#I read this one back in hs so my memory's not fresh but

[milkbreadtoast]

Do you happen to have more recommendations? My WEBTOONs reads are a bit empty since the ones I’ve finished are done/cancelled etc. doesn’t even matter the type.

I'M SO SORRY i saved this to my drafts because I had written a long thing and tumblr deleted it so i needed to rewrite it... and then I forgot about it... IM SO SORRY!!!! I actually don't have a whole lot of webtoon recs bc I haven't read that many, and only would rec a few from the ones I have read, but I will gladly share some that I've enjoyed/am enjoying!!!!

No Home (집이 없어) there is no official tl but it's being scanlated on other sites (by whatafruit)!! This is... quite possibly one of the best things ive ever read... it's a drama about high school kids and their home problems/traumas... please read it the writing and characterization is SO good and nuanced, the storytelling and pacing is masterful, the characters are so loveable yet so realistically flawed and show their ugly human sides... PLUS THE ARTSTYLE IS SOO CUTE AND IT'S FUNNY.... 100/10 best webtoon (I actually need to catch up TT I know it'll make me CRY so ive been putting it off...)

"When the Day Comes": this is a slice of life/school romance one... but even if you don't like slice of life pls give this one a chance i promise u it is so good u wont regret it... the writing and characterization is realistic and nuanced and the characters are all so loveable... plus the art is GORGEOUS... and there was unexpected LGBT rep that made me so happy TT I love omyo's writing... and if you enjoy this one pls also check out "the stories of those around me" if u want to see more of the author's work!! that was one of my first webtoons and I still love it..

I already rec'd Lee Yeon's work but in case anyone didn't see... pls read "The Makeup Remover"!!!! that's one of my recent all time favs... and I'm also enjoying "Surviving Romance" by this author which is still ongoing! It's a zombie horror/thriller (but it's not too gorey!! i hate gore and it's rly mild/mostly censored... i love lee yeon's art style and chara designs its a big insp) I admit i didn't like SR's writing as much as TMR but it's still a really fun read (esp binging) and the pacing is really engaging... (ALSO DONT JUDGE LEE YEON'S WORK BY THE THUMBNAIL IT'S REALLY MISLEADING LOL....)

and currently I'm enjoying "Rewriting our love story" on webtoon... there's only 8 eps translated on webtoon so i cant for SURE say how good it is lol but so far im pleasantly surprised? like its rly good for a "het romance" webtoon... and the art is cute! so if u dont mind het romance join me in waiting for updates lol

I MIGHT UPDATE W MORE LATER BUT I FEEL RLY BAD FOR ANSWERING SO LATE SO ILL PUBLISH NOW

[witchersjaskier]

left alone 2

part 2 of this. there will be one more part, promise!

also can be read on ao3

||

It's just a second of thirst, of that strange, insane pull Geralt feels towards Yennefer. It's just a second of losing control and giving into the passion and then the clarity comes back and Geralt almost tears away from the bed.

“Fuck.”

This is not good. This is really fucking bad, probably one of the worst fuck ups of Geralt's life.

Jaskier.

He needs Jaskier, he needs to find the bard and beg for forgiveness, promise that it won't happen again, beg for help with severing that stupid damned wish he made. He needs to pray to any god hs knows that Jaskier will forgive him.

Geralt dresses quickly and spares a second to think about a shower, but then the urge to find Jaskier grows bigger. He knows that the bard will hate the smell of the witch on him, but that can be solved later. Yennefer doesn’t try to stop him and that just says a lot about what’s between them.

“Jaskier!” he calls, running out and looking around.

There's nothing.

“He left,” he hears the elf say, voice soft and kind.

Geralt growls, panic settling in. “What the fuck do you mean?”

Chireadan just shrugs. “He saw you and Yennefer, went to your horse, took some things and left.”

“And you didn't stop him?!”

The elf shrugs again. “It's not my job.”

Fuck.

Geralt runs towards Roach and his hands shake when he finds the dagger he gave Jaskier a few years back. All of Jaskier's things are gone, his lute, bedroll, clothes. All of it.

Jaskier is gone.

He stares at Roach in disbelief, anger and guilt mixing in his chest. All of this time working towards something, all of those smiles and sweet smell and gentle touches, all of it gone because of a damn wish.

Because Geralt couldn't help but fuck the beautiful witch.

“Fuck.”

Jaskier's smell is already fading from the road so Geralt jumps on Roach and urges her into a gallop. She also knows that he's missing, she saw him leave, and she's eager to get him back. They ride until the scent changes directions and Geralt leads her towards the forest.

It took him less than 2 hours to reach this place but Jaskier probably walked for longer. Walked while Geralt slept in bed with someone else, throwing away everything they had between them.

He walks into a clearing and then falls to his knees next to the lute.

Jaskier left.

His scent isn't going anywhere else so Geralt knows that Jaskier flew away. That means he could be anywhere by now, as flying is much faster than riding. Fuck.

He looks down at his hands and carefully cradles the lute, cursing himself. A stupid fucking wish made that way because Geralt can't, for the life of him, form a proper sentence and a djin always tries to trick the master. Geralt wouldn't care that much but if it cost him Jaskier then he will find a boat and sail to that damned fae island to find his bard.

Carefully, Geralt grabs Jaskier's things and brings them to Roach. She nips at his fingers pointedly and he grunts.

“I know,” Geralt sighs, swinging back into the saddle. “We won't find him now but we can try to find someone who'll get rid of the bond.”

He can already feel a fake tether pulling him back towards where Yennefer is and he hates it. It's not true, not born of affection and years together but of magic and tainted desire. Geralt needs to find a way to break if and then pray to any gods he knows for Jaskier to return to him.

It's hard, travelling without Jaskier again after he already found him again and then almost got him killed. Geralt grist his teeth and steers Roach towards the next village. He has things to do and people to find.

The next few weeks are spent looking for a powerful mage that could rid him of the bond and missing Jaskier. Roach isn’t enough anymore, not when he knows what’s it like to have a human-shaped companion that talks to him and sings to him and gives him the brightest smiles Geralt has ever seen.

“Think he will come back, Roach?” Geralt asks one evening, staring into the fire.

Usually, Jaskier is just next to him, leaning against Geralt’s shoulder and either playing the lute or making a flower crown for Roach. Sometimes, when Geralt is lucky, his wings are out, brushing against him.

Sometimes, Jaskier talks about his home, about his family and his past. Sometimes, they compare scars and stories.

Now, there’s none of that. Geralt is alone, with just his horse and Jaskier’s lute as companions, the silence almost overwhelmingly loud. Still, he keeps looking. Keeps taking contract after contract and trying not to miss Jaskier when there’s no warm bath waiting for him after a gruelling fight.

When he’s in a mood and the monster was particularly difficult to kill, Geralt will pause and look around, almost letting himself imagine Jaskier there, grinning at him with violence in his bright blue eyes and wings spread threateningly. Sometimes, he lets himself remember how it is to fight with the fae by his side, how it is to see Jaskier truly work when he’s angry.

Sometimes, Geralt dreams.

Through it all, he keeps cursing himself and the djin in equal measures. Even Yennefer, though she doesn’t really deserve it.

The tug to see her is still there, but Geralt always goes in another direction or leaves before they can talk. He doesn’t want to risk getting lost in the artificial desire burning between them, not when the memory of Jaskier is still so fresh and painful.

Not when Geralt knows why Jaskier left and just what he lost.

“I know who may be able to break it,” Yen says when they meet again, managing to do so before Geralt can escape.

The Witcher turns to her and frowns. There aren’t many ways to break what a djin did.

“I felt the connection weaken a few weeks ago,” she continues calmly. “Something or someone made it easier to break it, and I want to do it. You’re not the worst man I’ve ever met, Geralt, but I will belong to no man.”

Geralt nods. He also doesn’t want to belong to her, not like that. Besides, his heart already belongs to someone else and he doesn’t want to give his body away like that.

���Lead the way,” he says simply.

There’s still the mystery of what or who weakened the link, but Geralt has a suspicion. Jaskier isn’t stupid for all the idiocy in him, and Geralt knows that there must be mages or at least some magic users who may be able to weaken or even destroy the bond. He won’t put it past his bard to do something like this.

It also fills him with hope, as maybe Jaskier will actually return to him. If he knows that it was fake, that it wasn’t really Geralt’s desire that led to what happened in that damned house, maybe he will come back and let the Witcher explain.

All Geralt has now is hope.

The person who may be able to help them turns out to be Tissaia, a powerful and cold sorceress that helps them only because Yennefer is the one who asks.

“Someone powerful meddled with what’s between you,” she says wit curiosity in her voice, eyes glowing. “Magic like I’ve never seen before. If they were closer, they’d be able to destroy the fake bond completely.”

Geralt swallows and nods. “Can you finish it?”

“Of course,” Tissaia says with a smirk and then something in Geralt breaks.

He and Yennefer gasp and the witch slides to her knees and then that tether is gone and Geralt can breathe easier. Thinking back, he can’t recall what was so intense to push him into Yennefer’s bed. Whatever it was is gone, the overwhelming affection for Jaskier blazing in its place.

Geralt’s breathing catches and he fights to stay upright. The guilt and misery hit him tenfold now with the djin’s creation gone, and he almost wants to cry.

“Everything okay?” Yen asks from next to him and Geralt looks at her with wide eyes.

“Jaskier,” he rasps, heart hurting.

The woman frowns, unsure what he’s talking about. “That annoying bard? What about him?”

Geralt shakes his head and leaves without saying anything to Tissaia. He can’t be here, not with everything so fresh again. It’s like what happened in that forest all those months ago, finding Jaskier’s things with the bard missing. It’s like that but stronger and Geralt leans against Roach and closes his eyes, trying to breathe through overwhelming emotions.

“Geralt,” Yennefer says softly from behind him. “Just because the bond is gone doesn’t mean I suddenly don’t care about you.”

The Witcher nods and forces himself to face her. There’s no desire in his gut now when he looks at Yen. She’s beautiful but her purple eyes don’t hold a candle to the blue ones that haunt Geralt’s dreams.

Still, he finds that he still cares about her. Platonically, no desire or love whatsoever, but he wants her happy and content and healthy. She may even be one of his friends.

Yennefer smiles at him, gentler now that the cage holding her is gone.

“What was that about the bard?” she asks curiously, eyes glinting.

“He’s gone,” Geralt says almost involuntarily.

She laughs and shakes her head. “Yes, bards tend to disappear for a while, hmm? I’m sure he’ll stumble back into your life in need of saving.”

Geralt thinks about Jaskier standing over him in front of a werewolf, a sword in his hand, He thinks about soft hands soothing the aches and pains in his back. He thinks of a wickedly curved dagger sticking out of a downer that was about to attack him from behind.

He thinks of the sweetness of Jaskier’s smile and the danger of his eyes and doesn’t say anything because that Jaskier, lethal and wild, is just Geralt’s. He doesn’t say anything and they part not long after.

Turns out that he didn’t need to say anything because not a month later they’re facing down a mad sorcerer and his mutated, giant pet. They’re exhausted and Geralt doesn’t want to believe that they will die here, but the fight is hard and they’re loosing.

The sorcerer is busy with Yennefer and it’s the only reason why doesn’t notice a black blade coming from behind until it’s sticking out of his chest, dripping with his blood.

Geralt looks over and Jaskier is there, eyes completely blue and shining, fangs bared and wings spread wide. His chest goes tight and then his bard is next to him, and they’re dancing around the monster in the mud until it’s down and Geralt can see Jaskier smile again.

“Hey Geralt,” Jaskier says softly, wings dropping a bit. “It’s been too long.”

Geralt stares at him for a second and then pulls him into a hug, mud and blades and all. He feels like he can breathe for the first time in months.

[lokissweater]

Little Darling

Soldier!Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Harry falls in love with the pretty nurse that takes care of him during the war.

Warnings: none my bbys :*

Authors Note: oh my god, the response i got from flower boy was insaaane y’all made me cry happy tears for dAYS LMFAO, but honestly thank you so muchhh, and im so sorry i’m been mf gONE i’ve had this and three more drafts in the works and i never got around to finishing them heheh, anyways enjoy!! and if you’ve sent me a request don’t worry i’m also working on that rn and thanks for sending it in! love u! <3

Word Count: 1,998

You had never met anyone like Harry.

“Patient 113! Patient 113!”

Nurses scurried around the small hospital, hundreds of men injured as you hurried your way to the front desk.

“I’ll take him,” You said quickly. “Bring the other ones in.”

You carefully sat him down and wheeled him across the hectic large room and to an open spot.

The side of his face was bloody, and he remained unconscious as doctors lifted his limp body onto the bed. You quickly grabbed gauzes and disinfectants, ridding of the dirt, sweat, and dried up blood off of his face.

“Patients name?” The doctor asked.

You pulled the dog tag from under his uniform and said, “Harry Styles.”

The doctor pressed a stethoscope to his heart and listened, “We have a pulse.”

He then wiped his forehead in exhaustion. “From the looks of it, he took a blow to the head and fell unconscious, but he’ll be fine.” He then hung the tool around his neck. “He’s all yours now y/n, just clean him up and call me when he wakes.”

“Yes sir.”

Then, you hadn’t thought anything of him. Just another patient you anxiously wanted to save because unfortunately the one before, couldn’t be.

But when Harry awoke, his dazed eyes drifted around the room, and once he regained his senses and actually looked at you, he didn’t hesitate to say that you were the most beautiful little thing he had ever seen.

This, of course, made you roll your eyes and blame it on the antibiotics, but he stood by his word and would even go as far as to request for you if a different nurse came to tend to him.

You had grown to love his unruly hair and sense of humor, but most of all, were his eyes. They reminded you of the trees your grandmother used to grow around her small cabin in the middle of no where, and from time to time would pick a sparkling emerald leaf to place gently in your small palm for good luck.

Now every leaf she had ever given you was stowed away in an old jewelry box inside your attic, brittle and brown. But each time you looked into Harry’s eyes, it was as if your childhood never left, as if the leaves never dried out, and as if your grandmother never died.

You spent a great deal of time taking care of him, and as soon as he recovered he took you out on a date by the river; picking small daisies to card gently behind your ear. It was sweet, his cute dimples evident as he smiled at you. The air was fresh and calm, and the sight of Harry on the grass, palms spread behind him with his head tilted back, sun adorning his features, was a sight hard to forget.

He’d always call you his little darling and made sure you were absolutely happy at all times. You were his sunshine, and it wasn’t hard for him to fall in love with you.

All of this was short lived though when you received devastating news. Harry was to be drafted again, and the area was no where near where you were at the moment, meaning if Harry got hurt you wouldn’t be able to treat him.

And if he died, you wouldn’t know until weeks after.

When he told you, you cried your eyes out while he got down on his knees, hands placed firmly on your arms.

“Little darling, hey, don’t you cry,” He wiped the tears off of your puffy cheeks with one hand and sighed. “I’ll come back to you, I promise you baby, don’t you cry.”

“Harry you could die!-”

“I won’t.” He said firmly. “You really think i’d leave you that easily sunshine? You’re gonna have to chase me to the ends of the earth to even give you a minute by yourself.”

That had made you laugh, and he wrapped his arms around you as he stood back up. “I’ll come back. I’ll write to you everyday a-and send you the very first flower I see. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You only nodded into his chest, a soft smile on your face, “I love you.”

Harry tightened his hold around you and rested his chin on top of your head.

“Tell me again,” He whispered. “I want to hear it one more time before I go.”

Harry kept his word and wrote to you as often as he could, but you still spent each and every day worrying for him and his safety. You had taken note of the increasing amount of men that came piling into the small hospital you worked at, and the injuries only seemed to worsen. You’d ask Harry what was going on in your letters, but he’d write back saying that everything was fine, and ultimately change the subject.

“Our men are dying,” One of the nurses had said to you as she patched up an unconscious soldier, “Many won’t come home.”

That made you sick to your stomach, and it didn’t help when after two years since Harry’s departure, his letters abruptly stopped coming soon after. The last one he had sent was dated a month ago, and it read:

Dear y/n,

How are you my little darling? Are you happy and well? I hope you are. I miss your pretty face.

Something tragic happened. My best mate died on field yesterday, and I have never felt such remorse in my entire life. It’s getting harder to stay alive my love, and when I saw his still body in the dirt, all I saw was red.

But I’m still alive. When I woke up this morning I saw a single daisy in the midst of gravel and mud, and it reminded me of you. You’re surrounded by horrible people and an awful environment but you remain brilliant. I’ve never met anyone like you.

If I don’t make it, just know how much I truly, deeply love you, and you’ve made me the happiest man alive. My days with you are memories I’ll never forget.

See you soon baby.

- HS

Below was a small daisy taped carefully onto the bottom of the page, and you cried looking at it once more before folding the letter back up and stuffing it in the pocket of your uniform.

“Any news?” One of the nurses said. Another sighed and shook her head.

“All radios are down. No one knows a thing.”

“Its been almost a full day,” You mumbled. “I think we’ve lost the war.”

A gloom of realization spread across the room, nurses and doctors with a defeated expression. It was silent, and everyone seemed to zone out until one of your close friends sat herself down on a chair next to you.

“Has he written?” She whispered.

“No. I’m starting to think-”

“Don’t say it,” She scooted closer to you. “He’s okay and you know it. You’re his sunshine, remember?”

You smiled sadly, “I do, but he hasn’t written in a month.”

“Maybe he can’t find paper,” She shrugged. “Or a pen.”

“Maybe he’s-”

“We won! We won the war!”

Everyone abruptly stood, chairs screeching against the tile floor. You quickly ran down the hall along with other nurses and into a different room. Others were already hunched over a small table that held a working radio.

“Our men are coming home!”

Cheers and cries filled the air, and you stood frozen as many wrapped their arms around you in joy.

Word was that the veterans were to return in a train arriving in about an hour, and you wasted no time in slipping on your jacket and running with many others to the station. You couldn’t even be bothered to remove your uniform, the love of your life was finally coming home.

Upon arrival, people were buzzing with anticipation and happiness. Personal space didn’t seem to be a thing as everyone waited for the train to pull in, and once it did, the shouting commenced.

Man after man came hopping out of the train, beaten up expressions but nonetheless with a smile on their faces, yet none of them were Harry. You stood on your tippy toes to get a better look, but you were still overrun by the people in front of you.

You couldn’t help but smile as you saw a woman with two kids clutching onto a soldier next to you, their children’s small arms wrapped around their father’s legs. You thanked your lucky stars that at least they got their happy ending, and pushed yourself through the crowd to get to the front.

It became apparent after a little while though, that you may not have gotten your happy ending. As the area dispersed and became empty, your vision blurred with tears. You couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to believe it.

He said he’d come back, you thought.

A gust of wind blew through your hair, and you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself for comfort and for warmth. You screwed your eyes shut and tilted your head back, tear drops slipping into your hair. In the midst of feeling the warm sun caress your face, you imagined Harry calling out to you in the distance, calling you his little darling again just like he’d done many times before.

Except you hadn’t.

When you opened your eyes, a tall figure stood a couple feet away from you, and you rid your eyes from the remaining tears to see who it was.

“H-Harry?”

He smiled warmly at you, tears pricking the corner of his eyes.

When he got off the train, the sight of you standing there, wind whirling through your hair with your head tilted back; sun adorning your features and a pained expression, was a sight hard to forget.

But as he looked at you now, doe eyes wide that gleamed of hope and disbelief, the days out on field and the awful deserts meant nothing to him. The days of treterous fear, the cold nights where he felt nothing but alone, meant absolutely nothing to him.

But you, you meant everything to him.

“Hey little darling.” He said gently, fingers reaching out to touch yours. The warmth that radiated from your hand brought him back to reality and reassured him that he wasn’t dreaming.

At his words, you breathed out a laugh and threw your arms around his neck, and Harry in response scooped you up off the ground, taking note of the familiar strawberry scented shampoo you always used.

“I thought you died,” you whispered in his ear.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily baby cakes.” He said playfully, kissing your cold cheek.

You laughed and pulled your head back to look at him. He looked as handsome as you remembered, but he looked so worn out. The bags under his eyes and slow blinking clearly indicated that he was exhausted, and you smiled warmly, softly kissing his cheek.

“Let’s go home.”

Home.

What he’d been waiting for. The place he wanted to share with you, the place where he wanted to wake up and one day find the smell of pancakes and honey smothering your shared bedroom, and maybe, just maybe, with two little hands grabbing at his face to get him to wake up.

He nodded at you then, fingers laced with yours as you walked along the train station. The setting sunlight highlighted Harry’s green eyes; and they were soft, looking out into the streets ahead of you that held nothing but love yet still vigilant, and you were reminded of your grandmother once more.

“Harry?” you called suddenly.

“Yes, little darling?”

“How come you didn’t write to me these last few months?”

He smiled at you lazily and gently brushed your hair over your shoulder, running a soothing hand over your lower back.

“Couldn’t find paper, my love.” He hummed, “Or a damn pen.”

[saltine-kakyoin]

OH SHIT!!!! my clown ass never saw that u rb'd those ask posts, i was Looking at my notifs to see if u would so i could send u some but SOMEHOW I MISSED IT??? clown hours.... ANyways for the emoji one have 🤗💙💘🍀😇 and 👍 (tried to not do repeats from your ask 2 me cause they all apply anyways but, Regardless) and for the questions post, maybe 5, 11, 12, 17, 20, 23 and 25? ;__;/ ily so much and i hope u have a rlly lovely night!!! and that this coming week is kinder 2 u!!!! 💖💖💖💖

ahhh, it’s no worries!!! idk about you but for me, tumblr has been having the Time of Its LIFE lately wrt notifications and most disconcertingly, unfollowing people! D: so i completely get it, it’s no worries!!! ;w;/ i already know for a Fact i’m going to write so so much, so i’m gonna put this under a readmore >w< ruth 🤝 sarah respectful lesbian moments

edit: so I finished writing it and it’s Insanely Long- just in case you don’t make it to the bottom, thank you mein broth-er!!!! ; O; i hope you have a wonderful night too!! writing all of this out made me reminisce on some really nice times, and I’m having an a1 night! ^^ ilysm! it’ll probably be daytime when you read this, so i hope you have a great day! <3

🤗 given the chance I would gladly hug you

on god!!!! ;___; i think i would frfr dissolve if a got a Ruth-Certified hug, things have been so overwhelming lately

💙 you are my closest friend

the feeling is mutual!! <3 we don’t always get to talk often, but fhdhshg when we do we talk about like All of the Madness in Sarah’s Mind^tm, and you are so patient + tolerant of my incoherent ramblings which is something i don’t think i’ve ever fully experienced? anyhow, after a year (more than a year?) of having these kinds of convos and going through the general madness of life together, I totally agree ;w;

💘 I love you so much

i love you too!!! so so much!!! 💃🕺 i don’t think words will ever be able to express how much i love and appreciate you! 💜💛

🍀 i’m lucky to have met you

i know we talk about this often, but seriously i feel the same way! it’s a little crazy that we met, technically, because Joseph Joestar tm deserved more than to be a cheater... there is something hilarious about this wild friendship rooting from him!! of all jojos!! 🤢 but i’m so grateful that we met, it’s been such a wonderful ride ;w; <3

😇 you’re a sweet cinnamon bun

🥺🥺🥺🥺 bro i- fhdhghdhgh thank you!!! ;o;

👍 you are fun to be around

ahhh, thank you!!! i am glad you feel this way bc whoo boy, i think some other people would look at the madness i tell you about and go 👁️👁️ that’s a no for me, luvs. remember last year when i was losing it tryna prepare for ren faire + i cut my palm on that one glass bottle? bc a- i barely do and b- i feel like that moment encapsulates the nicki minaj roman holiday-ness of my life XD i’m really grateful you’ve stuck around through it all 🤗💕💖

now buckle in bro!!!! the essays are incoming!!!

5. Name a movie that makes you genuinely laugh.

i swear on my life the Mortal Kombat movie from 1995 is a national treasure, it is SUCH a solid movie and has so many funny moments. Robin Shou makes such a 🥺🥺 Liu Kang, and jesus fuck he can be so savage when the script calls for it!! there’s one part where he takes Johnny Cage’s luggage and straight up fucking chucks it into the ocean + then bullies him about it later! honestly the Ballad of Johnny Cage and His Luggage is one of my favorite parts from the movie <3 if you haven’t seen it + you like cheesy, old school movies, i really recommend it!!!

11. Describe the memory of the last time you felt true happiness.

So I can’t remember the last time I did, bc my memory is horrifically terrible + probably getting worse as time goes on?? but i will tell you about one of the more recent times I remember! :D There is one crucial expository note for this memory- my brother-in-law makes THE best chili in the entire world. my brother and I were trying to recreate it because it’s such a simple but delicious + filling meal- I think this was our first time trying to create it? and it was SO chaotic, the tomato sauce and stuff kept popping and burning me and we weren’t 100% certain that we’d gathered the right ratios for the ingredients and it was just. madness lmao. Chance’s chili is one that you leave alone for multiple hours at a time (I think this is the case for all chili but i don’t cook often enough to know ;__;), and we were kinda 👀👀👀 because we weren’t sure it’d turn out right? But it did!!!! I vividly remember when it was finished and we taste-tested it + went oOOH FUCK! it wasn’t quite the same as chance’s but ohhh my god it was so good 🥰🥰🥰 but yeah!! we ate it all up and I think this was around the time I started my playthrough of Esteban for Dragon Age 2? which was one of my favorite playthroughs for the entire franchise... he’s just a simple ig beard model mage ;w; i wanted to show you what he looked like in this post but the formatting went wonky so ig i’ll just post him separately?? it’s 1000% in-character for him to infiltrate my jojo blog 😔

12. Name a song that makes you feel ethereal.

hm...I’d say it’s between Forget About or Feet of Clay! They’re both such light and tenderhearted songs, and when I listen to them I feel like I’m in an apartment kitchen slow-dancing with a love, and it’s so dark except for the slowly rising sun. I don’t know if that feeling could be described as ethereal? but it’s close enough for me

17. What is something you own that is important to you? What makes it so important?

I have a small collection of scripts from the shows I’ve been in, and two of the most important ones are from the plays my high school put on during my sophomore and junior years, The Nit-Wits and The Musical Comedy Murders of 1940, respectively! The Nit-Wits has a ton of sentimental value to me because it was the last show I genuinely acted in, and it was a show we had to pull together in 2 or 3 weeks!! We were originally going to do a murder mystery play for the fall, but none of the cast was feeling it and it just wasn’t going to come to life in time (honestly this speaks volumes for how much we weren’t vibing with it, because all of our shows came together at like.. the final dress rehearsals if not opening night lmao). I vividly remember we took a vote during rehearsals about whether or not to switch the show, and then we did and it was SO fun + chaotic!! My character was one of the only regular characters in the show, but I think everyone else had a lot of fun acting as actors who were hired to be maniacal, and that made acting off of them so fun! I remember there was also a night my friend Adonis almost tore the entire set down because he ran through a door and tripped over a set brace in his haste!! The Nit-Wits is hugely important because it was a really fresh acting experience for me, and again, my last time genuinely on the stage and not behind the scenes!

MCM is important to me because it was the first play I ever stage managed! I’d stage managed our musical the spring prior, but that was a huge undertaking and involved many different people and moving parts. Stage managing a play, at least at my high school, was a calmer and more intimate experience, and one I really enjoyed! Another huge reason I treasure MCM’s script is because it is one of the last shows I had with my friend I told you about- he was a senior. I have little notes and doodles from the cast and crew scattered throughout my book for this show, and I remember being so irritated by this because it meant I was losing space for stage directions, cues, and notes. Now, I’m super grateful to have these scribbles- it’s one of the only things I have left of him. 

On that note, relating to him, MCM is also the show which birthed my most horrific theater horror story!! During one of the performances, I guess he forgot his line?? idk. But he ended up jumping six pages ahead of where the current scene was (I knew this bc I was following along in my book backstage + was frantically trying to figure out where he’d gone), which threw the entire cast, who were all tragically onstage, way off-track. This resulted in the most frightening game of script ping-pong I’ve ever seen: he’d skipped six pages ahead, so Adonis ended up saying a line from two pages after the six-page skip, and somehow someone else went!! oh I have a response to that line! And then said something like 9 pages back! I think the lead actress tried to ground everyone back to the lines they were supposed to be saying, but she ended up just saying a lot of their lines? And one of those lines that was supposed to be said by someone else was supposed to cue a black-out that someone got murdered in, but my lighting techie was SO fucking lost (we were both huddled over the script next to the breaker trying to figure out WHERE the hell we were! i think i had a flashlight in my mouth so I could flip through the book with both hands and thus faster??), so ofc the lights stayed up! I remember getting through this scene being the most painstaking endeavor of my entire life, but thankfully intermission was right after it! We actually extended intermission because the cast needed a hot second to fuckign RESET for Act 2 bc sweet jesus that was so bizarre...Needless to say, after that show we never messed that scene up again + everyone who acted in the show became super anal about knowing their lines as the years went on. The Six Page Skip became a legendary part of our hs theater Canon (like biblical canon ;w; although I don’t think anyone’s talked about it since my class graduated) alongside the times one of our ensemble dudes had to break through the roof of the girl’s dressing room to retrieve the keys to the theater + i got stuck on stage!

20. What’s the sweetest thing someone has done for you?

I really had to wrack my brain to answer this one, as I’m generally not the person people do things for, you know? This answer goes wayyy back, to 8th grade :O but so! there is mild exposition for this- when I started middle school, I lived in North Carolina, but we moved to Florida right before 7th grade bc my grandma is ill. We lived with my uncle while we were looking for a house, so I went to the local middle school bc why wouldn’t I? but in November, we finally found a house + my mom was like....So... are you going to switch schools or...I’d struck up some really solid friendships in this time, so i was like Mom I’d Rather Die OAO. So, we struck up a deal that I’d get to stay at that school on a zone waiver + that she’d drive me to school everyday. Sometime closer to the end of eighth grade she was like, yeah so.. I can’t do this for high school, it’s too much gas- which was valid! I was really sad about it, but I sucked it up.

Anyhow, fast forward to the last day of eighth grade, which was perhaps the saddest day I’d lived up until that point, mostly bc I knew I was probably never going to see all my friends again. My best friend, who I was like hardcore v close to + the person I shared all my wacky AUs and OC’s and headcanons with, was waiting with me for my mom to come pick me up, and then!!! When my mom pulled into the school she suddenly whipped out this lengthy letter she’d written to me about how much she enjoyed my friendship and how grateful she was that we were able to have lunch together (lunch was.. tragically ;__; the only time we really saw each other that year), and that she would never forget me! And she’d drawn me a ton of fanart from all the things I was obsessed with back then!! it was so much so fast, but then my mom was yelling at me to get in the car and I had to go :(

We kept in touch through email freshman year + fake-dated bc a senior was stalking me? ;J; and then we went to Megacon together! but I became really heavily involved in choir and theater after that, and we just kind of drifted apart :( we do follow each other on ig tho! It’s insane to think about her and that letter because on GOD ruth, that was a thinly veiled love letter and I never like... wrote her anything back that was as worthy as what she wrote me. But, she’s doing really well in uni now, so I guess it’s all okay? idk! ; o ;

23. What’s your zodiac sign? Do you think you fit the general characteristics of that sign?

I’m a Cancer!! and also a metal dragon by the Chinese Zodiac, which I’ve always thought was pretty sick! :3 I am 10000% your stereotypical Cancer, super emotional and introspective + often prone to tears ;u; My mom always said that dragons are steadfast and loyal people, and I think this also applies to me, to a fault. I checked around some websites to see what characteristics were often applied to metal dragons specifically, and it seems they are pretty strong-willed, ambitious, and generous? I don’t know if you could call me strong-willed or ambitious, but it’s all good ig.

25. What’s a song that gives off good vibes anytime you listen to it?

Ohh man, I went in on this question for Shannon, but bc I was digging around my library for Jules, I actually found an old fave! This song is from one of my all-time favorite musicals, Once on This Island- it’s The Human Heart! This song is so sweet, and god between the writing for the orchestra + the writing for the ensemble, this song is a straight masterpiece <3 I love love love the line, “Through your love you’ll live forever”, and although I am Hardcore Terrified of getting a tattoo, I really want that line tattooed on my body. if you have time, I recommend giving Once on This Island a listen!! I’ve never heard a show that uses its instruments and singers the way OoTI does (and holy FUCK it is so breathtaking live!!! I got to see it on Broadway and bro.... 🥺🥺 it was transcendental..)

[alternis-dim]

haha whoopsies time to ramble about my brain

I’ve been thinkin abt my mental health a lot recently and man. man. it really sucks that I’m not diagnosed for a single thing even though both my mom and brother were, and I guess I can only attribute that to the fact that I was never “struggling” with a nice healthy helping of eldest daughter syndrome. because now that I’m in college and living in a new place and have that fresh perspective, it’s kind of ridiculous that I’ve just been living like this for years???

 I really just went  through all of high school with super frustrating social anxiety, struggled with executive dysfunction for ages because I didn’t have a word for it, went through on and off months of depression without ever having family check in on me. and I just assumed that shit was normal and that I was lacking some “spark” that everybody had but me. it took me too fuckin long to learn that people don’t analyze their conversations line by line before they talk, or that people don’t dwell for days on a slightly dismissive or frustrated response, or that “procrastination” and “desperately wanting to get work done that I know needs to be finished but I just. can’t. start. and it’s driving me mad” are two completely different things. 

and especially this year, I’ve been looking back on my life and realizing that ADHD is probably a way bigger part of my life than I ever realized, even though I only started to suspect I have it a few months ago. it explains so much, from my fidgeting to my racing thoughts to my terrible focus and memory. it explains why I always felt like I was “slower” and lacking something compared to my classmates, as I watched them somehow manage sports, clubs, jobs and good grades. my mom nagged me for years asking me why I seemed to take so much more time to finish things. and hey, I finally have an answer! good old executive dysfunction, which I now realize has been ruling my life since middle school. not only has it always been a pain in the ass for schoolwork (my brain does NOT register things as urgent until the last moment, at which point I can finally focus and do it all in one sitting, but this was not especially practical in my last couple years of HS), but god, it’s been taking away things I love for years. I have to beg myself to start art or writing or music, I have to rely on hyperfocus to actually be able to finish video games, and almost nothing I read can hold my attention anymore. it sucks. it really sucks. I feel trapped in my head all the time.

just. now I’m living alone but I’m too anxious to seek a diagnosis, even though a counselor here told me that I did in fact score really high for anxiety and depression on screenings, because my nerves have gotten so bad that I’m terrified of the idea of wasting someone’s time and making a fool of myself. I’m even more anxious about the prospect of seeking an ADHD diagnosis, because I graduated high school as the goddamn Salutatorian and STILL do honors courses here. I feel like I’m going to get berated (or worse, accused of trying to get a diagnosis to abuse the meds), and that’s so terrifying to me. but I’m even more terrified by the fact that I just feel like it’s only a matter of time before I crash and burn, and that people are only going to be willing to help once I’ve lost my scholarships and wasted a fuck ton of money.

I dunno. I’m just sitting here super pissed about the fact that my family never gave enough of a shit to get me help and now I feel trapped in my head lol

[herdeepesthoughtsblog]

Life Lately

Happy Chinese/Lunar New Year! I’m supposed to post entry for TSC last Jan 30, but life gets in the way! The last week of Jan was full-packed, at least for me. It was a hella busy day filled with anticipation and fun memories with friends. 

Yes, I hang out with my hs besties. Will share more of it later. So, forget about the date discrepancies, I’ll just write as it is. 

Here we go!

CURRENTLY

READING: The 4-Hour Work Week by Tim Ferris. You know, I kind of have a love-hate relationship with this book. Actually, I am rereading it. First time I laid my hands on it was 2020 or is it last year? I don’t know, this book has a huge ego at its back, but I am taking every advice/tips with a grain of salt. You know how typical self-help book works.

WRITING:

Fresh morning pages from my journal entry.

LISTENING:

All Too Well (Sad Girl Autumn Version) by Taylor Swift. The long title cracked me up every time, but hey, I’m on acoustic Sunday mood. (I’d like to say I just switched from Toni Fowler x Makagago’s RAP SONG - Fake Friends.) #slaybhie not a fan but, curious what the fuss is all about. #opmisdead

THINKING:

About the goals I set for January, what was achieved and what was not (but in progress) too much self-torture later when I plan for Feb goals.

SMELLING:

Onion minced (pungent, sulfurous, onion-garlic type) Papa is cooking at the moment and I’m at a near kitchen spot. Wonder what he’s up to.

WISHING:

January to end! Haha! I don’t know, is it just me? I felt time’s moving so slow, at least for the month of January. Maybe because I have a lot of free time lately that I might be bored or aren’t looking forward to something?

HOPING:

To secure a job next month or within Q1. Update from my last panel interview, well, it went good. And just being shortlisted for a panel interview (2nd step) I’m utterly grateful already. I can’t believe I had experienced this amazing opportunity of a lifetime. I hope I’ll get through the next and final employment step (exam assessment) Tbh, this is really my dream job and I hope they will really consider me to offer me the role. If I’ll grade myself from my last performance, I’ll give myself a 9.5 since I do think and feel that I did my best and I performed to the best of my ability. Oh HR Gods and Goddesses! Please grant me this one already!!!

WEARING:

Peach V-neck tee and cotton shorts.

NEEDING:

A complete 8 hours of sleep + money. So, since I only have my side-hustle to sustain my living, it’s still not enough. I badly need a job right now to put my financial goals into reality. I’d considered many options but I’m trying to weigh it better and see for myself what and how it will work for me. *hoping for the new job to come and save me hah!

I spend the weekend watching the latest Spiderman movie with my high school besties. Not a huge marvel fan but I went through just because I miss these two, they’re my other set of friends in hs back then. It was fun, we reminisced about hs, shared our plans for the future, catch up with our current life, etc. 

Meeting them again was unbelievable. I mean, our last bonding was 6 years ago. We weren’t complete that day, we still have one other friend. We used to label our friendship #DAMS. Hahaha silly high school stuff. But catching up with them feels nice, we may have a lot of going on in our own lives, but I’m glad that we’re still friends, we just pick up where we left off. 

I felt like they hadn’t change (not in a bad way) The mannerisms, the way they talk, seeing them and hanging out with them feels like I’m back in high school. 

Surprisingly, I was fully-charged and energetic that day, I talked a lot, I even shared my resentments with them, my resentments in hs. This is like a big step up for me. Sharing my intimate thoughts with people whom I friends with but haven’t talked or saw frequently. We just know that we’re good friends within, and that’s more than enough. 

FEELING:

Renewed and calm. Definitely, there are points in my life that I want to keep the door shut and preferred to never talked about it again. But there are also points where I want to keep coming back for more. Surprisingly, I had the courage to do both and I felt like a mature adult.

I’m fighting anxiety by calming myself through meditation and stream of consciousness journaling.

Excited for February to kick in because I am claiming and manifesting that the new job is coming! My life is about to begin once again! It’s a new year after all, a new and perfect opportunity to turn things right and do things I missed last month.

I hope you start the week right and for February to be kind to you. Let me leave you a quote:

Happy Weekend! Cheers to a brighter and better February! Kung Hei Fat Choi!

[mf-despair-queen]

Never Let It Get Personal - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen​

Characters: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 16,419

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Multiple Orgasms, Fingering, Bondage, Oral (both receiving in the form of a 69), Sweet Sex because I’m a sucker for their romance???, Sassy reader, violence and blood because they are assassins.

Notes: Why do I do this to myself? 16.4k later and it’s done. But I really liked this idea. It’s a lot of plot with a smidge of sexy smut because I love Mitch Rapp. But he’s also hella loving. And angry. And I owe @minhosmeanhoe a lot for talking through this idea with me. She is a saint and my Rapp twin. I love her. I hope you guys love this and think it’s worth it.

Heartbreak | Noun | heart·break: crushing grief, anguish, or distress.

Mitch sighed to himself, running a hand through his unruly hair. Hadn’t he been through enough torment in his short lifetime? Only twenty-two years old, and he already lost everyone he was ever close to. It was rare for him to reminisce about those he had lost, but sometimes, late at night, the thoughts creep in to torment his already damaged mental state.

He laid on his cot in the Barn, his eyes drifting to the time in the upper corner of his phone, reading the white numbers. 1:34 AM. Mitch groaned quietly, shuffling under the blankets, peeking around to make sure no one else was awake. The others slept soundly, getting as much sleep as they could for their early, four AM wake-up call.

Mitch rolled over on the cot, resuming what he had been doing for the last hour. Going through old pictures on his phone, watching videos at a low volume of things that used to make him happy. He sighed to himself, closing his whiskey orbs, letting the memories pass over the backs of his eyelids.

He thought back to happier times, remembering the fun times he had as a child with his parents. Birthdays with them, vacations with them, just general good times. Until he got the call into the office one day at school, the principal having a sullen look on his face when he told the news to the young boy. He was only fourteen when he lost his parents.

His life should have fallen apart from that moment, instantly shipped between different boarding schools because of his “increased behavioral issues.” The only thing that made anything bearable in his shithole of a life was one person. His best friend, the girl who never left his side, no matter how shitty things were or how much of an asshole he became.

You were always by his side.

He knew you, literally, since birth. Everyone used to joke that you were inseparable, even in the womb. You went through thick and thin together. He could easily say you were the one to singlehandedly hold his heart together after the accident, encouraging him through everything, pushing him to stay strong. You were the only reason he took his full-ride scholarship to Syracuse for lacrosse, and it was only because you were going for a track scholarship and agreed to room with him. He knew he could count on you.

He knew you were different, and you held a special place in his heart. You were his best friend. Hell, he wouldn’t argue that you were his first love. You were his first… everything. First friend, first kiss, first roommate out of high school, and even his first of many times. He was afraid to go further with you, but even more afraid of losing you when he started seeing Katrina.

Katrina never was quite the same. As amazing as she was, she wasn’t exactly… well, you. He loved Katrina will all his heart, but he loved you more. However, he was resigned that he had no future romantically with you, afraid of the rejection you would bestow on him. So, he put everything into his relationship with Katrina. Even then, you were there for him, his heart aching, yearning for you to stop him.

He asked you for your blessing the day he was set to leave for Spain, holding his mother’s ring up in front of you, the silver glinting in the sunlight streaming through the blinds. He prayed that you would tell him no, to tell him that you wanted to be with him. But you just smiled, kissing his cheek, giving him a thumbs up before shooing him out the door so he wouldn’t miss his flight. He sighed to himself, wanting to clear his mind of the thoughts of you and thinking of his future he was bound to have with Katrina.

You were by the side the entire time he was in the hospital when he returned, Katrina-less. He was heartbroken from his loss, but you still held his heart together, keeping him strong as he recovered. He kept you out of the loop as he began to plot his revenge, wanting to avenge the hundreds of people, including his fiancé of twenty minutes, that were gunned down mercilessly. He saw the way you looked at him in worry, but he always assured you that he was alright.

He had one regret in his life, and that was the argument he had right before you left on an overseas school trip to Rome roughly six months after he lost Katrina. It was a silly argument because he had gotten drunk one night after returning from his usual gym and gun range runs. You didn’t like seeing that side of him, but he yelled at you, claiming that you didn’t know what he was feeling. He knew he was in the wrong when he awoke the next day, but he never got to apologize.

The tour you were on just outside the city was attacked by some terrorists, killing everyone on the bus. It was reported that no one survived. With that news, his heart completely shattered into a million pieces. He had lost his fiancé. He had lost the girl he loved more than anything without telling her his true feelings or apologizing. He had nothing left to hold him together. His heart hardened into cold stone, his sole focus on eliminating all threats from the world.

Mitch blinked back a few tears, surprising himself that he was even tearful right now. He hadn’t cried in over a year, not since he found out that you were gone. He scrolled through various pictures on his phone in the midst of the darkness of the Barn, bypassing ones of him and Katrina to find your smiling face. He finally clicked on a short video, making sure the volume was low enough that he could still hear it without waking anyone.

You were holding his phone, walking through your tiny apartment, playing with your hair. “Mitch left his phone in the bedroom,” you whispered, probably not wanting to draw his attention. He could see himself in the background on the couch, reading through a book, attempting to learn Arabic. “He’s been so busy with this Arabic class I guess, but he needs a little distraction.”

The video jostled in your hand as you shuffled over to him, yanking the book out of his hand and dropping onto his lap, his face coming into view next to yours. He rolled his eyes, letting out a small groan. “What are you doing, Y/N?”

You smiled into the camera, leaning against him. “You’ve been really distracted as of late, so I figured I would get one small laugh out of you. Plus, you can never have enough memories of us together, Mitchy. That way, when you are a big businessman, you remember your best friend for life.” Mitch cracked a small smile, shaking his head. “There’s a smile. That’s all I needed.”

“You’re a dork, babe,” he said.

“I know, but you love me,” you replied. Your hand reached up to play with the scruffy beard he was developing, glancing away from the camera at him. “You also need to shave. You’re more handsome with a trimmed beard. Just a bit of scruff to leave beard burn on a girl’s thighs, but not too long to look like Santa.”

“Duly noted,” Mitch joked, looking away when you placed a kiss to his cheek.

That’s where the video ended. He looked longingly at the image of your lips on his cheek, his heart jumping inside him. If only things were different.

“Mitch, shut off your phone and get to sleep. We have to be up and running in two hours,” someone called out from across the room. Mitch sighed, closing his photo gallery. His stared at his wallpaper, a picture of you both at the beach a year before he met Katrina. Hs arms were around your bare waist, placing a kiss to your cheek, your eyes closed and hands holding his. It was the night he took your virginity, and you took his. It held a special place in his heart.

He finally locked his phone, setting it aside and closing his eyes, attempting to get some sleep. Though sleep never came. Mitch was forced out of bed at his normal time, running around Hurley’s property with the others, doing his daily routines of strenuous exercise, gun practice and fight practice.

His day was thrown for a loop when he was told to visit Hurley. He was relieved of his duties, heading back to the barn to change into a fresh pair of jeans and tight black shirt, keeping his beat up black shoes paired with his new clothes. He jogged from the Barn, around to the steps to Hurley’s large forest home, bounding up the stairs two at a time. He rushed through the halls into Hurley’s office, knocking on the door.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Mitch asked, Stan turning to face him. The older man motioned for Mitch to sit, Mitch stiffly sitting in the chair across the table from him. A laptop was open on the table, Stan typing a few things on the keyboard. “You’re not showing me more videos of Katrina, are you? I’m not in the mood for that shit again.”

“I’m not,” Stan’s gruff voice came. He sat in a chair, staring with a stern look at the chocolate-haired male across from him. Stan rubbed his face in annoyance, groaning softly. “You know, a lot of the guys have brought up that you’ve been up at night a lot lately. They see you on your phone at odd hours. Reminiscing of the past, Rapp?”

Mitch swallowed dryly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down as he did. “No, sir,” Mitch replied quietly. “I just can’t sleep, so I’ve been on my phone till I can relax. Nothing about the past involved.”

Stan chuckled, obviously not convinced. “Right. Then, what about the pictures?”

“Pictures, sir?”

“Of Katrina. Pretty girl you had, Mitch. But you already knew that. That’s why you proposed.” Stan paused, sizing up Mitch’s reaction. “Or, what about Y/N? The best friend you grew up with?”

The computer was spun around, a video from Mitch’s phone playing. You were clad in just one of his button up shirts and some underwear, standing over the stove as you made breakfast. You didn’t know he was recording as he sat at the table, chuckling to himself. After a minute, you turned to him, blushing at the sight of the phone he was holding.

“Mitch, are you recording me?” Your perky voice came, Mitch fully laughing from behind it.

“But of course. You just look so cute when you are making breakfast like this. Do I want to know why you are wearing my shirt though?”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the stove. “All of my clothes are in the washer and I spilled beer on my clothes last night. This was the first shirt I could grab from your room.”

“Well, you should wear my stuff more often,” he joked. “You look amazing in them.”

You laughed, tossing a blueberry his way. He remembers catching it in his mouth, a smile breaking out on your face. “Stop being a cheeseball and set the table.”

Mitch growled as the video ended, jumping up in his seat. “This isn’t fucking funny anymore! Why do you keep rubbing these things in my face?”

Stan glared at the man, shutting the laptop. “Because you need to get over it, Rapp. You’re still weak. You want to become one of us? Grow the fuck up,” he grumbled deeply.

Mitch jumped onto the table, throwing a wild punch at Hurley who stepped back, grabbing the computer wire and wrapping it around his neck. Mitch was pulled from the table onto the floor, Stan holding the wire tightly around his neck. Mitch attempted to lessen the weight on his neck, gasping for air.

“I told you to never let it get personal. And what are you doing? Letting it get personal!” He screamed, finally letting Mitch go. The trainee rolled onto his side, coughing and heaving for precious oxygen. Stan knelt down, facing him with a hard stare. “You will get yourself killed if you let your personal feelings get in the way of a mission. Do I make myself clear?”

Mitch stayed silent for a second before finally looking up at him, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

“Good, now get packed. We are scheduled for the next flight to Istanbul. There is supposed to be an arms dealing involving a trigger for a nuclear bomb someone is building. We are to intercept the deal to prevent the production o this bomb. You are coming to cover my ass,” Stan muttered, Mitch vacating the room without as much as a rebuttal to his boss.

Betrayal | noun | be·tray·al: the action of betraying one’s country, a group, or a person; treachery.

The short, brown-haired man waltzed into the dark room, tugging the beanie atop his head off and scratching at the beard he had trimmed that morning. He watched the body in the room squirm under the blankets, groaning to himself. With a quick yank of the curtains, sunlight streamed through the windows. The bright light filled the large room, the man’s green eyes landing on the mound of blankets on the bed.

“Get the fuck up, Y/N. I didn’t bring you here to let you sleep the day away,” he said bitterly, tugging the blankets down with one hand. Your head poked from the confines of the soft fabric, glaring at him.

“You brought me here because you’re a douchebag and can’t let a girl get her beauty rest. Just because you saved me in Rome and trained me to protect myself doesn’t mean I need to wake up at odd hours to help you with your stupid antique trading,” you retorted, pushing the blankets off regardless.

“I should have let you die with the others then,” he mumbled, sitting in a plush chair in the corner of the hotel.

“You wouldn’t do that, though. I’m too important because I’m fucking amazing at my job, Ghost,” You told him, glancing at him through the mirror. Ghost rolled his eyes, slouching in the chair. “I thought you’d see it my way. You need me to finish this bomb.”

You walked into the bathroom before Ghost could reply, stripping off your clothes and sitting on the edge of the bathtub. You thought back to that day, remembering the gun held to your forehead, shallow cuts from different knives lining every part of your skin. You were the last one alive of everyone on the school tour because the terrorists that attacked the bus got a different response from you. You were resilient, whereas everyone else jumped to try and save themselves, ending in a quick demise.

The man holding the gun to your head spoke quietly to the others, your ears unable to discern what language he was muttering in. His finger itched on the trigger, your eyes closing with resolve that you would no longer see the light of this world. You would never finish school, have a family or kids, or even tell Mitch you were sorry for everything.

When the shot rang out, you felt no pain. Your eyes cracked open slowly to see the men around you glancing around frantically, one by one dropping dead with bullet holes in their foreheads every time another shot went off. By the time the last one fell, you attempted to clamber to your feet, your hands tied behind your back. A man emerged from the dark underbrush, a rifle strapped to his back and a mysterious glint in his eyes.

“I saw the way you fought back,” he had told you as he untied your hands. “You know, the American Embassy was notified of the attack and they did nothing. They left you to die. How does that make you feel?”

“Angry,” you remember came your short reply.  Ghost had smirked at you, his hand on your cheek.

“Good. Let’s channel that anger so you can show them that you aren’t to be forgotten. Do you want to be strong, girly?”

You didn’t deny him. You were mad that your home did nothing to stop these people from killing harmless civilians. You weren’t going to let that go. They were going to let your life go like it didn’t matter. So, if this man in front of you could teach you the ways to sow them it wasn’t something to fuck with, you would give him your everything.

“Hurry up! We are meeting Sharif soon for the trigger. You can pretty yourself up later,” Ghost said through the door, his fist heavily pounding on the polished wood. You sighed, gathering fresh clothes from the cabinet in the bathroom, primping yourself to look somewhat decent.

You were rushed from the hotel, Ghost close on your tail. He told you the plan on the car ride over to the restaurant. You were going to help keep an eye out while Ghost got the trigger from Sharif. He handed you a pair of knives, saying that guns would be too obvious. As soon as you had arrived, you hid your knives in the back pockets of your jeans, perching at a table near the edge of the restaurant.

It was quiet, Ghost approaching Sharif at the bar. You scanned the crowd of people, spotting a large, burly man shuffling towards the bar. “Man approaching, six o’clock. Most likely armed. He has a hand under the back of his jacket. Tap the bar if you got that,” you mumbled into the radio attached to the collar of your jacket.

Ghost tapped his fingers once, pocketing the device and turning on his heel, keeping his head down. He was walking directly by the burly man, unsheathing a knife from the apron he was wearing as a disguise. One slip of the knife into the gut of the man, and he was brought down, Ghost pilfering the Beretta from the man’s waistband. Removing the silencer, Ghost glanced around, looking for a sign of back up for the dead man.

“Something’s wrong,” you heard someone mumble not far from where you were sitting. Ghost must have heard it too, his gaze shifting in your direction. You glanced around, spotting a body standing from their chair a few tables away. Your eyes narrowed at the dark-haired man, breath hitching slightly in your throat.

“Mitch?” You said louder than you meant. His eyes shot to you, the whiskey colored orbs widening when they locked with yours. “No way…”

“Y/N? He questioned quietly, taking a few small steps in your general direction.  

Ghost must have noticed what was happening, shooting off the gun that he acquired from the dead man behind him. A few quick pops of the Beretta and the crowd was sent into a frenzy. You remained frozen in your spot, Mitch dropping to the ground as Ghost fired a few rounds at him. You saw the gun in Mitch’s hand, his eyes trying to make sense of the fleeing people.

Ghost’s hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you from the restaurant and down an alley out of sight. Your back was slammed into the wall, Ghost’s furious look evident in front of you. “What the fuck was that?” he sneered, his eyes flaring in his rage.

“I-I don’t know what happened. I thought… I thought I knew him. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” you mumbled. You were still rattled, and fearing Ghost would realize that you had lied to him. You didn’t think you knew him.

That was Mitch fucking Rapp in that restaurant. Holding a fucking gun, targeting your boss.

What the hell did you miss?

Ghost pushed himself away from you, huffing. “You better not let it happen again, or I will kill you. Sneak back to the hotel and pack up. We are headed back to Rome to get our scientist to finish the bomb. And keep your eyes peeled. The CIA is running around. Because that man you say you thought you knew is Stan Hurley’s pupil. The new me.”

Ghost walked away quickly, leaving you alone in the abandoned alleyway. You slunk to the ground, running your hand through your hair. “Fuck. Why is Mitch here?”

Hostage | noun | hos·tage: a person seized or held as security for the fulfillment of a condition.

It felt good to be back in Rome. The sun was setting over the beautiful city, lights flickering on as you made your way through the winding roads. You were meeting up with Ghost at the designated hotel the nuclear physicist he hired was staying at. You were warned to be apprehensive, Ghost more than sure that Stan Hurley, his former teacher, would be around.

And that just meant Mitch was not far behind.

Sighing, you bounded into the hotel, tugging you jacket closer to your body, trying not to arouse suspicion to yourself. You slipped through a small gap in the closing elevator, repeatedly tapping the floor you needed. You wanted in an out of this hotel before Mitch showed up because you weren’t sure how you would handle seeing his face for the second time.

The door was ajar when you arrived, closing it quietly behind you upon entering. Your slid the leather jacket off your shoulders, hanging it on the rack by the door, letting your feet carry you further inside. Ghost stood against the wall, eyeing you as your fully entered the room.

“We have a little pest in the room next door,” he mumbled, nodding towards the wall. Your eyebrow rose, not knowing what he meant. He shifted towards the wall he pointed out, crouching down to take a closer look. It was hard to see, but Ghost had trained you well to spot subtle things like this.

A small camera had been fed through the air conditioning unit on the wall, just enough that whoever was on the other side could get a perfect picture inside the room.

“Hurley?” You asked after turning back to Ghost, seeing him shake his head.

“His pupil. Some punk named Mitch Rapp?” He said calmly, picking up a file from the bed. “He has someone with him, but I think it’s someone they assigned to work with them when they showed up in Istanbul.”

“Is that so?” You asked his quietly, stepping back from the camera in the wall.

“Yup,” he said, emphasizing the p. His eyes roamed the open file, an evil smile on his face. “Did you know he went to Syracuse the same time you did? Parents were killed when he was in his early teens. Fiancé was killed in Spain a year and a half ago. Poor kid.”

Your eyes hardened, trying to keep your heartbeat steady. One wrong move and Ghost would figure everything out. “He went to Syracuse? What a coincidence. Must be a lucky school to have bred two cold blooded killers.”

Ghost stood from the bed, walking over to you. “Just a coincidence? Then explain the pictures of you two together,” he bluntly said, holding up a picture of you on his back after one of his Lacrosse games. Your throat instantly went dry, staring up at the brunette.

“I-I can explain, Ghost,” you started trying to say, Ghost shoving you roughly into the wall, his hand on your throat. Your nails clawed at his tight grip, but to no avail. It only seemed to get tighter, cutting off your flow of oxygen.

“You lied to me back in Istanbul. You won’t be lying to me again. Are you with me or against me, Y/N? Because if you are against me and want to crawl back to that pathetic creature in the other room, I will gladly kill you both with my bare hands,” he snapped, his glare harsh.

“I’m… with you,” you managed to straggle out, gasping for air. Ghost nodded once, releasing his hold on you. Your ass hit the ground hard, your hand flying up to your neck as your coughed, wheezing slightly.

“Good. My men are already apprehending him and his little partner next door. I am going to ask your friend rather politely to tell me where Stan is. As soon as I find that out you will kill him.”

Your eyes widened, looking up at the man who saved your life in the past. You stumbled to your feet, leaning against the wall for support. “What? I can’t kill, Mitch! He’s my… I mean he was my…”

Ghost’s hand appeared aside your head, fiercely looking down at you. “Do you have a problem with killing him? He left you for dead, Y/N. He never came looking for you. He’s just like everyone else. They use you until you are no longer useful then dump you like last week’s leftovers.”

Your gaze hardened, shuffling slightly as you spoke up. “Ghost, I have killed fifty-three men for you covertly since you started training me.” You pulled your un from your waistband, glancing at the man looking haphazardly out the window holding a rifle. Aiming without a second glance, one quiet pop later, a bullet was embedded into the man’s skull, smoke seeping from the silencer attached to the barrel of the gun. “Actually, make that fifty-four. I’ve eliminated threats and men that have come so close to exposing you. Would me killing Mitch Rapp make big difference?”

“Yes,” he spoke quietly, stepping away from your body. “Because killing Mitch fucking Rapp will show your complete allegiance. And show that you are 100% over him. That you are no longer in love with him and won’t let him tie you down.”

Ghost walked away, leaving you alone. In love with Mitch Rapp. Did you still love him? Of course you did. Did you want to return home with him? Of course you did. Did you ever act on these feelings? Of course you didn’t. You were too afraid then, and you were too afraid now. Especially now. Things would never be the same.

You shook your head, your body trembling with fear. There was no possibly way that you could bring yourself to shoot Mitch. He was, and always will be, your best friend, even after everything that had happened. But you couldn’t let that show now.

The door swung open, multiple footsteps sounding in the living room area of the suite behind you. Two thumps were heard, Ghost’s other disciples yelling for Mitch and whoever he was working with to put their hands behind their heads. You placed your gun back in your waistband, slowly heading for the doorway.

You leaned on the frame, taking in his looks now that you had a better chance to look. His shirt rode up slightly from his position on the floor, his familiar happy trail peeking out of the black fabric. Veins protruded from his arms more than you remembered, but hell, you weren’t arguing. It was one of his best features. Your eyes locked on his dark, whiskey brown orbs, looking away when you realized you had been staring and catching his gaze. His look had been hard, but something sparkled behind it. He was trying to keep from acting rashly. Stan had warned him multiple times on the way to Rome not to let his emotions get out of hand.

“You’re sure it was her,” he had asked Mitch multiple times. “Then, you remember what I told you about not letting it get personal? Now this is the time to remember that. You let it get personal, you let your emotions out, you let your endless love for this girl get the best of you and you will find yourself in a casket buried 5 feet under. Because I will not bail you out.”

Ghost walked in front of the two for a second, leaning down to look at Mitch. “Tell me, Rapp. Where is dear old Stan Hurley? He’s got to be near. He wouldn’t let his pup out of his sight.” He stared into Mitch’s dark eyes, speaking calmly once more. “Hurley, Rapp. Where is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking-“ Mitch started, getting cut off by a slap in the face. His head turned to the side, letting out an almost inaudible grunt from the impact. Your eyes clenched shut unconsciously, taking a deep breathe to keep from saying anything out of line.

He turned the Mitch’s companion, a young girl with fair skin and dark hair. “How about you, sweetheart. Where is he?” When neither answered, Ghost began to get furious, yelling loudly, “Tell me where Stan Hurley is!”

“Ghost, calm down. Yelling won’t make them talk,” you told him, finally looking up. Mitch’s eyes shot to you, fighting to keep a frown from appearing on his lips.

“Well do you have any better ideas?” Ghost sneered. Your shrugged, walking closer to the group.

You stood in front of the two hostages, eyeing the girl carefully. “I don’t think she will help. She doesn’t care about Stan. She has her own agenda.” You got close to her face, smirking at her. “What’s you deal, princess? What’s in it for you to help stop us?”

“Y/N,” Mitch mumbled, catching your attention.

“What, Mitch? Why are you even here? You didn’t care back then. Why care now?” You snapped, moving to face him.

“I’ve always cared,” he mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyes locked, your false confidence dropping slightly. “Just tell him what he wants to know. Please. I can’t protect you if you don’t tell him. Where is Stan, Mitch?”

Mitch kept his mouth shut, hearing you sigh in response. You backed away, sitting on the couch, sighing. Ghost groaned nearing the two again, stopping short when the door was kicked in. The older man waltzed inside, gun in hand, shooting a few of the men you worked with, their bodies falling limp on the tiled floor.

Your mouth fell open, watching Mitch and the girl beginning to attack the people behind them, fighting off the men in the room. You glanced at Ghost, nodding him towards the window. “Go!” you yelled at him, pulling out your gun. “I will be right behind you.”

Ghost nodded, locking eyes with whom you presumed to be Stan Hurley before jumping out the window, using the flag on the pole outside to slide down to safety. You turned back to the scene in the room, coming face to face with the girl Mitch was with.

Your eyes widened, raising the gun to shoot at her, her hand shooting up to knock it away on instinct. The gun flew from your hand onto the floor, the girl yelling at Mitch. “Rapp! Gun!” She turned back to you, holding your wrist tightly. “Aw, not so tough now, are you, girly? All talk I guess. You know, I never got why Mitch talked so highly of you. He told me a lot about you and him while we were alone in that hotel room together. Something you won’t ever get with him I guess. He probably doesn’t love you that much anymore since you are so easily replaceable,” she said lowly, a smirk present on her face.

You growled at her. “What the hell do you know? There’s no way he would go for you anyway.”

“How would you even know that?” She glared at you.

“Oh, you’ll see, sweetheart,” you whispered, twisting your arm to break free of her grasp. Her eyes widened, your arms wrapping around her waist to tackle her to the ground. You wrestled with the girl on the ground, blood seeping into your clothes and skin from the dead bodies around you. You were too focused on clawing at the unknown girl, not hearing the gunshots from Mitch shooting the last few men or his footsteps as him and Stan rushed over, pulling you both apart.

You were only seeing red until his voice cleared the air. “Y/N! Stop! Calm down!” Your body relaxed in his arms, listening to him whisper things in your ear to calm you. “That’s right. Relax.” You went limp in his arms, allowing him to tie your hands behind your back and place you on the couch. His hand was on your cheek, wiping some of the blood away from your skin, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

Stan cleared his throat, motioning for Mitch. The man in front of you sighed, glancing at you quickly before moving away. The girl stopped him, her hand on his muscular bicep, rubbing it softly. “Are you alright, Mitch? Anything I can do to help?” She said, obviously trying to rile you up with her bad flirting. Mitch didn’t take it though, shrugging off her hand. His gaze turned back to you, his eyes showing emotions he didn’t have when he was looking at her.

“Just go pack everything up from our room, Annika. We will be moving out here soon and can’t waste any more time. We’ve wasted enough time because you decided to cat fight with my girl… with Y/N,” he stated bluntly, disappearing out the door with Stan. Annika’s face fell, watching after him.

You let out a small laugh, her eyes focusing on you. “This is what I meant, bitch,” you mumbled. “Even after all this time, he still cares about me. You are just temporary. You don’t know him the way you think you do.”

“Oh, and you still know him after being gone so long?” She snapped, crossing her arms.

“I’ve known the man the entire life, lady. Assassin for the CIA or not, he’s still the same Mitch I know and love,” you told her calmly. “Besides, he’s been deeper inside me than he ever will be with you. You know why? Because you’re just a shallow bitch that doesn’t understand what is really going on. You don’t care to know Mitch. You might act like you know him or care about him, wanting to be with him, but you don’t. You have your own agenda.” You paused, looking over at her. “You know, if you’re this shallow, I’m sure you pussy is too. It’s no place for a cock like his, not like he will ever fuck you like he has me,” you sassed at her, her mouth falling open at the constant wave of insults.

She glared, taking a few steps towards you. “You little bitch,” she started, getting cut off when Stan and Mitch walked back in. The room fell silent, Stan roughly dragging you outside. You were thrown into the back of a black car, unable to see where you were being taken. Your mind reeled, trying to figure out what was going to happen. Were they going to interrogate you? Were they going to kill you? Were you going to go home with Mitch?

Would you be able to apologize to him before anything happened?

The car came to a halt, Mitch and Stan shuffling from the vehicle. You heard their muffled talking, carefully using your foot to crack the car door to hear them clearly.

“They’ve outsmarted us twice now, sir. Who is he? Why’s this guy after you? Something personal, sir?” You hear Mitch sneering at Stan.

“What about you, Rapp? Your little girlfriend in the back seat. I told you not to let it get personal, yet you’re up close and personal with her in the hotel after tying her up? I should kill her right now.”

Your heart stopped, fearing the worst. You were going to die here. You weren’t going to get to talk to Mitch again. You weren’t going to see the morning light through your window again. You weren’t going to have a family one day. Your life was over.

“No,” Mitch said quickly.

“No?”

“We shouldn’t kill her.” Your face flushed, body warming at his words. He was sticking up for you? “If she’s this guy’s right hand woman, she should know what he’s planning and where he’s building the bomb, right? We can get information out of her.”

That rat was trying to sell you out, wanting to interrogate you? Your heart cracked, unable to believe what you were hearing.

“We don’t have time for that. We have Ghost’s physicist in the trunk that I have to question too. Annika already left to inform Irene of our location and what has been happening. The CIA should be here tomorrow where your little girly will be escorted back to the States to be tried for treason,” Stan replied.

“Let me question her then.” It got silent, and you assumed, Stan was giving Mitch a harsh, stern look. “I can do it, sir! We need to stop Ghost before something happens! Trust me.”

“Fine. You have till the morning. Whatever you find out, report immediately. Get her inside,” Stan murmured.

“Of course, sir,” came Mitch’s short reply before the door was tugged open. You glanced up, seeing Mitch looking down at you with a hard look. He tugged you out by the ankles, throwing your limp body over his shoulder.

“Woah,” you squealed, Mitch grabbing his bag from the floor and heading inside the hotel you had apparently arrived at. “You know, Mitchy. As much as I love this reunion, I didn’t picture it being me staring at your ass. Though your ass looks great in these jeans,” you told him cheekily. You got no response, your slight smile falling. “Take a joke, Rapp. Why so serious?”

No response again. Mitch just kicked open a hotel room door, the door swinging shut behind you. You were thrown onto the bed, bouncing slightly on the springy mattress. You rolled over, struggling to sit up, watching Mitch tug the torn black shirt over his head, wincing slightly. He had a few cuts on his chest and ribs, a particularly deep one on his side. You spied the scar above his right pec from Spain, memorizing the hardened muscles he developed over the past year.

“You’re hurt,” you stated blatantly.

“No shit, Sherlock,” he snapped, grabbing a first aid kit from his bag. He fumbled with a gauze and medical tap, cleaning the major wound he had with an alcohol swab.

“Well, untie me and I can help dress it,” you told him.

“Hell no. I don’t trust you,” he mumbled. Your insides stung, feeling your heart drop into the acid of your stomach.

“Why are you being such a dick, Mitch? I thought you were my best friend!” You yelled at him, scooting to the edge of the bed so you could get up. Walking over to him, you stared up at him, his eyes refusing to meet yours. “What happened to the sweet you before we left the other hotel? What happened to the man I’ve known forever? Why did he suddenly become a cunt?”

He slammed the medical supplies down, turning to face you with a hard look. “What happened to the girl I know? She turned into a cold-blooded killer! She became a wanted criminal! She became a jealous bitch that apparently has to taunt others with the fact that we’ve slept together.”

Your face fell, looking down at the ground. “You heard that…”

“Yeah, I heard that. Didn’t know I was a piece of meat for you,” he snapped, stepping closer to you. Each step he took, you took a step back, your back finally colliding with a wall. “Here’s the deal. I will untie you long enough for you to help patch up this wound. Then, you tell me everything you know about Ghost’s plans and where he is hiding. If you cooperate, they will hopefully lessen your sentence.”

You didn’t reply, nodding once, Mitch reaching around to untie you. You grabbed the gauze from the table, motioning him to sit down. It didn’t take long to patch up the wound, Mitch relishing in the feeling of your soft fingers on his stomach. He knew he had to stay strong, not letting his feelings for you affect getting you to talk.

You sat back on the bed, facing Mitch, your eyes locking together briefly. “Alright. Spill everything you know. What is Ghost planning. Where is he building this bomb?”

You glanced down, mumbling lowly after a few moments, “I won’t tell you.”

“What?” Mitch said, standing up. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“It won’t change anything, no matter what you think. I’ve killed people, Mitch. I’m not the same person you knew. Nothing will change what happened and how I feel,” you told him. He stared at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, explain this then. Why did you start working with him?” Mitch asked.

“Why did you started training profusely after Katrina died? Why did you join the CIA?” You snapped, not meaning to sound as harsh as you did. “When bad things happen and only you can change things, you find whatever means possible to achieve them. You want revenge? You work to get it. And that’s what we both wanted. I was left for dead, Mitch. No one came for me. Not even you.”

“Y/N,” he started, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know. I was told you were gone. Just… you need to tell me everything you know. I know you’ve been hurt, but it doesn’t need to be like this. If you say nothing, you are going to die.”

“There is no changing anything, Mitch!” You finally snapped. You got off the bed, approaching him. “You don’t get it. I’m as good as dead no matter what! I go home, I die! I go back to Ghost, I die! So, fuck you, Mitch. You didn’t bother to come for me when I needed you most, so I’m not going to bother to help you when you need it most.”

Mitch was obviously growing frustrated, grabbing you by the arms and slamming you into the closest wall. “Just fucking tell me, Y/N! I’m trying to save your life, so stop being a stupid ass bitch and tell me something useful!”

“I’m not telling you a god damn thing,” you scoffed at him. “You say you’re trying to save me, but you’re doing this for yourself. You’ve only ever cared about yourself! So, fuck off. I’m not telling you a single fucking thing.”

“Fuck! Why are you being so fucking stubborn?” He asked to no one in particular. “You’re going to fucking tell me, Y/N, whether you like it or not. Where is Ghost?” His hand landed on the wall beside your head, his eyes hardening, narrowing at yours. When you gave no reply, he slammed the wall roughly, creaming loudly. “Tell me!”

“No,” you said shortly.

Mitch growled deeply, your body twinging with arousal at the noise. It was a noise you had never heard from the handsome man, but it was perfect in your ears. You glanced at the arm beside your head, staring at his tense biceps, veins producing down his forearms to his hands. His pecs flexed as the growl escaped his throat, your body unwillingly growing warm.

This was not the time to be turned on.

Mitch grabbed the front of the tight blue shirt stained with blood you were wearing, lifting you off your feet. “Hey!” you screamed at him, feet flailing around for some form of footing. You silently cursed being shorter than him in this time. “Let me down, Mitch! What are you doing?”

“Just tell me where he is, Y/N!” He yelled back.

“No!” You yelped, finally landing a kick on his shin. He inadvertently dropped you, your body scrambling on the floor for the door. Mitch groaned in pain, ignoring it to tackle you, your bodies wrestling on the floor for dominance. Every chance you got, you made a move for the door, Mitch able to stop you before you got too far.

He grabbed your ankle, causing you to fall forward, Mitch dragging you into the bathroom to keep you trapped. You kicked around in his hands, trying to free yourself, failing miserably at his strength. You were lifted from the floor and shoved into a wall, your eyes wandering to anything but his. The bathtub was filled with water, probably prepped by the hotel staff before your arrival.

“Tell me,” Mitch said, voice husky from the constant frustration and fighting. “This is your last chance.”

“And I said no. I said fuck off, Mitch,” you told him sternly.

Your eyes met his, his whiskey eyes darkened by pure, unadulterated anger. He growled like before, pulling you back to slam you against the wall before turning on his heel, dunking you under the water.

Your eyes burned from the water around you, making out his blurry figure above you, holding you under the water. Your lungs burned, craving air already. Your body struggled against his hold, nails attempting to claw at his arms, legs kicking aimlessly in an attempt to loosen his grasp on you. Nothing seemed to work, however.

You were pulled from the water, gasping for air, barely able to focus on your surroundings when his voice piped up. “Tell me what you know, Y/N!”

You gasped slightly, shaking water from your face and water. “Fuck off, Mitch.”

Wrong answer, you guessed. Without another word, you were shoved back under the water, your body aching more and more the longer you were pushed under the water. The process repeated two more times, Mitch’s anger fueling his actions. His mind was blank, only focused on the need to get information, not the potential consequences it was going to have.

You were pulled from the water again, coughing on the water you had swallowed, tears ready to leak from your eyes. Your body was giving up on your, and you weren’t sure how long you would last. “Alright! Alright…” your barely got out of your mouth, panting for air. “I will tell you whatever you want. Please, Mitch. I’m sorry.”

Mitch heard your apology, his hands starting to shake in his hold on your shirt. He stared down at you, your battered and broken body. The battered and broken body of the girl he loved. He had done that to you. He was finally able to process what happened, and he hated himself for it.

His hands slowly released your shirt, letting you sink into a sitting position in the tub. He fell back, looking down at himself. The floor and his jeans were coated with water from your constant splashing and his forcefulness shoving you under the water. He was completely disgusted with what had happened.

He carefully glanced up at you, your head turning to meet his once you had caught most of your breath. “Y/N, I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…” he rambled, trying to keep some composure. The look on your face broke his heart. “I just… I don’t know what came over me. I’m the worst friend.”

“I didn’t know we were still friends,” you murmured, cracking a small smile at him. “I mean, we are trying to kill each other.”

Mitch chuckled, shaking his head. “Fuck, I missed your dry sense of humor.” He leaned forward, taking your hand in his, squeezing it lightly. “I really am sorry. For everything. I didn’t know you were alive. If I had known, I would have… done something. Instead I trained because I wanted to take down whoever killed you. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Mitch,” you whispered. “What a fucked up way to live. Best friends for life, right?”

“There’s that humor again,” he chuckled, standing up. “Just um… you may want to get yourself cleaned up. You’re a mess now.” He made his way to the door, gripping the handle tightly.

“Your fault, Rapp,” you called, standing up slowly, the water dripping from your limbs, clothes stuck to your body. He turned to look at you, his breath caught in his throat at the sight. It was wrong to be attracted to you in the heat of everything. “And you know Mitch, you looked rather sexy being in control like that. I’m sure any girl would drop their panties in a heartbeat if you want to tie them up in bed and take control like you did with me.”

Mitch felt his pants tighten, hustling out of the room without another word. The door shut behind him, Mitch collapsing on the floor against the wall opposite the bathroom. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing loudly. “God damn. Stop being amazing.”

He silently sat engrossed in his thoughts, listening to the shower run inside the bathroom as best he could. Which wasn’t very great apparently, seeing as he didn’t hear the water shut off, or the door opening up in front of him. He only processed what was happening when he looked up at you, water dripping from your hair, clad in just a green thong and partially see-through green lace bra. Mitch’s dry mouth fell open, gaping at the sight.

“W-what… where are your clothes?”

You shrugged at him, walking into the bedroom, Mitch staring at your ass as your walked, admiring your firm, round cheeks jostled slightly with each step. “My clothes were a little wet thanks to someone and their need to get information. Plus, they were covered in blood, Mitch. And I kind of don’t have spares.”

Mitch got up from the floor, rounding the corner to see you hunched over the bed, rifling through his bag for clothes. Your ass stuck out, Mitch’s fingers itching to caress the bare skin. It had been so long, he just wanted to hold you close.

Though his hardened cock was telling him he wanted to hold you in different ways.

You left his arms wrap around your waist suddenly, his body acting on his own, tugging your body back against his bare chest. You looked up at him, noticing the dark glint in his eyes. “Mitch? Are you alright?”

“Do you have any idea what you are doing to me right now?” came his deep, husky reply. His face burying in your neck. Soft kisses were placed on your skin, Mitch tightening his hold on you. “You can’t just walk around in nothing but your lingerie especially when your bra is see through. I can see your tits perfectly.”

His hand slid under the lacy bra, clamping around your breast tightly. A low moan slipped off your tongue, knees going weak against him. “Says the man who is walking around here shirtless. You’re not exactly the ugliest person in the world, Mitch,” you managed to get out. Your inability to focus was rising, Mitch’s strong hand kneading your breast consistently, his face buried into your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin. His teeth san into your neck, biting at it, hearing you squeal and curse. “Fuck, Mitch.”

“God, I’ve missed feeling you,” he mumbled, spinning you to face him completely. His hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs over your reddened cheeks. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

You bit at your lip, noticing his eyes glancing between your eyes and your lips. “I’ve missed you too, Mitchy. You have no idea how much I thought about you this past year.” You paused, staring up at him, watching his tongue pass over his lips, wetting them. “Shit, this is so wrong. We’re enemies, Mitch, yet all I want to do is kiss you.”

Mitch chuckled deeply, shaking his head. “Is that all you want to do?”

Shuffling your feet, only one word left your mouth. “No.”

“Is it wrong that I want it too?”

A longer pause. “No.”

Mitch’s hands released your cheeks, resting at your sides instead. “Is it wrong if we actually do it? It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your mind contemplated the statement for a second, finally giving in without a second thought. “Fuck no. This is too right.”

As if they were magnets, Mitch’s lips were on yours, his hands under your thighs as you jumped on him, legs winding around his waist. Your arms messily looped around his neck, almost accidently punching him in the face in the process. He didn’t seem to care, or notice even. He was too focused on kissing you, moving his lips against yours, leading you into the sexiest kiss you ever shared. A spark ran through your body, your entire body tingling from his kiss. You were officially on cloud nine.

Mitch pushed his bag to the floor, not caring if his contents spilled out. You were dropped onto the bed in a heartbeat, your lips only disconnecting for a single second before Mitch was on top of you, your lips moving rhythmically against each other, parted enough that your tongues could battle for dominance inside your mouth. His hands roamed your body, removing your bra from your frame without you noticing.

Mitch fumbled with his belt, never taking a moment to break the kiss your shared. The sounds of your lips smacking against each other filled the room, covering the sounds of his belt buckle coming undone, the leather pulled from the loops. One large, veiny hand moved both of your arms above your head, the other securing the belt around them quickly.

You pulled away from him, feeling the leather tighten around your wrists. “Mitch. What the fuck is this?”

“You wanted me to take control like before, didn’t you, Y/N? So, be a good girl and keep your hands right there,” he said, his tone low and deep. Your body squirmed under him, arousal pooling between your legs from his words.

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled, back arching off the bed as he kissed down your neck to your chest. Your body squirmed from his light touches, jolts of electricity running down your spine when he finally attached to your sensitive nipple. “Shit, Mitch.”

He kissed at the hardened peak, his fingers tugging at the other bud aimlessly. His lips tugged at it, his tongue skillfully lapping at the bud. Your mewls reached his ears, a grin of satisfaction befalling his lips against your skin. Your hips bucked into him, bound hands reaching down to entangle in his silky locks.

Mitch pulled away abruptly, pushing your arms back above your head. “What did I say, baby?” He mumbled, dark eyes locking with yours. “Hands. Stay. Don’t. Move. If it happens again, I might need to punish you.”

“Like you could,” your taunted, legs clenching. “The big, bad CIA assassin. You were barely able to keep me down before. If we were in an actual fight, you’d be downed in a second.”

“Is that what you think?” He sneered, ripping the side of your panties, and tossing the fabric clear across the room. “You want to bring that up? Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t want to kill you?”

“But when you see red, Mitchy. You could have drowned me. But you didn’t. You know why?” You asked. “You’re a pussy.”

“Oh, baby,” he smirked. “You really need to be quiet. Use your mouth for something better. Like screaming my name like every time I’ve fucked you.”

“Oh Mitchy. I can do more with my mouth than that,” you joked, wrapping your legs around him and using all of your weight to flip him. Straddling his waist, body bare for his view, you looked down at him, smirking at his wide eyes.

“Oh, that was hot.”

You grinned, shuffling down his body, situating yourself at his groin. Your bound hands struggled to unbutton his dark jeans, the zipper getting caught whenever you attempted to tug it down. “Dammit. Come off,” you mumbled to yourself, Mitch laughing at your frustration. You cast him a glare, huffing slightly. “Shut up, pussy.”

Mitch shook his head, pushing his jeans and boxers off for you, kicking the material off the end of the bed. You grinned, running your fingers along the length of his stiff cock, watching it twitch under your feather-like touch. You admired his length and girth, licking your lips at the sight of his precum oozing from the tip. You had every intention to hold it, stroke it, suck the daylights out of it. Everything you wished to do to him on a normal basis before Katrina came into the picture.

Mitch had a different plan. He leaned forward, his hands gripping your waist and spinning you around to straddle him. His hands slunk down to your hips, tugging you back until your dripping pussy was in front of his mouth, his lips attaching to your swollen clit instantly. You moaned loudly, falling forward against him, cheek nuzzling against his shaft. The man that was an inch from killing you less than an hour ago shoved his scruffy face in your cunt, kitten licking your folds, shoving his tongue deep inside your pussy to taste your juices.

You moaned, throat vibrating against him, Mitch moaning against you. Your hands gripped at his length, shakily wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, lapping at the sensitive underside. Your head bobbed at the same rhythm as his licks, his fingers replacing his mouth so he could focus on sucking your clit. The faster your bobbed, the faster he pumped, fingers curling into your sweet spot as your traced the throbbing, protruding vein on his length. Your nose would bury in the dark hairs at the base of his cock, letting the tip tap at the back of your throat. His scruff scraped at your folds and thighs, a delicious burn you didn’t regret forming.

Mitch pulled away, wiping his chin clean of your juices, having to force you off his cock and back onto the bed. You were pushed onto your stomach, Mitch positioning himself behind you and tugging your ass up against his pelvis. His hand rubbed at your ass cheek, placing a loud smack to the skin. When you let out a throaty moan, Mitch grinned.

“You like that, baby? You like when I’m rough with you?” He said, his gruff voice covering the groans he wanted to release at your whines and whimpers. His hand whipped across your ass again, a small scream breaking the silence in the room.

“Fuck, Mitch. Just fuck me already,” you whimpered, fingers twisting into the sheets under you.

“You want my cock inside you, baby?” He asked, his tip rubbing against your soaked core. “You want it hard? So hard, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow? You want it deep? So deep, you are seeing stars? You want to cum? Cum so strongly that your body withers and writhes under me, coating my cock like you used to? Is that what you want, baby?”

“Yes, sir,” you mewled, pushing your ass back against him. “Fuck me like you did before you dated Katrina. Make me scream for you like you used to.” Mitch’s heart wrenched at the mention of his deceased fiancé while simultaneously swelling that you wanted him so bad, to go back to the simple time when it was just you guys experimenting with your likes, spending hours at night with his cock inside you, screaming and cumming for each other.

Mitch’s fingers dug into your ass cheeks, his hips bucking forward until his cock was hilt deep inside you, your walls clenching around him at the sudden intrusion. Your face buried into the bed, tears prickling the corners of your eyes, attempting to adjust to his large size. He had grown since the last time you slept together, though it probably didn’t help that your only occupant since that time was your trusty vibrator. The least you could say was that you had missed this feeling, and you loved that he was back inside you.

Mitch didn’t waste time, his hips pulling back slowly and snapping back into you with great force. His thrusts were quick, pounding his cock into your pussy at godlike speeds. The sound of sweaty, slapping skin filled the air, your moans and screams getting lost in the bed. The occasional sound of Mitch smacking your ass as he thrust joined the sex-filled room, Mitch groaning and grunting.

“Fuck, babe. You’re so tight,” he whispered, eyes closing to relish in the feeling around him. “You feel so much better than Katrina ever did.” The words weren’t meant to come out, but it made your heart jump all the same. You knew he didn’t mean to say that aloud, but you loved that was how he felt. You hoped it was more than just the sex, but the sparks between you guys gave you hope that he felt something more than the friendship that was everlasting between you.

His hand darting forward, twisting into to your hair, yanking back forcefully. Your moan filled the room, your body shaking violently. You weren’t used to sex with Mitch being this rough, but you loved it. His cock pounding into your battered cunt, hitting your cervix and g-spot every time he burrowed back inside you. His constant slaps to your ass, causing your core to tighten and leak mounds of fluids onto his shaft. His hand yanking at your hair so he could hear your loud moans and screams of his name. His consistent groans and grunts of satisfaction whenever his cock twitched inside you, telling you he was close to his end. His hands held you tightly, leaning forward to suck dark marks to your neck and back.

You were bound to have countless bruises tomorrow.

His thrusts grew sloppy, his shaky hand reaching around to rub your clit. “Come on, baby. Cum for me. I need to feel you cum for me.”

“Y-yes, sir,” your straggled voice came, huffing loudly. A few rough snaps of his hips against you, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles to your clit, and your limbs gave out. Mitch had to hold your hips in place as your collapsed onto the bed, your body wracked with violent spasms. Your back arched, toes curling into the sheets, loud screams of his name bouncing off the walls. Your pussy hugged his cock, your vision going black with your orgasm, fluids splattering your walls around him, moistening his length.

Mitch groaned at the feeling around him, tugging himself free from your tight cunt. His fist wrapped around his erect shaft, rapidly jerking himself until streams of hot cum spewed from the tip, painting a mosaic of his juices on your sweaty back. He moaned, your name befalling his lips in a low voice, the last bits of his cum landing on your ass. He panted heavily, scratching at his scruffy chin, listening to your rapid breathing.

“That was amazing,” you mumbled, Mitch barely hearing you. He chuckled, nodding in agreement, not sure if you saw or now. He grabbed some tissues from the table by the bed, cleaning you and him of the white globs of sperm. He collapsed next to you on the bed, removing the belt from your hands and moving you to lay on his chest. You sighed happily, snuggling into him, inhaling his scent.

“You still owe me information you know,” he mentioned, chuckling quietly.

“Oh. Right. Well, I guess discussing the plans of a killer is good pillow talk, huh?” you joked, beginning to spill everything you knew about Ghost’s plans. Which, surprising, wasn’t as much as Mitch figured. There were bits of information that surprised him, but you kept one thing quiet from him: where Ghost was building it. Mitch figured you were withholding the information, but chose not to question.

Yet.

He shuffled off the bed, ignoring the sad look on your face. He grabbed his boxers from the floor, sliding them on quickly before grabbing his phone from his jeans. “I need to tell Stan what you’ve told me,” he whispered, looking over to see you sit up in the bed, wincing and holding the sheet to your chest. He shuffled over, kissing you quickly on the lips. “I’m sorry, baby.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone while he talked to Stan. You heard bits of the conversation, wondering what was going on. He told Stan the important bits you told him, Mitch groaning after Stan told him something you presumed.

“Irene will be here in the morning, Stan. What am I supposed to tell her when you aren’t back?” There was a pause, Mitch walking out of the bathroom slowly, rubbing his face. “Cover for you? Right. Whatever you say, sir.”

He hung up, sitting on the edge of the bed. You grabbed his hand, rubbing the top with your thumb. “Irene Kennedy will be here tomorrow. CIA Director, right?” Mitch nodded, not looking at you. “You can’t stop them from taking me away, Mitch. I’ve done bad things. It’s only right that they take me away and we will just have to see how the trial goes.”

Mitch sighed, finally looking at you. “If you had to choose between your anger towards the US government for leaving you for dead and helping stop Ghost so you can come back home with me, what would you choose?” He asked quietly. Your lips remained shut, knowing exactly what your answer would be. You wanted nothing more than to be with Mitch and if it meant returning to the home of your betrayers, you would. But you couldn’t easily say that aloud to the operative next to you. You needed to do whatever you could to protect him. “You’re my best friend. You know that, right? I’m not ready to lose you.”

“You won’t, Mitch. I’m not leaving you again.”

Sometimes, you wished you could believe that.

Pain | noun | \ˈpān\: usually localized physical suffered associated with bodily disorder (such as a disease or an injury); Acute mental or emotional distress or suffering.

You sat in a chair, hands cuffed in front of you, watching various people from the CIA shuffling around, trying to gather information to determine where Ghost was. Your eyes shifted to Mitch, talking with Irene Kennedy in a corner. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it clearly wasn’t good based on the scowl written on Mitch’s features. He would run a hand through his hair, grumbling before talking back to her.

Your eyes were brought back to a man, whom you heard someone call by the name of Edward, walking over to you, his hand roughly pulling you up by the arm. You stumbled in his grasp, your already sore body from the prior night screaming at you. “Let’s go, sweet cheeks. You have a one-way ticket back home, straight to maximum security prison. Hope you like your life sentence,” Edward sneered, tugging you in the direction of the door.

“With all due respect, sir,” you said, tripping you’re your feet in his haste, “you are hurting me.”

“Who gives a fuck?” He snapped, his hand wrapping tighter around your arm. You visibly winced, his hand squeezing a dark bruise you had gotten from Mitch last night. Mitch must have seen what was going on, breaking away from Irene to rush over.

“Hey, man. Lay off her!” Mitch yelled, shoving Edward off you. His outburst must have gathered the attention of everyone in the room, their heads turning and their actions halting. Edward glared up at Mitch, Mitch ignoring the look as he turned to you. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mitch. I swear, I’m fine,” you mumbled, gripping his shirt with your hands. “But you can’t be doing this. We’re enemies, remember?”

“Fuck that, Y/N. You’re my best friend first,” he whispered.

“And I will always be your friend, Mitchy. But, we knew this was going to happen. We can’t let our personal feelings for each cloud our judgment.”

Mitch sighed, looking down. Stan’s words echoed in his mind, growing louder with each passing second. Never let it get personal. He knew Stan had been right then, and he knew you were right now. But could anyone blame him for watching the love of his life being unfairly harassed? He just wanted you safe. He finally had you back in his arms just for you to be ripped from them again? He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

He needed you, just as you needed him. He wanted you, just as you wanted him. He wanted to go home with you, the way it always was, but he would make things right. He would find his mother’s ring, the ring Katrina wore when she was shot down, and give it to the rightful owner – you.

Edward ripped you from Mitch’s grasp, ragging you out of the room quickly. Mitch took a single step forward, ready to stop him again, when Irene cut him off. “Rapp! Enough of this. We have bigger issues right now, such as locating this bomb and securing it before Ghost can use it. He could kill thousands if we aren’t careful. First, we need to reconnect with Hurley.”

Mitch leaned on a counter, processing everything that he knew. He knew you had kept the location of the bomb hidden, and he knew who Stan had snuck off to see the night prior, telling Mitch to keep it secret from Irene. Though, the dark-haired man couldn’t keep the information to himself and had been the first thing he told Irene when she came out of talking to you herself.

Stan hadn’t been heard from since Mitch’s phone call. His gut told him that his asshole of an instructor had been captured. Ghost had a personal vendetta against the older man, and from what you had told him, Ghost would do anything to get back at him for whatever he did in the past. If Stan was captured by Ghost, that means he would find Ghost, Hurley and the bomb in the same location.

The location only you knew.

Mitch turned to look at Irene briefly, her back turned to him, running over some data with another operative. Mitch made his decision right there. He grabbed his leather jacket from the chair nearby, the one you had been sitting in, and a pair of car keys from the stand near the door, slipping out unnoticed.

He didn’t regret how recklessly he drove, hot on the trail of the car you were thrown into the back of. He sped through the streets of Rome, whiskey eyes narrowing on the black car he knew you were in. He didn’t think twice before he crashed straight into it, noses of the cars crunching together upon impact. He rolled from the car, yanking open the driver side door and dragging Edward out, punching him across the face a few times until he was out cold. He turned back to the car, your cuffed wrists secured around the second man, Damian’s, throat, the man’s face red as he went unconscious.

“Mitch?” You asked, finally moving off the man. Mitch nodded silently, grabbing the keys off Edward’s belt, yanking the back door open to slide in with you. His fingers fumbled with the key, twisting it in the small lock until it clicked, the metal clattering to the floor of the car. “What are you doing? Why are you here? And why are you freeing me?

He held your wrists, fingers rubbing over the red marks from here the cuffs rubbed. “You know where the bomb is. You know where Ghost is.” Your face paled, frowning at him. “You’re taking me there.”

“It’s not safe,” you muttered, keeping from looking at him.

“I know it’s not. But he’s building a bomb that could kill thousands of people. And I’m pretty sure he has my boss. I need to find him and stop him, Y/N. And I want your help,” he told you, using one hand to gently tilt your chin up to look at him.

“Does Irene know about this?” You asked lowly.

“Hell no.”

“Good. Time to go against the law some more, I guess,” you joked, straddling his lap as you got out of the car. Mitch groaned, feeling you press against him, mentally telling himself to keep his dick in his pants. “You coming, Mitchy?”

Mitch sighed, sliding from the car, grabbing your tiny hand in his large, veiny one, proceeding to drag you down an alley, out of the public eye. “As soon as we stop Ghost, and you get off for helping us stop him, you are fucking grounded. You are not leaving our room ever again.”

“Excuse me? Our room?” you asked, smile on your face and an eyebrow risen.

“Yup,” he said shortly, stopping to trap you against a wall. His lips skimmed yours, your breath hitching slightly. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

He kissed you softly, pulling away before you had a chance to respond. Your mind was fuzzy, confusion spiking inside you. His actions made no sense, though your heart leaped happily at the small gesture. Your fingers entwined as you slipped through the alleys, stealing a car on a road a few blocks away.

You directed him to the underground sewers Ghost chose to hide out in, parking the car a slight distance from the entrance. You saw a few men about, leaving in a car not long after you arrived. You gestured to the entrance, glancing at Mitch. “That’s it, right there. If Stan and Ghost are anywhere, it’s in there.”

“Good,” Mitch mumbled, pulling his gun from the back of his pants. “Let’s go.”

You shook your head vigorously, Mitch cocking an eyebrow. “I can’t. If Ghost sees me, he will surely kill me for ratting him out.”

“Don’t worry,” he started, voice soft. His arm wrapped around your waist, kissing your temple. “I will protect you.”

You smiled slightly, nodding slowly. Mitch grinned into your hair, taking your hand in his free one and leading you into the sewers. It was dark, barely lit, your steps faintly echoing down the long tunnels. You treaded carefully, keeping an eye out for anyone. Your hand clenched in his, afraid for his life and your own.

A giant metal gate stood in your path, a glistening silver lock and chain barring it closed. Your hand released his, tugging at the lock. “What the fuck? This has never been locked before. What do we do now?”

Mitch looked up at the gate, moving forward slightly. His muscular arms flexed as he pushed the gates apart, creating a small gap for you to slip through. Your small frame slid through easily. Mitch, however, couldn’t fit. His bulked-up frame was too large to squeeze through the opening, no matter how hard he tried. He frowned, looking at you.

“Just stay right there. We will figure something else out,” he whispered.

His heart broke slightly when you shook your head, taking a few steps backwards. “I’m sorry, Mitch. It’s for your own good. I’m so sorry.” Without another word, your turned on your heel, taking off down the dark corridor, ignoring Mitch’s calls.

You fought back tears, rounding the last corner to the main hideout. Ghost heard your rapid footsteps, looking over at you. Stan Hurley was hung by the arm with a chain, his other arm clasp by a device on the table. Hurley looked battered and beaten, blood dripping from multiple gashes along his body. Ghost’s ear was bleeding and you could only assume they had some kind of tousle while Ghost was ranting at his former mentor.

“Y/N? Why the fuck are you here?” Ghost sneered, grabbing his gun off the table. “You little traitorous wench. I should kill you right now.”

“I never told them the location of the bomb, Ghost. I got you Hurley though, didn’t I? The bits I did tell Rapp got you the man you wanted. So, what you should be saying is thank you,” you told him, sarcasm dripping off your tongue like venom.

Ghost shook his head, placing the gun back down. “So, I’m supposed to just accept you back with open arms? Is that what you expect?”

“No,” you mumbled under your breath, though Ghost’s trained ears caught the short message. “They’re going to be coming soon though. You need to get out of here. Now.”

Ghost chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing the bomb is done then, huh?”

It was only when he said that did you notice the dead bodies of the men that worked on the bomb along with the dead body of the person that originally hired you to build it. Ghost had always had another agenda. He accepted the task of building this bomb for some man that disliked the nuclear treaty between Turkey and America, but Ghost always knew he would use the bomb for his own purposes. What those were, you really didn’t know. You had resigned yourself to never questioning the man.

The faint sound of an explosion sounded, smoke beginning to fill the small area you were in. Ghost’s eyes narrowed on you, his fingers wrapping around your forearm and dragging you away, the bag with the bomb strapped over his shoulder. You heard the faint grunts of Stan, struggling to free himself, and Mitch’s voice as he rounded the corner, semi-automatic he must have pilfered from one of the men returning to the compound in hand. He was shouting for you, your heart wrenching at the sound of his distress.

Ghost shoved your forward when you were nearing the exit, forcing you to walk in front of him. “You’re a dirty little liar, Y/N. You tipped off Rapp.”

“I’m sorry. He would have killed me, Ghost,” you tried to reason, feeling the barrel of his gun press to the back of your head.

“That’s a load of horse shit. You still love him, and you will never stop. What actually happened last night when you were captured? You caused the marks on your neck?” You silently cursed the various marks that lined your body from your reckless activities, knowing you had been caught red handed.

“So what if I love Mitch? Not like he will ever return the feeling. I’m just a good lay for him I guess.”

“Is that what you think?” you heard his deep voice break the darkness, taking slow steps towards you and the former CIA operative. “That I wouldn’t love you? That I just wanted to fuck you? God, you’ve always been oblivious.”

You were forced around, looking at Mitch as you stood next to Ghost. “Rapp. I wish I could say it is a pleasure to meet you, but it’s not. Especially now that you are going to die.” The gun rose, steady while he aimed. “Do you have any last words?”

“You’re not going to get away with this,” Mitch said flatly, his voice showing no signs of faulting. “I will stop you. And I will kill you.”

“Wrong answer, Rapp.”

Your eyes widened, Ghost’s finger closing in on the trigger. “Ghost, no!” You screamed, grabbing at the gun, attempting to wrestle it from his grasp. You knew you couldn’t overpower him, seeing as he had trained with the CIA in the past. But you had to do something. Your fingers wrapped around the barrel of the gun, deflecting the barrel downwards, away from Mitch’s body. Ghost glared, your bodies battling for control of the gun, your bodies struggling to overpower the other.

Mitch watched you attempt to fight off the experienced killer, unsure what was happening. When a song rang through the sewer opening, his eyes widened. His ears were ringing loudly from the shot, his blood pumping faster.  Your body separated from Ghost, Ghost turning and bolting quickly, your hand moving to your stomach slowly. When the shaky limb was pulled away, Mitch stopped breathing.

Blood.

He rushed forward, catching your body before it fell, blood seeping from the hole in your abdomen. Your hand pressed to the wound, attempting to put pressure on it, wincing from the pain that was consuming your body. “Fuck, Y/N. Y-you’re going to be ok,” Mitch mumbled, moving some hair from your face and applying more pressure to your wound. You groaned, a few tears leaking from eyes.

“I’ll be ok, Mitch,” you gasped out, Mitch not believing a word you uttered. He could see the pain on your face, fear flooding his core. “Please, Mitch. Go stop him. He’s going to kill people. That should take you to the docks. He’s going to blow it at sea because it’s already armed. Stop it and fast.” Your bloody hand reached up, running along his cheek. “Please. I believe in you, Mitch. I love you.”

A single tear slid down his cheek, sliding onto your hand in the process. “I know. I love you too. Don’t you dare die on me, alright? I will be back soon.”

You reluctantly nodded, Mitch laying your body carefully against the wall. He disappeared, sparing one final glance at you. The second he was gone, you groaned loudly, shifting painfully against the wall. You let out a breath, wincing. “I don’t know how much I can promise this one, Mitch. I shouldn’t lie about promises I can’t keep.”

Your eyes were drifting closed, thinking about all the times you shared with Mitch. You didn’t register when someone dropped down beside you, or your limp body being lifted from the ground. Your mind went dark, the last thing that ran through your mind being Mitch as your hand went limp beside your bloody body.

Mitch, leaving you behind, was determined to fulfil your request, telling himself that he would return to you. You would be able to return home together, be able to be together finally. You were the only thing on his mind when he jumped onto the speedboat with Ghost. You were the only thing on his mind when he successfully killed the man who injured the love of his life. You were the only thing on his mind when he watched the bomb detonate in the water from the helicopter, clinging to the handrail.

When the explosion subsided, and no injuries were reported, Mitch finally relaxed, sinking into his seat. Stan looked over at him, a proud feeling swelling inside of him at the sight of the recruit he didn’t want to begin with.

Mitch took a moment to process what happened, jumping up in his seat. “Oh my God. Y/N. I-I need to go back for her.” Stan almost had to tackle with recruit before he could jump from the helicopter recklessly, which was hard considering the amount of injuries the older CIA man had incurred.

“Rapp, calm down,” he said, seeing Mitch on the verge of a panic attack. “She’s safe.”

“No, no. She was in those tunnels. She was shot and bleeding. I need to go help her,” he whispered, breathing picking up at the thought of losing his best friend.

“Rapp! She’s safe!” He said, gripping Mitch’s scruff chin to make him look into the man’s eyes. “I found her after you left. She was rushed to the hospital. She’s safe and will be ok. You can relax.”

Mitch shook slightly, slowly beginning to relax in his mentor’s arms. A wave of exhaustion rolled over his body, thought it was more like a tsunami in his mind. He was covered in cuts and bruises, blood dripping down his face and chest, his muscles aching from his fight with Ghost. But he was relieved, a sigh escaping his lips. He slunk back into his seat, his eyes drooping as he drifted off, awaiting the time he would see you again.

Love | noun | \ˈləv\: an intense feeling of deep affection.

Mitch sighed to himself, sitting on the chair on the beach, running a towel over his hair. He looked at the picture of him and Katrina in Spain he kept in his wallet. He sighed to himself, dropping the picture into his bag, zipping it closed. He slid his black shirt over his head, grabbing his bag and heading into the Italian hotel he was staying at since the incident.

The door clicked as it unlocked, Mitch dropping the bag on the table once he entered. He rounded the corner, smiling slightly at the sight of your sleeping body on the bed. Sure, you had been unconscious since you were admitted to the hospital, but he was glad you were ok. You had been dismissed a few days ago, Mitch begging Irene to allow you to stay in his hotel room. It took a lot of convincing, but the charges were dropped, considering you had taken a bullet for Mitch and helped stop the death of thousands of people.

Mitch sat on the edge of the bed, holding your hand in his and lifting your baggy shirt slightly to check your dressings. The doctors had said you were lucky, the bullet missing every organ miraculously. You were already beginning to heal nicely. You just had to be careful not to overexert yourself when you finally wake up.

You stirred slightly, eyes cracking open to stare up at the handsome man. He smiled largely, shifting closer to you. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Nice of you to return to the land of the living.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, slowly attempting to sit up. Your limbs were stiff and kind of sore, but you didn’t feel nearly as much pain as you figured you would. “Fuck, what did I miss?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. Another world war, we discovered aliens, Pluto became a planet again, Ghost died and the bomb killed no one, you were acquitted, I love you-“

“Woah. Slow your roll, cowboy. I know you are spewing shit, but Ghost is dead? The bomb didn’t kill anyone?” You asked, mouth falling open. Mitch frowned, laying down on the bed next to you.

“That’s all you got from that?”

“I heard you say you love me. And I love you too,” you told him, absently running your fingers through his hair without realizing you were doing so. “But I was acquitted?”

“Oh my God. You’re a loser,” he mumbled, curling into your side like a child.

“Says the grown man curling up on the injured person.”

“Shut up. You’re healing fine. I’ve been taking great take of you. Don’t be ungrateful.” He sat up, kissing your cheek. “You just have to be careful until your last few stitches come out. But you should be ok in my opinion.”

You smiled at him, twisting around to straddle his waist. You leaned forward, taking a deep breath at a small surge of pain in your system, knowing this moment was worth it. “Well, how can I ever say thank you for taking care of me?” you muttered, putting on the sexiest voice you could. You felt Mitch squirm under you, a small tent forming in his swim trunks.

“Well, you can agree to marry me first,” he stated bluntly. Your eyes widened, leaning back on top of him.

“W-what?”

“Look, I know I’m skipping some steps.” He paused, blinking once. “Alright, maybe a lot of steps, if not all of them. But I need you. I’ve loved you since we were in middle school. You’re my best friend and I was afraid to ruin what I had with you. But I can’t live without you anymore. I’m fixing what I should have fixed years ago. The second we get home, I’m digging out my mother’s ring and putting it in its rightful place.” He picked up your hand, kissing the spot the ring should go. “On your finger.”

A few stray tears slip down your cheeks, Mitch sitting up with you still on his lap. He held your cheeks, wiping the tears away, smiling at you. You just nodded at him, unable to form the words you wanted. You finally managed a straggled “yes,” Mitch flashing his pearly whites at you.

“You have no idea how happy you make me. I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” you got out, leaning forward to kiss him. Your eyes slid closed, not even caring when his lips quickly enveloped yours, taking control of the kiss in an instant. Your arms wound around his neck, threading through his hair. His hands held your waist, careful of the bandages. You both felt the spark in the kiss, your bodies heating up from your interaction.

The kiss was speeding up, lips smacking against each other, bodies pressing against each other. Your tongues swirled together between your lips, only separating for taking a small breath of air. Mitch was tugging at the baggy shirt you were clad in, ripping it over your head when you pulled away for another breath. Your breasts fell free, Mitch’s hand making contact with the plump mound the first chance he could.

He carefully rolled you over, your back pressing against the bed, his mouth never leaving yours. His hand kneaded your breast, massaging the tender mounds, his fingers brushing the sensitive peaks. Your moans were drowned out by your kisses, your bodies rolling against each other more and more.

Your hands slowly trailed down his body, tugging at the bottom of his shirt, slipping your fingers under the hem to delicately trace his abs. Mitch’s deep groan was lost in your throat, his lips pulling away abruptly from yours. He leaned back, pulling the tight, black cotton material over his head. Your fingers reached over, playing with the hairs of his happy trail, playing with the string on his swim trunks.

“You went to the beach without me?” You paused, pulling the string undone while you thought. “Wait, beach? Where are we exactly?”

Mitch chuckled, drawing circles on your thighs, grinning when he felt the goosebumps form. “Still in Italy. Right off the coast. They didn’t want to move you or Stan will you were a bit more healed. Plus, there was a bit more work to be done while you recover.” He leaned forward, pecking your lips. Plus, we all need a little vacation.”

“At least this time your proposal at the beach didn’t lead to terrorists attacking and killing your fiancé,” you jabbed. Mitch faked a frown, his heart to his chest.

“That’s low, baby. So very low.”

“Hey, you can at least joke about it a bit more now compared to before. A year ago, you would have had a breakdown at a mere mention of what happened.”

“Well,” he said, tugging the panties you were wearing under the baggy shirt down, his fingers brushing your dripping wet core. “I realized how much I love you. And how much I have moved on from Katrina. Because I’ve always had a girl by my side I want to be with.” Two of his fingers slid inside your pussy, listening to your sharp inhale of air. “And I’m much stronger, mentally and physically, than when I was in Spain. I won’t let anything happen to her. I will always be by her side to love her and cherish her and make her scream my name when I make love to her.”

“Well,” you started, your words cut short as Mitch’s long, slender digits slid inside you quickly, thrusting vigorously and curling the ends to rub your g-spot. “How about we start that now?”

Mitch grunted at your words, his thumb pressing to your clit as he thrust. Your body was already shaking at his minor movements, knowing you were sensitive from your lack of release from being unconscious. “I think we can manage that,” he murmured, his voice husky with arousal.

Your body quaked, walls tightening around his fingers, juices flowing freely around them. Your stomach tightened, a twinge of pain coming from your wound, though it was overshadowed by the overwhelming pleasure you felt from your orgasm. Your back arched off the bed, legs bending in every which way, the waves from your orgasm rolling through every pore in your body.

Mitch carefully pulled his fingers from your core, licking them clean of your juices. “So sweet,” he told himself, a blush forming on your cheeks.

“Shut up, Mitch. Stop trying to be cute.”

“Not trying, babe. Just stating the truth,” he said, rolling off the bed to undress. You heard the Velcro on his trunks come apart, the dampened material sliding down his legs quickly. Your shifted slightly to stare at his round ass, licking your lips.

“Did you know you have a nice ass?” You asked, Mitch looking at you over his shoulder. “I mean, you’re gorgeous in all ways, Mitch. Sexy face, wonderful muscles, the most delicious happy trail, perfectly round ass. Don’t get me started on your scruffy beard. Never shave it. I gladly accept beard burn whenever you decide to eat me out. And let’s not forget the giant fucking cock I love so much.”

“Is that so?” He joked, turning to face you. Your eyes visibly widened, locking on his fully erect cock standing prominently in the sunlight the leaked through the closed curtains. His hand wrapped around the shaft, stroking it slowly. The red tip glistened with his precum, your mouth beginning to water at the sight. “You mean this?”

You reached out your hands, giving him a “grabby hands” motion. “Yes. That. I want that inside me. Let me connect on the deepest level with it.” You saw his face, giggling at his deadpanned expression. “I meant you. Let me connect with you.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, pushing you back on the bed and settling himself between your legs. The head of his cock rubbed through your folds, probing at your entrance occasionally. His hips shifted forward once, his entire length sliding in an inch at a time until he was completely sheathed inside you. Your simultaneous moans filled the room, your arms locking around his neck in a heartbeat.

You felt no need to share words. Just pure loving emotion was felt. The dark-haired assassin leaned forward, his body shifting into a comfortable position to thrust inside you. Your felt ever pulse and throb of his cock inside you, your walls hugging him every time he expanded them. His tip easily tapped your cervix and sweet spot, his girth making sure he filled you to the brim with himself. Your nails raked down his back, leaving long red scratches in their wake. Mitch’s fingers curled into the sheets, messily kissing your lips occasionally as he pounded you firmly, yet gently, into the hotel bed.

You were together on cloud nine, and you had no intention of leaving that anytime soon.

You tugged Mitch further against your body, the assassin careful not to apply pressure to your wound. Your hands fell from his back, tugging at Mitch’s hand. He buried his head in his neck, allowing your fingers to interlock with his in a passionate embrace. He grinned against the skin of your neck, kissing at nipping it, leaving a fresh bruise atop the ones that were almost healed. His hips gyrated against yours, your moan directed straight into his ear.

“Fuck,” Mitch moaned, his head pulling from your neck. His lips locked with yours, his thrusts continuing in a sloppy manner. His lips pulled away, brushing against yours as he spoke. “I love you so much, Y/N Rapp.”

You mewled at the combination of his words and the feelings he gave you, your gut swelling with happiness as you neared your second orgasm. The coil inside you was loosening quickly, and Mitch knew it. He felt it too.

You tried to get words out, but all you could muster was moans of his name, small screams erupting occasionally. Mitch felt proud that you were enjoying it, feeling a million times more connect than he ever felt with you. If this was how he was going to spend the rest of his life, he did not regret the choices he made.

His cock sputtered inside you, Mitch’s actions slowly to a steady push, his entire load spilling inside you in streams of white cum. The feeling of his hot seed warmed your insides set you over the hurdle to your own release, a long moan bouncing off the walls as your fluids coated his cock. Mitch slowly thrust into you, riding out your highs.

The thing that solidified your everlasting bond was your connected hands tightening around each other, never once letting go since they became connected.

Your pants came out unevenly, though somehow matched perfectly with Mitch’s. He pulled out of you, collapsing on the bed next to you. His arm wound around you, his hand clutching your breast tightly in his grip. You chuckled at his motion, feeling his head nuzzle into your neck. Kissing his forehead, your smiled to yourself.

“I love you too, Mitch Rapp. You’re my best friend and my lover. I wouldn’t wish for anything different.”

Mitch nodded softly kissing your bare shoulder. “You know, it’s funny. When I left on this mission, Stan told me not to let my personal feelings affect my actions. But I think my personal feelings saved you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have tried so hard to save you.”

“You might have actually drowned me in Rome,” you joked, feeling Mitch frown.

“Can’t we let that go?”

“Nope. Holding it against you forever.”

“Bitch,” he mumbled, causing you to laugh. “What I was trying to get across was that I’m glad I let this one get personal.” He paused, leaning on his arm to look at you better. “Also, never watch home movies with Stan. It leads to him strangling you with computer wires.”

“Duly noted, babe,” you told him, curling into his chest. “He was right to say not to let it get personal. It almost got you killed. But I’m glad you don’t listen to orders that well. You saved me.”

“No, you saved me,” Mitch said, letting you both drift off into a well-deserved rest.

[pokefanbri]

I got in touch with my 1st love a couple months ago..hes a half native American & white dude, pretty pudgy now like triple the size of himself in middle school lol. Doesn't have much time left on this earth I feel for him, im glad I know now cause if I hadn't it probably would've been alot more devastating. Doesnt have to wear a mask cuz really whats the point. We met for coffee, got to hang out at the mall & he visited my work, we did talk & clear the air..got some things out that were left unsaid & i gotta say it really did help & we're better for it 😊 we're now cool & no hard feelings.

We used to be on & off in hs but the last time I broke it off with him for good reasons & also due to my mother 😒 If it weren't for him & our own experiences, & then every guy since...I would've have known how much I really love or attached I can be to someone (which has been all of them really but does disintegrate over time & going into new relationships they become just a distant memory as the yrs go by & then ur all about the new guy 🤔 basically right) or how unattached I can get when I just dont love them anymore...(of which has only happened twice)

For the record I've had 5 relationships my whole life...not counting flings..out of 2 they broke up with me.. & they so happen to be the ones i fell hard & fast for...its a common theme but they are the best ones I've experienced & I think I have a confirmed type now that I think about it lol. Im thinking too much again, but..they're top tier unforgettable.

I fell damn fucking hard this time around just like I did Thomas..don't think I got enough of him either...😤 seriously wtf is it with these charming & hilarious, headstrong, smart ass, string bean, stoner, Leo men fucking my heart up after only a few months time! What is the universe trying to tell me! I swear to God in another lifetime they would've been friends its an incredible likeness. History repeated itself it seems..I was so in love with him too, we were only 19 but omg he was awesome & we were ALL OVER EACHOTHER 🤤. He was my coworker, a red headed skinny bobblehead tho, & lived in my apt complex his best friend Danny boy did too in his own, hard core Call of Duty players I remember they high jacked my tv for optimum experience...😒 walking the tv across the parking lot was super sketchy looking lol.

Anyway after Thomas broke up with me for saying the L word "too soon" it freaked him out I guess & my brain cracked from the devastation...doctors are convinced it was the weed 😒 and apparently I ODd on Tylenol...crock of bs btw but whatever...i couldn't sleep & for days I was in a haze til I finally called my aunt for help & all of a sudden I was locked away in a psych ward for 2 weeks so they could observe what was wrong & diagnose me. Had to quit pima college & stop working, put everything on hold for my health. After I came back, Tom admitted he wanted me back but he hated my 1st love with a passion. I confessed I was back with my 1st as he was there at my side & visiting..when Tom had no idea where tf I was, me missing worried him sick. I had no clue & for all I knew he forgot about me while I was grieving over us in the hospital (I couldn't have my phone..knew a select few #s by heart otherwise he would've been the 1st I'd call), I was still dazed & super fucked up from the hospital..just outright exhausted when Thomas came to my apartment wanting to try again....yea I messed that up though regretfully. I told him the truth...I know it hurt him, hurt me too. Never saw Thomas again 😔 he was my 2nd, wonder how he is.

After I broke up with my 1st there was like a 1 or 2 month relationship with a fat Irish dude named Patrick I met from college, he insulted my mom..kicked his ass the curb 😂 yea she chased him away too just like my 1st...but an Irish version..was kinda a deadbeat anyway good riddance. I was alone for about 5 years after that til eventually met my ex-husband matt & was with him for technically 7 years & then that ended.

Long story short I was hit with another love bomb over the past year (T2.0 lol) & the fallout is taking forever to disapate lol...well good technically I don't want it to yet lmao, it feels good to love someone with a full heart except for the fact they ain't here 😔

I love genuinely & with a full heart, ive never had a problem with love, except for my abusive mother I sought approval for....never have I been with someone that didnt want it...didn't want me, until him. If someone shows that to me in a relationship it hurts me at the roots, u don't understand how much it brings out that little girl that just wants to be loved back..to be wanted. It hurts to think im not even worth that. I realize though that he may have his own issues to get past first b4 he can learn to give it back & its not my fault. I should on some things honestly but I don't blame him..not anymore. I blame my own trauma that made me so fucking sensitive & off-putting to him, going from 1 relationship to another without healing first, & not knowing how to function walking on eggshells around a new person trying not to piss them off...not knowing how to do a fresh relationship from the start again....when you've been with 1 person prior for 7 yrs.

I grew up being beaten as a kid, I have no father, my mother chose drugs over her own children, everybody in my family arent like a hallmark card far from it...its fucking tucson ok it's a hell hole. A good amount are notorious for causing trouble around the city, nobody talks to eachother..stays away & fends for themselves, or just killing themselves with drugs & selfishly hurting people around them. Very few of us are really trying to make it out & create life for ourselves but it's really hard to escape because we're all struggling. I cry because I've been strong for way too long on my own, I cry when I think im not good enough. Besides some relationships & friendships along the way for support guess who's always taken care of herself to survive, yours truly. It's a huge accomplishment that I've never been homeless, only a couple times have I had to rely on a friend or family member for a roof over my head & that was just 2020-2021,boy is it good to have connections during a pandemic phew, alot more tough to find someone willing to help. My big sis Lisa, my mentor assigned to me at 12 yrs old cuz my mom couldn't be a real parent lol...she says im a strong princess thats gone through hell & back, she's seen me do it countless times, she can attest to how much of a boss & survivor I am...she knows I deserve nothing but to be appreciated,respected, valued. I'm underestimated all the time because apparently people think they can read what kinda person I am just by looking at me or by word of mouth, hell no very doubtful screw u lol... i don't need anybody's belittling opinions of what kind of person I am ok, how about talk to me & ill see if u in the ballpark lol cuz I guarantee im a boss ass goody 2 shoes that can kick butt 😊. So listen here, I know my worth & I deserve a prince to keep me safe from the big bad world right? I need an actual shoulder to cry on not someone that'll walk away when I need them most 😔 Why tf do I feel like rapunzel & all I get is fuckin Flynn 😂 I'm a queen ok, hear me now.

This will be my 3rd own rented apartment. The 1st time I was a teen & imancipated...had that place for a few years 1st & 2nd love era, 2nd time was the escape from my mother as an adult & I moved away eventually got married. And now at another turning point in my life... escaping a very different hell & losing pretty much everything including the man that started it all, 3rd time is the charm right. Fuck my life sidewinder style. Honestly this is the best apartment complex I've found that I want as my home....its gated nothing can touch me from outside unless I say so, so at least im secure to a point.

Why am I talking and not sleeping 😐 I'm tired, it's 5am now. Yeaaaaa I'm done 💤

[what17says]

[ENG] SEVENTEEN's Dazed Korea Interview (Performance Team)

Word count: ~1700 words

Other team’s parts: Vocal Team - Hip Hop Team

trans cr: jyeoshin & kass @ what17says source: SM_LIPBALM © take out only with credits

Q. Please introduce yourselves in an idol-like manner.

Jun: Hello, I’m SEVENTEEN’s performance team’s Jun. I’m from China and I’m the tallest in SEVENTEEN.

Hoshi: I’m SEVENTEEN’s performance team’s leader, 10:10 Hoshi. CARATs (all 4 of them referred to their fans like that) gave me that nickname because my eyes are the shape of 10:10.

Dino: I’m SEVENTEEN’s small giant and the youngest, Dino. I think that I have the most outstanding possibility to grow/develop in SEVENTEEN. I’m also in charge of freshness in the performance team.

The8: I’m The8 and I have infinite possibilities. I’m also from China, and I’m good at breakdancing.

Q. SEVENTEEN is an existing ‘self-sufficient’ idol group that personally participates in and produces songs and performances. What is the performance team’s role?

HS: SEVENTEEN’s performance team directly takes part in the creation of choreography and stage configuration of SEVENTEEN’s album’s title songs as well as non-title tracks. For title tracks, there are times when we work together with the choreographer, and as for the non-title tracks, it’s all made by us. We also personally come up with the formation of the performance. Other than that, whether it’s writing songs or raps, or singing, we also participate in those.

Q. It means that each of you possess a lot of abilities and talents, was it originally the case? Or did you receive education on it to fit the concept?

HS: It was a situation where our team’s debut kept getting pushed back. That’s why we tried to do everything we could firsthand because we wanted to debut even just one day quicker. Those who can write songs wrote songs, the performance team came up with choreographies, and after doing that for a while, I think that’s why the company positively viewed (our efforts). Even if we did not try to separately match our clothes, it seems like those we found and wore on our own looked dependable, so we managed to debut with that concept.

(T/N: The “clothes” are referring to the refreshing concept SEVENTEEN has)

Q. I think you guys would feel pride that no one else feels due to the tightly woven system you’ve matched.

HS: Because we dance to our own song, I think we’re definitely dignified about it.

T8: That’s right. Because we’re doing what we like.

DN: Because we’re doing what we’re comfortable with, I think it’s certainly more natural. It’s exactly SEVENTEEN-like.

Q. I heard that today is SEVENTEEN’s 500th day after debut. I’m curious as to how you remember the past 500 days as.

HS: It was a happy and thankful time. It passed by too quickly as well. I feel that I have to focus more on the upcoming days.

J: I think time is fast. I want to not forget the energy we had on the day we debuted and keep it like how it is now. I’m talking about (keeping it) for a long time.

DN: It was really fascinating when the album made from the strength we gathered came out and when we were promoting. Luckily, they were 500 days where we received a lot of love from others. I’ve been happy because of CARATs, and thankful. I have to work even harder.

T8: To be honest, I didn’t know it’d be this hard. I realised people could be this busy, but I think I’m now used to it. Even if it’s tiring, when I gain fighting spirit together with the members and go up on stage, seeing CARATs gives me strength. I’m very happy when I’m on stage.

Q. When watching SEVENTEEN’s performance, I get the feeling that I’m watching a musical. How do you keep that in mind, or from what do you get influenced by?

HS: I gained interest in choreographies with story-telling in them while thinking about what choreography can set us apart from other idols together with the choreographer-hyung, and paid attention to that part. Since I wanted to make a performance where we can play around freely, I naturally got ideas from musical elements.

Q. Throughout the whole filming today, and the interview right now as well, Hoshi keeps standing out. He seems very adult-like compared to those who are the same age as him, and also seems greedy.

DN/T8/J: That’s right!

DN: There’s no one in SEVENTEEN who doesn’t have greed. Because Hoshi-hyung is the performance team leader, there are a lot of instances where he steps up to the front enthusiastically. Also because his sense of challenge is very strong.

HS: I think it’s responsibility. Being performance team’s leader. Because the members follow me well and help me out, thank you.

Q. There’s something I ask whenever I meet anyone who stands on stage. What feeling do you get when you first stand on stage?

J: I actually become cool-headed when I’m on stage and the song starts. Would it be right to say that I just think of the performance only? After the whole performance ends and the fans clap and scream, at that time, my nervousness goes away and (my heart) flutters.

HS: The feeling of the square frame-like thing that has me locked up in it being broken and light starts shining out? The trembling is no joke. Whether I’m giving strength/energy to my body, and how much is given, all sense is lost and I get too excited, that cannot be controlled.

DN: I practiced staring at the red lights from cameras a lot before debut. I had a strong greed to keep an eye on the cameras well. Finishing the performance well is also important, but I’m always concentrating on where the camera’s red light is.

T8: Rather than solely being happy on the debut stage, I was extremely nervous. It was fascinating as well. Now, whenever I’m on stage, I enjoy it and feel happy.

Q. Do you have any worries?

T8: It’s peaceful these days. The only thing is, I want to gain weight. I’m not gaining weight no matter how much I eat.

DN: How should I progress in the future, I worry about such things.

HS: I’m always worrying about the next thing. Personally, I’m thinking if I should pierce my ears or not. I want to show a new side, but because I’m scared of needles…

J: I feel that my Korean skills are still insufficient. I want to do better.

Q. What about something you really liked or made you happy? Even minor/trivial memories are alright.

HS: I’m in the midst of diet management these days and I ate meat without the trainer knowing. It was really delicious. While managing my diet, I got to feel again that there are a lot of delicious food in the world.

J: Hmm, I liked seeing what we filmed today. Because it’s a style that we don’t usually do, it was awkward at first, but I think it turned out well.

DN: I found a new rapper a few days ago. It’s a rapper I got to know from listening to Kendrick Lamar’s song, and his name is Lil Dicky. I was really happy when I found out about a good artist that I did not know about.

T8: Because it’s not SEVENTEEN’s promotional period right now, there’s a bit of free time. We could go shopping, and play bowling, I like the relaxing time.

Q. Is there anything you’re especially into nowadays?

J: I’ve liked (reading) books since middle school until now.

HS: I’m very interested in exercising, and since I’m managing my diet, I’m satisfying my cravings by watching eating broadcasts.

DN: There’s nothing in particular I’m into. I think I have to say that I’m in the midst of finding one.

T8: I’m into table tennis. Because there’s a table tennis table in the company’s building, I play table tennis every day with the members. I also like riding my bicycle to the Han River.

Q. Dino, The8, Jun, Hoshi, have your dreams came true yet?

DN/T8/J/HS: No. This is the start.

DN: I think it can be said this way. We had big dreams during our trainee periods. However, for the dream we had at that point of time, we had to debut first before we could dream about it. So now that I’ve debuted, I think that half of my dream has come true. As for the remaining half, I want it to come true together with the team called SEVENTEEN.

Q. There will no longer be conversations about ‘dreams’ when you’re an adult. Because then it’ll be useless, and that it’ll be ticklish/sensitive. But to the 4 people in front of me, I feel like I could ask that with a happy heart. What’s your dream?

J: I have many dreams. Every time I wake up from my sleep, I have a new dream. I’m putting in effort to work harder in life while facing that dream. Rather than becoming a star, I would love to do something that can make me feel comfortable and satisfied. I think I’ll be happy with that.

HS: If I were to be honest, I want to earn lots of money and be filial to my parents. I want to be a lot more famous than now, and become 1st place on all broadcasting stations. Until then, I hope our members will be together for a long time, no matter till when.

DN: I don’t know if it’ll sound grandiose, but I want to become an artiste who leaves a mark in history. I hope that’ll be SEVENTEEN. I want (us) to be remembered as artistes that always attempt new things.

T8: For SEVENTEEN to promote together for a long long time. I want to become more famous and it’d of course be great to earn a lot of money. When I was young, I vaguely wanted to become a ‘superstar’. I hope it’ll turn out like that.

Other team’s parts: Vocal Team - Hip Hop Team

trans cr: jyeoshin & kass @ what17says source: SM_LIPBALM © take out only with credits

[morganshayz]

I have struggled with true happiness for most of my life.  My childhood has some good parts, but if I really think about it, I can make myself see it for what it truly was.  My father caused a lot of pain for my family.  I don’t talk about it much because when you tell people they don’t realize how bad it actually was.  They weren't there.  I had a very brief moment of actual happiness for I don't even know how long.  It’s really just a small group of memories.  Sleepovers at the air force base with my friends, sneaking to the playground after base curfew to talk in the tunnels and slides, writing stories together, all reading the same books at the same time, me being introduced to anime, car washes with my best friend every Wednesday, youth night at church, and going to the movies together.  Then everything just got bad.  

All of my friends became very close with each other and formed mini groups out of our single group and some got boyfriends and I tried so hard to keep all of it together.  I was the glue.  I made sure we all still met up for movies and sleepovers.  All of junior year to the beginning of my senior year in high school was hell on earth.  Three of my closest friends became their own little group and kept secrets between the three of them.  One of the girls within that many group entered into an abusive relationship.  She is now moving in with him this summer.  I got into a fight with one of the other three girls at the end of my first semester of high school because I told her that I could feel her pulling away from me and that I really missed her.  She got angry and we just decided to agree to disagree on the subject. Things are still different between us.  The last girl in that group was never that close with me in the first place anyways.  My best friend “fell in love” and changed religions for the guy and that caused a HUGE shift in our relationship.  She quit talking to me and pretty much left me for dead.  We are roommates now, but EVERYTHING is different now and it will never be the same again.  Another friend graduated the year before us, he is at the same college as most of us, but he has a girlfriend now and every time I try to plan something with him he either won't answer me or says he can't because he has other plans.  

All of these people are so very precious to me.  They were my family when my real family couldn’t be.  I will always love and care about them so much.  They are still great people.  MA (the girl moving in with her horrible boyfriend) is so sensitive and sweet.  She always tries to listen to everyone’s needs and help in any way possible.  She also tries really hard to not rock the boat.  She is trying to get into film school to do animation.  NG (the girl who pulled away) is so extroverted.  She loves people.  She’s loud and obnoxious at times.  She is the most frugal person and also one of the most beautiful people on the planet and she is currently studying to be a nurse.  MB (the girl I’m not close with) is very logical and has a very different sense of humor.  She can get stressed and overwhelmed pretty easily, but she’s pretty in tune with other people and gives amazing advice.  She (finally) got her first job.  HS (my best friend) is a hopeless romantic, she loves art and journals and wash tape.  She is hella organized and just always has her shit together.  She can also be pretty negative and has a sense of entitlement.  She loves movies and Maroon 5 and the idea of being in love, marriage, and sex.  JW (the guy friend) is one of the most emotional and caring guys I have ever met.  He feels so much and tries so hard to make sure everyone is okay.  He is very practical and realistic.  He wants a very mediocre life. He says so all the time.  He can take jokes a little too far on occasion, and be a prick to girls he isn't dating (because we become like guy friends to him).

In between all of this, I met two of my very best friends my senior year of high school.  They showed me what friendship is actually supposed to be like. I was always giving for these people because of how much I cared about them, but they never gave anything back.  They left me empty and alone in the long run.  No matter what, I will still be there for them though.  It’s just not in me to leave people that I love so much.  Even if it is toxic.  TN (friend I made senior year) has been one of the best people I have ever had the honor of knowing.  He has blessed my life in so many ways.  He cared about me when no one else did.  He saw me when I was not okay.  He actually listened. He didn’t try to offer advice or tell me how easily fixed all my problems were.  He just sat there and listened even when I talked about things he knew absolutely nothing about. I will always view him and the best and healthiest friendship I have ever had.  KS (the other friend i met senior year) is a lot of things.  She can be a little bossy and opinionated, but it was because she cared.  Every once in awhile advice she gave came off as more of an insult or a demand, but she was still there for me when others weren't.  She had her good days and bad days and no one can really blame her for that.  She would send me pins and text me at 4am just to say something completely random and ridiculous.  She was just a breathe of fresh air in my life.  She really helped me start to move out of being a doormat for others and for that I will forever be grateful.  Both of these people have since fallen in love and have wonderful lives they are building for themselves and trust me they deserve it more than anyone else I have mentioned.  They made me come up out of whatever I was stuck in for a year.  

But now that it’s back to just me, I have gotten so much worse.  I can’t even bring myself to shower most days or do my homework.  I sleep in most of my classes no matter how much sleep i get even though I've taken out thousands of dollars in loans for college.  I binge eat every single meal I eat.  I don’t do anything productive ever.  I just sit and stare and lay in bed doing nothing.  Life doesn’t feel worth it.  Everyone around me has found their thing whether it’s a career, major, significant other, whatever and I have found nothing.  There is no reason for me to be here.  I do have a major but I won’t make much money doing it and it makes me question whether I can actually do it.  The only thing I have to look forward to right now is AKon.  That’s it. I don’t know how I'm going to pull myself up this time.  I just can’t do it.  I don’t know what its like to look forward to my own life.  Every year it just gets worse and worse.  I thought going  to college would make it better, but it has made everything way worse than it was.  I have made no new friends, I am drowning in homework, I make barely enough money to feed myself on days the caf is closed and to get gas.  I don’t even own any jeans right now because I can’t afford them.  I gained like ten pounds in a month.  I can’t replace my makeup so I can’t even get ready and practice self care.  The caf has no healthy food except salads and canned fruit.  I don’t have enough time to do laundry.  I can’t go to bed on time.  My libido is all over the place all the time.  My roommate won’t let me turn the a/c on and I am dying.  I am also incurably sad.  All of those things stress me out and then I feel like there’s no point.  Why am I even here? I have nothing and no one.  I don’t know what to do or how to fix all of this.  

       I never wanted this to happen

       Never wanted this to die

       But I’ve pushed myself down so far

       I couldn’t come back if I tried

-MZ

[astraealemon]

what’s happening right now

in an effort to not lose my mind, i’m about to write all the things that’s been going through my mind lately. so here it goes

#1 my mom 

this gon’ be hella long but let’s start. so my mom is back after 2 years working abroad so that means it’s also been 2 years since we last talked. it has been emotionally draining for me y’know there’s a lot of issues i don’t wanna get in to but i feel it’s important to really get it out of my system. so eto na nga, my sister left her facebook open on my laptop and a message from my mom popped up and i clicked on it tapos i saw that they we’re talking about me and how i “like” my dad’s girlfriend more than my mom and a shitload more pero as usual she’s wrong i don’t know kung bakit pero sobrang naging emotional ako that i cried for 3 days straight and still crying right now i’m hella lucky walang nakakapansin. (that’s why i’m taking extra long showers because that’s where i cry). so that whole experience unearthed all emotions that i’ve been hiding and pushing back in the corner of my mind. many would say na i’m a horrible daughter for just cutting off my mom just like that but what they don’t know is that it wasn’t easy. it’s a long, unending battle where i choose to tolerate that kind of toxic mentality/life or get better(--in terms of my mental health). i just recently realized 2 things on why a part of me was really okay with not talking to my mom is that whenever i see her, it brings me back to the worst moments in my life and where my mental health was at its worst. (1) there’s a memory where i always go back to-- 2nd year hs i came home and as soon as i opened the door the heavy smell of alcohol and cigarettes slapped me in the face and i swore i felt every emotion i could feel and blacked out. i saw my mom sitting in the dining room table and behind her is her ex-boyfriend na sobrang hate ko and she told me to come to her to hug her-- i sprinted in my room and closed the door and as soon as i closed it, the tears streamed down and i was pacing back and forth. okay this part is a little hasty but i remembered that i have like a knife/huge scissors and i wanted to stab myself but i thought that it wasn’t sharp enough to kill me. i looked out in my window and thought about jumping but it wasn’t high enough. i was frustrated  and tired because i just really really wanted everything to end-----and that day was the day i almost killed myself(and that wasn’t the first and last time) so yun nga. i realized why i was deeply okay, una yung mental health ko worsens or immediately tumbles whenever i think about her and (2) the other reason is the feeling of abandonment. okay so another memory--- this was way before hs. gradeschool pa ko neto. my mom left us. it was just a few days and i thought that that was it but one morning i woke up with a heavy feeling ewan ko it’s like my body felt the pain i was about to experience even before i knew it. so my dad approached me and asked me to read a text message he got from my mom, again this part is a little hasty so all i remembered is my mom wanting to go back home to us i don’t know why but i think she and her then bf broke up and she’s hella broke and in the text she explained that she wanted to start a new life, a fresh start kumbaga and that word struck me so hard and this was after she had 5 kids. 5 KIDS and she wanted to start fresh that hurt me so much it damaged our damaged relationship. tapos tinanong ako ni daddy kung papabalikin pa ba and i didn’t want to pero i didn’t say anything nalang tapos i went back to bed and cried myself to sleep ulit kasi te di kaya ng gradeschool self ko yung sakit. okay so lahat ng to i know it’s weird pero i don’t hate her, i used to pero i was childish and immature and didn’t know any better. am i justifying what i’m doing???? maybe pero i want to explain my side. would i ever tell them this???? hell no, kasi kahit i sampal ko sa kanila to never nila maiintindihan. so recently aug 8 pumunta si mommy sa bahay and as soon as i saw her, i smiled and i hugged her and even greeted her a happy birthday and we were talking for a few minutes + crying tapos after a while she started to not make sense and i realized that she’s drunk. so yun, nagbreak down nanaman ako ng beri slight tapos nagusap sila ni daddy sa kabilang room and bbbbb i can hear everything like huhuhu tapos nung naguusap kami she asked me what i was thinking because she doesn’t have any clue what goes through my mind and i was like you can’t handle my thoughts sorry pero di ko sinabi sa kanya yun tapos she proceeded to tell me na mas mahal ko si jo(gf ni daddY) and i treat her like a mom ganon parang huh when did i ever lam mo yun she likes to make assumptions about me that’ll hurt her more.

[ am i choosing my mental health over the toxicity of my mom// toxicity of my parents’ marriage

or am i just running away from my issues and not really doing anything for my mental health im so confuseddddt ]

that’s it hehe