Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Too Much-Mitch Rapp

Warnings: language

Being a female trainer who only trains men, I'm often underestimated. And by often, I mean by every new trainee that Hurley brings in.

All the men see is a skinny girl in a sports bra and tight leggings. Okay, maybe I dress a certain way to mess with their heads. I figured that if they could fight me in a bra and spanks, they can fight anyone in any situation.

They usually don't notice it after about a month of me putting them on their asses. Hard. Then they start to focus more on how to not look like a wimp while fighting me than on how to get in my pants.

Every guy has done that. Except Mitch Rapp. He looked at me once on his first day and didn't seem fazed. I just shrugged, not really caring. Curious, but not enough to pry.

When Hurley gave me his file, I immediately understood why Rapp wasn't acting like the other guys. He lost his fiancé in a terrorist attack. I shook off any feelings of sympathy as I closed his file and walked away.

My first interaction with him was that night, hours after I read his file. I walked past the gym but stopped when I saw the lights were on. I checked the clock on the wall and sighed when I realized the gym had closed an hour ago.

I walked in and was about to yell at whoever was in the gym but stopped when I saw Mitch Rapp in the corner. His shoulders were tense and his hips didn't move as he hit the punching bag.

"If you don't loosen up, you're going to hurt yourself."

He tensed up even more and glared at me from over his shoulder as I walked towards him. "Look, lady, I don't know who the hell you are or what makes you think you can give me corrections, but fuck off."

"I think I'm your trainer," I smirked at him. My smirk grew as his glare darkened.

"More like a bitch," he shot back.

"Good one," I scoffed. I rolled my eyes as he turned back to the punching bag and went right back to punching it with too much tightness in his shoulders.

"Seriously," I sighed as I walked over to him. "If you don't loosen up your shoulders, start to move your hips and reposition your fists, you are going to destroy any muscles, bones, and cartilage you have left."

He quickly turned around, instantly clenching his fists as he walked towards me until he was standing in front of me. "I don't care who the hell you are, princess. But what I do know is that I've trained with guys who would eat you for breakfast. So, clearly, I don't need your advice. Instead, why don't you turn around, scurry your cute little ass out of here and go get your nails done or some other girly shit?"

When he pointed at the door as he finished his misogynistic tirade, I grabbed his arm, twisting his wrist. Before he could counteract, I pulled him into me so I was under his arm and used my hip to toss him over my shoulder. I sat back up with an angry smirk as he landed on the mat, hard.

"Egotistical piece of shit," I spat at him. I stepped over him, leaving the gym, as he tried to catch his breath.

* * * * *

Ever since that lovely encounter, Rapp has kept his distance from me and been training with Hurley instead. I was currently sitting at the kitchen bar, creating a file on a potential target when someone walked in.

"Hi, Y/N," Hurley said in the voice that was always followed by him asking for a favor.

"What do you want, Hurley?" I asked, not looking up from my file.

I heard him sigh as he sat on the stool next to me. "I need you to train the new kid, Rapp."

I let out a short laugh making him look at me with a disappointed sigh. I finally looked up from my file to see he was serious.