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Love Begins
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@f1ag
#F1AG an independant mutuals only multimuse writing blog for an interpretation based RICK FLAG of DC comics. low activity and private. do NOT follow if you are a shitty person, don't accept every kind of human being regardless of race, sexuality, gender, etc.. and are under the age of twenty one. pronouns they/them, goes by axel (30+). triggering themes are and will be present.
@tornp4ge ♥️
it came hand and hand with the job. drunk, old geezers making perverted jests [or sometimes even advances] at her. maria struggled to find balance between professionalism and a good old knock to the noggin. the audacity, most even flaunting off their wedding rings as if loyalty wasn’t part of the vow made to their wives. next time someone tries to hit on you, call me over. @f1ag must’ve seen the look on her face after that last encounter, utter repulsion etched within contoured features. “what? you think i can’t handle myself?” she teases, the shadow of a smile just barely grazing ‘pon lips — indicating her lack of solemnity. “but hey, if it helps feed into your savior complex then sure thing.” using bar top and the side of fist to knock off bottle cap [she’d gotten wickedly good at that] before handing the beer over to him. “it’s on the house, slugger.”
he’d had his eye on her all night. how could he not? she was beautiful, that was damn sure. unlike these degenerates though - rick wasn’t about to throw himself at her. eyes roll back as another poor excuse of a man tries too hard to get her attention. he’s seen enough. it’s the reason he offers to take care of them, if she wishes. by the reaction he gets - the solider’s not so sure.
“ouch, that stung darlin’.” he smooths over with a crooked grin. “appreciate the free beer though.” he appeared to have a soft spot for stubborn women. they’d undoubtedly be his downfall one of these days. “sometimes i wonder who the hell raised these clowns. if my momma ever caught me talkin’ to a lady like that, she’d smack the punk right outta me.” might’ve happened once or twice, shaped him up real quick. forearms come down to rest against bar, eyes searching her gaze for something more, something she’s refusing to give up. “you alright? i can handle that prick outside. never bother ya again, can promise ya that. solider’s word.”
the morning light spilled through the window in soft ribbons, gilding the kitchen in a warmth that felt almost sacred. karen moved through the space with the quiet ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before, though it had never felt quite like this — like love in motion, like devotion pressed into the curve of a wooden spoon & the careful crack of an egg against porcelain. the scent of coffee curled into the air, rich & steady, filling the room the way she wished she could fill all the hollow spaces war had left in him. her body still hummed with the echoes of last night, the way his hands had mapped her like he was relearning every inch of her, the way he had murmured her name like a prayer against her skin. now, she stood barefoot in his shirt, sleeves rolled up past her wrists, humming under her breath as she plated the eggs just the way he liked them. a small thing. an ordinary thing. but to love a soldier like rick was to cherish the mornings, to press gratitude into the quiet acts of living, to whisper stay with every tender offering.
she felt him before she heard him, the weight of his presence settling behind her like a gravity she would never resist. he didn’t speak, but his hands found her waist, slow & sure, fingers splayed against the fabric of the shirt that barely belonged to her now. karen smiled, tilting her head back just enough for her temple to brush against his jaw, her skin still warm where his mouth had traced its path hours before. ❝i made you breakfast, ❞ she murmured, though he had to know — had to smell the butter-kissed toast, the crisp bacon, the love woven into every careful detail. she turned in his arms, pressing her hands against the broad planes of his chest, tracing the fabric as if she might find the imprint of her own touch from the night before. ❝sit,❞ she said softly, eyes warm, voice laced with something that felt like forever. ❝let me take care of you. ❞
@f1ag
exhaustion settled into his bones ever since returning home. she made it easy for him to relax, to cherish the small moments that felt fleeting whenever he wasn’t tangled in her embrace. he’d craved that delicate touch while being plunged into battle and pitiless violence. counting down the days until he’d return back to her. the adrenaline overseas kept him going, kept him fighting a never ending war. but now he could breathe lighter, and take time to heal sore - war battered body.
the smell of eggs and burnt toast filled his nostrils, waking him from deep slumber. karen knew the way to a man’s heart in more ways than one. food being on the top of the list. dragging himself out of bed and into the doorway where broad shoulder leaned against frame, baby blues taking in the beautiful site of her. messy blonde hair - from the night prior - cascading down her back, draped in nothing but his t-shirt. yeah, he could get used to this.
hands find her hips as he snuck up from behind, pulling petite form into him. face burrowed against the crook of her neck while drinking in that sweet - distinct scent that always drove him WILD. whenever mind drifted to those unpleasant images out on the battlefront, this was what he used to anchor him back - these moments with karen. she’d saved him in many ways and didn’t even know it.
“take care of me, huh?” calloused hand finding its place on her cheek, the back of fingers stroking against soft skin. “you’re so fucking perfect, you know that?” flashing a crooked smirk down at her while taking in every single detail to memory of light features. one of these days, he was going to give her his last name - and that was one promise made to himself that he intended on keeping. “you didn’t forget the bacon this time.” taking a piece off the frying pan before biting off crispiest part. “mmm, that’s some good bacon baby.” feeding her a bite as well before lifting her up against kitchen counter without warning. “but i have an appetite for something else right now.” hands gripping bare thighs while sliding them further up, lips ghosting over hers. “now it’s my turn.. to take care of you.” karen page, the one person who could ever get rick flag down on his damn knees.
“ who did this to you ? ”
BLAIR'S KRYPTONITE // ACCEPTING
some days, she'd give anything to be on the front lines again ─WAR WAS EASIER THAN THIS. it gave her fewer nightmares but prepared her to harvest what little control she had in an uncontrolled environment. though, if someone decided to throw a hailmaker out of ignorant spite, she would have been able to double the retribution and take the mark on her record. in any other stratosphere or vocation, she would have fought back and been in the right. in the emergency room, triangle chokes and armbars don't bode well for patient satisfaction or board guidelines. she just had to take it on the cheek.
and it's there, plain to see through a good dose of sutures where the skin split beneath her left eye. stitched up and put back in despite the insistence of her attending to go home early. long day, wayward thoughts creeping under his scrutiny. ❛ god, rick, don't look at me like that. i'm fine. ❜ SHE FELT SMALL...WEAK. not because of him but for what she used to be, what he had been used to. for how the rage surged in her blood enough that she hadn't pulled herself back off the mental ledge.
this was meant to be a softer existence.
❛ angry patient. ❜ ire fades as the surface breaks, the strength of her voice wavered. gloria hides behind the long-deserved glass of scotch, shame kept her gaze from the familiarity of him. ❛ blindsided me when i was grabbing my attending from outside. ❜
maybe he was raised in a different time, or way - but you never laid a hand on a woman. ms. flag, single mother and all, had imbedded that into his brain since he could remember. one tough lady who equally displayed as much love as she did discipline. he couldn’t blame her. wrestling two hyperactive boys all on her own. hell, it damn sure couldn’t of been easy, but she did more than good. considering he’d like to imagine him and his brother turned out alright.
staring at gloria, he sees that same fire. a lone wolf who held her own better than any man he’d come across on the front. that didn’t mean his blood didn’t boil over with uncontrollable RAGE when staring at that soft, delicate - now battered and packed with stitches, cheek. she could take it, handle it better than most men he knew. none of that mattered though.
fists instinctively clench and unclench at his sides while listening and taking in every detail of her story. “angry patient, huh? bet he’s about to get a whole lot angrier.” he’s not thinking straight, blinded by something he can’t put into words just yet. fists have always been quick to take over in these situations. “where is he now? and don’t fuckin’ try to talk me outta it, gloria. any man who has the balls to lay hands on a woman, should equally have the balls to take a beating from a man his size.” fingers come up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. already knowing her stubborn ways and how she’ll take offense to what he’s saying, even if he means absolutely none at all. “i’m not saying you can’t take care of yourself. so don’t even fuckin’ go there. just point me in his direction. alright?”
Charlie Hunnam as William 'Ironhead' Miller Triple Frontier, 2019 | dir. J. C. Chandor ↳ requested by @voxmortuus
eliza is still grumbling and rapping her fists against rick's back even as he settles her down from over his shoulder, already hell-bent on continuing to gripe before her feet even touch the ground.
"why'd you have to go an' knock him out like that?" she scolds, giving her companion a hearty shove to the chest before glaring at him, “i started that fight - i could’a finished it!” and as much as the stubborn heart believes that truth, it doesn’t change the fact that her opponent could’ve stomped her flat. she catches her breath, sitting in the prickly silence as she begins to swallow her pride.
as insistently as eliza reprimands rick, her frustrated, pinched brows soon begin to give way to her bleeding empathy - care is written across her features as she leans in, reaching to cradle rick’s face in her hands, gentle to touch and examine the areas where he seems to have taken a hit or two. when she speaks up again, it’s with a kinder tone, “... i don’t like seein’ you get hurt.”
* / @f1ag 🤍
she’s a rowdy one. that’s for damn sure. little spitfire with a whole lotta bite. the man ignored the kicks and flails the entire way back while keeping little miss outlaw tossed over one shoulder. “yeah, yeah. you’ll get ‘em next time tough guy.”
it was kinda cute and pretty goddamn amusing. the way she picked a fight with a dude half her size. rick wasn’t about to let him touch her, though. shot that down real quick with a left hook right between the eyes. BOOM - instant knockout, not before the fucker could get a few cheap shots in though. the fact that the hill billy even attempted to raise a hand to her was infuriating. lucky that’s all he got outta rick. if stupid enough to show his face round these parts again, he’ll be walking around with two broken hands.
she’s pissed, he lets her take it out on him. unable to hide his amusement with a little smirk. just as fast as that fire starts, it simmers even quicker. compassion displayed towards the man who’d never break her honor, or allow anyone else to do so for that matter. “i’m fine darlin. couple of cheap shots ain’t nothin to worry your pretty little head over.” her hands feel soft against the stubble on his cheeks, casting a reassuring grin down at her. “how bout you buy me a drink and we call it even?”
whose gonna let rick use them as a workout prop? your muse can wrap themselves around him while he does pull ups on the bar. extra motivation if there’s cleavage involved.
PAPILLON, 2017 dir. Michael Noer
someone please tell rick it’s okay to rot on the sofa sometimes. this man is constantly on the go. 5k marathon for charity? he’s there. heavy weight lifting at the gym? yeah, he’s never skipping leg day. jiu jitsu? don’t ask him twice. shooting range? that’s like his second home. this man has NO CHILL.
helena finds him sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed. the dim light from the nightstand casts long shadows across his back, highlighting the tension in his shoulders. she doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong — she knows that look, the weight of ghosts that never really leave. instead, she moves without thinking, settling herself behind him, hands ghosting over his back before she presses her cheek between his shoulder blades.
❝you always run quiet when it’s bad,❞ she murmurs, her breath warm against his skin. her fingers find the knots at the base of his neck, working them loose with slow, deliberate pressure. ❝ you don’t have to say anything—i know. i know, rick.❞ she leans in, lips brushing the curve of his spine, something tender in the way she lingers. ❝but you’re here. we’re here. & that counts for something, doesn’t it? ❞
her arms slip around his waist, pulling him back against her, anchoring him in the quiet. ❝you carry too much, ❞ she says softly, resting her chin on his shoulder now. ❝let me hold some of it. just for tonight.❞ he exhales, not a word spoken, but she feels the way his body sags just a little, the smallest surrender. it’s enough. she presses another kiss to his shoulder, then simply holds him, steady & sure, until the weight eases, even just a little.
@f1ag / making up for lost time
never did rick so much as believe there’d be a day where he’d move on from june. a man who didn’t fall in love - and who in their right mind would even be able to love him? the shell of a man who’d seen and done unspeakable, inhumane things. blame it on the years of warefare - conditioned to hunt, kill. marred hands that told stories of which laid buried six feet under. june saw him. brought the softer, humane side out of him. something he refused to believe was even innately possible. when she died, so did those parts of him. too guilt ridden and angry to see beyond anything else.
DROWNING IN GRIEF.
then she came along - his beautiful angel of death, that dragged him out of those depths of hell he wallowed in ever since june. helena carved a place for herself in his heart, and from every breath onward - he’d protect her with his life, and love her until his last day on this godforsaken planet.
part of him knew june would want this, want him to find love again - but that didn’t lessen his guilt. she didn’t get her happy ending. didn’t get the chance to start a family, and dammit she would’ve made an amazing mother one day. none of that would happen for her - because of him, because he couldn’t save her. that hurt like all hell, and weighed heavy on his heart every damned day.
she read him like an open book. it didn’t take long before he was immersed in her warmth. strapping form slowly sinking back against helena, careful not to place too much weight on her. lids fall shut as anguished thoughts slowly fade to black. focused on her - the way she feels, smells. like pure sunshine and daffodils with a hint of musk. it’s the best way he can describe it - intoxicating. “ya always manage to know just what i need.” turning to face her, hand coming up to press against tender cheek as fingers get lost in long - dark hair. “your so damn beautiful.” leaning in to rest forehead against hers before those dreaded three words leave his lips, “i love you.” he exhales, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.
CHARLIE HUNNAM as RALEIGH BECKET Pacific Rim (2013) dir. Guillermo del Toro
i didn't realize it was you when i first saw you. / from dinah.
a friendly grin twitched against the corner of mouth. one that doesn’t meet the eyes - blame it on his lack of sleep. he’s tired, long night trying to keep suicide squad in check. why waller assigned him he could understand, was flattered even - but that doesn’t keep the bite of annoyance away. there’s a million other things he could be doing right now.
being in dinah’s presence wasn’t half bad though. he won’t take out his frustrations on her. “so why they call ya in so late? or are’ya here to keep my ass in line?” using tongue to roll toothpick from one side of mouth to the other, an anxious habit he’d adopted during war.
give this a like and i’ll send some memes your way!
[ drinks ] sender brings receiver a drink from a bar
his anniversary with june served as a painful reminder of what he’d lost. from the moment blue eyes opened, rick was tormented over what he wasn’t able to save, protect. that wasn’t going to stop him from spending the day doing everything she loved, though. cooking up june’s favorite breakfast, playing her favorite songs, walking the trail she loved with those weeping willow trees. everything leading up to bringing flowers to her grave. that’s when reality hit every goddamn time. she was really gone, and it was ALL his fault.
that night - he wound up in a bar, drowning in his sorrows the best way known to man - alcohol. baseball cap covers eyes, not in the mood to exchange small talk with anyone. that doesn’t seem to keep her away though. the stranger who approaches with a beer in hand. he shouldn’t find comfort in the presence of another woman, but regrettably does. maybe it’s the way she’s not pushing him to talk, or how she genuinely seems to give a shit. “damn, i look that miserable, huh?” releasing a halfhearted chuckle before accepting the bottle and raising it up towards her. “appreciate it.”
PROMPTS FOR PRE ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS AND CREATING HISTORY BETWEEN CHARACTERS * assorted dialogue for giving your characters a history and giving them past things or events to talk about, adjust as necessary
do you remember what i told you last time?
have you been doing well since i saw you?
that's not what you told me back then.
when was the last time i saw you?
you were shorter then.
i'm picking the restaurant this time.
we've known each other since we were children.
always knew i could count on you.
that time was different. this is worse.
you're not going to let me live that down, are you?
i seem to remember a conversation we had back then.
so you changed your mind about it?
do you remember our encounter in paris?
you should know me by now.
am i the only one that knows the truth?
we had a lot of help back then.
your mom told me to look out for you.
you just love bringing that back up to annoy me.
maybe don't mention my past indescretions?
this was never going to work out between us.
i told you not to get attached.
i know more about you than you think.
i was there, remember?
i'm not about to forget all the shit you put me through.
you told me you were going to try and make this work.
remember what i said to you?
the last time i saw you, things were good between us.
you never mentioned this before.
that was the longest flight of my life, and you made it worse.
can i still trust you after all that?
at least we tried to make something work.
we never discussed what happened between us.
okay, but i'm driving the car this time.
i haven't forgotten what you said last week.
i'm still thinking about your comment.
i didn't realize it was you when i first saw you.
you seem to make a lot of enemies around here.
there's not much for us to talk about.
we worked it out last time.
i know you far better than you know yourself.
we have a long history.
is that the shirt you were wearing last time?
what don't i know about you?
i haven't told them about us.
you were the only person i could go to.
you know me.
this is bigger than both of us.
i can't stand your driving.
are you taking me to the place we had dinner last time?
that's not at all what you said.
didn't we agree on that?
i thought i made it very clear where i stand.
are these the same people that came after you last time?
are you still going on about it?
can we talk about it?
staying silent about it won't help.
you're the only person who knows the real me.
this is a bad time to talk about your problems.
[ carry ] after receiver falls asleep in an inconvenient place, sender carries them to a bed and tucks them in (hauntrcss & also reverse ...)
he’d been out with a few buddies from iraq just shootin’ the shit, rehashing old WAR stories. for some it may of been a triggering topic. not for him and his platoon, all sharing a similar - morbid sense of humor.
it was pretty late by the time he got back. not expecting her to wait up for him. though, it’s evident she tried, finding her crashed out on the sofa. amusement finds his mouth in the way lips curve upward at the beautiful woman before him, so placid and snug. careful not to wake her, strong arms gently lift and cradle the woman against his chest, carrying her into the bedroom where she can sleep comfortably, but not before sneaking another look, taking in the way those dark brows remain knit together even in deep slumber. he wonders what she’s dreaming about, hoping it’s something peaceful. though, given helena’s past - he’s not so sure.
