ARGUS. But now he’s free and no longer the government and Waller’s puppet, he’s out there making his own decisions and doing what he feels is right. Fuck anyone else who thinks otherwise.
We love a good bit of character development.
I’m definitely beginning to stir a plot in my brain. Thinking “I never told you what I do for a living” as the inspo… mercenary rick would be phenomenal
Warnings: maybe a couple of bits of language here and there, some light drinking, pregnancy
==========
The chair Rick sits in creaks against the floorboards as a soft breeze blows across his face. The glass of whiskey in his hand slightly drips with condensation against the porch. He finally did it. After years of his life dedicated to serving his country, he finally managed to escape the government and escape Amanda Waller. He finally managed to escape his soldier life and build a home with you.
And it feels damn good.
His blonde hair, now sparse with bits of grey, moves with him as he turns his head and faces you, two plates of food balancing in your hands. Rick quickly takes one out of your hand before you take a seat next to him and let out a sigh of content. A comfortable silence falls between the two of you as the food in your laps cools down slightly. Rick’s eyes gaze over the land in front of him, wheat in the near distance glowing a bright gold from the setting sun and the grass that covers the hills now a topaz shade instead of its normal green hue. Overall, it’s peaceful on the farm and Rick would not have it any other way.
“It’s pretty nice, this thing we’ve got going on,” he breaks the silence, grabbing his fork and pushing around the food before taking a mouthful and savoring the taste of your home made meals. “I think I could live forever here.”
You let out a chuckle, rubbing your belly as you look out in the distance. You wanted to build your house away from the city. Away from people. Away from the life you both left behind. “I sure hope so, hon. I don’t think I want to build another house. Not for a while.”
Rick leans over and places a hand on your enlarged stomach and mindlessly rubs the clothed covered skin. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d want to move either. I wanna raise our kids here.” He presses a kiss against the bump before returning to his food. “I also don’t wanna go back to prepackaged food.”
“Don’t worry, Rick. You won’t have to. We’ll stay here, forever.”
Warnings: maybe a couple of bits of language here and there, some light drinking, pregnancy
==========
The chair Rick sits in creaks against the floorboards as a soft breeze blows across his face. The glass of whiskey in his hand slightly drips with condensation against the porch. He finally did it. After years of his life dedicated to serving his country, he finally managed to escape the government and escape Amanda Waller. He finally managed to escape his soldier life and build a home with you.
And it feels damn good.
His blonde hair, now sparse with bits of grey, moves with him as he turns his head and faces you, two plates of food balancing in your hands. Rick quickly takes one out of your hand before you take a seat next to him and let out a sigh of content. A comfortable silence falls between the two of you as the food in your laps cools down slightly. Rick’s eyes gaze over the land in front of him, wheat in the near distance glowing a bright gold from the setting sun and the grass that covers the hills now a topaz shade instead of its normal green hue. Overall, it’s peaceful on the farm and Rick would not have it any other way.
“It’s pretty nice, this thing we’ve got going on,” he breaks the silence, grabbing his fork and pushing around the food before taking a mouthful and savoring the taste of your home made meals. “I think I could live forever here.”
You let out a chuckle, rubbing your belly as you look out in the distance. You wanted to build your house away from the city. Away from people. Away from the life you both left behind. “I sure hope so, hon. I don’t think I want to build another house. Not for a while.”
Rick leans over and places a hand on your enlarged stomach and mindlessly rubs the clothed covered skin. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d want to move either. I wanna raise our kids here.” He presses a kiss against the bump before returning to his food. “I also don’t wanna go back to prepackaged food.”
“Don’t worry, Rick. You won’t have to. We’ll stay here, forever.”
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.
Saw somebody do something similar to this on tiktok (if you find their @ lemme know so I can tag them), anyways, little entrepreneur me wants to make actual eyeshadow palettes based on characters.
So far I’ve done:
Rick Flag
Takeshi Kovacs
Stephen Holder
Erik Heller
Adrian Chase (Vigilante)
Spider-Man (Garfield)
So if there’s any characters you’d like to see please let me know (I’m *dying* of Covid so I have all the time in the world).
Also please let me know if anyone would be interested in purchasing a palette if I were to make them!!!
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.
You dove behind the wall as four shots slammed into the spot you had been standing seconds before. Panting heavily, you try to assess the situation. You knew this had been a long shot, but things had not gone at all as you had hoped. You had run point on close to fifty or so Task Force X missions, but before this morning, you never imagined you would be leading the Suicide Squad into battle against your fellow ARGUS members. Yet after what Waller had said in the last meeting, you had no choice. You were doing what you had to in order to protect the squad. If she wanted a war, you were going to give her one.
However, most of your team already lay scattered on the ground around you, and while you had managed to take out quite a few of your opponents, your side was losing fighters at a much quicker rate. Killer Croc had been the first one to fall. Your assault had barely started when you heard him snarl as he was hit by at least three different people. Boomer was next. While deadly with his boomerangs, he had never really gotten the hang of guns. So, he just charged out into the middle of the field and began wildly spraying shots at anything that moved. Though he did manage to take out two of Waller’s people, he was quickly mowed down. Deadshot soon followed him. You had tried to warn Floyd before the assault started that he would be one of their main targets since his skills with a gun were unmatched, but he got cocky. After taking out three opponents in quick succession, he had tried to advance and was taken out by five shots coming from four directions.
You darted out from your hiding spot and charged towards the next barrier you could take cover behind. On the way, you managed to take out Flo and Dale. It often surprised people to know that the members of ARGUS who worked in the office or control room were just as trained and skilled with weapons as the mission operatives. But it was part of the application requirements to join the team. Waller wanted to make sure every person around her could be useful in more ways than one. So, while you felt bad about shooting your coworkers and people you considered your friends, it was you or them. And you were damn well sure you weren’t going to let it be you.
Oh my God, I was on edge the entire fricking time processing how the heck am I going to recover from the entire squad dropping dead and then when Rick came up, i was gripping the edge of my seat, “not him too” there’s no way, this is just so cruel.. N then I just realised I got bamboozled the entire time .. Should’ve seen that coming.. Well thank God cuz I don’t think my heart could live with him dying again
Um… based on your last sentence, maybe check the tags before reading more of my Rick fics
I was afraid this might be too obvious of a twist when I wrote it, so I am so glad it worked! Sorry for the momentary distress, but I’m glad you enjoyed it!
That is amazing! Both the art and the turnaround time! I love everything about it!!!! And I was right, I’m definitely going to need a single of that Rick! (and probably all of them)
i found a small suicide squad one shot i wrote on the night after the second movie when i had a lot of emotions about the opposites create comfort relationship harley and flag share. its kinda nice actually
It’s that time again kids! Here we have seven thousand something words of Rick Flag smut that I stayed up until one in the morning to finish! :D The Suicide Squad glow up for my boy was really something else, and it ignited my love for him again.
Title: Ten Out of Ten
Rating: M or NSFW
Word Count:7647
Warnings: Smut, Praise Kink, Accidental Exhibitionism, Semi-Public Sex
Summary: Almost dying can have a funny effect on people and honestly, there’s nothing that makes you feel quite as alive again as fucking in the back of a minibus- three feet away from your sleeping friends.
-
Once dusk hit, the sun hanging low and threatening to dip under the horizon, the bus had fallen silent as it’s weary passengers finally succumbed to the exhaustion of the days events. While you had cleaned up your friends as best as you could, DuBois had commandeered another driver- after the unfortunate fate that befell your last one.
Not that the new guy needed to know anything aboutthat.
The stout, middle aged man now sat in the drivers seat, bobbing up and down with each pothole and cheerfully humming along with the radio as he did.
You had been surprised that he’d found someone so quickly, but according to Robert, there had been no shortage of offers when the citizens learned that you were in need of a ride. They had been so thankful to you all for saving them, that nothing had been too much trouble.
It was… nice.
Having people stare at you with warmth and thanks in their eyes instead of fear. Hell, it had even seemed to get to Rick too. After all, it wasn’t like the prisoners in Bella Reve were lining up to shake his hand any time soon.
He got as much shit as the rest of you did.
The man himself was currently seated beside you- at your insistence. Pulling him, bloody and bruised and injured from the wreckage of the building had put you on edge- or, if you were being honest, it had freaked you the fuck out for reasons you were far too tired to explore right now.
But every breath he exhaled, every gentle movement of his arm against yours, was enough to ground you for now at least.
You were content to bask in the warmth radiating from him.
It would take another two hours to reach the beach you had all been dumped on days ago- the journey one big middle finger from avery pissed off Waller.
But hey, fuck her, you thought smugly.
She was just irritated that she’d been outplayed at the very game she’d designed. Though, not a moment too soon.
Red ruffles shifted restlessly in the seat in front of you- Harley snorting out something nonsensical in her sleep. Her legs were sticking out into the middle of the aisle, sporting a few patches of gauze you had managed to talk her into putting on her injuries.
You smiled at her over the back of the chair, fondness in your expression. She was looking a bit worse for wear and somewhere along the way, she’d lost her javelin. But at least she was alive. She hadn’t stopped raving about being inside an alien’s head from the moment it had happened, right up until she’d passed out face down in the bus seat.
Unsanitary? Yes.
Did she give a fuck? No.
You had left her be, happy to bask in the various sounds of your friends simply existing- even if it meant dealing with Harley’s snoring. It had taken the others longer to fall asleep, but eventually, one by one, they had dropped off.
You could only guess the last time any of them had actually slept properly.
Cleo had succumbed next, curling herself into Nanaue of all… people? Did he count as people? All the same, he must have made a decent pillow because the girl seemed content enough burrowed against his side.
To his credit, the big guy was awfully gentle with her. One big fin draped softly across her like a blanket and he hadn’t moved a muscle ever since.
Did sharks sleep, you wondered to yourself?
Itseemed like he did because the noises he was making sounded suspiciously like snoring.
Abner had taken goddamn forever to doze off, still riding the high from his newfound ‘hero’ status. That and the coffee he’d been plied with at the last rest stop hadn’t helped- especially now that he’d crashed with his face plastered against the grimy bus window.
Having taken up residence at the very front of the bus, Robert had insisted that he would take the first watch. That he wasn’t tired yet.
Bullshit.
He’d fought it for the guts of an hour, his head lolling every now and then until it snapped back up. But eventually, his chin had hit his chest and not risen again, his breathing going even and causing Rick to nudge you.
You had laughed to yourselves, amused by how stubborn he was.
Beside you, Rick was staring out of the window at the passing trees- eyes heavy and one arm wrapped tightly against his wounded side. You let your eyes wander while he wasn’t looking, taking in the cuts and bruises that he’d sustained in his fight against Peacemaker.
The fucking backstabbing asshole, you thought bitterly.
You hadn’t stopped kicking yourself for not going with him back there. The cold that had washed over you when Cleo had grabbed your arm. Said those fucking words-
“I think he killed Colonel Flag.”
The floor had dropped out from underneath you, nausea and panic almost making your head spin. If not for DuBois steadying you with a hand on your shoulder, you wouldn’t have managed to make the trek back to where Cleo had last seen him.
You had heaved rubble out of the way like it was nothing, an intense fear driving you forward. You had honestly thought he was dead when you found him. Blood had ruined his shirt, spreading outwards from an angry stab wound in his side- the makeshift ceramic knife still embedded where Peacemaker had left it.
It had taken the rest of your energy to close the wound. You didn’t have enough juice to fix him up completely but the sound of his pained groan was like music to your ears- even though you had promptly passed out afterwards.
You had woken up again outside, your head in Rick’s lap and Harley leaning over you, patting your cheek with concern. Although… not quite as much concern as you had when you had caught sight of the gargantuan- hold on, was that a fucking starfish?- razing buildings to the ground in the distance.
But anyway, yeah, you were pissed off at yourself.
Mainly for trusting some- some- cheap Captain America knockoff with the man you-
“Stop beatin’ yourself up,” Rick said softly and you were surprised to find him looking directly at you when your attention snapped back to reality. “I ain’t no princess that you always need to swoop in and save ya’ know? I know what I’m getting myself into when I go off on my own,” he continued pointedly, leveling a look at you.
The flush that rose on your face was probably very noticeable but being the gentleman that he was, Rick didn’t point it out.
Though it didn’t stop a little smirk from tugging at the corner of his mouth as he turned his head towards the window again.
Picking at a loose threat on the bus seat, you furrowed your brow in disagreement.
“I know that,” you said, petulantly. “But you’re still a soft, squishy human Rick,” you continued, slumping back against your seat and crossing your arms like a teenager. “I’m supposed to look out for you, not let some asshole almost gut you.”
There was a beat of silence until he said-
“Cause I’m… soft ‘n squishy?” he asked dryly, obviously not agreeing with your assessment of his current physique. You cast an eye over him, looking from his solid shoulders to his muscular thighs and couldn’t help but disagree as well.
You knew that there was nothing soft about Colonel Rick Flag.
Youalso knew he was being purposely obtuse.
“Youknowwhat I mean,” you scoffed irritably, crossing your arms in an effort to ignore your rapidly derailing train of thought. He was gifted at many things and distracting you from your own thoughts was one of them. His widening smirk told you that he’d known exactly what you meant but had gotten a rise out of you anyway.
“Hmm,” he hummed lightly, neither in admission or denial.
“I should’ve known he was a rat,” you ground out, anger and fear catching in your throat and turning your voice gruff. An offended squeak from somewhere in the bus startled you both and you finally managed to crack an exasperated smile. “Um… no offence, Sebastian.”
A second squeak and then silence had both you and Rick breaking into silent, shaking laughter. You leaned in to each other to try and keep the noise down, wheezing at the absurdity of it all and hiding the sounds as best you could.
You pressed your face against his shoulder, enjoying the vibrations as he covered his mouth with his other hand.
It was a shame, you thought. He had such a nice smile.
When you had both composed yourself, anger and fear now banished for the moment by a rat, no less- you heaved a sigh and rested your head against him.
“This day has been so fuckin’ weird,” he drawled lowly and you couldn’t help but agree. You had been on some insane missions in the past few years but this one won the trophy for ‘fucked up shit the Government is hiding’ by a country mile.
“How’re you feelin’ anyhow?” he asked after a moment. “Took a lot outta you, fixin’ me up.”
You shrugged lazily, still enjoying the easy feeling that had settled between you both.
“I’m fine I guess. Nothing a long shower won’t fix.”
You weren’t exactly lying. Not really. Most of the trauma and exhaustion had come from thinking hewas dead and from losing some of your friends on the beach- what felt like weeks ago now. In reality, it had been about two days since you had touched down and chaos had erupted.
Two days since you had been rescued by the resistance and then dragged halfway across an island on a fucking crusade.
“I um,” you started, staring ahead inside of turning to face him- like a big coward. “I was pretty fucking scared Rick.”
“Hey,hey,” he said, sounding surprised at the slight break in your voice. His hand closed over yours, squeezing lightly. You rubbed your cheek against his shoulder, your eyes falling closed as you breathed in the scent of him. Sweat and blood and a lingering cologne that you had bought him for his birthday. “You’re okay now, darlin’. Everyone’s out and we’re going home.”
Your eyes burned, despite the reassuring words because damn him, he just didn’t get it.
“Rick, I was scared of losing you, you fucking idiot,” you choked out, still not looking at him. There was a sudden tension in him though. You could feel it through the muscles in his arm and the way that his thumb stopped rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. “When Cleo told me that she thought Peacemaker had killed you- God I…”
You couldn’t even get out the words to describe the feeling.
“There was me spending all my time worrying about you,” he said quietly, after a long moment of silence. His thumb started up the circles again and your stomach quivered pleasantly at his sudden admission. “…When the ceiling came down all I could think about was you. If you were okay. If you were even alive. Christ sweetheart… I was terrified.”
He turned his head and pressed a long kiss to the top of yours, probably trying to be reassuring.
His touch had an entirely different effect on you though. Heat rose rapidly in your stomach and tightened the muscles in your thighs. Oh damn. Now there was a reaction that you hadn’t expected to have so soon after almost dying- but it wasn’t exactly unwelcome either.
It felt good.
“Takes more than some shitty building to take me out,” you managed to grin, pretending with a great deal of effort that your mind hadn’t just derailed into thinking about fucking him in the back of this minibus in the midst of some of the biggest criminals Gotham had ever produced.
Rick, with soft eyes, beamed back at you with one of those sincere smiles that he reserved for special occasions.
“Oh, I’ll bet,” he exhaled, keeping his tone light as his gaze dropped to your lips and then back again. His hand left yours to rest heavily on your thigh and with his face suddenly inches away, you were rendered utterly speechless. “You ah… you wanna see if I have what it takes?”
You almost ceased to fucking be right there in the dirty old bus seat, Rick’s hand still burning through your pants and your heart beating so hard you thought it might try and climb out of your throat.
Oh.
Get some, girl.
You took a brief moment to glance around at your sleeping companions, then to the oblivious driver up front. The old man was humming to himself and concentrating on the darkened road ahead and the inside of the bus had dimmed considerably now that the sun had set. That was just another tick in the ‘yes’ column for you.
Surely, if you were quiet…
You turned to him to tell him as much, suddenly desperate to be close to him. The urge to quench the tangled, aching want that had suddenly risen in your stomach was overwhelming and the nearness of your companions was looking less and less like a deterrent with each passing second.
As always, Rick was one step ahead of you.
By the time you were facing him again he was already tugging you in, kissing you with a fervour you wouldn’t have suspected of him before. That was all it took to push away any lingering reluctance you might have had over fucking in the back of a minibus.
It didn’t even take a thought for you to deepen the tentative kiss to something more exploratory- as months of what Harley had called ‘sickening sexual tension’, bubbled over.
Of all the goddamn places for it to happen.
You moaned into his mouth without thinking, a hungry sound that had him drawing you in close with rough fingers on the back of your neck. His hand was big enough that his fingertips brushed against your throat- igniting fire in your cunt and breaking the seal on a whole litany of filthy fantasies.
His tongue teased yours playfully and for a moment, as you processed what was actually happening, you were nothing more than a willing passenger on this incredibly hot journey. You shifted in your seat, no longer content to stretch your neck and instead angled your body towards him- one leg pulled up so you could turn.
When he pulled his mouth from yours, breathing ragged, he said-
“’Msofucking glad you didn’t die darlin’,” he rumbled and his nose brushed yours, faces millimetres apart. “I couldn’t have gone back to that place without you.”
Pleasure warred with a mixed bag of emotions that suddenly threatened to overwhelm you. It was rare you got that level of honesty from anyone, but hearing it from your usually stoic, aloof boss? Especially when it concerned his feelings for you of all people?
Well. It was enough to make a girl forget she was in a semi-public place.
Then he was kissing you again and pleasure rolled in waves through you, coming to a throbbing pinpoint between your legs. He looked as though his only desire right now was to rip your clothes off and make the most out of what little space you had to work with. You couldn’t find an ounce of will to reject the idea and so you moved, straddling his lap.
Your knees dug into the grooves of the seat beneath, your ass coming to rest on his thighs as you indulged yourself in one of the most pornographic kisses you had ever experienced.
You could feel wet, aching warmth between your legs, spreading and soaking through your panties. Your clit pulsed, desperate for a little friction and it was almost like Rick could read your fucking mind. His hands fell to your hips, tugging and shimmying you further into him- slotting himself between your legs and grinding the hard line of his cock against you.
“Fuck,”you slurred against his lips, a full body shiver prickling across your skin.
His lips dragged across yours, kisses growing sloppier while his hands spread wide and grasped your ass to rock you into him. Your stomach muscles quivered despite the protest of pain in every other inch of your body.
It was hard to think about anything when he was nipping at you, all sweaty, hot skin and distracting touches.
“This is gonna have’ta be quick and dirty, darlin’,” he purred into your ear, still encouraging you to rub yourself against him. You honestly couldn’t think of a reason that it was a bad idea. You nuzzled the side of his head, your hand on the back of his neck as you peppered kisses along his jawline. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear but- fucking goddamn- I gotta fuck you right here and now.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to take things slow later, Rick,” you pointed out, with probably the last coherent thoughts you would have in a while. “I don’t need candles or romance or any of that shit. Just want you,” you breathed, finally pressing your forehead against his- breathing him in.
He snorted, amused, his hands trailing up and down your sides.
“Who said anything about candles, sweetheart? I’m pissed that I don’t get to eat you out first,” he said, his voice dipping into something low and sensual as the words practically dripped like sin off of his tongue. “’S all I ever think about, ya know? Fucking you with my tongue. Feeling your thighs shake when you squeeze them around my head. Missing out? Well, that’s a goddamn tragedy is what it is.”
You had to stare at him for a long moment, all remnants of speech stripped from you as you imagined him doing just that. A moment passed, tension thick in the air- before you lunged forward and caught him in a needy kiss.
From across the bus, someone shifted in their sleep, mumbling something you couldn’t make out.
You both paused, torn between listening and the desire to keep going.
When all was silent again, you went right back to it, grinding tight, fast circles into Rick’s lap. Your fingertips dug into his shoulders, lips parting as you softly panted against his mouth. His eyes never left yours, half challenging you to push yourself further and half impressed by just how risky you were already being.
If you were being honest with yourself, almost losing him had stripped away any inhibitions you might have clung to before.
Right now, you were content to reassure yourself that he was safe and warm and solid- so fucking solid- under your palms. From the way his hands squeezed your hips, you could guess that he was trying to do that same thing.
Those same hands were moving now. Up over your waist, your ribs, cupping your breasts with long clever fingers. The urgent touch drew a whimper out of you that he caught with his mouth, his answering chuckle almost bordering on smug.
You couldn’t find the energy to muster up some sarcastic reply though, not when his thumbs began working neat little circles around your nipples. He tipped his head forward, burying his face into your chest and probably wishing that he wasn’t separated from your skin by your shirt.
It didn’t stop him from closing his lips around your taut nipple though, giving it a hard nip with his teeth.
Your head emptied of all thoughts other than- skin on skin.
Fuck it.
Gripping the bottom of your shirt, you fumbled with it for a moment before yanking it up and over your breasts. Rick quickly got the message and was kind enough to relieve you of your bra- pulling it down and tucking it under your tits.
He didn’t waste a second, his mouth covering one nipple and his fingers eagerly toying with the other. The sensation was divine and it forced your head to fall backwards, lolling on your shoulders as the strength left your body. The only dexterity you possessed in that moment was the ability to thread your fingers through the short hairs on the back of his head- holding him against you while his tongue lapped eager circles.
If this was any indication of his oral skills then you were sorry that he hadn’t gotten to eat you out too.
“I always thought you’d be an ass kinda guy,” you giggled lowly into his ear when he finally lifted his head again. He shot you a lazy, pleased smile- clearly happy with himself and the splash of red he’d painted across your cheeks.
“Honey, I’m thinkin’ I’m just a youkinda guy,” he rumbled, but one hand did leave your chest to travel downwards- splaying out across your ass now that you’d sort of given him permission. The grip gave him leverage to grind upwards even harder and take advantage of the fact that his admission had rendered you helpless.
You gaped at him, unsure of how to even respond to that.
Frankly, he could do anything he wanted to you as long as he kept saying sweet shit like that.
In that moment, you swore to yourself that you would never leave his side during a mission again-never let anyone get the drop on him again. If anyone was getting stabbed, then goddamn it, it was gonna be you!
“Stopthinkin’ like that,” he admonished, nosing at your jawline. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the sudden throb you experienced when he used his Colonel voice on you.
“How the fuck do you do that?”
“I can just tell. You’re like an open book. ‘M right here sweetheart,” he said and the confusion from a moment before was replaced with something strange and foreign in your stomach. “I’m not gonna leave you if I can help it. I ain’t like that.”
It was like a fucking dam bursting and every single one of the terrifying emotions that you’d been shoving down behind anger and lust and- and annoyance, spilled out in the form of hot tears. Tears you only realized you were crying when his eyes widened and he brought a hand up to cup your cheek- wiping away wetness.
The lazy grinding motion you had been continuing ceased as you clamped your hand over your mouth to stifle your sudden sobs.
You had almost fuckinglosthim.
There had almost been no more… no more shared looks across a room. No more whispered jokes at Waller’s expense. No more gentle touches and moments where he just- got you. No more stupid grins or rushed breakfasts or wondering how the hell you were going to get through another round of debriefs together.
So many moments past and yet to come and he had almost not been there to see them with you.
“Don’t… don’t you ever fucking do that to me again,” you managed, drawing him in for a frenzied, desperate kiss. This one was different than those that came before and you both knew it. The teasing was over.
Rick curled his muscular arm around your waist and plastered you against him, not giving you an inch of breathing space as he devoured you.
You slid your hands upwards and underneath that ridiculous yellow shirt he was wearing, needing to feel his skin.Your fingertips traced the curves and lines of his defined stomach and chest- tugging the shirt upwards but ever careful to avoid the angry wounds he’d sustained in the past few days. But the contact was enough to get your blood pumping again.
“Please,” you said, bucking your hips.
He seemed to share the sentiment- tugging at your belt and zipper until they were splayed open. He flattened his hand hurriedly and slid it inside- under the elastic of your panties and down. His hand was fever hot and your breath left you all at once as he cupped it over your dripping cunt and slipped a finger inside.
Your exhale was hot and heavy against his neck and mindlessly you returned the favour, palming his cock with shaking hands. He grit his teeth, clearly sensitive even through the thick material of his pants.
His fingers dipped inside you without much resistance- drawing out a whine that caught in the back of your throat.
“Darlin’, is this all for me? You’re really dripping all over my fingers after a little makin’ out?” he drawled, arousal thickening his accent into something that honestly made you even wetter. Of course, being who he was, he immediately noticed that his voice had an effect on you, curling his fingers forward inside you to press into your g-spot.
You choked on your response and he laughed lowly, proud of himself.
“Fuck sweetheart, you’re such a fuckin’ good girl for me.”
Another flood of wetness seeped out of you and onto his hand and he breathed a moan so sweet that it made your thighs tremble. He began a steady, rocking rhythm in and out, managing to keep it going despite the restriction of your pants around his wrist.
“Oh, so that’s it,” he continued, smug as ever. “You like bein’ called my good girl, don’t you?”
Words? Never heard of them.
All you could do was nod feverishly, desperate for him not to stop. You had no misgivings about letting him know that yes, he was turning you into a sloppy mess of a human right now- with nothing more than his accent and a few choice words.
He pressed his lips to your throat as your hips bucked, scissoring his fingers apart and pressing his thumb directly against your clit- and hallelujah, it looked as though big bad Colonel Flag was a man who didn’t need directions to the clit.
Lucky, lucky you.
You jolted sharply, biting back a moan at the sweet stretch of your muscles. His fingers were so damn thick that it was seriously making you question just how much of Colonel Flag you were going to be able to take.
But Hell, mama didn’t raise no quitter.
Your hands urged him in for another kiss, using his neck for leverage.
“Christ,” he panted when he pulled away, partly due to what he was doing to you and partly because you were now stroking a steady rhythm over his cock. “How discreetly can you get out of those pants?”
You had to laugh then, because as much as he was ruining you- it was clear you were having the same affect on him. You chuckled, peppering little kisses over his face and not even attempting to keep the stupid smile from your own. He must have heard himself too because he snorted, chest vibrating.
“So romantic,” you pointed out, smoothing your hands across his shoulders.
“I mean, I couldorder you to do it- seeing as that’s somethin’ you clearly enjoy,” he leered, his tongue pressed to the point of a canine as he did. The very thought of it was enough to wipe the smile from your face and spur you into action.
Apparently, Rick giving you orders was a kink that you had hidden very, very poorly.
You wiggled your eyebrows at him, expression wicked and just a teeny bit smug. You could be so goddamn sneaky when you wanted to be. Nipping at his bottom lip once, you slid out of his lap- ending up with your body wedged between his spread legs and the seats behind you.
As much as he might have wanted to keep watch for the sign of anyone stirring awake, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you shimmied out of your pants. Everything was kicked aside into a pile on the dusty bus floor and then you were naked from the waist down and Rick was looking as though he was about to combust.
You tucked a finger under his chin, raising his face upwards so you could look at him and break him out of his slack jawed staring.
“Earth to Colonel Flag,” you said quietly. “I’m not gonna fuck myself, am I?”
Rick seemed to come back to his senses, shaking himself. He hurriedly yanked his belt buckle apart and then his zipper, lifting his hips as much as he could to shove his pants down. You certainly weren’t above helping him do it, getting them to his knees before going to work on his boxer briefs- the ones that hugged the shape of his hard cock.
There was a darker spot against the head, where precum had been gathering and it made you a little sad that you wouldn’t get to have so much as taste. You were kind of on a schedule after all.
His underwear got the same treatment as his pants and you took just a moment for yourself, to admire the thick length of him resting hard and ready against his thigh. Your mouth was incredibly dry all of a sudden- but before you could change your mind and simply go down on him instead- his fingers were digging against the back of your thighs to pull you forward.
“C’mere, there’s a good girl,” he hummed, pleased when your attention switched rapidly again and you complied without hesitation.
Hell, how were you supposed to say no when he asked so nicely?
His tongue licked a line over your jaw as you breathlessly resumed your position from before. Tilting your hips forward and widening your knees, you felt the head of his cock press between the lips of your pussy. You whined, dropping your face against his shoulder as he gripped himself in one hand and urged you to lower down further with the other.
Heads buried together as you both stared between your bodies, you watched and felt the head of him press inside you. Fuck- it had either been a really long time or he was more than a little bigger than the average guy you’d slept with. He slid in further, deeper, his breath mixing hotly with yours as he tested just how far he could go before you needed a moment.
He got halfway before you tapped his forearm, signalling that you needed a breather.
“You good, sweetheart?” he asked lowly and you nodded, blood thumping in your ears and making you a little bit dizzy. Trembling, your breath hot against his neck, you bucked mindlessly and his answering grunt was like music to your ears.
Bit by bit, you continued on until he was seated inside you all the way, making your thighs shake and your muscles tighten.
“You-” he breathed mindlessly as you rocked into him. “Are so fuckin’ tight sweetheart.”
“I knew you liked me all along,” you laughed softly, managing at least one full sentence before your brain shorted out completely and you basically returned to one word answers. His mouth dropped open when he gripped your ass and rolled his hips upwards, a low moan ripping from his throat that should have been loud enough to worry you both but you were way past worrying now.
“Think I’m long past just liking you,” he snorted a laugh and with his head rolled back like that it was so easy for you to press hot, open mouthed kisses along the column of his throat. His stubble was beginning to grow in and by the time you got to his chin it was scratching you pleasantly.
As quiet as you were both trying to be, the soft slap of skin on skin was still loud in your ears and if anyone woke up right now then they would be in for a treat- because there was no fucking way you were stopping.
The pressure building in your stomach was quickly becoming intense, especially with the head of his cock doing an excellent job of prodding your g-spot with every downwards stroke. The stretch was much like you’d suspected it would be judging by the size of his fingers- but any discomfort was swiftly overtaken by a sweet, burning ache.
Rick seemed perfectly content to let you work away and you guessed that his side was still hurting him- so you were more than happy to oblige.
His eyes were hooded as he watched you ride him, languidly following you as you bounced in his lap. Tipping back as far as you could with the seat behind you, you kept one hand on his chest while his fell to your hips again- setting your pace.
He squeezed softly, urging you to speed up a little, his lips parting as his gaze raked over you from your blushing face to where he was sinking in and out of you.
“Goddamn,” he murmured, suddenly transfixed at the sight of his cock splitting you apart.
He dropped one hand to thumb across your clit lightly, almost teasingly and then reveled in the way it made your thighs tense and tremble like you were seconds away from coming. Truth be told, you kind of were. Life affirming fucking, coupled with the adrenaline of the day had rid you of any chance you had of keeping your orgasm at bay.
Edging could wait until your friends weren’t sleeping mere feet away.
Rick must have felt much the same way, because he pulled you in tightly to his body again so he could talk without being heard- although it was becoming harder and harder to keep your moaning to a minimum.
Your lip was bitten almost to the point of bleeding for fuck sake.
“Can I… ah…?” he asked breathlessly, eyes darting down quickly enough for you to get the message and yes. It was absolutely fucking adorable that the man who had been happily calling you a good girl, telling you howwetyou were with such confidence that it had made you even wetter- was suddenly a little shy when it came to asking just where he could blow his load.
“Rick,” you huffed a laugh against his mouth, your hand on his cheek. “If you’re asking if you can come inside me then fuck yes.”
He groaned so sinfully that it made you jerk in his lap, picking up speed as he fucked into you rougher than before. That muscular arm that you’d been happily ogling earlier, encircled your waist again as your hips drove into his thrusts.
Sweat beaded on his neck, rolling down and disappearing under his shirt and fuck you should not have found that as attractive as you did.
His breathing was quickening and you knew from the way his stomach muscles were tensing under your fingers that he was moments away from coming. You whined softly into his ear, sweet words of encouragement driving him on.
Despite the hot, electric atmosphere between you, he laughed.
“As if I’d let a lady take second place,” he growled through heavy breaths, fanning hot air against your lips as he shoved his hand between you both. Two fingers began a litany of tight, quick circular motions on your clit and- and- and-
The sob that rose up as you came was only muffled because he had the good foresight to kiss you hard at that very second- otherwise you would have woken the whole fucking island, never mind the bus. Your thighs trembled pathetically- clamping tightly to his waist as your inner muscles fluttered around his cock.
He fucked you through it, though his thrusts were quickly dissolving into erratic, irregular jerks as he neared his climax.
A few more thrusts and his answering moan was cut off by him burying his face into the curve of your shoulder.
He gave a sharp gasp, short shaky movements followed by hot, wet heat spreading between your legs as he came inside you. His hand spread wide across the small of your back, keeping you in place as he did, like the fact that he had your permission to come where he liked was the perfect excuse to make sure he did so as deeply as possible.
You certainly didn’t mind.
Maybe you should salute, you thought in amusement as he curled his arms around you in a tight- borderline possessive- hug. Like a big cat with his prey. He nosed at your neck, your shoulder and then your lips. His kisses were hot and languid, like he wanted to draw the moment out for as long as possible.
“So fuckin’ good,” he mumbled before stealing your breath away again.
You should really be scrambling to get your clothes back on before everyone woke up, but the warm wetness slowly dripping from your pussy was making it a little difficult to focus right now. All you wanted to do was stay here, in his lap- in his arms- for the next week as you recovered.
This was some damn good afterglow.
Rick’s hand found your cheek, his thumb swiping a wide line across your cheekbone. You leaned into the heat, into the softness of his touch and when your eyes met his, there was a deep affection there that had been mostly hidden until now.
Don’t get you wrong, there had been moments, little flashes of it here and there- but never anything as solid and sure as the way he was staring at you right now. Bringing your hand up to cover his, you smiled warmly at him.
“Hi,” you whispered, acknowledging that you were all starry eyed and grinning like a fool.
His lips quirked, amused by your expression and entirely unaware that his own was the same. He hummed a low, quiet laugh that vibrated in his chest, raking his eyes over you and admiring the well fucked look that he’d help put there.
“Hi sweetheart,” he replied at last, tugging you in to press your forehead to his. He exhaled at the contact, muscles relaxing at long last. You hadn’t realized quite how tense he was- although, in your defence he was very good at distracting you.
“If you two are gonna fuck again, at least have the decency to leave the fucking bus!”
You both froze as Robert’s icy tone cut right through the hum of the engine and the shitty, mostly static radio that had been playing up front.
Locking eyes with Rick, you felt your face go beet red. Instead of answering though, you simply chose to ignore the situation- burying your face into his neck to hide it. For fuck sake! You still had Rick’s cock in you and you were dripping combined come onto his lap- and DuBois was probably glaring at you both like he was going to shank you.
Thankfully, Rick wasn’t nearly as mortified over being caught as you were.
“Well don’t fuckin’ spy on us then, asshole,” he barked, making sure his hands were covering you- even though the seats in front of you meant that all he could really see was your shoulders and head. Robert levelled a ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ look at Rick, that you caught from the corner of your eye.
“Spy on you? Like you were subtle about it?” he scoffed disbelievingly. Rick, to his credit, had the good grace to look a little chastised by that. Neither of you had really been thinking about much else for the past forty minutes. “About as subtle as a Nanaue backhand to the face.”
“Oh hush, Robbie! I thought it was sweet!”
Oh Jesus H. Christ.
She had awoken.
All the fight and embarrassment went out of you as Harley’s head appeared over the seats. You had been well and truly caught red-handed.
Despite his non-reaction to Robert, Harley’s sudden appearance was a little too much for the so far stoic Colonel because he jumped in surprise- jostling you in the process and swearing up a storm. He gathered you up in his arms, wrapping them around your ass to keep you covered when Harley peered curiously over the head rest.
Which was very, very sweet- but unnecessary. As much as it pained you to admit… she had seen you in worse situations than this.
“Hey, hey! Eyesup,” he snapped, cheeks going red when Harley just laughed in his face.
“Oh don’t be such a buzzkill! I ain’t lookin’. Much.”
“Rick, it’s okay,” you assured him, patting his arm as a signal that it was fine to let you go. He did, although reluctantly, taking turns to glare at both Robert and Harley in succession. You turned towards her, attempting to ignore the sensation of having an actual dickstill inside you while you looked her in the eye.
She only had to look at you a certain way though and your bravado withered- quickly replaced by a raging embarrassment.
“How long have you been listening to us?” you asked, applauding the way your voice didn’t shake even a little. Give this gal an Oscar.
“Long enough to know that a certain someone has a lil’ praise kink. Good for you honey,” she said, her pleased stare unyielding as it bore into you. “You two are gonna work so well together! He’s all possessive and growly and you like bein’ told that you’re his good girl and oh, it’s just all so romantic!” she said, clapping her hands together and practically swooning.
You gaped at her, torn between laughing and taking her head off.
“Harls-” was all you managed to choke out while Rick could only say-
“I’m fuckin’ what!? Growly? The fuck does thatmean?”
She shushed you both though, looking far too pleased with herself.
“Ohcalm down. You’re the ones who played capture the Flag in the back of the bus. Own it,” she said simply, then blew you a kiss and reclined back to her previous position.
Okay, so that wasn’t awful advice. You had taken the chance knowingly and been caught red-handed. That didn’t mean that you hadn’t gotten exactly what you wanted and more. If Rick’s sudden possessiveness over you said anything, it was that this was just the start of this things between you both.
What more could you have asked for, really?
“I mean personally? I wish there had been more vocals but overall I’d give it a solid nine out of ten,” said Abner, face still pressed against the window and his voice slurred. You balked, horrified, in his direction. Hadevery motherfucker on this bus heard you and Rick going at it? You were beginning to suspect that none of them had actually been asleep at all- until thankfully Cleo snorted something nonsensical before rolling onto her back.
You eyed Nanaue briefly, until you were pleased that he was still out of it too before going back to Abner.
“Abner, you don’t know shit,” was your eloquent response to that.
Rick seemed to lose any composure he had left, burying his face against your neck and laughing hard- his whole body shaking and causing your own little round of giggles, pressing kisses to the top of his head while he hugged you.
“Personally, I never want to hear either of you orgasm again,” Robert grunted, still absolutely disgusted. But then he paused, making a ‘well actually’ face before turning to you. “Well… maybe you, sweetheart,” he added thoughtfully.
Rick stopped laughing almost immediately, his head snapping up to glare over you shoulder. You turned too, face irritated. Off your dry look, and Rick’s absolutely feral expression, Robert snorted and held his hands up and looked away.
“Just saying.”
“Say something else,” Rick grumbled daringly, a petulant look on his face that you kissed away.
“Come on, Romeo,” you said at last, pushing his head to one side. “Nothing to hide now.”
Appearing to agree, Rick heaved a sigh and finally lifted your ass, encouraging you upwards. He pulled out of you- followed by a rush of combined come. You tried your absolute best to hide the moan that it triggered but you weren’t successful in the least- the gasp drawing out a ‘for fuck sake’ from DuBois and a ‘get some!’ from Harley.
“Both of you, fuck off!”
More giggles and more of Robert’s irritated scoffing followed as Rick cleaned you up as best he could, using his shirt to do so. Fuck that thing was ruined. Even so… you had a feeling that you would probably be washing and keeping it somewhere in the back of your closet when you all got back.
It was sweet of him too, to take care of you like that, despite the lack of resources.
Eventually, you were both decent again and you flopped back into your seat- contented and spent and eager to get off this stupid fucking island.
Rick’s fingers laced through yours after a moment, as silence finally reigned again and eventually, you began to doze off against his shoulder- exhausted from the day and the sex combined. Life affirming sex was great, don’t get you wrong, but it had sapped any remaining energy in your body. The same seemed to be said for him too as he rested his cheek on the top of your head.
“You know,” you mumbled sleepily and he hummed in question. “I’d give it a full ten out of ten. Abner can suck a dick.”
Rick’s shoulders shook with laughter again- a feeling you hoped to experience much more of in the future.
“Yeah? Me too, darlin’,” he snorted, planting a kiss against your hair. “Ten outta fuckin’ ten.”
