#this is where the vodka would kick in and knock those brain cells out

[alolowrites]

On The Run

Summary: Staying in one place was never a good idea. It was risky and only caused more problems for you. However, an exception was made for Minato—a city under Shinsou’s watch.  

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I’m happy to share my sixth story for @bnhabookclub​‘s Hero Camp Bingo event. This story is by far the longest fic I’ve ever wrote. The bingo prompt I used was “Pro Hero AU”. This story is also part of the club’s Weekly SFW Prompt and the prompt used was: “I think I’m in love with you, and that terrifies me.” 

This story wiped me out. I think it’s because of the sheer length and the action scenes. However, I am very happy with this story. Hopefully you all enjoy it as well! 

Please note that the reader is a villain and there is an itty-bit of angst...

Word Count: 4.6K+

“Well, well, well…”

You were slammed against the brick wall, letting out a painful groan. Unfortunately, it was drowned out by the rowdy bar filled with boisterous drunk men. A large shadow loomed over your hunched figure, the raggedy boots stomping closer to you. One hand seized your jaw and forcibly made you look up.

“If it ain’t Vanisher herself,” he sneered, his mouth reeking of low-quality vodka. You almost hurled when his nasty breath hit your nose. The wretched stench of someone’s vomit flowing from the dumpster smelled better. Two of his buddies stayed behind him, their snickers echoing down the dirty alleyway. “You’re a pain in the ass to find, y’know that?”

“What the hell do you want, Takeshi?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” His grip tightened, and you yelped; that’s going to leave a bruise. Takeshi’s face inched closer as you glared at the disgusting henchman. “Our boss wants all the money you stole from him. Down to the very last yen.”

“Aw! Is the old fella still holding a grudge on me?” You clicked your tongue like a disapproving parent. A playful glint flashed across your eyes. “I won that money fair and square. Not my fault he’s a sore loser.”

“You swindled him with those rigged poker cards!”

“A gal’s gotta survive in this world, my friend,” your voice was sickly sweet, but also dangerously cold. Takeshi growled as you cackled at his annoyed expression. “If that means playing a little dirty with suckers like him, then so be it. Now, if we’re done here—”

The air escaped from Takeshi’s lungs when your right knee landed a harsh blow in his groin. Without stopping, you snatched the arm holding you and twisted it with brute force; he howled, not seeing the swift kick that knocked him off balance. You needed to flee quick. As you dodged the other goons’ attacks, you immediately had a place in mind and extended your palm.

A golden circle started opening in the distance. Your legs were on fire like Ingenium, and your lips nearly tasted sweet freedom when a long, slimy tongue smacked your neck. You collapsed on the pavement, the bright circle fizzling away. An unsettling feeling brewed inside your head when you couldn’t move at all. Every muscle was numb despite your brain sending SOS signals to get up.

Fuck! I forgot about his paralyzing quirk.

Heavy footsteps shook the ground. You were rolled onto your back and panicked when Takeshi’s wild eyes shamelessly raked along your body. He dared to plop himself down, his sandbag like weight crushing you with no remorse. His chapped mouth stopped near your ear and snarled, “You ain’t goin’ nowhere. I know the boss wants ya’, but he’s just gonna have to wait until I have my way with you first.”

“Aye yo, Takeshi, guess what!”

“What?” He snapped his neck over his shoulder, annoyed at being interrupted. A dazed sensation overcame him, and he stayed motionless. You cursed to yourself when you realized who was responsible for this—Shinsou Hitoshi, aka Persona Hero: Mindjack.

“Get off her and walk toward me.”

Yup, it was definitely him. You tried wiggling your fingers or toes, but to no avail; you were deadweight and glared at the dark sky. If there was anything you hated more in the world, it was being a hopeless damsel in distress. A few minutes passed until you hear Shinsou’s light footsteps approach your pitiful state.

“Well, isn’t this a sight,” he snorted at your heated face.

“If I could flip you off, I would.”

“This is the thanks I get for saving your ass?” You averted your eyes, begrudgingly waving the imaginary white flag. Shinsou bit back a grin as he kneeled beside you, checking for any injuries. “But seriously, are you okay?”

“Why do you care?”

“I'm a hero. I make sure people are not hurt,” Shinsou answered sincerely. His hand lingered above your shoulder as violet eyes stared at you. The corner of his lips curved ever so slightly when he said, “Even if the person happens to be a villain like yourself, Vanisher.”

“Well, I’m fine. Just paralyzed.” Your muscles were still frozen. Shinsou hummed as he glanced at the three men sitting obediently by the dumpster. Their hands and feet were tied, Takeshi being the only one still in a daze. The other two guys were knocked out thanks to Shinsou’s precise attacks. You let out a relenting sigh, “Thanks for…saving me. Damn pig hit a new low for pulling that shit on me.”

“He’s a coward.” You were taken aback by the venom in Shinsou’s voice. Coincidently, your fingers and toes twitched, a small sign that you were regaining control again. “It seems that he’s done it before. I’ll make sure assholes like him are off the streets permanently.”

“For once, I actually support your heroic actions,” you grinned, your entire body waking up from the not-so-peaceful slumber. Pushing yourself off the floor, you rubbed the back of your neck and felt the tiny lump where Takeshi hit you. Shinsou offered his hand, and you suspiciously glanced at him. The underground hero gave you an exasperated look. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed it and Shinsou helped you stand up.

He turned away and reached for his phone. “I’m calling the police. You should get out of here.”

“Wait,” you stepped forward, a bit confused, “You’re not turning me in?”

“You were being attacked and used self-defense,” Shinsou shrugged as he made the call. A minute later, he hung up and went to tighten the knots on the ropes. You were skeptical, wondering if this was all a trap. When you didn’t leave, Shinsou sighed and peeked over his scarf. “Look, you had a rough night. Just this once, I’m giving you a pass. Don’t be an idiot by staying here until the cops come.”

“Hmph, fine.” You opened a portal behind you. The golden sparks lit up the dreary alleyway, and one leg stepped on the other side. You paused, staring at Shinsou and murmured, “I owe you one.”

Shinsou nodded.

You disappeared just as the police sirens rang down the streets.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Staying in one place was never a good idea. It was risky and only caused more problems for you based on past experiences. From a young age, you’ve learned to fend for yourself while on the streets. Sure it was exhausting looking over your shoulders, feet ready to bounce if the scene got too chaotic. But you sucked it up if it meant avoiding jail or facing Mr. Death himself.

Neither of them was in your deck of cards called life. And your life was undoubtedly precious, so why waste it away in a rotten jail cell or cramped coffin?

You arrived at Minato City roughly eight months ago, and it was the longest time you ever stayed in one spot. Usually, you dipped by the second month, but that wasn’t the case for Minato—a city under Shinsou’s watch.

The first time you crossed paths with him, it was ironically in a back alley nestled in between two rundown buildings. You preyed on a rich salaryman with an unmistakable narcissistic attitude; he was an easy target, and it didn’t take long to get him stumbling over his feet. After knocking him out cold, you rummaged through his belongings until you sensed a shadow lurking in the darkness.  

Your eyes landed on the stranger’s bizarre getup. An air of mystery surrounded him thanks to his unruly scarf and metal mouth-mask. Stranger danger indeed, you mused while taking a step back; your survival instincts urged you to leave. The man quirked an eyebrow when he asked a question, and you foolishly answered it.

You walked forward despite your inner protests; it was as if you were under some weird spell—his quirk perhaps?—and you couldn’t break free. The stranger placed handcuffs on you and checked on the unconscious man. All your escape plans were useless until a miracle happened: an ashtray fell on your head. The glass shattered on the floor, and you let out an annoyed groan; you realized the mysterious spell was broken. Not wasting another second, you summoned a portal behind you.

“Neat trick, but I’m not a big fan of being someone else’s puppet!”

You disappeared before his scarf could capture you. The next day, you did some research on the guy and learned he was a pro hero named Mindjack, his actual name Shinsou Hitoshi. You blamed yourself for not brushing up on this information before arriving at Minato City, a rookie mistake indeed. He was trouble, and you barely escaped his grasp last night, yet you were intrigued by him. His quirk was unique, almost villain-like if he wasn’t such a goodie-two-shoes.  

Since then, you had some run-ins with said hero, whether intentional or not.    

At first, you kept your guard up around him. Shinsou taunted you to speak, but you hilariously whipped out a mini dry erase board in return; it amused him. He heard about you, an infamous thief named Vanisher who frequents the underground scene.

After two months of playing the cat-and-mouse game, you settled on befriending him; he grew on you with his deadpanned statements. One night you found Shinsou crouched on the roof’s edge, yawning as if he hadn’t slept in days. You smacked an energy bar on his head and shoved a black coffee in his hand with a perky smile. Shinsou was thrown off by your gesture, but threw a curt “thanks” your way.

It was an odd dynamic brewing between you both. Some nights Shinsou shared a quick bite with you, and other nights he tried, for the billionth time, to rein you in. For Shinsou, you weren’t a huge threat in his city, just an annoying thorn. He disapproved of your nightly shenanigans with a dry, “Stop stealing stuff from unconscious men.”

“Oh please, he’ll survive without his precious Rolex watch!”

You enjoyed the friendly banter, and you knew he did to by the mischievous glint in his eyes. Even his tone sounded playful, betraying the serious facade during his patrols. Of course, you trod the tightrope carefully with the lone hero. A small slip and you’ll fall. However, it was a risk you took every night for the last eight months. Besides, Shinsou was extraordinarily handsome, and the whole dark aura vibe suited him well.

He was the first reason why you decided to prolong your short stay in Minato City. The second reason was well—

“Hmmm,” you savored the gin cocktail, soaking in all the information with deep thought. The room was cramped and had poor ventilation. Your nose inhaled the musty odor lingering in the air, the stench making you silently groan. A single lightbulb hung above the round table and barely illuminated the man’s wrinkled face, partially hiding in the shadows.

“So…what do you say?” Mamba’s guttural voice broke the silence. Two grimy nails tapped the table as he watched your throat bob. You caught his tongue hungrily licking his lips. “Think you’re up for it?”

“A heist, huh?” You lowered your drink, and casually swung your arm behind the chair. “You sure your guys scoped out the place?”

“Down to the smallest detail.”

“Hmm…I want forty-five percent of the cut.”

He smirked, “As you wish. After all, you are valuable to us.”

“Well, don’t you know how to charm a lady,” you teased, crossing a leg over the other. “I’m in. I’ve been meaning to spruce up my dull routine. Conning rich suckers might be fun and all, but this heist sounds ten times better.”  

Mamba signaled for his drink. Your glass cups clinked as the deal was officially closed. He shifted in his seat and drawled, “A pleasure having you on board, Vanisher. You’ll be in good hands with my men. I give you my word.”

“I’m sure I will.”

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“Ready to go?” Voltage gruffed from behind you. He was an enormous man who stood as tall as an electric tower. Tiny sparks bounced in his yellow eyes. The stoic man was the driver, and he lead you to the back of the van parked outside.

The plan was simple. Voltage will drive the van to an alley that was close enough to the bank. Someone from squad B would shut off the entire security system to avoid alerting the police. You will then summon a portal that connects to the vault. From there, two men will slip through and break the metal door. They’ll pack approximately 100 million yen in large duffle bags, throwing them back through the portal.

It sounded easy enough…after all, that was the plan for today.

“Really?” You huffed, annoyed at the henchman man-spreading on your right. His twin sat across from both of you with an unreadable expression. Voltage and his partner, Benzo, ignored your complaints. Casting a glare at your ‘teammate,’ you snapped your head to focus on the road. That’s when you noticed something strange.

Benzo discreetly pushed aside his coat to take out his gun. It was common knowledge for criminals like Mamba’s soldiers to arm themselves despite having quirks. However, why did Benzo have a tight grip on his weapon now? You narrowed your eyes when Voltage took a left turn instead of right, fueling your suspicions even more.

“The GPS broken, Voltage?”

Silence.

And then…an attack.

You dodged a crystal dagger that came from your right. Only his hand was crystallized and you twisted his arm, the henchman howling like an injured wolf. His twin lunged forward with the speed of a bullet train. Your back slammed against the van at the guy’s sheer force. With wide eyes, you felt his vice-like grip crush your throat. The air was being sucked right our your lungs, and your fingers frantically scratched his skin.

Not giving up, you delivered three harsh blows to his groin. He stumbled back, but refused to let go of you. A growl escaped your lips when you kicked his ribs; with his grip gone, you charged at him, striking a pressure point by his neck—he was out like a light.

Out of the blue, Man-spreader caught you in a chokehold. He was noticeably weaker due to the injured right arm, and you took advantage of this. Benzo, however, shifted his body in his seat while snarling, “Keep her still! I’m gonna knock her out with this sleeping bullet! Viper wants her alive!”

Viper?! Damn it!

You elbowed man-spreader’s chest without stopping; an intense head-butt was your final move. Hearing the gun click, you swiftly used the unconscious stone block as your human shield to avoid the bullet. Tossing the guy toward the front, you activated your portal and rolled down the street. There was no time to think of a safe place, just that you needed to get out that hellish van.

A few scratches marked your cheek. The sound of wheels screeching against the concrete forced you to leap on your feet and run. You didn’t have enough energy to summon another portal, the fight draining almost everything in your system. But you still had some power left, and you’ll use it as your last resort.

For now, you settled on running the hell out of the van’s sight. Voltage and Benzo were hunters who wouldn’t rest until you’re captured. But there was no way in hell you were facing Viper again. Damn old geezer was still holding onto a deep grudge with that poker game. You gritted your teeth, the metallic taste of blood overwhelming your mouth. This might be a problem you couldn’t easily vanish away from…but it didn’t hurt to try.

All the buildings blurred as your feet pounded against the pavement. You skidded around the corner, the van right on your tail. A shot rang from a distance and you hissed; the bullet grazed your thigh. When you glanced up, your mouth dropped as a blue truck pulled out into the street.

Your only warning was: “Get out of the way!”

The driver, plus his companions, scurried like frighten mice when they noticed the white van dashing down the road. You slipped underneath the vehicle, but wasted no time staying on the floor. A loud crash roared from behind. You never looked back and arrived at a busy pedestrian street, bulldozing through the crowd.

Where’s a good place to hide?!

A piercing shriek ruined the city’s peaceful scenery. You peeked over your shoulder and screamed when an electric whip hit the lamp-post. The sudden attack made you lose your footing. More people yelled and rushed away from the danger, ignoring you in the process.

“I had it with this stupid chase, Vanisher!” Another whip crushed the window from a residential building. Voltage charged up his arm, the electric sparks spazzing out of control. He had you in his sight. “You’re coming with me, dead or alive!”

“Oh yeah? How are you gonna do that?” That wasn’t me…

“Why you little—”

Shinsou grunted as he lashed out his binding cloth to ensnare his target. Voltage’s power weakened once in a trance state, and the pro hero tugged the villain to the broken road. Shinsou kept the man tied up with his scarf, realizing it was the only thing strong enough to keep him immobile. You struggled to sit up. Shinsou demanded someone to call the police as he rushed toward your injured body.

“Hey, don’t move,” Shinsou gently held you in place. There was a purple bruise forming around your neck and a little bit of blood trickling down your chin. Shinsou frowned at what he saw. “What the hell happened?”

“Just got some bad blood with a sore loser,” you flashed him a crooked grin, the pain finally settling in. A cry for help interrupted your conversation, and Shinsou’s head snapped up. The building was on fire; Shinsou let out a curse. He couldn’t wait for other pro heroes or the fire department to show up. With no choice, he carried you away from the danger zone. “H-hey, what are you doing?”

“Stay here!”

Shinsou ran into the flaming pits of hell. You slowly rose to your feet, swaying back and forth on the sidewalk. Right now was the perfect opportunity to flee the scene. There were no cops or other pro heroes around, and Voltage was brainwashed. Yet, the deadly flames bursting through the shattered window paralyzed you. The only thing on your mind was Shinosu risking his life to save those people without any backup.

Damnit! Ugh…just this once!

You summoned a portal and stepped inside. The black smoke clogged the apartment, making everything harder to see or breathe. You covered your lower face and searched for anyone in this furnace. You stepped into another room, and your eyes spotted four figures huddled in the corner. Shinsou stood in front and tried thinking of a way out.

“Hey!”

“I told you to stay put!”

“Not gonna happen,” you shouted, opening a weak portal by the family. “Run toward it now! I can’t hold it for too long!”

The family escaped unscathed. However, Shinsou refused to leave without you. Always the hero, you huffed at his stupidity. Through your blurred vision, you watched as he trudged forward. Unlike you, Shinsou had his mask, which acted as an impromptu breathing apparatus. But it hardly kept the thick smoke from invading his lungs. You extended your hand, and Shinsou’s fingers stretched as if his life depended on it.

A cracking noise skittered across the ceiling with a piece falling on Shinsou. You screamed, jumping over a line of fire to rescue him. Your throbbing arms lifted the broken piece off the hero’s back. His pulse was dangerously low, and you slung his limping arm over your shoulders. The flames kept growing, consuming everything that stood in its path. If you didn’t act quick, it would eat you and Shinsou too.

Your hand created a portal close enough to where you both stood. The distorted golden ring fizzled, a sign that your body was at its limit. But you wouldn’t give up. Fives steps were all you need to get the heck out of here. The fire roared in the background, furious at your disobedience for trying to escape the madness. Except when did you ever listen?

You dragged Shinsou through the portal and collapsed on the sturdy sidewalk. The ring closed in seconds. Your lungs inhaled the delicious air with immense gratitude. You ripped off Shinsou’s mask and repeatedly slapped his stubble cheek. “C’mon, c’mon! Wake up!”

A cough made you relax. Shinsou’s eyelids were barely opened when he croaked, “W-why?”

“I owe you one, remember?”

The corner of Shinsou’s mouth curled, a gurgled chuckle greeting your ears. You stifled a laugh and rolled on your back, staying put until the emergency response team arrived.

You remained in Minato City for eight months. Another couple of days wouldn’t hurt.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Minato City’s nightlife was buzzing with excitement, and there were no signs of stopping. People flocked to their favorite bars, hoping to let loose after a stressful week at work. Salarymen drowned themselves in alcohol and cigarettes without a care in the world. It was the perfect recipe for you to con another unfortunate victim, but you decided to sit this night out.

You gazed at the city’s beautiful skyline. The lights twinkled like precious diamonds on display at a high-end jewelry store. However, you admired the sight from afar since tonight was the last time you’ll see it. By tomorrow, you’ll be in another city to lay low for a while. Keeping yourself off the grid was the best option to throw off your scent from Viper’s nose.

A pebble rolled beside your boot.

“Surprised you’re not down at the bars preying on your next money target.”

“Not really feeling it tonight,” you yawned, sparing a glance at Shinsou. He was wearing his usual hero attire, the mask resting underneath his chin. It gave you a perfect view of his chiseled jawline. You returned your sights on the bright streets and ignored the fluttering feeling in your heart. You coolly remarked, “I see you’re looking well.”

“Injuries weren’t so bad; I experienced worse ones before.”

“I don’t know about you, but it sounds like you’re trying to impress me.”

A deep chuckle was his only response. You raised an eyebrow when Shinsou stood beside you, almost too close than the previous encounters. Your hand clenched inside your coat pocket. Tonight’s weather forecast called for temperatures hovering just above the freezing point. Yet, your skin was feeling hot, and it wasn’t because of the black wool keeping you warm.

“The police interrogated the guy who attacked you,” Shinsou shared, making you still for a second before relaxing. “Heard his name is Voltage with connections to the underground crime lord called Mamba. So far, he’s not giving anything up.”

“And he won’t,” you sighed, watching a drunk guy whistle at a woman who passed by. “Viper and Mamba: they’re brothers who control the drug trade in their respective territories. I guess someone tipped Mamba off that I was in Minato City, and he lured me in with a false heist scheme.”

You leaned against the roof’s edge. “If I didn’t think so quick on my feet, I probably would have been in Viper’s clutches by now.”

“You should speak with the police,” Shinsou ignored your loud snort and pressed forward, “If you cooperate with the investigation, they’ll help you. Maybe place you in a witness protection program—”

“Don’t be so stupid, Shinsou. This is a highly organized crime ring we’re talking about!”

“The police can protect you!”

“No, they can’t.” You raised a finger at the hero, wagging it as you predicted his next response. “And neither can you. Besides, I don’t need someone protecting me. I’ve lived my entire life fending for myself, and I know what I’m doing.”

“And how has that worked out for you, huh?”

“Pretty fine until I made the stupid mistake of staying here!” You jabbed his chest before growling away. Two hands raked through your hair as you paced back and forth. You stopped, shooting daggers at Shinsou. “Like I said, I got bad blood with a few people. I’ve done shit I’m not too proud of, but that’s just life on the streets. You do whatever it takes to survive, even if it means constantly being on the run.”  

You spun away from Shinsou, your back straight as a rule and body visibly closed off. Puffs of white smoke slipped through your lips. The wind chill was not very merciful tonight as it froze your poor ears. You closed your eyes and heard Shinsou shuffle closer, his presence growing stronger by the second. His hand was gentle on your shoulder, almost as if he didn’t want to frighten you with the sudden touch.

Your mouth clamped shut when he whispered your name into the brisk night. You clenched your hand tighter when he pleaded, “You don’t have to keep running.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then why did you stay here?” You bristled at the question, and Shinsou noticed. “Why didn’t you run away like before?”

“Because of you.” Shinsou’s hand twitched at the answer. Releasing a shaky breath, you turned around with conflicted eyes. For the first time in your life, your walls were crumbling down—the same ones that shielded you from the cruel world since childhood. It was too late to take back what you said, so you choked out, “I didn’t leave because I think I’m in love with you…and that terrifies me.”

A feathery thumb brushed your cheek. You gazed into his violet eyes; they were striking, yet carried a sense of fondness you’ve never seen before. He never said a word, but you were under his spell. Shinsou’s warm breath caused your entire face to flush once you realized how dangerously close he was in your bubble.

He admitted, with a raspy voice, “I feel the same way about you, except I’m not scared.”

“You’re stupid to think that way.”

“So be it.”

Time slowed as Shinsou lowered his lips and pressed them against yours. The kiss was sweet. Gentle. Innocent. You forgot about everything that was stressing your mind out. All your focus was on his lips—they were incredibly warm and soft and moved in a tender pace. You reciprocated the kiss with a tiny smile, your left hand clinging on his scarf. Shinsou grinned at your impatient tug; you were always so demanding.

However, after months of inhaling his rich scent, you were eager to taste him. You weren’t disappointed when you caught the sweet blend of dark cherry and black raspberry sprinkled along his mouth. A fresh jolt of excitement traveled down your spine. Shinsou’s arm wrapped around your waist, securing you in place. For a moment, you did not want him to let go—you didn’t want to run away from this safe haven.

If only the circumstances were different.

“You know I can’t stay…”

Shinsou didn’t say anything. His eyes, however, spoke volumes of how he felt about your decision. As much as it pained him to do so, he loosen his grasp on you. A portal opened not too far from where you both stood. You squeezed Shinsou’s hand and gave him a sad smile, the corners of your lips barely reaching your eyes.

The golden sparks lit up the dark rooftop, and one leg stepped on the other side. You paused, staring at Shinsou one last time, whispering, “Goodbye.”

Shinsou nodded mutely.

You disappeared into the portal, going on the run once again.

Sixth prompt is crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading! 

Previous prompt: Boy Next Door

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

[phantomphangphucker]

The Whole Ass Fic A.K.A ClockWork Is Paying At Least One Person Hush Money

Vlad’s dumbest plot yet leads to a grade A gravy bowl of a dumb reveal. Danny’s class feels left out, Wes is literally left out, and ClockWork is forcing me to not leave them out at gunpoint.

Now that y’all have voted, I present to you, the Whole Ass Fic

Danny was having a nice day, he honest to the Core was. But then a blue portal half fucking blinded him, a startled Mr. Lancer accidentally threw a whiteboard marker into his eye, and Dash finally succeeded in hitting him -in the eye of all places, ugh- with a spitball. All of this followed by a -probably not quiet- mutter of, “ClockWork end me”. In short, he had already filled his quota for ocular trauma today.

But looking to the front as a -very not cheesetastic- certain someone stops monologuing, he’s experiencing a-whole-ass-nother kind of ocular trauma.

Danny gets up from his desk and slowly walks up to the front, eyes filled with disappointment and the residual energy of his three breakfast Red Bulls, “okay, so you’re telling me-”, Danny gestures erratically to Vlad, who's tied up on the floor and in ghost form, “-that you overshadowed ClockWork-”, gesturing even more erratically at ClockWork -who’s just sitting on a desk and inspecting their nails- but Danny maintains wide-eyed eye-contact with Vlad instead of attempting down the rabbit hole of why ClockWork is still here. Glaring at floor Vlad harder, somehow, “-so you could travel to the future, to team up with your future self and bring him back here-”, Danny points both hands at the floor a bit aggressively, “-so you could tag-team pulverise a teenager-”.

While Vlad rolls his eyes, not even slightly apologetic or willing to admit that throwing fists with teens being his number one past time was arguably pathetic. Danny gestures at the future Vlad, who’s glaring bloody murder at normal timeline floor Vlad, “-but said future you instead assaulted ClockWork”, facepalming and muttering into his hand, “least I know this future you really is you, being enough up his own ass to even consider attempting to do that”, looking back to floor Vlad, “so you used ClockWork’s powers at random and just came back to this timeline?”.

Kwan adds in, “through the ceiling”.

ClockWork smirks, “he got quite lucky in that regard. Not quite luck though”, Danny sighs exasperatedly at ClockWork when they wink with a smirk. Anything involving ClockWork required a lack of luck, not a wealth of it; that, or making a collection of the stupidest decisions you’ve ever made. Considering floor Vlad’s state of looking like an extra for a truly terrible Vampire BDSM film, Danny’s going with the latter.  

Floor Vlad manages to spit out his gag, “well they somehow tossed me out of their body immediately after! I mean the audacity! And this Cheesehead-”, jerkily attempting to nod or point at the scruffy-looking future Vlad, “-gets more pissed and assaults me, ME! Instead of you”.

Future Vlad kicks him and snarls, “it’s been two years in this timeline! TWO! I stopped with the stupid fiddlediddling after six months!”, turning his head to the side and mumbling, “sure everyone close to him had to die first, but that’s a moot point”.

Dash snorts, “why would a ghost even want to assault Fentit. And wait, what? People died?”.

Danny meanwhile, throws his hands out to the side, “of course that happened!”, then gesturing towards ClockWork, “you can’t overshadow ClockWork, that’s not even possible! They literally had to have allowed you to”, actually turning to glare slightly at ClockWork, “why, I haven’t a shot-glass of pennies close to a clue”. Danny then blinks and slowly looks at the future Vlad, his words finally registering; while Danny also simultaneously massacres his last brain cell, “wait....you’re that Vlad? As in the one that technically murdered me? The one that sort of caused the near extinction of humanity and ghosts? The one that basically saw the big red ‘DO NOT PUSH, THIS IS A STUPID IDEA’ button, slammed your fist on it, and activated the apocalypse? The one that stabbed past me when I tried to fix the future? Sure I requested it, but ya still did it”.

Mr. Lancer, who had been progressively going more wide-eyed, “Crime and Punishment?!?!?! I mean, go off I guess”.

While Danny scratches his head nonchalantly, muttering more to himself, “also the one that gave me any faith in past you ever being capable of being good”.

Floor Vlad sputters, wiggling in his bindings like a worm, “how is murdering you what it takes to make you have even an ounce of faith in me?!?”, floor Vlad looks to future Vlad, “you can’t judge me, you fudge-bucket of a hypocrite”.

Danny rolls his eyes and snorts, “that’s not even pot calling kettle black, that’s a wad of chewed gum calling a fork an unchewed stick of gum, and actually expecting that insult to stick”. Danny then squints and turns to ClockWork, “wait”, pointing emphatically at future Vlad, “how does he even exist?!?!? That future was literally destroyed?!?”.

Future Vlad squints at him, looking affronted, “you mean you destroyed my existence too?!?”.

Danny turns to him and waves his hands around wildly, “THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU UNRAVEL TEN YEARS OF TIME! THOSE THINGS AND PEOPLE GO POOF!”.

ClockWork sticks up a finger, “that’s not how time works”.

Danny and both Vlads’ turn to them, both Danny and future Vlad pointing aggressively, “YOU STAY OUT OF THIS! THIS DOESN'T CONCERN YOU!”.  

Nathan mutters, “or the rest of the class apparently”.

ClockWork smirks, “pretty sure the author disagrees on that one”. Everyone squints at them but goes back to bickering. Future Vlad points a little aggressively at Danny, “you were just supposed to fix the past! Not obliterate me!”.

Danny throws his hands up, “sacrifices had to be made! That’s what good guys do!”, gesturing at floor Vlad, “plus! You’re still here! And still A CRAZED UP FRUITLOOPY DICK!”.

Floor Vlad, looking a bit insulted, “language my boy”. Danny just looks down at him and knocks one of the desks on him; some kids water bottle -who the heck uses glass water bottles? Seriously?- smashing apart all over his face.  

Future Vlad pinches his nose and gestures at floor Vlad, looking at Danny, “that’s because he hasn’t been horribly traumatised....yet”.

Floor Vlad sputters, “yet?”, before scrunching up his face and licking his cheek, “is this vodka?”.

Future Vlad glares down at him, “you don’t know suffering”, getting into floor Vlad’s face a little and shaking his finger violently, “you don’t know the meaning of the word”, while Danny mutters, “neither do you, by the way”, future Vlad keeps talking, “and you really think you can collect all these stupid cheese curd plots and not turn yourself into curdled milk?”.

Floor Vlad rolls his eyes, “says the murderer”.

Danny rolls his eyes almost in sync with floor Vlad’s eye-roll, “oh like you haven’t killed anyone”.

Mr. Lancer coughs, “um? There are other people here you know. And some of us don’t appreciate casually talking about murder at-”, glancing at his watch, “-nine a.m. in the morning”.

Floor Vlad glances at him, “no one but us and dear Maddie qualify as people”.

Danny sputters incredulously while ClockWork points at floor Vlad, “and that is not how classifications of species and words work”. No one so much as acknowledges the arguably most power-being ever this time.

Floor Vlad looks back to future Vlad, “and Daniel’s the one that messes everything up. Not me!”, glaring at Danny and muttering, “I would have had a perfectly viable clone otherwise”.

Future Vlad shakes his head and gestures aggressively, “you cloned him?!?!?!”, throwing his hands up and walking around, “this me’s insane! Wonderful!”.

Valerie snickers into her hand, “I want to get involved but...”, before gaping and sputtering incoherently to herself about Dani.

Danny snorts, “you hadn’t already figured that out when he decided to abduct and control the body of the dude who controls time itself and oversees everyone’s futures. A literal living legend and basically a god?”, shrugging and sounding nonchalant, “and yeah, technically we have a kid now. My genetics, but Vlad made her. So technically, we’re both her parents”, kicking floor Vlad, “I should sue you for child support”.

ClockWork nods, “and you would win actually”.  

Danny looks tickled green, while floor Vlad shouts dramatically, “WHAT!?!?!?”. Future Vlad is just walking in a circle throwing his hands out randomly and making faces.

Dash mutters, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but, the damn twinks life would make a great soap opera”. ClockWork smirks ever so slightly at this.

Floor Vlad screws up his face and wiggles in the bindings some before squinting at Danny, “wait a biscuit buttering second, how do you even know about the ghost from the clocktower?”, sputtering and squirming, “how do you know their name?!? Even I didn’t! And you know their powers! Daniel what in the name of Gouda?!?”.

Danny deadpans, “oh don’t you use that tone with me, mister. You’re not my father”. While ClockWork smirks, “my name was actually the first thing he said, you just conveniently ignored that for plot purposes”.

Danny just speaks right over them and gestures at ClockWork, “and of course I do! They’re my Time Daddy!”.

Everyone goes silent immediately and you could hear a pin drop. Instead, a different voice breaks the silence, “wow! Didn’t know you had another dad, son!”.

Both halfas and the ex-halfa turn slowly and look at the doorway, where one Jack Fenton is standing and munching on fudge like he’s engrossed in an intense tv show.

Danny blinks and sputters, “how long have you been there?”.

ClockWork smirks, “since almost the beginning of this fic”. Danny glances at them, “that doesn’t make sense”. ClockWork shrugs, “well the audience might appreciate knowing, and I aim to please”.

Danny speaks thick with enough sarcasm to kill a lesser being twice over, and as if to prove this point floor Vlad starts hacking like someone force-fed him nails, “oH yEaH tHiS hAs BeEn A rEeEeEaAaAaLlLlL pLeAsUrE”, before squinting, “...what audience?”.

Star slams her face into her desk, “oh my Zone, seriously?”.

While Jack pipes up, “since Danno repeated vampire Vlad’s story back to everyone with so much disbelief I really couldn’t bring myself to interrupt”, standing and practically throwing the plate of fudge -having forgotten he even had it- when he throws his hands out to the side.

Mr. Lancer sighs and speaks as the fudge slowly smears down the classroom wall, “this was not in my job description, but thanks for the reminder why I don’t moonlight as a babysitter anymore”.

Jack, sounding way too happy for this situation and oddly not looking angry or even bothered, “and I’ve never heard my boy so passionate before!”, tapping his chin and looking at the two Vlads’, “though I do have to say. What the fuck is wrong with you V-man”.

Danny grumbles, “welcome to the life of having a half-ghost, who’s three nuts short of a fruitcake, that wants to aggressively be your uncle and/or father”, before sputtering incoherently over his dad swearing.

Jack tilts his head, looking like a confused puppy, “but, I’m your dad?”, quirking an eyebrow at ClockWork, “one of your dads?”. ClockWork looks like they just got blessed by a god... a god other than themselves anyway.

While Danny stares down at the floor unsure if he should feel deep horror or boyish wonder. Muttering, “did I just result in ClockWork getting adopted into my family through arguably convoluted and highly illogical means?”.  

ClockWork makes a face that is the closest thing to insulted Danny’s actually seen on their face, “it was my belief we were already kin”.

Danny sputters and waves his hands around erratically, trying desperately to back-pedal, “what, I, er, no, I mean yes! Yes! Totally fam!”.

Valerie can’t help but let out her inner gossip rich girl mode, “ooooooooooo, someone’s in trooooouuuubbbbllllleeee”.

Floor Vlad sputters in utter disbelief, it was he that was supposed to be gaining new family members here! Not that oversized puff pastry! “This, that, THIS IS NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO GO!”.

Future Vlad blinks at Jack, “why are you not freaking out over the ghosts?”.

Star sighs, “are they really just ignoring that none of us have been freaking out?”.

Jack shrugs, “one’s tied up and the other gave me fudge”. Floor Vlad just shrieks in frustration and disbelief. While Danny gives a dramatic thumbs up to ClockWork, even going so far as to use a little ecto-energy to make his thumb sparkle like some anime bullshit.

Future Vlad kicks floor Vlad but speaks to Jack, “well if it’s anything, I’m not a ghost or half of one”.

Multiple people mutter, “half ghosts are a thing?”, while Valerie grins like a loon.

Floor Vlad shrieking, “WHAT?!?!?!”.

Future Vlad looks down at him but points at Danny, “he ripped out and ate Plasmius”.

Mr. Lancer grimaces and has to physically restrain himself from assaulting Kwan when he actually sticks his hand up and asks, “what’d that taste like? You know, for reasons”. No one’s honestly surprised at this point, when the bickering guys’ just act like the entire class are just extras added in after the main plot was established and without the main casts knowledge.

Danny blinks and gestures wildly at his dad, “are we just ignoring the uniformed third partly?!?”.

Mr. Lancer glares, “the class has been here the entire time”.

ClockWork smirks, “Vlad’s the authors' bitch right now so...yes”.

While floor Vlad gapes at Danny, “YOU DID WHAT NOW?!?!?”.

Danny throws his hands up exaggeratedly, “NOT IN THIS TIMELINE!”. While Vlad just quietly sputters about how Daniel could and even would, apparently, eat him. Danny has to severely resist spewing out a list of vore jokes at this. While ClockWork mutters with a smirk, about how the only reasons Danny’s not doing that is because the author’s tired of their phone crashing every time they try to write them.

Future Vlad points aggressively at floor Vlad, “we were the ones who thought ripping out his humanity would be a good idea!”.

Jack adds in some side commentary, “yeah, please don’t do that to my son”.

Floor Vlad mutters at the floor, “I need some bloody scotch”, before looking up at future Vlad and shouting, “WHY WOULD I DO THAT!”.

ClockWork points at floor Vlad, “the vodka hasn’t totally evaporated off your face yet, so you’ve got options. I have no pity for you”.

Floor Vlad glares at them, “I have standards”.

Half the class saying, “you sure about that?”.

Danny and future Vlad respond to floor Vlad in unison, with matching deadpan tones and judgmental facial expressions, “because, for all accounts and purposes, you are a sociopath”.

ClockWork sticks a finger up, “this is not how psychological diagnosis works”, gesturing at the class, “for one, patient confidentiality is a basic prerequisite, not an option”.

Nathan makes a mocked delighted gasp, “did we just get acknowledged?”. While Danny and future Vlad share a look tm.

Floor Vlad sneers, “rather that over an overgrown oaf, a self-sacrificial fool, a weak old man, or whatever is up with the time ghost”.

Danny glares while future Vlad socks floor Vlad in the face for that. Danny off-handed commenting, “‘Observant puppet’ is really the only insult that applies”, looking at ClockWork, “why aren’t the eyeballs up in a tissy about this anyway?”.

ClockWork smirks, “the author has decided they no longer exist”.

Danny blinks, “what kind of power does this ‘author’ have????”.

ClockWork mutters ominously, “the ability to outrun writers' block...for now”.

Danny ignores ClockWork out of slight horror and feeling like someone’s threatening him with another? dissection fic if he doesn’t stop encouraging ClockWork to derail the plot. Turning his attention to the two Vlads’ just in time to catch Valerie getting up and smacking both Vlads’ over the head, which just turns into an all-out fistfight. Well okay, floor Vlad is just squirming in his bindings and kicking like a feral rabbit, but still.

Valerie steps back and nudges Danny with a wily smirk, “who you wanna bet on to win?”.

Danny snorts, “future Vlad, based on sheer tenacity”.

ClockWork smirks and points a finger at the ceiling, “that’s my bet”, another portal opening up and yet another Vlad falling through and landing on the two others in a heap; knocking all three out, floor Vlad finally transforming back human. Danny looks to them, “the fuck is wrong with you?”.

While Maddie’s voice mutters from the doorway, “oh my Zone, Vlad?!?!”. Standing next to her is yet another interviewer from Genius Magazine: For Women Geniuses, By Women Geniuses; who slowly lifts up her phone and snaps a photo, while patting the pocket where her recorder is.

The next day Danny inexplicably gets pelted in the face -which, coming full circle, predictably stabs him in the eye in the process- by a magazine as soon as he steps through Mr. Lancer’s classroom doorway. Danny just lets it flop onto the floor unceremoniously, due to his veins being clean out of the consciousness juice that was Red Bull and thus incapable of caring about those pesky things called reflexes.

Danny sighs down at the abused magazine while slowly and dramatically covering his right eye. Sighing even louder at the cover somehow making everyone but the Vlads’ look kinda hot and ClockWork just being a black hole with a wicked grin -how they still seemed visually attractive is beyond Danny’s comprehension. The title reading ‘[REDACTED] Ghosts, Time Travel, And Illegal Cloning. Oh My!’, with the wonderful subtitle of ‘What Happens When Science Grows Fangs!’, and the sub-subtitle of ‘See Some Scientific Sin!’.

Danny’s sure the ‘[REDACTED]’ has something to do with ClockWork and them messing with an entire companies autocorrect function, but he decidedly doesn’t want to know.

Wes kicking in the classroom door seconds later only to pelt Danny with yet another copy of the magazine and shriek, “WHY!?!?!?! WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME!?!?!?!”.

Danny looks down at the magazine, which magically opened up to the page with the article when it landed, and snorts. It looked like someone had applied ‘[REDACTED]’ on the paper very liberally and with a pepper grinder. Danny then slowly turns and points at Wes with a massive shit-eating grin, “that’s what you get for being weak enough to fall victim to flu season. Sleepy sniffling sleuths earn no secrets”.

At this, the whole class laughs like they’re just a laugh track and an edited in fake audience.

END.

[tired-college-student-writing]

The Merchant of Death isn't just for Show: Chapter 3

Summary: Tony Stark was one of the most well-connected people on the Globe, and yet there are places you wouldn’t expect him to have connections, the Assassin Underworld being a prime example. Tony lives to surprise, however.

Part 1

Part 2 

Part 3 (HERE) 

Part 4

_______________________________________________________________________

1997

_______________________________________________________________________

“How did a Marine become a hitman?”

“It’s complicated,” John mumbled into his bourbon.

“It always is.” Tony just sighed as he tossed back his scotch.

“Cheers to that,” Happy sassed, lifting his glass up mockingly.

Tony’s meeting with Winston had just ended and he was honestly expecting his new buddy to be a bit more talkative. Most assassins were, Tony had found out over the years. In the Underworld banter and quips were like bread and butter to the members of the society. Snark was a simple pleasure in the painful life of an assassin.

John wasn’t like that, however. John was quiet, soft-spoken, each move calculated, no matter how mundane. Every answer he had given Tony had been five words or less, and he had yet to ask any question himself.  He could see the military training in this man, but there was something more…

“Is the interrogation over now?”  

Tony blinked in surprise, “Interrogation?”

John nodded, “Isn’t that what this is? You're trying to figure out who wormed their way into Winston’s favorite position? Figuring out how best to utilize my skills to freak out Winston?”

Tony’s smile fell as Happy let a low whistle and grabbed the empty glasses and with a call of, “I’m getting another round,” He fled the table.  

The tension was thick around the table as Tony gulp downed his drink.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Tony snorted, “You just did what every fucking person does, and Happy knows it pisses me off.”

“Should I warn Winston about me disappearing after I leave the Continental?” John asks, and with anyone else in this field Tony would assume they were joking, but there was nothing but serious intent in John’s voice. John recognized him as a threat it seemed. That was certainly a change. Even being out of disguise now, no one really treated him as a threat, more like an oddity.

“No,” Tony said, “Happy just asked the same question when he started working for me and still feels guilty about it.”

John didn’t say anything just tilted his head to the side slightly. If Tony didn’t know this man was a talented assassin he would compare him to a puppy… maybe a trained attack dog.

Tony just shook his head, “You do know who I am, right? Your accent is American. My face is basically plastered on every tabloid every other weekend here. ”

John gave a shrug, “I figured you were either narcissistic enough to talk about yourself extensively, or you would be tired of the questions. Since you didn’t say anything about yourself so I chose not to be rude,”

The billionaire couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping his lips.

“Well, that’s a first.” He admitted, “Usually people are too curious to give a rat’s ass about being polite.”

“I’ve been told I’m a bit of an oddity,” was the only explanation he was given.

“Well Johnny Boy,” Tony ignored the raised brow at the nickname, “ There’s one thing you should know about me even if you don’t want to  ask questions.”

They stared at each other for a long moment as Tony tapped his glass with his nails.

“Don’t assume I’m trying to manipulate anyone. If I’m manipulating someone, you’ll know, or if I did try and manipulate you, you would know until it’s too late.”

_______________________________________________________________________

1998

_______________________________________________________________________John blinked as a blond stormed up to his table at the hole in the wall bar he was staking out for his contract.

“Can I help you?”

The redhead scowled and slid into the seat, slams ten golden coins onto the tabletop. His eyes flash up to the face of the agitated man. His hair was a dusty blonde and slicked back, his bright blue eyes burned into him but his face was undeniably familiar about his face and his stance even if he wore a much cheaper suit then last time.

“Tony?”

“Antonio,” The man snapped, “Antonio Carbonell.”

John had no problem reading between the lines. This was the disguise Stark used for his work in the Underworld, the one he had mentioned their first meeting.

“What is this for?”  He asked instead, pocketing the coins before anyone else could see them.

Tony huffed, stealing John’s drink and taking a swig, “I visited the old man today.”

John just raised an eyebrow.

Tony rolled his eyes, “Winston, geez keep up, Johnny Boy.”

John felt his lips twitch upwards as the pieces slid into place, “It has only been nine months. Much closer to three months than two years.”

“I know!” Tony whined, “I found him getting his roots touched up by some barber! His roots, John! Like he could actually stop us from finding out he was greying!”

“Well,” John couldn’t help but chuckle, “Your trips to Morocco probably didn’t help matters.”

Tony’s jaw fell slack for a beat before his face morphed into a bright grin, “Oh my trips to Morocco tipped him over the edge? What about your trip to Vianna? Or the one to Syria? No one really figured out what happened with al-Eryani did they?”

“No.”

Tony couldn’t help, but enjoy the lack of arrogance in the man’s voice, the absence of smug pride that so many assassins had in their voices, just a simple emotionless no.

“What are you drinking, cause it’s amazing and I want more?”  

_______________________________________________________________________

2000

_______________________________________________________________________

John should have known that this was going to happen when Tony, disguised as always, showed up at his door with that cheeky grin like he had nearly every month since their second meeting.

He should have known it when Tony ordered his seventh scotch at the third bar he managed to convince John to come to for a ‘bar crawl’.

He should have known that when he saw those punks following them between bars after Tony hustled them at the pool table, especially when he saw one that he recognized from McGowan’s men.

And yet he really didn’t expect to be choked against a bar top tonight, the only gun Tony allowed him to bring on their night out kicked away if he was being completely honest.

His hands scrambled across the bartop behind him as his vision blurred. He found something hard and long, it would do. He lashed out feeling the hands fall from his throat as his weapon stabbed through his jugular vein. Blinking the spots away from his vision he saw the man collapses, dark crimson blood pooling on the floor already under the down man. In his fist was a pencil.

A pencil, really?

Better then nothing, John thought as he ran to where Tony was smashing a bottle of vodka over one of his attacker’s head. John quickly grabbed one of the men trying to attack from behind around the head and drove the pencil into his eye socket, felling it burst into goopy bloody slush as the man screamed, falling to the floor. John would have tried to push it further, into the man’s brain but he could feel the wood creaking under his fingers. He would let him bleed out instead.

“Oi Wick!”

The assassin only needed to glance up for a second to see Tony kicked the last assailant over towards him. Without even thinking he held the pencil down on the table to his left and slammed the man down on it, feeling it cutting through the back of his neck and luckily diving between two vertebrae, severing the man’s spinal cord.

Panting they met each other eyes and Tony broke down laughing. Wick just rolled his eyes.

“Tony.”

“You went full Austin Powers on those guys, Johnny boy!”

“Tony.”

“You killed three guys with a pencil! A pencil! That was probably the second most badass thing I’ve ever seen you do!”

“Is the first still eating Harold's chili without getting sick?”

“Absolutely, I doubt you’ll be able to top that.”

“Господи…”

The quiet word drew his attention to the only table that didn’t flee when fists started flying. There was a group of five men, staring wide-eyed at them. They were familiar.

“You’re Viggo and Adram Tarasov,” Tony said, confirming John’s thoughts, “What are you gentlemen doing here on this fine evening?”

“Viggo became a father yesterday,” Adram replied weakly, “Business going well, Antonio?”

Tony glanced down at the bodies, “Oh this? Nah this was just a personal issue.”

“Personal?” one of the other Mobsters asked. John gave a shrug.

“We just went for a drink. McGowan needs to keep a better reign on his men.”

_______________________________________________________________________

2000

_______________________________________________________________________

John had barely taken one step into the hideout when he was told to head to Viggo’s office.

Something was wrong.  

He entered without knocking or saying a word to his boss, simply waiting for the man to start talking.

"What did you do to the phones?"

That made John blink, he hadn't expected that question.

"The phones?"

Viggo raised an eyebrow, "You can't honestly tell me, you have no idea what is happening."

John just stared harder, an eyebrow just barely cocked.

Viggo threw his hands up, "Call my phone then! See for yourself!"

John didn't hesitate to pull out his cell phone. It was a much sleeker model then the flip phones most carried around, a Stark prototype, given to him to see how they faired against the wear and tear of assassin life.  

The dial tone didn't even finish when John groaned, hearing the familiar lyrics,

Cause this may be the last time now that you hear the boogie song-

John hung up the call. He didn't even want to know how many phones had been affected by this.

"I need to make a phone call." He said stiffly.

"I would like to listen in." Viggo requested. John knew however that his words were more of a polite command so he swiftly placed the phone on speaker as he dialed the number.

"Junebug!" was heard answering the phone, making Viggo sputter in disbelieve, "How's my favorite hitman doing?"

"What did you do to Viggo's men's phones?" John asked, ignoring the bewildered look from Viggo.

John could practically hear the cheeky grin over the phone, "Oh? I haven't got a clue what you're referring to, Johnny Boy."

John rolled his eyes, warning a dumbstruck wheeze from the old Russian who was used to seeing nothing but stoic professionalism from his newest hire.

"I can hear your mask cracking,"

"Change it back Tony," John said blowing past the accusation that would count as grounds for a duel in most assassin circles.

"Oh come on John! It's hilarious! You're the boogeyman! You have a theme song and I'm using it properly!"

"The title of Baba Yaga isn't supposed to be funny,"

"No, but it's hilarious to me!"

"Don't make me call Pepper, Stark, we both know she will kick your ass harder then I could."

"Ohhh Last names! I'm getting to you."

"I'm calling Pepper."

"Wait! No, don't! I skipped out on a board meeting, she will kick my ass."

"Change them back then."

There was a deep sigh, "Fine. JARVIS, send the counter virus to all the phones we affected."

"Already done, Sir."

"Thank you, JARVIS," John responded, picking up the phone again.

"Hey, where's my then-"

John hung up before he could finish.

"It's done," He said to his employer.

"Who the hell was that?" Viggo asked, face pale.

John gave a shrug, "Tony Stark." He answered honestly.

"Tony Stark? As in the billionaire tech genius Tony Stark?"

John was starting to worry that his boss was going to go into shock, but continued anyway just to see what happened, perhaps Tony was rubbing off on him after all, "He's a friend. He's been teasing me about my title of Baba Yaga since he found out about it."

The older man sat there for a few seconds, eyes distant before he waved for John to leave. He closed the door behind him when he heard a dull thud and a muffled swear.

"Блыат..."

John cracked a smile, before schooling his features once more. Maybe he could see the humor in the situation.

_______________________________________________________________________

2003

_______________________________________________________________________

John had frozen the second he had thrown open the door to Winston’s office.

Charon had said to wait, that Winston was meeting with an arms dealer from SI, but John knew that Tony had no problem with John interrupting.

The man across from Winston was not Tony. The fact he was sitting in the offered chair instead of on the desk was the first clue.

No, this man was wide-set, wearing an ill-fitting grey suit. He turned his bald head to glare at John with his beady little eyes.

“Ah John,” Winston greeted him, “I hadn’t realized we had been talking for so long, is it 3 o’clock already?”

John’s shoulders relaxed a single degree at the offered excuse, “Yes, Charon said your last appointment was supposed to leave at two.”

“Well as you can see,” The man interrupted, “We were not finished when you rudely burst into the manager’s office-”

Winston cut him off, but John couldn’t stop his eyebrow from traveling up his forehead. Was this man implying something about Winston’s managing ability?

“Now Mr. Stane,” Winston soothed, “I’ve always allowed those with meetings to just enter when I’m supposed to be free for almost an hour before them. All those that enter these halls show tangible respect without all that pomp and circumstance.”

“But-”

“We were wrapping up anyways,” Winston’s voice left no room for argument, “We’re already impeding on Jonathan’s time, we wouldn’t want to hold him up now would we?”

John stayed quiet until Mr. Stane cleared out of the office, feeling the ire raising off of the man even if his face was mostly blank. Winston raises a brow at the intense stare.

“Now Jona-“

“Where’s Tony?”

“Well yesterday he was in Rome with Julian, today I imagine he’s in Barcelona meeting Miguel,” The manager explained, but he didn’t stop there, “Then to Tokyo with Madam Ono, then he’ll probably find his way to Arthur in England before returning here by the end of the month. After all, he’s been on a bit of a whirlwind already through Venice, Russia, and Pakis tan. Though the near-miss of an international incident in The UAE was a bit much to keep up his image.”

The silence around them was filled with confusion before Winston sighed and retook his seat.

“Obadiah Stane was a good friend of Anthony’s father, as well as a business partner. He was the one that first entered the Stark Industries into the Underworld, though it wasn’t until Anthony stepped up that the company became a true player in our world.”

John nodded but he felt there was more to be said, “Then why aren’t Tony and Stane traveling together?”

Winston’s face cracked into a wicked smirk, “That would imply the insolent man had enough brain cells to see how integrated Anthony is in our world, or that he even is aware of the Underworld that is. So instead Tony follows him around the world in a glaringly obvious way, giggling like a teenage girl the whole time.”

John knew the genius too well at this point to not crack a bit of a smile, “He’s playing him.”

Winston nodded, “He thinks it will be funny once Stane realizes he’s been played like a fiddle. I think I might have to call a cleaning crew if such a moment should come to past.”  

John’s eyes narrowed  As if I’d let him touch Tony, could be heard without John opening his mouth

Winston chuckled lowly, “Oh I have no doubt the cleaning crew would be deposing of Stane’s body should he try anything. The Monger has no respect for our world, he would hardly be worth the Baba Yaga’s skills.”

_______________________________________________________________________

2005

_______________________________________________________________________

It was supposed to be an easy job.

A quick in and out with against the Halabi clan, but now he found his left side pounding and his head swimming, as he forced himself to move. Suddenly a face appeared in his line of sight. The thin shrunken face of the Cario concierge raised an eyebrow.

“Should I contact the manager, Mr. Wick?” The voice barely penetrated his ears. He simply shook his head.

“Need the surgeon,” He grunted, knees giving out slightly as he was forced to grab hold of Anubis.

“One will be sent for right away, sir,” was the final thing John heard before everything tilted dangerously and white overtook his vision.

When his senses started floating back to him he could feel a presence next to him, the bandages around his torso tugging tight against the stitches. There was a long line down his side from what he could feel, much more than would be needed for a simple bullet wound.

“Your spleen ruptured and nearly took you out with it,”

The voice made John crack open an eye. After a second of letting his vision adjust, he made out the figure of a short blond man. Tony, didn’t even glance over at him disguised blue eyes focusing on something in his hands.

“Your breathing pattern changed when you woke up, don’t be so surprised. Though I have to ask what the hell you were thinking.”

“A job is a job,” John answered gruffly, his throat raw and aching.

“Oh Fuck off,”

John cocked his head, a deep frown painting his face. The genius sounded pissed, more pissed than John had ever heard him.

“To- Antonio?”

The slight misstep could be excused by the painkillers he could feel flowing through his system but it was enough to draw Tony’s glare to him.

“How fucking dare you,” He growled, “After everything I’ve done for you, and you pull a stunt like this.”

“It was just-”

“Don’t you fucking say ‘It was just a job,’” Tony mocked, “It was just a job that nearly killed you because you decided to bring this trash!”

John’s eyes finally fell onto the thing in Tony’s hand.

A sleek-looking silver gun lay there, the slide half closed as a casing poked out of it. John didn’t even have to search to see the obnoxious black logo of Hammer Industries.

“I can-“

“Shut it,” Tony growled, and John had to fight not to flinch back. There were few things John feared on this earth, that look in Tony’s eye, cold as Siberian Winter and as bloodthirsty as a shark, was one of them. Not to mention he had cut John off twice now, a deed he never did, not out of fear like most did around John but because the billionaire actually cared about what John had to say.

“Naifeh called Winston,” Tony seethed, pacing the room, “Told him he wasn’t sure you’d make it, the doctor gave you a 15% chance of waking up after how much blood you lost. And I fly all the way out here to find that they physically couldn’t pry this fucking gun out of your hand without breaking your fingers.”

His stomach sank. He didn’t mean to use the gun, having no more clips to load into his gun he had grabbed one off of the guard he had killed, only for the gun to jam and give the guard a  chance to get in a free shot. His tongue refused to move, and he’d never felt more frustrated by the fact then he did at that moment, throwing a pleading look at his friend.

“Don’t give me that look, Wick. I’m going to keep worrying about someone that’d rather risk their life with this shit instead of trusting my tech to keep you safe” The venom in Tony’s voice made John freeze, bracing for the hit to come…

Instead, the genius spun on his heel and left, slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls.

A dramatic exit to John’s life that mirrored the first time the assassin had met the genius.

_______________________________________________________________________

2006

_______________________________________________________________________

John has a soft spot for very few things, not that the general populace would ever guess the legendary Baba Yaga could be anything other than a bloodthirsty hunter.

Even so, those that knew the list knew there were only three items he deemed scared.

Animals are one, the cuter the better, innocent children is another.

Anthony Edward Stark is the unlikely third.  

But Tony had exited John life thirteen months ago in a whirlwind of emotions, leaving John quieter and more frightening to the members of the Underworld. The brightest part of the assassin’s life gone, and even the most oblivious member of their world could see it.

So when John heard a familiar voice from outside Viggo’s office he couldn’t help but stop his report mid-sentence, stomach tightening as he turned his back on a baffled Viggo to open the door into the hallway.

The guards stopped trying to push the shorter man away when they saw him. Happy looked slightly relieved before dark concern painted his features.

“Harold,” John greeted, but Happy didn’t even bother with a greeting instead muttering the three words that made John’s blood burn.

“Boss’s been kidnapped.”

The guards around Happy wilted under the ice that filled John stare at those words. He wasted no time turning to Viggo and telling him, “I’m taking a month off.”

“No,” Happy cut him off, shouldering his way past John and into Viggo’s office, “We’re hiring John to recover Boss.”

“I don’t-”

Happy waved John off, “Yeah Yeah, you don’t need or want the money from Boss, but that doesn’t change the fact that Tony wanted it this way.”

John raised an eyebrow, making Happy sigh and continue.

“Tony Stark being part of the Underworld is still considered a myth, mostly so that people don’t try and use the people he cares about against him.”

The fire in John’s veins cooled slightly at the implications.

“Nothing is Personal,” he recited from the rules he grew up knowing.

Happy snorted, “Yeah for the rest of us. You should know by now that everything is personal to Tony.”

John sighed, but had to fight to keep a fond smile from sliding onto his face. He did know this.

And when he finds himself clutching onto the small genius two nights later, blood and grim painting both of them, as Tony sobs into his shoulder apologizing over and over again, he realized he took things a bit more personal then he was trained to too.

_______________________________________________________________________

2007

_______________________________________________________________________

Pepper’s morning had been planned out to the minute, down to the very second on how long she would verbally debate her boss. She had it down to a science at this point, after six years of working with him, effortlessly knowing how much time to allot to any given job the tech genius would throw at her before he even woke up, that is if he had gone to sleep the night before which was a rarity.

So when there was a large wrench thrown into her carefully balanced agenda, she was understandably rattled. Especially since said wrench was shaped like ten bullet holes through the glass walls of Tony’s lab.

Tony barely blinked an eye at the bullets, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her deeper into the massive maze, down a hallway she never seen him use before.

“JARVIS,” Tony called, “Initiate Lockdown procedures once we reach John.”

“Tony?” She asked, mind reeling as she heard more gunshots at the end of the hallway. She tried to pull from his grasp but he just held tight and turned back to look her in the eye.

“Don’t worry, it’s just John in the shooting range testing out the new weapons I made, he won’t hurt you.”

She really didn’t believe him when they entered the room and the tall severe-looking man spun around and leveled the rifle in his hands at her head.

“Lockdown commenced,” JARVIS announced causing the man to lower his weapon as he looked at the ceiling then at Tony.

“Break in?”

“Break in,” Tony confirmed, “Looked like Plaksin‘s men.”

The man nodded, “Harold on his way?”

“Yeah, but Happy’s a few minutes out and they saw me take off so they might find us before he can show up,” Tony answered, “Protecting Pepper is top priority. Pepper, this is John Wick, a good friend of mine. ”

Another nod as the man shouldered his gun and sticking out a hand to her, “I wish I could meet the women that Tony babbles about under better circumstances.”

Tony’s ears flush red as he scowls, while Pepper takes John’s hand, “You finally speak a complete sentence and it’s to make fun of me? I’m offended!”

John’s lips twitched slightly, dropping her hand as he turns back to the range, “How many reservations?”

Tony shrugged as he walked after him, “At least four, but there could be more around the tower. JARVIS?”

“10 intruders located within the building. Three of them are contained within the lab, three are in the hallways around the lab, three are attempting to search your and Miss Potts’s Office, and the final man is waiting in a van off the back alleyway,”

“I got the three upstairs,” Tony called, lifting his hand like he was in school, his other hand was loading a magazine full of bullets, “and we can leave the one outside to Happy so he doesn’t get grumpy.”

John lifted a brow at him as he shoved a pistol into his shoulder holster, reaching for another one.

“Just because I don’t have a fancy title like the Baba Yaga doesn’t mean I can’t handle three guys on my own, Johnny boy,”

Tony wiped around at the tiny huff John let out.

“WhAt?” He whined.

“You do have a title.”

“Oh… What!” Tony cried, nearly dropping the handgun he was trying to holster, “I have a title?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

John gave a shrug and moved towards the door, only to stop and look over at Pepper who had gone deathly pale, eyes flicking rapidly between John and Tony.

“Oh geez Pep,” Tony winced, putting the Uzi he had just grabbed off the wall.

“What the hell is happening?!” She questioned, finger shaking as she pointed at John, “Who’s he? What are you guys planning on doing to them?”

"Pep," Tony tried to soothe, hands raised in surrender, "John's an old friend and what's happening is a long story."

"Then start talking," She screeched, "Because right now it sounds like we're talking about murder!"

"We are," John's quiet voice broke through the tension. Pepper paled as John stayed next to the door, "If we don't kill them first, they can and will kill everyone in this building, not just Tony, you and me."

"Bu-"

"Virginia," Tony cut her off making her head snap up, he never used her first name before, "I promise that I will explain as soon as this is taken care of, but the longer we take, the more likely the hitmen come across one of the other workers in the building, so John and I need to go. After the cleaners leave we'll sit down with four or five bottles of that white wine you really like and I'll explain everything about the Underworld okay?"

"The Underworld?" she practically whimpered. He nodded.

"Yeah the Underworld," He reaffirmed. She opened her mouth but then shook her head and closed it again.

"You'll explain after, right," She said firmly, "And you're so giving me a raise after this."

He snorted, "Oh absolutely, you name your price."

She gave him a shaky smile, "Go and be safe Tony."

He shot her a grin before picking up the Uzi once more and strutting to the door, John following behind him.

They just reached the elevator when John finally broke the silence.

"I didn't realize you how big your crush was."

Tony's ears turned pink as he stuck his tongue out.

However he didn't deny the fact, John noted with a chuckle.

[injiminsheart]

Acquisition of a Daffodil: Ch 4: Alone In The Big Bad World

Genre: Fluff | Angst (light) | Humor | Smut | Dark  | Hybrid

Rating: General | Teen | Mature

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader (?)

Fandom: BTS ARMY

Fiction Notes: BTS canon AU/ Slight future fic/ AU for personal life

Warnings: May give you some feels! :D

Do you know how that feels? Living your life day by day and knowing that painful truth. No one loves you. No one has and no one will. It's sad sometimes but mostly you're just numb. 

People tell you sometimes, “no, honey, you're beautiful and you have such a beautiful personality. You just haven't found the one yet.”

Haven't found the one, yet? Do you even know how long it's been? How long is a different question. It's never ever happened. I've never even been kissed.

When I was in 7th grade--the first crush I ever had--I told him I liked him. He told my best friend, ‘I only think of her as a friend.’ I cried. I cried for so long and didn’t talk for so many days. Who made sure I was okay? No one. Well, actually, Harry Potter did. I buried myself in books. Read and dreamt to my heart’s content. Emily Dickinson did say, “the dearest ones of time, the strongest friends of the soul, books.”

But it happened again. Doesn’t it always happen again? Everytime you love, you think it’s the last, but it happens again. You fall in love all over again. And I did. It’s just this time, it wasn’t a hurtful boy, it was this gorgeous woman. I had just graduated from community college. She was my brother’s taekwondo teacher. I was working at a shop at that time. I remember like so many other Holidays and birthdays, no one remembered little old me this time either. But they remembered everyone else just fine. I had this client I helped every single time and she brought gifts for everyone in the shop but me. I had friends call me ‘lesbian’ behind my back and do things behind my back as I did all their work. It was like high school all over again. I remember being so alone and scared. So scared. It was so dark in that corner of my mind. Why was it so dark inside my own head? I was scared and I ran. 

I ran and I’ve been running and here I am today. This is the story of how I met the man I loved dearly and the man who left me all alone.

 First day in the great Seoul, South Korea as a university student. I wanted a place where no one would know me at all. What better way to ensure that than by moving to a different country? If the language was different, I would speak to anyone only when it was crucial at other times, I would be left alone. Just as I had been since the beginning of my life. At least this would be on my own terms. 

And it was, for a while. He just didn’t want the extra attention and I wasn’t capable of another heartache. Who knew our mutual likeness of the two tables in the back of the library across from each other would lead me straight into the heart of the storm? 

It began with two opposite tables and then it eventually lead to the same table after another girl took his table. She was so happy just to sit in her “Oppa’s” chair. But the Oppa sat with me instead. I knew who he was. I had my fair share of K-pop from High School to College. Those across the table interaction changed to small talk, and before I knew it, I had fallen for him. I had fallen for the famous Park Jimin. 

The denial hit faster than a bullet train. I crossed the Pacific Ocean and the International date line to get away for this idiosyncratic behavior. I won’t allow myself to be like this again. There was only one thing left to do, distant yourself from him. I found a new place to study. Under the abandoned bleachers out by the old football field. It was a bit of walk so nobody really bothered to come here. 

As I walk in my own world with headphones in my ears, I feel a person come up to me and put their arm around my neck. My fight or flight kicks in and I try to attack my offender. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax. It’s just me,” says the girl, taking her arm off. The frown on my face must’ve clarified my inner questions because she tucks her hands in her pocket and says, “I’m Grace. I’m in your poli-sci class.”

“You speak English?”

“I would certainly hope so. I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are. It’s just been awhile since I’ve spoken English. I was taken back all of a sudden. What can I do for you?”

“Can I study with you?”

“Umm….sure.”

A knock on the door pulls Y/n out of her own thoughts.

“Come in.”

Secretary Kim peeks into the office and asks, “Is anyone in here with you?”

“No one is in today, Grace. Come in. I was just thinking about you.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, about the first day we met.”

“You mean when I asked you if I can study with you?” Grace asks with a soft smile and making her way across the office.

“Yes, Babe. That day,” Y/n says, pulling Grace towards herself.

“Y/n,” whines Grace, “What are you doing? What if someone sees us? Didn’t we agree on staying strictly professional at work?”

“We are strictly professional all the time, but I just miss you. I haven’t been able to be with you since the last few weeks. I’ve been so busy with the acquisition and then JiHyun has been all up in my business,” sighs out Y/n as she gets up and hugs Grace and lays her head on Grace’s shoulder. 

“I know it’s been a long week for you, Babe, but you gotta behave. You can’t just be falling apart in front of everyone like that. I know you used to have a thing for Jimin and him being here doesn’t help but you gotta stay strong.”

“I’m trying, but that bastard is testing my patience. I saw him throwing you a wink and eyeing you up and down. Was about to slap him.”

“Relax, Y/N. Guys do it all the time and you’ve never been bothered before, so why does it make such a big difference?”

“I just don’t like it!”

“What don’t you like, Y/n? The fact that a guy winked at me? The fact that the guy was Jimin? Or the fact that you still have feelings for him and you don’t like that he was looking at me, instead of you?”

“That’s not what I meant, Grace.”

“So tell me. What DID you mean?” Grace said furiously. She freed herself out of Y/n’s grasp and looked at Y/n teary-eyed, “I can’t keep competing with that man, Y/N. I was the one that picked up the pieces of your heart that HE shattered after he started dating AaRa in college! I was the one that kept you together all these years! I was the one that stood with you to build your business when he walked out on you. I was the one that took away all the pain. But he waltz in to your life after so many years and there you go again. Lose your mind and chase after him again.”

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion, Grace. It’s nothing like that.”

“It’s Secretary Kim for you. I’m at work,” Grace said wiping her tears.

Y/n was hurt and shocked at the same time. She felt herself breaking again. Why her? Why again.

“My apologies, Secretary Kim. You may get back to work and please cancel all my meetings for today. There’s somewhere I have to be,” Y/n said picking up her cell phone and making her way out the door.

***

Y/n’s been driving around for a while. She can’t seem to think straight so she comes back home. A bottle of vodka never hurt anyone, she thinks to herself. As she’s about to enter the elevator, she finds two familiar figures standing in the elevator. She finds herself staring at the certain Park Jimin with his arm around the girl she always hated the most in college. Little Miss Popular, Soo Hyun. Park Jimin is currently dating her college nemesis, Soo Hyun?

Y/n scoffs and lets out a laugh as Soo Hyun seemed to have recognized Y/n right as the elevator door closes to take them back up to the floor they came from. 

“Bitch!” whispers, Y/n, “serves her right!”

She doesn’t want to wait for the elevator to come down and face them again, so she decides to take the stairs. Which was possibly the worst decision as she’s currently in heels. 

It takes her a while but she finally makes it to the 6th floor. She rolls her eyes when she sees Ji Hyun standing in front of her apartment.

“Wow! Your eyes are gonna hit your brain like that.”

“Look, JiHyun, I’m not in the mood today. This day can’t get any worse than it already is. So I suggest you return from my humble abode today.”

“But I come bearing gifts,” he says lifting a bag upto Y/N’s face.

“Not today,JiHyun,” repeats Y/n.

“Just open the door. Didn’t think you would ever refuse your favorite bottle of vodka.”

Y/n sighs and smiles a little, “Fineeee!!! But only cuz I was going to get shitfaced drunk anyway.”

Ji Hyun shakes his head and chuckles to himself as Y/n unlocks her door. She throws her purse and phone on the table by the door and puts on her inside shoes as Ji Hyun steps into the extra pair by the door. 

“Make yourself at home. I’m going to go change.”

“Into spongebob shorts?”

“Shut up and pour me a drink.”

“Yes ma’am.”

***

“So what happened to you today?” asked a tipsy Ji Hyun.

“Nothing. I had a fight with one of my very close friends.”

“Just a friend?”

Y/n remained quiet and took another vodka shot.

“Why were you here today?” asks Y/n instead.

“Hyung was visiting his girlfriend and I realized she lives in your building. I had bought a bottle for you the other day so I thought I come by and drop it off at your door. But then I saw you at the elevator and I was waiting for you to get on but you didn’t. Then when we got back down, you weren’t there. So I thought I should wait for you for a while and see if you show up.”

“So what happened to Soo Hyun and Jimin?” Y/n said without thinking.

“How do you know her name is Soo Hyun?” asked a confused Ji Hyun as Y/n bit her lip and closed her eyes realizing her slip up. 

“You told me. How would I know?”

“I did?” asked a confused Ji Hyun, “no I didn’t”

“Yes you did. You said Jimin was coming to see Soo Hyun and you came along. Anyways, let me pour you a shot.”

***

Ji Hyun woke up with a headache and in nothing but boxers in Y/n’s bed with no knowledge of how he got there. He saw Y/n drying her hair in her bathrobe. 

“Ummm...what happened?”

“Nothing,” said Y/n. She looked so beautiful and Ji Hyun’s heart skipped a beat. 

“What do you mean by nothing? Why am I like this?”

“Well, there’s some lemon water next to your bedside for your headache and you drank a lot last night and were in no condition to go anywhere so you slept next to me in your boxers.”

Ji Hyun looked mortified. 

“Don’t worry,” laugher Y/n, “I didn’t touch you. I just helped you into bed. We just slept by each other. That’s all. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“I should head home, now,” Ji Hyun blushed and Y/n laughed.

“I’ll drop you off. Let me get dressed really fast.”

“It’s fine. I can Uber.”

“Relax. I’ll drop you off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

***

Y/n was dropping off Ji Hyun when she saw Ji Hyun’s mom pulling up the driveway with Jimin by her side. Y/n looked at Ji Hyun’s shuffled hair and reached over to fix it quickly. 

“Don’t freak out,” she said reaching over, “you look like you’re doing walk of shame. We don’t want them getting the wrong idea.”

Ji Hyun blushed again and they both got out of the car. Jimin looked annoyed and their mom was smirking. 

“Another late night, Ji Hyun,” teased his mom.

“Yea, Mom. I went to go see Y/n and then didn’t realize when we slept.”

Ji Hyun mustn't have heard what he was saying but Y/n elbowed him lightly as she went crimson with embarrassment. 

Y/n noticed that Jimin looked furious so she felt a bit better and added some fuel to the fire, “Yea, sorry about that, Mrs. Park. We were both so out of it yesterday. I realized this morning that Ji Hyun was still there at my house. So I offered to drop him off. But I have to get to work, now, so I’ll get going.”

“Come by anytime, sweetie!”

“Thanks, Mrs Park.”

***

Jimin walked past his brother and mother. Why is Y/n always infuriating him so much? She keeps pretending not to know him and if that wasn’t even enough. She didn’t even react when he flirted with that girl she used to hang out with in college. Then the same thing Soo Hyun. He had started dating her only because he knew she lived in Y/n’s building but instead of paying attention to him, Y/n was busy sleeping around with his younger brother. 

He entered his room furiously and threw the first thing that came into his hands. 

It isn’t fair! She’s his!

***

[ao3bronte]

Be Naughty (save Santa the trip)! 6: Fuzzy

Also on Ao3

Day 5  << Day 6 >> Day 7

Prompt 6: Fuzzy by Bronte Pairing: Adrinette 

"How many of those have you had?" Adrien asks, taking in the flush on Marinette’s cheeks with amusement.

"Um..." Marinette squints as she considers her glass, "A few? I think the bartender is making them a little stronger than necessary."

"Is he now?" Adrien raises a brow as she turns to wave at the young man behind the bar. He flushes pink and offers a shy wave in return before going back to filling glasses, "I'll bet he is. What’s this called?"

"A...a fuzzy navel," Marinette giggles, offering him the cocktail glass, "It’s silly right? But it tastes like peaches so...wanna taste?"

Adrien takes the proffered glass from her hand and makes sure to keep his eyes on the bartender, drawing the straw between his lips. Marinette was right of course; it was a little on the strong side.

"It is good," he murmurs, holding it out for her to take. Smiling, he lets his fingers slide over hers as he pulls her into his embrace, capturing her lips in a quick kiss.

Drunk Marinette is always responsive and she leans into the kiss, gasping when he takes her lower lip between his teeth and humming happily when he slips his tongue into her mouth. She tastes of vodka and peaches and faintly of the Agreste design department’s holiday dinner they'd just finished sitting through; Adrien opens his eyes and smirks against her lips, gratified to see the bartender glowering at them in frustration.

"But I think it tastes better on you," Adrien remarks as he releases her, stepping back and using the force of their movements to spin her around. Marinette giggles and wobbles back towards him, bracing her hands against his chest to catch her balance.

“We should…” Marinette blinks slowly, her half lidded gaze wavering as she struggles to focus, “We should dance.”

“Hmmm,” Adrien wraps his arms around her middle and considers his options for a moment, his curiosity getting the best of him. Sure, they could stay and dance the evening away until she sobers up a bit or…

He bends down and whispers something in her ear, the soft spoken innocence in his voice belied by the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He gently nips the shell of her ear and Marinette’s face flushes pink, snickering breathlessly at the implication of his words and suddenly she’s learning back and snatching his hand off her waist, tugging him along and making a beeline for the door.

“I know just the place!”

~

“Here?” An elevator ride and two hallways later, Adrien looks from side to side at the conference room she’d lead them to and turns back around in confusion, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Marinette replies, the final shreds of her common sense falling away. She kicks the door closed behind them and flicks the lock with her fingers, feeling the tingle of the vodka spread through her veins, “It’ll be fun!”

“This is my father’s conference room.”

“Your point?”

Marinette strips the cardigan from her shoulders and tosses it onto the nearest chair, her smile growing with every passing moment. She wriggles out of her dress next, the thin lace straps slipping off her shoulders one by one until the whole ensemble hits the floor with a quiet thump.

Adrien chews his lip for a moment, considering. If they were to get caught…

“Oh, fuck it.”

Marinette giggles as he reaches across, catching her around the waist and dragging her in his arms. She grabs fistfuls of his dress shirt and kisses him, the alcohol and the effervescence and the sudden heat drowning out any fears or anxieties of being caught in flagrante delicto in her boss’s (and future father-in-law’s) conference room. She guides him back towards the chair at the head of the table and Adrien knows exactly what she's up to and stills for a moment, gauging the grim humour of the situation, before tossing caution to the wind and finally kissing her back with fervor.

Marinette lets out a low moan as his hand snakes back to clasp the nape of her neck, the other cupping her ass and hauling her up onto the asymmetrically designed conference table. Her hands roam his body, unclasping each of his buttons one by one until she’s freed him completely, pushing the cashmere blend from his shoulders and onto the floor. She skims her fingers along his skin, through his dishevelled blond hair, over the muscles of his chest and abdomen, then down, down to the firm curve of his ass and the bulge at the apex of his thighs. He gasps into her mouth as she repeats the motion, over and over until he’s straining against the zipper of his wool trousers, unable to stifle the moan of frustration when her fingers drift away.

Adrien spreads her legs further apart and grinds their hips together, sucking a line of kisses along her jaw. She’s gasping now, all hot, breathy moans against his ear and Adrien can’t hold out for much longer, not with the way she’s grazing her nails against his scalp, drawing the purr he so desperately tries to keep underwraps from between his lips. Growling, he undoes the button of his trousers and Marinette is nothing but eager to help, pushing the fabric down past his hips until his cock springs free of his briefs.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Adrien mutters as Marinette gasps into his mouth, his knuckles rubbing circles against her clit through her panties. He pulls away and Marinette gives a little sob of complaint at the interruption, bracing herself as Adrien raises her hips just enough to help her shimmy out of the thong she’d bought specifically for her outfit. He bends down to slide the strip of lace from her ankles and comes up slowly, sucking and scraping his teeth along the length of her inner thighs before pausing just below her lower lips, his eyes trained on her.

“W-why’d you stop?” Marinette gasps and tries to use her legs to beckon him closer, to get him to just do something already. She bucks her hips, the little sparks of pleasure radiating from her core increasing with the very thought of Adrien going down on her where M. Agreste would no doubt be sitting tomorrow morning. She takes her lower lip in between her teeth and closes her eyes, throwing her head back with the intensity of her fantasy.

Adrien watches it play out on her face and just knows what’s going through her mind and...fuck. He's never going to be able to sit here beside his father with a straight face ever again.

Straightening from his crouch, Adrien cups her ass with his palms and pulls her close, pressing his cock flush against her stomach. He moans low into her mouth as she scrapes her fingernails down his spine, the pleasure/pain of the sting combined with the pressure against his cock sending him soaring.

“Please,” she warbles, grasping onto his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his thighs. He doesn't waste another moment and takes himself into his hand, pushing himself inside her and fuck , Marinette is so, so hot and he’s so close already, the intensity of their situation coming to a fever pitch inside his mind. They could be caught having in his father’s conference room for Christ’s sake, and the risk of it all makes his cock twitch dangerously inside her. He worms an arm between them and flicks her clit with the pad of his thumb, bracing her against him with the other and thrusts and thrusts and he’s never even imagined this in his wildest fantasies and—

Marinette keens as he ups the ante, the pressure and the patterns he’s tracing against her clit drawing a throaty moan that seems to reverberate through her entire body and she wants him, she wants him so bad, wants him around and everywhere but right now, right now she can’t do anything but buck her hips and meet his thrusts helplessly, burying her face in his neck, worrying the tender flesh at the juncture of his neck. It feels so so good and he’s starting to lose his rhythm, starting to make those tiny, needy noises that always tell her that he’s close, so close that she can taste him, feel him twitching inside her and she throws her head back with abandon and clenches, content to hear him howl as he’s swept over the edge, coming hard in hot pulses inside her. His hips falter, his movements stutter and it takes a long moment before he comes back to himself, bleary and exhausted and thoroughly dishevelled.

“Did...you?”

Marinette licks her lips and leans back, bracing herself on her elbows, “Not yet.”

Adrien takes a deep breath and tries to gather his fuzzy thoughts, glancing down at his fingers. He’s only got a few brain cells working but this? This he can do.

Her heart is racing as he slips two fingers inside her and begins to return the favour, his thumb retracing its former movements against her throbbing clit. Marinette lets her elbows collapse beneath her and spreads out onto the conference table, groaning as he curls his fingers and adds a third, pumping them in and out. It won’t be long now, she thinks, revelling in the pleasant buzz in her fingers and toes as her climax approaches, swelling in her core until the pull is all encompassing, knocking her senseless.

Marinette opens her eyes and stares up at the ceiling, grinning from ear to ear. She hears Adrien doing something at the end of the table but she can’t be arsed to care, idling kicking her feet as the hang off the side of the table’s edge. She starts to giggle again, the heady murmur of alcohol still buzzing in her mind and in her limbs, elated and giddy.

“Proud of yourself?”

“Hm?” she raises her head off the table, her smile growing wider as Adrien zips up his trousers, his facial expression akin to a puppy that knows he’s been naughty.

“I can’t believe you made me do this,” he mutters, gathering up the rest of their clothing.

Marinette sits up and basks in the afterglow, “You know you loved it.”

Adrien can only grumble in agreement.

[riverrunbrynden]

kiss for the fav bear xox

@fidelisursa

FIRST THREE IN MY INBOX GET KISSES.

If it was one man that Bryndenknew couldn’t contain himself around women, it was Jorah fucking Mormont. Notin the usual way, mind you, where men stared at all the wrong places – thoughhe had caught him doing that a few times – and got caught, or were too overlyfriendly with their hands. It was more that the poor bastard didn’t know how toquit while he was ahead, cut ties, and never look back. He’d been caughtembezzling and stealing several years ago, been outright thrown from The Northby Eddard Stark himself. Worst part was it was for no other reason than awoman…

But he was still in Westeros,working strange jobs that Brynden had a feeling he knew the nature of, thebusiness of killing a very lucrative one. The Blackfish had some measure ofrespect for him though, hard headed and stubborn, being body guard over hiredthug. Though it was probably his women troubles that kept him coming, knockingback tumblers, and keeping to himself in a shady back corner. He watched himsometimes, when he had the mind to, or when he spied him taking Northern Vodkaas the antidote for his heart. What better poison than the one that made youforget your troubles?

That night, however, was a bitdifferent. Brynden usually kicked everyone out by one o’clock, the A.M. tellinghim of his responsibility to keep the place together, at least enough tofunction for a few more days. Some tables were broken, a few chairs as well,but most of them were still in condition to serve for the coming weekend. Allin all, nothing unusually for a Thursday evening, winding up for the inevitablemadness and violence that would take place.

It was while he was clearing outthe back, tossing shards of broken furniture into a bin that he spotted a body,half sprawled under a dislodged table. The Blackfish knelt to grab the sod byhis collar, roughly rolling him over, more annoyed that he’d have to call theguard if the cunt was dead, but –

At first, he was more relievedthat he was breathing, shallow, labored inhales from his slightly open lips.Brynden frowned, closing his eyes, and released him to rub at his brow. Didn’tmuch care that his head hit the floor, though he should have, considering therewere still a few shards of amber glittering across the floor. Resigned andtired, knuckles throbbing softly, from some fool he had to belt across themouth.

He wrapped his arms around hiswaist, hauling his limp form up, and over his shoulder. His knees ached, one ofthem popping under the strain as he stood, and walked with heavy strides to hisoffice in back. The door slammed shut behind him, the bar was closed, but itwas more a habit by now. The lamp was dim, casting strange shadows this way andthat, the flicker of the orange glow warm against the brick walls.

Brynden lowered him rather gently,all things considered he should have called The Guard to take him to a cell forthe night, but… He sighed, sitting on the edge of the cot, and pinched thebridge of his nose to fend off the coming ache in his head. He’d have to ordermore Dornish Dry Ale in the morning, get two more tables for the entrance, andat least five chairs for both the bar and a few for the –

“Blackfish…” Half a question, morea realization by the end, and Brynden looked over his shoulder to see brightblue orbs staring at him. Reminded him of ice in winter, the soft downy snowall around, and the crystals that hung jagged from roof and branch. This wasthe kind that was thick and hard, strong as steel, and twice as deadly. Hefrowned, half turning his body to face the other man.

“Aye, ya either got knocked offyer arse, or I should’ve cut you off long ago.” Though he doubted it was reallyeither reason, and though Mormont had not had the best of luck financially, heknew better than to think he had no place to stay for the night. “You going tatell me what possessed you to sleep in my pub?” Hardly the safest place to restone’s head either…

Jorah watched him, vision stillglassy, drink melting the ice of his orbs into something warm. But Brynden knewwhen a man was drunk. He’d grown up knowing all the subtle signs, able to pickthem out of the flush of one’s cheeks, and the flicker of the pupils. Perhapshe was close, but those that wore the bear were hardier than most, as thosefrom the North tended to be. Still, that was no reason for his common sense tohave fled him entirely. He shook his head, opening his mouth, and the Blackfishcould practically smell the Vodka on his breath.

He sighed, irritated, and shookhis head, hand rising to scrub the course, ash curls at his nape. “Right bloodyfool, aren’t you?” Brynden rasped, the rough roll of words from his lipsharsher than he meant, but the lingering adrenaline in his system stirred hisirritation easily.

“Men who have known any form of awoman’s love tend to be…” Jorah let out a weak, harsh laugh that ended in wet,lingering coughs. Brynden rolled his eyes, so hard he might as well have seenhis own brain, twisting back around to face forward.

“Aye, and look at where it’sgotten you.” Cutting, worse than before, even if he tried to reign himself in.

“And what has it given you,Blackfish?” Tipsy as he was, he’d sensed the bitterness in Brynden’s tone…

“Keep talking ya disgraced bear,”he sneered, “and I’ll smother ya.” He meant to rise, to stand and finish withthe pun, but he lingered. Why, he didn’t know, listening to the other’s deep breathsfor a few blessed moments. It calmed him, at least the throb that echoed up hisspine and through his skull.

“I always wondered…” Brynden’seyes lowered to half mast, hackles already itching to rise. “If it was truewhat they said about you…” He had an inkling of what the other was speaking of,gaze straying back just enough to watch him out of the corner of his eye. Ifanything, at least it would shut him up…

He moved, agile as a trout movingup stream, hands coming down on either side of the other man to crush him intothe mattress. Their noses brushed, ash and earthen stubble scraping, hissingloudly in the still air. Rivers met ice, a momentary clash of blizzard tohurricane, though the aftermath was little more than the crest of a wave.Brynden paused, not so much hesitating or questioning, curious – Jorah didn’tmove, just watched him, hands neatly folded on his chest. Then their lips met,teeth biting through enough that the Blackfish tasted iron, because the bearhad no patience. In an instant, he’d had him by his flannel, fingers tight inthe red and blue checkers, bringing him crashing down on top of him.

Lips course and hot, chapped andcatching on his own equally rough ones, every crack filled with the lingeringtang of bitter drink. A tongue lolled out, scorching along the cut in Brynden’slip, a soft growl rumbling forth from both of them. Him for the added surge ofpain, Jorah for the taste, and it gave him enough find to notice his handsmoved… Never leaving him as they traveled up, threading through his hair tofist it, letting him twist his head to deepen the assault. What else could hecall it? Damn bear was stroking along his molars and his own tongue, devouringhim like he might a hive of honey all to himself.

He inhaled sharply, taking in leatherand oil, some sort of spiced cologne, and the unique musk that reminded him offorests of cedar and oak. Brynden tilted his head a little further, mouthssliding, beard scraping to flush cheeks if the lack of air didn’t. TheBlackfish drew back, sharply, suddenly, mouth on fire… something ravenouslighting in his belly. Jorah panted beneath him, fingers barely relaxing, justenough to rub his scalp in some semblance of a pet. He shook his head,swallowing hard the undeniable sweetness left behind from him. Made him hungry,made him want to see if the rest of him was just as good. The look in the bear’seyes said the same, chest rising rapidly, brushing his own on every inhale.

But he tore himself free,breathing quick and sharp, denying the burn of his face and the tightness inhis lungs. “Where the hells are you going?” Deeper, raspier, hiss of icefalling from a glacier, landing in the frozen waters below. Brynden fought thedesire to nurse his bitten lip with his tongue, even as it tingled, even as hecould feel a droplet slowly working its way down through his beard.

“Yer drunk…” Lie, he knew itclearly. Jorah knew it too.

“Are you saying that because youwant me to be?” The Blackfish snarled, low and dangerous in his throat.

“I’m saying that because yer anidiot who got stuck in my pub fer the night. Now stay in here and be quiet, orI’ll tell The Guard ta come pick up your sorry arse.” He walked out, stridefast and vicious, slamming the office door behind him.

He needed a drink.