#the next part will be Stiles and Katrina back on the ship

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Settling Debts

Part 1

Mitch was in the middle of licking spiced rum off Katrina’s breasts when a man came bursting into the room, red-faced and panting. Mitch pulled his loaded pistol off the bed-side table a second later, leveling it at the man while Katrina quickly pulled up the sheet. 

“Captain—!” The man stopped short, eyes wide and hands raised. Jones, Mitch recognized after a beat, a new member of the crew. He lowered his pistol. “Captain, you need—to come—with me,” Jones gasped through his labored breaths. 

“What happened?” 

“It’s Stiles.” 

“What happened?” Mitch asked again, demanded. Something cold and awful wrapped around his heart, squeezing, choking him. He looked at Katrina, found the same fear on her face that he was sure was mirrored on his own. 

“Please—the beach—you need to see—”

“Get out, we’re coming.” 

Jones gratefully nodded and bowed out of the room, leaving Mitch and Katrina to dress in fast, tense silence. 

Together, the three of them ran towards the beach. Jones was already winded from his sprint to the inn to retrieve them, so they left him lagging behind. Katrina saw Stiles first. 

“Oh God, is that—” 

Mitch stopped short, Katrina careening into him. Stiles was strung up before them for the whole crew to see, battered and bloody. Several men were already in the process of cutting him down, and it was only by Stiles’ agonized whimpers that Mitch knew he was even still alive. 

He grabbed the nearest crewman and demanded, for the third time, “What the fuck happened?”

“It was the crew of the Ghost, sir. The new captain, he said he wanted the woman, but you keep too close an eye on her. He said—” The man cut himself off, sun-backed face going pale. Mitch shook him roughly. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry, captain. He said one of your whores was as good as the other.” That awful coldness inside of Mitch threatened to swallow him whole at what those words meant for Stiles. He was swaying wildly between white-hot rage and shocked numbness when he pushed the crewman away and said, “Find Deaton.” 

Mitch found his way to Stiles, though he couldn’t say how he’d done it. One moment he was standing, the next he was dropping down in the sand beside him, hands shaking as he took one of Stiles’ between his own. The only place he wasn’t afraid to touch. 

Katrina held Stiles’ head on her lap, gently brushing her hand over his blood-matted hair. She was afraid to touch him, too, not wanting to aggravate his sun-ravaged skin. He must have been up there for hours, while the crew left camp in favor of finding their pleasures in town. Just has he himself had done. 

I never should have left him. 

“Stiles,” Mitch said softly. Stiles opened his eyes and cracked a smile. Mitch saw red as fresh blood ran down his split lips, dripping down his chin. 

“‘M okay, love,” Stiles said, so obviously false it couldn’t even be called a lie. 

“You’re not. But I’ve sent for Deaton.” Stiles exhaled raggedly, some of the tension leaving his body. “You’ll be alright, Stiles.” 

“What are you going to do?” Katrina asked quietly, glancing around. Painfully aware that for Stiles to have been left so long to suffer, in full view of the other crews making camp on the shore, they must have been complicit. 

“I’m going to kill them. Everyone that laid a hand on him. I’ll raze this entire fucking beach if I have to.” 

And then Deaton was there, kindly ordering Mitch out of his way, and the sun was setting over the water, and he still hadn’t let go of Stiles’ hand, couldn’t bring himself to pull away, to leave him again. 

“Go,” Katrina said softly. “I’ll stay with him.” 

Four men came forward to help Deaton get Stiles to the longboats, so they could return to the ship. 

“Make sure everyone is on the ship by morning,” Mitch ordered. 

“But captain—we just got back, surely we can take a few days—”

“No. Any man that’s not prepared to sail by sunrise can join another fucking crew.” 

Mitch found two other men that would follow his orders without question or hesitation, and set off. Night was falling fast, and he intended to ensure it was the last one the crew of the Ghost would ever see. 

“Wait!” Deaton’s apprentice, Scott, scrambled into step beside him, struggling to attach a cutlass to his belt. “I’m coming with.” 

“You understand what we’re doing?” Mitch asked. Scott had never had much stomach for killing; Mitch tolerated the aversion only because of his training with Deaton. If he couldn’t fight for the crew, he could at least patch them up afterwards. 

Scott set his jaw with a grim look and nodded once. “They hurt Stiles,” was all he said, and it was enough. 

“Fine. Try not to get yourself killed.” 

***

Once the sky had fully darkened, Mitch and his men snuck into the Ghost’s camp, features darkened with soot to better blend into the shadows. Mitch’s orders had been clear and concise: leave none alive. 

The first tent held four men, passed out drunk. Mitch stood above the one nearest, covered his mouth to stop a scream, and plunged a knife into his throat. A slow, wet press that made blood gush over his hand, spraying wildly when he pulled the knife free. Around him Scott and the other’s did the same, grim-faced. And so they made their way through the camp like specters, sowing death in their wake. 

Eventually Mitch left to track down the captain, already suspecting who he would find. Sure enough Ronnie was waiting for him in the largest of the tents, a sword in his hand and a smirk on his face. 

“Why?” was all Mitch could ask. One single word grit through his teeth. 

“You’ve made a lot of enemies here, Mitch. Lot of people who don’t like the way you run things.” Ronnie stood slowly, and Mitch’s hands tightened around his blades. “Everyone’s so afraid of you. It’s about time someone put you in your place.”

“You think you can?” Mitch snarled. I will remind you why they’re right to fear me. 

“I think I already have. You should really learn to take better care of the things that are precious to you.” 

With an enraged shout, Mitch threw his dagger across the tent. Ronnie ducked out of the way, but it was only a distraction. Mitch followed close behind, already closing the distance between them, and brought his sword down in an arc that Ronnie barely blocked. 

“I should have killed you,” Mitch hissed. Years ago, when he’d had the chance. Instead he left the bastard marooned on an island, and he’d somehow crawled his way off it and into a stolen captaincy. 

“Yes, you should have.” Ronnie bashed his head against Mitch’s and kicked him back, shouting for whatever remained of his men to take up arms. There were few enough for Scott and the others to handle it, keeping them away from his own fight. 

It was just as bloody and viscous as the last time they came together. Mitch knew they were evenly matched for strength and skill. He’d barely gotten away with his life last time. But this time, he wasn’t fighting for his own life; he was fighting for Stiles. He welcomed the numbness as a shield against Ronnie’s attempts to taunt him with everything he’d done to Stiles, and gave into the pure, white-hot rage, letting it guide his movements by pure instinct. 

Mitch was wild, feral, tearing at Ronnie with blade and nails and teeth, grappled with him in the sand and chased him through the camp, ringing steal announcing their presence to whomever still survived. 

Finally, when they were both bloody and exhausted, Mitch’s dagger locked against Ronnie’s sword between them, he made a choice. Mitch dropped his hand, screamed as the sword embedded itself in his shoulder, inches from his throat, and sank his dagger into Ronnie’s stomach. 

A wet gasp was his only answer as Ronnie’s eyes went wide, dropping slowly to look between them, at the pool of blood darkening his shirt. Several long moments later his hands slipped from his sword, and the realization set in: he’d lost. Ronnie looked up at Mitch again, finally afraid. 

“Did you really think,” Mitch said, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper, “I’d let this go unanswered?” Mitch twisted the blade to hear Ronnie’s strangled scream.  “Or did you just think you could kill me first?” Then he wrenched it across one, two, three, four times, cutting raggedly through flesh and fat and muscle, and stepped away to watch bloody, pink entrails spill wetly onto the sand. 

Mitch stood there, holding his bleeding shoulder, bloody and bruised and victorious. If only it didn’t feel so hollow. 

“Captain.” It was Scott that approached, wary, hands raised and open like he was trying not to startle a wild animal. Perhaps that’s exactly what Mitch was. “Let me have a look at your shoulder.”

Mitch ignored him. 

“Burn it all,” he said, staring down at the corpse at his feet. 

No one moved to obey. 

Killing the Ghost’s crew and captain—that could be excused. They’d come for one of their own, and Mitch rightfully retaliated. But the destruction that would be wrought with a fire—it would surely spread to other camps, to those that had no hand in it. Mitch didn’t care. He turned on his men with teeth bared and eyes blazing.

“I said burn it!” Mitch shoved past Scott with a snarl, picking up a torch and throwing it into the Captain’s tent. Slowly, silently, they followed suit, until a red-orange haze lit the beach. They made their quiet escape to the water as chaos broke out, shouts echoing into the night as the fire began to spread, and finally it was over. 

Scott wrapped Mitch’s shoulder with a strip of cloth torn from his shirt to slow the bleeding until they made it to the ship, and Mitch watched the shore burn with grim satisfaction. 

[were-cheetah-stiles]

The Recruit (Chapter 18) - Mitch Rapp

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “Day 78, Part II”

Characters: Mitch Rapp, Steven Rapp & Reader/OFC

Author’s Note: thank you to @ninja-stiles for helping me decide what to do with this chapter WEEKS ago. I was going in all different directions and she really helped to shape this. Also, I’m assuming that Jake Gyllenhaal joke was with you, Britt............ I’m assuming. 

The Hills - The Weeknd

Warnings: SMUT. like dirty bathroom sex kind of smut. cursing. 

Chapter Seventeen - Chapter Eighteen - Chapter Nineteen

"Bro.. do you know who that is over there?"

"Hmm?" Mitch glanced over to where Steven was looking. He didn't recognize the man that was being seated at the table nearby. He shook his head and looked back at his food.

"Dude, you know who Jake Gyllenhaal is."

Mitch shrugged. "Name sounds familiar."

Steven shook his head and looked back at the table full of food in front of him. "You are so nonchalant about everything." Mitch laughed and shrugged again, his mouth full of cornbread. "So do you have any pictures from your trip?"

"What trip?" Mitch asked, his mouth full after shoving a forkful of mac-n-cheese in it.

Steven lowered the barbecue rib from his mouth and put it back on his plate, confused as to how Mitch didn't know what trip he was referring to. "....... the trip you took after Katrina... the one you were on for more than a year...?" Steven stared at his brother, with his brow furrowed.

"Oh.." Mitch chuckled and glanced down at his plate. "Um, not really."

"No pictures? At all?" Steven seemed bamboozled by that concept, as he was absolutely addicted to his iPhone and was garnering quite a following on Instagram. Steven was definitely more a child of their generation than his brother.

Mitch nodded and stuffed more cornbread in his mouth, chewing the dry carb in an effort to stall. "It just wasn't that kind of trip, you know? I was trying to..."

"Get over Katrina, I know. I just figured.. I don't know, a landscape or something. Where'd you even go?"

Mitch felt the need to lie about this. He didn't think that his brother would understand why, after seeing his fianceé be killed, Mitch would return to the Middle East for “leisure”. "Spent some time in Asia. Hong Kong, Thailand, Japan, Indonesia, Vietnam, Cambodia.. I really liked Cambodia." Mitch had never been to any of those places. "I wish I had taken some pictures now. The thought just never crossed my mind at the time." Mitch shrugged.

Steven went back to eating; his suspicions having been quelled. "I'm guessing you're not really allowed to take pictures on your trips for work either."

Mitch chuckled and shook his head. "No, not really."

"Well, listen..." Steven sighed, and wiped his hands on the napkin tucked into his shirt collar, protecting his suit from their messy lunch choice. "I don't need pictures of your trips, and I don't really even need the stories either... I just need my big brother back. I can take trips down to D.C. when you're in the States, and I'm assuming like every one else you get holidays off. You and Y/n can always come back up here for the Fourth of July."

Mitch understood how much he had abandoned his younger brother and he felt guilty for it, but he could not give Steven anything definitive for fear of letting him down again. "We get some holidays off, and if we have that off, then yea, we'll definitely come up here for it."

"Or I could come down to D.C. I bet Independence Day in the Capital is probably sick."

"Yea, maybe.."

Mitch and Steven finished their lunch and began walking back to Steven's office building, when Mitch spotted a used bookstore.

"Uh, do you mind if I pop inside for a minute? I want to see if they have something.. if you have to go back to work, I'll just see you later at dinner?" Mitch asked, as they stepped out of the way of the other pedestrians. Steven shrugged and followed his brother.

"What are you looking for?" Steven said as Mitch looked for someone who worked there.

"Excuse me, um, Derek?” Mitch glanced at the young man’s name tag. “Where are your classics?"

The skinny young man behind the check out desk took his time raising his gaze from his magazine up to Mitch, but when he did see the brothers, a smile spread across his face and he leaned over the counter. "Over there, honey." He pointed of to the right. "Let me know if I can help you with anything."

Steven snickered and Mitch walked off, not noticing that he was being flirted with. "What are you looking for?" Steven asked again, Mitch's eyes scanned the shelf full of old secondhand books.

"I just want to see if they have something..." Mitch poked his head around, moving the stacked books around on the shelves.

"I can help, you know?" Steven complained, tiring of his brother's silence.

"Don't need it." Mitch grabbed a dusty blue, hardcover book off the shelf and brought it up to the register. "How old would you say this is?"

The employee gave his best pout as he examined the book. "Maybe a third or fourth edition?" He rung up the book and handed it to Mitch, who had a slight smile on his lips. The cashier watched as the two brothers walked out of the store together.

"Alright well that was fun.... I'll see you guys at like 8?" Steven said smirking and shaking his head, holding the door to his building open, half standing in the lobby.

Mitch nodded and walked back towards the subway.

You sat on a cozy love seat, under a heat lamp, at the rooftop bar of The Standard Hotel in the Meatpacking District of Manhattan. You, Mitch and Steven decided to get drinks after dinner and enjoy a Tuesday night on the town. Mitch was standing at the bar, trying to get all of your orders in, and you seized the moment. You leaned forward towards Steven and asked a question that had been in the back of your mind since you found out about Katrina.

"What was he like growing up?"

Steven put down his phone when he heard your question. He glanced behind you to see Mitch still waiting to be served at the bar. "Funny. He was always smart and driven and all of that, but he was lighter then, you know? When our parents died, Mitch really took it hard."

"The boarding schools..." You interjected.

Steven nodded. "We got shipped off to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania to live with our aunt, step-uncle, and three cousins, and Mitch just didn't handle it well. I was young enough, that I was just sad, but Mitch was angry. He got in fights and he didn't go to class.. He stole my uncle's gun and car and just drove out to the woods and shot targets until it got dark. The police finally found him and.." Steven shrugged. "It was failed boarding school attempt, after failed boarding school attempt, after failed boarding school attempt... The last one made the difference though. He found a coach that saw the potential in him and he became Varsity captain of the lacrosse team by Sophomore year. He did winter track and swim team in the fall."

"He went to 'Cuse on a lacrosse scholarship, right?" Mitch had never told you that, he didn't like talking about college very much, but you had done some snooping in the files in Stan's office when they were both gone.

Steven smiled and nodded. "Yea, he was a beast... an actual All-American athlete, you know?" Steven shook his head. "I love my brother a lot, and I don't mean to sound cocky, but when I got to Syracuse a year after him, it was like me and the school and our friends and lacrosse brought out the Mitch I grew up with. He was good again, light, effervescent, funny, talkative... I think being around a sport he loved, and good friends, and his brother-"

"And Katrina.." You didn't like beating around the bush.

Steven nodded. "I think it all did a lot of good for him.

"So the Mitch that we have today is because of what happened to Katrina then?"

Steven paused and nodded. "It was not at all fair that that happened to him twice.." Steven came around and sat next to you on the seat, trying to not shout over the music. "...that he lost people so suddenly and tragically, twice? It was just fucked up. He left about two weeks after her funeral and he stayed in touch and kept his apartment for about four months, and then he just disappeared, sold the place, and I didn't hear from him again until like two weeks ago when he told me he was coming up here with you."

You fidgeted with your hands in your lap. "I don't know what to to say.. that's... just.." You trailed off and shook your head, looking around to see Mitch finally speaking to the bartender.

"I've never seen him like he is now though. I can tell that the anger is somewhere under the surface, like it was when we were kids, but at the same time he's...." Stephen paused looking for the right words. "You clearly make him really happy, Y/n. He's different than he was with Katrina. Maybe he just grew up more or something. I mean, they were only twenty-three when they got engaged."

"What are you two talking about?" Mitch came over, balancing three drinks among his long fingers, and sitting where Steven had been sitting, across from you.

Steven hooked his arm around your shoulders, hugging you close to his side, and smiled. "Talking shit about you, big bro."

You grinned and patted Steven's arm, appreciating that Steven didn't divulge the true nature of your conversation. Mitch smirked and rolled his eyes. "Then you get no drink, little bro."

Mitch leaned against the wall, sipping his whiskey and watching as you chatted up a girl with Steven. He thought back on the last time he saw you act like a wingman at a party. He remembered the electricity that surged through his body when, in your tight, short, cream colored dress and thigh-high black suede boots, you leaned over his lap, your hand resting on his thigh for stability, and ordered his favorite drink without him ever having told you what it was. He remembered watching you gyrate on the dance floor, and the way your body moved in your dress. He took a deep breath and took a sip of his drink, suddenly feeling overheated. He scanned the dark room, full of sweaty, grinding bodies, swaying to the overly loud music, and saw you, grin and nudge Steven as he got dragged out onto the dance floor with the girl he was trying to snag.

You turned around, a mischievous and drunken smile plastered on your face. You spotted Mitch and began strutting off the dance floor towards him, purposefully swaying your hips in an exaggerated fashion as you approached him. You paused to down the rest of your champagne and leave it on the bar, turning back to Mitch, and dancing your way over to him. He stared at your legs, barely covered by a high waisted and short red leather skirt. His eyes made their way up your body passed the tight, long sleeved, but low cut black shirt, and choker necklace, and up to your red-stained lips moving as you sang the words to the song playing over the speakers. He grinned, and rubbed at the stubble on his chin, chuckling and shaking his head at your tipsy behavior.

"Come on..." You pulled at his hand, trying to get him to follow you onto the dance floor.

Mitch didn't budge from the wall, instead pulling you back against him. "I haven't seen you like this before." He said, his lips curling up at the corners, as he snaked his arm around the small of your back.

"I have fun sometimes." You whispered up to him, tonguing your top left canine as you smirked. You swayed your body against his, your hands pressed against Mitch's chest, and your face inches away from his. "Come dance with me."

"I haven't danced in a long time..."

"But you've danced.." You ground your body against his a little harder, and smugly licked your lips.

"I don't think so, Y/n/n.." Mitch was trying to suppress a grin. He didn't want you to know how much you were turning him on. He wanted to remain stubborn and win, so that maybe, instead of making him dance, you would want to leave and go home instead.

You were definitely the more stubborn of the two of them. You looked up at the speaker above the two of you in the ceiling as you heard the song change. You grinned and then pouted. "I love this song. Please?" Mitch shook his head.

"Your man on the road, he doin' promo... You said, 'keep our business on the low-low'.."

You connected your eyes with his and began silently singing the words to him. "I'm just tryna get you out the friend zone, cause you look even better than the photos..." You smirked and wiggled your fingers at him in a come hither fashion.

Mitch laughed, dropping his head down, and pushing the back of his hand to cover his smile. "Nope." He killed his whiskey neat and placed it on the tall table next to him, finally wrapping his hands around your waist.

The bass on the lightly remixed version of The Weeknd's, "The Hills" dropped and you turned around, your hands pulling Mitch's arms tighter around you, and you began to grind your body against his. Mitch pressed his lips together and tried to remain resolved in his stubbornness. He rolled his head back and quickly gave up. He'd pretty much do anything you wanted. Mitch grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the dense crowd of people.

"I only love it when you touch me, not feel me. When I'm fucked up, that's the real me. When I'm fucked up, that's the real me, yeah.."

You grinned from ear to ear and wrapped your arms around Mitch's neck. He tried to suppress his smirk and pulled your body close against him. You swayed back and forth against him, smirking as you remained inches away from his face. You pressed your hand against the nape of his neck, leaning him closer and you connected your lips to his. His hand made it down to squeeze your ass as you continued kissing and grinding on each other.

The deejay seamlessly flowed The Weeknd into a remixed version of "Drunk in Love" by Beyonce and you smiled into your prolonged, sloppy kisses. You broke away and turned around, keeping your arms hooked around his neck. You felt Mitch begin to sway his hips against yours in a way that kept good time with the hypnotic rhythm. You felt your desire for the way his body moved against you begin to pool against your black panties. You were entranced at the natural way his body moved to the music.

Your left hand broke free from its sweaty grip around his neck and ruffled your hair in a way that wafted the familiar vanilla scent into his nostrils. He was more intoxicated by you than the alcohol. Mitch snaked his hand up your arm and placed your hand back around his neck. He then reached around, cupping his hand under your chin and pulling up. He felt you twitch against his grip, a quick flashback beginning to form in your memories.

"It's just me. It's just us." Mitch whispered into your ear, his lips grazing your cheek.

You breathed deeply and surrendered to Mitch's pull. He locked his lips against yours, his hand holding tightly against your jaw, as he bit and pulled at your bottom lip. He heard the faintest moan come from your mouth, as your fingers curled into his hair and you pushed against his cock. His free hand worked its way up from your hip bone, lightly pulling at your leather skirt as his sticky skin moved, to your sternum, and you whimpered. You could barely hear the music over the sound of your heart thumping in your ear drums. Mitch tugged at your bottom lip again and you could no longer fight the urge.

You grabbed at his hand, pulling it off of your throat, and led him out of the crowd. Your skirt was slightly off kilter from the dancing, and Mitch reached down with his free hand to pull it back in place. You were no one's to look at but his.

You led him down a long and dark hallway and towards a stairwell. Mitch stopped you and pushed you up against a wall, the sound from the speakers in the club caused the surface to vibrate against your body, as Mitch pushed your head to the side and began kissing at your neck. You pushed Mitch off and began walking down the staircase, wobbly from the alcohol and your high, black suede booties. You grabbed his hand again when the two of you made it to the bottom of the stairs and he followed you towards the end of a slightly less dim hallway. Mitch glanced around, the walls were covered in graffiti and stickers and chewed gum, and the music was muffled, but still decipherable through the ceiling.

You opened the door to the women's restroom and crouched down to glance under the stalls. It was empty. Mitch followed you in and reached up to the metal arm at the top of the door, locking it closed. Mitch suddenly got pushed against the door by you, who ran your hands through his hair and pressed your lips against his. He leaned down, looped his hands under your thighs, and picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, still kissing wildly at him, and suddenly felt the sensation of cold and wet porcelain against the bottoms of your bare legs.

Mitch pushed your chin up and left long, sucking kisses against your throat and jaw, as you fumbled to get his pants undone. He finally relieved you of the task, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled them down. You bit and pulled and sucked at his bottom lip, moaning into the action as he grabbed your waist, pulling you off of the sink to stand in front of him.

Mitch turned you around, watching you press your delicate fingers into the white porcelain, and he ran his hands up your thighs, reaching them underneath the supple leather of your skirt, and pulled down your underwear. You glanced over at the full-length mirror on the back of the door and saw Mitch's cock, fully erect and waiting to be buried inside of you. Mitch looked up, you were staring back at him in the dirty mirror in front of you.

"You trust me?" He asked your reflection. You nodded. "Do you want me?"

You bit your lip. "God fucking yes."

Mitch smirked, placed his hand on the back of your neck, and pushed you against the sink. You gripped onto the sides as you felt him push your skirt up around your waist.

"Oh god." You moaned loudly, as Mitch pushed his thick cock inside of you pussy; knowing that you were wet, but not actually checking. Mitch let out a loud exhale as he explored your body from a position that he had been to afraid of experiencing with you up until that morning. He felt his length fill you up completely and he shuddered at the sensation of his hips meeting your ass.

Mitch began to pick up his pace, and his strength, fucking you with the speed and force of a man who knew he was probably about to be caught by bouncers. Mitch watched as you moved one of your hands from the sink, to up against the wall in front of you. He listened to your staggered breathing, muffled by the bass of the music from upstairs.

"Harder." You said, barely audible amidst your moans.

Mitch obliged and began thrusting into you with even more force. You grunted and pushed back against his thrusts, causing Mitch to quickly lose control. You wanted him as deep inside of you as he could possibly get when he finished.

"Fuck, baby." Mitch whined, as he watched and felt you pushing back against him. "Fuck."

Mitch leaned forward, pressing his hand against yours on the sink, and gripping your shoulder as he quickly came undone. He pressed his body against yours again, and felt himself become drained of his seed. You moaned loudly as you felt his throbbing dick empty inside of you. Mitch collapsed his head onto your back and felt your heart racing against the back of your ribs.

"You okay?" He asked as he pulled out, a drop of his cum quickly dripping onto the dirty tiled floor between your feet.

"That was...so good."

Mitch walked over and unraveled a roll of toilet paper from the closest stall. He wiped himself up, tucked himself back in his pants and zipped them back snug around his waist. He wiped you up, and pulled your panties from your ankles back up around you, then pulled your skirt back down. He pressed his body up against you, your ass smushed against the porcelain once again.

"So, that was okay?" Mitch asked, placing his hands on your hips, and staring into your y/e/c eyes.

You nodded. "That was the hottest thing ever... but you owe me."

Mitch smirked. He knew you hadn't finished. He fully intended on repaying the debt. "I know."

"What time is it?"

Mitch looked at his watch. "2330."

"Do you think Steven will be pissed if we leave early?"

"Yea, I doubt we were even really going to see Steve again tonight." Mitch commented, reaching up to unlock the door.

"Why's that?" You asked, standing next to him with your hand on the handle of the door.

"Oh, Steve is definitely going to take that girl home and have sex with her, so I really don't think he'll be pissed if I take this girl..." Mitch gestured to you. "... home with me and have sex with her until she comes."

You grinned and followed Mitch out of the club.

Guys. Mitch is going to be the death of me. Um, I also think I’m gonna close the tags for The Recruit around Chapter 21? So get your requests in ASAP. 

@chivesoup @confidentrose @alexhmak @dontstopxx @iloveteenwolf24 @surpeme-bean @snek-shit @kalista-rankins @parislight @cleverassbutt @damndaphneoh @mgpizza2001 @chionophilic-nefelibata @ninja-stiles @sarcasticallystilinski @teenage-dirtbagbaby @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @alizaobrien @twsmuts @rrrennerrr @sorrynotsorrylovesome @lovelydob @iknowisoundcrazy @5secsxofamnesia @vogue-sweetie @dylrider @ivette29 @therealmrshale @twentyone-souls @sunshineystilinski @snicketyssnake @xsnak-3x @eccentricxem @inkedaztec @awkwarddly @lightbreaksthrough @maddie110201 @hattyohatt @rhyxn @amethystmerm4id @completebandgeek @red-wine-mendes @katieevans371 @girlwiththerubyslippers @theneverendingracetrack @snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales

[the-cookie-of-doom]

excuse me a pirate au?? with poly?? please talk about this cookie I am invested now.

Anon said: Talk to us about your pirate au, how did stich become pirates? Did they have a pirate role model? Have they found any mermaids?

oh my dearest of friends! Not only can I talk about it, I have also written it (here, here, here, and here.)

Essentially it starts out with Mitch and Stiles, both street kids who met in an orphanage, somewhere in their early teens (Stiles was about 13, Mitch was probably about 15). They're all each other's had for most of their lives, surviving with each other and for each other. Mitch ages out before Stiles does and is forced to leave; he's old enough and strong enough to find work on the docks, eventually makes his way onto a ship's crew, and takes Stiles with him. It's not glamourous work, but it pays, and it gives them a place to call home.

But eventually a few years later, the ship they're on gets taken by pirates. The crew gives them an opportunity to join, and Mitch and Stiles jump at the chance; they owe no loyalty to their captain or the Crown. Both of them have heard the stories of pirates, and neither ever took them for the warnings they were intended to be.

They fit in well enough with the pirates, and never look back. They move from crew to crew, sometimes by choice, sometimes out of necessity. Then one ship they serve on long enough for Stiles to become the bosun; a prestigious position, and one he worked hard for. He's in charge of maintaining the ship, keeping operations running. As well as disciplining the crew. He finds that out the hard way when Mitch acts out against the captain, and is whipped for it; Stiles being the one behind the lash.

After that traumatic incident, Mitch fights his way to becoming captain of his own crew, and things are smooth sailing from there. (Pun intended.)

That's all the backstory. The main story, Settling Debts, takes place when Mitch is an established captain, and has been for a handful of years; three, maybe four. His crew take a prize which happens to be carrying the daughter of a rich merchant: Katrina. Mitch finds one of his crew trying to rape her; kills the pirate without hesitation, then takes her prisoner with the intent of ransoming her to her father. Later that day she tries to bash his skull in with a lantern, and tries to kill him again the next morning while he sleeps. Mitch doesn't know whether to be irritated or impressed, but he respects her for the murder attempts.

Unfortunately for Katrina, she realizes her father doesn't care enough to pay the ransom; Mitch sends Lord Harper a threatening letter about what will happen to her if he doesn't pay, and he essentially responds with "do whatever you want, I'm not paying." Katrina's heart broken, Mitch is righteously angry, and once the heartbreak wears off a little bit, she decides to destroy her father's entire business and watch as his life falls apart around him, because of her.

In the meantime, though, she's slowly falling in love with Mitch. She makes a deal to become part of the crew; he teaches her to fight, she teaches him to dance (while Stiles plays his fiddle). She learns more about Mitch's relationship with Stiles; they're matelots, essentially pirate husbands. And there's a lot of Tension bc neither of them will act on their feelings, both of them knowing that soon, Katrina's contract will be up, and she'll be free. Katrina doesn't think Mitch wants her to stay, and Mitch doesn't know why she would. Meanwhile Stiles thinks they're both idiots; he can see how much they care for.

In the beginning, Stiles tells Mitch to have fun with Katrina. It's not the first time they've been with other people. But Stiles knows something about Katrina is different; Mitch does too, so he initially keeps some distance between them. He's already pledged himself to Stiles, and he doesn't want to betray that oath, even if Stiles gives his blessing. But with time, Stiles falls for Katrina, too. He can't help it; she's a perfect match for them, just as sharp and snarky, but also caring. She adds gentleness to their lives that neither had before, and they give her adventure. Show her what it's like to live outside the bounds of polite society, where every aspect of her life is dictated by others. She takes very well to becoming a pirate.

So, yeah! Pirate AU! Tension! Drama! Poly relationship! Vengeance against shitty fathers! Katrina being a badass pirate! It's a fun AU and I have like 10k written for it lmao

Edit to add: I also have an AU that’s very similar to this one, except Katrina is a former nun that Mitch ~liberated~ from a convent a la Jack Sparrow xD She later joins a brothel, and once Mitch becomes captain, he brings her on to his crew. He also wears her old rosary as a good luck charm.