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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 5 years ago

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Daughter of War

Part 2

Summary: It’s been month since she’s been kidnapped. Everyone think she’s gone, everyone moved on. She lost hope of being rescued. Until she’s put in the closet of a certain boat. And a certain assassin happens to be there too.

Requested by anon: Can you do a Mitch Rapp x reader where she is hurleys daughter and she went missing a while back because ghost kidnapped her so when he’s fighting Mitch on the boat she’s in a closet on the boat and mitch takes her with him and she reunites with her dad

Characters: Stan Hurley, Mitch Rapp, Ghost, Reader

Word Count: 2331

A/n: So I finally found the courage to post this fic! (Cause like aways I think it sucks) Yes, it was about time! So this isn’t proofreaded, as always, sorry for any mistakes, and thank you, anon who requested this, and I hope you like it! Feedback are always appreciated!

She was the daughter of a veteran.

It was how everyone remembered her. In the past. No name, no identity of her own. She was just the daughter of a veteran who was no longer there. For months, her disappearance had remained without news. People began to think of the worst. Then she ceased to exist in the eyes of everyone. All considered her dead. End of the story. She was gone. They talked about her like a thing of the past.

She was the daughter of a veteran. But the veteran, meanwhile, never stopped looking for her. To hope to see his daughter again was what made him go through life during all this time. Every day he looked outside by the window, waiting. Every night, he looked at the starry sky hoping that she would find her way back, or the comfort she used to have in looking at the stars with him when she was younger. But the man who was known to never know fear or despair, even when kidnapped, even when he was tortured, was again put into his worst nightmare for the second time. The first being the day of the disappearance of his child. The second, the day Ghost snatched him from his home for revenge. But the bomb in front of him was not the only part of his plan and it was not what made the veteran's blood freeze in his veins, no. It was the words that came out of the mouth of his former student, now enemy.

“So, Stan. How’s your daughter doing- oh. Doesn’t matter. Since...You’ll say hello to her in the afterlife… where I sent her… her screams were particularly enjoyable to hear, I must say.”

Anger boiled his blood. Rage burned his muscles. The hatred was such that Stan didn’t even feel the handcuffs going into his skin as he pulled with all his might on them, staring at the man who had just confessed the murder of his child. No words could describe how he felt. A strong mixture of anger, fear, and sadness.

He had killed her. He had killed his daughter, Y/n.

She was only the daughter of a veteran. A veteran who had many enemies. A veteran who made one mistake.

When Mitch Rapp entered the warehouse where his mentor was locked up, he didn’t find the veteran who didn’t know fear. There, he found a broken man, a man about to give up. The assassin had never seen him in this state. He knew that something more serious than the injuries, burns, cuts and even more serious than his severed finger had happened.

Mitch didn't ask any question, just like he was teached to do. His golden eyes fell on the man in front of him silently. First he tried to untie him and free him of that painful posture he was in. But when Stan pushed him away, saying to follow Ghost, that there was more to it than him, that the bomb absolutely had to be stopped, Mitch froze and plunged his pupils into that of the veteran. There was something else. Something else he wanted Mitch to know, to do, without asking out loud. A blazing hatred, frightening, even, could be easily read in his eyes. That fire meant only one thing.

Kill that bastard.

---

Mitch Rapp was an assassin.

Not in the past tense. He still is. And he probably will be for the rest of his life. When he lost his fiancé, something deep inside of him broke into a thousand pieces. The pieces were lost, scattered, and no matter what he did to pick up the mess, there would always be some missing. It didn't matter who he killed, who he saved, whether his revenge was accomplished or not. He would never be the same again. And in his eyes would always remain that extinguished light, that darkness, a pain that would never really go away. It was this exact pain that Mitch had seen in his mentor's eyes. The pain of mourning, mix with the anger of revenge. He knew the pain, he knew it by heart. Stan couldn't take revenge on his own. There was too much at stake. He trusted Mitch to do it. And that's what Mitch was planning to do.

The battle in the boat was one of the most difficult battles that Mitch had in his life. Not the one against the terrorists, or against other assassins as practice at the barn, no. On this boat going too fast on waves that were too strong, it was impossible to be stable and keep his weapon in his hand for more than a few seconds. In addition, the stress of the bomb that could explode at any moment added even more difficulty. The incessant ticking reminded him of the imminent danger that laid near him.

After many hits. Many insults launched at each other. Cut, punch in the stomach, or fall to the floor due to the strong waves, Mitch got the upper hand. He stuck the knife into Ghost's throat, just like the veteran had shown him during their training. The blade in front of the soft flesh, then, a quick and strong hit on the handle. The blade then entered the throat like a knife into butter. Mitch watched Ghost's face suffocate for a moment from the lack of air, then with the blood going up in his mouth. Killing him how Stan had shown him seemed like a nice way to avenge him, no matter what was the goal of his revenge.

Mitch took the bag containing the bomb and the radio before starting to climb outside when he heard a sound coming from the closet. Not taking a chance, the assassin recovered the knife from Ghost's inert body and advanced cautiously towards the source of the noise. He then quickly opened the door, ready to fight whoever was hidden there. His eyes rested on a figure in the far corner of the closet, so curled up on itself that he couldn't know exactly who it was. Lowering his knife, he crouched down to the height of the person to better see, and what he saw made him froze for a sec. It was a girl, quite young, rope holding her wrists together and tape on her lips to silence her from any scream. She was so scared, even he could sense the pure and intense fear in his bones just by looking at her. Resting the knife on the floor to show her he meant no harm, Mitch removed the tape from her mouth as gently as he could.

"Everything’s fine," Mitch murmured in a low voice that he tried to make as reassuring as possible. But his dirty, wounded face and the blood-covered knife did nothing to reassure the scared girl, even if he wasn’t holding the weapon anymore. Frightened, she looked at him with big, scared eyes, only hoping that her nightmare would end soon. When the assassin took the knife back in his hand and advanced the blade towards her, she was sure it was the end. If the man who had kidnapped her didn't kill her, the one in front of her would do the job. Closing her eyes, the girl placed her hands protectively in front of her face in a desperate attempt to protect herself, like it could possibly save her. A small snap rang in her ears, however. And the next moment, the rope that held her wrists tied fell to her feet. And when she opened her eyes, the man dressed in all black was no longer there.

The girl glanced out of her prison to see if the way was clear. At the same time, the boat made a sudden movement to the left, rolling her out of the wardrobe. Her back hit the wall and she winced in pain as she tried to get to her feet, realizing that the person in charge of the boat had suddenly turned around. And then, that's where she saw it. The blood. All over the floor. But more particularly on a person.

The man who had kidnapped her was lying motionless, except when he was slipping on the floor covered in blood with each wave that hit the boat. And although the sight of a corpse was new to her, that all the blood made her nauseous, the girl only felt hatred towards the dead man. He had held her captive for so long. And she was relieved, happy, even, that he was dead. His eyes wide open stared at the ceiling, frozen in an expression of fear and defeat. Perfect.

Stepping over the body, the girl did the best she could to walk to the stairs that would allow her to climb onto the deck of the boat, where she suspected that the other man, the one who had killed her kidnapper and who was now in control of the boat, was. She lost her balance a couple of times before reaching the staircase. But not once did she turn to look at the body behind her. And not once did she feel pity for him.

She was the daughter of a veteran, after all.

When she climbed on the deck, she immediately saw the man dressed in black that saved her. He had his back turned to her. He was standing behind the wheel and was talking in a walkie talkie with someone. From where she was standing, she couldn’t decipher what they were saying, especially with the strong wind and waves crashing all around. Then she saw the man took a bag and tossed it overboard in the water.

She couldn’t help but wonder who he was. What he was doing here. What was his story. He was so mysterious, enigmatic. She didn't know him, but she knew one thing just by seeing him. And when he turned to her to signal her to come closer, this certainty was confirmed. Everything was in the eyes. He was an assassin.

She felt the wind from the propellers before seeing or even hearing the helicopter. Her hair, soaking in sweat from being locked up for so long, lifted and flew all over her face as she approached the assassin who stuck her close to him without saying anything. A cable descended from the helicopter, cable that the man tied around her waist and his own, making everything quickly very secure. Then he pulled on the rope to signal to those in the helicopter to pull them up. As her feet left the ground, the girl panicked a little. By reflex she held onto the thing closest to her, which was, in this case, the assassin. If it bothered him, he didn't show it and put an arm around her waist to stabilize her against him. And when she looked up to look at him, something in her changed. The fear and stress that she had felt for months, locked up, dragged everywhere by her kidnapper, was no longer there. When she was in the arms of her savior, nothing seemed to be able to reach her. She felt safe, protected, things she didn’t feel since a very long time. And that, even though she knew that the man who saved her was an assassin.

When they were high and close enough to the machine, hands got out of the cabin to grab them. The man lift himself up, making sure she had a grip too, before falling inside, still tied one to another. It was only when she was safely in the helicopter that the girl heard the voice she thought she would never hear again.

“Y/n…?”

Raising her head, Y/n froze, recognizing the face in front of her. Although it was covered with fresh wounds and bruises, he wasn’t hard to recognize. After all, she was used of seeing him always covered in cuts due to his work.

The girl couldn’t say anything. The sob that stuck in her throat prevented her from speaking and even breathing. For long seconds, they only looked at each other without moving, the shock of seeing each other paralyzing them both. Him, because he thought he had lost her only a few hours earlier. And she, because she wasn’t expecting to see him again so quickly, as if all this was only a dream. But once the mist cleared, once she was convinced it was real, she hastened to untied the cable to jump into the arms of the veteran whom she hadn’t seen for too long. Tears of relief ran down her cheeks uncontrollably, even though she thought she cried all the tears in her body from begging her kidnapper to let her go, long ago.

Mitch stood up and sat in the seat opposite his mentor and fastened his belt shut. Then he watched the reunion in front of him for a few seconds, finally understanding why. Why Stan was the way he was when he first met him. How he became the man he is now. And he understood. Understood that his revenge, Ghost's murder, was for her, his daughter. The assassin met the veteran's gaze. And again, they didn't need words to communicate. Mitch would never have thought one day he would read such things in the eyes of the man in front of him. Recognition. Happiness. And above all, peace, a peace of the soul, of the heart, of the mind. He had his daughter back. And although deep down, Mitch was happy for his mentor and the girl, he could only feel one thing, one emotion stronger than all the others.

Envy. Jealousy. A desire, pure and simple, for the one thing he could never have. The return of the person he loved.

"You should buckle up," Mitch muttered loud enough to be heard, looking away. “The bomb is about to explode.”

---

Next part ->

191 notes · View notes

rememberstilinski · 8 years ago

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blue christmas || mitch rapp (smut)

word count: 5,884

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, shower sex, angst

author’s note: and here is mitch! i’m so sorry for posting so late and so off schedule! but i hope this makes up for it! please, let me know what you think, i’m so happy with this now that it is finished, this is all thanks to none other my lauchee! @thelittlestkitsune is such an angel and she saved my life with proofreading this for me! thank you, darling for being so spectacular! anyway, thomas is up tomorrow, and that will probably be posted later tomorrow night!

pairing: mitch rapp x reader

holiday masterlist.

masterlist.

For Y/N, this was a regular night for the past two months. Get home, eat dinner, watch some TV, shower, then go to sleep. It seemed like her life was a record that was broken and only repeated the same thing over and over again.

She sat in front of the TV, having spent her whole day watching the cheesy and ridiculous Christmas movies that the Hallmark channel played from October until December. At this point, she was getting sick of them.

Regularly, she was a woman who still loved the idea of love and who loved being in love. But when the one you love has been gone for months at a time, your take on love slowly begins to shift. Love isn’t always happiness and rainbows or whatever bullshit you’ve been fed your whole life.

It’s something more than that.

Y/N didn’t understand what love really was until she met Mitch Rapp. Without knowing it, he showed her what love really was. He showed her that love was patient and that’s why she was okay with waiting when he was on a mission. It didn’t matter how long he was gone, he could be gone for two days or two months and when he came back, she’d still be waiting.

And that’s where she was right now; waiting. She didn’t know when he’d be back home or if he was ever coming back home, but she held onto the hope that he always was. She prayed to whatever was listening to bring him home safe to her; and he always came back home. He may have had bruises, cuts, or gunshot wounds, but he always came back to her.

With a tired sigh, she pressed the home button on her phone, the screen illuminating her face and showing her the late time. 2:45 am. Since Mitch left, she stayed up late more often than not, not knowing when he’d call because she didn’t know where he was or what time it was for him.

His phone calls were rare, so she slept by the phone, always keeping her ringer on, never turning on the ‘do not disturb’ mode. Every minute she could talk to him was precious. Their conversations were short and simple. He’d always say the same thing:

“I love you, Y/N. I’m safe.”

She would say the same exact thing and afterwards, the line would go dead. No matter how much her heart hurt when they weren’t able to have longer conversations, she didn’t care. She just needed to hear his voice, to know that he was okay and that there was a possibility he was coming home.

By now, her eyelids were heavy and she was exhausted. She sat in the middle of the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table in front of her, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked from her phone back to the television. A blanket that she and Mitch kept in their room was draped across her body, some of it bunched up in her fist as she held it to her face, breathing in the scent that somehow managed to linger on it, no matter how many times she washed it.

She yawned and ran her hand over her face, rubbing her sleepy eyes. She adjusted her body, laying across the couch. Her head laid on one of the throw pillows that matched the sofa next to her phone, turning it up louder just in case Mitch called while she slept. She wrapped herself in the blanket, still holding it close to her nose. Falling asleep, she wished to feel her lover holding her to his chest or to hear his soft snores as they fell asleep together.

The loud ringing in Y/N’s ear startled her from her sleep, causing her to jump up from her position and look around the room, her breathing labored. She realized the sound was coming from right next to her, from her phone. The screen was lit up with an unknown number and she hurried to answer.

She slid her finger across the screen, holding it to her ear. She touched her soft lips, waiting to hear the words that she and Mitch always did before saying anything important. They always said the date they met.

“February 25th.” The familiar deep and raspy voice came from the other line and she exhaled in relief, not realizing she’d been holding her breath.

She felt tears pool in her eyes as she heard Mitch speak. They last spoke two weeks ago and she��d been in agony waiting for the phone call from an unknown caller. She closed her eyes, her breath shaky as she repeated their idiom.

“February 25th.”

“Y/N…” He mumbled. She could practically hear the soft smile in the way he spoke. She felt her heart shake as he said her name so quietly. Oh, how she wished to hear his voice in her ear as she fell asleep. “I love you. I’m safe.”

The woman mouthed a thank you to what she prayed to every night. She realized that the phone didn’t click off right away so she cleared her throat, relaxing in the cushions of the couch, her head on the pillow, the blanket over her shoulders.

“Can you talk?” She asked.

“Yeah, I have a few minutes.” He told her, staying a silent for a moment. “You don’t know how good it is to hear your voice. To hear you speak more than two words.”

“I could say the same thing. You had me worried for a minute there.” She said truthfully. “Do you know when you’ll be home?”

“I don’t. I’m thinking it’ll be soon though.” He explained, the slightest twinge of happiness in his tone, but she failed to notice.

Sighing, Y/N closed her eyes and relished in the sound of his voice even if it wasn’t as crystal clear as she wished. It was better than nothing. “How long is ‘soon’?”

“I’m close to finishing up this mission, that’s all I can say.”

“Well, I’ll leave the Christmas tree up and the presents out until you get home. We

can celebrate then.” She laughed softly, hearing him do the same. The smallest feeling of serenity suddenly sank in, but it wasn’t the kind of peace she felt when holding him after so long. She didn’t feel whole, she didn’t feel like she was in her body.

When he was gone, a piece of her was gone. She wasn’t home unless he was there. It was like she was watching herself from the outside, watching her own life drag along through window as she waited for Mitch to come back home. But when he was back in her arms, her head laying against his chest and listening to his rhythmic heartbeat, everything was better, clearer.

She could see the colors of her world more vividly and she felt calm. She wasn’t living on this constant edge that she was moments away from falling over. That feeling always disappeared the day she and Mitch parted ways.

He hummed happily. “I can’t wait.”

The line was silent for a moment. It was strange but comforting. Whenever she and Mitch spoke and they had time to actually hold a conversation, they had to speak fast, because they never knew when their next conversation would be.

Mitch was the one to speak up. “Speaking of presents, I made some arrangements with Irene and I was able to get you a gift.”

“What is it?” She asked, smirking as she knew that Mitch would not tell her anything.

“It’s a surprise, my love. I can’t tell you that.” He chuckled. “But I can tell you that it will be delivered any minute now.” Almost as if his words triggered it, the doorbell rang. She looked over the couch and to the door next to the coat closet. “Was that the doorbell?”

“Yeah.” She said, throwing off the blanket she had wrapped around her.

“Well, go get it! That’s probably your present.” He told her.

She grinned. “I am, I am.” She rushes over to the door. With one hand she held the phone to her ear, with the other she untwisted the various locks and pulled the chain guard to the side.

Pulling the door open, she looked out into the empty hallway of the apartment building, the door across from her staring back at her. She frowned when she looked down the hallway to see it void of anyone.

“It’s not here.”

“Maybe look at the floor?” He suggested.

She took her boyfriend’s advice and looked at the floor, a folded note on the hardwood flooring. “Hold on, there’s a note.” Holding the cell phone in between her shoulder and her ear, she grabbed the note and unfolded the paper, her eyes reading the words.

Your present has been delivered.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and looked up. Her jaw dropped as she saw who was coming out of the apartment of the old woman across the hall. Mitch gave the small lady a kiss on the forehead, thanking her for her help.

“Anything for young love, my dear.” The woman smiled at the two of them and walked back inside her home.

Mitch looked at Y/N, a heavenly smile curling at his lips. His face was covered in dark scruff, his shaggy hair hidden underneath a Santa hat, his body wrapped in a blue coat she’d seen him wear many times during the cold months in Rhode Island.

“I’m your Christmas present.” He whispered, looking at the girl still kneeling on the floor. She felt tears pool in her eyes as she dropped the phone to the ground and jumped up into Mitch’s arms.

He caught her without hesitation, dropping his bag as her long legs wrapped around his waist. Her ankles locked together, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she nuzzled her face into his neck. He held onto her tightly, his own arms circled around her waist. He leaned his head against hers, closing his eyes as he finally felt at home.

He didn’t understand that being in love meant home went from a place to a person until he met her. Mitch was a man with few happy stories, he was dark and cold all because he always lost the people he loved. Though, Y/N was this ray of light that helped him live again and now all his happy stories are of her. Love is being able to bring someone back to life and that’s exactly what she did for him.

Y/N sniffled, warm tears rolling down her cheeks as she held onto the man she loved, planning on never let go again. Mitch shushed her, soothing her of her cries.

“I’m home, baby. I’m home and I’m not leaving for a long time.” He sighed, turning his face slightly to kiss the side of her head.

She lifted her face from his neck, looking at him with glossy eyes. “How long?”

“Four months at least.” He smiled. Y/N sighed in relief, her forehead falling against his as she just received the best gifts she could ever been given. He kissed her nose, closing his eyes as his cold lips touched her skin.

Still holding her, Mitch walked into the apartment as he kicked his duffel bag inside. He closed the door with his foot and walked her over to the back of the couch, setting her on it. She laid her head against his chest, listening to the smooth heartbeat she was wishing to hear just earlier that night.

“Where were you?”

Mitch ran his fingers through her long and tangled hair, smoothing out the knots she’d created while sleeping. “Moscow. It was fucking cold.”

She chuckled and looked up at him, her chin resting against his toned chest. He had a cut above his eye, in his eyebrow; the side of his eye was bruised. She lifted her hand and grazed the tips of her fingers over the purple mark next to his eye. He winced slightly at her touch, but relaxed soon after.

“I wanna unwrap my present.” She looked into his warm eyes. He nodded and pressed his lips against hers gently. Her eyes closed, her lashes tickling his defined cheekbones. He held her cheek with his large palm, his other hand on her hip.

She grabbed the zipper of his coat and pulled it down, pushing it off his shoulders. Mitch hoisted her up around him, her legs circling around him once again to hold on. She clung to him as he held her up by her ass, walking to the bathroom connected to their bedroom.

He pushed the door of the bathroom open, using his hand to turn on the light switch. She trailed her hands to his hair, pulling off the Santa hat he was wearing. Her fingers combed through the dark, silky locks as Mitch groaned, his lips parting and allowing her to slip her tongue against his.

They shared a french kiss as he set her on the cold countertop, a gasp falling from her as the cold surface touched her bare legs. Mitch smiled into the kiss, happy to be able to hear the sounds he missed so dearly over the past two months once again.

She pulled away and smiled up at him. “I love you.” Y/N whispered. The words weren’t needed because he already knew. He knew that she loved him in the way she looked at him like he was the most important person in the world. He knew by the way she kissed him like he was air and she suffocating. He knew by the way she held him when he was near. Words were never necessary.

Mitch looked down into her breathtaking colored eyes. “I love you.” He spoke with everything he was. The words he said to her coming from the darkest depths of his very soul and heart.

She smiled as he returned the three words. She held onto his hips, lifting the black sweater off his body, throwing it onto the floor. She noticed he hissed in pain as he lifted his arms. Seeing her confused expression, he nodded down to his side.

Her eyes moved to where he gestured to and saw the long cut right underneath his left pectoral. Her face fell as she looked at the scar that was covered in dried blood. “Mitch… are you-”

He immediately saw the worry and the anxiety that began to build up within her. Cupping her face, he shook his head. “I’m alright. It’s just sore. It’s a fresh one.”

“How long ago?”

“Right before I disposed of everything and got out of the country.”

She sighed, nodding in understanding. She reached out to touch it, her finger hovering over the injury as she looked at him for approval. Mitch nodded, her skin against his doing wonder to soothe him of any pain that had been in his muscles or on his bruises.

“Let's shower and afterwards I’ll clean it for you?” She asked, biting her lip subconsciously. He agreed, walking to the shower to pull the curtain and turn it on to a pleasant temperature. He walked back over to her and wrapped his fingers around her sweatshirt, pulling it over her head and dropping it to the floor.

Mitch didn’t realize earlier that she wasn’t wearing a bra, so he was pleasantly surprised to see her bare chest in front of him. Her nipples were hard as the cold air hit her sensitive buds.

Everything about her was beautiful. She had few moles on her collarbone and her sides, but she didn’t have as many as he did. Most of the marks on her body were soft freckles that he liked to call ‘angel kisses’. They were so small that they always reminded of an angel’s kiss, so that’s what he’d call them when talking to her.

He’d seen her naked many times in the years they’d spent together, but it was different in this moment. There was love for sure, there always had been, but right now he never wanted to let her go. He wanted to keep her around forever and make her his wife and that scared him more than it should’ve.

The last time he proposed, his fiancée died less than ten minutes later. He knew it wasn’t likely she was going to be killed like Katrina was, but was he feared most was Y/N leaving. It didn't matter if it was her own free will or she taken from him, it terrified him to think that he could lose the woman he loved so easily.

Mitch put his hand over her heart, feeling the steady beat underneath his palm. “What are you doing?” She asked, her eyes looking over every detail of his face.

“Making sure you’re real.” He said quietly, almost afraid that if he spoke to loud he’d scare her away. “I’ve dreamt about touching you and being with you so many nights these months I’ve been gone that I don’t know if you’re real anymore.”

She hooked her fingers underneath his chin, lifting his head so he’d look at her. “I’m real.” She licked her lips and wrapped her small fingers his hand, moving it to set over her breast. He squeezed the mound on her chest, a mewl sounding from her as she stared at him.

He pressed his lips to her chest, kissing each softly colored freckle on her soft skin. Her small hands went to his back, fingers pressing against his back muscles. He hooked his digits in the waistband of her shorts and panties, pulling them down her legs.

Y/N dragged her hands to his sides, her fingers dipping against his defined v-line. She rounded her hands to the buckle of his belt, undoing it and pushing his jeans down to the floor. He stepped out of them and pulled her closer.

He pulled her lip between his teeth, tugging playfully. She giggled and felt him smile. He hummed happily. “Let’s go warm up. I’m still freezing.”

He let her jump off the counter and walk over to the shower. She pulled open the curtain and allowed him to walk in before she did simply so she could look at his muscular ass.

“Hey, I can feel your eyes on me, baby.” He chuckled.

“That sounds like your problem.” She said, stepping into the porcelain tub and under the water. The warm water cascaded over her as she tilted her head back. She sighed as the soothing pressure of the shower head hit her back. The knots of anxiety she had tangled up in her body because of Mitch being gone loosened significantly. It was like a heavy weight lifted off her chest and she could finally breathe.

Mitch’s arms wrapped around her waist as he pressed against her, his lips on her neck. She opened her eyes and saw the familiar colors of his eyes. He smiled softly at her as her arms hooked underneath his arms and held onto his shoulders. Her bare chest pressed against his, her lips pressing sweet kisses against the gunshot scar he had on his shoulder from when Katrina died.

“You smell really bad.” She mumbled, a loud laugh rumbling in his chest at her bluntness. He pulled away and stared down at her as she smirked. “Can I wash your body?”

“I’ll let you wash my body if I can wash yours.” Mitch negotiated.

She scoffed. “You make it sound like that’d be torture.”

“Depends on where I touch you, doesn’t it?” He smirked, grabbing the bottle of body wash while his partner grabbed one of the loofahs. He opened the bottle, pouring the soap onto the loofah and scrubbing over her shoulders and trailed down to her perky breasts. He covered her right one with his left hand, holding onto it firmly. The quiet sigh she let out didn’t go unnoticed by him.

He began washing her sides and trailed down to her hips, bending to press kisses against her skin. The eucalyptus mint scented soap getting on his lips as he touched her, but he didn’t care. She held onto the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his dark, wet hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp. He kissed across her stomach and to her other hip bone, sucking a purple patch onto her flesh. He stood back up, still caressing his lips over her torso and eventually to the valley between of her breasts.

“Mitch.” She sighed, lifting his head so he’d look at her. Her eyes were dark with need as she looked into his own beautifully colored irises. “Kiss me.” He obliged and held onto the side of her neck, tilting her head up to lean down and kiss her with every ounce of passion and love he had for her.

He kissed her with such intensity, it made her knees weak and her heart pound in her chest. Walking her back into the wall, he pressed her against the tiles, his mouth working at her warm skin. Her head rolled back against the tile, his hands going to her side and smoothing down to her hips. He bent down, his cock sliding through her folds.

His cock was pressed between their stomachs as the water cascaded over their bodies, steam going over the walls of the shower and drifting into their bedroom through the open door. Rubbing himself against her, he felt her arousal seep from her core and onto his bare cock.

“Can I?” He asked, his words breathy as he looked up at her. No matter how heated the situation was or how far into anything sexual they were doing, he always asked if it was okay for him to do anything to her before continuing. Y/N loved how much he respected her and it’s not like she would ever deny him what he wanted.

She nodded, giving Mitch a clear sign of her approval. He grabbed his hardened member, pumping his member for a few moments to prepare himself. Once he was ready, he rubbed his tip at her clit, her body jerking as the touch in her bundle of nerves.

Mitch smirked, dragging the head of his dick down to her soaking entrance. He slowly pushed into her, careful not to hurt her by shoving himself into her tight pussy, knowing she’d been left without more than her fingers inside of her in the months he was gone.

He stayed still inside of her, groaning at her tight environment. His head fell to her shoulder; she felt much better around him than he would ever been able to dream or substitute with his hand without her. When the nights were lonely and sleepless, he’d think of thrusting slowly into Y/N as they made love or holding her right after while they were in the after haze, his head laying on her back because they both laid on their stomachs while sleeping.

She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, her digits tugging at his hair while his thick girth and long cock stretched her out. Her head rolled back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut at the small pain in her lower half. Mitch placed the gentlest kisses to her collarbone, wanting to go slow the whole night so he could savor the way she felt and the way she looked.

He was always an outstanding lover. Sometimes he would fuck her into the mattress, leaving dark bruises on her soft skin. She’d leave him with deep scratches, one that she was sure had the ability to scar. Other times, he was gentle and dragged out their time together. He admired every single detail of her body, no matter what it was. He kissed the white scar she had on the side of her thigh from accidentally cutting herself with a razor while shaving; he caressed the skin on her breasts above her nipples, tearing circles in that same spot.

The nights he was slow were the ones that left the deepest burns within her body. She had such a passion for him, one that burned brightly. The only way she could describe their love was fire. She’d always believed fire was such a beautiful thing. It was warm and exciting to be around. She always had the best experiences around fire. When she was younger, she love going camping with her family, she enjoyed spending time in the boat on the water or cliff jumping because she was such a free soul, she always lived life to the fullest.

The nights she’d go back to the family camping spot, there would be a large fire that her father had built and learned to maintain throughout the night. Whenever she’d sit around it in a sweatshirt and leggings, she would look at the air above the fire. It made what she was looking at through the orange and yellow flames blurry, the images distorted. It was beautiful, the way the objects across the fire would move in ways she knew they couldn’t.

Even though she loved the fire, she knew how scary it was. She knew how dangerous it was. As mentioned earlier, the string desire Y/N felt for him was like a fire. Where there is desire, there’s going to be a flame. Where there is a flame, someone’s bound to get burned. That was her biggest fear. She was terrified that the hot flames she compared to her love for Mitch would touch her and leave her with an aching burn that would leave the intense stinging feeling forever.

He was in such a dangerous field of work and every time he walked out that door to go get milk from the grocery store or go to jiu jitsu, she didn’t know if he was coming back. She constantly lived on edge, constantly afraid that he would be ripped away from her, but it was worth it for that fire like feeling she got with him.

With a pleasurable sigh, she gripped at the pale flesh of his mole covered back, wanting him to move, the pain having subsided and now all she felt was need. Her skin was burning, the water hot and the heat radiating from Mitch even warmer. She tapped at his back. “I’m ready.”

He took a deep breath and moved out of her. His lips pulled into a tight line as he tried to hold back his obnoxiously loud groan. The sound vibrated at his lips as he looked to her. He started by pulling out slowly, then pushing back in with force. Every time he pulled from her, he inched out further and further, shoving himself back in at a faster pace.

Moments later, he was moving in and out of her, the feeling amazing and making the contentment sky rocket. He bent his knees, his hands moving to her sides and up to hook underneath her armpits, holding onto her as he thrusted up inside of her. Her hands were all over his shoulders and his shoulder blades.

With one hand, she held onto his hair as she kissed her lips, but broke the kiss to breathe. She hooked her arm around his neck, her arms moving down as he pushed inside of her at the deepest angle he could. She moaned constantly into his ear, his hair slicked back as she combed through the locks with her fingers.

She tilted his face back towards hers, looking into his eyes while their noses nuzzled against each other. She held onto the sides of his face, leaning into to kiss him, but he pulled back, teasing her. Their bare chests rubbing against each other, her hard nipples poking at his pectoral muscles.

“Mitch, please. Don’t tease me.” She whimpered. “I need this, I need you to kiss me.”

“I want to look at you. I want this view painted in my head until I grow old.” He said smoothly, his mouth parted as he panted. His hands, which were hooked underneath her armpits, slid up, lifting her arms as he dipped his head down to suck kisses into her neck.

He grabbed her hands in his large ones, holding them against the tiled shower wall. Her eyes fluttered close, his member pushing into her and his hip bone rubbing at her clit. She held onto the shelf in the corner of the shower, her other hand on Mitch’s shoulder.

That warm feeling built up in her stomach as she neared they both neared their highs. Her head tilted back, eyes closing once again as Mitch lifted her legs up off the floor and around his waist. She gasped loudly, the sound echoing in the small space they were in. He thrusted info her, having direct access to her g-spot. Each time he touched it, the feeling set off in her like a bomb of pleasure.

“Oh my god.” Y/N shook in her lover’s hold, her grip on the shelf loosening slightly. “D-Don’t stop. Please, just don’t stop.”

The assassin shook his head, the need to reach his climax running through his veins and making his heart beat faster against her chest. His back muscles rippled as he did all the work bounced her up and down on his member. The sore muscles he had before forgotten for now, but would later feel even worse, but it was totally worth it.

He found her lips, meeting her for an open mouthed kiss. He held her close to his body, their chests pressed together fully, her breasts flush against him as they moved together. She slid her tongue into his mouth, their lips puckered. He tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss.

As their tongues met each other, it made them burst. The nerve endings in their tongue feeling the most pleasant sensation at the mere graze they shared. The kiss was slow and laced with pure love.

The sudden feeling of a coil snapping in her abdomen hit her like a truck going full speed. She pulled away from the kiss, moaning out loudly into the bathroom walls. Mitch watched her face scrunch up slightly as she came, the water droplets sliding down her face.

He followed not long after, cumming inside of her as he usually did because she had a very convenient IUD implanted before they even got together. Bareback was better anyway as she liked to say.

After settling down, he set her on the ground, her legs shaking underneath her body. He held her up, seeing how she was about to collapse in the porcelain tub. She leaned against him, her arms pressed between their chests as the water coming down on them started to get cooler. Mitch held her tight, his breathing labored from their physical activity.

“I’ll clean you up and then we’ll go to bed.” He whispered in her ear, feeling her nod.

He grabbed the loofah from the floor and put more soap on it, realizing that cleaning her before wasn’t much good because they only got dirtier. He was careful with touching her in the spots he was well aware she liked to be touched. After cleaning her, he washed the blood and dirt off his own body, feeling much cleaner than he had since leaving Moscow.

He turned off the water and opened the door, lifting Y/N bridal style and carrying her into the bedroom. Once he set her on the edge of the bed, he grabbed two towels from the linen closet, giving one to her to dry her off and using the other to dry his own body.

When they were done, he threw the towels into a hamper, watching her scoot further up the bed, laying her head on Mitch’s pillow. He chuckled, smiling at the sight of his tired companion. She was still naked, her arms scrunched up underneath the pillow as she faced the other side of the bed that was usually her side.

“You’re laying on my pillow.” He told her, crawling up the bed to lay next to her on his stomach. He curled his own arms under the pillow, his face right in front of hers. He watched her tired face, seeing her eyes close as he laid next to her.

“Deal with it.” She huffed, making the corner of Mitch’s lips turn up in a soft grin.

He stayed silent after that, watching her as she slowly drifted into a peaceful sleep. The bags underneath her eyes were evidence that she hadn’t been sleeping very well and he felt bad because he knew it was his fault. He knew that once Y/N got used to sleeping with someone, she couldn’t sleep without them. He could only imagine her nights were as sleepless as his.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispered, leaning in to peck her nose softly. He wasn’t expecting her to respond because he figured she was asleep, but he must’ve been wrong because she spoke soon after he did.

“I love you, too, Mitch.” She opened her eyes, looking completely exhausted. Mitch glanced at the clock behind her on the nightstand, the time reading 5:00 am. “You know, I didn’t know if you were coming back home this time. I was really scared.” She mumbled.

His eyebrows scrunched up, his fingers pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. Just everyone you leave, I get scared you won’t come back. Even when you go to get the mail, Mitch. I count the seconds every time you leave. I watch the clock. I didn’t want to lose you around Christmas.”

He shook his head, whispering softly. “Hey, I’m never leaving you. I’m always going to come back home.”

The tears began to pool in her eyes, her lips quivering as she told him everything she’d never admitted out loud before. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because you are my home, Y/N, and I will always come back home.”

She sniffled, licking her lips of the salty tears. “Promise me. Promise me you will always come back to me.”

He grabbed her hand from under the pillow she was laying on, hooking his finger with hers. He kissed his thumb, sealing the promise with a kiss. “I promise to forever come back to you.”

Y/N watched him as he made their solid deal. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his, their hands pressed to her collarbone. She laid her head on the same pillow he had his head on. He wrapped his arm around her, her face nuzzled against his.

As they fell asleep, their fingers were still hooked together. Y/N held onto the promise they made that night like it was the most precious jewel. She carried with caution as did Mitch. He kept up his end of the deal until the day they died together peacefully in their bed.

He even kept it after that. He always came back.

what’d you think? let me know!

wanna be tagged in the rest of smutmas?

Tags:

@nocturnalzeal @lovefilledtragedy @sourshawn @obrienskhakis @lovelydob @fuckwhateverfuck @padmeisgay

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starlightandfairies · 4 years ago

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Party Time ~Stuart Twombly~

Description: Team Lyle returns to the strip club, with a new member of the group, who just so happens to be a friend of Neha, but has met every enough to establish friendships and feelings.

Warnings: Low self esteem, female pronouns, pervert men, drinking, fluff, swearing

Word Count: 1,063

Key: Y/N = your name, Y/E/C = your eye colour

Recently, Y/N had been hanging out with us a lot and to be honest, I was so happy that Neha brought her into the group. I learnt that Y/N wasn't someone that was comfortable with how she looked and the only time when she didn't come out with us, was when we were at the club. But today, Neha had managed to drag her along, literally dragged her to us.

Y/N glared at her friend, then turned to the rest of us and smiled slightly, hugging herself and walked inside with the rest of us.

"Neha, why am I here?" I heard her mumble, leaning in to whisper to her friend.

"Because, you need to get over your image of yourself and have fun!"

"At a strip club?" I chuckled lightly, hearing the tone in her voice and watched Neha walk off.

"It's not that simple to get over, crappy feelings." She mumbled, shaking her head and looked at me, giving a gentle smile.

"Hey." I smiled, rocking back and forth on my feet.

"Hi." she smiled back, still hugging herself.

"Do you want anything to drink?" I asked, gesturing to the bar. She nodded, smiling softly, I took her hand and pushed past everyone in the sea of people. Not letting her go, so she wouldn't get lost between everyone.

"Stuart, no beanie today?" She called out, with a cheeky grin. For whatever reason, I placed a hand on my head, feeling my hair and grimaced embarrassed. She giggled and placed her hands on the counter, I stood next to her and raised my hand, signalling the bartender over.

"What do you want?" I asked her, smiling as I could see the thought on her face and waited for an answer.

"Could I have a raspberry Vodka Cruiser please?" I nodded asking for what she wanted as well as a beer for myself, paid and then handed her the drink.

"How much was that?" She questioned, sipping on the drink reached into her pocket to get some cash out.

"Nothing, it's on me." She hesitated, waited for a few moments before placing the money away and followed me to our spot. She sat down, sipping on the drink and still look uncomfortable in her skin.

The others were off dancing so, it was just myself and Y/N in the little nook.

"Stuart, go have some fun, get turned on by some girl here. I'm not much of a dancer." She took a sip on her drink, waving me away with a gentle smile.

"No." I stated, shaking my head and pulled her up. I placed my beer down, then waited for her to finish her sip before placing the bottle down.

"How about I finish my drink, then dance?" I huffed but nodded and handed her drink back.

"Thank you." She sat back down on the couch, I sighed and picked up my bottle, walked off and danced around with the others. My eyes kept drifting on her and Neha started to notice.

"Stuart, Y/N isn't really a party person. Not all, she'll join when she wants." I sighed, nodding and stopped watching her and continued to dance.

Y/N's POV I had finished my drink and decided to get another, I squeezed past everyone, walked up to the bar with a smile.

"Could I have a raspberry Vodka Cruiser?" I asked the bar tender, holding out my money. He nodded, handed me the bottle and started tending to other customers.

"What's a young thing like you doing here?" I turned around seeing a man, maybe a year of two older than me and looked like trouble.

"Just here with some friends." I stated, nervously biting my lip.

"You wanna ditch them, go to my place."

"I'm sorry, I'm not looking for a one night stand." I mumbled, pushing past him and squeaked as the man grabbed my hand.

"Come on babe, just a little fun."

"Please, I'm not looking for anything." I struggled trying to get out of his grip.

"I don't care how you look, as long as the sex is good. You not pretty anyway." I started panic, struggled to get out of his grip and whimpered quietly as he forced me to come closer. Grinding himself against.

Stuart's POV

I walked back to where Y/N was last sitting, only to see she wasn't there. I began searching for her worry setting in. I looked around for her, searching past everyone and looked towards the bar, seeing if she was waiting there. I heard her voice muffled in with the crappy club music and turned around, seeing a guy holding her and Y/N trying to get out.

"Hey, there you are! I was looking all over for you." I smiled at her, watching the guy release her from his hold. She ran to my side, tears welling up in her eyes as she hid behind me.

"Yeah, just fuck off. I don't need you, there's a lot of hotter chicks here. Don't know what you see in this bitch." I did everything in my power not to lash out at him and just led Y/N outside, I took my jacket off, placing it over her shoulders and brought her into my chest, hugging her tightly.

"He's right you know, I'm not pretty, he said I'm not pretty and he's right."

"No, he's nowhere close to being right. You're gorgeous and you have a heart of gold, these things you think are flaws, aren't. You shouldn't have to care what those assholes think of you, you have so many stunningly beautiful flaws that make my heart flutter." She sniffled, looking up at me with her Y/E/C coloured eyes.

"You really mean that?" She quietly asked.

"Of course I do, you're the prettiest girl in that room, in this whole world." She blushed and rubbed her tears away, looking at me hopefully.

"Can I kiss you?" I quietly asked, leaning in slowly.

"Yes." She whispered, connecting our lips together with a soft, gentle kiss.

"That. Was. Perfect." Y/N whispered, looking flustered and hugged me. "Could I take you out one day?" I questioned, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"I'd like that very, thank you." I sent a wink her way, rubbing her arms and grinning at her happily.

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the-cookie-of-doom · 5 years ago

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He tries to return the smile but it’s difficult when Mitch is chained up as well, his hands bound overhead. He’s barely balancing on the balls of his feet; every breath is a struggle, suspended as he is. He has to pull himself up to breathe, barely able to get a grip on the thick, smooth chain.

Stiles can see that Mitch is losing strength. The cuffs are wearing his wrists raw, and there will come a point when he can’t pull himself up any more. Stiles’ breathe hitches just thinking about it. What if they’re going to die here?

“I’m…” Stiles works his tongue, trying to moisten his dry mouth. It’s been hours and they’re alone and he doesn’t know what’s going to happen to them, but it won’t be anything good. “I’m scared, Mitch,” he says, his voice hoarse and no louder than a whisper.

“I know.” God, he knows, and he hates the feeling of helplessness. “We’re getting out of this,” Mitch promises fiercely. Stiles nods, but Mitch knows he doesn’t believe him. He barely believes himself.

#cookie writes #stiles stilinski #mitch rapp #stitch #also a completely separate fic #i feel like i could make a oneshot out of this one??#there was never really any plot

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perlocutionary · 8 years ago

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Christmas Miracle, pt. 1 - Dylan O’Brien

Description: When money falls short, Dylan will do anything to get Y/N to not spend the holidays by herself. Relationship: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Title: Consider this your lucky day Word count: 1905

A/N: I had hoped to get into the Christmas spirit by writing a three-shot-Christmas-centered Dylan. Sadly, didn’t work. But hey, at least I wrote! Happy holidays everyone.

PART 2

So I saw this post of @mf-despair-queen and @minhosmeanhoe about Holi-Dyl’s week and even though I was planning on posting this (three-part) Dylan shot, I’ve added the tag/them it’s such a nice idea!! There should be a little more love in the world and even though I’m fairly new, from what I’ve seen of this family, it’s something I’d gladly be a part of. Happy reading!

“Thank you. Happy holidays!” I smile at the young couple as I collect their check and a not-so-generous tip, my smile immediately faltering as soon as I hear the bell chime, indicating their departure. A sigh leaves my lips, my hand roughly running along my face as I walk back up to the register. I see the pitiful look my coworker throws me, but I try to ignore it to my best abilities as I hear the door bell chime through the small café once more.

“I need a damn Christmas miracle over here.” I sigh, dropping my pen onto the countertop as I lean against it, tilting my head back and staring up at the plentiful sparkling lights that decorate the bar. “Well then, consider this your lucky day.” His voice is raspy but playful, and even before I turn around I know the smirk that graces his lips.

My head whips around and I smile at my best friend, his upper body leaning against the counter as he grins brightly in my direction. I skip over to him, throwing my arms around his neck and hauling his face against my chest, chuckling when a loud grunt of protest leaves his lips. “Dylan! What are you doing here?”

I let go of him and he drops back into his bar seat, lifting his Mets cap off his head and running his fingers through his unruly mess of hair. I slide a freshly tapped beer his way, his eyes twinkling underneath the low Christmas lights above his head as he nods at me as a silent thank you. “Got off work early, thought I’d come in and check on my lovely lady friend.”

A snort leaves me before I can think twice, wiping my hands on a nearby towel, my eyes never leaving Dylan. I had met the culprit somewhere in the middle of the Teen Wolf days when he, as dorky as he can get, ran me over and send me reeling into a puddle of water, drenching me from head to toe.

It was the beginning of a friendship I never knew that I had missed as long as I had lived, although I would never change any of the course of events. Dylan turned out to be one of my best friends, my confidant, sort of like an older brother, and worst of all – my crush. I would never act upon any feeling that would crawl onto my skin whenever Dylan was near, mainly for the reason of not wanting to jeopardize this friendship.

And it didn’t matter. I wasn’t miserable hiding these feelings from him – au contraire. I somehow was glad that I could keep this one little secret from him – because anything else would be on the table as soon as Dylan would squint at me.

I shake my head as I drop the towel again, licking along my lipstick-clad lips as I roll my eyes. “And why are you really here?”

A groan leaves Dylan’s lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, before he lifts his beer to his lips to take a generous sip. His tongue drags along his bottom lips, collecting the foam that had collected there. My eyes snap from his pink lips to his eyes when I hear his voice again. “Can’t I be a gentleman?”

I shrug my shoulders, suppressing the grin that wants to break through as Dylan’s pout. “You probably can. Just not to me. Hey!” I exclaim loudly when his large hand swats in my direction and I’m just quick enough to avoid getting smacked across the chest by Dylan.

I walk around the counter, ready to clean the mess the young couple had left right before Dylan walked in, my fingers coursing through my unruly locks of hair. I had cursed myself on multiple occasions not bringing a hair tie. I only had a few hours left of my shift but during the lunch rush hour, I got sweaty and now I am awfully aware about the way my hair stick in every possible direction because of my sweaty hands and nervous habits.

Just as I pass Dylan, cleaning cloth in hand, his hand around my wrist stops me from walking past him, his unoccupied hand holding out a hair tie toward me. “You look great.” My heart warms as soon as the words leave his lips, my cheeks heating up to a rosy pink as I press my lips together. My eyes meet his whiskey-colored ones and I take a moment to mesmerize how more beautiful all these fairy lights make him.

“Seriously, are you here to tell me you ran over my dog? Because it’s starting to feel like it.” I wriggle my wrist in his embrace, his fingertips gliding along my skin to grasp my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. Sparks shoot up my arm, along my spine and I shiver visibly, casting my gaze from his to our hands. I’m pulled out of my own head again though when Dylan speaks up once again.

“You don’t even own a dog! And can’t you take a compliment when given? Damn girl.” I take a step closer to him, his hand falling limply against mine, but I still rest it there. My other hand comes up and fixes the hemline of his navy-blue shirt, smiling up at him as my thigh bumps against his knee.

“Well then, you don’t look to shabby yourself. But you already knew that. I have a thing for you, uh, looking like that!” My hand waves over his outfit, both our gazes following the movement as a chuckle passes my best friend. Dylan looked sharp in whatever he decided to wear or what wardrobe would put him in, but my favorite would always be this. Sweatpants, a simple shirt and his Mets cap. It screamed that he was at ease with whatever he was doing, and I couldn’t contain the butterflies that swerved in my stomach whenever I saw him smile at me.

“Maybe that’s why I do it.” He wiggles his eyebrows as his lips curl into a bright smile and I can’t help but chuckle while shaking my head. “Such a tease.” “Now, seriously, why I’m here…” Dylan starts off as he drops my hand from his larger one, my eyes widening as I slap his thick thigh, the loud smack resonating through the otherwise empty café. “I knew it! What’s up?”

His hand covers mine again and force me to keep them resting on his thighs, my upper body leaning closer to him as I wait for him to speak. Involuntarily, my grip tightens, and I feel his pants shift underneath my hands from the pressure, his own hands, covering mine, rubbing gently to calm my aching nerves.

“Tpose wants to celebrate New Year’s together. I was coming around to see if you’d be up for it.” A sigh of relief leaves my lips and I almost want to smack the stupid grin off Dylan’s face, but refrain myself the last moment. Tyler Posey was Dylan’s best friend and he was hilarious, but I had a feeling he knew how I felt toward Dylan. “Of course. I like Tyler, you know that.”

“Maybe you had other plans and didn’t want to celebrate the New Year with a bunch of dorks.” His hands leave mine and I take a step back, shaking my head as I swat the dampened cloth at his chest. “I would be honored to celebrate it with my dorks, Dyl.” I emphasize my words by patting his jaw a few times, turning away and starting to clean the table in the back.

It’s quiet for a few minutes before Dylan speaks again. “I have to go, though. Am I still seeing you tomorrow?” I hum as an affirmative answer, sliding the dirty dishes in the lift to take them to the kitchen, turning back on my heel toward the register. I don’t look at him as I take his bill, but as soon as I want to put it away my eyes widen in shock.

“Dylan, your drink is $4. Are you really trying to pay me with a hundred bill?” I slap the green paper back onto the counter, glare set in his direction with the littlest shakes of my head. Dylan immediately pouts at me, sliding the note back toward me. “Can’t I tip you?”

My eyes widen as I forcefully shove the hundred-dollar bill back towards him. It wasn’t the first time he was trying to hand me money – although this time he at least tried to be subtler about it. “Hell, no. Are you insane? You are not paying for my flight home, Dyl. I cannot stress this enough.” I sigh the end of my sentence, squeezing my eyes closed as my fingers pinch the bridge of my nose at my upcoming headache. As soon as I had mentioned I was taking extra shifts in hopes of paying for a flight back around the holidays, Dylan had been pestering me.

If he wasn’t trying to persuade me in letting him buy me said plane ticket home, he was trying to convince me to give up my flat and move in with him – to save some money. Although having a continuous sleepover with Dylan sounds like a lot of fun, I needed my space and me-time, and having to consort back to a roommate was something I would never consider doing.

I thought he had given up, but apparently Dylan still had some tricks up his sleeve. “Then, …” he starts off, nervously scratching the scruff that covers his jaw and chin, while averting his gaze from mine, “come with me.” I cock an eyebrow in his direction, pursing my lips as my fingernails create a rhythm along the counter with my own nervous tapping. “Celebrate Christmas with me.”

I contemplate my words, racking my brain to let him down as sweetly as possible without him nagging at me for this until the end of the week. I loved Dylan’s family and I wanted to believe it was reciprocated, but crashing a Christmas party wasn’t the same as coming over for the weekend because of a birthday of sorts. The fear of being unwelcome was a bit too fierce.

“Don’t even try.” Dylan warns me, his finger accusingly pointing in my direction. “I won’t let you stay here alone and wallow in your self-pity. This – This isn’t even a question, it’s a demand. You’re coming with me. I leave on Saturday, and you better have packed a bag for a few days, Y/N.” A small smile crawls onto my lips as I avert his fierce gaze, fumbling with my fingertips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.” He leans over, dropping a five-dollar bill in front of me and pressing his lips firmly against my cheek, his nose squishing at the impact. Without a second thought, my hand lifts and I cup his jaw, eyelids fluttering as he already retracts. “’Morrow, Dyl.”

I watch him skip out of the bar and wave at me through the frost-tinted glass, disappearing from sight and down the sidewalk. I take a deep breath, shaking my head and almost scream when I see my coworker standing behind me. “That seems like you’ve gotten your Christmas miracle, Y/N.”

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xoxokiaraaxoxo · 3 years ago

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REQUESTS

Hey loves! I wanted to start a blog cause I enjoy reading the works of others. I wanna take requests from those who would like to submit any. The people I will write for are listed below, if there is someone different you would like me to write for, put it in the request! I don't have many rules, but if I don't feel comfortable with a request I will not write it. Please give me some time if you do request something I will definitely try to get it done asap. I don't mind writing smut but I am definitely not the best at it. If you have any requests you can submit them in the request link on my account! Thank you so much!

rules:

-please be respectful

-please be specific in the details of your request

i will write:

-scenarios

-headcanons

-oneshots

-fluff, angst, suggestive content, smut

people i will write for:

-dylan o'brien (stiles stilinksi, mitch rapp, thomas)

-sebastian stan (bucky barnes)

-calum hood

-jack harlow

-chris evans (steve rogers, andy barber, ransom drysdale, ari levison)

-tom holland (peter parker, cherry, arvin)

-angus cloud (fezco)

-jacob elordi (nate jacobs)

-timothee chalamet

-dominic fike (elliot)

-drew starkey

-matthew gray gubler (spencer reid)

-vinnie hacker

-jensen ackles (dean winchester)

-sam winchester

-urban wyatt

-max fried

-ben rice

-anthony volpe

-aaron judge

-joe burrow

-chris sturniolo

-matt sturniolo

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wittystiles · 6 years ago

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The Bluff || Part 16 || Mitch Rapp

Author: wittystiles

Word Count: 2k+

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Warnings: Cursing (last time i’ll use this one fuckin’ expect cursing tbh)

Authors Note: Well fuck me, it’s back. After taking sixteen months off and deciding this story was dead seven times, I’m Goddamn back. And so is this hot-steaming pile of dog shit known as The Bluff. I hope to Goddamn hell y’all like it. If you don’t - well - shove it. Feedback is THE MOST IMPORTANT okay, thank you! (-: I love y’all, thanks for chillin’ with me. Read this if you will. Thanks. ((also thank you to my lovely @ellie-bee242 for never giving up on this fic!))

Irene stared at Stan, face expressionless. If anything, she looked tired. She leaned back in her chair and brought her hands together underneath her chest, head resting against the plush leather backing. “She’s moving in with him?” She repeated in a questioning tone.

“Yes,” Stan said in a sigh. “What part of that was unclear? I said exactly what you just repeated, without the inflection you had, but same meaning nonetheless. She’s moving in with him. He’s going to live with her. They’re going to share a place. Their addresses will be the same. They’re cohabiting. I am running out of ways to rephrase this.”

Irene rolled her eyes, “when will their union take place?”

“I don’t know their moving schedule. And ‘union’, come on Irene, no one talks like that.”

Ignoring the latter part of his response, Irene continued. “Could you find out?”

“No.”

Her dark eyes narrowed at the older man and contemplated the various ways that she could attempt to kill him with the pen sitting on her desk. She knew most would be thwarted the moment she tried them, however, and decided against any actual action. “So, while you had some information, you’re actually nearly entirely useless to me?”

“I wouldn’t call myself useless, ever.”

She shrugged, “do you have any idea where the two of them will be staying?”

“Together,” Stan answered immediately. “That is what cohabiting means, after all.”

“You’re fired,” she blurted without thought. “I’ll figure out how to get this shit done without you. Mitch can have a new mentor, if that’s what you are at this point, Stan.” She stood from her desk then, grabbing a file off of it’s edge fast enough to knock over a cup of pens that was stationed near it. “You have given me enough headaches for a lifetime.”

Stan stared at her in confusion, eyes trained on her face. “What?” He asked, finally processing her little blow up. “Knock it off,” he finally decided, reaching out to snatch the folder from her hands. She made no efforts to stop him, her breathing becoming long and deep. He didn’t think she’d gotten as angry as she had, but was clearly wrong, as he watched her calm herself down. “What is this?”

He opened the folder, thumbing through the contents with little interest, eyes darting quickly over each page. “You’re sending him out?” Stan wondered, looking up from the pages in his hand to the woman who was now busying herself tidying up her pens. “You know he’s not going to go.”

“He knows he won’t have a choice.”

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing the folder. “Irene, give him some more time.”

“He’s had over a month.”

“Let me remind you,” he leaned forward, holding the folder loosely between his legs, elbows resting on his knees. “He thought he was on assignment that entire month. (Y/N) was supposed to be his mission. He invested all of that time on her because he thought that’s what this big dumb organization was having him do. He even went and got those arms dealers, and his ass kicked, while in France. Give the kid some time with his new girlfriend.”

The chuckle that left Irene’s throat startled Stan, made him sit up straight again in his chair. She slowly made her way around her desk, taking her seat in her chair without another sound. When she made eye contact with Stan he leaned back, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side in calculation of her. “She isn’t his girlfriend,” she finally said in a cool and even tone. “She is his handler. And when the time comes, I will remove her from his life. Is that understood? Don’t make this something that it isn’t Stanley. Don’t give some deeper meaning to the two of them. Mitch is a pain-in-my-ass agent who thinks he writes the rules, and (Y/N) is there to rein him in. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She held no emotion behind her words. She could have been filling him in on the weather for the week in the same tone she used to remind him that they were manipulating Mitch’s life like he was a puppet on their string. He swallowed hard, suppressing the guilt that was gnawing at him like heartburn. “Irene,” Stan tried, using a voice he’d take with his own children. “Don’t be so cold. The kid’s falling for her.”

“Which was the plan,” she nodded her head like she was proud of herself. Another hard swallow from Stan. “Didn’t you so sinisterly say that he was going to? We wanted this remember? We dealt this hand for him at the beginning of the game. Sure, we didn’t think he’d play into it so well, but hell, Stan. This whole charade couldn’t be going better for us if we wanted it to.” She smiled then, “lest you forget that everything that we’ve done, every little move we’ve orchestrated? They’ve all been your ideas. You know how to play Mitch like an instrument and he’s really performing beautifully for you. You should have some pride.”

“Yeah,” he nodded his agreement, unsure what else to say to the woman before him.

“Now stop with this nonsense, and go give him that file. Lets see how having (Y/N) around affects the way he handles another task. We saw that he was quick to finish the one in Paris to rush back to her. I wonder if the same will hold true now that they’re cohabitating.”

Stan stood from the chair, deciding not to share parting words with Irene. He checked the file a final time while walking out of the office, headed for the elevator.

Mitch turned the corner to his apartment building sharply, seeing the older brick building come into view as his phone began singing loudly in the cupholder at his side. He blindly reached for it, answering it without hesitation as he pulled into the residential parking garage that wound underneath. “Going underground, I’m going to lose you.” He told the person on the other end of the phone, hanging it up without giving its signal a chance to be lost. He shoved the device into his pocket and searched around for a moment for a parking spot, stealing the one nearest the elevator. The older man that usually parked there was out of town visiting someone or doing something for the month, and he’d be damned if he let another one of the tenants get that spot.

He killed the engine, pocketed his keys, and got out slamming the door behind him with a metal clang. The noise echoed off the walls of the garage and for a moment he remembered being in France and finding a car to steal. He wondered if the owner had ever recovered it. He’d been so kind as to leave it relatively undamaged at the mouth of a tunnel near the river. He figured if junkies or the homeless hadn’t absolutely dismantled it, the owner could probably still even use it. Baring they didn’t mind it missing at least the windshield, to Mitch’s fault.

He walked the few steps to the elevator and jabbed impatiently at the button, waiting for it to light up. “Broke yesterday,” he heard a voice from his side say and he reached around his back reflexively for his gun. “Stairs are working though.”

A brunette woman was approaching him, carrying two overfilled brown grocery bags in her arms. “Leasing office said they’d send someone down within the week to take a look at it. Wouldn’t hold my breath though.” The woman made to pass Mitch and he processed her as a non-threat.

“That so?” He wondered, motioning towards the bags in her arms. “Let me help you,” he offered. She eyed him for a quick second before handing a bag over, wrapping both of her arms around the one she still held. “Mitch,” he introduced, opening the door to the stairs with his foot. She gave him a smile as he let her head through the door first.

She started up, her footfalls heavy on each of the metal stairs. “I’m Fiona,” she called over her shoulder as he followed her. “Moved in about a year ago. Met damn near every neighbor in this place, ‘cept you I guess. You new?”

“Lived here four years.”

She chuckled, continuing up. “You’ve lived here four years and this is the first we’re seeing of each other? What, you a recluse or somethin’?”

“Or somethin’.”

He heard her chuckle over the sound of her repositioning her arms around the bag. “Not much of a talker?”

His shoulders shrugged before he’d even processed the action, slowing his speed on the stairs to keep a relatively normal distance between her and himself. He wished absently that he’d not offered to help her, he could already be in his apartment by now. He needed to shower in a desperate way, and needed to still head out to the store to get something for (Y/N) to eat.

He frowned a little at the thought of her, of how she was so eager to thank him for cleaning. How small she had looked to him every time he’d peaked in to check on her. He wondered if she’d look that small in his place, too. If she’d still have the same soft light around her that she had in France and in her own apartment. Wondered if perhaps he couldn’t do her immediate harm after all.

“Earth to Mitch,” Fiona called with a laugh. “Boy, you really must be somethin’ else, gettin’ lost like that. You okay?”

He nodded, “tired.”

“You work the graveyard or somethin’? That's why you’re just gettin’ home at what -” she thought for a second. “Must be just after nine in the morning.”

Mitch waited until they reached the landing at the top of the stairs to acknowledge her question with furrowed brows. “I was out, doesn’t matter. I’m tired now though.” He handed her her grocery bag, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Have a good morning, Fiona. It was nice meeting you.”

He pushed open the door to the lobby of the apartment building and made a hasty retreat as she called a “yeah, you too” from behind him. He took the stairs up to the top floor two and three at a time, striding quickly for his apartment door. He withdrew his keys as he rounded a corner, freezing dead in his tracks.

His eyes narrowed and his jaw set, fist clenching tightly around the keys. He closed the distance between himself and his apartment door, not further acknowledging the man leaning against the wall beside it. He let himself in and made to shut the door behind him, being thwarted by a boot wedged against the door jam.

“Now,” said the owner of the boot, pushing on the door until Mitch relented and opened it. “Is that any way to greet me?”

“This is my home, Stan.” Mitch sounded defeated. “You’re not supposed to just show up here. Remember? We’d agreed on that.”

Stan laughed mockingly, shutting and bolting Mitchs’ door behind himself once inside the apartment. “No. You told me not to show up here, and I chose to ignore that. There was no agreement ever reached.”

Mitch stopped himself from rolling his eyes as he crossed the living room to his couch where he sat down heavily, busying himself with unlacing his own boots. “Why are you here?”

“Came to give you this,” he dropped a folder down onto the counter in the kitchen, opening the fridge to look through its contents. “Jesus, it’s more barren in there than Irene.” Stan joked, shutting the fridge after. “You don’t even have a beer?”

“I don’t drink much,” Mitch supplied, tossing his shoes to the side. “As much as I don’t appreciate unannounced visits, I have to get showered. So. If you wouldn’t mind seeing yourself out, I’ll look at whatever that is when I get a chance.”

Stan shook his head, leaning back against the counter. “You’ll look at it now, Mitch.”

There was a moment where Mitch contemplated not even acknowledging Stan. His bathroom was feet away and he could easily make it there before Stan could stop him. His foot twitched a little, ready for him to move. He rose to his feet, his brain willing him to head for the bathroom, but his body made its way to the kitchen where he picked up the folder. “What is this?”

“Christ, can’t you read?”

Mitch glared down at the pages, figuring it better than glaring at Stan, and read over everything carefully. “Spain?”

“Yes.”

“In two days?”

“Yes, fuck. It says all of this shit in black and white right there, Mitch. Why do you keep fuckin’ asking me?”

“No thanks,” Mitch decided, tossing the folder to the counter.

Stan boomed a laugh, picked the folder up, and smacked Mitch with it on the side of the head. “You don’t have a fuckin’ choice in this, runt.”

Mitch’s jaw clenched, his eyes trained on the pages of the folder, his chest rising and falling with strain. He didn’t want to leave yet. Didn’t want a mission this soon. He had things to do, things to take care of. He had other pressing matters that needed tending to before anything for Stan and Irene. He closed the folder with the loud sound of pages slamming and tossed it to the counter. “I’ll be ready to ship out then.”

I’m not kidding. Feedback would be fuckin’ sick, thanks y’all. I love you. Hope you enjoyed this!

Tags: @ellie-bee242 , @cathobs , @redstringlovers , @lovefilledtragedy , @sumcp, @teamwolf2411, @confidentrose, @daddyxraeken, @iloveteenwolf24-blog, @kalista-rankins, @stilinski-stydia-obrien, @rumoured-whispers, @omgimafuckingmermaid, @cuillere, @dylan-void, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @fuckwhateverfuck, @maxytwombly, @itsamberh, @haveyoumetmeyet, @kal-pal, @infinitstydia, @thenovarose, @anamcg317, @terriblewife, @thelonesoul, @rebeccaannex3, @behind-my-hazeleyes27, @girlwiththerubyslippers, @x-mitch-rapp-x, @mainlymieczyslawstilinski, @veronicarapp, @kaylinfayezink, @a–1–1–3, @rxppmxtch, @lietomeat3am, @xxxxdelenaxxxx, @mentalc0re, @gendryia, @ashotofblues, @dancingalone21, @16wiishes, @a--1--1--3, @assholeofthanos, @gothcryptid-gf, @yuslut,

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harringtonstilinski · 3 years ago

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yabmh readers;

alright, so here’s the deal.

for those that followed me for yabmh; thank you. from the bottom of my heart, thank you. thank you for following, thank you for liking, thank you for reblogging, commenting and letting me know what you thought in my ask.

i’ve been trying to get back on my game with posting it, and i think i’ve done a fairly good job since having my son.

with that being said, i’m gonna pause uploads for it for this week. it’s the last episode in S5, and then we’ve got ten more weeks of posting S6 and then we’re done.

i’ve switched fandoms to stranger things for a moment and those one shots & blurbs seem to be doing a lot better than my teen wolf series right now. i know teen wolf isn’t in demand right now, but i’m still gonna post the series.

i’m gonna take a little break with writing a series for a little bit and just focus on writing blurbs and oneshots for stranger things until i’m ready to start my next rewrite series, always the babysitter.

as for my mitch rapp mini series, i’m gonna take a break with it because i’m not sure where to stop pt4 at.

i really y’all understand and don’t unfollow because i’ve got some fun stuff planned... and by stuff i of course mean writing pieces.

once yabmh officially ends, i’m gonna make another post pouring my heart out to y’all more.

#stilinskiparker #you'll always be my hero #yabmh #stiles stilinski #teen wolf rewrite #teen wolf

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rememberstilinski · 8 years ago

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femme fatale || mitch rapp (smut)

word count: 9,666

warnings: smut, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex, daddy kink, angst, mentions of death, betrayal

author’s note: my first mitch rapp anything really! i hope you guys enjoy this because i’m so genuinely in love with this fic! special thank you to @were-cheetah-stiles who helped me with this and gave me so much support! she’s on vacation right now, so she is unable to read it. anyway, enjoy!

pairing: mitch rapp / reader

masterlist

coming soon

Pulling the chair from underneath the table, Y/N set the last box of ammunition on the wooden surface next to the various handguns spread across the table as she sat down. She pushed her hair back behind her ear and sighed, ejecting the magazine from the gun by pressing the button on the side of the hand grip. She inserted the ammunition into the magazine, filling it back up before reinserting it briskly, hearing a clicking noise, which indicated that the magazine was locked in place.

She continued her actions, awaiting to hear the news on her next assignment from Irene Kennedy who was the director of the Counter-terrorism center at the CIA. Y/N had been recruited four years ago as a potential agent, only being twenty one years old. When Irene heard of the young woman and what happened to her as a teenager, she immediately took an interest.

At the age of thirteen, Y/N had lost the perfect all-American family she was part of. Her mother would stay home and take care of Y/N and her sister, taking them to sports while her husband went to work and came home at six o’clock every weeknight. Then during the weekends, the family would go out and spend the day together. One night, after a Christmas party, the family arrived home late, unknowing of the people hiding throughout their home. As soon as the family got home, the intruders had no hesitation in killing the family. Y/N had been the only survivor because they'd thought she died when her sister did.

When the police arrived the next morning, the scene was messy. Blood was spattered on the walls and the carpets. Drops of the crimson liquid were still rolling down the picture frames when the police arrived. The teenage girl was curled in a ball in the corner, covered in blood, bruises littered across her arms because the grip of the men had been so forceful. She was quiet when the police found her and took her to the station after she'd overheard that the men were a group involved in terrorism.

Not having any other family to stay with, she was thrown into foster care, going through home after home until she turned eighteen. Throughout the years, she'd learned how to fight and protect herself. When she looked at the house she grew up in the day her family was found, she made a promise to herself: never again would she want to a family to suffer the way she watched hers suffer. So she was going to find the men and stop them, no matter how long it took. Being without a family or anyone to love made it easy to stay on the road she set for herself. After all, all she had was time.

The simultaneous ringing and buzzing of the cell phone on the table next to her took her attention from the gun she'd been loading. The contact showing on the screen was Irene so she immediately answered. She held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Y/L/N.” Irene greeted. “Your assignment begins tomorrow morning at your hotel when your partner arrives.”

“Partner?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, setting the gun on the table. “Irene, it's been four years and I've never once had a partner. I work better alone. I don't need some dumbass slowing me down. This assignment is too important to me, you know that.” She gritted through her teeth.

She could hear the director sigh through the phone and practically see that she was pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “I know, but trust me on this one. This new recruit is good, Y/N. He's been training for months.”

“Training for months doesn't mean anything.” The woman pulled the phone from her ear and set it on the table before putting it on speaker and finishing loading the guns.

“He's off the charts good. He might be what the department needs to be even better.”

Y/N scoffed. “I'm off the charts good.”

“And when I see how good he is, I think of you. I've only ever seen such focus and skill when I recruited you.”

Chewing her lip, Y/N began to think of just how good he might be. “Fine, but if he screws this up, Irene…” She trailed off.

“He won't. He'll be there at nine am sharp, be ready.” And with that, the line was dead. Y/N looked at her phone as the call screen switched to her wallpaper. She inhaled sharply when she saw the picture. A year and a half later and the picture still broke her heart. It still made her gut twist and her stomach feel like a pit. It felt like a slow, big fat nothing in her chest when she thought of what she did. The grief she felt came in waves. Just when she thought the void in her chest could be filled back up, the familiar sound of their laughs and the smiles they shared came back. And the wound still felt open.

It was said earlier that Y/N had nobody to love and that made her job easier. She didn't have to worry about explaining herself or her motives. For nine years, she was alone. She focused solely on her plan and there was no one who could derail her. That remained true until she met a man. An amazing man who she unexpectedly fell in love with. He was the only person she ever learned to love after what happened to her family.

That man was named Mitch.

Mitch Rapp.

He was the perfect guy. Everything about him was perfect. He may not have had the best life growing up, but neither did Y/N, not that she'd ever told him about what happened to her. In spite of everything, he was amazing. He was always so happy and high on life. He loved her fiercely and endlessly. He was everything she never knew she wanted. She was so set on what she wanted in life because she only wanted revenge. No, she wanted retribution. Revenge is sloppy and wild, whereas retribution is carefully planned and morally right.

Either way, it didn't matter if what she'd been planning for nearly a decade was revenge or retribution. What she did to Mitch was still terrible and unforgivable. Y/N had been with Mitch for three years and she fell in love with him. It didn't take long to happen. It was inevitably going to happen, it just occurred sooner than expected. The worst thing she'd ever done went back to that day at the beach. Somehow it was the worst and best day of her life.

Giggling, Y/N splashed in the water as the tall man with honey eyes followed behind her. She looked out at the distance, seeing the sun water never stopped at a mountain like a lake did. The water just went on and on, far away from where she was. Within hours, she would be far away just like the water. The large smile she wore on her flawless faded away as her heart ached the second she remembered what today was, what she was going to have to do. She was leaving for good and she was going to break her lover’s heart in the process.

Y/N had convinced Mitch to come on this vacation. This was where her tracking had led her. The men who killed her family had grown even more dangerous over the years and they were a big problem with the CIA. She'd been following their tracks and this is where the next big attack they were responsible for would be. The beach her and Mitch were standing on. Just as Y/N had been following the group, they'd been following her. They didn't like how close she was to figuring out their ultimate goal. Now that she was here, they could eliminate the problem. They planned to kill her and finish the job from all those years ago.

Knowing that they were keeping very close tabs on her, Y/N had set up a deal with the CIA. She would leave and fake her death so that these men were off her tail and then she would eventually take the terrorists out for good. The only consequence that came along with her plan was leaving Mitch. She was going to leave him in the worse way possible. Make him think she'd died.

She crossed her arms over her chest and tears pooled in her eyes. Her lungs felt tight and restricted from obtaining oxygen. “You know you look amazing in that swimming suit.” Mitch's husky voice rang through her ears along with the mumbled voices of the people who were around the couple. “I don't think I can't get over it. You, my love, are absolutely stunning.”

“Oh, Mitch. You're such a gentleman.” The smile tugged at her lips as she turned around to see that Mitch was filming her with his cellphone. “You can say it, you know? You can call me sexy. I mean, being called beautiful is really amazing, but sometimes a woman wants to hear more.”

Mitch smirked at his girl, his tongue peeking out to moisten his lips. “Well, you are very sexy. I can't wait to tear that bikini off of you when we get back to the hotel. Mm, the things I'll do to you.” His eyes shamelessly ran up and down her body. She rolled her eyes playfully as Mitch grinned.

“Whatever.” She laughed, turning around so he could see her backside. “Get my better side if you're gonna record me.” She joked.

“I was. Baby, turn back around.” She heard her boyfriend mumble behind her. When she did, he was holding up a green string, a ring tied onto it. A big, shiny ring.

Y/N took a deep breath, looking from Mitch to the ring and then back to Mitch. “Mitch, what are you doing?” He kept the camera on her as he walked over to her slowly.

“I'm not really good with words, so I don't know exactly what to say in most situations. Whenever I'm with you, I don't have to think much about what I want to say, it just kinda comes out. I just say why I feel and it comes out so right. It comes out better when I don't think about it compared to spending days thinking about what I'm going to say.” He smiled, the string with the ring was being held in the air. “So that's what I'm doing right now. I'm just going to come out and say it. Y/N, I met you three years ago and the moment I laid eyes on you, my heart whispered, ‘That's her. She the one,’ but I didn't hear it right away. It was repeated over and over and over again until one day I was watching you dance around the kitchen in your underwear and a t-shirt and my heart screamed that phrase. That day, I realized I want to keep you around for the rest of my life. I want to love you endlessly.”

Y/N smiled at his words, eyes filling with happy tears as she completely forgot why she was on this beach in the first place. “Y/N, I love you so much.” He grinned, walking towards his girlfriend until he was standing right in front of her. Their faces were only inches apart and even though he wasn't touching her, she could feel the familiar warmth that his body radiated. Then he whispered the four words she'd never thought she'd be asked. “Will you marry me?”

“Ask me again?” She cupped his face, smiling up at him.

He looked into her beautiful eyes. “Will you marry me?”

She wasn't sure why, but before she could stop herself, she nodded her head before leaning up to kiss Mitch passionately. Her thumbs rubbed his cheekbones, their tongues sliding over each other as they kissed one another deeply. When she pulled away, he gave her the ring and allowed her to slide it on her finger. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he looked at the camera and gave her a kiss on the cheek, smiling bigger than he ever had before.

“Mitch?” She looked up at him. “You know that I love you, right? That you're my infinity? The only man I could ever love.”

He nodded. “Of course I do. You're my infinity and the only woman I could ever love. Why are you saying this?”

“Because I feel like I don't tell you enough how much you mean to me. I don't tell you enough how much I love you. I just, I want you to know that you're my home. No matter where I am or what happens, you'll always be my home. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed her lips, all of his love in the single gesture. He pulled away and held her close in a hug after stopping the recording on his phone. She rested her chin on his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his neck. He planted soft pecks on her skin. In that moment, she just wished time would slow down. That it would stop so she could spend the rest of her life with him. She wanted him more than anything.

The memory faded out of her head, scratching like a record player. She closed her eyes and felt a tear fall down her cheek. That was the last time she heard him say those words. It was the last time he kissed her. It'd been a year and a half and she could still feel his lips against hers. She could still feel his arms around her when he found her bloody body. The wounds causing her blood to spill were very minor, but when Mitch checked for her pulse, it was gone. Part of Y/N’s CIA training was learning how to stop her pulse so that's what she did. That's when he realized that his beloved Y/N was gone.

To this day, she could still hear the heartbreaking sobs that the love of her life released. She could hear him asking for her to come back, for her to come back and marry him like she said she would. Her heart shattered into millions of pieces when he said one thing.

“I've lost everyone, I can't lose you, too.”

Those words still haunted her dreams and her everyday life. He still tormented her. His soothing voice, his gentle touch, his loving kisses, his tight embraces, his beautiful eyes. It was all still a part of her. She should've changed the picture of her and Mitch on her lockscreen a long time ago, but it was all she had left of him. She only had the pictures and the memories that inhabited her complex mind. The moment she tries to erase the pictures is the moment she truly loses him and there was no way she was letting that happen.

Biting her lip, Y/N wondered how he was doing in this exact moment. She wondered if he was staring at the television watching an old Mets game, where he was, who he was talking to. She wondered if his appearance changed, if he changed after her death. She just wanted to know what he was doing in that exact moment and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him.

Mitch knocked on the door of Stan Hurley’s office, waiting for permission to enter the room before turning the copper knob and walking in. “You wanted to see me, sir?” He closed the door behind him to see that Stan was sitting at his desk, typing on his laptop.

“I did.” The mentor nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to figure out a way to say what he wanted to say. “Rapp, why are you here? I know that something shitty happened to you, but why are you here?”

“To gain the skills necessary for killing Mansour, sir.”

Raising an eyebrow, Stan looked at the laptop screen briefly before looking back to his apprentice. “Why do you care about Mansour? There's bigger problems in the world. Worst people that you could have your eye on. Why him?”

Mitch sighed before answering. “I want to avenge Y/N. She was my, my fiancée and he killed her.” He answered the question, but he choked up as he stated what she was to him. The word didn't seem to be an accurate description of what she was to him. In all honesty, she was more than just a fiancée to him. She was best friend, his lover, his soulmate.

She was his person.

Stan sighed. Mitch could've said anything else and it would've been the right answer, but he said the wrong thing. The older man stood up from his seat. “That kind of mentality is what gets men in your shoes killed, Rapp. It's never supposed to be personal for someone like you.”

“Well, it's the reason I'm here. I'm different and it's because of what I want to do. I'm special, sir.” Mitch said.

“Special?” Stan scoffed out a laugh. “You think you're special?” He turned the laptop around so that Mitch could see what's on the screen. His amber eyes trailed down and he immediately inhaled sharply. His bottom lip quivered and his eyes watered. He visibly gulped as he watched the video. It was the part of the video where he asked Y/N to turn around to face him and he began his proposal. He watched her face contort in awe as she listened to him speak to her.

He remembered this moment like it had just happened. He'd gone over the memory so many times. It was why most of his nights were sleepless. Well, that and the fact that his bed was cold and empty. Before Y/N died, he'd slept next to her warm body for almost three years, so it was quite the change for her to be gone.

The video had been playing long enough for her to kiss him. Oh, the things he'd do to feel her luscious, pink lips against his again. He would bend and break for the opportunity to hold her again and keep her safe because he could do that now.

Mitch looked up from the screen and scowled at his tutor. “Never, ever let it get personal.” Stan instructed him.

Before Mitch could tell Stan off about what he'd just been told, he felt his phone ring in his pocket. The annoying rings were his savior. If he'd said what he wanted to say, there was a for sure chance to be kicked off the Farm. Mitch saw the contact was Irene and he answered right away, wiping away his tears.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Ms. Kennedy?”

“Mitch, would you say you’re ready for a mission?” The woman on the phone asked.

Mitch furrowed his eyebrows. “Wait, what? Ms. Kennedy, I'm honored, but would Mr. Hurley be okay with that?”

“I've already spoken with him. He was reluctant, but I convinced him that you could do this assignment.” Irene said. Mitch looked to Stan, silently asking if what she'd told him what serious. Stan only nodded in response. “Although, you will have a partner.”

“Uh, okay. What should I know about both my partner and the mission?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

“For starters, you should she's a woman. She is known internationally as ‘Femme Fatale’ because of her seductive and alluring ways. When she's undercover, she plays the innocent temptress, but as soon as she’s given instruction, she becomes fatal. Lethal. She's one of our best agents. She's our youngest female agent, but she's spectacular. If you can learn from someone other than Hurley, it's her.”

As Mitch listened to the qualities of his partner, he was thoroughly impressed. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Wow, okay. What about the mission? What do we have to do?”

“Actually, Mitch. This is an amazing opportunity for you.” Irene told him. “This is Mansour and his men. Femme Fatale has been tracking them down for years and she knows them better than anyone else in the CIA. You two will be posing as a married couple in the firearm business. Mansour is looking to buy and he is hosting a party to see who can impress him the most. We will provide high-end firearms that he will for sure be interested in buying and that will be your opportunity to take the group out. So what do you say, are you in?”

Nodding, Mitch accepted, but then remembered Irene couldn't see him. “Of course. When do I leave?”

“Early tomorrow morning. Your partner is already at the hotel where you two will be staying, she's expecting you tomorrow morning at nine am.”

“Thank you, Ms. Kennedy.”

“You're welcome, Mitch.”

Mitch perked up, having a question. “Wait, what is her-” Before he could ask his question, she hung up. “name.” He sighed before turning off the phone and shoving it into his pocket.

He looked to Stan. “Well, you better start packing. You have an early day tomorrow.” The older man gestured towards the door. “You're dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” Mitch nodded and walked towards the door.

“Rapp?” Stan called his apprentice’s name. Mitch turned, raising an eyebrow in response. “Remember what I said. Don't ever let it get personal. Especially not with this mission, you could get yourself killed.”

Mitch licked his lips. “Yes, sir.” His eyes moved to the laptop screen, Y/N’s picture frozen. Her lips were puckered as she blew him a kiss. He sighed and walked out the door, going to pack his things.

It was close to eight am and Y/N had already been up for a couple hours. After showering and making herself coffee, she sat next to the window, using a pair of binoculars to monitor the traffic coming in and out of the warehouse that Mansour and his men were rumored to be staying until the party the next day. The sound of her stomach rumbling in hunger, made her realize she hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday. More often than not, she got distracted by her job and she wouldn't eat until she felt the painful rumbles in her tummy. Even when she was with Mitch, she'd get so busy and he'd make her a sandwich and tell her to eat. Oh, those were the simpler times.

Since her partner would be arriving soon, she just decided to wait and then she could make a breakfast run after he got here so that he could keep watch while she was gone. Y/N took a sip of her coffee before disposing the rest of it in the bathroom sink. The soft padding of footsteps on the floor outside the hotel door made her ears perk up. They were heavy and sounded like a man’s footsteps. Looking at the watch on her wrist, she saw that it was seven fifty. Much too early for her partner to arrive.

In the many years of training she had, she learned various ways to keep herself safe from an unplanned attack, even if it was only potential. She was taught to fend for herself. She grabbed one of the loaded guns out of her duffle bag and walked to the wall behind the door. The sound of someone digging in their pockets sounded from behind the wooden opening, the weapon in her hand. She slowed her breathing and quieted it down so she couldn't possibly be heard.

The alert that the door was opened with a key sounded before the door clicked open and someone stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Y/N had been right. The person behind the door was a man. She got a brief look at him. Not at his face, but everything else. He was tall and lean, but muscular. He had shaggy brown hair that was a mess on his head. The strap of his duffle bag rested on his shoulder.

Y/N slowly walked up behind him, but the mystery man easily caught on. He quickly dropped the bag onto the ground and threw his arm back to hit the face of whoever was behind him, but his opponent was much more skilled than he was. She grabbed his hand, ignoring the familiar feeling she got when touching him and twisted his arm in a way that would ultimately flip his whole body. She got down and straddled the man and pinned his to the ground.

“You gotta be quicker than that if you want to beat me.” She chuckled, a smile on her face. Her long hair blocked her sight, so she threw her head back, her silky locks moving out of her face and falling around her shoulders. She looked down and the beautiful amber eyes of the man she'd just taken down, they burned into hers.

She recognized those eyes. She could never forget those eyes.

“Mitch.” She mumbled.

“Y/N.” His face paled as if he'd just seen a ghost and his jaw slacked open in shock. The air in his lungs had disappeared. “Y-You're alive.” The woman got off of him, backing up and allowing him to stand up. His whole body trembled as he stared into the eyes of the woman he loved. His nose burning as tears formed in his eyes and threatened to spill. He stepped back a few steps, his body hitting the wall as he looked at her.

To say he was in disbelief would be an understatement. The only word that came close to describing what he felt, was astonished and that was still an understatement. He had to have been dreaming. This had to have all been a dream. She couldn't really be alive. He remembered not feeling a pulse or her heartbeat, not hearing her breathing. He remembered standing at her funeral with a couple friends and his brother because she didn't have any family and her very few friends were originally his friends. He was all alone after she died, but there she was. Standing less than six feet away from him, in person. She was breathing, blinking, moving. She was alive.

As Y/N watched him watch her, she looked at how much he changed. The dark, messy hair she missed running her fingers through when he came from a long day and rested his head in her lap, eventually falling asleep to her soothing voice and soft touches, had grown longer. The scruff on his face made him look mature and kind of intimidating. His arms were bigger, his biceps more defined, his veins were more prominent than before. To anyone else, he looked cold and emotionless, but Y/N knew him so well. She could see that his eyes were lighter in color, meaning that he was either unbelievably happy or unbelievably sad. From the absence of his beautiful, heartwarming smile, she knew it was the ladder.

A few more moments of deafening silence passed before Mitch broke it. “Femme Fatale?” He muttered, voice breaking as the words fell from his mouth. He cleared his throat and shook his head as he wiped the clammy feeling of his hands onto his jeans.

“How do you know about that? How did you find me?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows. She noticed that he wouldn't look her in the eyes. He looked everywhere else, but her.

Mitch sighed shakily. “I didn’t know you were alive. Y-You’re my partner.”

Y/N crossed her arm over her chest, looking Mitch up and own. She was hoping to find a sign that he was lying to her about knowing she was alive. If he was lying that he didn’t know, that might somehow lessen the blow to him. But there was no signs. He was telling the truth. “I’m your partner. Mitch, are you part of the CIA?” Her eyes widened.

He looked up at her, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. “I’m a trainee for the Orion team.” The hostile change in his tone took Y/N back. His words were rolled in venom and wrapped in barbed wire. The way he spoke to her hurt. His whole attitude had changed as he finally looked at her and what she did to him finally completely registered in his brain. He walked past her, towards the window that was being used to keep eyes on the warehouse across the street, his shoulder hitting hers as he did. She slowly turned towards him, watching him grab the binoculars off the table and move the curtain to the side so he could get a better look outside.

“Why are you so early?” She turned towards him.

“I wanted to get to know my partner. Guess I know her better than I thought.” He muttered, raw anger in his voice.

She’d never seen him like this. She’d never seen him cold and angry, especially not towards her. When they were together, he was always happy and he always wore a smile on his face. Even when he was sleeping, a smile would ghost on his lips, but a year and a half later and he was completely different. He changed and she knew that she was the one that did that to him. If he changed for the better or for the worse, she didn’t know.

The hostility continued for the next couple days. In those forty eight hours, he’d only said six words to her. Those were, ‘Where’s the file on Mansour?’ and ‘No,’ the ‘No,’ came to her when she asked him if he wanted a muffin the day he came to the hotel. He may have rejected her, but a few hours later, she saw him eating a leftover chocolate chip muffin after she asked him if he wanted one. She got muffins because that was something they both loved. Her favorite was blueberry while his was chocolate chip.

Y/N watched him the whole time he was there. She watched him write down things on a piece of paper, she’d watch him chew on his bottom lip, she watched him tap his fingers on the table as he sat there and gathered intel. She noticed that he drank bourbon now. Before she left, he didn’t drink much. Sure, he drank the occasional beer, but that was all he drank. He didn’t drink the strong alcohol like whiskey or bourbon. After a few glasses of alcohol had been finished on the third day he was in the hotel, she started to debate whether she would say anything about his new habit. She was curious why he drank so heavily now. She was curious when he developed the liking for it.

His digits wrapped around the glass and brought it to his lips, the amber liquid burning as it rushed down his throat. His tongue peeked out to collect the remnants off his lips as his eyes stayed trained on the warehouse outside. Y/N walked back into the room, having gone down to the cafe downstairs to get sandwiches for the both of them. She walked in just in time to see him open the bottle of bourbon and pour himself a tiny bit of the alcohol.

“I got us sandwiches.” She told him as she closed the door with her heel. Mitch didn’t look at her. It was almost like she wasn’t there. “They’re both turkey and cheese. I asked for tomatoes, too.” She set his sandwich on the table in front of him and walked over to the neatly made bed that Mitch had slept in for the past couple nights. She leaned against the headboard, unwrapping her sandwich.

He nodded, silently thanking her, but went on with ignoring her soon after. She watched him take a drink of his drink as he left the sandwich untouched. “You can eat your sandwich, you know. I know you’re hungry. You haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.” She mumbled, taking a bite of her sandwich. For the first time in three days, he looked over his shoulder to glance at her. He sighed and grabbed the sandwich, taking off the wrapping and taking a bite. It was small, but Y/N heard Mitch let out a very low moan of satisfaction. A soft smile found its way onto Y/N’s face as she listened to him. She felt at ease knowing that he was eating because it meant that he was taking care of himself.

Mitch took another sip of his drink. Y/N threw her legs over the side of the bed, planting her feet on the floor. “When did you start drinking bourbon?” She asked, raising an eyebrow even though his back was to her.

He picked up the glass, bringing it to his lips, but speaking before he poured the liquid down his throat. “When bourbon was easier to swallow than the fact that you weren’t coming back.” He muttered, side eyeing her.

Y/N was taken back by answer. It was like a huge punch in the gut. With those words, she felt salty tears burn in her eyes and her chest get heavy. She cleared her throat and sighed shakily, standing up to throw her garbage away and grab a water bottle from the mini fridge in the hotel room.

A couple hours went by and what Mitch had said had been the last thing that was said between the two of them. Traffic at the warehouse got very busy about twenty minutes after Mitch had last spoken, but it quickly died down. Most of the men that went inside the warehouse left within a two minute period of being there. Y/N had been reading some intel that Irene had sent the two when she looked up and saw Mitch was still looking outside, sitting in the same position he was three hours ago. The bottle of bourbon sat next to an empty glass. Mitch finished his drink after he ate and he hadn’t filled it back up since. His face was emotionless and unreadable. He was just plain and boring.

“You don’t smile much anymore, do you?” She walked over to the table he was at, leaning on the chair across from where he was sitting. Mitch just looked at her, asking her if she was serious about her question with just the look on his face. “When was the last time you smiled or laughed?” She tilted her head to the side.

The man in front of her rolled his eyes, fingers scratching his scruff. “Can you stop with the questions? I’m not here to talk to you about life.” He spat.

Y/N stood up, starting to walk away. “He’s cold, too.” She said under her breath, not thinking much of it. Mitch had heard what she said and that was his snapping point.

He scoffed. He spoke up, causing Y/N to turn back around and look at him. Mitch stood up from the chair, the bottoms of the legs on the chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. “Cold? I’m cold. You’re the reason I’m like this, Y/N.” He walked towards her. She took a step back with every step he took towards her until her back hit a wall and their faces were only inches away from each other. He put his hands on the wall behind her, trapping her in between his strong arms. “ You’re the reason I’m ‘cold’!” He yelled.

“Mitch, I’m sorry.” She mumbled, looking into his eyes. There it was. All the emotions he’d been keeping bottled up for so long were overflowing. He was more than prepared to say everything he’d been wanting to say since he saw her face for the first time since her ‘death’.

“Sorry?” He chuckled cynically. “You’re sorry? Is that just supposed to help? Is that sorry supposed to help me get past the fact that you made me think you were dead? That you put me in the worst kind of pain a person could be in? Is it supposed to help me get past you leaving me all alone? Is it?!” He slammed his right hand on the wall next to her head, making her jump in surprise at the loud sound next to her ear and his yelling.

She felt his warm breath hit her face and give her goosebumps at their close proximity. Even when he was yelling at her, she found comfort in his presence. She found him beautiful. He would always be her beautiful Mitch, even if he had cuts and bruises on his face. She knew that those injuries were bound to happen in their line of work.

Mitch’s heavy breathing slowed down as he looked into her eyes. They were glossed over with tears and that’s when he realized that he went too far. He took his hands off the wall, taking a step back. “I bet you didn’t even care that I was hurting. You didn’t care if I got hurt in the process of whatever bullshit mission you were on.”

Y/N exasperatedly scoffed. He put his hand on his hip and ran his hand over his face, fingers creating a bigger mess in his already dark, tousled hair. “You can’t really believe that!” She moved her head to look at his face. Mitch looked at her and nodded, saying that he did before looking to his black shoes. “Mitch, I looked for you for months after that day at the beach. I hired private investigators, other CIA agents, I even asked an old colleague in the FBI to look for you. None of them could track you down. You became a recluse.”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, lifting his head to glance at her. “Losing the woman you love will do that you.”

All of their cards were on the table. Everything they’d been wanting to say to each other could now be said. It was almost revealing in a way. It felt as if they were naked and had all their flaws were on display for each other to see. Something as intimate as this was nerve wracking because both of them didn’t quite know how to deal with feelings. Their occupations didn’t focus on emotions, but more on logic and reasoning. They both focused on things that made sense to someone as cold as they both were.

Mitch backed up until the back of his knees hit the edge of bed and he sat down. His elbows rested on his knees as he put his face in his hands. Y/N heard small cries come from him. They were soft and almost inaudible, but she saw how his body shook and it didn’t take much effort to clue in on the fact that he was struggling. He looked up at her and there were teardrops rolling down his face.

“What was I to you, Y/N?” He asked. “Was I just collateral damage?”

She shook her head, walking towards the man she loved, kneeling on the floor in front of him. “Of course not.” Her small hands cupped his face, her thumbs wiping his tears away. “I may not have physically died that day, but leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and that’s saying something in our line of work. I died that day. The best parts of me died that day. I don’t think I’ve smiled since.”

“That makes two of us.” He mumbled, leaning into her touch. “Why did you leave me? I could’ve gone with you. We could’ve done all this together.”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s complicated, but sometimes you have to be away from the people you love, Mitch. I couldn’t stay where I was, I had to be away from you. It didn’t make me love you any less. In fact, all that time away from you, made me love you even more. Do you still love me?”

Mitch covered the small hands of hers on his cheeks with her large ones. He leaned his forehead against hers, nudging her nose so he could plant a soft, quick kiss on her lips. “Always.” He whispered against her skin. Mitch grinned and pulled away from her, digging for something in his jeans pocket. He finally grabbed it and pulled it out, holding it in his palm. Y/N looked down at the item he pulled out. It was the engagement ring he’d proposed to her with. It still shined brightly. It was the only things he had left of her, so he made sure that it was always close to him. He grabbed her left hand from his cheek, kissing her knuckles softly before sliding the piece of jewelry onto her finger.

Y/N looked up at him, seeing the smile on his face and feeling her heart skip a beat. She looked into his eyes and saw the look in his eyes. It was pure happiness and love. He used to look at her like that all the time. For the past couple days she hadn’t seen any trace of the emotions, but now that she did, she knew they never left. Those feelings were still there and they would always stay there. The look in his eyes was all she needed.

“If you’ll still have me?” He mumbled, hope laced in his voice.

She smiled and kissed him passionately. All of the love she could ever want to summon in this one kiss. Her tongue ran over the seam of his lips. He moaned at the taste of her and gave her entrance without a fight. This kiss wasn’t one looking for dominance, but more of looking for the simple intimate touch that came along with a kiss like this one. The couple explored each other’s mouth like they’d done many times before. Although, this time was different. It felt stronger in emotion and felt more genuine. The kiss was broken for a brief moment so that they could get some air in their lungs.

Her hand ran up and down his shoulder, her touch making his stomach do somersaults. “Always.” Mitch beamed as he gazed lovingly into her bright eyes. Now that she had him back, the stunning twinkle in her eyes revived itself, the best parts of her coming back to life. He saw it happen right in front of him. He saw her come back to life.

He stood from the bed, pulling her up with him. He cupped her face and dipped his head down to kiss her lips. The kiss started off slow and sensual, but slowly escalated to rough and needy. It’d been so long since either of them had felt any kind of contact and it didn’t take long to get drunk off of it. His fingers stroked her cheekbones, her skin soft underneath his touch. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands pushing her shirt up slightly. He could feel the goosebumps shimmer across her skin as he dug his fingers into her lower back. She moaned into his mouth as he grew more aggressive, but in that moment, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

There was a small intake of breath as they parted briefly so that oxygen could fill their lungs once again. Y/N reconnected their lips, licking her way into his mouth. She focused on what he tasted like, bourbon being the only thing she get from him. It was warm and inviting, She could feel herself getting high off of what he tasted like. Mitch could feel himself getting dizzy as he kissed her. Kissing her was like spinning in a circle over and over again. It made him dizzy and threw him off, but it was the best feeling in the world and he would never sick of how she made him feel.

He pulled the hem of her shirt in between his fingertips, lifting the fabric over her head before throwing it on the floor. Mitch was surprised to see that the bra she was wearing a lacy, black, sheer bra. He groaned upon seeing her hard nipples through the material. “I almost forgot how fucking sexy you are.” He mumbled, smoothing up her sides and massaging her perky breasts. “Did you plan this?” His large palms slowly slid down her backside, hoisting her up as her legs wrapped around his waist. He walked her backwards, her back slamming into the wall. His lips caressed the flesh on her neck.

The chuckle that left her throat faded into a moan as he nipped at her collarbone. “No. I just really like this bra.” She mewled.

“That makes two of us.” Mitch hummed in agreement, his lips closing around her nipple. He sucked ferverously, pulling the hardened peak between his teeth occasionally, breathy moans being pulled from the woman he loved. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” She tangled her fingers in his shaggy hair. “I missed the feeling of you waking me up with kisses on my shoulder in the morning. I missed the love bites I’d find on my skin. I missed your very, very skilled fingers…” She trailed off as his hand came between their bodies. He undid the button and pulled down the zipper, looking into her eyes as he teased her.

He smirked when she bucked her hips, wanting him to continue taking off her clothes until she was bare in front of him. “Go on. What else did you miss about me?” He questioned, tilting his head in curiosity.

She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, palming his erect cock. “This.”

Mitch growled, his eyes being completely taken over by lust. He set her back on the ground, pulling her jeans, along with her panties, down her silken legs. He got down on his knees, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on her hip bones. He looked her in the eyes, grabbing her legs and hooking them over his shoulders. The seductive eye contact only seemed to make all of his actions more intense. He licked up her folds, feeling her shudder beneath him as pleasure crawled underneath her skin. He groaned upon tasting how sweet she was, feeling just how aroused she really was.

The moment he began sucking on her clit, she released a loud moan. The sound bounced off the walls, doing nothing to help the very uncomfortable situation that was confined in his pants. She could feel his smirk against the sensitive skin on her inner thigh. Her head fell back against the wall and her grip returned to the back of his head. Her hold on his locks of hair was tight and nearly painful, but the pure lust that Mitch was in drowned out the pain. His fingers skimmed her flesh before teasing at her soaked entrance. He eased his digit into her, curling up and grazing her g-spot.

Y/N’s fingernails dug into Mitch’s scalp. She was in complete and total ecstasy. Every touch felt heightened because she’d been without any sexual release for so long. With another filling her, her walls began to clench around his fingers. “Mitch, oh, baby. I-I’m… close.” She exhaled, her chest rising and falling as her lungs yearned for air. Mitch picked up the speed of his thrusts. Her arousal ran down his fingers, the lubrication helping him thrust in and out.

As her moans increased, Mitch removed his fingers and slipped his tongue into her pussy. Her bundle of nerves received stimulation from his nose rubbing at it. His tongue swirled in circles, touching every inch of her and collecting every drop of her he could manage to get. By the time he was done, there would be no place inside of her left untouched by him. He groaned against her core and with one last lick of her inner walls, her orgasm approached her, black dots dancing around her vision. Her toes curled into his back, legs tightening around his face. Mitch allowed her to ride out her high, the strokes of his tongue against her never relenting.

Before long, Mitch’s licks to Y/N’s pussy became too much and he had to be pushed away. “M-Mitch. Please, it’s too much.” She panted. Mitch pulled away, setting her down on her shaky legs, but keeping her up with his arms around her waist. He could feel the slight shake of her body as he held her. He kissed up her thighs lovingly, standing up as he did so.

“You taste so good.” He whispered. When they came face to face, his stubble covered chin was still covered with her juices. The sight of his wet chin made her realize that the scruff had been scratching at her thighs as he ate her out like he’d been starved and she was his first meal in a long time, but not only was she his first meal, she was his favorite.

Grabbing his large hand, she brought his fingers up to her mouth, licking them clean of her juices as she maintained eye contact. She could see that he was swimming around in a pool of desire. Mitch watched her suck and wanted her to put her mouth to use somewhere else. Y/N pulled his fingers from her mouth and pushed him back before he could lean in to kiss her. His knees hit the edge of the bed that he’d been sleeping in since his arrival. She strutted over to him, her tits bouncing with each step she took. Mitch watched her with anticipation as she got on the bed and crawled on top of him.

Her digits curled around the hem of his black henley and pulled it over his head. She threw the fabric somewhere in the room, her attention completely focused on his very defined torso. When they were together, Mitch was in very good shape, but he seemed to be in even better condition. His abdomen was more defined along with his v-line. Her eyes raked up and down his torso, fingers reaching out to touch his skin and curl in the patch of hair on his chest.

“I didn't know it was possible for you to turn me on even more.” She mumbled. Mitch chuckled underneath her, his large hands going to her hips. Y/N leaned down to leave wet kisses on his neck. As she trailed her mouth down his chest, she grinded against his dick, feeling him get harder by the second. The fabric of his jeans rubbing against her in the best way. She finally got to the button of his pants and she didn't hesitate to pop it open and pull down the zipper. She pulled his pants off his legs, dropping them on the floor, his boxers following soon after.

Her mouth watered as the pre-cum leaked from the tip. She kitten licked the salty substance, hearing Mitch groan as he watched her. Her lips wrapped around the head, sucking softly as she looked up at him. “God, I missed your mouth so much.” His hips bucked off the mattress, his tip hitting the back of her throat, causing her to gag around him. “Shit, babygirl. You okay?”

She nodded, her right hand playing with his balls as she continued bobbing her head. Her free hand went to his ass, hearing his breathing become heavier. She moaned around him, Mitch grunting at the vibrations that rolled through his body. His hand went to the back of her head, guiding her movements. She took all of him in her mouth, her nose burying in the dark, curly hairs at his base. She used her tongue to massage the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow as he teetered on the edge of his high. She began bobbing quicker, feeling him pulse in her mouth. His fingers scrunched up in the bed sheets, hitting the back of her throats over and over again. With one last whimper, Mitch’s body went rigid, his load spilled onto her tongue, enveloping her taste buds.

He pulled her up, flipping their bodies so she was laying on her back. “Having you back in my arms feels so right.” He mumbled, teeth clashing with hers as he kissed her lustfully. Her hands went to his back, nails digging into his mole scattered skin.

He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. “I want you to keep these here, baby. Can you do that for Daddy?”

“Why? I want to touch you.” She whimpered, her lips forming into a pout. Mitch leaned down kissing her nose sweetly.

“I know, but you remember that I like teasing, right? I remember how much you love touching me, it's fun to see you try not to touch me.”

“You have a daddy kink?” Mitch smirked, nodding slowly. “Oh, you kinky shit.” She giggled, moving her hand to go to the back of his neck, but he grabbed her wrist and pushed it back on the bed.

He leaned down and caught her bottom lip between his teeth. “You have no idea. There's so much I could do to you, but I don't have the patience. I want to feel your tight, wet pussy and fuck you into the mattress.”

“Daddy, please. Fuck me, fuck me hard.” She moaned. Mitch growled and grabbed his dick, lining himself up with her entrance. He slammed into her with no warning, the force pushing a scream out of her. “God, Mitch.” She sighed.

“I don't think so, babygirl.” He thrusted into her, setting a bruising pace. With each thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, only to pull out and drive back in. His hand smoothed over her thigh and he lifted slightly, the angle changing the feeling for the both of them. She could feel how he pulsed inside of her, how it was almost difficult for him to keep from cumming right then and there.

Her hands held onto the sheets as he fucked her. It took all she had to not touch him and she knew that Mitch liked to see her yearn for his touch even if they were in together in the closest way possible. “Please, Daddy. I want to touch you so bad.”

“I know. I can see that your knuckles are turning white from your grip.” He chuckled, but when Y/N’s tight walls clenched around him, his chuckle faded out into a groan of pleasure.

“Let me touch you. I know you want me to.” She gasped as he delivered a particularly rough thrust, her hands flying to his back and pulling him closer to her. Her fingernails raked down his back, red scratches left in her wake.

Mitch shuddered, burying his face in her neck. “You're welcome.” He started sucking on her skin, determined to leave her covered in hickeys by the time they were finished. He picked up the speed of his thrusts and the force. His tip hit her g-spot each time, her moans turning into screams and bouncing off the walls. Her walls started clenching around him and he knew that she was close.

“I'm gonna cum, Daddy.” She moaned breathlessly. “You're gonna let me come, right?”

“Of course I am. We both know I'm too selfish. I wanna watch your face when you release. I wanna feel you cum all over my cock. I wanna feel your walls close around me. I want you to feel my cum inside of you.” He panted, his skin sticky with sweat. “So, cum for me, baby.”

With those final words, she sharply inhaled and her back arched off the bed. Her toes curled into the sheets and she wrapped her arms around Mitch’s torso, biting on his shoulder to keep from screaming out. Her vision flooded with black dots as her body trembled underneath him. Mitch stopped thrusting as his own high hit him like a truck. Her clenches became weaker, but it was enough to milk him of all he had.

His body collapsed on top of hers. He rested his head on her chest, her hands going up to his shaggy hair, scratching his scalp gently. They both panted as the hot feeling of the room settled on their skin. He ran his hand up and down her arm, grabbing her left hand and intertwining their fingers. He kissed her knuckles, his thumb smoothing over her skin.

“I still can't believe I have you back. That you're alive and breathing. You're real. You're here in arms.”

“I'm so sorry, Mitch. I'm sorry that I put you through that. I love you so much.” Her eyes filled with tears and Mitch could hear her breath hitch in his fiancée’s throat.

“I love you, too.” He whispered. He looked up at her and shook his head, cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. “You're here now, right?” She nodded. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“You'll never leave me again. You'll stay with me even after we grow old and die.”

“I promise.” Y/N smiled, craning her neck to peck his lips lovingly. Mitch rolled off of her, grabbing his boxers off the floor and putting them back on.

“Now, get up, Femme Fatale.” He walked over to the table next to the window, grabbing the gun. “We have people to kill.”

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duskholland · 7 years ago

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Mitch Rapp Recs - 18/9/18

As part of my follower celebration, I’ve been sifting through my likes to find some of my favourite fics! This post is for all the Mitch Rapp stories I’ve read recently. The writers are all incredible, so I definitely recommend reading everything else they’ve written as well :)

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ONESHOTS:

Trouble | Part Two - @dumbass-stilinski

That’s My Job - @writingsbychlo

Pop Princess - @dancingwithdylan21

Built of Metal - @imagines-by-ilana

Unnamed - @stilinskisensation

Dangerous - @dylansbird

Red Paint - @lovelydob

Femme Fatale - @rememberstilinski

Blue Christmas - @rememberstilinski

Injured Brat - @wittystiles

I’ve Got A Present For You - @dylanobemineforever

Never Let It Get Personal - @mf-despair-queen

Welcome Home - @thelibrarianintraining

Arms - @redstringlovers

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SERIES:

Killer Queen - @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

Driven Motive - @lovefilledtragedy

Money Makes Her $mile - @ellie-bee242

Semper Occultus - @thelittlestkitsune

Unhealed Scars - @savage-stilinski

Multiverse Lovers - @mf-despair-queen (also Dylan, Stiles, Thomas, Stuart and Dave!)

#listed in no particular order!#mitch rapp #mitch rapp imagine #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp smut

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the-cookie-of-doom · 5 years ago

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She did feel a little bit of sympathy watch Mitch adjust himself uncomfortably, though. “Are you going to be okay, or do you need to like…?”

“I dunno,” he said, giving her a lazy smirk. “It’s pretty hard, being around the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“... I don’t know whether to say ‘aww’, or smack you for that awful pun.”

“That’s probably the right reaction,” he said. “But seriously, it’s fine. I just need a minute to cool off.”

“Okay. Want to watch another movie?”

“Sure.”

They shifted around until they could lay together on the couch, Laura’s back against Mitch’s chest with his arms securely around her. And her ass pressing back against his groin. “Hm. Surprisingly, this isn’t helping.”

#cookie writes #Mitch Rapp #Laura Hale #things are heating up in this chapter #my ***oneshot*** might have to be 3 chapters >_>

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ao3feedsterek · 2 years ago

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stiles stilinski oneshots

stiles stilinski oneshots https://ift.tt/AVYEQ07 by TwistedMJ_55 was originally called dylan o'brien character oneshots Words: 94, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, The McCall Family (Teen Wolf), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Heinrich Treadway, Mitch Rapp, Richie Boyle (The Outfit), Caleb Holloway, Colin (Not Okay), Thomas (Maze Runner), Damon Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore, Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson, Original Characters Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Everyone, Stiles Stilinski & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski, Mitch Rapp & Stiles Stilinski, Richie Boyle (The Outfit) & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Heinrich Treadway, Caleb Holloway & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Thomas (Maze Runner), Joel Dawson (Love and Monsters) & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Stuart Twombly, Damon Salvatore & Stiles Stilinski, Klaus Mikaelson & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Original Character(s) Additional Tags: Attempted Kidnapping, Kidnapped Stiles Stilinski, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sciassc, peter hale flirts with mitch rapps, damon attempts to flirt with stiles, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, mitch rapp is a good brother June 10, 2023 at 04:13AM https://ift.tt/AVYEQ07

#IFTTT #AO3 works tagged 'Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski'

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huntersanonymous · 8 years ago

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Boy Meets Girl (Chapter 2)

Author: sumcp

Chapter two: The Closet

Characters: Dylan O'Brien x Reader

Word Count: 2096

Warnings: occasional swearing, mentions of kidnapping(triger warning?) and terrible sentence structure/grammar ( I am working on it)

Note: This is based off the Disney Channel Movie Starstruck with a twist. I do not own the rights to the movie. Yes, I’m aware its a Stiles gif, but it just fit so.

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 3

You sat in the car, stunned that Dylan would even ask such a stupid question. You couldn’t form a sentence, trying to find the words to tell him exactly what you thought when he interrupted your train of thought.

“Earth to Y/N..” He trailed off, snapping his long fingers in your direction. You always hated when people snapped their fingers to get attention, it made you feel like they were talking to a dog telling it to sit. His hopeful look, quickly turned into one of annoyance. You have had enough of his attitude tonight.

“Dylan you just hit me with a door, gave me a concussion, and practically kidnapped me.. Hell no I don’t want to go to a party with you. Take me home.” We sat in silence for a moment after you just blew up on him. Dylan was still making his way to whatever destination he turned us around too, not looking at you anymore. You took the moment of silence and tried to turn on your phone, fixing to text your friends and explain everything that has happened in the last 20 minutes. You clicked the home button 3 times but nothing was working, then you noticed the small hairline fracture running up your Iphone. Great, just what I needed, you thought.

“In my defense, I ‘practically kidnapped’ you to take you to a hospital.. That’s not nearly as bad. That’s the best type of kidnapping.” Dylan offered nonchalantly, daring a glance in your direction.

“You know what the best type of kidnapping is? No kidnapping at all!” You caught his gaze, having a silent stare down with the gorgeous boy. Dylan caved first, averting his eyes back to the road with a low sigh. He didn’t bother to turn back around at the red light like you thought he would, instead when the light turned green he went right through.

“Are you serious? You realiz you just went from practically kidnapping, to full on kidnapping right?” You yelled at him again.

“Just Calm down Y/N.” Dylan sighed again, shaking his head lightly as he continued to stare at the road.

“I don’t want to calm down, I want to go home.” You fumed, throwing your broken phone in his direction out of anger.

“Ow! What is wrong with you?” Dylan yelped, obviously not prepared for your assault. Dylan swerved the car momentarily, and turned to look at you wide eyes. He looked shocked, not believing you actually threw something at him.

“What’s wrong with me? Nothing. Nothing at all, I was looking forward to getting abducted tonight.”

“Oh is that why you’re so crabby?”

“I am not crabby.” You huffed. It seemed like Dylan was just trying to make you angry at this point.

“Oh.. right, not crabby, defensive.” Dylan rolled his eyes at you, griping the steering wheel tighter.

“I am NOT defensive.” You put more emphasis on the word, trying to get your point across. You realized you had only known him for 30 minutes and all you have done was argue with each other. You let out a small breath of air defiantly, turning your body so you could gaze out the window.

“See you disagree with everything I say.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Just take me home!” You yelled at Dylan for the what seemed like the 100th time.

“I will!” He yelled back. He had his jaw set and his hands were still tense on the wheel. A couple of seconds passed before he calmy added, “But first, we need to make one teeny-tiny little stop.”

15 minutes passed, neither of you saying a word to each other. You continued to stare out the window, not wanting to sneak a peak at Dylan for fear he would be looking at you too. You made a plan, once you arrived at the party, for whatever reason he couldn’t be bothered to take you home first, you would borrow someone else’s phone and call an Uber. You noticed the car pulling into a subdivision full of fancy houses. You knew we were getting closer to the destination when Dylan turned onto a smaller dead end street. Unless he’s planning on killing you, you thought.

“Is this the part where you cut me up in little pieces and hide my body?” You mused. He scoffed, turning the wheel around a sharp curve. You heard the blaring of music before you saw the house. Dylan made one more turn before the house came into view, cars were pilled all around and it seemed like every light was one. People were milling about, half of them having red solo cups in their hands. Dylan quickly grabbed a garage door opener from the visor, opening it so he could park the car. You forgot you were in Tyler’s car and not Dylans.

He quickly put the car in park, closing the garage door behind him by pressing the button. Before you knew it he was at the passenger side door, opening it for you. What a gentleman, you thought. No Y/N, this guy was a stuck up celebrity who only cares for himself. You were torn away from your conflicting thoughts when you finally got out of the car and heard the music first hand. You were surprised the whole city of Los Angeles couldn’t hear it.

“Alright so we’re gonna go through this door, and up the stairs as quickly as possible.” Dylan spoke, while pointing to the door on your right. He looked nervous, and you couldn’t help but wonder why so you asked.

“Why?”

“Because, there is someone here I need to meet. You can just wait in my old room until I’m done and then I promise I will take you home okay.” He was defiantly nervous and you were full of questions. You pondered the offer a moment, and reluctantly agreed. He didn’t know you, which means he didn’t know how stubborn you really were. He started walking toward the door and you followed in line with him. He paused before opening it, looking back at you. “Ready? On my count. 1…2…3..“

Dylan opened the door quickly, the banging from the base making your head throb again. You were stunned at the inside of the house, pausing to take in the sight. “I didn’t know being werewolf paid this well.” You mumbled.There were people practically shoulder to shoulder, filing out to the backyard. You watched as a couple of girls pass by, dressed in what couldn’t even be classified as a bikini, making their way to the pool. Dylan was a few steps in front of you when he noticed you still standing by the door, watching the party unfold. He grabbed your hand, tugging it in the directions of the stairs. You let him lead the way, as you tore your gaze from the party. Just as you reached the top step, you thought you saw a flash go off out of the corner of your eye, but you didn’t have time to turn around and inspect it before Dylan turned the corner to the hallway.

He stopped once he reached the second door, ushering you in side and looking both ways before he closed it. Once the door was shut he leaned against it, visibly relaxing. He let out a small sigh, rubbing his slight peach fuzz that was on his chin. You wandered farther into the room, even if there wasn’t much to look at. You noticed a drum set in the far corner with a couple of posters hanging on the wall from various bands, and a couple of pictures as well. There was two doors in the room, one was already opened revealing a luxurious on-sweet, so you assumed the other door was a closet, but what got your attention the most was the king sized bed that set perfectly centered against the back wall. You made your way over to the bed, running your fingers along it lightly. The comforter was soft to the touch which had your imagination in over drive with images of you and Dylan rolling around under it, getting tangled up in what appeared to be Egyptian Cotton sheets.

“Okay so you can stay in here, just don’t make too much noise. Feel free to watch TV, I will be back as soon as possible.” He said, teetering back and forth looking at you nervously.

“Okay.” You simply said, making your way to the TV stand to grab the remote. He looked up at you shocked, he was obviously prepared for another fight. You glanced back at him, but you couldn’t read his facial expressions anymore. Before you could make your way back to the bed, Dylan grabbed your arm gently, pulling you so that you were facing each other. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just continuing to look at you.

“Do you need something O'Brien? Am I suppose to curtsy as you exit?” He raised an eyebrow at the question, which you returned with more sass, giving him a small bow. He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

“Listen smartass,” he laughed again, “I just wanted to say thank you. You are doing me a huge favor, even though you don’t like me and I really a–”

“It’s not a favor if you are dragged somewhere against your will.” You pointed out which earned you a playful glare, but Dylan continued talking ignoring your comment.

“And I REALLY appreciate it.” He put emphasis on the word, and you could tell by the glimmer in his eyes he was telling the truth. He gave you a small smile, which made you smile in return. We continued to stare at each other, this time the silence wasn’t uncomfortable or hostile, it was peaceful. He broke eye contact for a moment as his chestnut colored eyes darted to your lips and back.

It was so fast you barely noticed, but it still caused a lump to form in the back of your throat. Your mind was racing and you were surprised Dylan didn’t hear your heart that was pounding in your chest. He tilted his head slightly, licking his lips. He looked at you, trying to judge if you were okay with this but the problem was, you didn’t know if you were or not. The last person you kissed was Ryan, and the thought of someone else’s lips on yours was hard to imagine since you thought Ryan would be the last person you kissed. Ever. He tilted his head further, only inches separating you from him now. When you felt his breath fanning on your lips, you made a spur of the moment decision and closed your eyes. Dylan took that as a sign, but before he could close the short distance to crash his mouth on yours, his phone rang.

The ringtone pulled you out of the moment, causing you to pull away slightly opening your eyes. Dylan coughed, pulling all the way away from you as he ran his fingers through his hair before grabbing his phone out of his pocket. The moment you two almost shared, was gone and the peaceful silence you were sharing had turned awkward. Dylan read the text that interrupted us, and his eyes widened momentarily. He quickly put his phone away and started walking toward the door.

“I gotta go, I’m.. I’m sorry,” He stammered, he coughed lightly trying to pull himself together. “Like I said make yourself at home. Just stay.” He offered you a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Woof.” You pouted, putting your arms up to resemble a dog. His face fell, hurt by your joke.

“Y/N that’s not what I meant, I—”

“Dylan!"

Dylan’s eyes practically fell out of his head when he heard his name being called by a female voice. You looked at him concerned but before you had the chance to say anything, the voice called again.

"Dylan O'Brien I know you’re up there!"

Whoever was yelling was not happy, even through the loud music you could hear her stomping up the stairs. Dylan quickly grabbed your arm again, spinning you around. He was dragging you toward the second door in the room, as the girl screamed his name one more time.

"Look I will explain in just a minute but please just be quiet.” Before you knew it, he had the door open and you didn’t have time to react as he gave you a slight nudge into what you guessed earlier was a closet. It was dark inside but you could faintly make out the outline of clothes. You stumbled back, stepping on what you thought was a pair of shoes. You were fixing to come barging out when you heard Dylan’s door open and slam shut with a bang. You pressed your ear against the door just in time to hear him.

“Hey Brittany.”

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ao3feed-stevebucky · 2 years ago

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Oneshots

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/9j2TYPW

by thiamlovestory

just some random one shots i've wrote

Words: 39, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: House of the Dragon (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stranger Things (TV 2016), 9-1-1 (TV), 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020), Reign (TV), Teen Wolf (TV), The 100 (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types, Grey's Anatomy, The Rookie (TV 2018), The Originals (TV), Outer Banks (TV), Shadow and Bone (TV), Dream SMP, Riverdale (TV 2017), Wednesday (TV 2022), Shadowhunters (TV), Merlin (TV), Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020), X-Men - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Witcher (TV), Shameless (US), Legacies (TV 2018), Fear Street Trilogy (TV), The Walking Dead (TV), The Maze Runner (Movies), The Black Phone (2022), The Umbrella Academy (TV), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M, F/F

Characters: James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Jonathan Byers, Nancy Wheeler, Stiles Stilinski, Malia Tate, Francis de Valois (Reign), Mary Stuart (Reign), Peter Parker, John Murphy (The 100), Raven Reyes (The 100), Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Daemon Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Derek Hale, Theo Raeken, Liam Dunbar, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Anakin Skywalker, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, James "Bucky" Barnes

Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman, Lydia Martin/Mitch Rapp, Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, Mary Stuart/Francis de Valois (Reign), John Murphy/Raven Reyes (The 100), Clarke Griffin/Roan, Meredith Grey/Derek Shepherd, Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanov, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sarah Cameron/John B. Routledge

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/9j2TYPW

#ao3feed #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stevebucky #stucky #steve/bucky #stevexbucky #fanfic

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wittystiles · 7 years ago

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The Bluff || Part 14 || Mitch Rapp

Author: wittystiles

Word Count: 2k+

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Warnings: Cursing (I think, idr).

Authors Note: It’s been 2 months since I last wrote anything for this fic. It’s been months since I have had the time or energy or mental capacity to do any writing. And it shows. This chapter is a little different in it’s writing style than the last chapters, not too noticeable, but a little. I really hope you like it, and I would genuinely love it if you decided to give me some feedback. (-:

The black dodge charger slowed as it approached the curb, its driver thankful for the convenient space in front of the apartment building his GPS had led him to. He threw the car into park and turned the radio down, looking over the brownstone with wonder. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting on the drive over but this certainly wasn’t it. The building looked like it was originally a single family home that had been refurbished to accommodate multiple renters. It looked to be out of (Y/N)’s means. He wasn’t sure the income of a surgical nurse, but he certainly underestimated it, according to her home. Or, perhaps it was severely faulted, and she got it at a steal.

Concluding that the latter was the reason she was inhabiting this particular place, he turned off the air conditioner and then the car. A man with a small dog passed by his car and he waited briefly for the man to be far enough down the street that he wouldn’t appear to be a threat before exiting his vehicle. The door slammed of its own accord. He shoved the keys into the right pocket of his black leather jacket and approached the brownstone he’d spent entirely too long staring at from the confines of his car. He paused at the staircase leading up to the door, head on a swivel to make sure that no one was watching or lurking in the shadows. (Y/N)’s unwanted visitors had already been long gone but he felt he could never be too cautious in his line of work.

Climbing the steps two at a time he reached the door and tugged at the handle. When it didn’t give his attention found the call box on the wall to his left. He eyed the names on it, finding the one that seemed the most likely to open (and that wasn’t (Y/N)’s). He pressed the buzzer a few times, waiting impatiently for a response. An old and raspy voice came crackly through the speaker of the call box. “Who is this?” The voice inquired. He cleared his throat, making it sound much more friendly than he usually wanted it to.

“Hi! I’m so sorry to bother you,” Mitch spoke into the microphone of the speaker box, finger pressed against the button corresponding to the voice who’d asked of him. “I locked myself out on accident and my girlfriend isn’t answering her phone. Would you please buzz me in?”

There was no answer on the other end but he heard an electric buzz and quickly tried the door again, smirking a little when it opened. He wondered how often people got into shitty situations because they were far too trusting of strangers. Mitch consulted the sticky note in his pocket for the apartment number and realized he simply needed to look for the broken door and he’d know which was (Y/N)’s. The only apartment on the first floor looked unscathed, so he once again took the stairs two at a time, reaching the landing of the second floor easily.

“Bingo,” Mitch said to no one, spotting the winning door. His tongue darted out and carded over his lips, wetting them and giving him a pause to get his thoughts together. His feet carried him to the door and he once more hesitated outside of it. “(Y/N)?” He whispered, pressing the pads of the first three fingers on his left hand against the wood. When no response came he figured it safe to proceed further into the apartment than the threshold.

The door creaked in protest and his spine tensed. He gave a look around to make sure there wasn’t a threat looming in the small living room, finding only a disaster of all of her belongings. He looked down at the floor and picked a picture up that he’d accidentally been standing upon. An aged cocker spaniel sitting in a different living room was all that was depicted in the photograph. An old pet, he assumed. He dropped it back to the ground and began carefully walking through the room and deeper into the apartment. Nothing, it appeared, was off limits to the bastards who had broken into (Y/N)’s dwelling.

He checked the bathroom, finding it devastated as well, and sighed. They’d even yanked all of the toilet paper off of the roll and left it in a pile on the tiled floors. “Pricks,” Mitch scoffed, closing the door. He turned to the only other door in the hallway and hesitated. He had seen (Y/N) return home and hadn’t seen her leave. He became suddenly aware that he was about to see her once more, probably distressed, and in her own home. Her own room. His stomach once again knotted uncomfortably. His training had prepared him to go blindly into the most dangerous of situations, to accept bullets and knives to his skin without a flinch. As the assassin stood in front of the bedroom door of his charge he realized that none of that training was available to aid him now.

Mitch inhaled deeply and reached for the door handle, watching it spin and retreat from him before he could manage a hold on it. The door revealed a stunned (Y/N), who let out a scream so blood-curdling it made his own heart want to leap in his chest. If his stomach hadn’t been knotting before he guaranteed it was now. He didn’t think a person was capable of showing so many facial expressions in the span of what was possibly only four or so seconds. His brain barely had time to register all of them but recognized the most prominent. She had looked so frightened and helpless in that brief moment of shock that his natural protective instincts got the better of him.

Mitch took a step forward, hands coming up to clasp (Y/N)’s biceps. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he said in a voice that could only be considered comforting. “It’s just me, (Y/N).” He could see the fear subsiding within her eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She asked, voice sounding a little shaky to Mitch’s concerned ears. His thumbs began doing what felt natural, working in soft circles on the skin of her arm. Staring at her blankly, he found himself at a loss for an answer, eyes wide and tongue-tied. His throat felt nearly dry.

“I came to check on you and I saw your front door kicked in,” he managed, letting her withdraw her biceps from his grasp. He kept his hands at the ready should she wobble on her feet. “Are you alright?”

Her shoulders shrugged, going high enough that they nearly touched her ears. Mitch noticed for the first time that her lobes were pierced, small diamond studs tucked securely inside. He wondered if she’d put them in since she’d gotten home or if they’d been in place in Paris. “I’m fine. Why are you checking up on me? You said we were done in Paris, remember?” She sounded angrier than Mitch had anticipated. Was he the bad guy, now? How had that transpired?

He let his guard down, hands stuffed into his pockets before the action registered to his brain. Why was he checking on her? He chastised himself mentally for not preparing himself on the drive over; too distracted by the GPS and trying not to grit his teeth in anger. His knuckles were still stiff from the severity of the grip he had had on the steering wheel.

“I was mistaken. Turns out I am not done with you and you’re still technically my responsibility,” his voice betrayed him. He was trying for indifference leaning towards bitterness, however, what came out was moderate relief. Her expression softened. She withdrew from him more, stepping around him on a path away from her bedroom.

“C’mon,” she called over her shoulder, stepping around the mess scattered about the floor on bare feet. “Let’s see if I have any drinks in the kitchen, I sure need one.”

***

Three hours later and (Y/N) was tucked into bed with an empty bottle of wine on her nightstand and a belly full of the snacks she’d convinced Mitch to run out and get her. He sat at the foot of her bed on an armchair he’d dragged in from the living room, thankful that the stuffing was still mostly inside of it. She slept soundlessly, not tossing and turning either. He was thankful that the alcohol had subdued her enough to not have a fitful rest. He’d have comforted her, sure, but that was a drama he was glad to avoid.

He had managed to tuck his legs underneath himself, situated comfortably enough with his elbow propped on the arm of the chair. The blanket that (Y/N) had drunkenly insisted he take was covering his lap and occasionally he found himself appreciating it. Her apartment was colder than he thought convenient for her electric bill. He had caught himself gnawing on the nail of his thumb earlier and was actively trying to keep himself from doing it again, teeth worrying on his bottom lip instead. Between the moment he’d received the phone call at the coffee shop until now, Mitch’s mind had not had a chance to slow down and deconstruct everything calmly and calculatedly as he liked.

His mind thought back to the video, to the way his heart had leaped into his throat at the first sign of the intruders despite the knowledge that (Y/N) wasn’t in her home. To the worry within which he was drowned at the thought of her being apprehended by an accomplice outside of her apartment building after she’d left the camera's frame. He was familiar with anxiety, to panic. He’d suffered more than enough of it while he was in the first handful of months following the beach incident wherein he’d lost Katrina. He had learned how to control it, through channeling his emotions straight into training. He’d, for the most part, returned to his mellow self. That is until (Y/N) burst onto the scene and undid every single thread holding himself together. He would never admit out loud that she was all he’d found himself caring about since that fateful night in Paris a month or so prior.

He began picking at the armrest with the hand that wasn’t propping his head up, his blunt nails making a dull scratching sound on the fabric. The first time he’d seen (Y/N) vulnerable, scared and inebriated he had none nothing about her. She was just an innocent victim that he needed to keep safe. Now? Now she lay before him as someone who’d changed everything he’d established for himself. Who’d snuck into his brain and gotten him to care.

Mitch tasted blood on his tongue and realized he’d split his lip open from pulling at it repeatedly with his teeth. He wondered if (Y/N) would kiss him if she noticed it, she had a tendency to be gentle and affectionate when she saw he hurt. Was this the same? A voice in the back of his head told him he just wanted to be kissed.

Deciding he couldn’t sit and think about (Y/N) any longer, Mitch forced his body from the chair. His knees cracked with relief at being stretched. He took the blanket that had fallen to the floor and draped it over (Y/N)’s sleeping form, making sure she didn’t stir before walking out of the bedroom. He let out a loud huff after shutting her door, pushing his shaggy hair away from his forehead. The only thing he could think to do was begin cleaning. He made his way through the apartment to the kitchen, finding a trash bag in the cabinet beneath the sink.

Setting off to the living room, he found that he was overwhelmed with where to begin. There was something on every inch of the floor, stuffing, and glass littered everywhere. He set the bag down on the remains of the couch, setting about the daunting task of cleaning (Y/N)’s apartment. Hoping that when she woke he would be finished and she would find some ease in her heart from the break-in. Hoping that she would maybe even smile at him.

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