#WHY THE HELL ARE THESE MFS GIVING BIRTH RIGHT NOW

[riverfelloff]

shout out to the spankoffski brothers 😔 they would've loved midnight goat birth

[mochiepie]

𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✿

𝑯𝒖𝒔𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 + 𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒘 ✿

✿=︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶=✿

(𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 :- 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖. 𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤. 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲. 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲. 𝐔𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤.)

Husband satoru who can't keep his mouth shut whenever he sees you wearing a tight top, blouse, dress. His eyes are fixated on your titties.

Husband Satoru who will insist on and on to have babies as soon as possible right after getting married. He can't stand your tits being empty at all. The urgency of milk is reaching the space now.

Husband satoru who wouldn't take your NO as a no, and would keep fucking you when you're asleep or might end up mixing an aphrodisiac in your drink/food for few weeks to keep railing you. He isn't guilty about it. You're his woman, his to breed. "Princess, see how lucky you are to have my seeds in your cute little womb. You whore around in my house yeah wearing slutty dresses to show me your empty huge tits yeah? I'll fill your tits just see princess. Fu-fuck" he would be talking dirty and filthy to you while you're completely unconscious due to the drug or if you're in sleep. Cuz obviously you aren't letting him cum inside you if you were concious, so... That's how it is, to make his work done. He can go to the most downgrade lengths too.

Husband satoru who would stack up pregnancy kits just for you and would take the test on you. Yeah you're peeing infront of him. He is a nasty ass. He won't even mind to lick some droplets of your pee which trickles down your thigh. " Even your piss is fukin sweet princess "

Husband satoru when he finds out you're finally Pregnant (after testing 18 Pregnancy kits on you just to confirm it) his ass is flying. Finally a mini satoru coming? Yeah. Hell yeah. Now you're completely underground. He is your shadow, even you aren't pooping without him coming in just to check if you're pooping, if the poop is healthy. His mind thinks that what if you poop and the something happens to the baby. He won't admit his NONSENSE thoughts. Obviously he can't let his prestige disintegrate infront of you ATLEAST! he wants utmost respect and obedience from you. He'll directly spread the pregnancy news to his family and obviously to his students and friends, boasting about how quickly in one go he got you knocked up. His students even get disgusted. Any topic they are talking about and satoru ends up including you in the talk somehow.

Husband satoru who watches every Pregnancy videos on YouTube, or any sites even the delivery videos. His brain was traumatised. Mf didn't even know how women actually gives birth. When he heard those screams of women giving birth in the videos. Yeah he is done. Look, he fukin wants your milk in those huge tits of yours. Yea he also wants the baby for sure. But now.. now the guilt is coming in. Now he understood why you said no. But will he admit and show it? HELL NAH! Satoru even went to the hospital to the gynaecologist just to confirm if woman actually gives birth in that way, to discuss the whole procedure A to Z.

Husband satoru who sees you getting more rounder, tits swelling with milk, that swollen baby bump. How could he resist.. right? He has so much knowledge about the pregnancy and all stuff.. that he aligns his cock in your pussy so softly and gently.. "just the tip baby- nngh! Princess, stop squeezing" and yeah he actually resists his urge and only inserts his tip. Why? Cuz his guilt of baby trapping you hasn't faded yet. He'll wait till you give birth.

Husband satoru who will wait till your tits are filled with milk, and as soon as he sees milk, he is latching on it. He has been sucking your tits almost every hour, everyday, for months. Even after you gave birth, your child gets another tit and another tit is only reserved for him. That's it. This is what he was waiting for afterall. Milk. Satoru completely gave up on sweets. Despite having a sweet tooth he wasn't interested in eating those sweets. His only sweet, was you, was your milk. Oh also your pussy juices. " You want daddy to touch your princess parts mmhm? Begg then..keep begging while i empty your tits yeah? So ... Fukin huge. My little cow "

Husband satoru who thinks he won't get you preggy again. But when he realised that your milk won't stay forever. Eventually you'll end up getting your tits empty? Oh ... Well.. now he is rethinking. But when you ask him.. " can we have another baby? " With that cute pout of yours! You think his dick would resist? Absolutely not. His guilt instantly fades away, he forgets everything. His mind is fixated on breeding you again. And again. And again. It has never been a single day when he would not stop groping your tits, sucking, biting, digging his nails on the flesh, flicking and squeezing, pinching your nipples brutally untill you cry and begg him to stop. The way your milk squirts out and paints his body white. Well now he ain't stopping doin it, keep begging and crying. He is gonna do it untill you faint.

[green-alien-turdz]

i want you to go over each and every small character detail you add and explain i love your mind and your art dude no homo

Okay, here we go

STAN: Peace sign pin on his hat n sometimes wears preachy shirts about environmentalism bcuz he's an ecofag. He has faint old scars on his arms n thighs cuz he used to cut. He's often covered in bruises bcuz the CD shows are tightly packed n he will inevitably get hit at least once.

KENNY: Covered in shit load of scars bcuz dead as hell. He's missin a visible top tooth bcuz it got cracked as shit n asked the gang to pull it out for him, which they very poorly did. While he doesn't care about havin nice clothes, he likes comedy shirts bcuz he'll lose his mind if he can't make someone at least chuckle.

CARTMAN: Stretch marks bcuz he a big bitch. His hair is the exact same bcuz he got so used to it as a kid n now has anxiety about changin it (he will never admit this). He also likes wearin funny shirts bcuz Kenny got him goin on that. Bro also wears tight or more showin clothin when he feels cuz he couldn't give less of a shit about how other view his body.

KYLE: Mouth scars from Human Centipad (he just kinda ignores the scars now. He couldn't come to terms with them, so he just numbed himself to them), sh scars bcuz that bitch ain't well. Jewfro in full bloom as he just doesn't care n he REALLY needs to take better care of it bcuz it's so matted. CD shirt 95% of the time bcuz it's like his #1 comfort item.

MARJORINE (or Butters if we're goin by show name): She keeps her hair at that very specific length bcuz it's long enough to where she feels more feminine, but short enough to where her parents don't suspect anything (but gettin allowed to grow it that long took a lot of convincing). He eye left eye is scarred n not able to move much due to the throwin star incident (she is blind in that eye). She does have old sh scars from middle school when she had to come to terms with bein trans n she was extremely confused n conflicted about all of it. She likes wearin skirts bcuz it makes her feel more feminine, but has to get dressed once out in public, so it's somethin she can quickly get on and off if need be.

IKE: Long hair/mullet adjacent bcuz he is just likin the look right now n after Sheila made him keep his hair short for majority of his childhood, he's just kinda feelin out different things. I gave him freckles bcuz in Cartman Get's an Anal Probe, Kyle calls him a 'freckly kid'. Bro got them glasses bcuz he grew up on the computer. His front tooth is cracked n brown bcuz he n Kyle were wrestlin n Ike hit a table. And while it's not completely uncommon for people to start growin facial hair in middle school, Ike started to bcuz Canadians hit puberty earlier.

KAREN: She has a birth mark on the left side of her face (did this in placement for the weird maybe dirt stain she has in the show). Her hair is long n all over the place bcuz she doesn't really brush her hair (you can blame Kenny for the influence) n she cuts it herself but is not too great at layering. Growin up impoverished n around the ideologies that Stan n CD always talks about made her rather angry in the sphere of politics n human rights, so she is very vocal about her opinions of the shit she sees (which is why she always writes shit on her clothes). She can also sometimes be seen wearin a rasta coloured beanie, which was Kevin's before he died.

CRAIG: Usually wearin his work hoodie (Fagoccini's Pizzaria) bcuz mf doesn't care to put in effort outside of that seein as he works so much. Bro wears a similar hat to the one he did as a kid bcuz it brought him a lot of comfort, n now that his hairline is recedin n he's baldin a lil bit at 18, he wears it bcuz he's a lil insecure. He doesn't give a shit that his teeth a crooked n gapped cuz it doesn't effect shit, but he does have a bit of an underbite that pisses him off bcuz he swears up n down that's what makes his voice sound so nasally.

TWEEK: Hair all fuckin wild bcuz he cuts it himself, n loses patience quickly n starts choppin. He also has white streaks in his hair which started appearing after his parents got arrested n durin his very long detox (from the stress of the info and on his body cuz of the dependency). He's got scratches all over his face n body from stress scratchin, meltdowns, n a few mishaps here n there. Bro also got sh scars bcuz bro got a lotta shit that went down n his brain chemistry is FUCKED.

WENDY: She cuts her hair short bcuz she wants to have a more androgynous appearance, but is still very confident with bein feminine n shit like that. When she started to become more human rights n social justice oriented, she started to get into boxing (as well as wrestling in school). She thought it would be a good to know how to fight if it came down to it. Plus she could already kick ass before, n she just thought it would be best to hone that ability.

BEBE: Started changin quite a bit after she had a whole moment of thinkin that she would turn out exactly like her mom (she has nothin wrong with her, just doesn't want that life). While she's still into things like cheer, she also started lookin into things that weren't what she was used to. She ended up findin Pink Flamingos, n became obsessed with Divine ever since. She dyes her cuz she feels better with it. n while she still does her makeup conventionally, she likes doin a more dark colour palet.

CLYDE: He's just Clyde. Dude's appearance didn't change that much bcuz he didn't change much. Some mfs just kinda be like that.

TOLKEIN: His mom suggested he try different hairstyles to be more connected with his culture bcuz he was havin a moment where he felt a lil blah bein the only Black dude his age in the area. He doesn't do upkeep as much as he should though, so things are a lil messy, but he doesn't see a problem as workin on the farm makes everythin messy so much faster anyway.

JIMMY: Bro just dresses casually. He doesn't really care about clothes or shit bcuz he can get people's attention with his comedy. Ladies man as fuck

HENRIETTA: Always has the best outfits bcuz she got into sewin so that she could start makin shit that she specifically wanted. She has a few tattoos- some are stick n pokes she did with her friends, others her mom signed off on when she was still under 18. She tries to ward people off with her makeup, which works rather well in South Park. She has both old sh scars from her emo moment (where she was just doin it cuz that's what she was told emo's did), n ones from later on where she was just feelin super empty n couldn't find a way to romanticize it like done previously.

FIRKLE: He's still in middle school so he doesn't go AS out there with his fashion bcuz he doesn't have the in-school support of his friends anymore. But still does dramatic makeup which he gets in trouble for all the time.

MICHAEL: Simple clothes that he's comfortable in, but not so simple that he feels like he's conforming. Pierced his ears up n down bcuz he was told he couldn't. Pierced his own eyebrow 3 different times bcuz it keeps growin out. Knee brace due to arthritis, unfortunately. A shit load of sh scars bcuz he always tries to act so stoic n unbothered around everyone else, that it led to him breaking down all the time in private bcuz he wasn't allowin himself to feel things.

/\ They have a matchin stick n poke 'nevermore' tattoo bcuz they thought it'd be pretty dope n they wanted to connect themselves with eachother via blood usin the same needle (don't do that, it's not great to get other people's blood in ya) \/

PETE: Dude's mom is extremely supportive of him bein goth, so much so that she was the one dyin his hair as a kid bcuz he asked. He has a very specific style that he likes n sometimes he goes through his grandpa's old shit to find stuff to wear (usually altering it to be more dark in appearance).

(There are others I have designs for, but bcuz I haven't posted them much, imma just stop here.)

Enjoy this fuckin novel, bro. Thank you. And I'm sorry, but I'm a full homo kind of guy

[paisholotus]

Hard Times

T'challa x black fem reader

Summary: T’Challa’s wife is dealing with the after effects of having a baby.

Warnings: Postpartum Depression, Strong Language, Mentions Of Suicidal Thoughts

Translations: Sthandwa (My Love) Intombazana yomntwana ( Baby Girl) Uthando lwam (Beloved) Ukumkanikazi wam ( My Queen) Ndiyakuthanda ( I Love You) Ndiyakuthanda, nawe ( Love You, Too) Nobabini ( Both Of You)

❗DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED❗

Requested By: @bluesapphire2

A/N: This MF Long. But I hope you like it fren. And I hope y'all like it

3rd Pov

It’s the most glorifying day for the kingdom of Wakanda. A new heir has been born.

Princess Lesedi Udaku came into the world. Her name meaning “Ray Of Light”, she gave that to her family and everyone who knew about her.

Except for the most important person. Her mother. Who couldn't seem to have any light in her eyes, when she looked at her daughter.

The King T’Challa fawned over his daughter even more since she was born. She was a perfect mix of him and his wife, having both of your features. T’Challa’s high cheekbones, your smooth coco brown skin, his tight curls, and your big beautiful brown eyes. She was beyond the words perfect, she was everything he could have imagined. T'challa thanks Bast every day, for bringing his beloved Intombazana yomntwana into the world.

➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️

Y/N Pov

I looked at her and felt nothing but emptiness. I couldn’t help the blank expression on my face when I held her close to my chest, holding her skin to skin. It’s not that i didn’t love her. How could i not love her? SHE'S FUCKING MINE, FOR BAST SAKE! Shit, I begged for her. I spent 9 months caring and nurturing her, but why did i feel nothing when she looked at me? I felt absolutely nothing, and it was gut wrenching. I waited and prayed for my child, and she's gets here and I couldn't feel nothing. What is wrong with me?

T’Challa, being the observant husband he was, noticed the joy i had during my pregnancy disappeared once our child actually came. His face held concern every time he looked at me. I would hear him ask his mother Ramonda, about what was wrong with me, and she simply replied with: “My son, she spent 12 hours in labor trying to give birth to your daughter. She is exhausted, mentally and physically. Give her time, she'll be fine and back to herself in no time."

It's been two weeks, i had multiple mood swings. I was irritable, and having thoughts about my baby that i shouldn't be having. And it scared the hell out of me, because Bast knows i would never hurt my baby. I didn't have the strength to be around my little girl, but I was constantly sad because i wasn’t around her.

What added to my stress was me not producing enough milk as much as i wanted to. I already felt like i didn't bond with her, but now I couldn't do the SIMPLEST THING which is feed my baby. I slowly felt myself getting more and more depressed. I started thinking what good is it for me to be here, if I couldn't feel any love for my child. I truly felt broken.

T'challa walked into the room as I paced back and forth beside the bed. “Why am I feeling this way, T’Challa?!” i questioned him angrily as hot tears ran down my cheeks.

He looked like he didn't know what to say, but walked towards me. “I-I do- I do not know, my love, but it'll get better. You know I'm always here for you." He said, reaching out for me.

I glared at him backing away taking in a ragged breathe. I angrily placed my hands on the sides of my head, and let out a choked sob. I looked back at him, his eyes glossy and a frown on his face. And it made me Angry! Not because of him, because of the stress and worry I was putting him through. It just seemed like I couldn't do ANYTING FUCKING RIGHT!

“Get out, T’Challa.” i turned my back away from him, so he wouldn't see me crying, and walked towards the bed, to get in the covers. When he attempted to grab me, i pushed him away.

“I SAID FUCKING LEAVE!” He slowly backed away, and began walking out of the room. I got in the bed and pulled the covers over my head, and began sobbing. What is happening to me?

➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️

T’Challa’s Pov

I went to the doctor monitoring Y/N and Lesedi. The doctor informed me that it was common for her to be extremely sad, which occurs in a lot of women after giving birth.

“The Queen is suffering from postpartum depression, my king.” he told me. I looked at him confused.

“I've never heard of this....depression.” i was genuinely confused. I did not know she was depressed. How could i not see this? I just want to understand why.

“How is she depressed? She gave birth to the child we begged Bast for? I don't understand why she isn't happy. I said, looking at the doctor who gave me a sympathetic look.

“It’s not that she is not happy, T'challa. Her hormones, her worries, the stress of dealing with a newborn, can all bring upon this depression.” he said. He went to grab his clip board and started naming all the symptoms of Postpartum Depression.

anger

anxiety

guilt

hopelessness

loss of interest or pleasure in activities

mood swings

panic attacks

I folded my arms and frowned at each symptom he named. My Love was going through all this this?

Uncontrollable crying

irritability

restlessness

 fatigue or loss of appetite

depression or fear

The thought of Y/N feeling like this, and trying to deal with it by herself hurt me. I felt tears brim my eyes but I quickly held my composure. I needed to be strong for Y/N, and to make sure she knew I was here for her.

I now had a better understanding, and thanked him, taking my leave to check on Y/N. I don't know what's going on with my Uthando lwam, but I will not stop until I figure it out.

➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️➖️

3rd Pov

T'challa walked in the room to see you in the bedroom again curled up in a ball. You were in bed with a pained look on your face. Y/N saw his face, and looked like she wanted to cry even more. This wasn’t only hurting you, it was hurting him too. It was hurting the baby. He got into bed and after a few moments of silence, he spoke.

"I need you to tell me what's going on with you, Sthandwa."

Y/N sighed deeply, shaking her head and turning away from him.

“You won’t understand, T’Challa.”He turned your body back towards him and stared into your eyes. “You’re not letting me understand. We are one, Ukumkanikazi wam. You can't keep shutting me out. I need you, our daughter needs you." He said, softly.

"She deserves a mother that’s happy to be around her and I’m not. I feel EMPTY! And I don’t understand because those 9 months I spent with her in my STOMACH, I felt so close to her but now she’s actually here and I don't feel ANYTHING! LIKE WHAT IS THE POINT?! I CAN'T FEED HER RIGHT! EVERY TIME I TRY TO HOLD HER SHE CRIES! AND IT'S MY FAULT BECAUSE WE DON'T HAVE A BOND! I just feel like she'll be better off without me." She said, As tears streamed down her face.

He grabbed your face. “D-Do...... Do not say that! You are everything to me and you are everything to her. Do not say you are nothing! AND SHE WOULDN'T BE BETTER OFF! AND NEITHER WOULD I! WE NEED YOU! this WORLD and this COUNTRY NEEDS YOU! Do you understand?" Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, and cried into his shoulder and slowly nodded.

T'challa rubbed her back soothingly and kissed the side of her head, and turned her head so she could look at him. "I need you. Our daughter needs you. This kingdom needs you. You have to believe me when I say you are needed.”

After a hour of them comforting each other, T'challa got an idea, and kissed Y/N's head saying he'll be right back. Y/N sat up against the headboard and watched her husband walk out. Y/N sat in thought and tried to think positive, her and T'challa was going to make it through this, she'll just have to keep fighting.

T'challa walked in carrying Lesedi as she dranked from her baby bottle. T'challa got In bed beside his Queen, and slowly handed Lesedi to Y/N. She carefully took her and stared into her big brown eyes. Lesedi stared at her mama and reached her little chubby arm up and placed her hand on her mama's cheek, smiling letting out a gurgling noise.

Suddenly, it all hit her. A rush of happiness, joy, and love came barreling into Y/N, tears streaming down her face, as she started laughing. Y/N prepped many kisses on her daughters face. This is your daughter. This is yours. All yours. You knew you loved her with every fiber of your being, but now you finally felt it, and it was the most indescribable feeling you ever felt in your life.

T'challa looked at his wife with tears in his own eyes, and scooted over wrapping his arm around her back, and kissed her cheek.

"Ndiyakuthanda." He whispered to her. She turned to look at him with the biggest smile he's seen in a long time. "Ndiyakuthanda, nawe." And kissed his lips, pulling away and looking back at her daughter. "Nobabini"

[carmenized-onions]

Carved In. | Secondary Invoice

logline; Carmen begins to realize, that before you were Tony to him, you were a lot of other things, to a lot of people.

[!!!] series history, this is the eighth; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. Link was broken last week, spoofy fixed it, we ball.

portion; 4.6k

possible allergies; uhhhh, carmy pov this time, so a bit of a warped and screwed perception of self and the people around him, yknow. Some Italian shit is said, I do not fucking speak Italian, I cross-referenced to the best of my abilities if I fucked up, my BAD.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader

i really like this one, feel like i'm reentering the groove now. hopefully you do too, and if you do, you better pop an essay in my inbox mf

It has been three weeks since Carmen met you in a freezer.

Six days since you were at his apartment. Ish.

Roughly forty-three weeks since the worst day of his life. Doesn’t feel like it.

There are five days, until the third or fourth worst day of Carmen Anthony Berzatto’s life.

But today is Monday, and he doesn’t know what’s coming yet. Though, he feels it, in the air, like static thrumming before lightning inevitably strikes him. But he doesn’t know what it is, where it’s coming from, or how to stop it.

He doesn’t need to, right now, because he’s very comfortable with you in his arms. So why are you ruining it right now—

“I gotta take this, Carm—” He’s holding you down. “If it’s an emergency they’ll call back.” And will continue to do so.

“Baby, they’ve called like four times.”

“These aren’t your business hours.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t have business hours. That’s kind of my whole thing.” He knows that. He knows that better than anyone that you’re on call. But, on-call for him. Selfish, he knows. And also, not correct, you’re a business. He doesn’t super care, right now, though.

You manage to wiggle your arm just that extra inch to grab your ringing phone off the bedside table. He’s grumbling as you pick up the call, face in the crook of your neck.

“Chicago’s Kindest, fixers and co— How can I help ya?”

It’s nice, to see another new side of you, the business side, despite the fact that he didn’t really want to see it, right now. It’s so early. It’s six thirty, you’re supposed to be doing puzzles with him and then forcing him to go back to bed. This is wildly unfair. The man speaking to you with the thick and panicked Italian accent over the phone is doing this on purpose, to spite him specifically, Carmen knows this for a fact.

“Oh fuck, yeah that’s not good. You’re okay though, right? Like no one hurt?”

He hopes they’re okay. If only so it’s one less thing for you to take care of, for whoever this is. He wonders if this guy called saying his sister was giving birth, if you’d rush over, first thing. You probably would, you’re you. That’s what you do. He shouldn’t think like this, but for some reason, this phone call is making him feel wildly un-special.

“Mhm. Well, that’s good, at least.” You nod, a pensive look on your face. Carmen stares at you, not that far from your face, you break character to stick your tongue out at him. Adorable. In the literal sense. Nothing short of adored.

“Yeah, I can come take a look at it, I have a feeling what it might be. Not a hazard, don’t worry.” No… This is a nightmare, this is his personal hell… Tell your dad to come out of retirement this one time, please. Arthritis is probably fake anyways, his hands seize during prep all the time and it’s fine—

You hang up, putting your phone down somewhere on the pillow, it will inevitably get lost into the ether despite being right next to you. You look down to Carmen, who’s laying half on top of you. He is… Displeased, certainly. His hold does not ease up.

“Diner’s flat-top broke.”

“And?”

“They specialize in breakfast.”

“And?”

You laugh, throwing your head back. “You would be so mad if your fixer delayed your whole breakfast rush just so she could spend a few more moments with the hot guy in her bed.”

He’s honoured, that you’d be willing to give him the adjective hot. “I would be so mad if my fixer had a hot guy in her bed.”

This flusters you, immediately, so you just push his face away with the palm of your hand, forcing him away. He kisses the palm of your hand upon contact. Too sweet.

“Shut up, you’ll come with me, I’ll get you breakfast there.” This is more a punishment than the gift you think it is. If someone other than him needs to be the one to make you breakfast, then at least let it be one of his cooks doing so.

“Them and what stove?”

How many versions of your work uniform do you have? Navy cargo pants, again, and a navy sweater this time. Perfectly fitted, Chicago’s Kindest logo embroidered into the top left, bright white, nearly glittering. A large flannel tied around your waist with all the same patches from your jumpsuit on it. Also all the same oil stains, virtually. It was your dad’s version of the patch shtick, you explain. Most of your jackets seem to be from your dad. Plus Carmen’s. Of which you don over your sweater in the Chicago winter weather. He’s trying to not look as happy as he is about this.

According to the overview you gave him in the car, this is your second favourite place in the area. Second favourite diner, to The Beef. Now that it’s The Bear, this place might take first place in your list of favourite trashy food spots. La Mattina Dopo. The Morning After. Carm wants to make a joke about this, but debates whether or not that’d be creepy for so long that the moment passes.

Carmen’s shocked he hasn’t been here before, it’s extremely up his alley. Literally. It’s like, two blocks down his alley.

There’s a big light up sign for Italian ice, and a burly older Italian man, up front, waiting for you. Carmen stands behind you, holding your tools, because he refused to let you. He’s a gentleman, alright? His mom didn’t teach him much, but he got that part down pat.

This fellow restaurant owner practically shrieks in relief, upon just seeing you. Groaning, “Oh, grazie a Dio, cazzo...” It’s clear this isn’t your first job here. And now that Carm’s seen the logo of the diner, on their obnoxious neon sign, he can match it to one of the patches on your flannel.

The man’s hands dwarves your hand, when he shakes it, hugging your hand with both of his. He’s deeply thankful that you’re just here, before you’ve even fixed anything.

You were right, Carmen thinks, you always are, but you’re especially right right now. Getting fucked by broken equipment is a nightmare, getting fucked during a rush? And it’s fucking rush hour breakfast? Fuck breakfast.

Carm can imagine, and also see in real time, how much ease you bring to every space you ever enter, with your stupid little logo on your stupid twenty-million pairs of clothes with it. God, you’re perfect.

“Sit, sit, sit, sit!” You’re grabbing your bags from Carmen as soon as you step inside the greasy spoon. You trade your tools from his arms with his jacket from yours. Shooing him off as you rush to the back of house. “I’ll be so quick. You won’t even miss me.” Not possible.

Carmen picks the farthest back booth in the corner, by the window. These leather seats are the least worn in, the sun comes in but not so much that it’s blinding, it’s objectively the best booth. He fiddles with his fingers, tracing his own tattoos. The place is relatively empty, since they’ve got a sign on their window saying ‘Griddle’s Fucked, BRB’. Classy.

He watches you through the serving hatch, working in the back. Good grief, you are so pretty when you work. It’s disrespectful, he needs to see you as the working woman you are, but it’s kind of impossible. You make it impossible. The golden hour of sunrise is hitting you just right. God, why do you have to be here and not at home right now?

“Can I get you a cup, Jack?” Jack? You’re Tony. Well, not really. But you’re Tony. Who’s this guy think he is, calling you nicknames Carm’s never had the honour of hearing, that you’ve probably had years before knowing him?

God, Tony is a new name for you. That’s weird. That’s so weird. It's one of many.

“At least some ice, c’mon, it’s boilin’ here.” It’s true. Sweater was a bad call. But it’s so cute.

“Ah, I’m good f’now, but ‘tuh—” You nod to Carmen through the window, grinning when you catch him staring. He’s finally honoured rather than nervous about this. “—Can you get Boss a coffee? He takes it…” You lean through the hatch, calling to him. “Uh, Carmy, how do you take it? Black?”

He takes it how you make it, lavender and maple syrup. Black coffee, no milk, but foam on top. Dried lavender, lined down the middle of the foam as garnish. It’s the best coffee he’s ever had in his life. Better than any bodega he ever stopped at in New York, better than anything anyone handed off to him at the French Laundry, better than Luca. That’s how he takes it.

“Black, yeah.”

He can’t tell if he likes when you call him boss. He thinks he does. That might be problematic. He's too distracted by the thought to notice you flinching when you realize where he's sitting.

You nod, smiling big, then turn back to the owner. What’s this guy’s name, even? “Black, for ‘em. Big fuckin’ thing of black cherry for him too, we’ll split it.”

How’d you know he likes black cherry? Lucky guess? Is it just your favourite, coincidentally? Probably.

The man claps your back, “Anythin’ for you, cara.” He calls out your order— Or is it Carmen’s order? —To a nearby bus boy.

If this man wasn’t old enough to be your father, and is clearly just acting like a father figure, Carmen would probably maybe a little a lot be freaking out. But you’re fine, so he’s fine. You duck down where Carmen can’t see you, presumably to the ‘Fucked Griddle’.

“So, what I was thinking it might be is—” Carmen has to strain his ears to hear you from this distance as you stop projecting your voice for him, but he manages just fine. “So— Basically, the fire wasn’t the problem, it was the sprinklers. They flooded the inside wiring here, which, they’re insulated so that’s fine but—”

Is this what he sounds like when he explains a dish to you? The mechanics of things was never really his forte. If it works, it works, and you make something with it. And hey, even if he was stuck, he has you to know for him, now. You know the wiring, the plumbing, the everything. Carmen has no fucking idea what you’re talking about, but he likes that you’re talking.

“Yeah, so see here?” And you’re willing to teach? Aye, Marone... “That’s what’s fucked, your thermocouple. It’s like, essentially a temp sensor. Makes sure shit’s cold when it needs to be cold and hot when it needs to be hot. If it’s broken, whole thing won’t turn on.”

“And is broken?” Says the man squatting down next to you. Carmen can’t see you nodding, rubbing your hand over your face, tiredly. “It’s broken.”

“You fix?”

“I would. Or I will, but—” You stand up, ah, like the sun, you have once more risen for Carmen to see through the hatch. “It’s like, the one fuckin’ part I don’t keep stocked up on. I’ll have to call in an order, I know a guy, I uh…” You kiss your teeth. “I can probably get this done by like, Wednesday, at earliest?”

The man next to you groans painfully, Carmen can feel it, in his bones. Flat top broken for two fucking days? And it was because of a fire? Or no— Not a fire— The fucking sprinklers? He’s getting punished for safety? Surely there is no Just God. But the man nor Carmen can be mad, looking at your guilt-ridden face. Most repairmen would be lying through their teeth, right now, but both men can tell, this really is the one part you don’t keep stock of, and you really do have connections— You’ve got your phone out, and you’re texting a million different people asking for help. They’re all just not nearly as giving as you are. It is impossible to be mad at someone trying to help this hard.

The bus boy finally comes up to Carmen’s booth, “Black coffee and black cherry for the man.” The way he says the man, is like, the verbal form of wiggling eyebrows. Your man, is what he means by that. Carmen likes that idea. Your man. The one you brought to tag along with you on a job. He’s your man, to these people, at least.

“Thanks.” He nods, the bus boy smiles and walks off. The black cherry Italian ice is big, as you requested. Definitely dished out in a bowl meant for a two-person sundae, two spoons already in it, for his convenience. He doesn’t dare touch it without you. He takes a sip of his coffee.

It’s fine. It’s just fine. Well, maybe it’s great. It could quite frankly be the best cup of joe in the entirety of Chicago and Carmen wouldn’t give a fuck. You didn’t make it. Therefore, it’s just fine. He’d take your hot chocolate with the shitty pre-packaged mix over the best cup of coffee, any day.

More notably, to Carm, is when he puts the cup back down on the saucer, he notices it for the first time. Your name. Shoddily carved into the table. He seems to have inadvertently stumbled upon a relic of you. Was your name carved in at The Beef’s old tables? Has he gotten rid of you, before, without realizing?

You rush back to Carmen, after sorting some things out with the Head. You speak hastily as you speed towards him, tucking your phone in your pocket. “I’m gonna be right back, doll, I just gotta give ‘em my hot plate, thank God I was lazy and left it in my trunk all week.”

Getting called doll is a decent salve to the fact that—“Oh, you just give that out to everyone?” He’s joking, but he’s not. Un-special.

It’s selfish, but he wishes that extra 10% you give out unabashedly was reserved for him. You roll your eyes, messing with his hair, and give him a kiss on the top of his head. This is an acceptable answer, but once again, you go above and beyond.

“They need something to tithe them over ‘til one of their line cooks gets back with a rented out flat-top. And I said I’d get you fuckin’ breakfast, didn’t I? They need to cook it somehow.” You grin, he has no come back for this, you’re perfect. “They make good fuckin’ smash burgers, here. With the perfect over medium egg. You’re gonna love it.”

“…M'sure I will.” He’d do it better. He could do it so much better.

…

Why did every thought in his head just get so tantrically sexual, Jesus Christ. La Mattina Di, more like. Relax!

“This you?” Carmen coughs, quickly. He doesn’t need to have cover, you’re not a psychic— Probably— and yet he still feels flush about it. He points to your name, carved into the table. You blink, looking at it. You swallow and nod. He cannot tell which emotion comes first, joyful nostalgia or trepidation. But he knows they both come.

“My name,” You nod. “But not my handiwork… Mikey did it.” Oh.

“Oh.” He doesn’t know how to react, and to you, that comes off as just simply unreadable.

“Yeah,” You nod, smile returning, though it’s sheepish. Hesitant. You pat his shoulder, already half-stepping away from him. “It’s a funny story, I’ll tell you about it in a sec, just gonna get that hot plate, Bear.”

You walk off, quickly, heading out to your car parked on the side of the street. He could watch you through the window, instead, he opts to stare at the carving his brother did.

Forgive the man, he’s a bit dense when it comes to these things, or maybe he just has selective hearing— But. Whenever you had talked about Mikey, he took it in the way everyone talked about Mikey. Everyone was friends with Mikey. That’s just how he made people feel. Everyone loved him, he made any person in the room feel like the light of his fucking life; it’s a talent you have in common, with the dead man.

So, it really hadn’t occurred to him, until this very moment, staring at the shaky lettering, that not only was Michael Berzatto your best friend, you were his, too. He let you in. Mikey’s name isn’t carved in here, he didn’t do a fuckin’ ‘Besties’ or both your names in a heart— And for some reason, that makes this feel worse. Mikey didn’t do this as a show of affection or to make you feel like the center of his universe, he carved your name in this table because he wanted to. And that is more tender than any fucking ‘BFF’ tag could be. For his brother, at least.

Carmen can’t tell who he’s jealous of, right now. It’s definitely both, but he’s not sure which one is the more predominant. On one hand, he didn’t get to be friends with his brother the way you did, apparently. You got to know a side of his brother that he simply will never get to know, at least not first hand. And that’s fucking gutting. But it’s also in no way your fault.

On the other hand, Mikey got to know you. Got to watch you quit being a paramedic, maybe console you about it, even. Got to drink your cups, before Carmen did— Hell, you probably tested recipes on him. Carmen knows their coffee machine is fucked, you absolutely had a shit ton of practice with it in order to make anything brilliant let alone edible.

Mikey got to have you, got to go to diners with you, carve names in booths with you, neg you for not smoking with him, probably give you his jacket on cold nights, come in for late night fixes— For years before Carmen got to even meet you. And you knew Mikey, when’d you say? Two? Three years ago? Give or take? After that Christmas, probably. After he went to New York. After he and Mikey just… Fully stopped talking. You said it yourself, you knew Mikey when he wasn’t letting people know him.

Carmen is so new to your life, but his life isn’t new to you at all. You’ve been in his universe, forever. You’ve been friends with Syd since you were kids, on the same block. You’ve been friends with The Beef before he was. You know Uncle Jimmy. Fuck, you were even friends with fucking Richie, during his worst era. And actually, matter of fact, who cares about Jack— What the fuck does Chippy mean?

The first time Carm heard it was while Sugar was in fucking labour, he didn’t have time to ask. Why’s Richie got a personalized nickname for you? Of all people? Why do these aspects make him feel nauseous? They shouldn’t. They really shouldn’t. It’s a blessing, it’s like, probably what it feels like for people with normal families, when your girlfriend gets along with your parents.

But it doesn’t feel good, right now. It feels hollow. Like he missed out, on getting to experience so much with you. With his brother. With The Beef. He should’ve been here. He wants the old nicknames, he wants the claimed booth, he wants the permanence. He wants to be your man. He wants to have been your man. If he had been, for the past three years, you would probably be talking about moving in together, by now.

Okay, now he needs to pivot back to carnal thoughts because this is so much crazier. Objectively, you would make a good roommate, though, and that should probably be said—

You’re back. You’ve handed off the dual burner to the kitchen, put your orders in, and you’re back, sliding into the booth with him. You’ve already grabbed your spoon from the bowl. 

“I ordered for you; that okay?” You ask before unceremoniously shoving the spoon full of black cherry Italian ice in your mouth. Carmen nods, picking up his own spoon. He misses the fact that you usually share utensils, since you’re always trying something. But he’ll survive.

“Black cherry’s my go-to.” He mumbles, sorbet in his mouth. When’s the last time he’s had a food he considers a favourite? It’s always new, not nostalgia.

“I know.”

“You know?” Carmen squints. Your nonchalant expression changes, realizing that he’s not in this memory.

“Ah. Mikey.” You lean back in your booth, realizing. You nod to the bowl. “Uh, black cherry is also my favourite. And uhm, he’d— I’d order it, and he’d go ‘Aye, that’s Carmy’s’,” You do your best impression, you and Carmen cannot help but chuckle. “And I’d go sure man, and he’d do that a solid— Every fucking time I ordered black cherry.”

You laugh, it’s practically an inside joke for you, only you, at this point. Carmen’s stuck wondering how many things you just inherently know about him. Is that why you’re so good with him? Or are you just like that? It’s probably both. It’s definitely both.

“So, just hard to forget, out of repetition at this point.”

But also, Mikey paid attention to that stuff? Retained it? Told people, about him? About his favourites?

Carmy smiles, “Y’know any other favourites, of mine?”

You think on it for a second, taking another spoonful of ice, eyes looking up to nowhere. “You’d never be so pretentious to ask someone their brand, but you smoke Red 100s.”

So good. You’re so good. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

You grin, overjoyed to be right, so good— You knock on the top of your head. “Like a steel trap, this memory.”

The silence collects between you two, comfortably. And then, Carmen taps his knuckles on your name on the table. You jump, not flinching, just remembering, ironic. “Oh! Right!”

You trace the letters with your free hand, eating sorbet with the other. “So, Mikey and I typically eat—Ate, here a lot, practically own this booth, and I’d made some joke about claiming it as ours, making like, a plaque to put above it. And he said we don’t need no fancy-shmancy plaque; we can just mark it.”

You grab one of the butter knives from the caddy on the table. “He picked up one of these, as a joke, initially, but then I said that there’s no way you can carve into wood with a fuckin’ butter knife— And this, of course, incensed him— Practically a double dog dare, to him.”

You’re good at daring people without daring people. Or at least, Berzatto men.

“And so, he was like, oh yeah? And proceeded to carve my name in—Painstakingly slowly, obviously, in—” You do air quotes, “‘My honour and shame’, for being so wrong.”

Carmen smiles, slightly, because that seems like probably the appropriate reaction to have. He takes a long time swallowing the black cherry ice, so he doesn’t have to speak. Is he bothered, by this story? He thinks he’s bothered, by this story. He’s jealous of both of you. He’s infinitely jealous of both of you, and insult to injury, you and Mikey are so… Similar.

Sugar said it best. The air. The temperature. You control it, you make it so easy for him to be bold, be wanting, and express that. Like Mikey did, though, not in the same way, obviously. Mikey did it through pissing him off. But— You both make it possible for him to feel like he’s above water.

The similarity between you—Carmen imagines in these few brief seconds before it’s his turn to talk again— must’ve brought you closer together. Closer than Carmen could be, to you, ever. He’s too sharp, jagged, compared to Mikey. He will never be able to fill the gap where his brother was.

Hold on.

Is he just filling a gap, for you?

It’s his turn to talk. “Fuckin’ sounds like ‘em. Didn’t do his own name, though?”

You shake your head, thank God, you didn’t see this play out on his face, “It was objectively hard to carve with a butter knife, he was determined to get me down and after that it really didn’t matter. We would’ve been there all fuckin’ day.”

The bus boy soon arrives with your orders. Smash burger with cheese and a fried egg for Carmy, B-E-C on sourdough for you— “Your usual, Jack.”

“What’s with Jack?” Carm asks, once the waiter walks off.

“Oh, it’s like, classic nickname for me— M’Dad calls me Jack, work calls me Jack, it’s cause of, uh, Jack of All Trades, master of none— All that. It’s corny, but it stuck.”

“But I like Tony,” You add, shrugging, “It’s a cute change.”

Carm nods to the owner in the back, that he still doesn’t know the name of. “What's boss' name, by the way?” You laugh suddenly, shaking your head.

“You're gonna laugh.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Know why?”

Carmen tilts his head, a genuine smile crawling up his face. You speak at once.

“His name’s Tony.” “His name’s Tony?”

You nod emphatically, giggling. God, you make things fun. You make 8 am breakfast fun. He could seriously make a better smash burger, though, you need to be taught better standards. You also need to be taught NYT Connections as you do it for the first time over breakfast together. You’re kind of getting better. Carmy does have to give you hints, but he prefers it that way, prefers to be needed by you for a change. The idea of being a seat warmer completely leaves his mind, for now.

The meal is comped, despite both of your reservations about it. You assure Tony that you’ll be back on Wednesday to fix his flat-top first thing that morning. Everyone knows you mean that.

Carmen could more than easily walk to The Bear, but you drive him so you can squeeze in that little extra time together before you’ve gotta do… Tasks or whatever it is you do. Very important things, he imagines. Please don’t have a shift at Eden’s tonight, he’ll explode.

When you park in the back, his head is between wanting to kiss you and wanting to leave as soon as possible in fear of saying the wrong thing or learning the wrong thing. You come to his rescue without realizing; you kiss his cheek.

“Have a good day at work, call me if you need anythin’, and if you don’t, still call me. Please.”

“You can come in, for a bit— f’you want.” Carve your name into your favourite booth, maybe. Well, you shouldn't, The Bear is supposed to be classy, but maybe on the underside? Only you and him would know it's there.

You turn from Carm to look at the back of The Bear. You seem… Uneasy? Trepidatious? You’re not scared, he doesn’t think, but he’s also never seen you scared, he thinks, so he’s not sure he’d know what that looks like.

“I’m uh, I’m okay, I got some stuff I need to get done but ‘tuh—” You thrum your fingers against the steering wheel, hesitating, biting your lip. Clearly there’s something you want, Carmy just has no earthly idea what it could be. Name it. Name anything. He’ll give you anything.

“Can you— Can you, uh— tell Richie I said hi?”

Richie? Fucking Richie? Not Syd? Fuck, he’d even take Tina, here. Richie? You want him to say hi for you to Richie?

“Yeah, yeah I can do that—Uhm—” Carmen puts his pointer finger over his mouth, he’ll let this go, for now, but there’s another sticking point that he can’t. He opens the door with one hand, but turns his body to face you. He points at you. “Can you uhm— Like, uh— Next time—”

No, it’s not on you actually, he decides. You look confused, when Carm waves it off, “Uh, Nevermind.”

“What’s up, Carm?” You're cute when you're worried.

“Nothin’, nothin’s up. I— Hm.”

He curls his hand in the air into a fist, he leans forward in his seat, and takes a soft hold of your chin, quick kiss before immediately rushing out of the car, words just as hurried. He does not want to give you a minute to question it.

“I’ll call you after work, cara mia.”

It's hard to imagine a Chicago accent saying Cara Mia but I did feel like it was appropriate to say so--

If it wasn't clear, because most things I say aren't, he didn't love another Italian Restaurant Owner calling you Cara. But also, it's not like he can tell you to tell people to stop saying Cara. That's weird. And also not on you. But he can claim it for himself.

Uhhhh anything of note to say on this one, hmm. OH RIGHT. Yeah that was fuckin' crazy with the whole Mikey spiral eh? It's fun writing Carm's perspective, because he's always just going insane. Me core.

Sewing the seeds of a terrible Friday hahahahahahhahahahahaha

And he finally questioned Chippy! Not out loud but at least internally-- And what's up with you feeling weird and wanting to say hi to Richie??? What are YOU up to??!?!?!?!

Breakfast was cute though. Always is. Is it too late to rename this series the breakfast club? I am joking. Please do not start calling this series the breakfast club.

Anyways, as always, please leave me a gigantic essay of thoughts somewhere I can read them and have a wondaful rest of ya day baby. Have no clue when the next chapter will come out your guess is as good as mine motherfucker.

Next Part

[bohemian-nights]

Is the writers playing again with us or what? Ryan said audience is gonna hate the Blacks next season and yet it seems they're doing everything to make them look better than how they're supposed to be in the book (?)

Book Rhaenyra: Useless in the whole Dance. She does nothing but crying over her dead children and whining and rage over Daemon not returning to her.

Show Rhaenyra: More active in the Dance only they know how lmao in love with Daemon but after the choking who knows (?)

Book Daemon: Doesn't give shit about Rhaenyra or family, but only power. Cheating on her and ultimately betrays her for a younger woman.

Show Daemon: Idk about his feelings for Rhaenyra. He sends contraddicting signs, sometimes he looks a bit caring, many other times indifferent and at the end MAD at her. Yet he seems more loyal and devoted to family, defenitely cause of Viserys but it's like he feels to have a endless debt to pay cause of him or something? I don't see love but obsession and yet this obsession make him more sympathetic.

Book Daemyra: He takes her virginity, cause yes in the book Daemon actually sleep with Rhaenyra and there are witnesses who claims that and he does that FOR THE THRONE, while Nyra falls for him. Yes she's weird as hell. Anyway, only wife Daemon loved in his life was Laena. Never cheated on her and always respected her. He doesn't love Rhaenyra at all and only marry her for political reasons. The wedding is described as scandalous. Far from each others during the Dance except when they're taking KL, but whole time before that Daemon is at Harrenhal and after that at Maidenpool, in both occasions, riding someone else lmao By the end Darmon betrays her orders and suicide or faked his death rather than returning to her.

Show Daemyra: Daemon feels guilty and has no guts to sleep with her cause actually cares for Rhaenyra in his weird way, but he does. Daemon is bothered by Laena who says she knows she's the second choice cause she does know about his obsession for Viserys who pushed him on being obsessed with Nyra, what a mess, and before that Daemon even is flirting with a man right in front of her salad! Rhaenyra making soulmates speech and proposing to him, the Valyrian wedding to make them romantic. Dance starts, idk if he will cheat on her chance is 50/50 to me at this point, but leaks is saying she's reaching Daemon to Harrenhal. Nettles might risk to be cut out to make them some Bonnie & Clyde shit. Lol i don't understand when they say writers is pro Green cause they made Daemon & Rhaenyra much better than book, especially Daemon. He's way much worse in the book than in the Show. In the Show he seems more human and emotional, yeah he doesn't express emotions like the others, but in the book he seems the coldest emotionless mf till he meets Nettles. Only her has been capable to warm and melt that ice heart, so now im wondering are they gonna do that cause of Rhaenyra? I don't understand writers, i swear. I know ep 10 things went down bad, but according the choices they made currently it doesn't seems they want the ship to sank as canonically does.

Are we watching the same thing? Dumbnyra hasn't been shown in a positive light on the show. Daemon has been using Missy Anne. That’s been clear from the get go(people have just been ignoring it).

They started out with Daemon creeping on his underage niece. They have shown Daemon abandoning her on three separate occasions(brothel, her wedding, after dry beach sex).

They got zero chemistry. She’s had to beg his a** to marry her. Daemon literally abused Miss Maegor. He choked her out after she just gave birth, she was crying out for him and he ignored her, and he is only “obsessed” with her because of Gollum.

She’s replacement Gollum. He doesn’t actually want her(and her dumba** has daddy issues too which is why she’s hounding him and why she got giddy and started taunting him when she knew Gollum lover her now) and now he’s realizing Gollum wasn’t what he thought he was so he’s especially butthurt(and Mrs. Epps is afraid of his a** now).

This isn’t Boonie and Clyde or whatever other couple y’all want to compare them to.

S2 isn’t going to be Dumbnyra taking names and kicking butt(they are spending most of the season apart and it sounds like B&C will be a source of contention for them).

Dumbnyra both in the books and the show is not a romance. It’s never been a romance. It won’t be a romance.

They might be trolling a bit(to see people’s reaction to Nettles being cut), but Nettles isn't being cut from this show(s2 maybe, but not from the show). Valyrian Karen, Rhaena, Addam, or whoever else isn't replacing her.

[puppet2611]

//from 4.24.23

daniel said to write more in here and im in a5 brainrot hell so

THIS PART OF A5 WAS ACTUALLY TAKEN FROM AN EARILER CONCEPT OF LF...

ok so its nothing too specific or special - just that the characters zodiacs have a special part in their stories ig 💥💥

well it only rlly applies to micheal and adam ngl

micheals a goat and adams a monkey 💥💥 (im talking abt chinese/birth year zodiacs)

this doesnt go into anything too deep, goat just means sacrifice and monkey is just a reference to a monkeys paw

micheal is really the only thing the family ever had to sacrifice and it fits in with him being catholic soo why not!! adams just a horrible bad luck attractor btw. ollies luck is sm better when hes not around

oh yeah abt oliver i decided hes gonna either b transfem or bigender 👍👍 he/she prns r fine & he goes by oliver, ollie or oliver :]

might as well continue and finish it idk

olivers also bi-romantic & asexual :3

adam and micheal r both cissies/lhj... adams deadass just gay and micheal is panromantic asexual ^_^ only reason adams not ace is for my sillu dilly rps with mfs on chai/hj

I WISH I HAD SONGS TO ASSIGN THEM BUT I RLLY DINT HAVE ANYTHING RN... i guess olivias sweet tooth by cavetown but thats like it lmfao

THIS IS SO WRONG NOW... NEW MICHEAL CONCEPT (replying to micheals old concept design)

2nd img is after death/ in the afterlife !! dont mind the text

SHITPOST ART OF HIM FROM A MAGMA WITH BUGZ BTW 😭😭 its too goofy not to show

stupid gay/j

OH YEAH I HAVE TO ADD CONTEXT TO THIS BUT UHMM I WAS RPING AS ADAM WITH A RANDOM CHARACTER FROM A FANDOM IM IN AND THEY GOT TOO FRUITY. THIS POPPED IN MY MIND WHILE I WAS OUT SHOPPING W/ MY DAD 😦 the canon charaer on first img. im cringe and a oc x canon shipper

this was set after micheals death kind of in a au where adam doesnt get depression and fixates on him for years on end 💀 but anyways itd kinda be funny if it wasnt // if they had an open relationship but when micheal finds out hes just like. "you fucked the mf bishop of the basilica?? how am i gonna show up to church each week w/o him staring at me funny now." 😭😭

anyways that eas just a random thought

i was thinking that red would be yhe overall main color for the story :3c adam already wears red usually, red is practically going to be micheals main color in art concepts i have and oliver just looks good in it lol

oh i forgot to mention earlier

i havent done the math for what year oliver wouldve been born in but im thinking his zodiac would be a dog.. theres nothing big behind it either, its just that hes kinda lost w/o adam or micheal and would probably run back to them no matter what - slight reference to the song like a dog ^^ - but its also kinda based on the fact habit said he gave off doberman vibes lol

unless yall rlly wanna judge them based off their birth month zodiacs i dont think ill give them actual birthdays 💀 but micheals birthday is april 5, just because its kind of a main part to yhe story.. (ihy server stfu abt zodiacs for one second challenge fr. i got called slurs bcz im a leo)

mentioning this again!!

i have basic ideas on how to draw scenes attached to the lyrics now :)

"see how his feet miss the ground" - plain red background against two feet just kinda dangling from the top. the lyrics are right below the shadow

"and he falls inside a hole he dug for me" - i really didnt know what to for this even after hours of thinking since micheal never planned to kill adam or anything alike so i just opted to have adam standing there in shock again, against a plain red background. theres might be a little of that on his hands too :]

"the kind of irony youd read in bible stories" - shillouette of micheal sitting up jn his grave. the backgrounds still red. hes holding a white book with yellow text on it ^_^ you might be able to infer what the book is from the lyrics imo (replying to another msg. too long to include )

i might make a bunch more oc x canon (8:11) interactions soon too :33 or crossover stuff

like ryker meeting both emilio and oliver (mc meeting lol) or emilio meeting micheal since micheal wanted to be a priest but last minute settled for being a jeweler 😞

i deadass kinda want micheal to meet my friends oc felix but i have not the slightest idea how that would work

ooo micheal and aster meeting would be cool too ( old jewelery making mfs/silly )

Anyways that's all I've got for now!! i might come back jn a bit or some other time ^^

[alirhi]

Loki ranting

Okay. I had this thought in my head of like just compiling links of all the Loki shit I've posted/reblogged so far so that when I get into a conversation about the show and how it fucking disgusted me, I can just be like "here. here's this masterlist post, go read all this shit. This is my entire argument, and not only mine, but a lot of stuff posted by people far more intelligent and level-headed and eloquent than I am, whom I happen to agree with." Because the alternative is constantly getting fired up all over again, and that is exhausting.

BUT! I'm stupid and don't know how tumblr works. Apparently I can't just be like "give me all the Loki-tagged shit I've got" I can only search all the Loki-tagged shit on all of tumblr. And I'm not scrolling back through all of my posts. I talk too fucking much for that shit 😂

So, I'll try to remember all of my grievances with how the MCU has treated Loki, and all of the excellent posts made by other, equally upset fans, and put it all together here under this nice, neat little cut for everyone else's sanity and scrolling convenience...

For people who actually read my shit fairly regularly - bless you, you crazy, patient people. I love you! - this is going to be a lot of repetition of shit you've already read. Probably at least twice. I'm passionate and I have a terrible memory lol. Sorry.

Anyway, first, for those who don't know me and haven't been following my explosions of rage for the past couple of months, some quick background: I do not read comic books, so Loki's Marvel comic canon means nothing to me. I know almost nothing about it. The reason I'm so in love with the character in the MCU is because I am an eclectic witch and the deity I've actively loved and worshiped the longest in my life (literally for as long as I can remember) is Loki. So when he was mentioned in The Mask, I squeed. When they named Matt Damon's character after him in Dogma, I cheered.

When Thor came out in 2011, I just about died from happiness. I was hungry for any representation of this underappreciated god, no matter what it was. I didn't even bitch about how underpowered he was, because at least he was there. But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself.

I can hear anyone reading this going "Why Loki? Isn't he, like, evil? Like basically the Norse version of The Devil?" Because I heard all this shit irl all the fucking time. And no. So let me give you a quick rundown of who Loki actually is.

Loki is a Trickster God. He's often referred to as the God of Mischief. He is not and never was evil, simply chaotic and hedonistic. Loki Laufeyjarson was the son of Laufey (that's mama; they changed her to a man for some reason in the movie) and Fárbauti. Right from the start, from his name, we get a sign of how Loki goes against traditional norms of the time, because in Norse culture, families were patrilineal, and surnames were "son/daughter of father" (which would have made him Loki Fárbautitason), not the mother. But Loki's surname is matrilineal. Feminist icon woo! lol

Though he's a Jotunn, Loki is counted among the Gods (Aesir) in Norse tradition. Depending on his mood, he is alternately helpful or disruptive to the other Gods. I'm not gonna sit and teach a whole text class on him lol but I'll use my favorite example of Misunderstood Loki - the conception of Sleipnir!

So, get this shit. This is also part of why I DO NOT follow Odin and never fucking will (a very small part, but still part of the reason). So, the other Norse Gods are petty motherfuckers, and they wanted some shit built but didn't want to pay the dude doing the building. So they were like "okay, if you can get it done in X amount of time, we'll pay you, but if you can't manage it NO MATTER WHAT, this whole thing is free." And they made sure he had NO help, nothing but him, his materials, and his Very Good Horsey. And this guy and his horse were fucking BAMFs. So it was looking like he was definitely gonna get it done in time, and Odin was like "nah, fuck that shit. I'm cheap." and so he sent Loki to distract the work horse. Loki transformed into a mare and lured the horse away, got fucked, got pregnant, gave birth to the 8-legged (for some reason) horse Sleipnir. Odin rides Loki's son into battle. Um. Kay.

So Loki helped Odin be a petty mf, and Odin got himself a new pet out of the deal.

Oh, also, because he's smart af and a shapeshifter and a master magician and genderfluid, Loki "fails" to fit the super fucking toxic and narrow Norse/Aesir view of "a real man". He prefers intelligence and manipulation to solve problems rather than violence, he's not afraid to behave like a clown if it gets shit done, and that grosses the Aesir out, so they constantly ridicule him for being "less than a man".

Loki is the God of the outcast and the misunderstood. The marginalized people from all walks of life. He is the God of the LGBT community. In modern terms, he's pansexual, polyamorous (married to Sigyn and they are deeply in love, but boy gets around and I've never seen any indication that Sigyn gives a shit) and genderfluid.

Okay. Focus, Ali. This is part of why I usually post multiple rants instead of one big long one XD The longer I ramble, the more I get sidetracked and forget the original point.

So. Loki's awesome, and being a Trickster, is powerful as all fucking hell. There's not much he can't do.

And now we come to Thor (the movie, not the deity). Loki's there! 24-year-old Ali is spazzing! All is right with the world!

Oh lord, they've actually done him justice?! Amazing! He's complex and nuanced and emotional, just like the real Loki! I loved this movie. Loved. It. The climactic thing with trying to blow up Jotunheim never really made much sense to me until someone made an excellent point the other day about Loki being raised in a racist society that was racist against his own race, he just didn't know it yet, poor child. Baby Thor was never corrected when he pledged to commit mass genocide, so Baby Loki probably absorbed the lesson then that Jotunns=evil and killing them all will win his father's love. Anyway, 2011 Loki was a beautiful, heartbreaking portrayal of the God I've loved all my life and spent 24 years longing to see depicted on the big screen.

Then The Avengers happened. And I saw another Loki very close to Norse mythology - mainly, how he's treated. In the beginning of the movie, he's sick, exhausted, and in pain. He can hardly stand, he stumbles and needs help when he walks. He was very obviously tortured, and the sickly blue light of the scepter's control is in his eyes. That gets less and less pronounced as the movie goes on, showing Loki working his way free of it, but in the beginning, he's a mess. Because he was tortured and used by Thanos. Marvel directly confirmed this, and that he was under the scepter's/Mind Stone's control. Loki's actions are not his own in The Avengers. He's under both threat and Thanos' direct control. The movie actually shows The Other directly threatening him to keep him on task, because this is not Loki's plan. It is not what he wants. He's being used and villainized... Just like in real life. It hurt to see this done to him, but the accuracy was too beautiful to ignore.

Thor: The Dark World comes out. I've heard people complain that this movie is the weak link in the Thor trilogy. I disagree. I think that's Ragnarok, for a bunch of reasons, but we'll get there. (And for the record, I loved Ragnarok, too. It was a funny movie. Infinity War and the Disney+ series are the only portrayals of Loki in the MCU that I truly fucking hated.) Anyway, good, fun movie. Had its faults, as all movies do, but it still followed Loki's real-life arc in a way. How? By having Loki dragged back to Asgard in chains and imprisoned underground. Again, not super happy that this happened to my love, and having to see it on screen was painful, but at least in the MCU he's not chained to a rock with venom dripping on his face for eternity, so there's that. (poor Sigyn. how tired do her arms get, holding up that bowl? best wife ever, amirite?)

In TDW, we're shown Loki's love for Frigga, who favored him and taught him magic as a child. We see his bravado; his attempts to mask his true feelings, especially grief. We see him slowly coming back to himself after the events of The Avengers, and slowly mending his relationship with his brother. He accepts that Odin will likely never love him, but Thor just might, because they were close when they were young. "I didn't do it for him." No, no my sweet, you did it for your brother, and a little out of guilt for what happened to your mother.

At the end, Loki fakes his death and escapes, taking the throne, and I have mixed feelings about this. Not the writer's choices here; I love that completely! A natural progression in Loki's story. But my joy is tainted by how closely they're following the Eddas now. Because Loki's escape from his prison heralds the beginning of Ragnarok. And Loki will die in Ragnarok. I don't want to see that play out in front of my face. I won't be able to handle the grief (spoiler alert! IW broke me. I almost walked out of the theater. Loki's death was legitimately fucking traumatic for me. I don't even care how pathetic that is. That grief was real, it was intense, and I still shake and cry when I think about it.)

Marvel announces that Thor 3 will be called Ragnarok. The internet treats this as a shocking revelation. I roll my eyes and mumble "duh" to myself and move on XD

Then they say Ragnarok will be a buddy comedy. I throw up a little in my mouth and no longer want to live on this planet. If they're going to make something called Ragnarok, could they at least treat it with even a fraction of the respect they've shown these characters thusfar? Jfc. I mean, I'll see it anyway, because I'm a whore for Tom Hiddleston lol. But come on, people!

I hated that they made Hel the long-lost older sister and Fenrir her fucking pet/attack dog. Those are my favorites of Loki's children! Hel is such an incredible badass that the early Christians named their dimension of eternal torture after her! They were terrified of her, to the point of naming the place that terrified them most after her. That's awesome! And Fenrir's just the best. I love wolves. Those two details, and Odin's retcon of "we're not Gods! ...lol, except your sister. she's totally a Goddess. and def gonna kill literally everything, so... good luck! byyyeeeee" pissed me off royally.

The rest was great. I genuinely liked this movie. Still do. And they finally used The Immigrant Song! That was pretty cool. If they'd thrown in Bring the Hammer Down and Thunderstruck, I might've called this movie perfect. XD

I wasn't totally in love with their portrayal of Loki in Ragnarok. Yes, the falling for 30 minutes line was funny, as was "I have to get off this planet" and "YES! That's how it feels!" And "Get Help" was funny as hell. But also, like... There is no way Loki would have been the dumb one in that first encounter with Hela. Also, he can teleport and project copies of himself and shit, so... He would not have been that desperate to go straight back to Asgard and bring her right along with them. Loki's not stupid. But whatever. Movie's gotta movie.

What I did love was seeing the slow mending of his relationship with Thor continuing, and the badass fighting on the bridge. I also loved that, like Real Loki, Movie Loki helped when help was needed, was quick and clever, and while he was carrying out the main plan, he was also planning ahead and grabbing the Tesseract. Yes, that drew Thanos right to them, but that's a whole other thing. Loki never would have left that thing on Asgard to be destroyed or lost.

And now Infinity War. Hooooly fucking shit. You know what? No. I'm not going into this. He was killed, years of character growth were erased forever, my heart fucking shattered. The end.

Endgame. IW hurt me so bad I didn't see Endgame until this year. I actually watched Civil War first (for context: I had actively avoided all Cap movies until this year because I fucking hate Steve Rogers. I find him insufferable. Did not realize what I was denying myself until I watched CW and finally saw the charms of Bucky. When he appeared in IW, I was so lost. XD I was like "...who dis? Murder Jesus?" also I just... didn't care. I was numb by then from crying through most of the movie over Loki)

So, anyway. Endgame. Loki picks up the Tesseract in alternate 2012, escapes, fans go "yay! he didn't actually die!" I go "yes he fucking did. Five years of his life, gone. Five years of growth and change, erased. Loki is dead. This will not be the same."

I was more right than I could have predicted. Now we come to the point of this rant. Sorry it took so long, but you were warned lol.

The Loki series makes me so angry I actually get sick to my stomach. It was fucking TRASH. When I praised Marvel for following Norse mythology so faithfully earlier? Yeah. I DID NOT MEAN TREAT HIM THE WAY THE OTHER GODS DID. I did not mean paint him as a pitiful clown, a joke, a caricature of who he truly was, with his pain and suffering played for LAUGHS.

This is supposed to be 2012 Loki, newly freed from Thanos' control. The Loki we saw in the beginning of TDW - snarky, exhausted, nihilistic. The Loki who rolled his eyes and said "get on with it" expecting to be killed.

The bumbling clown flipping on a dime from posturing to calling himself weak is not 2012 Loki. That is not ANY Loki. That is Tom Hiddleston in a black wig doing what he's told by a shitty writer who had no fucking idea what he was doing and was salty about his (bad) original script (for something totally fucking unrelated) getting killed.

In Episode 1, Loki is mocked, imprisoned, stripped against his will, tormented, belittled, and given a flippant summary of all the trauma Actual MCU Loki suffered that this one skipped out on, with no context, no acknowledgement of the trauma he's already lived quite fucking recently, and with the narrative twisted to not only erase all the abuse he's suffered, but to make it all his fault. And this is supposed to make him want to help these people?

And worse, IT FUCKING WORKS. WHAT?! I CAN'T- FUCKING WHAT?! Remember when I said LOKI IS NOT FUCKING STUPID?! So why is he STUPID?

Episode 2, he's a child. Mentally, this Loki is a fucking child. Now we've erased all the growth and development of his entire adult life. He's dopey, impatient, impulsive, desperate for a pat on the back and actually shows it. Yes, abused and neglected children crave the positive attention we never received, and we often grow up to be a bit emotionally stunted. But not all of us, and not Loki. Not as we've seen him EVER in the rest of the MCU. Playful and a bit callous at times? Absolutely! But not a big dumb fucking puppy.

Episode 3, a ray of hope, despite Sylvie! (I hate Sylvie) Loki casually admits he's pan/bi; labels never come up, but he admits to being with both men and women! He sings! Not really relevant to whether I approve of his portrayal or not lol but Tom has a beautiful voice, Norwegian ("Asgardian" lol) is a gorgeous, entrancing language, and I could watch that one bit on loop for eternity and never get bored. And then, finally, we see a glimpse - a glimpse - of Loki's power! He stops a falling building and pushes it right back up! Are we finally getting to see what he can really do? Will the next episode bring us Loki in all his glory?

Nope. 4 and 5 we see him mocked and pushed around and utterly irrelevant. Again. We see tiny reflections of what he could maybe theoretically do in other random Loki variants, but the "main" (lawl. main. it was the Sylvie and Mobius show. Loki was never the main anything.) Loki? Nothing. He wears his heart on his sleeve for no reason, bonds with the man who imprisoned, taunted, and gaslit him, is killed, and continues to be a moron and a joke. Always the clown. Always the dumb one. The one with the bad ideas. The inferior Loki.

Don't even get me started on that finale. I can't. This already took so much out of me. Fuck Marvel. Fuck this fucking show. I just... I'm done.

[demonkidpliz]

Things I learned while re-watching Star Plus Mahabharata (Part 19/many):

Kansa’s death scene is A+, 10/10. 

Boy Krishna literally looks like Devaki!

I know where else I have seen Boy Krishna! He plays Pradyumna in Radhakrishna!

Arjun, Bhim and Drupad have no chill and I am here for this rage. Let’s keep this going until the war starts.

It is very sad that in Kalyug a woman has to fend for her own honour when ideally it should be a joint effort by men and women.

The only appropriate reaction to a man attempting to dishonour your wife was shown by Krishna and by Ram before him = decapitation. I will not be hearing arguments against this at this time.

We should not be resorting to war. WELL YOU AND YOUR NEPHEWS SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE THAT GAME OF DICE KAKASHRI VIDUR.

I am here for this Panchali. What did you decide? What did Madhav have to say?

Panchali is against the peace proposal and honestly I am on her side.

Panchali is 100% right. The decision to fight or not is Panchali’s. Not the Pandavas. Because for every action and reaction of men, it is the women and their children who suffer. She is 100/100 right.

At least she has Krishna on her side who has absolutely no qualms in pretending anything other than the fact that he really badly wants this war. This is literally what he was put on earth to do.

In the actual story, Duryodhan offers to put Krishna up in Dushasan’s palace which was allegedly bigger and better than the main palace. And Krishna declines because he wishes to stay in Vidur’s palace but StarBharat fails to show why. It’s because Krishna’s aunt, Kunti, lives with Vidur and I think it is the most natural thing in the world that he would want to stay with his aunt rather than with these random cousins by marriage.

I am sorry sweetie (Krishna) there is no dharm ka phool in Angaraj Karna’s heart. He's a social climber.

Aye hai laddoo Gopal really be here turning all this karela into laddoos.

Nice that they gave some screen time to Vidur’s wife. Now they need to do this 200x with all the female characters.

Krishna is…right? Yudhishthir should have been crowned Yuvraj the moment Pandu died and the Pandavas came to Hastinapur. Dhritarashtra was a placeholder king and his son cannot inherit this throne. It is a different matter altogether that Dhritarashtra was the rightful king and that they should have never crowned Pandu as king. 

Krishna coming at the Kauravas with one banger after another. Their behaviour towards Draupadi cannot be forgiven. And not just Duryodhan, every man in that Sabha was culpable.

Is Duryodhan really going to bind Krishna with those big ass fake looking gold chains? This seems like a bad idea.

Krishna is asking for five villages for the five Pandavas. But Duryodhan has nothing if not his principles.

Karna is sooo annoying. Oh my god, we get it. You would give your life for your rich pals.

At least Bhishma, Vidur and Dronacharya are showing some good sense now. Long overdue.

Oho! Even Dhritarashtra has the good sense to agree to this five village business.

Lol, I can’t wait for Duryodhan to try and imprison Krishna.

I’m also waiting for the needle’s head worth of land line. Will StarBharat oblige?

StarBharat has obliged! Duryodhan will not concede a needle’s worth of land.

Krishna looks...mildly discomfited.

Arrest this cowherd LMAAOOO 

The big ass fake looking gold chains are here.

The soldiers can’t even get up, let alone pick up the chains. How underwhelming.

Is StarBharat also going to show me the wondrous scene where Dhritarashtra temporarily gets his vision? Coz that would be cool.

Oh finally someone (Karna) has the sense to say that this is not how one behaves with a peace messenger.

Chal, gwale! I am ded 🤣

What happened to the Vishwaroop scene in the middle of the Hastinapur court??

Very attracted right now to moustached Krishna dressed like a guard.

Calm down, think of Jesus.

Is Krishna also dressed like Vikarna and Karna?

Accha, Drona also.

And Pitamaha.

This is fun! 

Mamashri Shakuni 😂

Kakashri Vidur. I could do this forever.

SRJ looks amazing as all these characters. Even Dhritarashtra.

Where did Krishna transport them? On the banks of the Ganga? Dwarka? 

Did Krishna strike Duryodhan’s thigh?

YAAAAS

Dhritarashtra can see the Vishwaroop! 

Apparently, after this, Krishna gave him the option of retaining his sight. And Dhritarashtra said that after having seen the Vishwaroop to see other sights on earth was simply not worth it. 

Should’ve kept his sight for the war but he has his satellite dish Sanjay.

Okay Krishna has left. This was anticlimactic.

Oh cool, Krishna is going to play the Kunti card.

I simply love Kunti’s character and every scene with Krishna and Kunti in the same frame is simply golden.

Kunti’s entire personality is so on brand with the no chill Yadav mood.

Please do not for one second pretend that you altruistically care about the child you abandoned at birth. You’re doing this to save the skins of the five sons you actually give a damn about.

At least Radha is slightly more realistic about Karna than Kunti is.

Radha and Vrushali are like, how do you know this, Vaasudev? Vaasudev (probably): I drink and I know things.

Nothing will astonish me as much as my progression in life going from a Karna Stan to an absolute Karna Skeptic.

Karna is a social climber. That is all I have to say on this topic.

The only thing admirable about Karna’s character is his loyalty towards Duryodhan.

Also, where is this conversation between Krishna and Karna taking place? On the banks of the Ganga? Yamuna? The sea beach at Dwarka?

Where is the big speech Krishna gives to Karna? Where he promised that Draupadi will marry him (HA, AS IF) and that Yudishthira will crown him King of Hastinapur (that fool might just) if he fights on behalf of the Pandavas.

Are all Radhas this terrible? Are they all hell bent on stealing for themselves things that do not belong to them? Why won’t this awful woman own up to the fact that she’s not Karna’s biological mom?

Okay Karna is back on the banks of this mysterious water body.

I will have you all know that Karna may be suddenly having feels for Kunti, but was totally okay to sacrifice her during the Varnavat episode.

Oh goddamn it, Starbharat! 

Hitting me right in the feels when I least expect it.

Karna thinking back to all the times he was with Arjun, not knowing that they were brothers.

I’m not going to lie. Karna is in an impossible spot. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

Now I am remembering why child me Stanned Karna so much.

I may not like Karna but at least I respect him for supporting Duryodhan.

I can’t wait for Queen of Resting Bitch Face, Kunti, to come and beg for her sons’ lives from Karna, when she literally does not give a damn if Karna lives or dies. Kunti knows which side her bread is buttered. Such a Yadav.

Oh this Karna-Vrushali scene is A+, 10/10. I really wish StarBharat gave more screen time to its women.

Okay I feel bad for Kunti also, mostly because I love Kunti. 

But let us not pretend that given a choice between her Parth and this veritable stranger, she will always always choose Arjun.

She had to do this for Kuntibhoj, her poor father, who loved her so much, who couldn’t have children and all he ever wanted was a child of his own, so much so that he begged Shoorsena to give him one of his daughters.

I think what’s worse is that Kunti knew. Right from the beginning. And she stayed quiet. That was not right. 

StarBharat really be here trying to make me feel for Karna again. Smh.

How tf will Karna be a Pandava? When Kunti wasn’t even mf married to Pandu when she gave birth to Karna?

Karna talking about Duryodhana while the Dharmecha shlok plays in the background. Chills.

I have a story called The tree stump on Karna, in case you are interested. 

Yeah Kunti f*cked up here. I support Karna. He is nothing but a prisoner of birth. 

Pretty big of Karna to ask Kunti not to tell his brothers. Uncharacteristic of a social climber. He’s not a bad soul, I guess. 

I don’t know if it’s Kunti’s dialogue or her acting or the background score but I am tearing up. No assholes here.

Kunti might as well cry because if Karna refuses to call her Mata until Arjun dies, she’s never going to hear it from him. Coz he will be dead.

It’s okay, Kunti, you can relax. You got what you came here for (ish).

[chameli]

I watched Aadmi Khilona Hai (1993) and oh boy, was it a steaming pile of shit. 

Read at your own risk.

This film is about two brothers, Sharad (Govinda) and Madan (Jeetendra). Sharad is an orphan who was raised by his older brother, whom he also kind of worships as a God. Madan is married to Ganga (Reena Roy) and they have a daughter, Guddi. Ganga is also pregnant, which we only know because she randomly ends up in the hospital to give birth.

Sharad meets Poonam (Meenakshi Seshadri) at college by - you guessed it - being a complete creep. She blows him off but they keep running into each other. They eventually fall in love. Poonam is poor and lives with her grandfather and sleazy uncle. Some random guy her uncle hangs around (played by Dalip Tahil) is in lust with Poonam and will stop at nothing to get her. The uncle helps this creepy old dude, but Poonam overhears and runs away.

***MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING*** While Poonam is trying to escape these goons, their jeep runs over two homeless old men sleeping in the street. They are then shown screaming in pain while their blankets are soaked in blood. WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU INCLUDE SOMETHING LIKE THIS? JUST WHY?! I know they were just acting, but that broke my heart and was really traumatizing to watch.

Anyway, Sharad magically happens to be there and saves Poonam in time. Dalip Tahil's character is never seen or mentioned again after this. Okay, literally what was the point of him anyway? Sharad and Poonam are quickly married.

Oh, and Ganga also has this really horrible aunt who always comes over for some reason. Bua (Sulabha Deshpande) is trying to get her daughter married to Sharad, but the daughter ends up falling for Sharad’s friend (played by Laxmikant Berde). However, their romantic subplot literally goes NOWHERE. This couple, for some reason, even have a weird song together. Anyway, Bua likes to talk mad shit about Poonam any chance she gets, despite being constantly told off by the entire family. Like...why are you even here, lady? Gtfo.

Poonam soon finds out that she can never have biological children. She goes on a huge spiel about woman who can't bare children are incomplete, how God made her a defective woman who can't even do the one thing she was made to do, blah blah blah. I was rolling my eyes so hard at this point.

Suddenly, Ganga gets this genius idea to GIVE HER SON AWAY WITHOUT EVEN ASKING HER HUSBAND ABOUT IT FIRST. Because who cares about the father, it’s not like it’s his child too or something. Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK? What kind of mother gives her child away to her sister-in-law, just because the SIL is unable to have her own? A child this woman carried, gave birth to, and is the actual mother of. This isn't even about being selfless, it's a very cruel thing to do to a little baby. Madan comes home and Ganga tells him what she's done. And guess what this mf does? He cries tears of joy and thanks God for blessing him with such an amazing partner. BRO THAT'S YOUR SON, WHAT THE HELL? DO YOU NOT EVEN CARE A BIT ABOUT YOUR CHILD?

I can't even at this point. That's like me telling my sister "Hey, I can't have kids so give me your baby!" I'm sure there are many orphaned kids out there Sharad and Poonam could have adopted, buuuut THEY ALL GO ALONG WITH IT BECAUSE BHABHI IS SO PURE AND SELFLESS. Who cares how much trauma and confusion this kid will have when he's older, right?

Five whole ass years later (aka the very next scene), the kid, Suraj aka Munna, grows up into the whitest looking child I’ve ever seen. Sharad and Poonam are visiting the older couple when Suraj shows off his brand new, expensive video game. Ganga chastises Poonam for wasting money. She then asks Sharad to give her about 10-15,000 rupees so she can replace the temple floor with marble. Sharad casually says it's a waste of money and Ganga is FURIOUS. Literally, she takes this soooo personally. Oh, and to make matters worse, Suraj somehow wins the lottery. This makes Ganga lose her shit even more. 

That's when Bua starts to emotionally manipulate her by turning her against the family. Ganga starts acting like a huge bitch and even takes Suraj (her own son) away from Poonam and Sharad. Madan finds out and he’s angry. He tells her it's over, rips her mangalsutra off, and leaves with the kids. Ganga freaks out and starts destroying everything in sight. She tells Bua to fuck off, then injures herself and faints.

Madan arrives at Sharad-Poonam's house and tells them he's left his wife. Sharad's all, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? If you severed ties with your wife, then you've also broken our bond! Excuse me? Bros over hoes! They all quickly go back to the house where they find Ganga knocked out. After gaining consciousness, she apologizes to everyone and begs for their forgiveness. Of course, they instantly forgive her. Madan also arrives and takes her back, but I didn't bother to listen to whatever crap he had to say. Then everyone is happy again and the film ends.

THIS ENTIRE FAMILY NEEDS INTENSE THERAPY!!!

Govinda always plays the pure, holy, golden-hearted devar (younger brother/brother-in-law) in every single one of these campy family entertainers. I confess, these type of films are my guilty pleasure but sometimes they're too much. He played the same role in Bhabhi, another dumpster fire.

Meenakshi Seshadri is one of my favorite actresses, but she didn't have much to do except cry and look pretty. Reena Roy's bright green contacts were really distracting and Jeetendra was just there.

It didn't make sense how Ganga, who always told Bua to shut up, was suddenly so easily manipulated by her. And this was only about 30 minutes before the ending, so it made NO sense whatsoever. A more powerful actress like Aruna Irani or Bindu would have made this situation more believable.

The editing was terrible. We literally go from a scene where Suraj is a newborn baby to one where he's about a year old. And in that same scene, Madan comes back from a business trip...bro, how long were you gone? Outfits were repeated constantly. Reena Roy woke up and wore the same outfit/makeup/jewelry that she was sleeping in the night before. Some scenes end abruptly and random things happen which aren't mentioned again.

And now for the pros - the soundtrack was really good. I LOVED Bahot Jatate Ho & Mehndi Lagane Ki Raat. Those are such underrated gems.

If you read all of this, you may be entitled to financial compensation 🤭😂🤣

[beautyinthemoonlight1124]

Do you think Ali and Ash will make the Olympic roster? ANd do you think the CONCACAF tournament is structured in a way that will make it hard for us to qualify? I’m a new USWNT fan, I became a fan before the WWC because I found woso fanfics (yours included) so I don’t know a lot about soccer but I’ve somehow become I diehard USWNT and NWSL follower

Hi there.  Welcome to woso!  That’s women’s soccer, just in case you don’t know that yet.  lol.  First of all, thank you for reading the story.  I appreciate it very much.  :)  

Now to your soccer questions… I’ll take the easier of the two first.  I think the CONCACAF tournament is as good as it’s gonna get anytime soon.  CONCACAF is probably just as corrupt as the rest of the FIFA, etc.  But, in general, I think it’s a fair tournament and the USWNT should have no problem qualifying for the Olympics.  But you never know.  I think it was before 2012 Olympics (or maybe 2011 World Cup??) when the USWNT lost to Mexico and almost didn’t qualify!  So you just never know.  But there’s absolutely no reason the team shouldn’t win the CONCACAF tournament.  They’ll certainly at least come in 2nd place and still qualify.

Whether or not Ali and Ashlyn make the Olympic roster is a much more difficult question.  I believe with all my heart that the team is better with them both on it.  They’re excellent players who could both still start (in my opinion anyway), and even more importantly, they’re experienced veterans who know what it’s like to play and win on the biggest stages.  They were also both part of the 2016 Olympic team (Ashlyn was one of the alternates and Ali made her first Olympic squad ever - she missed the 2012 squad because of her knee injury) and I think it’s important to bring many of those players back so they will give it everything they’ve got to erase the embarrassment of their worst finish ever in Rio.  I’m hoping Ashlyn will get an official spot this time around because I believe she deserves it.  I personally think she’s a better keeper than Alyssa but I know most people disagree.  I watched Alyssa when she was with the Boston Breakers and she’s a great keeper, but she’s not nearly vocal or bossy enough back there.  She never has been and I don’t think she ever will be.  It’s just not in her DNA.  Her timidity back there is why a lot of the miscommunications happen along the backline.  It’s Alyssa’s job to tell them all exactly what to do.  Anyway, I digress.  Ashlyn should make the team as the 2nd keeper because she’s the only one with any true leadership skills.  You’ll notice that most of the time Jill Ellis tried some crazy grouping of newbies on the backline over the past 2-3 years she had Ashlyn in goal.  Alyssa almost always gets the best and most experienced defenders on her backlines.  This is certainly not always the case, but it does happen more often than not.  So I think Ashlyn should make the Olympic roster.  It’ll be her first time and I’ll be super stoked for her.

I also think Ali should make the squad.  She’s certainly good enough to play on that backline.  She more than proved that at the World Cup.  All the horseshit US Soccer and Jill Ellis tried to feed everybody about how old and slow Kriegs was over the past 2-½ years was exposed as exactly that - horseshit.  I think Ali is a better outside back than Sonnett and Davidson (and Purce for that matter too).  I think Crystal Dunn did a fabulous job at LB at the WC and I think Casey Short would be a great backup for her.  I think Kelley O’Hara is the starter at RB and nobody is going to change that.  US Soccer markets her like crazy and I just don’t see anybody taking that spot from her.  I still think Ali is a better defender than KO, all day every day.  But I agree that KO is a better offensive player than Ali is.  It depends on what the coach is looking for.  It’s just that simple.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Ali was the first and only defender off the bench in the biggest games in the World Cup.  That says it all right there really.  Why would you not bring her to the Olympics with you too?  Also, on a side note, I think Kelley’s too aggressive and reckless to be a starting defender.  I feel the same way about Sonnett too.  You shouldn’t have to worry about your defenders getting yellow cards.  You want your defenders to be solid back there and tough, no doubt, but you have to be able to rely on them for the full 90.  And if a player has to change the way they’re playing the game to avoid getting a second yellow card and leaving the team down to 10 players, then that’s a problem.  That’s just my take on defense in general.  Ali plays tough, physical, aggressive defense - that’s what attracted me to her in the very first place back in 2011 at that World Cup.  But she rarely commits a foul and hardly ever gets a card.  That’s how I like my defenders.  But that’s just me.  Another good thing for Ali is that she can play Center Back too.  She’s played CB quite often for the Pride in the NWSL over the past couple of years and she does a really good job of it.  A lot of people assume it’s because she was too slow and old to play RB anymore.  But that’s simply not the case.  Tom Sermanni moved her to CB because she was easily the best defender on the team and he wanted her in a more centralized position so she could help more on defense and so she could lead and command more from that centralized position.  She’s also really fast and he wanted her to play there in CB because the other CBs on the team were kind of slow.  Zadorsky isn’t slow though, but she wasn’t there when Sermanni made the move.  We all know how dynamic Ali can be from that RB position and she still sends in some of the best crosses in the game, NWSL or USWNT.  If the Pride ever get a decent backline again, Ali might move back to RB where she truly excels.  

The point is, she can play multiple roles along the backline and that’s a big asset for her when it comes to making the Olympic roster.  Instead of taking 23 players (20 field players and 3 keepers) like we do for the World Cup, we only get to take 18 players to the Olympics.  16 field players and 2 keepers.  Nobody knows what Vlatko’s going to do because he’s too new to get a feel for yet, but making the Olympic roster is one of the hardest things to do for the USWNT players.  Theoretically, you could take the WC roster and eliminate 1 keeper and 4 field players and you’d be all set.  But that alone is a difficult task.  Add to that the players who just missed the cut for the WC, like Casey Short, and the decision gets even harder to make.  Players like Julie Ertz and Crystal Dunn and Ali Krieger who can play multiple positions become very valuable now.  

And for God’s sake, everybody has to be healthy!!  Ellis screwed up big time in 2016 by bringing Megan Rapinoe who wasn’t ready to come back after her torn ACL.  It was ridiculous.  I love Pinoe - I truly do.  But she wasn’t healthy and shouldn’t have taken up a roster spot.  I hope Vlatko doesn’t do the same thing with Alex Morgan after she has her baby.  I love Morgan too, more than most people do, and I think she makes the team better just by being on the field and keeping the defense honest so the other players have room to do their thing and score goals.  I think Morgan is one of the most selfless strikers I’ve ever seen and she gets crap for it all the time.  The stats don’t show it but she changes the game just by being out there and keeping defenders busy and opening up space and setting plays up.  She’ll never get the credit she deserves for that either.  Anyway, I love her ok?  But if she’s not 100% then I don’t want her on the team.  Period.  End of story.  I know Sydney Leroux just came back after giving birth and played in the NWSL 3 months afrer having her daughter, but ask Syd how she did after having her first baby?  Syd was able to do that because she knew what her body needed after pregnancy beause she’d done it already before.  Morgan is an amazing athlete and I’ll be thrilled for her if she can do it, but I also don’t want her to try so hard either.  You just had your first baby.  Relax and enjoy it.  You’ve already got an Olympic gold medal, you know?  Here’s another advantage for Ali Krieger - Kelley O’Hara is injury-prone and can’t stay healthy these days.  That’s a big risk to take with you into the Olympics.  We’re gonna need a really good backup for her.  Ali Krieger.

So this is a whole lot of words to say I don’t know if Ali or Ashlyn will make the Olympic roster.  They both deserve to be there.  I think the team will benefit greatly from having them both there.  But we’re just gonna have to wait and see what Vlatko does.

Here’s what I think I’d like to see for my Olympic roster:

Strikers/Wingers: Rapinoe, Heath, Press,  Lloyd, Pugh

MF: Lavelle, Ertz, Horan, Mewis, Brian

D: Dunn, Sauerbrunn, Dahlkemper, O’Hara, Krieger, Short

GK: Naeher, Harris

cut from WC roster: Franch, Sonnett, Davidson, Long, MacDonald, Morgan (I know this is 6 players, but I put Casey Short into the roster instead of Sonnett)

Morgan Brian has been playing really well lately so I think I’d take her instead of Allie Long right now.  I personally don’t like Pugh very much - I don’t think she’s improved at all since she started playing with the team in 2105/2016.  I honestly would take MacDonald over Pugh but that’ll never happen in a million years.  And I really like Tierna Davidson a lot.  I like her much better at CB and I would seriously consider taking her over Dahlkemper because I’m not a huge Dahlkemper fan to begin wtih.  But, again, that’ll never happen.  Although who knows?  Jill Ellis got rid of Ali Krieger for less reason so who the hell knows?  I like bringing 6 defenders because Crystal Dunn could slide up into MF or Forward if necessary during the Olympics.  She’s the ultimate utility player who can kick ass on any line on the pitch.  Legitimately.  And I don’t like when they move JJ back to CB because she’s so good at that holding midfield spot.  The team plays totally differently when she’s not in midfield (they play worse).  So take 6 defenders.  Keep JJ at MF and move Crystal around if injuries happen and we need another body up top for some reason.

There.  I’m done.  I’ll stop now.  Aren’t you sorry you asked?  lol

[rising-generations]

i know no one asked for them but hey, take some pretty detailed headcanons on my daiya/hiro kiddos (the first two at least) do note that daiya is trans here uvu

- so daiya and hiro got together after daiya and chisa / hiro and chihiro got together, but they were pining for a while. like. a long while. until their respective partners were like "we don't mind sharing go for it bro" - daiya knows hiro adores kids so he's the one who brings up them having some. hiro knows that it was hard for daiya to get pregnant, though, so he says he's not bothered if they end up not being able to have a bio kid, that's fine. in fact he suggests adoption at first, which neither of them are against, however... - the way it ends up, daiya gets pregnant the first time they try somehow and hiro is. incredibly shocked to say the very least. as is daiya but he doesn't show it as much

- as for who they tell first, daiya tells chisa first and hiro tells chihiro, since they are their partners and kinda need to know, and they're both very happy for them. it's real sweet! there's no jealousy or anything cause like, yknow, they're pretty much their kid too

- the first month is pretty uneventful other than daiya finding out relatively early because they were expecting the results. hiro is just. so happy. much crying from hiro. also lots of cuddles and kisses. - second month sees a slightly more like. broody daiya is the best way to describe him. it's not that he's mad at the people around him he's just. broody. he's also mother henning the other kids like crazy. - additionally he's a little snippier than usual and his temper a bit shorter but it's not. horrible. hiro does cry once and it makes daiya feel really bad so he tries not to do it again - third month, there's a lot of hormonal stuff going on and it's a little harder for daiya to adjust than for his other pregnancies for some reason? they figure out why not too far in: surprise, it's twins! daiya is. understandably shocked because what he just had twins with chisa. but not mad bc that makes everything else make sense. - he's also wanting to "eat and hide" a lot for some reason? normally he stays in the living room for dinner with hiro and the others + kids but now he's like "i must take my food and Run". nobody tries to stop him bc hey he has his reasons - month four and he's gaining more weight so now there's a visible baby bump and he gets a little self conscious. but never to fear, hiro is there with kisses! he does try to make sure that daiya's eating a sensible diet bc left unchecked he'd just survive off of like candy and soda and as enticing as that sounds it's not good for a pregnant person - also catch hiro talking to daiya's stomach bc that is a thing hiro would do you can't convince me otherwise don't even try to - also highkey daiya gets more cuddly around this time. he just wants cuddles and snuggles. and is also very clingy. unfortunately for mondo he is often the target of this clingy worry and gets fussed over a lot ("daiya i have two kids of my own would you please leave me alone") - month five and his emotions just. spike. daiya is either very happy or very sad and there's no in-between. like. he'll be having a normal conversation and then drop a spoon or something and now he's bawling. hiro and/or chisa can usually calm him down but sometimes you'll just catch daiya crying for thirty minutes over one of those SPCA commercials - month six and now on top of being emotional he's also really, really moody and broody and nesting horribly. all the pillows and blankets are belong to daiya. hiro buys him one of those pregnancy pillow things and daiya does not let go of it, don't even try to take it from him you will not succeed and also you might lose an arm or two - however despite being moody and whatnot he still wants to cuddle with hiro and receive back rubs because having a previous spinal injury + carrying two children is not an easy thing to do. but thankfully both hiro and chisa are very willing to take care of him - month seven is when daiya starts getting tired of being pregnant, especially with twins because they're very active (apparently they did Not inherit hiro's chill) and no part of him is safe. he's sleeping a lot more to make up for the times at night when he can't because the kids decide it's party time. daiya still fusses over the other kids but it's mainly hiro/chisa + chihiro taking care of them now because he's mainly resting. - by the eighth month he's so done. he loves his kids. he loves his partners. but he does not love this experience and wants it to be over. it's pretty obvious that he's not gonna be happy until the babies are out and in his arms. hiro does his best to keep him calm because he's emotional once more and liable to cry at everything and anything. pretty much everyone's ready for the babies to just be born already.

as for the actual birth, daiya is a whole week past his due date and no one is happy. he's just. mad. and crying. and ready to do just about anything to get these kids out of him because he's miserable and ready to be done. they're a day away from taking him in to be induced when his water breaks in the middle of the night and he's like "okay fucking finally" because as badly as he wanted to get these kids out of him he also was adamant about not having them at a hospital (his and chisa's were born at home with a midwife so that's how he prefers to go).

he is in. so much pain. and it's hard for hiro to be there because with his and chihiro's kids, chihiro had a c-section so it was? not very intense? plus she was high as a mf kite bc of the drugs so there's that, but there's none of that with daiya. he has awful back labor and his contractions are really strong right from the start. but we'll give hiro credit because he does stay the whole time and hold his hand and basically does whatever daiya asks him to, which is mostly just to stay right with him.

it's way more intense than they were expecting because daiya goes from three centimeters dilation to like. eight centimeters in an hour and a half and everyone's just like "how did this happen so fast what the fuck" but unfortunately that just means more pain for daiya (the cervix dilating is literally your actual bones pulling apart so like. dilating that fast is p a i n f u l)

thankfully he only has to push for like thirty minutes before the first one is born and then the second one comes like ten minutes later so. all's well that ends well! they have a girl and a boy, tomoka and mitsuharu oowada. and they're both completely healthy so no complications on that side at least

some assorted things for after: - tomoka is the clingy baby and mitsuharu is more independent, personality-wise, but tomoka gets more independent as she gets older - despite them being hellions as fetuses, as babies they're actually hella chill. so apparently they did actually get hiro's chill - hiro has freckles and he passes them onto his kids - they were both weaned at the same time, around six months, because daiya unfortunately discovered they had teeth when nursing them one morning. you can imagine how that went. mondo thought this was hilarious until several years later he went through the same thing with ayako and daisuke - tomoka did not. absolutely did not. want to wean. not at all. not in the slightest. she was pissed and even after weaning she'd still cry if she wasn't on or near the titty - mitsuharu on the other hand was like "hell yeah i want food give it to me" - hiro adores his babies oh my god. he'd spend every minute with them if he was able and also didn't have to do things

[lalunangel]

Things about me that are similar to you... that i want to erase.

I have a scar on my tummy from baking while i was (mostly) naked in my apartment because my roommate wasn’t going to be home and i had just gotten out the shower.. and it didn’t hurt but it’s right where your scar is from that surgery you had.

My eye look like yours. not the shape but the color. His eyes were so dark they were almost black and yours were so light almost honey but when you got mad they turned black as well. i look at my eyes now that i’m on my meds to see if i can see myself but all i see are your diolated scary eyes staring back. i’ve been so happy lately they stay light.

my hands look like yours. i haven’t worked at a job for 10+ years. actually after a year i normally switch out my jobs because i get so stressed and bothered by the people around me bc they act like fools. so i change it and i stick to my two weeks notice but i could never go back to those jobs. i like the one i’m at rn and i can see myself being here for a long time bc i love kids so much.

my art style is a lot like yours. it used to be blocky because my eyes see everything in basic shapes but everything i do draw now is swirling and messy and the colors blend and greens and yellows dance together and my art looks like yours and i guess that bugs me sometimes but other times it makes me happy bc when you were good you were great and we used to make up stories... and i just.. idk.. i do that now for all the bug like creatures i draw now.

they way my face looks when i sing.. this one was pointed out to me recently because i got turnt to a song 👀 and i haven’t been going off like i used to with music but i did and Cc bee sent me a video of me singing and dancing and i look like you..

the way i dress. I look like you in every aspect even when i try to switch it up.

my eyeliner. i be trying to be all cute and do cateye eyeliner but then i notice i look so much like you that i wipe it off and i’ve started to do this weird droopy eyeliner thing that leaves no wing and i don’t look like you as much.

lipstick. you like bright reds and pinks and i AVOID those colors so much but today i put on a dark lipstick just to fool around and I LOOKED LIKE YOU IN YOUR CHOLA PHASE AND I WAS SHOOK!

Things about me that aren’t similar to you.

My taste in music. Sorry girl i get turnt to everything. And you be like “oh i love all music” but you won’t listen to spanish music or get turnt to songs in french 👀 you also don’t like music from the 50’s up. you don’t really like anything past SPM and Linkin Park up girl. If it ain’t that then you don’t vibe and you’re weird for it.

You draw but you don’t do any other art and you criticize other people for the arts they do bc you don’t give it a time of day to understand it.

you don’t read and you act like you do but you don’t talk about stuff until the movies come out.

Your green thumb is shit. I have one i just have to be consistent with myself and stop pretending i’m too depressed to do things.

that’s another difference. i can mostly motivate myself to do stuff.

you like sweets but don’t bake bc you’re lazy. but we opposite on that because i hate sweets now (rip my sweet tooth you died at 14) and i bake hella just fit experience.

you act like a victim after abandoning your two daughters multiple times and blame me... but even after the counselor told me i had “mommy and daddy issues” i never blamed you.. not until you told me i should’ve died when i was in middle school... and then again with the semi..

you don’t collect anything.. out of pure joy... because you told me that everything in life is pointless and worthless... and the more i grew up... that mindset died... because i see so much worth in everything... that it’s hard to believe i was anything like you..

i’m not going to sit here and knock you down because i hate you... but i want to tell you that thanks to your example and your constant hateful behavior i’ve learned a lot about myself. i made a lot of mistakes this year. i feel bad for all of them. But the major difference between you and i is i didn’t let this life kill my kindness. with every evil action you held towards me and harsh word... i’ve grown softer... and i did a big bad not even a few weeks ago. one you were proud of. but unlike you. i will never in my entire life let it happen again.

So i’m sorry. I’m sorry that you see whatever happened to you as a validation for being so awful to everyone you meet and birth. I’m sorry you feel like such a victim all the time.. but counselors say to find new outlets. and i guess i’ve written a lot of letters to you in that ugly green diary i keep that says “letters to mom” i plan on burning it soon.. so the awful feelings you’ve given me can burn in hell... like everyone says you will when you answer to God... i’m tired of hearing you’ll go to hell... but i’ve never known you to be kind... truly kind... to anyone in your entire life. i’ve never known you to apologize... all i see you as is hard working and mean... but i’m still sorry... i pray often now because i still don’t understand why i’m so hurt by what you did to me and why i’m only hurt now about all of it... but i pray you go to heaven and see your sister and your lost kids.. and i hope dad hugs you.. and i hope you are forgiven for everything you’ve ever done.. and i hope with all that forgiving... i too learn to forgive you. but for now. our relationship is completely over. I have a new mom now. she adopted me and she’s loved me so loudly that i almost forgot she wasn’t my real mom. i hope you can forgive me for replacing you... i can’t stand saying you’re my mom anymore.

also that ugly as fuck name you gave me is canceled. I’m getting rid of the I and one of the M’s. And i’m putting something else entirely for my middle name. My name is the last official tie i have to you. and i’m ready for it to be gone! I hate the mf name.

[clairen45]

Crait and Symbolism: blood, wounds, salt, foxes, the mother and the nest.

The imagery at the end of TLJ is obviously a study in scarlet and white, something so iconic that they even used it for all the official posters for the movie.

Besides the striking visual quality of the color pattern, it does not take much imagination to figure out that these red streaks on a pristine white surface come to represent a bleeding of sorts. I read some critiques that were pointing out that this was visually representing the bleeding of the Rebellion, on the verge of utter extinction, and sending its last fighters and pilots to martyrdom. There is nothing wrong with this reading, it is after all the most obvious. The last rebels standing are indeed laying out their lives for the cause, ready to sacrifice themselves.

But when it comes to blood, you are always dealing with ambivalent meanings, for blood means pain and death but it also means birth, life, and creation. So this bleeding of the Resistance is also truly, as Luke blatantly expresses, the rebirth of the Resistance. Besides the obvious “Luke said it” (the Rebellion is reborn today), two elements emphasize rebirth: the womb imagery that is prominent in the scene AND the vulptex. It is hard to miss the womb imagery: the entrance of the cave, the necessity to go through the inside of the cave before finally emerging into the light, but it is important to note that the ones who show the way out to the handful of rebels are the foxes.

As symbols, foxes usually stand in everyone’s mind for cleverness, but it is not their only function. They are considered as messengers, and more specifically they are psychopomp figures, which means that they are supposed to lead the souls of the dead through their journey to an afterlife or another life. And in TLJ, they conveniently do just that. By following the foxes, the bleeding and desperate Rebellion finds the way out of what was supposed to be their grave onto another life, so literally the tomb becomes a womb: they are reborn. These little foxes are not just there to look pretty (which they do, they are exquisite), they are there to highlight the concept of rebirth. And it doesn’t harm to know that foxes usually embody good parenting. So before anyone starts arguing that I am reading too much into that let’s pause and wonder why they had to be foxes then. Of the million other possibilities they had they went with this particular symbol, coincidence? I think not.

Of course Rey is there at the end of the tunnel, and she actively plays a part in this rebirth by letting the rebels out. She is the midwife and she is the mother, her warm, soft, welcoming face being what the rebels first see coming out.When Finn rushes to her to hug her, he is not just a friend rushing to the friend he has not seen in a while, he is also the child rushing to his mother’s embrace and comfort.

And what does she do next? She packs everyone in the MF, a place that Han Solo called a “home” in TFA, and has visually become a home and nest to the porgs, proving again that there is sometimes more to these little weird creatures that people the screen. Rey, “the girl” from TFA, longing for a family of her own, is playing mum. And it is fitting that it happens right after Leia, the symbolic queen mother of the ST, is seen stepping aside at the end of the movie. She has given up on being a mother when she tells Luke that her son is lost forever, and she is symbolically giving up on her role as leader/mum of the Rebellion by asking the Rebels to stop looking at her for guidance and to follow Poe.

Rey as the new figurative mother is actually carefully crafted throughout the whole movie. TLJ is heavily packed with yonic symbols and symbols of female sexuality which makes Rey’s time on the island an initiation of womanhood and her function as a mother, from letting herself fall into dangerously attractive slippery caves to the very awkward milking scene.

Rey confronts elements of womanhood and female sexuality that she finds repulsive or scary, before embracing it in the end in her new function of symbolic mum. So it is not incidental that this initiation is constantly bringing her forth in contact with Kylo/Ben. Just like she is first scared and grossed out by elements of womanhood, she is first repulsed by him, trying to kill him, verbally insulting him. But she is eventually accepting him, and learning more about him, and obviously accepting her attraction to him, just as she is accepting her inner self and womanhood.

At the end of TLJ, she may be embracing her new role as symbolic mum for the Rebellion, but the last moments show you something is amiss. She seems sad and curiously lonely for someone who has successfully brought all of her fledglings back into the safety of the nest. And what do we get to see? A look she has on Finn being sweet and tender with Rose, and another look on what she preciously cradles between her hands and on her lap: her lightsaber, and not just her lightsaber, but Kylo’s legacy lightsaber, the one from his family, that broke when they were unable to stay together.

So something is missing in her life. She is playing mum to the Resistance but the longing has not been filled. There is between her hands the ghost of what she really wanted. She left one of the fledgling behind, the one that would have allowed her not just to play mum but becoming a mum.

So back to Kylo and the visuals of red and white. It is easy to also read the surface of Crait as a metaphor for his soul. Red is HIS color after all, the color of his saber, the color fitting his bouts of wrath, his moments of violence.

This is a planet with its salty crust, that seems barren, exposed, laid bare, with speeders scarring the surface like so many wounds, just like his face and body have been covered with scars and gashes. If you think about it, it actually echoes the ending of TFA: Kylo’s blood on the snow, the glow of his lightsaber in the snowstorm, the blaring light of the explosion as contrasting with the snowy forest. The imagery was just more subtle and subdued but it was present. One of the girls from Star Wars Connections also highlighted the parallel between the planet and Kylo himself, the sun and the son fused in the same imagery, Snoke exploiting both the power of the sun (Starkiller base) and the son (Kylo Ren) as massive weapons of destruction. The planet’s explosion at the end of TFA echoes Kylo’s meltdown in a way, his splitting “to the bone”. So at the end of TLJ, we have yet another planet that can stand for Kylo himself: the litteral bleeding at the end of TFA has become a symbolic bleeding of massive proportion at the end of TLJ, because he has probably been cut deeper than he was at the end of TFA. This is not a flesh wound, this is his very core. And if you look at Rey flying her way through the tunnels deep inside the cave of Crait to finally emerge in an explosion at the surface of the planet, this is pretty much her working her ways through the arteries of Kylo’s heart and making him bleed when she ran away from him. She has pierced through his heart.

This planet which is visually just a massive open wound is covered with salt, so it emphasizes that the wound is probably hurting like hell. To add to Kylo’s injury, he has to confront his uncle, which is literally rubbing more salt into the wound. @sw-daydreamer did a very nice post on this confrontation and the idea of pain and salt. The moment when Kylo first steps in in front of Luke you can see how raw his pain is, not just through his sarcasms and body language or facial expressions, but visually on the ground with a giant wound on the ground. It looks as if they are standing in a pool of blood. It represents both the state of their strained relations (bad blood between them) and the state of Kylo’s emotions (he’s a mess!). Luke’s function here is not just to figuratively rub his wound with salt but on the contrary to help with the healing process. Salt is supposed to have purifying powers, it is also used to exorcise evil. And if you look carefully later at their confrontation, the massive wound on the ground has disappeared, covered with salt again.

It does not mean this has worked for now, but I think this is a good sign that the healing process has started, that the confrontation may help Kylo eventually.

Can he be reborn then? It is not just the Rebellion being reborn. Luke’s death is a rebirth in itself. When Rey says that he cut himself from the Force before, and she can’t see him, it means that in a way, he was pretty much dead before, the ghost of himself. But when he dies, he not only revives his legend but he also becomes one with the Force. He may be dead in real life but he is reborn again, as it is attested by the last image of him through a yonic opening.

Kylo’s move at the end is to go to the cave, which was the place where his mother was, so in a way he goes back to mother, except that he is not looking for his mother, it is Rey he finds there, through their Force bond. So Rey as healer and symbolic mother and provider for the reborn Rebellion is also what he needs for his own rebirth. Except that this is a tale about becoming an adult and a man (remember he was called “a child in a mask” at the very beginning). So it means not looking for a mother but a mother for his children (again, remember the speech on the seed of the Jedi, gee, Snoke was the best, see how much info he packed in that scene!).

Salt is also interesting that way, because it is often associated with sexuality. Aphrodite, goddess of love, was born out of salty foam. And since Plutarch and Aristotles, salt has always been believed to have something to do with sexual maturity, desire, copulation, and also gestation, something that is backed up by some scientific studies. So, heavy with the sexual imagery, the romantic imagery of the heart being pierced, and the need to look for some replacement for the mother, everything points again to Kylo finding a possible rebirth through his relationship with Rey. In a reverse Anidala touch, the visual of Kylo entering the cave followed by the storm troopers is reminiscent of Anakin entering the Jedi temple in ROTS in his first steps as Lord Vader.

What grandpa does there is emptying the nest, by killing the young Padawans. Kylo, in TLJ, finds an already empty nest, because the mother has already rescued the “children”, something Padme was unable to do. Instead of storming the nest, Kylo shows through his whole attitude his deep longing to be with Rey and become part of the nest. The contrast with their faces after the deed speaks volumes. Not even after killing his own father did Kylo ever get the evil eyes (true he is not a Sith, but still...).

I think this is again a very nice touch in the way the saga unfolds, and possibly precious clues about what might come next in episode ix.

To conclude, and with special thanks to @xxmasterandmargaritaxx who quoted this excerpt from Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson to me (so grateful!)

Imagine a Carthage sown with salt, and all the sowers gone, and the seeds lain however long in the earth, till there rose finally in vegetable profusion leaves and trees of rime and brine. What flowering would there be in such a garden? Light would force each salt calyx to open in prisms, and to fruit heavily with bright globes of water–-peaches and grapes are little more than that, and where the world was salt there would be greater need of slaking. For need can blossom into all the compensations it requires. To crave and to have are as like as a thing and its shadow. For when does a berry break upon the tongue as sweetly as when one longs to taste it, and when is the taste refracted into so many hues and savors of ripeness and earth, and when do our senses know any thing so utterly as when we lack it? And here again is a foreshadowing–-the world will be made whole. For to wish for a hand on one’s hair is all but to feel it. So whatever we may lose, the very craving gives it back to us again

[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.

[panicked-sapphic]

DANIS DETAILED FAMILY PROFILES BECAUSE I AM ONE BORED MF:

Evita Valentina González De Niro

45

FACECLAIM: Justina Machado from One Day At A Time, only with tanner skin(bc they’re an outdoorsy family and the entire clan is super tan) and some freckles.

FROM: Was born in Puerto Rico, moved to Mexico City as a toddler. Currently resides just outside of Phoenix, Arizona.

JOB(S): I think i said something about her mom owning a restaurant but I’m changing it. Evita is currently a doctor practicing emergency medicine(she she basically works in the emergency room aye). She worked her ass off to get through medical school in America so!!! I love Mama De Niro. Goes by Dr. González tho.

PERSONALITY: She’s really warm and gentle. But she’s tough as hell. She worked three jobs to put herself through medical school, and because shes a woman and an immigrant, nobody took her seriously so she worked even harder to be the top of her class. She’s really compassionate and very fierce about things being right and fair. She also has very strong morals. She’s incredibly honest and isn’t a fan of lying and therefore she sucks at it(like mother like daughter). She’s always had school be a #1 priority which she drilled into Dani since she was a little girl. When she gets an idea into her head she doesn’t drop it, which can be negative LMAO. Very proud of her culture and heritage and raised Dani with the same idea. Takes certain traditions very seriously(Day of the Dead, etc)

FAMILY: Camila González(Mother - 76 - alive), Miguel González (father - 66 - deceased), Matias González(brother - 47 - alive), Santiago(39 - brother - alive), Isabella&Martina(sisters - 37 - alive), Katalina(youngest sister - 16 - deceased, Danica is lowkey named after her, as her middle name is Katelynn)

SOME INFO ABOUT HER BACKGROUND: When her father died, Evitas mother, Camila, moved to the US to live with her oldest daughter, her husband, and grandchild, who was 6 at the time. She’s always been close to her mother and is glad that it carried down to Dani. They strongly live by the ‘Family is Everything’ rule, and she is in regular contact with her brothers and sisters who live in Mexico City, and usually visits during holidays, or they come and visit her. She’s been married to her husband, Gabriele, for 19 years. They waited until she became an attending to get married and have children. Evita worked herself to the bone making sure she could do her job and spend time with Danica, because she didn’t want to be an absent mother. All in all, Evita is one hell of a badass and I love her with my entire soul. After having Dani(her birth was rlly traumatic and difficult), she found out she couldn’t have any more kids.

Some short profiles for her brothers and sisters aye

Matias Gonzalez - 47, alive, married to Ramonda, father to Benedictio, Rosalyn, and Camila(20, 18, and 14). He owns a restaurant, and lives in Tepoztlan, which is like an hour or so away from Mexico City. His wife is a stay at home mom but also kind of makes cakes on the side?? For parties and stuff, shes pretty good.

Santiago Gonzalez - 39, alive. Travels the world as a famous photographer. Has a few places in various cities all over(he’s pretty wealthy). Kind of like the cool rich uncles who give you cool gifts and spills ALL the family drama when you’re old enough. Pretty rad. Super gay honestly.

Isabella Garcia - 37, alive, married to Elian Garcia, mother to Aloise and Alford(both 11) and Valentina(6) and Luz(3). She plans weddings(is known for her work too) and her husband is a professor. Lives in her childhood home, which is where the family gathers for holidays.

Martina Aguado - 37, married to Felipe Aguado, mother to Sophia(15), Dario(8), and Diego(2). She’s a teacher, and her husband is a lawyer. She lives not far from her identical twin sister.

Katalina Gonzalez - 16 - deceased. Katalina died in a car accident while out with friends. She was the youngest of the family, and her loss changed everyone. She was closest with Evita, which was why Danis middle name is Katelynn. It’s a nod to her little sister, who is a lot like Dani, and like Dani, wanted to be a journalist.

AND NOW FOR GABRIELE I’M READY FOR MY TEDDY BEAR ITALIAN MAN LMAO

Gabriele ‘Gabe’ Lorenzo De Niro

47

FACECLAIM: Stefano Accorsi bc he was the closest thing I saw in my head for Dani’s dad, and this guy has blue eyes instead of brown, which is where dani gets her blue eyes.

PERSONALITY: Kind of comes off as super tough and intense but he’s literally a  big softy who cried when Dani left for college. Loves his wife so much omg,, like its disgustingly cute how in love they are. He’s so proud of his strong wife honestly HAHA,, tries a little too hard to be a cool dad. Real dweeb. He’s really honest like his wife, and like Evita, strongly lives by the rules of ‘School First’ and ‘Family is Everything’, mostly because he grew up in a pretty broken home(his father was an abusive alcoholic) and he never had that family structure until he was older.

JOB(S): He’s going to be a PEDS doctor? I’d like for Evita and Gabriele to have met in med school or something and were friends/dating for years before getting married when she graduated(he was a year or so ahead of her schooling wise). Helps out his brothers restaurant on the side when he has the time/they need help.

PERSONALITY: While he was born and lived in Italy until he was 14, he doesn’t have strong ties to the language or culture, so he mainly kind of adopted the one his wife introduced him to, as it was important to her that Dani grew up surrounded by the same culture she was raised in. Still knows Italian, but doesn’t speak it very often anymore? He’s really caring. Kind of adopts every kid he meets kind of thing. He’s really good with people and kids, which is a big reason why he went into PEDS. I love this man with my entire heart, he’s so wholesome and pure. Goes by his mothers maiden name bc he hates his dad.

FAMILY: Enric Betto (father - 74 - alive?), Giulia De Niro(67- mother - alive, i originally was going to have her deceased but i love her sm, my strong grandmom deserves MORE than that), Enzio De Niro(40 - brother- alive), Fabian De Niro(37 - brother- alive)

BACKGROUND INFO: Was born and raised in Naples, Italy. He grew up fairly poor, with his father draining the money with his drinking and gambling habit. He was abusive, and after nearly killing his youngest brother, his mom left him, and a year later, at 14, his mom moved him and his brothers to Arizona to live with some family friends. They stayed there, and he worked hard in school to get a scholarship for medical school. I’m thinking him and his wife both attended Colombia or Johns Hopkins or something?? Both on scholarship. Another ‘school comes first’ enforcer haha!!

Those family profiles bc i love my homies!!

Giulia De Niro - 67 - lives just a few miles away from her son and daughter in law and granddaughter, is a frequent visitor. Like, every day lmao. I’m thinking she works at a bakery/co-owns one with the same family friends that took them in when they moved to America? Always making something yummy, anyways.

Enric Betto - 74 - alive, lives in Italy ALTHOUGH if I want some side drama for Dani i’ll have him come in later to fuck things UP. He’s a dick honestly lmao

Enzio De Niro - brother, 40, alive - married to Kelly Prescott. Father to Amelia(13), Brandon(9), and Olivia(6). He’s an electrician, and his wife works as a 911 operator

Fabian De Niro - brother, 37, alive - engaged to Brady Pullman. They have 3 dogs, all pitbull mixes(Buttons, Charlie, and Dobby). Fabian is a contractor(he builds and designs houses and buildings?? I think thats what its called lmao) and Brady owns a cafe in Phoenix!! They eventually marry and adopt some kids

Yeah i put WAY too much thought and effort into this LMAO i’m,, so lame,,,