can you write about y/n finally getting to wear more comfy and warm clothing since it's fall and not blazing hot anymore, and ethan finding it adorable and literally being obsessed with her
A disgruntled grumble followed by a bone cracking stretch jostled your figure a bit. Sweet brown eyes blinked tiredly in your direction, the hand that was tucked tiredly around your waist now moving to trail up the small of your back. Ethan’s fingers danced across your spine over the top of your sweater, head falling endearingly against the couch cushion. “Hmm?”
“You look cute.”
Ethan quirked an eyebrow. The smallest of smiles graced his lips as a pink tinge elicited to the high rise of his cheekbones. “Do I?”
With a small laugh, you nodded. “I love this-” lightly, you tucked on the midsection of his grey and black knit sweater, “-a lot.”
“I love you a lot.”
“I’m tired,” He countered. He squinted up at you, thick eyelashes casting gentle shadows across his cheeks as he did so. “Besides, you in sweaters? The cutest.”
You rolled your eyes, situating yourself so that you were half laying across Ethan. The sleeve of your sweater fell loosely across your knuckles, drawing the material to scratch slightly against your cheek as you tucked it to your hand. “You’re still gross.”
“One question though,” Ethan’s dark irises again become prevalent as he peered down at you. You didn’t have time to verbally articulate an inquiry until his fingers were tugging on your hand, drawing it into his palm. “Where are your hands?”
“What are you talking about?” You laughed. You craned your neck to watch as he absently toyed with the ends of your fingertips as they crooked over the sleeve. Pointedly, you wriggled your fingers.
He smothered your fingers in his own, hiking your sweater up across your wrist in the process. “Your sweater is covering them. Are you cold?”
“No,” You laughed. Within his grasp, you managed to release the clench of your fist so that your palm laid flat against his own. “Just habit. Sweater paws are cute.”
“I’m not disagreeing with that statement,” Ethan bent his fingers so that they slipped into the spaces between your own. “Just making sure you aren’t cold. Seeing as we’re inside, wearing fall clothing, covered up by a blanket.”
You shrugged, releasing your grip on his hand to dip your fingers underneath the collar of his sweater. There, you pressed your palm flat against his bare collarbone. “I don’t know. Do my hands feel cold?”
His eyes widened immediately, the stark contrast of body temperature drawing any former fatigue from him. His torso bent at the waist, moving both of you to a crunched sitting position as he grasped your wrist, drawing your hand away form him. “Why are your hands so cold?” He cried ludicrously, staring at your relaxed digits as if they would turn blue any second. “Are you a reptile or something?”
You supported yourself on your elbow, drawing the loose hanging fabric of your sweater back across your knuckle. “That’s why I keep my sweater paws.”
Ethan was silent as his eyes drew slowly across your facial features, to your hands, and back up. A slight shake of his head tousled his messy dark tendrils across his forehead. “They’re ridiculously cute, too. You can keep them.”
You emoted a playful glare, “Right. Thanks for the permission.”
“You’re welcome,” He grinned. With a full bodied movement, he grasped both of your wrists, drawing your hands against his chest as he dramatically fell back against the couch cushions. “Now that we’ve settled that you’re cuter, can we go back to sleep?”
Annnnnnd it’s done!!
I started on this bad boi on Friday and was able to finish knitting the pieces by Sunday and left Monday for the sewing.
I think for my first attempt at making this it went pretty well. The cables are different from the original virgin killer sweater, but I think it still looks nice.
I written down a pattern (wrote chicken scratch on the closes pieces of paper I could find) as I was knitting and so far its for a medium size. I’m thinking about making more of these and messing with the designs and colors just to see what I like best.
Author’s Note: I have been quietly sitting back and reading basically every bit of fan fiction for a few weeks now that I can find pertaining to Teen Wolf/Stiles/DOB/Mitch Rapp, and I finally decided to throw my hat into the ring. I get so much joy from everyone else’s work and I just really hope you can all get the same out of this.
Summary: Mitch’s fiancee, Katrina, was brutally murdered in a terrorist attack a year and a half ago. He had been hunting the perpetrators by himself for over a year, but finally came across the radar of Irene Kennedy, the Director of the CIA. She sends him to Stan Hurley to be properly trained at becoming a covert assassin on behalf of the American government. When he agreed to all of this, he never expected to meet Y/N.
Chapter Summary: Mitch begins his training with a lesson in tracking people. He ends up getting to know Y/N better and begins opening up himself.
He pulled a pair of black, tinted safety goggles off the table and raised them over his eyes. Everyone at the gun range paused, and watched Mitch take an M16 semi-automatic rifle off the table behind him and begin checking and loading it, wanting to see what the new recruit had to offer in terms of marksmanship.
You noticed a white cotton t-shirt sticking out slightly from under both ends of his dark gray, chunky sweater. You also noted him wearing a darker pair of jeans than the ones he had on yesterday, and then you realized that you were more focused on how his hair still looked good under his protective ear muffs, than what he was about to do with the high powered weapon in his hands. You heard the firearm go off in small spurts and watched as he hit dead on for his target, and the targets of the four guy’s next to him. The men murmured around the gun range, and then went back to their own shooting.
You picked up your Desert Eagle .50 Caliber Handgun and aimed it at his target, from seven rows away. He didn’t notice where your gun was pointed, as he aimed a Glock at the head on his target sheet. Before he could press his finger against the trigger, his target sheet shook. He looked up and saw a new hole, square between the eyes.
He looked behind him and saw Stan grinning and leaning against the equipment table, snickering and shaking his head. He leaned over the other way and saw you put down your gun and glasses on the table, and quickly raise your eyebrows at him, letting him know for sure, that it was you who shot his target.
“Can’t ever let them get big heads, can you Y/N?” Stan said as you walked towards the exit. You shrugged nonchalantly, and Stan patted you on the back, as you walked out of target practice. Mitch went back to shooting until the exercise was over.