Dylan O'Brien characters X Reader

Mitch X Reader

Title: You're an Asshole But Damn You Kiss Good.
Warnings: SMUT, fingering/handjob, unprotected sex, lil bit of dry humping, oral (female ), swearing, violence (?), shitty writing
Summary: smut....

Word count: (I can't write short chapters anymore wtf?!)

I haven't seen Mitch in months. He left for some stupid revenge plan he'd been working on for months prior to his disappearance, saying that "They will get what They deserve". That's all he would ever say to me when I bought the subject up, wondering what he's up to. Whoever "they" are, I just hope that Mitch's extensive training was enough to keep himself safe.

I'm not stupid, the man lost his fiancé only a few minutes after proposing to her, to terrorists. He was a train wreck and after that day, he never smiled since, spending almost all of his time on leaning how to shoot guns and very skilled fighting. I know what he's doing and I know who he's going after. He wants revenge on the sick people that killed Katrina. But. . . It's been months since he left.

I was there for most of the lessons Mitch took in fighting hand to hand combat, thinking it was just a good exercise at the time. He never protested about me joining him and now that I have more knowledge, I think that's because he wanted me to be able to protect myself. We've been, what you could call, best friends for years now. But ever since Katrina died, he's always been so distant towards me. Towards everyone.

I was always considered a "loner" of sorts. Mitch was pretty much my only friend, so when he disappeared, I got. . . Dangerous. Not towards other people, but to myself. I hardly left the house, spending most nights doing nothing but trying to call Mitch's phone, only to get no reply. I didn't even sleep at all the first few nights, conjuring up horrible situations that he could be in.

But, I slowly got over it. I basically accepted the fact that he was dead and I moved on. Leaving the house at least once every two days, and actually being a human being. Then I started to pick up training again until I got pretty good. I'm small and agile so I have an advantage on larger men. I've never fought against another woman, since I'm the only girl in the training centre that I go to, but I'm not complaining.

When I lost all hope on thinking that Mitch was even still alive, I saw that mop of dark brown hair and the pixelated features of his face on the television. He simply walked along the street in the background, but I knew it was him. Then I saw that all the headlines were about the CIA and something about a bomb almost wiping out the sixth fleet. When I saw him on screen I knew he was the reason for so many peoples lives being saved. But I also knew that he's working for the CIA now and I'll probably never see him again, since he will be so involved in work. I'm glad that he's alive, but I think this hurts even more.

Another month has passed and I am now jogging back home from my morning run. I slot my key into the lock of my front door and step inside, not bothering to lock the door behind me since I'll be heading out again in a few minutes. I adjust my ponytail as I drop my keys on the table, suddenly freezing as I hear footsteps coming from behind me. I spin on my heal and just as I do so, a familiar face rounds the corner.

"Mitch?" I breathe out, feeling a strange sensation in my chest as I stare at him. His hair is longer than the last time I saw him and his long beard has been shaved off recently but is now regrowing. His black t-shirt shows how much muscle he's gained over the past half a year and I can't help but stare just a little. However, his eyes are still the same; a light brown with captivating gold flecks littered within.

My heart burns for him. I want to simply wrap my arms around him and never let him leave my sight again. I'm suddenly left remembering the last time we spent together. He was throwing knives at his wardrobe door, and any time I would want to look at the pictures he was throwing said knives at, he would yell at me to sit down and stop bugging him while he has a weapon. I knew he wouldn't hurt me, it was more of a protection thing. He didn't want me to get too involved. He didn't want me to see the man that killed his fiancée.