Gentleman (Dark!Rick Flag x Reader)
Pairing(s): Rick Flag x F!Reader
Characters: Rick Flag, Mention of Amanda Waller
Word Count: 1.5k+
Rating/Warning(s): Dark fic warning!!!, stalking, mentions of non-con stuff, female masturbation, voyeurism, language.
A/N: For this request. omg nonnie, rick and stalking. what have you done to me. Title is 100% ironic for obvious reasons.
Anonymous Asked: "Rick Flag prompt: Reader has been getting red flags that she might have a stalker, who leaves invasive letters/gifts for her behind and she’s getting more and more worried about her safety. Who better to confide in than our favorite reliable Colonel?"
It started with minuscule things. Things you wouldn't have noticed otherwise, had they not piled up; Your doormat askew in the hall. Your bathroom door open when you thought you had closed it before you left for work. Your mailbox down in the lobby missing letters you'd been expecting.
And then, one weekday, it's there. Waiting by your door, a bouquet of flowers sat propped for you when you get home. You glanced up and down the hall before picking it up, examining it carefully. There's no note, not even a business card. You tried to think who would have a reason to send you something so nice, but at the back of your mind you felt uneasy.
A ways away, another door opened and shut. And you looked up to see your neighbor Rick on his way out. He's got on his usual, nondescript work garb— A black windbreaker and baseball cap. He slipped past you with a nod, his eyes flitting down to the flowers in your arms. He slowed, arching a brow.
"Not Valentine's Day yet is it?" He joked warmly. You chuckled in return, a little embarrassed to be caught with the bouquet without occasion.
You shook you head. "No, I don't know what they're for actually."
He shrugged. Rick shot you another smile before heading down the hall, and you let yourself into your apartment to set the flowers down. You spent the evening wondering if you should put them in the vase or dump them in the trash. You decided trash the next morning, sweeping them into the bin before dumping it all down the hallway chute.
A week later, you find a note in your mail box. Not a flower kind of gal?
---
Rick opened his front door, looking surprised to see you. You'd knocked with urgency. You didn't want to worry your neighbor, but you did want a little neighborly advice.
"You said you worked in security, right?" You began when he let you into his apartment.
The man nodded, closing the door behind him. "I do."
It was technically true, on occasion. Rick Flag had a few covers over the years. His indefinite assignment with Waller had him sticking to the same one since he moved closer to Belle Reve.
"I was wondering if you had any pointers for..." You stood in his living room, wringing your hands together. A nervous tick, he'd noticed, something you often did waiting for the elevator or for a taxi outside the building. He found it endearing— the way you got caught up in your own head.
You tried to get your thoughts together. Tried not to sound so paranoid. "Well, I wanted to put a camera outside my door, maybe. The manager said it was alright. I just wanted to know if you knew a good kind to install."
Rick pretended to mull it over as he nodded thoughtfully. He poured you a glass of water, and you take it, grateful. "I can set you up with somethin' simple. Plenty of cameras hook up to your phone these days. You can keep an eye on your place while you're at work."
Your face lit up with a appreciative smile. It sends a warm jolt up Rick's spine.
He gets you set up in no time. You watched him kneel to install the camera/sensor in your doorway over the weekend, his fingers working deftly to secure it in place. He also got you a camera for your kitchen, pointing out into the living room and into your bedroom. You thanked him with a batch of fresh blueberry muffins you whipped together as he worked.
Rick took the plate with a smile that makes your heart stutter. You told him he can stop by more often— The two of you didn't have to keep exchanging favors just to chat.
"Yeah?" He said. "Maybe when I get back."
He has to head back to base for another task force mission. He hated leaving you on your own; But he felt better knowing now he could keep an eye on you.
---
The notes stop. And with the cameras, you feel better getting notifications whenever anyone knocked on your door.
You get home one day, exhausted. You make a beeline for the bathroom and rinse the day's sweat and grime off, elated that it was a Friday. As you wash the soap from your body, your touch lingers over your breasts, and you decide that when you get into bed you're going to relax and release the tension you've been feeling all week.
Rick is in his office when you turn your kitchen camera off. He copied the feed from your new equipment to his own phone; He likes to keep it on while he works at his desk, your pattering around your apartment like white noise.
He stops working and glances at his phone. With a few easy clicks, Rick is turning your camera back on, and now he knows why you've shut it off.
You felt odd about having something watching you as you went about your apartment. You always changed in the bathroom, so it had never occurred to you to cover or block the kitchen camera. But today you were on your bed, back pressed into the covers as you worked your hand between your legs. You arched off the bed as you felt the heat in your abdomen build.
You tried not to think about your neighbor as you massaged your fingers in and out of yourself, your slick folds making the slide so, so easy. Rick was polite, kind; The kind of gentleman you'd normally go for, if you wanted to break your cardinal rule about dating in your own apartment complex, that is. You feel a little guilty about imagining him between your thighs— Imagining him working his tongue in and out of you as you writhed on the bed.
Your back arches as you squeeze your eyes shut. You're in just your robe, still naked from your shower. It falls open to expose your breasts to the cool air of your bedroom, and you lift your free hand to palm at your nipple, making yourself gasp.
Fuck.
Rick's eyes are glue to his phone. You're perfectly centered within frame, your body distant from the camera but still visible. He shifts in his chair.
Didn't you have any idea what you do to him? Rick's cock twitches as he watches your legs fall open more. You slowly fuck your fingers into your cunt, your chest heaving— Rick glances at his office door to make sure it's locked. He doesn't move. Doesn't press a hand to his growing length even though the sight of you is driving him wild.
There's no sound on the camera. So Rick takes the liberty of imagining you're saying his name as you near your climax. He'd do anything to hear it in person; He's got half a mind to leave base early and drive back home well over the speed limit right now.
But it doesn't take you long to finish. You press your hand to your clit, feeling the friction as you fuck yourself on your fingers until you're finally pulled taut— You arch until your back is off the bed, your mouth falling open as you come. A soft yelp leaves your lips as you fuck yourself through it as best you can until you're shaking.
You fall back onto the bed in a daze, already wondering what you were going to cook up for dinner.
---
Rick enters the elevator to your building later that night. It's nearly twelve in the morning by the time he's on your floor. He passes your front door, the ring on your camera illuminating when his figure trips the sensor there. He doesn't expect you're still awake; But when you yank your door open, he's pleasantly surprised.
You're still in your robe from earlier, but now you've got a pajama set on underneath, the belt around you pulled closed and tight. He greets you with a tired smile, but when he sees your expression, he stops.
"[Y/n]? You alright?" He asks carefully.
You step into the hall. "Hey Rick, can I talk to you?"
Rick hopes your heart is racing like his is when you let him into your apartment. He stops his eyes from flickering over to your bedroom door, the memory of you laying there prone and euphoric still etched into his mind. He thought about you on the way home— How he would have fucked you two, three more times after that little orgasm you gave yourself just hours ago. You deserved more than a quick little evening. Much more.
You brushed your hair behind your ears worriedly as you paced in front of him. "Somethin' wrong, sweetheart?" He prods. He tests the nickname out, and he likes the way it rolls off his tongue when he's saying it directly to you. He closes the door behind him, careful to lock it without making a sound.
He sees you glance over at him, your cheeks flushing.
"I just um— Sorry, I don't want to sound paranoid or anything. I know you did a good job with the cameras. I was just wondering—" You took a breath, stopping by the counter. "Can someone hack into them? Like, turn them on without me knowing?"
Rick wants to commend you for your attention to detail. —That's why he loved you, wasn't it? How you took action, reached out for his help when you knew something had changed. Deep down, you knew you were being watched and looked after.
You're confused by his little smile, a shadow of a smirk that suddenly sets you on edge.
"The red light on the back. You saw it turn back on." He notes in his calm drawl.
"Yeah, I was reaching for something in the pantry behind it and I— How did you—?" You're cut off when Rick swiftly presses you back against to the edge of the counter, pinning you there with both hands resting on the marble surface. He revels in the way you shiver, how the small puff of your breath lands shakily on his face.
"You don't even know what you do to me, [y/n]." He whispers in your ear. You whimper as you feel the hot press of his lips ghosting the shell there, feel him inhale the scent of your shampooed hair deeply.
You don't even know what you do to me. It was one of the notes left for you. You had dropped the scrap of paper that had slipped itself under your door while you were away at work, horrified. You thought about keeping it— About bunching it up with the other notes as evidence for— For whoever it was that was harassing you like this. You feel your eyes well with tears.
You make another high, alarmed sound when Rick presses his body into yours. You feel the thick girth of him against your pelvis, already hard and waiting for you. Rick finally takes your face in his hands, making you look at him. You see the way his eyes are blown nearly black. His fingers tighten around your chin— He has to hold himself back, take a moment to look at you up close like this.
Rick licks at his lips faintly as he takes in your trembling face. His expression, a mix of adoration and predatory hunger, makes you reel away. He holds you there as he presses a bruising kiss onto your lips—swallows your attempt to cry out.
Rick brushes a thumb over your jawline tenderly. When he pulls away, he's smiling.
"I'm gonna take good care of you, darlin'."