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kthynes · 3 years

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ahuvati

Here’s a little something...

ze pairing: ari levinson x wife-!-reader

request: the reader is married to Ari Levinson and they have kids. When its the kids bedtime, they ask dad how he met mom

requested by: @maximeevansblog

word count: 1,455

warnings: None. Fluffy fluff. Just pure, sweet, wholesome family lovin’

a/n: so I did some research and I picked up on the term ahuvati which endearingly means (any Hebrew speakers correct me if I’m wrong) my beloved. Context wise, I want to make sure it’s being used in the right sense, so if it’s not please feel obligated to shout at me - my inbox is open.

I’m also constantly learning, evaluating and exercising mindfulness as much as possible and so with a small disclaimer I do want to preface that this story will not mention anything about religion or any political affiliations. This lil nugget is meant to exemplify a familial interaction that nurtures only the ideas of love. Okay? Okay.

so nonetheless, I hope you guys do enjoy this, leave whatever feedback you like - I’m accepting of all.

ALSO as I’m working on two other CE requests that I have pending in the cue and with those I am still open for some more requests, unless I say otherwise. So get creative if you wish and request away.

There is solace in the life you live now. It is fulfilling, retrospective, quiet and beautifully synchronized with all the imaginative thoughts of finally having that fairy tale kind of drift. This is all you. Him, the three children you have made together with tender, love, and care. The house that is now your forever home, where the walls are made of love and there are sweet memories that chalet you in to forget about the long-forgone days of pain and anguish. Everything came together in the most life altering way and for that, you are at peace and so is he.

“Alright c’mon, bedtime Ira.” You catch a hold of your fussy four-year-old who fails to get past you after an hour of playing cat and mouse.

“No mama, I want ice cream!” He squeals.

“We can have ice cream tomorrow.” You sternly add while propping the youngest on your hip. Your handsome little cherub deviously juts his bottom lip out in response, his cerulean blue eyes were as big as saucers, his tiny little hands grab a hold of your face to con you like always. “Don’t give me that look mister!”

He giggles in the crook of your neck as you both make your way up into the master bedroom where the other children and your husband Ari were all huddled around on the bed, sharing secrets, and having an unshakeable bond.

“Any room for us?” You ask and Ari looks up at you in a way that renders you breathless every time. Love does not come impartially for this man; it is unyielding and gracious. You take him in just as much as he takes you in and that is the vow of love. No one is freed from it and there is plenty to go around, there is a sense of promise and hospitability that comes with being together. You and Ari both value this as a sign of redemption, reconciliation and good karma that is meant to be passed down.

“Of course.” Ari turns to Stella and David, nudging them a little. “Let’s make room for mama and Ira.”

“Okay!” Both kids chirp as they scoot over on the large California king, that squeaks and throttles with every aggression of their overly exaggerated and excited movements. You make your way over to put Ira down first who immediately crawls into his fathers’ lap, leaving you to lay upwards next to David, the oldest, who snuggles closer to you for comfort. Your free hand pushes his long hair back that he wants to stubbornly grow out, just like papa, and kiss him lightly on his forehead, inhaling him was part of your motherly instinct.

“So, what story shall we read tonight?” You murmur while lulling your head towards Ari whose gaze never turns away from you. His eyes carefully scan the contours of your face some more, studying every crease, concern, and habit that you would form while in his wake. This time, without missing a beat, he notices you are absently chewing on the inside of your cheek, growing heavy lidded after spending a long day on your feet. So, he makes it up to you and shyly recalls something that has not been brought up before, not like this.

“Well, Stella and David want to know our story.” He relieves, poignantly grabbing your attention and allowing your heart flutter like the wings of an alpine hummingbird. The story of you and him, the coming together of ‘us’, is a saudade and saccharine recollection that you have no objections sharing with the kids. They deserve to know the love that their parents have for one another, the kind that they each deserve to have, expect, and cherish.

“Oh yeah?” Your voice goes up a dramatic pitch and this causes each child to giggle into the palm of their hands. Your eyes suddenly widen at the cheeky little monkey that titters in his papa’s lap, egging you on sight. “And what about you sir?”

You reach over to tickle the unassuming toddler who could not decipher much of the conversation but played along as well. There is a fresh slew of laughter, each echoing in different intervals and overlapping your inquisitive jabs. “Do you wanna know as well big man?”

Ira nods cutely, habitually suckling on his thumb to which Ari quietly notices and pushes his hand away from his mouth. While shaking his head, Ari whispers his afflictions and then presses a gentle, thank you kiss on the back of Ira’s hand, understandably being the best father and man, you could have ever imagined him to be. They share a small, seldom moment before our daughter pipes up next to him, eager with her own question but also respectful of when to interject.

“Please tell us papa! How did you meet mama?” Stella bounces up and down while giving him a gap tooth smile. She is silly but sensible like her mama, always asking the right questions, always so polite. She looks exactly like you, a mirror reflection. Not a single hair on her head is a different color and her smile just beautifully emulates like yours. They say that Stella is a Xerox copy of your melancholy and Ari thanks the heavens above for giving him a part of you like this.

Ari smiles at her that bring out the crows’ feet around his eyes, the attention he gives each child is unique and undivided. He peers down at her while the length of his middle finger gently brushes away the wisps of hair that messily frames her round face.

“What do say Y/N, should I tell them?” Ari panders a bit and upon hearing this, the kids get pushy, each pleading with their father to say something, looking to you for the pinning green light. You force a small, lighthearted laugh because you could have easily done the honors of singing your shared love song. But instead, you choose not to because Ari is a phenomenal storyteller, his mind is as beautiful as his unfettered soul, and so you let him sound his own horn for his children to harmonize and awe over.

“By all means.” You finally let up and the kids all chorus their cheers of ‘yays’ and ‘hoorays’. Ari is grinning like a madman and you shoot him a well ordained look that he has memorized all so well.

“I met your mama a long, long time ago and when I first saw her, I was so mesmerized by her beauty and grace.” Ari starts, addressing each of his children who are all smiling ear to ear, looking at you and then at their unwavering papa with their own wonderment that is so pure, it makes you tear up a little.

“Where did you see her papa?”

“That is a good question, Stella.” Ari taps her nose. “I saw her at this big and beautiful flower garden.”

He offers them a fraction of the truth because in hindsight, he could not tell his kids (not yet at least), that he met you while fighting a gruesome crusade in the heat of Sudan. He wanted to keep the story light and wholesome, ease into the metaphor of a prince meeting his princess. Something his children could keep in their hearts for the time being.

“By herself?” She quips.

Ari and you share a defeated laugh. “Yes, by herself.”

“Did you talk to her when you first saw her papa?” David, your sweet, charming seven-year-old asks while leaned up against you. Ari nods respectfully to his son who is wise beyond his years and always took his mother’s side.

“I did. I went up to her and I said ahuvati.”

“What even does that mean papa!” Stella scrunches up her face with confusion. Ari laughs under his breath and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling because you knew the ethereal exactness all too well. Hearing it once more brought all the sweetness back into your life again.

“It means my beloved.” Ari says this to you as a vow and a constant reminder.

“Wow!” Stella drawls and gasps, David smiles at this while humming himself to sleep. Ira wants Ari to rock him and as it gets torturously late, you decide to lazily read one more story before each eye shuts, leaving you and Ari to lie awake for some time.

In your shared room, there is a giant French door window with the curtains drawn back. The two of you silently watch the night sky turn from a beautiful shade of indigo to pitch black abyss, taking away the landscape of the vast French countryside and leaving you to be.

“Thank you.” Ari states while coming out of his own train of thought.

“For?”

“For always being my ahuvati.”

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x wife #chris evans short #chris evans

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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Hungry Like The Wolf | soft!dark!Ari Levinson x reader

summary: when you need ari’s help for a secret mission with the CIA, he expects gratitude from you— and he wants a lot more than just a thank you card.

word count: nearly 6.5k

warnings: smut (dub con/coercion/sex as bartering tool), oral sex (f receiving) and vaginal sex, overstimulation, possessiveness/very very slight yandere vibes?, some violence and gun use, mentions of human trafficking/warfare, religious discussions and traditions but not particularly orthodox ones, vague discussions of sexism and misogyny with implied religious background, overall just lots of global politics and all that fun stuff

(a/n: I went ahead and wrote the hebrew and arabic in english lettering because tumblr doesn’t support right to left text so just a heads up. my arabic is very weak so I apologize if there are any errors.)

Taking a deep breath, you ran through your pitch in your head again. Sure, you’d had plenty of time to go over it on the plane, but one last recitation couldn’t hurt, right? Unable to stall any longer, you turned the knob and entered Ari Levinson’s office.

You’d heard he was good-looking but his appearance still surprised you; his long hair and thick beard made him look like he’d fit in with a rock band better than an intelligence agency, and his half-buttoned shirt put his Star of David necklace and muscled, hairy chest on display.

He must have caught your gaze trailing down because he smirked at you, making your cheeks feel a bit warm.

“Mr. Levinson,” you greeted as you looked up to his face again.

He greeted you as ‘Ms.’ instead of ‘Agent,’ but you let it slide since you were about to ask him for quite the favor. When he motioned for you to take a seat across from him, you did so with a nod and a quick smoothing of your skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” he prompted.

This was the easy part; this was the part you’d rehearsed a thousand times. “There is a group of trafficked women and girls who have been rescued from all over— Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Kuwait— and gathered in Riyadh. We are working on a plan to move them to Cyprus and, eventually, Greece where they will be accepted into a camp there. Maybe they’ll end up in the States at some point, if we can swing it, but… Cyprus is step one.”

Ari nodded, listening to your story with more patience than anyone else had so far.

“As you can imagine, it would be a lot easier to move through Jordan and Israel and use your ports, rather than go around through Egypt or Syria…” He stared at you expectantly as you trailed off, and you cleared your throat before finishing: "The CIA would greatly appreciate Mossad's cooperation in the movement of these refugees."

"How much would they appreciate it?"

You paused, unsure what he meant. "Um, quite a lot, I'm sure…"

"I just mean that we have missions the CIA could be a useful assist for, too,” he clarified, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on his lap. “You guys have a lot more resources than we do. If we help you out, is this going to be an allyship we can rely on?"

You swallowed dryly, pondering if there was a way to get out of this before you sighed and slumped down in your chair, leaning a little closer to him. "Alright, I have to be honest with you: it's not really the CIA that's asking for your help."

"Then who is?"

"Me. Just me. I'm the only one who believes in this mission; I'm the only one fighting for these people. The CIA won't help you because they won't even help me and I work for them."

He slumped his shoulders a little bit. "Then I'm not sure if I can afford to say yes to you."

"Please," you implored, "I know I can't offer you as much as they can, but I'll do whatever I can to make this work. Please," you repeated as you laid your hand over his, noticing the way his expression shifted a bit, "help me."

"I've been the one person fighting for a mission before," he remembered, voice a little softer. "I know how hard it is to go it alone."

You smiled gently at him.

"And, I know how far I would've gone to get my people to safety."

His hand flipped around suddenly and grabbed yours tightly, pulling you closer as you gasped.

"How far will you go?"

You shivered, the darkness in his eyes burning right through you even when you tried to look away. "Mr. Levinson, I—"

"Call me Ari," he instructed gruffly, grip tightening around your wrist until you yelped softly.

"Ari," you corrected, "I have money—"

"Don't want it."

"I can offer you my assistance in—"

"Don't need it."

"Tell me what you need,” you requested softly.

"I need to know you're gonna show me this 'great appreciation' you promised,” he answered quickly. “I need to know that if I take care of you, then you'll take care of me."

You gulped but nodded. "O-of course…"

"Good."

He released you from his grip and stood up, smiling at you like nothing had even happened.

"Pleasure doing business with you, madam."

You stood up and left his office in a haze, unsure if what had just happened was a dream or reality. But, sure enough, he showed up the next day where you’d told him to meet you, and brought some money and fake passports that you desperately needed. Frankly, just having a man around was going to make things smoother for you, even if it was a white man who didn’t exactly blend in by any stretch of the imagination. Seeing him again the next day only reminded you how big he was, tall but moreso heavy with muscle; he looked pretty cramped in his tiny coach seat on the plane to Dubai (your connecting stop where you’d spend the night before flying out to Riyadh).

“Bloody mary, please,” he requested from the stewardess with a gentle nod, turning to you.

“Uh, just water, thanks,” you ordered quickly with a tilted smile. You had brought a book to read, but Ari insisted on barraging you with personal questions about your job, your personal life, your favorite things— he seemed fascinated by the most mundane things, and disinterested in giving his own backstory.

Of course you considered that it wasn’t a great idea to tell him so much about yourself, let him in your head and under your skin. But then again, you’d put your trust in him enough for the mission, so you ought to trust him completely, right?

So why did his stare send shivers up your spine?

There was room for you and Ari at a CIA safehouse outside Dubai; it wasn’t exactly luxurious or anything, but at least you weren’t going to have to share a room… or a bed.

Normally staying in a safehouse meant sharing common areas with a random assortment of other agents, but it being a Friday night in Dubai meant they were all out enjoying the local nightlife while you two stayed in. Hoping to review a game plan for the mission with him, you found Ari’s door open, peeking around to see him on his knees on the floor, a candle burning before him, and his hands raised to cover his eyes and face.

“Shema Yisrael,” he sung to himself below his breath, “Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad…”

He jumped a little when he uncovered and opened his eyes only to find you standing there. “Shabbat Shalom,” you greeted.

“Shabbat Shalom,” he nodded back.

“I’m sorry you’re forced to take your Shabbat alone,” you apologized, “and that there’s nobody other than me to appreciate your vocal chops.”

His cheeks tinged pink at that. “It’s all part of the sacrifices we make for our missions, eh?”

“Then I suppose you don’t mind that you’ll be doing plenty of work tomorrow,” you presumed.

“You probably realized by now that I’m not actually so traditional,” he chuckled, extinguishing the candle and standing up. “I work on the sabbath quite a lot.”

“I hear work is permitted if it is needed to save a life.”

He smiled, but he looked a little sad; maybe not sad, but tired. “With me, it always is.”

The silence was thick as you tried to reconcile that this was the same man that had grabbed and threatened you— was it a threat? You couldn’t even tell anymore. Apparently he wasn’t going to take whatever it was that he wanted until you’d finished the mission, and that should’ve made it easier to procrastinate your worry, but the extra time to ponder what it was actually going to be only brought further anxiety.

Of course, you had an idea of what he was going to ask of you, but the fact that nothing too untoward had happened in his office when you first met him was throwing you off. In that moment, you were just waiting for him to tell you to get on your knees and show him how bad you wanted these women rescued, but he didn’t. Wouldn’t have been the first time somebody tried to bribe you into sex; it would’ve been the first time, however, that you actually considered doing it.

Now, the anticipation just made it worse; you were working with him every day and he always acted normal, as if there wasn’t this looming threat of whatever favor he was going to ask from you in return.

Once you actually got to work the next day, it was easier not to think about that. You barely had any extra brainpower to think about anything except survival and extraction. Still, each time you looked at him only to find him already looking at you, your hands shook a little.

“You’ve been driving for 10 hours, you’re sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?” you offered, watching him blink a few times to clear his vision.

“Not worth getting arrested,” he frowned.

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“Not worth the risk of getting caught. And I don’t know about you, but if I get arrested here, I’ll probably be killed, too.”

You chewed your lip as you appreciated that it was probably worth avoiding as much trouble as possible. It’s not like the CIA was popular in these parts, either, and for good reason.

“What’s that up ahead?” he asked, leaning further forward against the steering wheel and squinting.

“Um,” you stalled as you unfolded the paper map in your lap, “I’m… not sure.”

“Looks like a barricade,” he announced, and it did; a gate with two guards and barbed wire on either side.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you reminded him as you frantically shuffled around the map, making sure you were where you thought you were and that there wasn’t a mark indicating a vehicle stop on the road.

“What do we do?” he asked, looking around as if he was considering veering off the path even though that would be equally dangerous.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you repeated, more anxiously.

“Well, there is,” he replied, his own agitation clearly increasing, “so we’ll have to go through it.”

“They’re going to pull us over.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

“And they will search the back of the truck.”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t. How well do you think they’re gonna take it when they see eighty-something women packed like sardines?”

You chuckled a little even though you were anything but amused. “Um, not good.”

As the men at the stop waved to signal your car to slow down, Ari sighed a little. "I'll ask once again: what do we do?"

"Act natural," you suggested quickly as you lifted the scarf draped around your head to cover your nose and mouth.

Ari slowed down to a stop, lowering the window to talk to the officer outside and putting on a fake English accent. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Identification please,” he requested sternly. Ari smiled as he grabbed his and your passports, handing them over through the window. It was a long, awkward moment as he flipped through the thick papers slowly, his partner leaning down to look through your window but never taking his hands off his gun. “What brings you out here?” the man finally asked.

“My wife and I operate a restaurant in Jordan, and we get most of our equipment here because the workmanship is better,” Ari explained. “Just passing through with our new stoves and oven hood.”

The officer glanced back over your truck, his expression mostly unreadable but overall not necessarily friendly-looking. “Could you step out of the vehicle please?”

“Hal hdha daruri?” you asked quickly; Is this necessary?

“Alsamt,” he replied in a hiss; Silence.

Ari looked around like he was thinking but nodded and reached for the handle to his door. You did the same, the second guard stepping out of your way so you could swing open the rusted metal and step out.

The men guided for you to circle the car with them, stopping at the back and staring at the metal sliding door that was latched shut.

Turning to address Ari, the guard’s face dropped completely as he got a bit more serious. “What am I going to find in your vehicle?”

“Kitchen supplies, like I said,” Ari insisted.

As the officer reached for the latch on the back of the truck, Ari shot you a wide-eyed look and you gave him a quick nod. He lunged at the second guard, wrestling him for his gun while you went after the first, who was much easier to take down with him being distracted by trying to unlock the back of the truck. Your CIA instincts told you to shoot him once you’d grabbed his weapon, but thankfully you knocked him out with the butt of it instead.

Loud pops of gunfire beside you made you fear the worst, but Ari had managed to push the gun toward the sky before pulling it out of the officer’s grasp, swinging it wildly until it made contact with his head and he fell to the ground.

Gun in hand and panting heavily, Ari looked back at you with a grin. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You almost got shot,” you reminded him.

“A little more than almost,” he corrected, showing you a gash where a bullet had grazed arm.

“Shit, Ari!” you yelped, running over to him and inspecting the wound. The way he looked down at you as you clutched him made you sort of regret it, though.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, but he made no effort to push you away.

“I… should check on the girls,” you decided, a little bit distracted but making your way back to the truck to roll up the metal back and examine the women inside, who looked scared at first but relaxed when they saw you.

“Kli shay' ealaa ma yaram,” you assured them that everything was fine, “nahn taqribaan 'iilaa al'urduni, wasawf nasil 'iilaa alsafinat allaylat.” We're almost to Jordan and will arrive at the ship tonight.

They relaxed a bit and smiled at you, a few muttered ‘shukraan jazilaan’s (meaning ‘thank you’) echoing from inside. You hated to shut the back and plunge them into darkness again, but they had assured you before that they would brave any conditions for a chance at freedom. You hoped they meant it.

“Please, let me drive, you’re injured,” you offered to Ari as he started to make his way toward the driver’s side door.

“It’s not even that bad, and we’ve had enough run-ins with the law today,” he dismissed.

“Then let me patch you up first, okay? Is that so terrible?”

He smiled a little. “No, I guess not.”

And that was how you ended up leaning on him in the passenger seat, supergluing his arm shut, trying not to think about how his bicep was probably bigger than your head.

“You’re a pretty good medic,” he observed, speaking quietly since you were so close.

“When you’re as clumsy as I am, you have to be,” you responded, sounding monotone due to focusing mostly on your work. “It shouldn’t scar too—”

You stopped when you looked up at him, because the way he was staring back down at you made you completely devoid of the ability to speak or even conjure words in your mind. You’d never seen him so close before and those piercing blue eyes made your head spin.

“What were you gonna say?” he asked softly,

“It… shouldn’t scar too bad,” you finished, “as long as you keep it clean and dry.”

“I generally aim to keep my entire body clean and dry,” Ari chuckled.

“Right, yeah, well— keep up the good work, then,” you stammered as you wrapped some gauze around his arm and rolled his sleeve back down over it.

“Let’s hit the road before we waste any more time,” he suggested, and with a nod you leaned back into your seat.

The radio blasting was the only thing keeping both of you awake as you drove through the dark. The border to Jordan was easy enough, and both of you sighed with relief as you crossed into Israel. It was by far the biggest blockade you’d seen so far, but of course, Ari got you in faster than you’d moved through anything else.

“Good to be home?” you asked when you saw Ari smiling as he looked around at the streetlights through the windshield.

“You could say that,” he answered. “Think we have time to stop for falafel before we get to the port?”

“Not unless you plan on buying for all your passengers,” you laughed, motioning toward the back. “If they have to wait until we reach the ship, so do we.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he relented. “Besides, probably better to be seen by as few people as possible. Even if we’re in friendly territory, it’s still a covert operation and all.”

“Wow, so you do have some desire to play by the rules,” you gasped in faux shock. He smiled and shrugged a bit.

“More like the rules and my desires occasionally overlap.”

It was past midnight when you pulled into the port, surrounded by ships so big that you couldn’t see the tops of them from inside the car. A cargo ship was waiting for you, along with some Navy men who helped you escort the women onto the vessel.

Since it wasn’t meant to accommodate this many people, the refugees occupied extra crew space while you and Ari were given sleeping bags in an unused office; you were so tired, though, that it actually looked enticing.

As soon as you’d set your pack down and shut the door, you heard a distant horn and felt the ship begin to move. You let out a long sigh as you leaned against the desk, watching Ari take a seat in the chair and start laughing exhaustedly.

“We did it,” you smiled, “we fucking did it.”

“We’ve still got a long boat ride ahead of us,” Ari mitigated, “but yeah… we should be in the clear, and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be in sunny Cyprus.”

You were so elated from the high of a successful mission that you forgot to worry about Ari’s vague request all those weeks ago; it was probably the first time you hadn’t thought about it since then, truthfully. That changed when his smile fell as he looked up at you, eyes darkening a little and scanning your body.

“You’re a great agent,” he nodded slowly, “and an incredible woman. You saved a lot of people tonight.”

You shifted nervously under the weight of his stare, but tried to hide your discomfort. “I… couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know,” he informed you coldly, standing up and approaching you. “I think I’ve gone above and beyond on my end of our deal.”

A pit formed in your stomach, growing with each step he took towards you. His eyes stayed trained on you except for when he glanced to the side to flip on the radio, American music suddenly piping through the speakers.

— discord and rhyme, I’m on the hunt, I’m after you…

You looked to the radio as well but his hand gently guided your jaw until you looked back at him; he was closer than ever, and you had to look up to meet his gaze, shivering as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip slowly.

“Are you good for your end of the deal?” he asked lowly.

And I’m hungry like the wolf…

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow ease the ache in your gut as you realized what was about to happen, before nodding meekly.

He smirked a little. “Good girl,” he praised, only a bit louder than a whisper, as his hand moved to cradle your face. “You want me, don’t you?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out how you were supposed to answer that. “I want to repay you, for all you’ve done for me.”

“No, not just that,” he disagreed, “you want me. I know you do. You don’t need to hide it, we’re alone…”

Hesitant but catching on to his desires, you nodded a little.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Ari,” you whispered.

It felt like forever waiting for him to kiss you as he leaned in slowly, eyes half-lidded and dark but never leaving you. As his lips brushed against yours, you finally let your eyes flutter shut and reciprocated his kiss. His hands felt especially big as one slipped behind your neck and the other rested on your waist; in fact, with the way you had to crane your head up to kiss him back, all of him felt big. Including the part you were pretty sure just bumped against the inside of your thigh.

His kiss was soft and patient but determined, slow but somehow still moving faster than you were ready for. You gingerly reached up and rested your hands on his shoulders; they were strong and warm beneath your touch, even through his shirt. You couldn’t think of the last time you’d been kissed like this, or held so tenderly like this, but then again, you were also sure that nobody had scared you like this in a long time, either. For a woman who always knew what to do in a dangerous situation, you couldn’t seem to get a read on Ari Levinson— mostly because you didn’t truly believe he was dangerous. But maybe you should.

When his hands reached up to start unbuttoning your blouse, you pushed him back a little.

"N-not here," you protested, "someone could hear, or walk in."

"There's nowhere else to go, and I'm not waiting 'til Cyprus. I need you now."

He kissed you again before you could respond, more forceful and desperate. You let him work open your shirt this time, his fingers dancing over your skin as he pulled it off your shoulders and tossed it aside. The feeling of him working your bra open made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but his tongue slipping into your mouth distracted you and before you knew it, it was gone as well. Your nipples hardened in the cold air— or maybe they’d been that way already, for whatever reason— but they reacted even stronger to his thick fingers gently pinching them as his palms cupped your breasts.

You gasped against his mouth a bit, your breathing getting heavier as he moved his hands down to your trousers. The idea of being naked when he was still fully-dressed scared you, but you didn’t have time to think about that anymore when he pulled back to drop to his knees, taking your pants and underwear to the floor with him.

He looked back up at you with a mischievous grin as you cautiously stepped out of them. After guiding you to sit up on the table, neither of you stopping to consider how rude it was to put your bare ass on somebody’s desk in a borrowed ship, he slowly parted your legs. As he kissed a trail inside your thigh, you felt your hands clutch the edge of the table tightly with anticipation. You felt so exposed with his face right there, to the point that your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and yet you couldn't manage to tear your eyes away from his as he leaned in to lick you teasingly with the tip of his tongue.

"Fuck," you shivered, feeling your inner walls quiver as he moved so delicately. You kept waiting for him to really get into it but he was determined to stay gentle and slow, circling your bud for one glorious moment before stopping again. "Ari, please," you whispered without even realizing you’d said it.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked darkly, his voice deep and gravelly as he ran his hands up the back of your legs.

Your begging whimper was so pathetic you could hardly believe you were hearing yourself. "More, please…"

He dove right in after that, suddenly latching onto your clit and letting his tongue explore every fold, every wrinkle, every sensitive spot with thick, wide licks. Your head fell back and your hands jumped to weave into his hair— that gorgeous fucking hair that had driven you halfway insane. It was soft between your fingers, and in this light you could see the touches of red, blonde, and maybe even grey scattered into the brunette. Better yet was the way he moaned against you when you accidentally pulled it, your hands clenching into fists against his scalp each time he sucked on your clit just right.

"Ari, baby, fuck," you groaned, feeling your hips shift a little as if to try to get more of yourself in his mouth.

Sensation was sparking under your skin faster than you knew what to do with it, faster than you had ever figured out on your own, and definitely faster than anybody else had ever managed. You felt your body shaking and couldn’t suppress it at all, every part of you (inside and out) quivering uncontrollably. It would’ve been embarrassing except that he seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, egging you on with his tight grip on your thighs, and his deep moans that reverberated over your body, and the way his brow furrowed like it almost pained him to see you like this. Your back arched so dramatically that he had to hold onto your hips tight to keep you in his mouth, but he managed to maintain what he'd been doing— in fact, he didn't stop even when you started to whine and cry, feet digging into his back as you tried not to explode from the overstimulation on your sensitive clit.

"S-stop, s'too much, can't take it," you pleaded, looking down at him.

He looked back up at you with dark, dilated eyes that said 'you're gonna take it.' His tongue lapped at you with renewed vigor, sending you tumbling over the edge again and again and again.

Tears were streaming down your face when he finally relented, standing up slowly and staring you down as he wiped his face with the back of his hand; your arousal had coated his mouth and most of his beard, too. You bit down on your lip to stop it from shaking as he slotted himself between your legs again, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and smiling as he watched your gaze trail down every inch of newly-exposed skin.

You knew he was in good shape, because it was always obvious, but you still shivered a little when you were greeted with chiseled muscles, dusty-blonde hair, a few stray freckles and scars, and last but not least, the gauze wrapping on his arm where you’d patched him up before. It was nice to see a piece of your handiwork on something so flawless, like how it must feel to design the frame that holds a Monet. Your mouth was even watering as you followed the trail of hair down to where it was interrupted by his jeans, which were misshapen with the unmistakable outline of his neglected cock. Either you could actually hear it throbbing, or that was just your heartbeat in your ears as he made a show of undoing his buckle and fly slowly.

A breath caught in your throat as he slid the jeans down and kicked them off with his boots, his cock bouncing up against the bottom of his abs once he’d freed it. You hoped to hide your intimidation, but you must have failed from the way he smirked and licked his lips as he stepped forward and pressed it against your stomach; you felt a little dizzy seeing the head of it reach past your bellybutton. "That's how deep I'm gonna be in you, baby."

For all his delicacy and tenderness in everything before now, he must have had a change of heart; with a little growl, he pushed all the way into you with one brutal thrust, watching darkly as your head fell back in a choked scream. He didn’t stop for very long, either, setting up a pace that was slow but unyielding, his length filling every part of you and then some with each slam of his hips into yours.

He grabbed your hair tightly and suddenly, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him. He licked and sucked along your pulse until you were shaking against him, nails accidentally digging into his shoulders a little bit as you held onto him.

His lips trailed up to pull you into a frenzied, sloppy kiss, your mouth slack wide for him to explore however he wanted.

"Tell me how it feels," he growled against your lips.

It feels like my body is on fire but I like it. It feels like you're shaping my insides to fit you exactly how you want. It feels like you might split me in half before you're done with me, but if you stop now I'll fall apart even worse.

His grip on your hair tightened at your lack of response. "Gettin' fucked too good to answer me, huh? So full of my cock you can't even speak. Is that right, pretty baby?"

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your hoarse moans and sobs muffled by his skin.

"Aw, poor thing," he purred, wrapping his arms around your back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke to you in a deep mumble, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine with each word. "You don't have to tell me, I know how it feels… you're so wet that you're fucking dripping, your needy little pussy is clamping down on me like it's the end of the fucking world, and you're screaming for me so loud I bet half the ship can hear you. I know how it feels, baby; it feels so good that you're already about to come for me."

You gasped as he pushed you to lay back on the table, hoisting your legs up over his shoulders; you felt a bit whorish seeing your legs up in the air like that, especially when he leaned to the side to plant a wet kiss on your calf.

Soon he was letting your legs slip back down to his hips, leaning over you and caging you in with his thick arms, watching your face as he started to fuck you harder. His long hair was at risk of tickling you as it fell down beside your face, but it was that Star of David necklace that was dangling from his neck and swinging right in your face with every thrust. Slightly annoyed by it hitting your face from time to time, you stuck out your tongue to catch it, holding it between your teeth and finding that biting down on it helped you cope with the slight pain of him so deep inside you anyways.

"Baby," he moaned, inspired by the sight to grab your hips even tighter and slam into you even harder. "Fuck, I'm close," he hissed. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby, gonna ruin you for anybody else, huh?"

"Yes, Ari," you whimpered. "I'm close, too…"

"Go ahead, pretty girl, wanna feel how tight you get when you come— when I make you come."

Trying to hold it back only made it hit you harder, and as your moans grew louder and your body began to shake, you felt your walls flutter and flex intensely. He pulled his necklace out of your mouth and kissed you suddenly; it kept you grounded as you feared that the rest of you would float away, lost in pleasure so thoroughly that you'd never come back to reality. His moans mixed with yours as they moved between your tongues, and just when you thought you'd break into pieces if he didn't slow down, you felt his movements stutter and his cock pump inside you. You couldn't feel the warmth of it because you were already so hot all over, but the way his cock swelled as he came was unmistakable and overwhelmingly erotic.

He broke the kiss but didn't pull away, catching his breath while he stayed inside you, resting his forehead against yours.

After cooling off for a moment, he scooped your limp body into his arms and lifted you into his chest; you wrapped around him and let him carry you to the other side of the room where he set you down on the pallet sleeping bags and blankets. You whimpered as he pulled out, his softening cock still big enough to make you wince. The gush of warm, sticky come made your cheeks burn even if it also sent a dulled tingle of arousal up your spine. He was gentlemanly enough to wipe you off with a towel, mumbling something about how pretty you looked stuffed with his come, but you couldn't really focus on any of that because you were still waiting for sensation to return to your numbed extremities— brain included.

He turned his head and laid it on your chest, and you found yourself absent-mindedly scratching his scalp with your nails.

"That's nice," he whispered, but you could tell that already by the way his skin was erupting into goosebumps, and the way he held you tighter.

You must've laid like that for hours, or maybe it was just a few minutes, but it was one of those moments that felt like a piece of forever. He lifted his head to look up at you, pulling you down a bit so his face hovered over yours.

"What's next for you after you get these women to Greece?" he asked quietly.

You chewed your lip as you thought about that. "Back to DC, I figure, and then wherever they send me next. I hear they might want me undercover in Cuba or Russia…"

"How often do you end up in Jerusalem?"

You squirmed a little beneath him, but he slipped his arm under your neck and pulled you closer; how were you supposed to think with his bicep right by your face like that? "Uh, not often, but if I'm in town I'll give you a call—"

"Come with me," he requested softly. "Get to Cyprus, go to Greece, and then meet me in Tel Aviv."

"Ari, I can't—"

"Why not?"

You laughed a little, but he clearly wasn’t joking. "Because I have a job?"

"You won't need a job," he shrugged, "I make good money and you can just live with me."

Your throat went dry as you stammered, trying to figure out if he had seriously just asked you to quit your job and move in with him.

"You'll like Israel. You speak some Hebrew don't you?"

"Uhh, yeah but—"

"Then what's stopping you?"

You couldn't answer because you didn't even know where to start with all the things that were stopping you. Your mouth opened and closed silently like a fish out of water, and he laughed at you lightly.

"Just say yes," he encouraged gently, and your heart twisted as you wondered if this was part of the deal, if you needed to do everything he wanted to keep him on your side. You were on an Israeli ship, sailing international waters; if he changed his mind now, he could still sell you out and have these people arrested or worse. But he wouldn't do that, right?

Perhaps the more important question was not 'would he do that?' but rather 'are you willing to find out?'

"Yes," you heard yourself answer before you even realized you were considering it.

He grinned, hugging you tightly. He was already rambling about how great it was going to be and how he would spoil you all the time and maybe find a way to get you hired as a contractor at Mossad so he could bring you along on missions, but you couldn't hear it past the ringing in your ears. You desperately needed sleep, and his arms were warm and welcoming as you drifted off. He kissed your forehead before letting his eyes fall shut as well, joining you in unconsciousness.

The swaying of the ship was like being rocked to sleep, so much so that you slept for an uncharacteristically long time: you were just a few hours out from your destination when you awoke, in fact.

Instead of getting up and attempting to acquire some food, you laid there staring up at the ceiling as his heavy arm draped over your chest. Even in his sleep he had power over you, refused to let you go. You tried to remember how you'd ended up in this situation but instead you found yourself fantasizing about a chance at love. After running around the world for so long, there weren't many good men left to settle down with. And Ari was maybe not an entirely good man, but you believed him when he said he would treat you well. You'd shacked up with a lot worse in your time, when you were young and reckless and thought the worst thing you could be was alone. Still, a long-suppressed desire for companionship was awakening in your mind and you weren't going to swallow it back down this time. Smiling, you lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. If what he wanted in exchange for his cooperation was your affection, you could do that.

#ari levinson x reader #dark!ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut #chris evans x reader #ari levinson x you

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perdidosbucky-yyo · 2 years

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Listen listen listen

👏🏼LISTEN👏🏼 TO👏🏼 ME👏🏼

Imagine a movie (not marvel) starring these mfs... You can't right???

BECAUSE THE WORLD WOULD IMPLODE

We would not survive...

Putting aside that they're all super gorgeous, their acting put together🤯 with the right director??? Omg

David finch perhaps??

Sam Levinson could make it work???

I would die if Guillermo del Toro worked with them (together at the same time)

#Wow Marvel really does know how to pick 'em #It's giving me drama #It's giving toxicity #digging up carrot's veggies 🥕#Ben barnes #Florence pugh #Zendaya #sebastian stan

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zalrb · 3 years

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OK so. I am guessing that John David Washington and Zendaya -- who both do the most to elevate the material they’re given -- would’ve had some contributions to how this movie talks about race but this script is making my head hurt because mostly on the part of Malcolm, it sounds like a white man imagining what a Black male artist would say and at best it’s disingenuous, at worst, it’s insulting.

Like the script overall is very pointed and on the nose and in my opinion lacks elegance and imagination but when it comes to race the absolute lack of nuance and insight and perspective is infuriating but also just really boring.

Black writers have confronted and explored the issues that Levinson thinks he’s exploring in a much more organic and complex and much less muddled way and he legit should’ve just stayed in his lane.

#malcolm and marie #like i just watched one night in miami #and i rewatched small axe #brilliant cinematic achievements #and then to go to this is just ... no #netflix can keep it

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full-moon-films · 2 years

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The Water Man (2020)

Director: David Oyelowo

Writer: Emma Needell

Producers: David Oyelowo; Carla Gardini; Shivani Rawat; Monica Levinson

Notable Cast: David Oyelowo; Rosario Dawson; Lonnie Chavis; Amiah Miller

Run Time: 92 minutes

Language: English

Restrictions: PG for language and horror

Genre: Adventure; Drama

The Water Man. Where to even begin with this beautiful gem of a film?

The story follows eleven-year old Gunner Boone (Lonnie Chavis) a he navigates the new emotional storm he finds himself in following the move to a new town on top of his mother’s leukemia diagnosis. Spurred on by his imaginative mind and his bottomless wells of hope, Gunner becomes intrigued with the story of the Water Man, a seemingly immortal man who can bring those lost back from the dead. Along the way he teams up with headstrong Jo Riley (Amiah Miller) and learns the meaning of family bonds, love and death.

As the story is so emotional, it relies heavily on colour, frame composition and camera angles to help tell more to the story than what is just expressed through dialogue or action. The four main characters - Gunner, Jo, Amos Boone (David Oyelowo) and Mary Boone (Rosario Dawson) - express emotion and steps in life’s journey just as much as they are their own characters. To add to the brilliance of the multiple narrative techniques, this story is first and foremost a family film. The main characters are preteens and act as such. But this doesn’t mean the film shies away from its big topics. Instead it handles them with compassion in a way that is understandable to the younger target audience, but also recognises their intelligence and speaks on their level, through characters they can relate to or desire to imprint on.

Right away, the most obvious thing about this movie’s storytelling is its use of colour, focusing primarily on yellow, blue and, to an extent, red.

Yellow is in almost every scene, and the audience does not see Gunner without the colour yellow being somewhere in the frame. From his bedroom walls to his favourite jacket and even the graffiti which he chooses to leave his scooter parked against, yellow is everywhere in Gunner’s world. This could be read as his joy and wide-eyed innocence to the world. He’s a child and no hardship has befallen him yet. Once he discovers and understands the extent of his mother’s illness, however, he still maintains this yellow. Here it could be symbolic of hope - a theme that becomes prevalent through the movie - and a way for Gunner to hold on to those feelings of joy he associates strongly with his mother and his family. Yellow to him represents how he sees his family. They’re alive, they’re warm and they’re joyous. Later, the stone the Water Man uses to revive the dead is, in Gunner’s imagination, yellow, Here again the colour is shown to be one of hope. His journey throughout the story is spurred on by this beacon of warm yellow.

Red is Amos’s colour. Still warm, it is darker than the bright, young optimism of his son. Amos was in the navy and has lived long enough to see the good and bad of humanity. He is also far more aware of the extent of his wife’s leukemia than his son is, hoping to protect him by maintaining his ignorance of the situation. Red is also a colour of power, something that Amos, as the perceived head of his family, tries to show people he has even if he himself doesn’t believe it. This show of power goes so far as him owning a bright red pickup truck, a vehicle which gets him through a literal police road block during the film’s climax in an effort to save his son.

Mary combines both of these. When she is first shown on screen, she is wearing bright patterns in red and yellow. She is the glue that connects the family together so that Amos has something to protect and Gunner has something to find joy in. At the start of the movie, Gunner and Amos’s relationship is terse, due to Amos’s absence while being stationed in the navy in Japan. They cannot connect to each other and it is up to Mary to be the connection for them. But as Mary gets more sick her clothes loose their bright, bold statements and as they do, Amos and Gunner become closer. Amos learns to connect to his emotions and show his son love. Gunner learns that he can rely on his father and he doesn’t need to put the weight of his mother’s illness on his shoulders.

Finally there is the blue, brought through the film through cynical Jo. Blue is far colder than yellow or red and Jo, too, doesn’t believe she needs anyone to look out for her. She also wears red initially to show power where she doesn’t have any, much like Amos. But as the film progresses all her red falls away and only the blue remains. While her and Gunner are in the forest alone, moving further from their homes, Jo lets herself feel more and more vulnerable, showing off her soft, true, blue side and not her fiery red facade. Her blue coding shows how isolated she is and how desperate she feels she needs to be loved by someone. Gunner in his bright innocence shows her she doesn’t have to be cold and aloof to protect herself. In a final scene she is sitting at the dinner table with Gunner and his parents, wearing a yellow shirt. She may be older than Gunner, but he teaches her lessons in kindness, openness and community.

The camera, too, is a voice just as strong as the voice of colour. The shots pay close attention to the dominant emotions of the characters in their situations and act accordingly.

When his parents find out that the graphic novel Gunner is writing centres itself around death, they move to a sheltered corridor to talk about it. The whole scene is filmed behind Gunner’s partially-open door. The audience is made aware of how private the moment is and the isolation of Gunner from the situation. When Mary is too sick to get out of bed and a home nurse staff comes to install medical machines to monitor her vitals, it all happens in the cut-off view Gunner has of it all through the door as he stands in the corridor. He does not understand his mother’s disease and his parents won’t help him to understand. The only way he knows anything about leukemia is through books he borrows from his favourite town bookstore - the same way he stumbles upon the ‘reality’ of the Water Man.

The camera is also the voice that reminds the audience how small Gunner is when he and Jo embark on their journey to find the elusive Water Man and find a permanent cure for Mary. Every introductory shot of them is far away, leaving them as two tiny yellow and blue specks in the vast, overwhelming landscape. It solidifies how out of their depth the children are, even if their young bravery won’t let them see that. The opening shot of the film is an aerial view of Gunner riding a scooter through a cemetery. Death is all around him, and he feels so small in the face of it.

When something confusing happens in the story or there is a cause for Gunner to be disoriented, the camera tracks a circle around him. When he and Jo come across a patch of falling ‘snow’ (actually ash from a current forest fire), Gunner and the camera dance around in it as upbeat music plays under him. He doesn’t know why there is snow, but his hopeful, yellow personality tells him it must be good. But when he hears strange noises in the forest at night and goes to investigate, the camera here too circles him. But now it is not a sign of wonder in the face of the unknown, but rather an isolating confusion. Gunner takes centre frame as a light against pitch black. Fear disorients him and his hope and all of this is told through the track of a camera.

The Water Man ends up being nothing but a ghost story that Gunner in his innocent hope wants to believe. But that doesn’t mean that the film is void of any lessons, especially lessons important for any child to come to terms with.

I could’t help but notice the Boone family being the only three black people in the whole town of Pine Mills. This, the fact that they only recently moved in and Mary being sick should make them the most ‘othered’ members of the tiny community. Amos drives through the town and the movie pointedly stops to look at the older, white residents and Amos’s uncertainty over it. But apart from that this ‘othering’ is little discussed. The movie is through Gunner’s perspective and it seems that he has been taught how to be more friendly, polite and well-spoken than most of the adults to overcome this. People are drawn to Gunner and everyone - even the sheriff who only knows him from his missing poster - warms up to him. Even though the story is told through him, he seems like an attainable goal. His character is presented as the good one. The peace-loving, book-reading, well dressed, open young boy. He leaves without his parents’ permission to a place they don’t know, but texts his mom to save her from worrying. He doesn’t retaliate when Jo lashes out at him. He is friendly to the owner of the bookstore. He is ready to listen to the town’s designated ‘crazy scientist’ (who is played by Alfred Molina, which I find amusing) with a sympathetic ear and a curious mind. His character prioritises love over any show of masculine strength. And this character embodied by a young, black boy is a message that needs to be heard loud and clear across the board.

On the other hand, Jo is the cynical opposite and the other character children watching this movie would relate to. She is the ‘cool girl’ with blue hair, strong eyeliner and mystic tales of her brush with death at the hands of the Water Man. But this is quickly shown as a negative character through the responses of Gunner. Though calm and gentle, he condemns Jo’s thievery, her aggression and her need to be flawless in everything. Instead of taking a joke, she retreats in to herself. She acts brave, but, unlike Gunner, she is running away from and not towards something. Her character would rather escape than face her issues - those issues bing the very real problem of an abusive, negligent father. Gunner is the first person to show her genuine love and at first it scares her. She pushes him away when she feels her guard coming down. But what starts in a bright red tent as a way for her to lord power over a younger boy, grows into a genuine friendship by the end of it. At every day in their journey they get closer. From sleeping at different times to sleeping on opposite sides of a literal line in the sand to a final hug as Gunner saves Jo from the flames, her redemption shows that, while your past is a part of you, it need not define your character.

Another massive part of the story is the complicated relationship between father and son. Mary and Gunner get on together easily and have a natural read on each other. But between Gunner and Amos, things are more strained. Amos doesn’t know how to talk to Gunner at the start of the film. He tries to play football with his sensitive, creative son, destroying his graphic novel in the process. He can’t handle any difficult conversations with Gunner, especially not those which discuss Mary and her illness.

But it is Amos who leaves everything to look for and save his son once he goes missing. It is Amos who Gunner trusts enough to let him be carried across a lake - his greatest fear is water. It is also Amos at the end of the film that buys Gunner new art supplies and encourages him to work through his creative block. After they come home, Gunner is dressed in a red shirt, a colour related to Amos, and Amos is in yellow. Amos, too, confronts Gunner about death, specifically Mary’s. They all know what will happen, and while Mary laughs it off, saying after death she’ll go to “The Cheesecake Factory”, Amos sympathises with Gunner. He admits he hates the idea of losing Mary and it is this act of vulnerability that eventually leads to Gunner and Amos sharing their first hug.

The Water Man handles the topics of life, death, love and sickness with amazing poise for a film targeted at such a young demographic. But this limited age does mean that some parts added to the film undermine its message.

There are a few moments with too much whimsey. Yes, Gunner is creative and when this is expressed through his drawings being animated in his sketchbook, or an animation of the history of the Water Man, it works. But when it is used to create a tsunami of bugs washing Jo and Gunner away from their supplies in the middle of the night, it goes a little too far. Gunner imagining his whole encounter with the Water Man himself also feels a little too much like the cliche “and it was all a dream” sequence everyone knows and hates.

The subplot of the forest fire also doesn’t lead anywhere. There is no real emphasis placed on the opposites of fire and water. Apart from speeding up the events of the film and creating higher stakes for Amos to find his son, it amounts to next to nothing. It felt like filler in a script that was so rich otherwise it didn’t need it in the first place.

But it still stands as one of the best family films I have seen. Perhaps even one of the most eloquent films I have seen and I believe it deserves a full 8/10 final score.

#the water man #the water man review #2020 movies #adventure #drama #david oyelowo #rasario dawson #lonnie chavis #amiach miller #movie review #my review #my thoughts

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truthdogg · 3 years

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This is possibly the most interesting side story of any scandal in some time.

Matt Gaetz tried to distract from the sex-trafficking investigation into him by claiming that the REAL scandal is that someone in the government was trying to blackmail his father by making up charges about him. And it could actually end up being a big story itself.

It’s important to first understand that Gaetz’s dad Don, a healthcare exec, is one of the most powerful lawmakers Florida state politics has ever had. The Gaetz family is also, as you might’ve guessed, very rich. If you ever saw The Truman Show, that’s the house Matt grew up in. You might see Matt as a Florida redneck, but he’s from hoity-toity 30A. That’s an entirely different country than the rest of the panhandle or the rest of the state.

So apparently two officials tried to shake Don down for $25m, which if he paid they’d make his son’s investigation go away. The investigation itself was only known about by insiders and some GOP leaders (of course), and the implication here is that they had—and have—Gaetz cold. This investigation would only ever have gone away with a pardon from the president, and these two officials had a plan to make that happen as well.

Bob Levinson was captured in Iran in 2007 while working for the CIA. He’s been presumed dead for several years but these guys told Don Gaetz that there’s a confirming video showing that Levinson is still alive. Daddy Gaetz’s money was needed to free him, and Baby Gaetz would get the credit.

One of the officials was David McGee, a former federal prosecutor. The other was Bob Kent, who’s alternately described as a former Air Force intelligence officer or a Naval intelligence officer in reports. It doesn’t take much imagination to see that Kent more than likely works for a different American intelligence agency, one better known for its covert missions.

The implication here is that McGee & Kent are looking to fund an operation, one that Congress either doesn’t want to pay for or doesn’t want to now about. The CIA has funded those sorts of activities for decades with kidnapping, blackmail, importing & selling drugs, and all sorts of other activities. Like their Russian counterparts, they’re known to collect kompromat on domestic politicians, and this is a perfect example of it. Levinson might really still be alive, or might not, but it looks like there was a real intent to pay for a covert operation.

Whatever that operation was, and especially if it was indeed about Levinson, Gaetz killed it by taking it public. It wasn’t likely the payoff could’ve worked for him anyway; having a Democratic president pardon a Republican sex-trafficker was a very long shot, even if he did somehow get credit for bringing Levinson home.

But now it looks like IF there was ever any chance for him to get out of the legal mess he’s built for himself that might’ve been the only one. His goose is cooked.

And although I hope I’m wrong, McGee & Kent will most likely slip out of the headlines before Gaetz even stands trial.

#i'm just spitballing here #pizzagaetz #matt gaetz #don gaetz #us politics

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theplumsoldier · 5 years

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NO KISSES

Summary: y/n is a guest at the red sea diving resort and is down to fuck the hot guy in the reception. also again i tagged some sweet people that i thought might be interested—do let me know if you are not, i dont wish to inconvenience anyone. as always, feedback is most appreciated!:)

Pairing: ari levinson x reader

Word count: 3227

Warnings: smut, vulgar language.

Truly and in all certainty, the man behind the counter had to be created by the meticulous hands of God himself—hell, if that was not Jesus standing right there in trunks and a buttoned-down shirt you swore the Earth might as well be off and be flat. But then again, religion was ancient and so was that bird-brained belief, and the man you had come to know as Guy, he too appeared to belong to the ‘archaic’ variety of men who had caught your interest.

He was not old. You did not think so, at least, still, he certainly was the kind to age with grace, much like wine and although you never had found yourself able to appreciate a good glass, this man seemed to be the ideal type to drink a bottle with.

Chest hair peeked from behind his open shirt, a fine glow that the sun had left on his skin made the beads of sweat glisten so beautifully in the yellow light. The Magen David pendant hung in swaying motion from his neck and you had to curse yourself for imagining it jumping from his chest while he pounded into you. Undoubtedly this was a vacation and you were going to have fun now that you finally were single, only you could not imagine this was a vacation to him, this was work. As a woman working in a bar, you were widely familiar with those late-at-night-attempts to get some, and therefore you had more respect for both Guy and yourself than to hint towards the conspicuous sin.

The hour was late, and the resort deserted. You figured most had gone to sleep or were out by the beach for a late-night drink, considering there were few places in the vicinity providing leisure of that kind. The friends you were at the retreat with had retired to the bedrooms you shared. As the day had consisted of little besides ample writing, you were nowhere near tired enough to sleep and the humid weather did nothing but make you toss in the sheets.

And that was why you had yet to join your friend, thinking it better to leave her be to doze off while you could tire yourself out some. So, sitting in the foyer, you were leaned in over papers, some with and some without writing, a pen spinning between your fingers and half a bottle of exotic, combustible liquor.

Guy had been wandering about for some time, disappearing and reappearing every now and then, taking care of his late-night resort business, you supposed. The next time he was away was a little while longer than the last, making you wonder just what he was occupied with, missing the sight of his fine figure.

By the time he returned, you were too caught up in your paper to take notice of his approach. However, once he cleared his throat your head lifted and you could not help but smirk at the cocksure man, holding a pot of coffee and two cups.

You leaned back in your seat, pushing at the chair opposite you with your foot under the table, gesturing for him to take a seat. “I was wondering when you were going to stop playing hard to get.”

Guy let out a laugh on took you up on the invitation.

“I hope it’s that paper keeping you up this late and not your room,” said he and tilted his head curiously to the side, as if asking a question and you caught on.

“Oh, no the room is very accommodating. It’s really just my friend’s snores that are rather offensive.”

“Ah,” Guy chuckled as he got comfortable, pouring the coffee and speculated what it would feel like to have a large man such as himself to pin you down, or in good hap, pound you, even. “Mind my asking what you’re working on?”

“It’s an article. About the prosperous lands of the African savannah.”

“Really?” ticked he, nonplussed.

“No. At this point, this—” you held the smaller stack of papers into the air, “is just a bunch of zany scribblings of a drunk. You know, it was my friends that picked this place and planned the whole trip. Just, like, a getaway, ‘cause apparently their actuary- and retail jobs are so fucking stressing, and I got curious, you know? Of all the places in the world, they settled on Sudan. I mean, now that I’m here, this is nice, I guess, it’s nice! But they must have spelled something wrong somewhere and fortuitously got us shipped off to this desert, and—shit, I’m sorry, I’m maundering.”

Guy held out a cup for you. Accepting, you leaned over the table and you swore your heartrate increased the moment his fingers brushed yours. You almost knocked the bottle of liquor over when you pulled back, cheeks flushed.

“No, please—continue. I have been wondering what brings people so far out.”

“Well, to begin, your brochure was extremely tantalizing,” deadpanned you and inhaled the smell of the steaming java. “Also, I figured heck, so I did some research about Sudan and ended up on some wild goose chase, somehow stuck on fucking Mossad.”

Candidly, your words ignited a spark of fear in Ari, his azure composed eyes widening for a split-second, though you did not take notice of the change before he shifted and regained composure. Circumspect he observed you warily and shifted in his seat, trying to read you but you were not as much of an open book as he would have preferred. This made you interesting, yet perilous for a man of his taste.

“Anyway, I ended up with more questions than I had to begin with and decided it might be an interesting place to spend some time. Though I have to admit, I thought there would be more of a chance of getting a taste of the culture, but this is nice too.”

Coming to understand you were no threat, he soon relaxed in his place. You were no more than a tourist. He decided it was safe to let down his guard and be a nosy parker, asking where you got with “that Mossad story”.

“In retrospect, I can honestly say not far. I mean it was more of a conspiracy theory than anything. Still, I had the audacity to, on a whim—” you were chuckling by now, taunting yourself as you now could see why your boss had allowed you to take some time off, clear your mind. “—run it by my editor, but he turned me down. Our paper just made a deal to have a column-collab with CNN, which he wants me to be in charge of, so he’d rather have me go with something, said “more appropriate”, like a tribute to John Lennon or fucking post-its. Can you believe that? I didn’t get into journalism to gossip; I write to make people feel something; incite revolution; I wouldn’t mind that now.”

“Huh,” hummed he fairly entertained, curiously eyeing you as he lifted the cup to his lips. “Well, I have to admit, I’m a bit of a sucker for conspiracy theories myself, so, I mean, I’d love to read it sometime.”

You chuckled and shook your head, leaning over the table. “Oh no, I fed that garbage to a shredder long ago.”

Guy’s face dropped, seemingly contorting into a mix of disappointment and concentration as he was deep in thought.

“Trust me, you did not miss out,” said you and eyed the trepidation in his entangled fingers. “This piece, however, now that would be worth your while! Nothing that’s ever going to see the light of day but it’s a fine review of this corner of the world, complimenting your superlative resort here.”

“Is that so?” uttered he with a sly smirk and you nodded your head, taking a sip of the coffee.

“Aha! Also, I needed something to distract my mind with, seeing as I have been going at whatever the hell this is for hours now. I can assure you; a sleep-deprived drunken state is the circumstances a writer could ask for.”

He clicked his tongue and his head tilted back, mind going elsewhere. “Doesn’t sound very healthy, though. I could think of other sufficient ways if it’s a distraction you’re seeking.”

A coy smile curled your lip upward, needing no more to assimilate the overt hint and had it not been for the alcohol, your face would have been red as the sunburnt Germans on the tour.

“You know, if you want to fuck, all you have to do is say so.”

He seemed taken aback, but his pacific eyes flashed only a glimpse of surprise before he felt himself break from the daze. “And here I thought I was being bold.”

Humming in reply, you suppressed your smirk and wet your lips, trying to read his face.

Then he spoke up again, “it was Y/N, yeah?”

Nodding your head slowly, you felt your heartbeat increase and your legs’ position shifted as you struggled to tend to the tingle fluttering between your legs.

“Good.”

“And Guy?”

A short moment passed by in silence until he uttered a low “yeah” in reply. Then another passed, one where you took the time to wonder if you really were going to have sex with a complete stranger. The thought, although you never would have considered yourself so adventurous, was appealing to you and the heating sensation only stirred in you. You watched as Guy took you in and he hurriedly looked around him, the sound of his chair’s legs screeching against the floor.

“So, let’s do this.”

And Guy set marching.

His pace was moderate, something for you to keep up with, still, he did not walk five feet without casting a glance across his shoulder to make sure you still were at his tail. You were, of course, and like an eager dog following the food of that. In the end, he ended up reaching for your hand to pull you along, faster and you could not help but grin at the hurry he seemed to be in.

Finding yourself in his company, in his room, you looked around you, though he gave you little chance as he quickly had you caught against the shut door. Dipping down to connect your lips, Guy never got further than grazing your plump, soft lips, ever so slightly and he gave you a questioning look, a funny smirk tugging at his features and you explained, naming your one condition.

“No kissing.”

Guy pouted like a child finding coal rather than candy in his stocking on Christmas morning. “But that’s half the fun, darling.”

And you laughed at him, one hand teasingly sliding down his chest to unbutton the rest of his shirt. “Well, I’ll try my best to make up for it then.”

From excitement, Guy emitted a begging whine and his head dropped back, knowing all too well what you implied, and he had grown impatient even before you could rid him of his shorts. Reimbursing him with a teasing kiss just below his navel, you pulled down the cover. Springing free from strains, his cock stood tall and proud, saluting you and you gaped at the size and thickness of his girth. Surely, that was a mouthful, but you did not let yourself scare and rather blinked up at him, breaking a coy smile, before wrapping your hand around him. Feeling him, your fingers curled him and ran up his shaft, enjoying the sounds you pulled from him at the simple action. He was so responsive, and his cock twitched when your lips brushed his mushroom head. Darting out your tongue to teasingly swirl around him, you set at the base and licked along the prominent vein, humming a sweet sound for him as you complacently watched his blissed expression. Wetting your lips, you wrapped your lips around the tip, tasting the hint of salt he had to offer and for balance, your hands steadied you on his thighs while he moved the hair from your face. Taking a few inches, you dragged yourself up and down his cock, drawing back to spit on him and then fit more. While accustoming your throat to the considerable size of him, your one hand worked on what you had yet to fit, squeezing around him. Guy moaned your name as your tongue massaged against him, reveling in the pleasing sensation in which you provided.

Working on him for minutes, you could feel yourself wet at the very idea of him down your throat and you had to bring your hand down between your legs to take care of yourself all the while. The sound escaping you was almost pornographic, gagging around his cock as his hips bucked forward, fucking your face.

Hissing, Guy was ready to burst at any given time and urged you deeper on his cock, when you shifted. You received a questioning gaze through his daze when your lips left his cock and you merely grinned for yourself. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought a man such as himself would so easily be wrapped around your finger, but here he was, wanting you more than anything, making you feel divine as you stood from your knees.

You never had been one to stride from an honest challenge in this time was no different, although it proved none at all when he so complaisantly fell under your curse. Thus it was nothing but nature for you to take what you wanted, and knowing you had to be dripping down your thighs by now, you reached to suck on his neck, pushing him onto the bed.

Feeling him rock hard against your clothed cunt, he elicited a moan from you the had him groan low in his chest. Desperately Guy wanted to take control of the moment and set a bruising pace, only he could not recall a time where he had felt so small, not to mention the part of him enjoying a woman in power.

Straddling him, your dress hiked up you fevered skin and his rough hands helped you pull it over your head, exposing your body for the humid air to embrace. Exploring hands admired your bare chest, tugged you down by your waist, grinding against him and his large hands fell to your bottom. Adroit fingers rid you off your garments in seconds and he hoisted you closer to him. It was then he got a sense of just how wet you were for him. All for him and he grunted, smirking to himself at the thought of how slippery you had gotten from sucking him off.

Driving yourself crazy by running your sex up and down his pulsing shaft, you spread your wetness across his cock and made a mess when you decided you had kept him waiting long enough. Steadying yourself with a hand flat on his heavily heaving chest, you lifted yourself and lined his head with your slick entrance, before sliding down.

Guy winced, pleasure engulfing him as your warmth swallowed him whole. Panting a faint moan, you heaved yourself unsteadily and the precariousness of a lady, eyes squinting shut at the all too missed feel of a man filling you.

Alleviating hands kneaded the soft spots of your body, holding you by the waist to guide you up and down him. His azure eyes were fixated on where you met, head craned out of comfort, pulled off the pillow to watch how well you took him. The sounds you made were hushed but pornographic and became more so when he pulled you down, close to his face and he could smell himself on you as you coveted climax.

“You hear that?” mutters he into your skin, voice husky and responsible for the shivers sparking through your bones. While your head was long gone in a state of ecstasy, the taunting slap of his balls on your skin echoed through your mind and you whined in response, nearly collapsing as you failed to keep up with him. Fucking up into your clenching cunt, Guy grunted against you, his one hand lifting your chin, forcing eye contact and you moaned at the sight. With all but his glorious, damp expression and the resonating, squelching sounds from between your thighs blocked out, you shuddered, hoping to God, not a soul had heard, for your frolic affairs could not be mistaken. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well, Y/N.”

And barely in the mental state to keep yourself composed; Guy stripped you from all chances of keeping quiet as his hand snaked between sweaty bodies to toy with your clit. Whimpering, you harshly bit down on your lip, your own hand tentatively, shakingly clasping against his and he can do nothing but watch keenly in wonderment as you came around his cock. Ponding you through your orgasm, he did not heed the thumping sound on a fist on the wall, refusing to let the face of Max ruin his orgasm. Squeezing around him, Guy felt himself unable to restrain any longer, and he pulled out, his thick load painting your stomach and pussy.

Moaning an elongated cry at the absence of his bruising thrusts, you ground out your fading orgasm on his stomach, his cock twitching beneath you, still spurting. Fragile as glass, you were collapsed on Guy, breath hitched in your hoarse throat, nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck as you attempted to pacify your rapid breathing. Moments passed, recalibrating your respiration and his soothing fingers kneading the spots where marks had been left.

Drawing in a deep breath, you gently lifted your head, shifting and leaning your cheek on your open palm. Simpering and with a hint of thoroughly-fucked in your kittenish eyes, you stole his half-lidded gaze, catching a peaceful smile.

“I should go,” breathed you, catching yourself lick your lips when your eyes darted to his.

Lips parted, Guy moved a little beneath you, hand resting on the small of your back while his thumb still drawing circled patterns.

“You don’t have to,” muttered he with a short pause, only after voiced, realizing his words may have sounded importunate. And that was the last thing he wanted to paint himself as, but he had scant to worry about—after all, he had just fucked a stunning stranger and not one of the two was in rue. “Not yet, at least.”

And you hummed with a smile, one that later would make an appearance in his deviant thoughts. Softly placing your hand on his chest, you leaned in close and ghosted your lips over his, hungry for more but tantalizing in essence.

“This was fun.” Lightly tapping his sturdy chest, you pecked him on his bearded cheek and cast him a smile before making your entrancing exit. “We should do it some other time.”

And just like that, you left him in his room with nothing but his mind to replay the previous scene of wanton happening, his cock hardening only at the notion of sweetest gasps and sinful pants you had offered him. He fucked his hand one last time before he drifted off, off into the deepest slumber he had had in a long time.

TAGLIST: @patzammit @draeluna @chibi-crazy @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @tanyam93 @valentina-booth @peach-acid @jeanily3000 @jamesgiuseppe @loilko

#ari levinson #ari levinson smut #chris evans smut #Chris Evans #chris evans imagine #Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #ari levinson imagine #theplumsoldier

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

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Leave No One Behind: Meet the Characters

Leave No One Behind- An Ari Levinson fanfic by @what-is-your-plan-today and @icanfeelastormbrewing.

Character Profiles.

A/N- There isn’t much character development really over RSDR, and very little is known about our Characters’ back ground...so we have used a combination of fiction and facts either delivered by the film or what we have found via research on Mossad, the history of the Jewish people in the 40s through 80s and our imagination to bring this to you. It is, historically, as factually correct as we can make it, but if anything is wrong, we mean no offence. Take it as slight creative license...

"For wise guidance, you can wage your war."

All ages correct as of 1979

Name: Ari David Levinson

Alias: Guy Thomas.

Age 36-Born in 1943.

Background: Ari's mother, Amira Levinson was as Holocaust survivor, part of the 4,500 Jewish Immigrants who were carried from France to Palestine in 1947 on the SS Exodus, where they were refused entry. A British Soldier, Steven Thomas, took pity on Ari's mother and she surrendered her son to him for fear he would otherwise die. A year or so later, Steven Thomas met and fell in love with an American Woman, Edith Johnson and they married and moved to America. Ari returned to Israel age 18 to find his roots and embark on his University studies of Anthropology.

Ari has been a Mossad agent since he was 24. He joined in 1967 alongside best friend Sammy who he met aged 23 through Mutual Friends. Ari quickly became one of the most experienced Field Operatives around, specialising in extraction missions and intelligence gathering.

After a will they/won’t they/ they did fling of sorts with Hannah, which lasted 3 months or so, Ari met his wife Sarah in August 1971 and after a whirlwind relationship that left her pregnant, married in early 1972. Their daughter, Maya was born August that year.

Personality Traits: Ari is kind hearted with the desire to help people, but this drive and need to make a difference has made him selfish in some ways and neglectful of his family life, often putting his anthropology and vocation first. He is also stubborn and rarely known to back down when he feels he is right and is most certainly NOT a man with a plan, preferring to fly by the seat of his pants which at times means putting himself and his team in danger at times, although this is never done on purpose.

Simply put he doesn't know when to stop, but will genuinely move heaven and Earth to help anyone in need.

*****************

Name: Hannah Maria Horowitz (nee Navon Garcia) (OFC)

Alias: Rosa-Maria Gomez

Age 29-Born in 1950

Face Claim- Lyndsy Fonseca

Background: Hannah was born in Tel-Aviv to an American Jewish Father and a Spanish Catholic Mother, Hannah and Sammy's Mother fled the growing unrest in Spain to New York in 1935 aged 17. There she trained as a nurse and met their father. The two married in 1940 before Ethan was posted to Europe during the 2nd WW. After seeing first-hand the horror his people suffered in the Holocaust, upon his return Ethan became a Conscientious Objector and moved his wife and son to Tel Aviv in 1949, where he took up a post in the Israeli Government looking at how to help fellow persecuted Jews who were scattered across the globe. In 1949 he was one of the founding members of the Central Institute for Coordination which was a central body designed to coordinate and improve cooperation between the existing security services. This later became Mossad.

Following a short battle polio, Hannah’s father died when she was just 5 years old. Both her parents work and desire to help others inspired her to follow in her brother's footsteps and train as a Doctor. Hannah joined Mossad in 1973 aged 23 through as part of her Father’s Legacy and was one of the first Females ever to be deployed into the field. As a Field Doctor she was called to go wherever the need took her, and this includes running a number of operations as part of teams headed up by Ari. Through her links with Mossad she met Andy Horowitz, one of her brother and Ari's protégées and the two married in 1975. Andy was killed on a mission 8 months later in 1976. This spurred Hannah to leave Mossad behind and work at the Surgery her Mother set up in her Father's Memory.

Personality Traits: Hannah is a free spirit, very bohemian with an extremely fierce temper at times and a stubborn streak to rival Ari's. Being somewhat 7 years her brother's junior has led to her being mature beyond her years but also sometimes naive in the way she always tries to see the best in people, even if they possess few redeeming qualities. Hannah wears her heart on her sleeve, and does nothing by halves... including falling in love. The death of her husband left her reeling and for the first time ever questioning her life decisions.

*****************

Name: Samuel Ethan Navon Garcia (Sam or Sammy)

Alias: Liam Anderson

Age 36 Born in 1943

Background: Older brother to Hannah, 7 years her senior, Sammy was born in New York and moved to Tel-Aviv aged 6 following his father’s decision to join the Israeli Government. Following the death of his father when he was 12, seeing the care he was given inspired Sammy to become a Doctor and later a surgeon. He met Ari aged 23 in 1966 through mutual friends and the two bonded instantly over a shared desire, vision and passion to help fellow Jews who remained scattered across the globe and still suffering persecution.

Sammy joined Mossad 1967 as a Field Doctor, working alongside Ari on many an extraction mission whilst maintaining his regular role as a surgeon when not away active service. Sammy suffered a severe injury on one mission in 1973 after his right hand was damage by a knife in combat and this left him unable to perform surgery any longer.

Personality Traits: Sammy is extremely similar to his sister in a lot of ways, yet different in many too. Stubborn and opinionated, but more logical, able to let his brain rule his heart. This leads him to clash with Ari on many occasions over missions where he feels Ari is being reckless where he doesn’t need to be. Where Hannah is concerned, he is well aware she can fight her own battles, and for the most leaves well alone. However, when the chips are down the protective big brother rears his head and Hannah can find this overbearing at times, but frankly he doesn't care!

***************

Name: Maxwell James Rose (Max)

Alias: Irving Wilmington

Age 34 Born in 1946

Background: Max was born to Jewish Immigrants in Queens, New York. Best friends with Andy Horowitz (Hannah's husband) since childhood, the 2 joined the army once old enough and were later head hunted for a number of one-off specialist missions by Ari after they came to his attention when the US army provided back up on a few of his operations. They joined Mossad full time in 1972 and were as inseparable then as they had been all their lives. When Andy died in 1976, Max continued to run a number of missions before leaving the service in 1978 and becoming a Mercenary, working for whichever intelligence agency wished to hire him. He considers Hannah one of his best friends, and she does him.

Personality Traits: Max is quite similar to Hannah in that they both live life to the full and take no prisoners. He is, however, a lot more placid but that means when he does lose it, it is done in spectacular fashion. His good humour and overall placid nature mean he is often able to diffuse many a situation and therefore is often the peace-keeper of the group, even if this role is unintentional. His one weakness, however, is food…and if you want him to do anything for you, he will in exchanged for a decent burger or sandwich.

**************

Name: Rachel Reiter

Alias: Angela Bluchel

Age 31 Born in 1948

Background: Born in Munich, Germany, Rachel is the only child of 2 German Jews. After hearing her parents stories of the Holocaust, Rachel desired to also make a difference. As part of the recruitment drive in the early 70s, Rachel joined the Israeli Government and moved into Mossad in the same training intake as Hannah, the two of whom were the first ever women agents to be deployed. She married Brandon Cole, an American, in 1974 an had two children, divorcing in 1979. She remained part of Mossad, however opting to run low- key missions to minimise time away from her family.

Personality Traits: Rachel is your typical matriarch and being a mother has fallen into that natural role within the group. Old before her years she is logical, kind but also possesses a wickedly fast and logical brain. Alongside Max she often finds herself keeping the peace, specifically between Hannah, Ari and Sammy the three of whom seem to cause her a constant tension headache.

**************

Name: Jacob Thomas Wolf (Jake)

Alias: Luca Morano

Age 32 Born in 1947

Background: Jake is the only one of the group with no specialist Mossad Intelligence service training. Jake was born in Jerusalem to native parents and joined the Navy aged 20. A specialist Diver, he was hand-picked to run a few missions with Ari when required before leaving the Navy in 1976 to become a diving instructor in Central America.

Personality Traits: Jake embodies what everyone thinks of as they typical 60s spirit. He is laid back, willing to go with the flow, but possesses a very analytical eye which can enable him to see the bigger picture where often others can't. Often found topping up his tan in-between diving sessions, Jake has a dirty sense of humour, and absolutely no sense of when it is appropriate or not to use it.

*********

Name: Ethan Levin

Alias: N/A

Age 54 Born in 1925

Background: Ethan joined Mossad aged 26 in 1951 after being spotted by Ethan Navon, who became his Personal and Professional Mentor until his death. Ethan fast rose through the ranks and is now the Head Intelligence Officer within Mossad, and the long suffering boss of Ari Levinson. Reporting directly into the Mossad Chief, Ethan is responsible for the coordination of the Key Undercover Operative Team, of which Ari is a member.

Personality Traits: Ethan is clever, logical and attempts to keep the rabble in check by obtaining a level of control of Ari, and commanding their respect. Having known Hannah and Sammy's dad, he is naturally a little protective over the two of them, well as much as he can be without showing direct favouritism. Despite his crisp exterior, Ethan cares and believes intently in the job his team are doing, and will back them as far as he is able. He sees Ari as a potential replacement to take his mantle when the time is right.

And there we have it!! Keep your eyes peeled for our first Chapter which is coming in the next few days!! As always, any asks/tag requests gratefully received...

#leave no one behind #ari levinson x ofc #ari levinson #red sea diving resort #red sea diving resort fan fic

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Best New Movies on Netflix in March 2021

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The month of March signals a grim milestone with it being roughly one year since COVID-19 shut movie theaters down around the world. And 12 months later, going to a cinema remains a risky proposition. However, the comfort of Netflix is still providing a safe alternative for the quarantine-bound.

Here’s a handful of new cinematic gems coming to a streaming service near you.

Batman Begins (2005)

March 1

Christopher Nolan‘s Batman origin story breathed new life into the Dark Knight in 2005 after Batman & Robin killed the movie franchise eight years earlier. Christian Bale, who gained more muscle than he probably needed for the role, turns in an excellent performance as both the troubled billionaire and the Caped Crusader. Along for the ride are Michael Caine as the definitive version of Alfred Pennyworth on the big screen, as well as Liam Neeson as Ra’s al Ghul, Gary Oldman as Jim Gordon, and Katie Holmes as love interest Rachel Dawes. Featuring plenty of twists and turns, a few spooky scenes with the Scarecrow (Cillian Murphy), and a deep-dive into the mind of a haunted man on a mission to save his decaying city, Batman Begins plants many of the seeds of brilliance that would fully bloom in its follow-up.

Crazy, Stupid, Love. (2011)

March 1

Hitting its 10-year anniversary in a few months, Glenn Ficarra and John Requa’s Crazy, Stupid, Love. still feels like a rom-com from a different era. With its laid back demeanor, and generally laconic grooving on a plot about a player (Ryan Gosling) helping a middle-aged divorced schmuck (Steve Carell) get back on his feet, this goes down more like a star vehicle from five decades ago. Yet the piece is as effortlessly appealing as Gosling’s too-cool-for-school energy, elevating the movie over screenwriter Dan Fogelman’s more recent dramedies, such as This is Us. Plus, hey, it’s also the first movie to realize Gosling and Emma Stone have like crazy good chemistry.

Dances with Wolves (1990)

March 1

Kevin Costner’s Oscar winner is somewhat haunted by its little gold statues for Best Picture and Director, which it won over Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas. However, there is still an excellent Western here that captured audiences’ imaginations in 1990 for a reason. The story of a U.S. Cavalry officer who becomes enamored with and then assimilated by a community of Lakota Native Americans, Dances with Wolves has a sweeping majesty that’s as immersive as John Barry’s score. It can be rightly criticized for embracing “white savior” tropes, but Costner’s movie still has the good grace to put performances like Graham Greene’s front and center.

The Dark Knight (2008)

March 1

Fans critical of Heath Ledger’s casting as the Joker quickly switched to praising the late actor when The Dark Knight hit theaters in 2008. A true agent of chaos, this Joker puts Bale’s Batman and his allies through a gauntlet of capers, assassination attempts, and pain. Even district attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), the city’s very own white knight, can’t resist the Joker’s corrupting influence as the clown lays siege to Gotham. A story about how far you’ll go to get justice, and how long a functioning society can withstand that pressure, The Dark Knight plays more like a serious crime drama (with Batman flying off rooftops on occasion, of course) than a traditional superhero romp. At a time when superhero movies were still better known for punching and tights, Nolan sought to say something more with the genre.

Rain Man (1988)

March 1

Barry Levinson’s 1988 road trip drama cleaned up at the Oscars when it was released, bagging Best Picture, Director, Original Screenplay, and Best Actor for Dustin Hoffman. It’s often held up as creating the stereotype of the “autistic savant,” but this drama which sees selfish douchebag Charlie (Tom Cruise) travel across America with Raymond (Hoffman), the brother he didn’t know he had but who is now unexpectedly the sole inheritor of their father’s fortune, still stands up as a character piece that tugs at the heartstrings. If nothing else, it’s a highly quotable cultural phenomenon and a showcase of actors at the top of their game.

Training Day (2001)

March 1

Here is a film so good that its influence still lingers over pop culture to this day, even if no one quite remembers why Denzel Washington is saying King Kong ain’t got shit on him. Back in 2001, it catapulted Washington to his second Oscar, this time in the leading man category thanks to the role of Alonzo, a crooked cop who takes rookie Jake (Ethan Hawke) under his wing and (seemingly) into his vices. It’s a gritty crime thriller anchored by two strong performances, including Washington at his showiest. In fact, he’s so good at elevating this movie that it sometimes feels like director Antoine Fuqua and screenwriter David Ayer have been unsuccessfully trying to duplicate it ever since.

Audrey (2020)

March 14

Audrey Hepburn so effortlessly inhabits the screen that for generations of movie lovers, she seemed unreal—a symbol of style and glamour whose feet were never meant to touch earthly clay. This, however, misses the remarkableness of her life’s journey, from starving conditions under Nazi occupation in the Netherlands during her adolescence—informing her unique frame for the rest of her life—to eventually using those unspoken memories of atrocity as the foundation to become a human rights activist late in life. In between, she had a brief Hollywood career stacked with high fashion and a shockingly high quotient of classics. In fact, she became a new image for femininity in the mid-20th century. Audrey is a somewhat rose-tinted documentary about all of this, but for those who would like to know more, it’s a lovely place to start.

Philomena (2013)

March 22

A sweet, powerful, and decidedly underrated gem, Stephen Frears’ Philomena provides a gentle touch to the true life story of Philomena Lee, a woman who spent 50 years looking for the child she was forced to give up to adoption. But even “forced” is perhaps too easy a word since in her native Ireland, she was more or less incarcerated at a convent after becoming pregnant at the age of 18, with nuns sending the child away to parts unknown without her consent. Philomena now tracks the final months of her search as an older woman through the prism of a two-hander between Judi Dench as Philomena and Steve Coogan as Martin Sixsmith, the journalist who told her story and inspired the film. It makes for a surprisingly warm and affectionate road movie.

At Eternity’s Gate (2018)

March 31

At Eternity’s Gate is far from the only film about the life of Vincent van Gogh and it isn’t the best (shout out to Lust For Life, Loving Vincent, and that one episode of Doctor Who), but it’s still worth a watch—especially for fans of the Dutch painter. With Willem Dafoe as van Gogh, Oscar Isaac as Paul Gaugin, and Mads Mikkelsen as “The Priest,” the 2018 biopic would be worth it for the performances alone. But director and artist Julian Schnabel (The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Basquiat) further elevates what is a pretty straight-forward story (albeit with a controversial ending) about the painter’s final, prolific days in the French countryside into a visually vivid and emotionally affecting tale about the joys and struggles of creative compulsion.

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my-emotional-self · 5 years

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The Mission Chapter 13

Pairings: Ari Levinson x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff

Summary: Ari Levinson tries to recruit you for Operation Brothers. While you weren’t ready for any kind of mission, you obliged after much consideration. You didn’t plan on falling in love along the way. But will Ari return those feelings? Or will his heart only be on the mission?

The truck stopped in front of the resort; Sammy, Jake and Rachel standing there with wide eyes, waiting to see what was going on.

Max hopped out of the driver’s seat and opened the door for Ari, taking you in his arms as Ari dropped down from the tall truck. He handed you back over to him and he looked up at his crew standing there. “Sammy, I need you,” Ari said with concern as he hastily walked back to the small building he shared with you.

He placed you down on his bed and gripped your hand. After getting in the truck, you had passed out and Ari still didn’t know if you were injured from all the blood covering you.

Sammy began to look over your limp body, unbuttoning your long sleeved shirt to see if he could find any injuries on you.

Jake and Rachel rushed in through the door, eyes glossy as they took in your state. “How the hell did she make it out alive?” Jake asked.

“I have no fucking idea. We saw the Hadandawa were already there when rounded a corner and we had to wait until they left. When we got there….,” Ari’s words stopped as he dug his hands through his hair, “so many dead bodies on the ground. I thought we lost her for sure but then we heard these cries and sure enough, she was there, crying over her friend Amina.” He blew out a breath and began to pace around the small space.

Sammy began to take off your shirt, wanting to inspect you further for any damaging injuries, pausing when he saw the Star of David tattoo on your wrist. “Ari,” he called his friend over. He held up your arm, showing him the tattoo. “Did you know she had this?”

“No, I had no idea.”

“Well, at least we know she’s good at keeping things a secret. We’ve been here for months and none of us knew she even had this. That’s good though, nobody else can find out she has this tattoo.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. “What’s the verdict? I mean she’s covered in blood and she passed out in the truck. She’s not waking up,” Ari asked, looking over your motionless body.

Sammy sighed, standing up. “She’s in shock Ari. She just went through a very traumatic experience. I don’t see any injuries on her, so the blood isn’t hers. My guess is someone was shot in close range to her.”

Ari’s eyes closed, his head down casted. He couldn’t imagine what you had just gone through and he held himself accountable for it all. He should have kept a better eye on you; told the team about the Hadandawa the night before when he found out they were raiding local villages.

“Rachel, will you help me get her cleaned up?” Ari asked, lifting his head to face her.

“Yeah, of course.”

Jake, Max and Sammy left the room as Ari and Rachel stripped you of your clothing, leaving you in your bra and panties. They grabbed a bucket, putting warm water in it and a few cloths to clean you of the blood as you lay motionless on the bed.

Once you were cleaned, Rachel left the room and Ari got into bed with you. He pulled the covers over your body before wrapping his arm around you. “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he whispered into your ear.

~~~

Your eyes opened with a start, your body jolting upright as you took in your surroundings; heart hammering in your chest.

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re safe,” Ari cooed from your side. Your eyes were wide as your head turned to face Ari. Everything came flooding into your mind at once and you ripped the blanket off your body, trying to find your clothes. “What are you doing?” Ari asked as he too got out of bed, worry flooding his veins.

“I have to go to her. I have to help her!” your voice cracked as you spoke, your eyes spotting your clothes lying on the floor. Nearly tripping over your tired limbs, you bent down to grab them; a firm hand on your arm.

“Y/N, you can’t go back there.”

You ripped your arm from his grasp, quickly putting your pants on. “Yes I can and I will Ari. She needs my help!”

“Stop,” he said, placing his hand on your arm yet again, but you kept on dressing, not bothering to listen to him. “Y/N STOP!”

Tears burned at your tired eyes, your body turning to face him. “Wh-why can’t you see that I need to help her?” you cried.

Ari’s large calloused hands cupped your face, his thumbs wiping at your never ending tears. His blue eyes were woeful as he took in your grief stricken face. “Sweetheart, she’s gone. There’s nothing you can do for her right now. I won’t let you end up having the same fate as her.” His voice was gently, caring as he spoke.

Your mind began to swam, their terrified screams and cries was all that you could hear. Placing your hands over your ears, you slumped to the floor before Ari could catch you and you began to rock yourself back and forth.

“Oh god-oh god NO! She-Amina-she sacrificed herself. For me. For ME Ari! Why would she do that? I’m nobody! I didn’t want her to die for me!” you choked out.

Ari could hear the heartbreak in your voice as he bent down to pick you up bridal style. You were so overwhelmed with emotions, anger, guilt, grief and sadness that you didn’t even realize he was taking off your pants.

Your body shook with each sob and cry you mustered up as you lay on your side. Ari slid up behind you, wrapping his arm around your middle and pulling you close to him. “You’re not a nobody Y/N. You are a beautiful brave and strong woman. You are the bravest woman I know.”

“Bu-but everyone I get close to leaves me. They die Ari! I have nobody anymore!”

His fingers gently tucked your hair behind your ear. You felt his breath at your ear, making your body shiver. “You have the crew. And you have me baby,” he spoke softly in your ear. “Fuck. I thought I lost you today baby. I was so scared for you. I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”

Your sobs quieted down at his words, but your heart still ached for your slain friend. With all the energy you had left, you turned in his arms to face him. Ari looked back at you with a soft expression, pain behind his eyes. With a sniffle, you raised your hand, tracing your fingers over his bottom lip, his mouth kissing your fingertips.

In a moment of grief stricken pain, there was only one thing you need right now, one thing you desired for; him.

Leaning forward, you placed your lips on his; his hold on you tightening. Your mouth molded easily to his as you wrapped your hand around his neck, pulling his head close to you. Taking his lower lip between your teeth, you nibbled lightly, earning a growl from him; the sound resonated throughout your body and ending at your core.

Your eyes locked with his, your chest heaving. “Ari, I need you.”

“What do you want baby?” he rasped between kisses.

“I want you to touch me. I want you to make love to me.”

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