#mitch rapp x reader insert

[harringtonstilinski]

Okay so can I ask for a hc or an imagine (whatever u like) of what texting Mitch Rapp as his gf would be like. Cuz I feel like he's gonna be a dry texter but then again he's gonna send a few memes and reaction pics here and there

did something totally different with this one!

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Texting Mitch

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Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

[roseringleader13]

Only Fools Rush In - Mitch Rapp - Chapter 1

Author: Roseringleader13 Pairing: Mitch Rapp x Reader Word count: 1650 Warnings: None Summary: After losing her mother and brother in a random shooting 17 years ago, the reader has fallen into a basic routine. Get up, go to work, sneak away to ruin her uncles business as revenge for killing her brother and mother to tie up loose ends, go back to work, go home, and sleep while being haunted by the memory of seeing her family die. Her uncle doesn’t know that she’s been sabotaging his work, nor does the man who was hired to take her uncle out, Mitch Rapp. After meeting him, unaware that he is going to be using her to get close to her uncle, will she eventual tell him the truth and try to hold onto a love she wasn’t expecting, or will she take him out for getting in the way of a revenge she’s spent the last 6 years planning and conducting? A/N: So this is the first time in a while that I have decided to try and write a series again and this is set after the events of American Assassin. I have @golddaggers to thank for reading over the first chapter for me and convincing me that I needed to post it rather than have it collect figurative dust inside my laptop. I would really appreciate feed back you guys so please let me know what you think!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wise men say Only fools rush in But I can’t help falling in love with you Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can’t help falling in love with you

Those were the lyrics that you would hear in every dream. The soft hum of your mother’s voice as her thin and delicate fingers would strum the strings of her guitar, the antique instrument passed down from woman to woman in your family. You could still remember the way her beautiful and wavy auburn hair would flow gently in the soft Autumn breeze as those luscious locks would sometimes blend in with the leaves behind her as you would look up at your mother from your young height as she sat on the bench. Her eyes would match the sky above you, seeming so bright and so happy as she sang to you, her youngest daughter and your brother, her eldest son. More often than not, you and your mother would be wearing identical dresses that would flow around your knees while covering the length of your arms. It was a soft green today, much like the rare moss that would grow on the sides of trees just as the sun would shine down on the plant with early morning rays.

Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes Some things are meant to be

The dream was always a bittersweet moment. For a time, your sleep would be peaceful and soft as it played inside your mind’s eye. Your y/h/c would always be tied up in an adorable set of pigtail braids, y/e/c would be staring at your mother in complete wonder as she sang, tiny hands playing with the edge of your skirt as you listened on baited breath for each word and note to come from her. Your brother would always be in a white dress shirt and be wearing a pair of faded but loved blue jeans, loafers covering his young 13 year old feet compared to the soft ballet shoes on your 7 year old feet. It was always so peaceful and perfect.

Take my hand Take my whole life too For I can’t help falling in love with you Until the gunshots rang out. Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes Some things are meant to be

Then everything was chaos. Your brother was screaming at you to run while blood dripped from the corner of his now stained lips. Each time, your mother's body would be slumped backwards, blood slowly running down the front of her face from that small hole in her forehead, guitar limp in her arms while the back of her head was blown out. If you didn’t see the back of her, nor the blood and small bullet hole, you could have sworn your mother was simply asleep.

Take my hand Take my whole life, too For I can’t help falling in love with you For I can’t help falling in love with you

It all happened so fast, the screaming from both yourself and passing patrons in the park along with more gunshots ringing out among the once peaceful little forest area. You honestly couldn’t remember how you survived nor could you remember anything after it. One moment you were listening to your mother sing, then your brother screamed for you to run, then you were sitting on that old and bent leather couch that belonged to your Uncle Michael, the child services handing over the adoption paperwork. Right as your uncle would crouch down and lay a hand on your small shoulder, whispering softly that everything would be alright, you would wake up.

Cold sweat would be drenching your y/s/c pale form as you forced yourself up from the bed, head throbbing in pain as your hands tried to find some kind of purchase on the bedside table so you could stand up. Those dreams always exhausted you each morning despite it having been 17 years since the day your mother and brother were murdered in cold blood on that gentle Autumn afternoon.

Stumbling towards the bathroom in your small one bedroom apartment, a loud meowing sound came from the little black ball of fluff you had named Mystic, clearly thinking it was time for breakfast despite you always taking a shower first. You knew you needed that shower more than normal since the moment you saw the dark bags under your eyes that would need lots of makeup to hide, and the way that there were scratches all over your arms from fighting yourself in your sleep. So Mystic would have to wait just a bit longer. That cat never did respect your schedule, which was always the same.

Wake up in a cold sweat. Shower. Eat breakfast and feed the cat while in a towel. Go get dressed. Grab your purse and keys. Lock up your apartment. Head down to the flower shop next to your apartment building and help water the flowers since Ms. Dunbar couldn’t move around as well as she used to. Accept the homemade cookie from her after you were done. Go to the bookshop right around the corner. Slip on your badge showing your employment there. Stock the shelves. Disappear and tell your boss you got distract reading in the back for a good 4 hours. Sit at the front desk since he would finish the stocking. Sit there for an hour. Wish him a good evening as you headed home. Tell Ms. Dunbar to have a good dinner as you pass by her. Go into your apartment and eat dinner. Slip into pajamas. Do research on your laptop until 1 in the morning. Finally go to sleep.

However, you didn’t expect your schedule to be thrown for a complete loop later that day while at work.

It was when a low and gruff, but somehow comforting voice, caused you to look up from the book you had hidden under the counter. Y/h/c swished around your shoulders at the sudden movement, having cut it into a short style about 10 years back, y/e/c meeting a soft honey- no whiskey colored iris. Dark brown hair was brushed into a typical style of spiky but soft on top of his head while moles were just barely hidden beneath the thin layer of scruff that danced along his jaws structure that would could probably cut glass. The more you looked at him, you took note of the small scar on the tip of his nose near his right nostril as well as the dark t-shirt that hugged each set of muscles this man clearly had. Especially based on how his biceps seemed to fight the edge of the material and his chest was just the right amount of bulked in your opinion.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t hear you.” You admitted bashfully, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you stood up straight and apologized once more for the inconvenience.

“It’s alright. Clearly whatever you’re reading under the counter must be good if it distracted you that much. I asked if you had the sequel to this book somewhere in this shop. I haven’t been able to find it anywhere else yet.” He repeated, giving a lopsided smirk on those pink lips as he held the book out to you once more, your eyes taking note of how large and veiny them seemed before taking the literature from him.

“I’ve been a fan of the classics since I was a child. I was rereading Beowulf.” You admitted, looking over the title of the book he handed you, typing it into the computer to see if you did actually have a copy of the sequel. If not, you could always offer to lend him your personal copy…might give you a reason to see this man again.

“Any luck?” He asked after a long pause of silence between the two of you, having leaned against the counter as you were searching, unaware of how his eyes seemed to skim over your figure almost appreciatively.

“No we don’t have a copy. But…if you like, I could lend you my own personal copy of it. Give me a reason to see you again since not many men who catch my interest come in here.” You said confidently, giving him a playful smile as you handed his book back to him, trying to hide the pink that threatened to appear on your cheeks when his fingers brushed against your own and that smirk turned into a grin on his face.

“Well I wouldn’t want to disappoint a cute girl by never coming back now would I?” He asked, tucking the book under his arm as he leaned against the counter once more.

“If you come by tomorrow, I can give you the copy and you could easily return it when you’re done. I work here every week day.” The words just tumbled from your lips smoothly, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned towards him yourself, enjoying the light but completely obvious flirting that was going on between the two of you.

“Consider it done…” He trailed off, raising an eyebrow as he waited for your name.

“Y/F/N.” You replied, giving him your first name as you held your hand out for him to shake. “And you are?”

“Mitch.” He replied, reaching forward and shaking your hand, the firm grip making goosebumps cover your skin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/f/n.” He added, winking before turning and walking out of the shop, not hearing the soft sigh that left your lips as you enjoyed the sight of him walking away.

Maybe having things disrupt your normal pattern wasn’t always bad…you might feed Mystic first before taking a shower in the morning.

[totallynotashieldagent]

Safe House

Masterlist 

You hated it. Hated every single about this. He was throwing things around and you were standing in the corner. He was screaming at someone on a burner phone.

"No fucking shit!" He told them "I'm counter-terrorism. Not a fucking babysitter!" He paused, "What the hell am I supposed to do?!" Again, he waited, "What? Hell- Hello?" He stared at the phone and threw it against the wall, breaking it into pieces, "Fuck!"

"I'm sorry-" You were shaking with fear

Not just of the situation but of him too. He seemed to have picked up on it quickly.

"Fuck-" He groaned and began to put things back in order, "It's not your fault, okay?" He forced himself to say it, "I'm not- I'm not pissed at you,"

You didn't move. You pushed up against the wall and slid down. Wanting to make yourself smaller. Hiding yourself from him.

72 hours ago, you couldn't have imagined that this could've been your life. 72 hours ago, Mitch had been Thomas and he'd been your boyfriend of three weeks. Now everything was a mess. You knew your father must be worried sick but you couldn't call him. 

You didn't know how long you stayed in the same position. Maybe you dozed off. It was hard to tell. Reality seemed to only come back to your limbs in a painful way when Thomas- No, Mitch. His name was Mitch now. When he told you to get cleaned up.

You tried to stand but your legs couldn't straighten up. It was like you were stuck

[statticscribbles]

Kidnap

Summary: Mitch Rapp/Reader Reader is Kidnapped and Mitch find a way to get her back

”Y/N? You awake?” You open your eyes to see Mitch hovering over you, you sit up a little but before you can there’s just red clouding your vision.

“What’s this?”

“Roses, it’s our three year anniversary so I wanted to do something special for you!”

“Mitch, that’s not for three more days!”

“Exactly, so I’m going to spoil you silly for the next three days!”

“It’s only three years, that’s not as big as the first year or the fifth one!” You try to counter but he just grins at you.

You stomach flips, you know this isn’t part of Mitch’s anniversary plan and you wonder just what’s going to happen. The fabric around your face is scratchy and you wonder if it’ll leave red marks on your face when they take it off. You don’t think about it never coming off, about Mitch never finding you.

They’re talking, voices low and unintelligible but you’re certain that’s because they’re in a different room, not because they’ve actually hurt you. The group, you assume it’s more than two people with how many different voices you can hear; are surprisingly gentle with you, you wonder if someone has explained who you are or if they just needed another hostage.

“She hangs out with him; they’re at least friends.” Your stomach sinks lower, you realize they’re trying to bait Mitch but they clearly haven’t done their research or they would have taken one of his actual friends; not his girlfriend.

Time always passes differently when it’s dark and being blindfolded is no exception. It doesn’t feel like days, maybe just a few hours before Mitch is pulling off the blind fold his hands shaking as you try to smile at him.

“I’m okay.” You assure and he narrows his eyes before practically picking you up and carrying you over to the ambulance; he rides with you the entire time, refusing to let go of your hand until one of the other agents physically pulls him away from you so the nurses can check you over.

“It wasn’t even a full day Mitch, she’s fine, they didn’t get the chance to do anything. Just go home and spend time with her.”

“Y/N you okay babe?” You’re pretty sure Mitch has asked that same question for the past hour every three minutes.

“I’m alright, better that you’re here.” You press your face into his shoulder and he keeps his arms tight around you.

“Sorry for ruining whatever your anniversary plans were.” You mumble and he frowns a little, nudging your face so you look him in the eyes.

“All I want is to spend time with you, no matter what we get to do, I just want to spend it with you.”

You're still nervous about leaving the house. Mitch had insisted he would take care of everything for your three year anniversary, you hadn’t ever thought you’d be scared of leaving the house but here you were nervous that Mitch was going to drag you to some fancy restaurant.

“Okay just close your eyes.” He grins a little as you close them and places a kiss on your forehead.

”Okay spin three times.”

“Will I wake up in Oz?” You laugh and can feel him smiling into your hair.

“Somewhere better.”

“Anywhere with you is better.” You grin a little when he walks forward guiding you, one hand wrapped around your waist.

“Okay open.” You’re already smiling, but you hide your head a little when you realize just what Mitch has done, he’s set up a recreation of the anniversary date he always takes you on. Normally you’d be going out to the restaurant where you first met and ordering the same meal you’d first gotten.

“Listen Y/N; this might not be the place I expected to be on our three year anniversary, but it’s with you, so that’s really all that matters.”

“Me getting taken must’ve shook you up, huh.” You try not to let your voice shake and Mitch just nods.

“Yeah it did, really freaked me out.” He sighs pulling you back into his chest and pressing his forehead against yours.

Support My Writing?

[goddesswritings]

Masterlists

Dylan O’Brien

Corpse Husband

Colby Brock

Stardew Valley Sebastian

My Chemical Romance

[fossntwriter]

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Harry Potter

Should’ve seen that coming (Cedric Diggory x reader)

Hunger Games

Jabberjays (Finnick x reader)

Timing (Finnick x reader)

Teen Wolf

The Best Prize (Stiles x reader)

The Maze Runner

More than Life Itself (Newt x reader)

Chicago Shows

You’re Safe (Jay Halstead x reader)

DC

it’s early (Jason todd x reader)

Marvel

Home (Avengers x reader)

Is that mine? (Bucky x reader)

Blood isn’t your Color (Bucky x reader)

I’ll Save You From Anything (Steve x reader)

Play Pretend (Steve x reader)

Don’t Look Down (Peter Parker x reader)

Don’t Waste it (Based on Black Widow post credit scene)

American Assassin

“Yeah, I know.” (Mitch Rapp x reader)

Harry Styles

Fakers, Liars, Lovers (Harry Styles x reader)

[dancingwithdylan21]

Beyond Delicious

Summary: In her drunken state, the reader thinks that Dylan isn’t a real cop and hits on him.

Pairing: Cop!Dylan x Reader

Prompt: “What’s your name, inmate?”

~

Sauntering down Tremont Street in downtown Boston, your only focus is the click clacking of your high heels hitting the pavement. You’re barely aware of the lingering eyes as they fixate on your sexy inmate costume.

The hardcore pregaming at your best friend’s place majorly attributes to your aloofness. It’s also the reason why you’re venturing out late to acquire more booze on Halloween night.

Gallivanting around by yourself is admittedly not the best idea, especially with the alcohol coursing through your bloodstream. Meh. If it comes down to it, you can always resort to stabbing someone with your pretty five inch heels.

Once you enter the liquor store, you’re immediately drawn to a tall man who’s looking beyond delicious in a cop costume. He’s perusing the snack section, completely oblivious about the effect he has on you already.

The liquid courage in your system lets you stroll over to him without a second thought, “Well hello there.” Your eyes flick down to his shiny gold name tag. “Officer O’Brien.”

“Wow.” He breathes out as his brown eyes drink you in. “Hello yourself.”

“Nice costume. It looks very authentic.” You lean in closer to him. “Your handcuffs definitely look more fun than mine.”

“Well everything is real so…” Dylan trails off, expecting your flirty demeanor towards him to falter out. Although it doesn’t, his answer makes you seductively bite your bottom lip instead.

“Even better.” You wink causing his heart to speed up.

“What’s your name, inmate?” He gruffly demands, even though there’s no hint of threat behind it.

“Y/N.” You answer cheerfully and it makes him chuckle. “You?”

“Dylan.” He gestures at the orange fabric clinging to your body. “So you got pinched huh? What for?”

“Indecent exposure.” You innocently reveal through your long fake lashes.

“Shit.” Dylan whispers as he purposely breaks eye contact with you. He starts begging his overstimulated mind to get its shit together. He’s still on the job after all.

“How did you get here, miss? I hope you didn’t drive.” He inquires because of the obvious state that you’re in.

“I walked. My friend’s apartment is just down the street.”

“By yourself?”

“Yes, sir.” You roll your eyes. “She was taking too long to get ready so I just left without her.”

“Ah. I’m guessing you guys are having a Halloween party?” He smirks at you.

“Going to one actually. Wanna come? It’ll be a good time.” You inch closer to him, now able to breathe in his intoxicating smell.

“I…well…” Dylan clears his throat. “I don’t get off until midnight.”

“I bet we can make it happen much sooner than that, officer.” You giggle softly, enjoying the impact that your words are having on him.

“Fuck, woman. You’re killing me.” Dylan’s eyes automatically widen, he truly can’t believe what just fell out of his mouth.

“Well we can’t have that.” You tease him, now continuing on towards the vodka aisle.

Dylan watches in amazement, hypnotized by the swing in your hips and the curves of your ass. Luckily he snaps out of his trance, just in time to see that you’re now paying at the register. Not wanting to say goodbye just yet, he races in the direction of the exit and then anxiously waits outside for you.

You soon emerge from the liquor store with two bottles of Absolut Vodka and you’re met with a charming smile. Cocking your head, you silently wonder why the handsome police officer is still standing there.

“I should probably walk back with you, Y/N. Better safe than sorry.”

“You don’t ha…”

“I insist.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Well then let’s go, O’Brien.”

You and Dylan both move slow, deliberately wanting to make this time together last. The fresh cool air has cleared your head a bit, you’re by no means sober but at least you’re functioning better. The walk is filled with jokes and laughter, there’s definitely a chemistry here beyond physical attraction.

Dylan tries to hide his disappoint when it’s time for you both to part ways. You weren’t kidding about your friend living close by and now he doesn’t want to leave. Drunk or not, you both really hit it off and he wants nothing more than to learn everything he can about you.

“So the party’s actually inside.” You mention casually, glancing up at your friend’s building. “Another friend who lives here is throwing it.”

“I can swing by after work.” Dylan rushes out adorably. “I mean…if that’s cool.”

“Definitely.” Your entire face lights up making his do the same, everything about you is just infectious.

You willingly hand over your phone number and he promises to call when he can, surprisingly you both act a little shy during the interaction. After a sweet peck on his warm cheek, you then climb the apartment steps and unlock the front door.

“See you soon, officer.” You grin slyly before slipping inside, then break out into a happy dance once you’re out of sight.

“Yes you will, inmate.” Dylan chuckles to himself.

~

Masterlist 

[thelibrarianintraining]

Masterlist

* indicates smut

Mitch Rapp

The Division * - Series

Welcome Home - Dad! Mitch

Guilty By Association * Part two is on the way!!

Stiles Stilinski

Messy - College AU

Part I | Part II | Part III

Miracle - FBI! Stiles

Say Love *

Baseball & Alcohol

Dave Hodgman

Milk & Coffee

Stuart Twombly

No Matter Where You Are

The Maze Runner Rewrite

Series Masterlist

Theo Raeken

I’ll Protect You 

The Man I Was

Part One | Part Two |

Teen Wolf

Burn - features Scott and Stiles

Alice In Borderland

House of Cards - Suguru Niragi Series

[bxcketbarnes]

American Assassin

It Wasn’t A Mistake *Smut* You’re Mine, Got It? *Smut* Keep Your Eyes On Me Let’s Talk This Out Switching Sides *Smut* Undercover *Smut*

[pattispunk]

The Eagle

A/N: Howdy there y’all. My name is Grace and I am your admin here! So I am a super busy gal and I don’t get to write as much as I want to. But this is an idea that I have had for a while and I really want to try my hand at it. So here you go, please keep in mind that I am an amateur writer, I probably won’t post a lot and this is my first fic I have ever published other than one on wattpad which in all honestly will probably move here. So please bear with me, give me some tips and help and love. ;) And let me know what you think.

Summary: Basically this will be a Mitch Rapp x deaf!reader fic. Similar to Rapp’s motivation except you know different. I don’t think I will have them fall in love. Maybe a small fling and then they realize its best for neither of them. Idk man, I’ve never been in a relationship, I don't know how reciprocated feelings work, so this will be a journey. And this has already been too long of an intro, so story starts now!

Images flash through my head as I punch the bag with my fist. My sister’s face, another punch. My mom and dad, two more swift punches follow though. I leap through the air, finishing with a roundhouse kick as I let out a grunt of anger. My face sweating, my hair falling out of place, I let out a silent scream for no one to hear. I stare at the punching bag, hating everything that had happened to you, hating him. I back up twenty feet from my red Velcro-d nemesis, eyes on the bag, I run.

 …

 “Who is she?” Rapp breathed out with a monotone whisper.

“She’s no one you need to concern yourself with.”

I looked over to her, as she sprinted towards the punching bag. The next thing that I see, is the weirdest thing I had ever seen. She leaped onto the bag, swinging it around with the chains above her rattling and tackling the nearest punching dummy, knocking it to the ground. She stood up, and started to walk away, un-taping her hands as she walked.

“Holy crap.”

“Yeah, and here’s the kicker. She can’t hear a thing.”

 …

It was supposed to be a simple vacation. A simple family vacation to the beautiful shore of Jordan. My mom and dad were supposed to be sun-bathing together, my baby sister was supposed to be playing in the sand, making sand castles. But no, I had insisted we stayed inside, I insisted that we can go down to the beach tomorrow, what I would give to have gone down to the beach that day.

They were sitting in our hotel room, on the floor below the top. They were playing board games, laughing, enjoying their vacation. All the while I was rushing downstairs to get food and to avoid the annoyance of family game night. I was about to reach the main floor when it happened. What I could only describe as a firework on a scale of much greater magnitude, but that was only the sound, the physical feeling of the accident was so much more. The heat was unbearable, I was thrown back, an indescribable pain erupted in my gut and every sound was replaced by a ringing. A ringing that would eventually drown out all other sounds, then cease to exist. Consciousness eluded me, and when I came to, my life was much different than it was supposed to be.

…

I was told it had been several hours before I gained any measurement of consciousness. And when I did, I found myself in a hospital, miles away from the hotel you were staying at. Only to find out what you never wanted to hear. Your mom, your dad, your sister; they were gone, torn down at the hands of terrorists, of cowards.

They made you feel hopeless, weak, mortal, they took your family, the ones who defined you and left you at the mercy of God. They made me feel something I never wanted to feel again. And thus begins my journey, my only goal from here on out. Vengeance.

 …

 You walks down the corridor of the military base, carefully avoiding the new cadets running in cadence down the hall. She could only wonder what the color guard was screaming at the new recruits, probably something stupid, maybe not. You keep walking until you are stopped in the hallway, a hand grabs your shoulder. Very quickly, you hip-checked the figure behind, grabbed the arm closest to you and flipped the body over your head. Quickly, dropping to one knee pressed to the offender’s throat only to find a guy in civilian clothes, mouthing something that could have looked like “stop stop please stop”, but you didn’t really care. Or maybe you just couldn’t pay attention.

As a deaf agent, you have always stared at lips, just to read them of course. But this man, this man was different. Maybe it was his lips, his eyes, his demeanor, hell maybe it was his ignorance. But something stood out. Now, people know not to sneak up on you, ever since you did the same moves on one of the officers of the base. Word spread quickly and no one ever approached you from behind since, you decided to give this guy a pass and just keep walking. (And no, it wasn’t because you liked the way he looked) So with that, you dust off your hands and continue walking in the same direction you previously were, unable to get the strange mans lips out of your head.

 SO THANKS FOR READING YOU MADE IT TO THE END. No but seriously, thanks for bearing that torturous fic, and let me know... if anyone ever sees this.

[harringtonstilinski]

requests; open (s.h. & e.m.) / new guidelines

so, i literally just got done with writing always the babysitter. it's bittersweet that my second series is done being written.

my requests are now open until about the beginning of november, where i'll start the proofreading, doing edits and posting of always the babysitter.

the characters that i write for are ;

steve harrington (henderson!reader)

eddie munson (newest addition) [henderson!reader]

stiles stilinski

dave hodgman

stuart twombly

thomas (tmr)

mitch rapp

richie boyle

joel dawson

sam taylor

stuff i won't write ;

unaliving one-self

kidnapping / trafficking

stranger things kids (el, max, lucas, mike, will, and dustin. they will be included in the story if the request is for steve.)

stuff i write if asked ;

a certain character (oc's [emma, and olivia{more background; pre atb}], sibling!reader, smut, fluff, angst, etc)

aged up characters (ex: college!steve & reader, dad!stiles)

au's (soulmate, modern, best friends to lovers, fake dating, break up;back together, secretly dating, enemies to lovers [will try my best for any other au's y'all request])

i do also write stilinski!twins, but those take more time to think about.

rules;

please stay within these newly found guidelines

if you don't see your request within 2-3 days, please let me know which one you sent and i'll do my best to get it out asap. if you don't see it within a week after that, it's because i've gotten busy with my hubbs, kiddos, and the kids i babysit mon-fri from 3pm-5:15pm, est.

reblog, reblog, reblog. i know you've seen this from every other content creator here on tumblr, but it really helps us out. this isn't tiktok where you like something and it shows up in the algorithm.

likes and comments are welcome! i love it when y'all like and comment on a fic i've written.

i am a mama to a 7 & 2 year old, as well as a wife of almost 10 years. please be patient with me. we're also in minor softball season as well.

please have fun!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN AS I AM POSTING ALWAYS THE BABYSITTER. if you still send one in, i will still write and post it for you within 2-3 days after a new chapter has been posted!!

edited to add: anything with an asterisk is just the working title, and is subject to change at any point during the writing process before or even after posting.

[dylan-o-yumm]

Stranger Danger - Mitch Rapp X Reader

Note: I’ve only read the first few chapters of the book so I don’t know if it specifies anything but I have seen the movie twice, so I hope this is good enough cause I know next to nothing about all the agent talk and missions and all that. So fingers crossed this works.

Warnings (!): fluff, smut, oral (girl receiving), choking, multiple orgasms, rough sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, mentions of death (?)

Word count: 14k

I pull back the thin, yellow curtain that shields me from the bright sun, peeking my head out slightly to catch a glimpse of the men training within the trees. The second my (e/c) eyes find them, a muscular man with black hair is being flung over onto his back by Stan. I wince, expecting that to hurt the guy, all the rocks and twigs probably digging into his back. They’re pretty far from the old house but not to far that I can’t see what’s going on. They’re mainly just blurry figures in the distance but I’d be able to spot my dad in any crowd.

The outside world always interested me. No, I don’t me the grass and sunshine. The real outside world. It’s brutal and horrible. Body’s dropping, blood pooling and the heart shattering sounds of gun fire.  You’d think that I’d be used to all that, since Stan is my father. However, it all sickens me. Don’t get me wrong, I think that what my dad does is helping make the world a better place, ridding the Earth of these horrible terrorists one by one. But just the sheer brutality of it all makes my stomach churn. However, when I said that the outside world interested me, doesn’t mean I want to be a part of it, at least not on the field. I want to help, but I know that if I hold a heavy, metal gun in my small, fragile hands I won’t be able to pull the trigger. No matter what a man has done, I’d never be able to end his life. And my dad knows this, that’s why he’s kept me away from all the training sessions and recruits so that I don’t get mixed up in it all. I’d much prefer to be on the other side of the screen, helping whoever is on the field. I’d be helping, saving lives. Not ending one.

I snap out of my all-over-the-place thoughts when I see all the men heading towards the old house I’ve come to call home. They do this everyday, come over after training to have lunch - or a beer if they’re lucky,  but that’s only if my dad is in a good mood. This is the time of day when I’m expected to stay up in my room and not come out until the assassins have left. But today? I don’t know, let’s just say curiosity got the best of me.

I quickly rush over to my bedroom door, fling myself out of the room and practically sprint down the creaky steps, making sure I got to the kitchen before the guys, and my dad, entered the house. I jump up on the bar stool and rest my elbows on the counter, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a bite. Trying to look casual. The sound of friendly chatter escalates as the men approach, making me wonder if they’re ever this loud when they’re on a mission. I hear them enter the house, they’re footsteps creaking along the floorboards as they enter into the kitchen, where I’m seated.

“Y/n? What are you doing downstairs? You’re not meant to be down here at this time!” My dad practically yells at me. I’ve had to deal with his anger and attitude for my whole life. I’m pretty much used to it, but seeing the crowd of muscular, sweaty men behind him all staring at me makes me at a loss for words. These men have all killed someone. The thought echoes in my brain and I start to regret my decision of coming down here. “You either answer me, young lady or you March right back up to your room!” Just as I’m about to splutter an excuse, a soothing but also slightly rough voice stops me in my tracks.

“Who is this, sir?” A man with black, medium length hair and whiskey coloured eyes speaks out, stepping forward from the crowd. They way he said ‘sir’ made it seem like a joke, like he knows he’s better than Stan. But you’d be a fool not to fear my father, especially if you take orders from him. My father has never mistreated me, he’s a great parent, he can just get a little loud sometimes. But if I weren’t his daughter and I were a recruit, then I’d be pissing my pants. He sure knows how to make your life a living hell. Hell, I’ve seen him make a few grown men cry. It’s actually quite heartbreaking.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but she lives here” my dad huffed, giving them a white lie for the time being. “How come none of us have ever seen her before?” The same dark haired man challenged. He is clearly a smart one, and dumb for not shutting up when he should in the presence of Stan. Hurley clearly wasn’t prepared for this talk and he seems to be fuming. I quickly think of a decent explanation and blurt it out, saving my fathers ass for now.

“I don’t like small spaces” I state, jumping off the bar stool, crossing one foot over the other, appearing to look innocent. “And a bunch of men all hanging out in the kitchen seems like the smallest space in the house” well it’s not a lie. I do get a bit claustrophobic. “So I try not to get involved at those times” I rub the back of my neck, not liking all the eyes on me. I am known to be rather shy at first introductions.

“Good enough for me” one guy who stands at the back muttered and they all pushed forward, stumbling into the kitchen to grab a sandwich each off the counter that I prepared earlier for them. However, Stan and hazel eyes haven’t moved. My dad gives me a pointed look that tells me ‘we’ll talk later’ so I nod and watch as he walk off to grab a beer from the refrigerator, slapping hands away from the cold beverage as he closes the fridge door.

“So do you have one on one training here or something? Working for the CIA?” Hazel eyes is still standing there but now he’s taken a step towards me, somewhat interrogating me. He has light stubble on his cheeks and chin, adding more character to his intimidating personality. Though he seems to want to pry answers from me, there is also a kindness hidden behind his eyes and it makes me stare longer then intended. I have to shake my head and drop my gaze as I speak.

“Uh, not exactly. No” I quickly take another bite from the bright green apple in my hands so that he’d realise I would like to stop talking. He seems to get the hint, dropping the interrogation. I would have thought that he’d walk off with the other men after that, grab a sandwich and take a seat, instead he stays put, standing oddly close to me. When I decided to come down from my room, this is not exactly what I had in mind. I thought they’d all be brooding and dark, staring off into space remembering all the horrible things they’ve seen and done. But when I look at this guy beside me, he seems like a genuinely nice guy that is have a decent conversation with. Stop it! That’s what they’re trained to do. Look like an ordinary person you’d see walking along the street, but then they attack when you least expect it. I have to remind myself that these men are in fact human and not blood thirsty animals.

“How about a less threatening question, like, what’s your name?” The assassin looks down at me and I can’t help but notice the permanent little side smirk he wears on his lips. It’s almost hardly noticeable. “I’m Mitch” he greeted, sticking his hand out for me to shake.

“Y/n” I responded, reaching out to shake his hand in a friendly manner. He has nice hands. Big, veiny and could probably crush my hand right now if he wanted to, but also warm and soft like kitten paws. It’s almost impossible to believe that he has killed men with those hands. I don’t have to ask him if he has killed a man, I already know the answer. He has that same hint of a look in his eye that my dad has. My dad hadn’t always had that look, but I noticed it one day when he came home late, clutching his side in pain with cuts and bruises all over him. I was only a little girl when that happened. I wouldn’t like to know how many men he has killed since.

“I’m gonna go and eat. I’ll talk to you later maybe. Yeah?” Mitch concluded, gently tapping my elbow with his fingers. He waited for me to nod in response before smiling without showing his teeth and walking off to the other men. I watched as he leant over the counter to grab a sandwich, quickly taking a big bite then slipping out of the house. My eyebrows furrowed as to why he wouldn’t stay and have a little fun with his… Friends? Maybe he doesn’t get a long with any of them? Either way, I only just realise that there are a lot of men in the house and it’s getting pretty rowdy, giving me a headache. Seeing my dad sitting on the couch, sipping his beer, I walk over cautiously as I try not to touch any of the other guys.

“Hey, I’m gonna go up stairs now. Sorry about all that before” I apologise and pat him on the shoulder.I thought about giving him a kiss on the cheek but then realised that the guys might notice and get suspicious, if they aren’t already. I sure know Mitch is. Stan places his hand on top of mine, stopping me from walking off. “We will talk later, okay?” Though it was a question, he didn’t sound like he was asking at all. I nodded in agreement as he let go of my hand. Turning to walk up the stairs and realising I’m in big trouble.

As soon as I get into my room, I quickly shut the door and start pacing around, thinking of a good excuse that would lead to me being in less trouble. I know my dad is just trying to keep me safe but I hardly talked to those guys. I didn’t even talk to any of them except for Mitch. Plus, we hardly even did talk I pretty much just told him my name and that was it. These thoughts rush around my brain, thinking, thinking, thinking…

I stop pacing the room when I notice a light breeze coming in through my window. I’m certain I didn’t open it when I woke up this morning. It’s started getting cooler these days and I’m not a fan of the cold, so I decided to keep it shut for today.

The sudden noise of creaking floorboards behind me makes me jump in shock and fear. I spin quickly on my heal and shriek, jumping back and colliding into the wall, banging my head. Mitch stands there with his arms crossed, leaning on the wall. However, as soon as I let the embarrassing noice loose from my lips, he rushes over and places a firm hand over my mouth.

“Y/n, are you okay up there?” My dad yells from the bottom of the staircase. Mitch presses my body into the wall harder as a warning, giving me a harsh stare as to not say anything stupid. His hand slowly leaves my mouth, his palm accidentally brushing down my bottom lip. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Tell him you’re fine” Mitch whispers lowly, I know I probably shouldn’t trust him and I don’t think I do, but it doesn’t stop me from being curious.

“Yeah I’m fine, I just… Tripped?” I didn’t mean to raise my voice at the end, making it sound like a question. But with Mitch watching me and holding me made my brain stutter. Mitch closed his eyes and sighed, disappointed in my lack of lying skills. I shrug my shoulders and cringe at my own awkwardness. “Okay, well be careful” Stan hollered back. Seems that my lying skills are just good enough.

“What the hell are you doing in my room? And how’d you get in here anyway? I saw you left the house” I exclaimed, placing my hands on his chest and shoving him back. I don’t have enough strength to make him fall on his ass, but he did stumble back a step or two. I watch as he runs a hand over his stubble, using his other hand to point at the open window I was confused about. Makes sense. I turn around and stop over to the window, slamming it shut and pulling the curtain shut. “Great, we’ve got ourselves a damn Romeo over here” I grumbled.

“I just wanted to talk. I’m sorry for barging in but… Listen, I’ve been here for about a month now and you’ve apparently been here the whole time” he points an accusing finger at me as he stares at me with his whiskey eyes. His voice is getting dangerously low and I can tell he is getting angry. “I just don’t understand how no one has ever seen you before” he concludes, stepping quickly to press his arm against my chest and keeping me pressed firmly against the wall. “Who are you?! You a spy? You said you’re not training here so tell me!” My eyes widen in fear as I grip at his arm, trying desperately to dig my nails into his flesh to get him off me.

“I just live here! Please let me go!” I pleaded, leaving crescent shaped marks all over his arm. He isn’t exactly hurting me, but the fear of what he could do to me is taking over and forcing me to get away from him. “I’m not a spy, I swear on my life!” I squeaked, wanting to kick his shins but his feet are stomped down on my toes, keeping me from moving them.

“Why is Hurley just letting you stay here then, huh? Stop lying! What have you told him?” His hand slams against the wall beside my head and I whimper under his stare. “Tell me!” While he is angry and fuming, he still manages to keep his voice low enough so that my dad won’t hear. However…

A knock at my door forces Mitch to lessen his grip on me, I push him off and he quickly grabs my upper arm. “Y/n I think it’s time for our chat. Are you decent?” My fathers voice is heard from the other side of the door. Mitch puts his index finger to his lips, telling me to keep quiet. I nod, some reason feeling the need to trust him. I glance around my room for a spot for Mitch to hide while I talk to my dad. Not fully thinking through that Mitch will hear everything that is being said, I point over to the wardrobe.

“Uh, just a second! I’ll be right there” I quickly call out as I open the wardrobe door and stuff Mitch inside. He gives me a warning glare and I nod my head, shutting the door on him and walking over to where my dad is. With a deep breath and a fake smile thrown on my face, I open the door and let him inside.

“I don’t wanna yell” he starts off “I just wanna get this sorted out nice and calmly, okay?” He asks and I take a seat on my blue covered bed, nodding in agreement. “This was our arrangement, wasn’t it? You stay away from the trainees if you wanna be able to stay here” he quizzed and I nodded once again. “Why did we make that a rule, Y/n?” He stays stood in front of me, looking down on me like a disappointed parent. Which he is.  

“For my protection” I assured. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I just… I don’t know. I don’t really have any friends and I guess I just miss having people to talk to” I confess. A squeak comes from the wardrobe followed by a faint bang. I start fake coughing to keep the attention away. “It’s not gonna happen again and I fully understand why you’re upset with me. Now, I’m tired so do you mind if we finish this conversation here?” I blabber, rushing my words so that he will hurry up and leave so that Mitch doesn’t get caught. Not only will I get busted for having a guy in my room, but one of his own trainees? I’ll be grounded for life!

Stan sighs and runs a hand over his balding head “I guess we can end it here. But it’s only four in the afternoon, and your tired? You feeling okay?” He asks like a worried father would. I simply give a reassuring smile and nod, leading him out of my room. “Okay, well… Goodnight, I guess” he ended with a low voice, probably disappointed that he didn’t get to lecture me some more.

“Goodnight” I breathed, closing the door behind him and locking it. I spin on my heal and lean against the wood, sighing after taking in a big breath. I feel like the worlds worst daughter right now. He does care for me and he is just looking out for me, of course I had to go and make him worry. “You’re his daughter, aren’t you?” I jump at the sudden noice, forgetting that Mitch was even there. Instead of getting all defensive and angry, I just slowly nod my head, keeping my eyes on a spot of hardwood on the floor.  "Shit" Mitch mutters. “Why have you been hidden away in here then?” He asks like it’s the craziest thing in the world.

“Weren’t you listening?” I snap, not wanting to go into all the details. I would much rather keep my mind on something else. As I feel myself getting emotional, I shuffle over to my bed and lay down on my back, staring up at the ceiling and forcing tears back down. “Can we talk about something else. I’m not in the mood right now” I say politely.

“Uh, have you had any training? I mean, if I were a terrorist I could have easily killed you before. You weren’t prepared at all, plus I had you in a easy grip, you should have been able to easily get out of that” he accuses walking over towards the bed and taking a seat at the end, facing away from me. However, with his back to me I can admire his muscles and how defined he is. He is wearing a simple black t-shirt with dark blue jeans, simple and casual. “You’re not really doing a good job at cheering me up, Mitch” his head whipped around once he heard his name, as if he forgot he told me it and was wondering how I knew. Once he calms down he mutters a small ‘sorry’ then turns back around.

“And to answer your question; no. I haven’t had any training” Mitch turns to look at me once again, propping a leg up on the bed so that his body is facing me as well. The look on his face makes me feel like I have two heads or something. “I know, the daughter of the infamous Stan Hurley hasn’t had training. It was my call though” again, he looks at me with curious and confused eyes. “I don’t wanna be… Like you. No offence” I explained. Just now I’m realising how easy it is to get lost in his eyes. Wow, that sounded cliché. “None taken” he states with a serious face, not even a smile or nothing.

“I do wanna be able to help in some way though. But, me out on the field?” I pause to chuckle “I’d only either get myself killed or the people working with me” I shake my head and push myself up into a sitting position, scooting towards the end of the bed to sit next to Mitch. “How would you want to help then?” He asks with curios eyes. Sitting next to him, this close, forces me to admire how attractive he is. Especially his lips. They’re so defined, the perfect Cupid’s bow and the perfect shape for kissing. I realise that I’m looking right at his lips and he probability is thinking hat I want to kiss him, so I cast my gaze to my hands in my lap. “I’m not sure. Maybe like a personal nurse or something like that” I chuckle.

“No, that’s actually a good idea. You know how to treat bullet wounds? Burns? Cuts?” He asks rather quickly, like he’s excited for this to happen or something. I nod my head with furrowed brows “I’ve had to stitch up my dad a few times so I know enough to make sure that no one bleeds out” I explain. Burns and cuts are simple, but with bullet wounds, that can be tricky. Lucky I’ve had some practice, I guess. “Your dad” Mitch repeats, seeming to be in a trance. I elbow him in his side and his eyes find mine. “Sorry, its gonna take some time for me to get used to the fact that he even has a kid” he clarified.

“You can’t tell anyone. Don’t tell a soul, especially Stan” I place my hand on his shoulder and get him to look me in the eyes. “I’m trusting you with this, Mitch. Promise me you won’t tell anyone” his eyes shifted down when his name left my lips. He can’t have forgotten again, right? “Yeah. Sure” he uttered. It wasn’t the best, I would take a pinky promise over that but I guess it’ll do for now.

It’s been about two hours now, the sun slowly sinking down behind the trees, casting a nice pink and orange light across the sky. Mitch and I are sitting on my bed like teenagers gossiping about school. I lay with my hands probing my upper body half up while Mitch sits cross legged, fiddling the the bed sheets in his fingers. We spent the last hour or so talking about his past, as much as he didn’t want to, I practically forced him to open up - in the nicest way possible. He must have known that getting it off his chest would make things seem easier. He told me about how he lost his parents in a car crash, how he got expelled from many schools, and how he then lost his fiancé. I wanted to cry when he told me he saw her already dead body getting shot at right in front of him, but I kept my tears down, trying my best to be strong for him. While he seemed to speak with a cold tone and hard stare, I did notice when his eyes glossed over when he talked about his girlfriend who he had just proposed to. But what made me angry, was the fact that my father used the video Mitch recorded of him proposing, just to teach him a lesson.

Don’t let it get personal.

I had heard him say it many times, but using his lovers death as a lesson made my blood boil. Mitch is a good guy. I had learnt that while talking to him for the past hour or two. The only reason he is here is to avenge his girlfriend and make sure no one has to go through the pain she went through. Those were his words. But I think that he’s doing this so that no one has to feel the pain he went through.

“Well, there you go. You got me to tell you my life story. Now it’s your turn” Mitch sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. God, I’d love to do that to him. He shifts so that his knees are brought up to his chest while his elbows rest on his knees, his whiskey eyes staring intently at me.

“It’s pretty simple really. Mom and dad divorced, mom passed away so I moved here to live with my dad. That’s about it” I explain quickly, I wasn’t very close with my mom and it happened five years ago so I’ve grown to accept her passing. “School was… School. I had friends but after graduation we stopped talking to each other. So, my story isn’t really that exciting” I scoff, trying to think of something interesting to tell him since he opened up to me about everything. However, my mind comes up blank.

“Well, let’s talk more about this idea of yours” he suggests and I furrow my brows in confusion. “You being a nurse for us. If your life really is a boring as you say it is-”

“I never said it was boring” I chuckle. However he ignores my comment and continues. “Wouldn’t it be better than being cooped up in here for the rest of your life? You could come on missions with us, see the world. But you’d be staying in a hotel while we finish the job obviously” while his voice stays somewhat monotoned, I can see that he is really on board with this idea.

“I don’t know, Mitch…” I would honestly love to help and set this plan into motion, but that doesn’t hide the fact that I’m scared. Mitch must have seen the fear in my eyes “You could come with me for your first run if that makes you feel better. Hence you don’t really know the other guys. I’ll make sure no one knows about you, you’ll strictly be in the hotel to patch me up when I come back bleeding” he says it all with such confidence. “Y/n, I’ve seen men die from bleeding out, it’s slow and painful. But if you’re there, you can prevent us from dying” his voice dropped to an almost whisper.

“I would love to help, really! But, there’s no way my dad would let me go with you” I state sadly. Mitch’s eyes only harden and I can tell he is going to do anything to make sure he gets his way. “I’ll talk to your dad. He isn’t a big fan of me but I’m sure I can get him to agree to this” he nods his head sternly, he suddenly hops off the bed and walks over to the window.

“You’re not going to talk to him now are you?” I jump up, ready to stop him. We haven’t thought this through properly. If he talks to my dad then Stan will know that Mitch has been talking to me. He’s already opening the window and pulling the curtains open so I grab his shoulder and turn him to face me.

“No, no it’s just that they’re probably going to do roll call soon if they haven’t already. So I should probably be there for that” he explains with that stupidly cute smirk on his face. I take a deep breath and nod my head, taking my hand off him. He turns back around and slides the glass window open.

“Hang on, they do roll call?” I ask with curiosity. There are only about ten guys, if someone were missing then they’d know, right?

“Let’s hope not” mitch grunts as he lifts a leg though the window. I laugh at his response and shake my head at how unprofessional he has been today. I did only just meet him today though, so maybe he’s always like that. Who knows really.

“You need to smile more. It suits you” he encouraged as he stands on outside on the roof now. As he looks into the room he was just in, he glances at me as if he wanted to say something more. He must have changed his mind since I practically saw him shake the words out of his head.

“Right back at you” I whisper, sliding the window shut on him and waving innocently. He smirks and shakes his head, waving his hand once before jumping down from the roof and landing swiftly and quietly on the porch below. I chuckle as I watch him run over towards where the recruits stay, closing the yellow curtain when I can no longer see him.

I like this guy.

Mitch

I stand with my hands pressed firmly into the table separating me and Hurley. Hurley is sitting down, hardly acknowledging my presence as he types away at his laptop. “We don’t have anyone that can be a personal nurse, Rapp. And I’m not paying someone for the mistakes you make out in the field” Stan presses and I huff in annoyance. I had brought him the idea about Y/n being on missions with us for when we get injured - without using her name - just to see what he thinks of the whole idea.

“What if we do have someone? And what if she doesn’t care about getting payed?” I suggest, merely dropping hints that the person I’m talking about is right up stairs. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m even trying so hard to get her this job. As soon as I saw her yesterday, I was suspicious and I didn’t trust her one bit. But then when we were talking last night, I couldn’t help the swelling in my chest whenever she so much as said my name.

“Who in this day and age doesn’t care about getting payed, Rapp?” Stan asks like I’m stupid, his voice slowly getting louder and louder. My eyes flicker to the roof separating us from Y/n’s room. Hurley seems to get what I’m saying now and I can practically see him turn red like some cartoon character. “No. No, no, no! You have not been talking to her about this, Mitch! I will kick your ass so hard that you’ll be stuck in a damn coma!” I straighten up, taking my hands off the table and keeping a hard stare on him, making sure to show him that I’m not backing down.

“It was her idea, sir.” I state calmly. “I simply am the one just trying to make it happen” Stan only gets angrier at this statement. However, I know that if I push him just enough, he will probably start swinging.

“When did you get so friendly with her, huh? I watched you two yesterday and she sure as hell didn’t know you” he seethes, slipping around the table like a snake eyeing its prey. I can already tell that by the way this is going I’m going to have to go with plan B. Plan A being just a good ole chat.

“Last night, sir. We got pretty friendly, if that’s how you wanna put it” I cringe at my own words, knowing that it’ll push Stan overboard. And that’s exactly what he does. His fist flies towards my face and instead of ducking or stopping him, I let it slam into my jaw. I stumble back and crash into the wall, making a painting fall and glass shatters everywhere from the frame. Stan is quick to grab at the collar of my shirt with one hand, keeping me in his grip while his other hand is balled into a fish and crashing down on my ace repeatedly.

Rushed footsteps sound from the stairs and suddenly the h/c girl is standing behind Hurley, trying to rip him off me. “Dad what the hell are you doing? Get off him!” She yells frantically, ripping at the back of his shirt and attempting to grab his arm, stopping him from hitting me. Well, at least plan B worked. Now that I have cuts on my face, Y/n can now prove her skills as a nurse. Now that she’s down here, I don’t need to get hit anymore. I press my boot to Stan’s stomach and push him back, watching him fall back and catch himself on the table.

“What… Did you… call me?” Stan huffs directing his question to Y/n. She however, doesn’t care what he has to say at this moment, crouching down to where I’m sat on the floor and grabbing my face in between her hands. She replies with a quick ‘he already knows dad’ before examining the cuts on my cheek and lip. I can feel blood dripping down my left cheek while a coppery taste fills my mouth. “I’ll be right back” she reassures me, standing up to probably go get a first aid kit. “Don’t touch him” she grumbles to her bloody knuckled father.

I take this time to lift my body up, sitting with my back resting against the wall. Hurley’s eyes stare daggers into me before he walks over to where all the glass shattered, starting to pick up shards. “You do not tell a soul about her my daughter, you understand me?” He seethes, staring at me from under his eyebrows, showing nothing but anger with a warning stare.

“Yes sir” I grunted, hearing Y/n walking back into the room. She carries a bowel with water in it and a wash cloth, in her other hand is a small cardboard box that looks like the size of a cigarette packet. She kneels in front of me, placing the bowel onto the floor beside her. Without warning she grabs my chin and forces me to look in her direction. She stares at the cuts on my cheek, narrowing her eyes slightly. “They’re not deep enough for stitches. So consider yourself lucky” she mutters, not seeming to be her happy self.

With her eyes hard and jaw set only makes me like her more. She takes the washcloth to wipe away blood from my swollen cheek, rinsing the blood into the water and making it slowly turn into a murky red colour. I watch her face closely as she fixes me up, her e/c eyes fixated on my cuts. My eyes slowly travel down to her lips, wondering how soft and warm they must feel against mine. My eyes wonder slightly lower to her neck, wanting nothing more than to lean forward to bite and lick at her soft skin. Then my eyes wander even lower to see just the right amount of cleavage showing from her simple black shirt. I would love to see what she looks like without the shirt on, standing in all her glory. I would love seeing her underneath me, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in pleasure.

I blink rapidly, forcing the lust out of my eyes. She was too busy cleaning up the cuts that she didn’t notice me admiring her beauty. She’s so innocent and kind that it makes me feel bad for thinking about her in such dirty ways. But I can’t help but feel drawn to her. I don’t think I’m necessarily drawn to her sexually - though that’s defiantly there - but the way she treats me is unlike any other person. For instance, when I told her everything about my past, she didn’t cry or show sympathy, even though I know she wanted to. She held herself together for me and I’m thankful for that. Having people look at you with nothing but sympathy in they’re eyes, it’s one of the worst feelings.

“Look at her go. And you’re saying she wouldn’t be good enough for the job” I speak up, needing to distract my from the beautiful girl in front on me, touching me. Stan is still trying to pick up shards of glass on the floor, placing the large pieces on the table and holding the smaller parts in his hands. His head snaps up to look at the two of us, narrowing his eyes at me. “I never said she wouldn’t be good enough, she’d be the best there is!” He argued, waiting for a response from Y/n and I’m assuming he didn’t want to hear what left her mouth…

“You can both kiss my ass” she snarled, not quite happy with either of us. Ignoring all the fighting that had previously happened, Hurley and I exchanged glances, unsure of what the hell to say. That was nothing like the innocent Y/n that I know. She seemed to notice our looks, sighing and throwing the blood soaked cloth into the bowel of red water. “You-” she points to me with a soft rage in her eyes, not quite being able to be completely angry. “I’m not stupid. I know you wanted this to happen. Get him to punch you so that I’d come running down here to patch you up and show him that I can be a nurse” she takes a deep breath before continuing “you basically just got beaten up to make me get the job - which still won’t happen by the way!” Her voice was soft and almost tankful at the beginning but it quickly changed to her being angry again. “And you!” She turned to Stan “you have to solve everything with violence! Why can’t you just talk like a normal person?” She ranted, finishing with a sigh.

“That’s not the big issue here, Y/n. The problem is that this sick son of a bitch wants you in on all this!” Stan points at me harshly and I shake my head. Y/n goes to open her mouth to explain but I interject. “If we get injured out there - cause we do, quite a lot - we don’t have to risk going to a hospital and getting hunted down while we’re in robes that don’t cover our asses. Y/n would be waiting at the hotel and she could patch us up when we get back if we haven’t already bled out in some alleyway” I tried to convince him and I could see the cogs turning in his brain.

“Please dad? I wanna help” she added, showing just how much this means to her. When it looked like her dad was going to walk away she huffed and turned back to me, wiping my bottom lip with the cloth gently. My stomached did a weird flip thing at the sudden contact. Her eyes look sad and her lips are pressed into a thin line. I reach out and place my hand on top of hers that’s resting on her knee. Her eyes meet mine and I show a small smile, she smiles too but it doesn’t reach her eyes. If she weren’t around someone then she would probably cry, having her hopes up and then have that hope ripped away so quickly.

What we didn’t know was that Stan was watching us the whole time. A loud sigh escapes his lips before he proclaims “Just for something small. No major terrorist hunt downs” he runs a hand over his head and Y/n’s face lights up. She stands up and quickly rushes over to him to give him a hug. Stan smiles sadly as he wraps his arms around her in a loving hug. “I’ll make sure I’m safe at all times, I promise” she reassures him, breaking away from the hug to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I hate to say it but, you can go with Rapp. He’s a dick but he’s good at what he does” my eyes widen in shock at Hurley’s words. He’s trusting me to take her with me? He’s never trusted me with anything, let alone his daughter! This is when I stand up from my position on the floor and walk over to shake his hand. Y/n stops me before I can stretch my arm out by wrapping her arms around my neck in a warm embrace. I place my hands on the small of her back as she whispers a quiet 'thank you’ in my ear, the corner of my mouth lifts up at the words.

A week later

Rome. Beautiful Rome. Even the view from in the plane was gorgeous. I know I’ll be stuck in a hotel for most of the time but it’s still a nice experience. Mitch is here to take down a terrorist that seems to be lacking in the smart department. Both my dad and Mitch thought it’d be best if I didn’t know much about the mission but the young Assassin told me some of the details while we were on the plane. A man who I don’t know the name of as Mitch thought it’d be best if I didn’t know, was planing to start an attack. However, the man didn’t do a good job at keeping it on the down low. Kennedy found out almost immediately, informing Stan to send someone out. And since the guy we’re teaching down seems to be pretty stupid, my dad said yes to me coming. He was definitely worried and the long, bone crushing hug before I got on the plane told me so.

We had arrived at the hotel about two hours ago. The first thing Mitch did was check for hidden cameras and look out the widow to see if any cars had followed them. We seemed to be safe but he still shut the curtains “stay away from widows for now, just to be safe” he warned and I nodded, disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to look at the view. However I understood why and kept my mouth shut.

It only now just hit me that I might not even be needed here at all. If Mitch can take down this guy and comes back untouched, then my only purpose being here is to watch television and read. Not that I’m hoping for him to come back hurt, but it just makes me feel useless if I’m stuck in here doing nothing while he is out there saving people. “I have to go out at seven, apparently our guy will be meeting his mistress at quarter past. Will you be okay here by yourself?” Mitch asks with a hint of worry in his eyes.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I chuckle and he slowly walks over to me, his chest almost pressed against mine as the tip of our shoes clink together. My breath gets caught in my throat seeing him so close, his whiskey eyes show concern for me. His fingertips reach out and grab a piece of my h/c hair, tucking it behind my ear then resting his large, strong hand on my cheek. “I’ll be fine” I swallow thickly, having trouble catching my breath. I can’t help but lean into his touch, placing my smaller hand on top of his. His eyes drift down to my lips and on instinct I wet my bottom lip with my tongue. Seeing his eyes watching my lips only makes me look at his, admiring that perfect Cupid’s bow. He sees my staring at his lips as an invitation, slowly leaning down to press his against mine. However they never meet.

A buzzing noice coming from his jeans pocket makes us jump apart from each other, suddenly having an awkward silence between us. As he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, I scratch the back of my neck and press my lips into a thin line. “Hello?” Mitch sighs into the phone, I watch him as his eyes stay fixated on me while he listens to whoever is on the other line. His eyes quickly flicker down my body and returns to my eyes, if I weren’t looking into his whiskey orbs then I wouldn’t have noticed them scanning my body. “Were safe and sound, sir. And how about instead of calling every hour why don’t I just text you” he states rather than asks. Hearing him say 'sir’ indicates that he’s taking to my father.

They talk for a couple more seconds before Mitch stuffs his phone back in his pocket. “Was that a mission call or a checking-in-on-my-daughter call?” I ask with a faint chuckle, trying to ignore the fact that we almost were about to make out. “Definitely checking in on you, he just added a bunch of words on the end to make it seem like he was talking about the mission instead” he scratches the back of his head as he scoffs, still feeling the awkwardness. “I should probably get ready to head out. And you should get some rest… You know, jet lag” he offers, nodding his head and I look down at my shoes.

“I don’t think I will be able to sleep while you’re out there. I’ll be too scared” I don’t know why I said it but I did. I glance up at him through my eyelashes, feeling a deep blush slowly creep up on my cheeks. “You’re safe here. What are you scared of?” He asks like I’m a little kid scared of the boogie man. “Loosing you” if I wasn’t blushing before, I certainly am now. It’s as if my mouth has a mind of its own, spilling out words I haven’t even thought of saying yet. I know he’s good at what he does and I shouldn’t be worried about never seeing him again because I will, I know it. But there a little voice in the back of my mind telling me that this could be our last conversation.

“Fuck it” he mutters under his breath before taking two quick strides towards me, taking my face in between his large, soft hands. His eyes closed as his two pink lips came crashing down on mine. I hardly have time to react, at first my eyes only widened in shock of his sudden actions, but I quickly started kissing back, letting my eyelids fall shut. My hands slowly creep up to touch his arms, sliding up past his buff shoulders, over his neck and into his almost-black, soft locks. His lips are not as soft as I imagined but that only adds to the surprise; slightly rough and a little chapped but all the more delicious. His tongue swipes along my bottom lip, sending shivers throughout my whole body. I part my lips and let his tongue invade my mouth, letting a moan slide out when our tongues touch and glide together. He tastes good - no amazing! Addictive.

His hands slide down from my face to my arms where he gently locks our fingers together with one hand as the other latches onto my waist. We suddenly remember that we need to eventually catch our breath, whining at the loss of our lips touching when he pulls back. Our breathes are uneven and heavy, hands clasping onto each other just so we can feel each other a little longer. “I wasn’t lying when I said I should get ready” he pants, his hand rubbing small circles on my clothed waist. I nod my head, leaning forward to press my forehead to his, just to catch my breath. Mitch doesn’t protest against me not letting him go for the moment, instead he closes his eyes and breathes in my scent.

“I don’t want my dad to get mad at you for being late, so I should probably let you go now” I whisper, fearing that I’ll scare him off if I talk to loud. He nods in understanding and slowly pulls himself away from me. I suddenly feel cold without his hands on me.I crave his touch like a lovesick teenager. And all of a sudden, that awkward tension is back in between us. He brings his hand up to rub at the back of his neck, sucking in a breath before walking over towards the bathroom to get himself ready.

“Hey, Mitch?” I quickly call out and stop him in his tracks, he doesn’t turn around to face me but his head gently leans to the side, indicating that he’s listening “Thanks for getting me here” I had already thanked him enough on the plane flight over here, he would shake it away as if it were nothing, but this time I felt like he actually heard me. The corner of his mouth turning up in that gorgeous smirk, not saying a word before disappearing into the bathroom.

Mitch had left a couple hours ago and I right about not being able to get some sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind would conjure up different ways of him dying. The sick image being burned into my brain and the back of my eye lids so that any time I closed my eyes I would see the life drain from him. So I gave up on trying to sleep, waddling into the lounge room with a blanket wrapped around me and trying to distract my mind with the television. Surprisingly it worked, but I was anxiously bitting my nails as my eyes were glued to the screen.

I sat like that for about an hour and a half before deciding that I should make myself a cup of tea. If I make coffee then I have no hope of sleeping at all tonight. As I watch into the kitchen I see that the clock on the microwave reads '9:30’ pm. That means that Mitch has only been gone for two and a half hours. It feels like so much longer. Grabbing a tea bag and a mug from the cupboard above my head, I then boil the jug. I stand and wait for about two minutes before it’s finished boiling, poring the hot, steamy liquid into the mug, popping the tea bag in afterwards. I then grab the milk from the fridge and the sugar from the cupboard, finishing making my hot beverage.

“Shit fuck!” I was lucky I wasn’t holding my drink in my hands otherwise I would have spilt it all over me. Grunting and panting can be heard from the front entrance, however I didn’t hear the door open or close. Without thinking I grab a knife out of the top draw and walk out into the living room where I heard more cusses coming from. My heart beat increases and I have to hold my breath so that my panting doesn’t alert where I am. However, before I can turn the corner into the living room, a hand shoots out from behind the wall, grasping the weapon from my hands. I shriek in surprise, jumping back and pressing myself against the wall.

A mop of black hair and the shine of whiskey eyes is what makes my heart immediately slow back down. Mitch throws the knife to the floor and shakes his head out of anger. “Mitch, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know it was you” I apologise, flicking the lights on. I gasp at the sight before me; a bloody and beaten version of the man I’ve developed feeling for. His left shoulder is bleeding so much that it’s leaving small splotches of red wherever he walks, the circle shaped wound  standing out from his deep blue shirt, immediately shows me that he’s been shot. He has a few more scratches here and there but they don’t seem to be bad enough for even a bandaid. He has blood splattered on his neck and cheek, but something tells me it’s not his.

“Well, where’s my nurse?” He tries to joke but the pain in his voice makes my eyes widen. I quickly dart back into the kitchen and grab my tea before returning to Mitch, grabbing his non-wounded arm and wrapping it over my shoulder as I help him wobble over to the couch. He must have gotten kicked in he knee by the way he’s walking. I lean down so that he can fall onto the couch softly, though he still grunts in pain. “Sorry, just put pressure here and - uh - drunk this!” I place his hand right where it can lessen the blood flow while I pop the mug into his other hand. He might not be able to drink it since I put it in his left hand, which is the same arm he got shot in. But I leave that alone while I rush into the bedroom where my bags are and take out the first aid kit that I packed. It’s not really a kit, more like suit case.

I return to the couch and kneel in front of him on the floor. “I’d hate to see the other guy” I mutter, knowing that he’s probably got a billet between his eyes now. Mitch glares at the floor while I grab wipes out from the suitcase and start cleaning around his bullet wound, finding it incredibly difficult with his shirt still on. “Not a scratch on him” he sighs and I furrow my brows “apparently we were the stupid ones. This guy had a lot more men we had no clue about… He got away, while I had ten of his men shooting at me. I’m surprised only one of 'em got me” I sigh, knowing this wasn’t Mitch’s fault at all.

“How many did you kill? Apart from the one that got away” I ask, still dabbing away at his wound. When I don’t get an answer, I look up to his eyes and see that he is too scared to tell me. “Mitch, I already know that you have killed people before we even met, and I didn’t run away. So just tell me” I press. His eyes shift down to mine and he lets out the shortest breath before admitting “all of them”.

“Good” I didn’t like that I was relieved to hear that all those people lost their lives at Mitch’s hand. But, something about knowing they’re not going to come back to hurt him makes me worry a lot less. “I’m gonna need to take your shirt off. It’s impossible to do anything with it on” I explain and he visibly tenses up. I furrow my eyebrows, thinking that I hurt him, an apology about to leave my lips when I see that he’s uncomfortable. “I don’t want to” he mumbles, taking a long sip of the tea I gave him.

“You’re not a difficult toddler, Mitch. I need to get this wound cleaned or it can get infected… or you’ll just bleed out” I explain, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He sighs through his nostrils, his eyes showing sign of fear or uncertainty. “What are you afraid of?” I ask gently, placing my small hand on top of his, attempting to ease his thoughts. He stares into my eyes, having an unspoken conversation. He slowly grabs his shirt to take it off, the look of uncertainty more defined on his facials. I grab onto the hem of his shirt and help him lift it over his head, placing my hand under the fabric to make sure it doesn’t rub against his wound.

I almost gasp when I see him shirtless. Surprisingly not from the fact that he has a flawless physique, but because of the scars that are scattered all over his skin. Instead of staring with my mouth open like a goldfish, I kneel back down and get stuck into work. I go back to wiping away the blood so I can get a better look at his wound, seeing that the bullet has exited through the other side of his shoulder. That makes my job easier. Once the wound is clean, I wipe over it with rubbing alcohol, apologising when he hisses. After that, it’s time to patch him up.

“This doesn’t bother you?” He asks curiously, gesturing to his naked torso.   Those words alone, makes me want to wrap him in my arms and tell him how perfect he is in my eyes. Instead, I give him a wipe and shove it in his hand to clean the blood off his face. “Why would it?” I ask as I start ripping open the packaging for a bandage. I can feel his eyes on me, watching my every move, every breath and every emotion that shows on my face, trying to read what I’m feeling. “No reason. Forget it” he fumbles with the wipe in his hand before scrubbing at the dried blood on his cheeks and forehead.

I’m not liking the fact that we’re pretending we never kissed. I know that he is hurt but he doesn’t have to act like it didn’t happened. However, I’m guilty of not bringing it up too. I don’t even know why I’m acting like it didn’t happened, cause honestly it was the greatest kiss I’ve ever experienced. And I like to experience it again. Maybe I’m just keeping my trap shut because he is. I mean, if I were to randomly bring it up now, then it would make things ten times awkward. Maybe he regrets it? Maybe he wishes he never gave in. Maybe he just felt sorry for me and thought the kiss would shut me up. Who knows.

Since the bleeding has come to a slow dripping instead of gushing, I quickly stitch over it a couple times before putting a large, square bandaid on it. When I threaded the curved needle into his flesh he gasped at the sudden pain it caused, thrusting his hand onto my shoulder as he squeezed. I looked up at him and realised that he discarded the tea, placing it onto the table beside the couch so that he could grab onto me. When I was done, he retracted his hand away like nothing had just happened. When the giant bandaid is placed into his shoulder, I then stand up and walk around the couch so that I can do that all over again to the exit wound. When I stitched up this side, Mitch had nothing to cling onto except the couch, so he would clench his fists or grip at the leather.

Finally, after patching up both sides, I then wrap the bandage around and under his armpit so that it both held the bandaids more securely and applied pressure. I tap him on the top of his head and smile “all done. You were a great patient” I chirp as I pack away all the things back into the suitcase. “You were a great nurse. You quite probably saved my life today, doc” he breathes as he admires my handy work. “You’re smart, you probably could have done all that yourself” I chuckle, kicking the suitcase aside for now as I plop down into the couch beside the wounded Assassin. Mitch leans over towards me until I can feel his hot breath on my cheek. “Shut up and take the compliment” he sighs before grabbing my chin with his thumb and index finger, turning my head to look at him.

Just as our lips were about to meet, I open my mouth to speak. Needing to get an answer to the question that been bugging me for about half an hour now.

“Why did you think your scars would bother me?” I whisper, afraid that my asking would make him turn cold and give me the silent treatment. However, a small, sad smile plays on his lips. “Because they’re not pretty, Y/n. I look like a monster” he murmured as he watched his fingers play with the strands of my hair. A sudden anger washes through me and I get defensive.

“And who told you that?” I blurted, wanting nothing more than for him to understand that they are apart of him now, and he should learn to love himself more. “No one. The looks on people’s faces tell me enough” he mumbled and I finally snap, getting rid of my shyness for the moment.

I push him away from me so that I have to room to get onto my knees, throwing one over his thighs so that I’m now straddling him. I grasp his beautiful face in between my small hands and force my lips on his. His hands automatically latch onto my waist, letting himself sink into the kiss. Just as I felt his tongue slide across my bottom lip, I pulled away, panting heavily at the rough and passionate kiss. Hearing the little whimper leave his mouth when I pulled away made my stomach flip with a certain feeling that I’m not sure how to name. “May I?” I puff out, hovering my hand over his chest. He seems hesitant at first but he slowly nods his head.

My hand gently grazed over his skin, my fingertips brushing over a thick, pink scar right on his left pec. My other hand went down a bit lower to his belly button, tracing the small but noticeable scar just above. “They’re beautiful” I blurted, by really wanting the words to leave my lips. Mitch watches me and curiosity fills his eyes. “How” he uttered, gently rubbing patterns up and down my clothed back. I continue tracing different scars and marks on his body, finding them intriguing. I glance into his whiskey eyes before averting them back down to his chest, a deep blush covering my cheeks. “Because each and every one could have possibly killed you” I keep my voice at a whisper. “To me, it’s just seems like they’re a reminder. Reminding you that you are alive. Even after all the bad things you’ve been through… You’re still here, still breathing” I confess, feeling his hands slowly come to a stop, resting on my lower back.

“Why are you so good to me?” He asks, but before I can answer, he has already attached his lips back to mine. While the kiss is forceful and rough, there’s still a sweetness and passion within it. The room is silent apart from the sound of heavy breaths and lips smacking against lips. My hands find his hair and I pull, forcing his head to fall back while I bite on his bottom lip and drag it out until it rips away from my teeth. He groans and wraps both arms around my back, squeezing me into him roughly as his lips find mine once again.

This kiss clearly took a turn, from loving and sweet to rough and dominate. Any person with half a brain can tell where this is going… Or the tent forming in Mitch’s pants. Feeling a wetness staring to pool in my panties, I begin to grind and circle my hips into his, letting my tongue slip into his mouth when he growls in pleasure. His hands finally move from my back, down to my ass. His large hands grab and pinch my cheeks and I moan at the contact. I keep one hand in his black locks while my other hand slides down to play and pull at the tuft of hair on his chest. Our tongues slide and glide along each other, both of us exploring the others mouth and savouring every moment of it.

His hands slowly slide up, under my shirt and around so that they’re resting on my stomach. My skin tingles wherever he touches me, his fingers gliding softly upwards to cup my breasts. He moans when he realises I’m not wearing a bra. I gasp like a horny teenager when his fingers clasp my nipples, pinching and quickly making them hard.

“My shirt’s off, so why are you still wearing yours?” He breathes into my mouth, pulling away slowly so a string of our mixed saliva is what’s keeping our mouths connected. Usually I find that kind of stuff gross, but seeing his lust filled eyes and feeling his fingers pinching my nipples makes me all the more wetter. “I helped you take off yours, so help me take off mine” I smirk, loving his hazy, lust-ridden eyes on me.

Instead of sliding the fabric off me like any other man would, his hands stay under it and pull, causing a large tear to rip down the middle. My breasts bounce out of the tight fabric into his vision and I gasp as the cool air hits my already hardened nipples. With one more pull the fabric slides off my arms and onto the floor while Mitch goes back to playing with my boobs. However, he replaces his hands with his mouth, sucking and biting my cleavage to the point where I have blue and purple marks left there.

I close my eyes and let the pleasurable feeling of Mitch’s mouth on my skin take over. While his tongue works wonders on my hardened nubs, his hands rub up and down my thighs, getting closer and closer to where I need him most. My legs jolt uncontrollably as his hands gets closer, making him smirk around my nipple. He takes this as a sign to gently lower me down on the couch, keeping one hand on my thigh while the other supports my back. He slowly lays me down and hovers over me, putting his hands on either side of my head.

Mitch pecked my lips before kissing and licking down my jaw and neck. He leaves sweet, opened mouthed kisses on my skin, making me moan and pull his hair once he found and bit down on my sweet spot. As he pleasures me, I unknowingly trace all the scars I can feel. Mitch seemed to like the gesture as he hummed into my skin and licked the tender spot he just bit and sucked. Once again he pressed a gentle kiss to my swollen lips before trailing his lips down through the valley of my breasts. He then stuck his tongue out to lick the rest of the way down. My skin burns under his touch, wanting more and more.

As his head hovers above my clothed heat, he looks me in the eye, silently asking for my permission. I give a gentle smile and nod, using my fingertips to brush his hair out of his face. He rubs his hands down my sides until his fingers disappear into my pants, he slowly behind to pull then down my thighs but I stop him. “Wait, wait, wait” I breathe out, placing my hands on top of his. “What? Are you alright?” He asks concerned, immediately stopping his actions.

“I am, but you just got shot, isn’t this possibly the worst time to do… this?” I explain and a smirk plays onto his lips. “I’ve been shot quite a few times, Y/n. If I were in that much pain do you really think I’d be so willing to fuck you?” He chuckles, pressing sweet kisses just under my bellybutton. My heat starts throbbing at his dirty language. I shrug my shoulders and giggle as he looks up at me. His smirk disappears and he suddenly looks worried again. “Unless you don’t wanna do this? I don’t wanna force you into anything you don’t wanna do” instead of answering him, I simply slide my pants and panties down my legs.

I spread my legs open for him, pushing away any insecure feelings I have as smirk down at him. He smirks back and starts kissing and licking my thighs, getting closer and closer to where I need him most. “You’re so fucking beautiful” he says right before licking a long strip though my folds. I gasp and fist the leather couch as his tongue flicks over my clit. He hums and goes right back in, attaching his mouth to my bundle of nerves and sucking hard. “Mitch” his name leaves my lips in a moan, my hands coming down to his hair.

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt with a guy. I mean, I’ve only had sex with two other guys in my life but Mitch is different, better, sexier. I have to bite down on my lip hard, stopping myself from moaning and groaning like a porn star. My hips buck off the couch, trying to get even more friction happening. However, Mitch pins my hips down, only making me wanna squirm more.

He starts kitten licking my pussy and my legs begin to twitch every time his hot, wet tongue grazes my clit. “You’re so wet” he murmurs, sending vibrations through my heat. He glides his tongue downwards, keeping eye contact with me as he circles it around my entrance. He grabs my thighs and props my legs up on his shoulders - being mindful of his billet wound - so he has a better angle, then his tongue darts in.

He pushes his tongue in as far as he can and starts flicking it against my walls. I unintentionally clench and unclench, bringing my hand up to my mouth so I have something to bite down on. I can feel every little movement inside of me and the feeling is bringing me closer to the edge. As he laps at the inside of my pussy with fast motions, his nose brushes against my already swollen clit, causing me to tighten my legs around him.

He suddenly turns into an animal, grabbing my breast roughly with one hand, squeezing and pinching, while his other hand keeps me pressed flat on the the couch. His tongue rubs roughly on the roof of my pussy, back and forth, back and forth, until my legs can’t stop shaking. My hand begins to sting and I feel a warm liquid running down my wrist from biting down too hard. However, Mitch’s mouth causes me to completely push that out of my mind.

All of a sudden, his tongue leaves and the attaches itself to my clit while a long, slender finger is being pushed deep inside me. He sucks harshly on my throbbing bundle of nerves as his finger curls up and thrusts roughly in and out of me. The heels of my feet dig into his back, my toes curling while my fingers pull at his almost-black hair.

I clench tightly around his finger, making it harder for him to continue pumping in and out. With my legs shaking and my clit throbbing uncontrollably, I can tell I’m about to come. I peel my hand away from my mouth and let a loud moan echo throughout room. “M-Mitch, I’m g-gonna come” I pant, waiting for him to slow down the pace. However my shaky words only makes him speed up.

He swirls his tongue, collecting every bit of liquid he could before going straight back to sucking my clit. His stubble scratches at my thighs and folds, creating a delicious burning feeling. He added another finger into my dripping pussy, stretching my walls as he pumped at an unnatural pace. Screams of his name escaped from my lips and turned into gasps and whines.

He started using his tongue to spell out the alphabet on my sensitive bud, keeping his lips in place like a cage around my clit. Hearing me moan his name made him groan, sending more vibrations through my core. My hands have a death-like grip in his hair, my body stiffening slightly when I feel my orgasm. He bit down on my swollen bud and that’s what sent me over the edge.

My entire body shakes as my climax takes place, Mitch doesn’t stop his pace, letting me ride out my high on his fingers. He moves his tongue down to my entrance once again and collects every bit of fluid, lapping it all up. As my body relaxes onto the couch, Mitch takes his tongue off me and pulls out his fingers. His hazy, lust-filled eyes bore right into mine as he sticks his two slender fingers in his mouth, licking off my climax. I can see my juices glistening on his chin as he takes care of that as well.

“You taste delicious, baby” he growls, slowly inching up towards my face. I feel a blush creep up on my cheeks as he looks at me like his last meal. My eyes travel down his body and towards a very noticeable tent in his pants. His lips latching onto mine breaks my longing stare at his clothed erection. I can taste myself on his lips but I don’t mind.

I let my hand wander down his beautifully sculpted body and towards his manhood. My hand grabs him and begins stroking him though his pants. I can feel how big he is and I can feel my pussy getting wet again. As I stroke him, he breaks the kiss to gasp softly in pleasure.

“Mitch, please” I beg, bitting my lip as I watch my hand outline his hard member. He’s like a drug to me. I can feel myself getting lost in his presence, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck me senseless.  Though my body still feels tingly from my previous orgasm, the need for him inside me is taking over.

“I was planing on teasing you some more but if I wait any longer I’m gonna explode” Mitch groans as he stands up from the couch, fumbling with his belt buckle and pulling it out of all the loops in one swift motion. He drops the belt on the ground and pulls his pants down to his ankles, along with his boxers. I have to bite my lip so I don’t let my jaw drop to the floor. He is big and I worry that it’s going to hurt, but it also makes me want it even more. He kicks his pants and boxers off then kneels back into the couch, grabbing behind my knee and pulling my hips flush with his.

His tip is leaking with pre come and I can see the veins pulsing on his shaft, he has just the right amount of black hair that leads down off his happy trail. I wait as patiently as possible as he grabs himself and pumps his length in his hand a few times. He jerks his erection the way he prefers, coating his cock in his pre come. I reach my leg around his waist and pull him in closer to me. He smirks but gets the hint, hovering over me with one hand beside my head while the other wraps around my neck.

“You ready, baby girl?” He purrs like a kitten and I nod my head eagerly. I’m loving the names he’s calling me, feelings my heart pick up a beat every time he calls me something different. His hand squeezes around my neck, stopping the blood from flowing to my head. He takes his other hand and grabs himself again, sliding the tip through my folds and circling my clit. My body shudders at the feeling, still feeling the aftermaths of my previous climax.

“You better do something now, Rapp” I groan, thrusting my hips against his for more friction. His forehead read against mine as we both stare into each other’s eyes. Our breaths are heavy as we both await for what we both want. His tip is at my entrance now, ever so slowly inching inside. I bite my lip again and wrap my hand around his neck, burying my head in his good shoulder. “C'mon, Mitch. You’re killing me here” I moan, trying to move my hips again but his body is flush with mine, keeping me in place.

All of a sudden he snaps his hips into mine, thrusting his whole length inside me. My juices made it easy for him to slide in. I squeal and bite down on his shoulder from the pain of his large cock stretching me out. He fills me up nicely but the pain is a bit to much. I cling desperately onto him, silently thanking him for not moving just yet. “You good?” He whispers in my ear, concern present in his voice. I take my teeth off his shoulder and rest my forehead on his neck. “Yeah, I just need a sec” I breathe out.

I can feel every inch of him; his pulsing veins, his perfect mushroom tip, his size. But I can also feel my walls stretching and pulling to fit him in. My entrance is burning from the brutal opening but I’m not mad. The pain lessens and Mitch pressing soft, loving kisses to my neck and shoulder is helping. “Okay, I think I’m good” I whisper, nodding my head slightly.

He lifts his head up to look me in the eyes, concern still showing. I smile softly and he presses a sweet kiss to my lips before slowly moving. Goosebumps

cover my body as he slowly thrusts in and out of me, the dull ache being forgotten over the pleasure. It only just hit me that I’ve only known this man for about two weeks. Usually I’d be mad at myself for sleeping with a man I hardly know, but Mitch and I have a connection and I really do like him.

He starts picking up the speed, thrusting faster and harder. I begin to clench around him, gripping his shoulders tightly. A sharp hiss comes from his lips and I realise that I was putting a little too much pressure on his wounded shoulder. “Sorry” I pant, moving my hands under his arms to claw and scratch at his back.

Every time he trusted up, he would rub against me in ways that makes my body jolt and shiver. Loud moans and gasps of his name leave my lips causing him to pump his cock inside my warm, wet pussy even harder. “Fuck, you’re so tight. I don’t think I’m gonna be able to last long” I moan at his words, taking it as a compliment. His hand squeezes around my neck again, making me feel light headed from the blood being cut off. However, it only adds to the feeling of his hips circling into mine.

“Harder, Mitch. Harder, please” I don’t know why I’m even asking for it, his hips are already snapping against mine roughly. However, he listens to my pleas and pulls his dick out, only to slam back inside of me harshly. He repeats this over and over until I’m practically screaming his name. Nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin and our moans fill the dark, quiet room.

His rough thrusting causes him to hit every perfect spot, making me to dig my nails into his back, sliding them down until I’m sure there are red marks left behind. My breasts bounce each time he pushes inside me, my walls clench around him making it harder for him to continue at his pace. However, I can’t help it. His lips attach to the tip of my chest, sucking purple marks into my skin to cover up his sounds of pleasure. He lets a grunt or moan out every once in a while but I can tell he’s trying to be quiet. Every little noise he makes pushes me closer and closer to my second orgasm of the night.

His grip on my neck tightens and his thrusts become sloppy, I can tell he’s almost there with me. “Come inside me. I want you to fill me up” I pant, rolling my hips along with his. He moans at my words, trying his best to keep up the pace. “You’re gonna come with me” he demands, taking his hand of my neck and trailing down my body to rub harsh circles on my clit with his thumb. My hands find his hair and I pull roughly at his roots, tightening my legs around his waist. I look down between our body’s to where he disappears inside of me, causing my legs to spasm and jolt with each thrust.

“I’m gonna come! I can’t hold it any longer” I whimper, clinging onto him for dear life. My pussy clamps down on his cock and he starts twitching inside me. “All good, baby. I’m right there with you” he pants, sliding out of me to thrust harshly in one more time. With his thumb pressing down on my bundle of nerves, and feeling his wet cock pulsating and twitching finally brings me to my release.

I scream and whimper as I shake uncontrollably, my juices leak around his cock, down my butt cheeks and onto the couch. My vision is nothing but black spots as my head spins. Mitch thrusts one last time before he comes to a stop, his cock twitches more violently, coating my walls with his release.

Sweat covers both our body’s, our heat radiating off of us and into the cold room. Mitch rests his head on my chest, while I stroke his wavy locks. My legs still twitch and my stomach still has that tight feeling but I can feel it slowly going away. I close my eyes and listen to our unsteady, heavy breaths as we come down from our highs.

Mitch presses a kiss to my chest where his head was resting, before he sits back up. He leans down to the suit case full of medical supplies and grabs out a cloth. He gently rubs my sore thighs while he cleans our mixed liquids off me and the couch. “Thank you” I whisper, feeling exhaustion take over my body.

Mitch squeezes down beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist as I burry my face in his chest. I place my hands in between us as gently trace all the scars I can. He shudders and tightens his grip on me, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I feel his lips curl up into a smile before he breaks the comfortable silence.

“So, what was that dirty talk you were doing? That’s certainly not the innocent Y/n I know” he smirks, a deep shade of red quickly covers my cheeks. I punch his chest playfully and quickly press a kiss to where I hit. He chuckles and so do I. “We should do this again some time” he suggests.

I prop myself up so I can look him in the eye, smirking happily. “Definitely” I whisper, pressing my lips to his once I see that beautiful lopsided smile of his. He gently nibbles on my bottom lip and I grant him access, parting my lips and letting his tongue slip in. This kiss is gentle and filled with love, not rough like the other kisses we’ve shared.

Mitch was the first to pull away, a worried look washing over his features and a groan leaves past his lips. I place a soft hand on his cheek, feeling his stubble scratch at my skin. My eyebrows furrow in confusion as I watch the Assassin. “Your dad is gonna kill me” he states, I can already see his brain working for explanations or excuses as to why he fucked his bosses daughter.

“He’s not going to know” I stroke gentle patterns on his cheek with my thumb, convincing him that everything will be okay. And if not, everything will be okay for this moment. However, it doesn’t work, he’s too smart for that. “He’ll know” Mitch confirms, taking my hand off his cheek and holding it in his.

“Yeah you’re right” I agree. My father has many great skills and it’s 100% positive that he will be able to sense something between us when we get back home. A smile covers my lips, too giddy and tired to think of all the negative things right now. “Well, might as well make the most of it now then” I suggest, slipping my tongue into Mitch’s mouth and kissing him passionately.

While I could tell he was getting into the kiss, he pushed me off him softly.

“Tomorrow. You need to sleep” he raises his brows as he says this, seeing how droopy my eyes are. Well, I did  have two orgasms tonight so it’s probably best to get some rest. I smile softly and press a quick peck to his lips.

“Why are you so good to me?” I quote what he said earlier in the night. He shakes his head and hold me back in his arms like he did a few moments ago. I wrap my hands around his back and rub small patterns, stoping myself when I feel all the nail marks I’ve left on his skin. I keep my mouth shut for the moment, knowing that it’s probably payback for the purple marks on my breasts, and we will talk about it in the morning. But right now it’s sleep time.

A few minutes later when I “fell asleep” I hear Mitch start whispering something as he strokes the hair from my face. “I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s wrong” - I keep my eyes closed and even out my breathing so it appears that I’m asleep - “but I think I’ve fallen in love with you” he confesses. I know that his next words are true and it’s probably because of what happened to Katrina.

“And that scares the hell out of me”

[roseringleader13]

Last Night’s Waking Fear

Author: Roseringleader13 Pairing: Reader x Dylan O’Brien (but can be read as any of his characters really) Word count: 1,960 Warning: brain tumor, future death, depression, night terrors, fatal illness A/N: So I would like to make it clear that this is written from a first person point of view for a reason, and there aren’t any character defining attributes regarding the reader for a reason as well. I know this can be a very touchy subject for some people, because this is a personal thing I am dealing with in my own life. Any feedback regarding the fic is welcomed. Tags: @golddaggers @mf-despair-queen @skeletonangel1998

It was these nights that scares me the most.

The ones where I can't sleep but I'm drenched in sweat and physically exhausted as if I had been fighting. How my throat is raw and dry as if I had been screaming my lungs out to the point of them giving up. My hands feel clammy, sore, and stiff from being clenched around the blankets or your wrist so tightly I'm surprised you didn't wake up.

That sensation I was used to by now given all the night terrors I have been having as of late if I do actually sleep. Images of you dying, walking out on me, or other people I love doing the same. But it's mainly you, seeing as you're the one person in my life that I couldn't stand to lose, now more than ever before.

What is a new feeling for me that I’m not used to yet is my head throbbed with a new found purpose, reminding me of the dread and future anguish. Reminding me…

I am going to die.

I still haven't found a way to tell you. That manila folder laying hidden away under the desk in the corner of our two bedroom house. A folder that held paperwork filled with doctor gibberish and medical terms that would give a healthy person a headache. But there were very specific words in those documents that I know will stick out to you as bright as a ray of light that was peaking out of the clouds during a rainstorm.

Brain tumor, inoperable, too developed, reached near the center of the brain, too dangerous to risk surgery.

Those would stick out to you because it translated to one final word. A word I know you wouldn't admit because I meant that you would lose me.

Death.

My birth mother had a brain tumor, you know. At the age of 24 and I was only 6. They caught it early enough and said she was lucky. Normally these kinds of tumors develop in teenagers and by the time it's caught, it's too late to operate.

But I guess I'm one of those unlucky cases. Only 21 years old but this tumor has been growing since I was 16, or at least doctors think that's how long it's been. My family never had the money to get me looked at but your miracle insurance allowed me to talk to a doctor and tell me I was going to die because we waited too long.

So it's these nights that scare me.

Laying here, your arm wrapped tightly around my growing waist-

I used to be so skinny and fit, but ever since this tumor had begun to grow, I suddenly gained 30 to 40 pounds in just a couple months. Ridiculous isn't it?

I can still feel your heartbeat faintly through your rough fingertips, developed from years of hard work, where they lay over my heart. Each little thump in them reminding me you were alive right behind me and sound asleep, but also that our heartbeats were in sync the way they say soulmates’ are.

Instead of twitching and whimpering like you used to from the nightmares that would plague you before you met me, they were still and calm like those terrors never existed. You always did say how I was able to make it all go away which a simple smile or from you holding me as you slept. More times than not I would hear you whisper that I was your saving grace for your dreams before we, you, would fall asleep. I couldn't tell you how many times I've thought the same thing about you. That you were my saving grace and made my entire life worth fighting for and living for.

The warmth that came from your kitten claw hands made me think of a thick fuzzy blanket, nestling me into comfort during a cold winter night. During the summer I would playfully complain because we woke up a sweaty mess; but now I try to cherish each moment because I don't know how long until I will never feel it again.

Your breath fans against the back of my neck and shoulder blades, fooling me due to the contrast of your body heat. It never fails to make goosebumps flutter against my skin. Ticklish and rough since it always mixed with your snoring. Like a freight train because of how much it shook the bed but again. Just another painful and bliss filled piece of you that I love and will miss.

I can feel the patch of coarse hair that laid between your pecs as it tickled my own back. You didn't have hair that would spread across your entire chest and stomach like most men had, but that bundle of curls were uniquely you and I always love running my fingers through it any chance I get. Be it when we cuddle, shower, kiss, make love- if it's visible, I play with it. And while you don't verbally admit it, I know you like it based on the way your eyes would flutter closed and you'd tilt your head back, a soft groan leaving your lips at the sensation.

Hairy legs are tangled with my own, your looming height over my own small frame being shown since my toes barely reached your mid-calf.

But your legs aren't nearly as thick with hair as your stomach. That happy trail you have make so many women; and possibly men, swoon with desire. Just a patch of thick, rough, curly hair that disappeared deep into whatever you were wearing. I am the only one that knows what lies at the end of It, but it was always amusing to see the curious and hopeful gazes of others as they imagined what was between those strong thighs of yours.

But I'm getting off track and a tiny little mumble in your sleep of my name is what makes me remember my original thoughts.

Speaking of talking in your sleep.

You used to mumble in your sleep. Begging me to not leave you. How happy you are. How much you love me. That you couldn't wait to have a life with me. A family. And I always thought the same thing and more. I would imagine our children running around this old house, laughing and smiling as they played with their father. A man I adore and cherish more than anything in this world. Even my own life.

But I am going to ruin all of that, aren't I?

I hate these nights.

The nights I stare at your face in the dark when my back isn't to you, memorizing every inch of you I can before the tumor will begin to take away my memories more than it already does.

I want to remember the way your nose is slightly turned upward; but with how you sometimes bury your face in your pillow I can't help but giggle because you look like a little pig. Or how your moles littered your left cheek in a perfect pattern that reminds me of Orion’s Belt, my favorite constellation.

You always teased me for noticing that.

I even memorize those faint scars of yours. The one from your accident. You hate them but it's another thing. Another little thing that reminds me you're alive and okay...unlike me.

They barely show. Hidden away by the rough patches of dark hair that was growing on your jawline. No one can really see the light lines along your right jawbone due to the scruff. Same way no one can see that little mark right by your right temple because of your hair hiding it a lot. But a lot of people do see that scar on your nostril. The one that is probably the most known one.

But again. I love each one.

It's these nights I hate because as I lay here. Heart pounding, head throbbing, skin sweaty and mind racing. All I think about is the pain I'm going to bring to you when you do find out.

I know you so well.

You're going to drag me to doctor after doctor. Pleading to any and all gods and goddesses and religions to find some way. Something. Anything. To save me. So you don't lose me and lose the one person who you love so much you say they put the very air in your lungs. You're going to scream and fight every single inch whenever you hear that I can't be saved. I can't have surgery. It'll just kill me faster.

You're going to stare at that folder every night, pushing off everything else in your life in an attempt to see if somehow the words will magically change on the page and I won't...die.

You'll begin to lose sleep, doing what I'm doing now. Memorizing me. So when I'm gone, you'll never have to sit in the dark and wonder.

What color were my eyes? - they weren't a honey-whiskey that could melt even the coldest of hearts, I can tell you that.

Did I have any scars the way you did? - I always said I would take yours for you if it made you happy, no matter how much I love them.

My hair color? What was it again? - Nothing compares to that deep, dark chocolate that lays on your head, more often than not being styled in some fashion.

It's tiny questions like that you'll be trying to avoid in the years to come once I'm gone as you watch me, watching you. Both of us hating what is happening.

You'll whispered how much you love me every second, more than you already do; but know that I've been doing this every night since the tests results came back. I'll find you crying, angry at the world. Asking what did I do to deserve this. Don't worry, I've asked it myself so much I have begun to wonder if my voice is getting annoying to anything or anyone that might be listening. You'll even go as far as to bargain at times, that my life was too precious so they should take you instead. If only you know how much I'll want to smack you for hearing you say that.

There are so many things that will happen the moment you get your hands on that little folder that will turn your entire world upside down as if it was never important to begin with.

So, I'll do everything I can to protect you from that for as long as possible. Even as this tumor eats away at my very life, every second of our existence. I'll do anything to protect you until I finally die. That way you have nothing but happy memories to cherish rather than memories filled with “What if”s or “I could have done”s.

I only want to see you smiling until the last breath leaves my lips.

The reason why just echoes in my heart, mind, body and soul as I watch you groan in your sleep and began to open your eyes. Those little cute lips turning into a soft smile. I can feel your arm tighten around me and you press a soft kiss to my skin, lazily asking me why I'm still awake, unaware of the fear that eats at my conscience. Only for you to hum and whisper you love me and I need to sleep before those snores begin to fill the room once more.

“I love you too.”

That's why I refuse to tell you and I'm going to protect you until I die.

Because I love you is why I’m terrified and hate nights like this.

[smellslikemultifandomimagines]

Do you still take Smut night requests? ❤️ I would like to Request a smut with Mitch Rapp, were he comes home from a mission pretty frustrated and takes it out on the Reader. (so like rough sex if possible cause I know I'm not the only dirty one here 0_0) Your Blog is amazing!

also:

pairing: mitch rapp x fem!reader

warnings: smut → dom!mitch + sub!reader, use of sex toys (handcuffs, vibrator)

word count: 952

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

requests are now closed

smut night masterlist

From the second mitch came home from a mission, you knew he was frustrated. He was pissed off even. He locked himself in his office, taking phone calls from his boss to figure out what to do next. From what you gathered, the bad guy got away, leaving Mitch with no choice but to return home to see if they can still track the guy's movements.

Every 20 minutes or so, you'd knock on the door and ask if he needed anything.

"for the last time, [y/n], I don't need anything," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"are you sure you're alright? Maybe you should take a break," you suggest, biting your lip nervously.

"No, can't you see I'm a little frustrated? So unless you can find this guy instead of coming in here every 5 minutes, that'll be great."

"mitch, please take a break. You just got home," you argue back, not taking his attitude.

"No, you know what, I have a better idea. How about you come here, and you're gonna make it up to me because I'm in a mood and I need this. I'm gonna put you back in your place where you need to be." Mitch's voice is so low, both from frustration and lust. "So come here, baby."

You shake your head, folding your arms over your chest.

"Baby girl, give me your hand. If you don't, I'll use your hair."

Still, you refuse. At this point, you almost want to see how long it'll take for him to be entirely fed up with you.

"Fine. Is this the way it's gonna be, baby?" He growls, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you to the bedroom.

"You're such a fucking brat," Mitch spits, tightening his grip.

"Strip." He instructs, his pupils growing larger from how dominating he is over you.

Once again, you don't listen to him. Instead, you stand with your arms folded over your chest again. Mitch rolls his eyes, storming over to you and rips your shirt off. Your jaw falls open in shock, completely not expecting him to do that. He pushes you down on the bed, using his muscly and strong body to pin you down.

"There's only two words I want to hear: 'yes daddy' or our safe word."

"Or what?" You challenge, arching an eyebrow.

"Fine. If that's the way you're gonna behave," Mitch rolls his eyes, roughly getting off you to go into the nightstand. He takes out a pair of cuffs.

"Give me your hands," Mitch demands. You keep your hands still by your side, a gasp leaving your lips as he yanks them towards him before cuffing them to the bed. He reaches into the nightstand again and grabs out another pair of cuffs that were designed to restrain your legs. You silently gulp, watching with desired eyes as strips your pants and panties off before strapping your legs into the cuffs.

"God, no wonder you were so whiney when I got home. Your pussy is dripping," he groans, running a finger up your folds.

"I know exactly what I'm gonna do to you."

your eyes watch him hungrily as he picks up the vibrator wand. Mitch slides a finger into your pussy, a smirk forming on your face as you clench around it.

"Wipe that smirk off your face." He demands and inserts another finger before wriggling them in a 'come hither' motion. His fingers are pressing into your g-spot, his eyes focused so hard on you as he holds the wand so close to your clit, but making sure it wasn't touching you.

"You're such a desperate little slut, aren't you?"

You nod and whine, biting your lip to prevent any moans from escaping. Mitch presses the vibrator on your clit, almost immediately causes you to let out a loud cry.

"Well, that's too bad. Daddy has to teach you a lesson." You whine in response, feeling yourself become closer and closer to the brink of orgasm.

"Oh, what is it? What is it baby girl?" He mocks your pines. "Aw, are you gonna cum?"

“yes daddy,” you moan.

"Aw, well, you can't come without daddy's permission, now can you?" He chuckles darkly, thrusting his fingers faster into you. You moan loudly, writhing on the bed in an attempt to move away from him. But with the restraints locking you into place, it was no use. Your orgasm is building and building, your walls clenching so hard around him; he chuckles at you again.

"Aw, you wanna cum for daddy?"

You nod and moan a high-pitched "yes, daddy!"

"Aw, do you? Okay, baby girl, you can. Daddy will let you come in 5, 4, that's it, princess." he chuckles. "3, 2, 1." Mitch retracts his hand.

"Aw, what? You can cum, baby."

"I can't," you cry.

"You can't? Well, Daddy gave you permission. Aw, you poor little baby." He fakes sympathy as he shoves his fingers into you again. This time, he thrusts them harder and faster, your moans becoming louder and louder while your body is getting harder to control. His other hand turns the vibrations up; a yelp escapes your lips.

"Look at you just fighting those restraints. You're not going anywhere, you desperate little slut."

" Daddy, I need to come."

"alright. Cum."

Mitch almost immediately retracts his hand again, along with the vibrator. Your pussy throbs as you cum; a dissatisfied whine leaves your lips as you writhe in place. He leans down, lapping his tongue over your juices while wrapping his arms around your hips to hold you in place.

"Now, baby, I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll be screaming."

[statticscribbles]

Shoot

Summary: Mitch Rapp/Reader, they’re training together and go on a mission, they have a close call and save each other.

It hadn’t taken you long during training to develop a rivalry with Mitch Rapp, you knew it was dangerous, not because he was actual competition but because working with him. Especially after the rest of the team caught on to the rivalry you two had, which led to both of you being partnered together. All of that had accumulated into your rivalry becoming a one sides crush on your end. What had been glares of annoyance and aggravation when Mitch beat your time at the shooting range or a sprint time had morphed into watching his back muscles flex and tense as he practiced shooting.

They’ve partnered Mitch and you together for hand to hand combat, and you don’t mind having to get close to him, you don’t mind trying to dodge his kicks and trying to smack him back. He ends up pinning you at least four times. 

You’re torn between snapping and growling at him when he pins you face inches from yours and smirk grows.

“Will you get the fuck off of me.” You hiss and Mitch just presses his arm over your stomach, one of his legs parallel to your thigh.

“Not really feeling it.” He laughs a little as you try to roll from under him, all it does is let his thigh fall between your legs and he smirks.

“Get off.” You snap and he leans closer grin growing.

“Not until you do.” You face flushes and his grin changes back into a smirk.

“I’ve seen how you stare at me, how your comments have lost their edge, you don’t hate me, you like me.”

“Do you feel the same?” You decide to just get his rejection over with, instead his hand trails up your thigh and his lips brush against your ear.

“Would I be doing this after hours with you if I didn’t?”

“Y/N! You and Mitch are together.”

“Uh, yeah?” You nod to the mission file they’d given you, you’re not exactly thrilled to have to work with him on your first official mission, but you’re getting sick of just training so you reason anything will be better than more training sessions. You and Mitch hadn't bothered with calling what you were a relationship, you knew how his last one ended and you weren’t keen to make him worry in that way.

You’re shifting down the hallway, trying your best to keep quiet as Mitch follows keeping an eye on you. “Y/N you need to be..” Mitch doesn’t finish, you jump back against the wall as a bullet whizzes past.

“I thought there wasn’t supposed be anyone with big weapons in here!”

“A gun isn’t big!” Mitch shouts back and you duck as someone jumps down from the rafters.

“It’s a rifle!”

“How can you tell you can’t even see the guy!” Mitch shouts back and you jog over to where he is, keeping pressure on your side.

“You got shot.” He hisses and you nod, you can already feel the shock setting in.

”Well if you didn't let that guy with the rifle get that close..” Mitch glares at you, fingers trying to pull the fabric from around the wound on your side

“Says the one who let themselves get knifed.”

“I only did that because you’d gotten shot!”

“It just grazed me, see I’m fine.” He points to the almost carpet burn like mark on his shoulder, you glare and then hiss in pain when he dumps an entire bottle of antiseptic over the gash.

“That’s too much!”

“We don’t know where that knife has been!” You can’t help but laugh at Mitch’s concern and before you can rebuttal his comment he leans over and kisses you.

Support My Writing?

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

I wake up and check your account everyday looking for an update of far from L.A lmao. I hate telling writers that because I never want to feel like I’m pressuring them but I just want you to know that I’m excited for it! It’s hands down the best Dylan fanfic I’ve ever read. (Also on that note, if you know any other good ones let me know) <3

OOOOOOHHHHHHH my GAH!

I'm so freakin' happy to know that you're enjoying the fic! I'm also sorry that I know it's been taking me a while to update. I didn't intend on things becoming what they are when I started and I was on vacation when I was working on the early chapters. Now I'm back to work and BUSSSSYYYY, so it is a little harder to find the time. I'm also invested in making sure I don't eff up their journey now that there seem to be some invested readers.

The best Dylan fanfic you've ever read... is WILD. I'm honoured you would think so. Honestly. That's awesome and kind of unbelievable?

I promise, I'm going to try to find some time soon to give Mia and Dylan the rest of their story <3

As far as recs go, I'm TERRIBLE. When I was ravenously reading everything I could find early on, I wasn't using this blog and have lost most of the ones I liked. Though, there seemed to be a significant lack of fics that weren't reader insert (I liked some of those, but I often prefer there to be a third-person sort of style?). It's hard to explain.

I did read one that I think would be pretty easy to find. It's LONG and the author seemed to use it as a vehicle to almost shame him about smoking, which I thought was a funny premise. It's called Summer Fling by @were-cheetah-stiles.

If you like reader insert or x reader fics, @dobrienwrites comes up with some pretty cute things that are TOTALLY worth checking out. I just read a Mitch Rapp x Reader cute lil diddy this morning, actually.

One of the first things I found that I read MANY times was on AO3 about him being super cute and supportive to a friend during a hard break up and they end up getting down. It's GOOD and sweet. Dylan seemed really in character. I liked it. It's called "Drunk on You". I don't know the author because the fic has been abandoned. VERY sad.

Of course, there are more that I've liked, but I wouldn't even know the name of them at this point... APOLOGIESSS <3

- Trashy xoxo

Anon is graciously complimenting 'Far Away From L.A.'