#running together

Author: justiceformerthur

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,122

Details: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Modern Era, Meet Cute, Meet Fright Turned Meet Cute?, Bit Of a Scary Situation But Nothing Too Bad, Protective Arthur Pendragon, Happy Ending, Stalking, Stalker, Running Away From a Stalker, Pretending to Be Together, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, Modern AU, “I’ve Got you”.

Summary: He needs to think of something else, something else, come on, Merlin, this isn’t working. He hones in on a man further up ahead leaning against the wall of a bank, staring at his mobile. He’s blonde and his coat looks expensive and that’s apparently enough for Merlin, who beelines for him.

The blonde looks up, startled, as Merlin grabs his arm.

Summary: After having your apartment blown up by Santino, you flee to John’s house and tell him everything. Shortly after his own encounter with  Santino, you both make it your top priority to kill him, no matter the cost. But how easy will that be when you both have an open contract against you?

A/N: If you’d like to be tagged let me know! Sorry this took so long!! 

WARNINGS : MENTIONS OF WOUNDS, MENTIONS OF GUNS, MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF KNIVES & MENTIONS OF BLOOD.

John had offered you his bed after he had helped you wrap up your wounds. You had told him that you were fine on your own, and that you’d find a place to stay. Upon thanking him for his attempted hospitality, you limped towards the door and tried to pry it open when at least two or more headlights came into view. John had told you to hide in the kitchen, he didn’t even have to tell you why because you already knew that Santino was on his way to get a hold of John.

You thought whatever Santino wanted, he was desperate enough for it to come to John. Everyone knew that John was retired, so just how desperate was Santino?

You almost found yourself feeling sorry for John. You almost understood why he ran away all those years ago. This ‘business’ was beyond corrupt, it was a constant reminder of just how filthy the outside world was, let alone the men in power. They’d stop at nothing to get what they thought was rightly deserved. 

Even if that meant hiring one of the best assassins in America. 

“If he knows you’re alive..” he trailed as you made your way from the door to the door frame of the kitchen.

 You waved him off, slowly sliding against the Island cabinet to sit down. Your leg throbbed at the sudden pressure and you had to dig your nails into your thigh in order not to make a sound. 

As soon as he saw that you were no longer into view, he clicked the door open just before Santino ringed the bell.

“Chao, John.” Santino nodded as John stood at the door, his shirt powdered with dirt.

“Santino.”

The mention of his name made your fists ball up with rage. Not only had this man blown up the only place where you could lay your head at night, he threatened to kill the only person who risked everything for you. If you weren’t so unstable you would’ve have killed him by now, you would’ve shown him what it really meant to be alone, but you left it alone, you figured that whatever happened after John let you leave his house was between you and Santino. There was no use in dragging John back into a game he had already beat years ago.

While you were trying to keep your movements as still as possible, you heard distinct mumbles, shuffles, soft whispered yells and then finally the sound of the front door clicking shut again. Not long after, you heard John’s feet padding toward you from the hallway, you stood with your hand hovering over your pistol just in case you were wrong, but when you saw his long hair come into view you relaxed and leaned against the counter.

“John...” You whispered when you saw him pick up a picture of him and his wife smiling blissfully. His eyebrows furrowed under your touch when you squeezed his shoulder. His eyes trailed to meet yours and you squeezed his shoulder harder to stop yourself from letting your feelings overwhelm you.

He didn’t deserve your sympathy. Never again.

“She would’ve loved-” 

He began, but the crashing of glass filled the room as Johns dog trailed in moment before. Shot after shot pilled through before you and John both realized what was happening you shared a look of worry before the house went up in flames. 

You could feel the sting of heat brush against your arms as your feet lifted up off of the ground before scraping harshly against the sharp glass that surrounded  the ground. 

Your shirt got caught on the branch of a tree, the sharp tip dug into your skin and you yelped out in pain. You could feel the scorching heat gnaw at your wounds as you tried to wiggle away from the rising heat but you weren’t getting far. You finally tore your eyes open to see John who was laid against the ground unresponsive.

The trickle of warm liquid trailed down on the bridge of your nose and you felt your head throb in sync to the beat of your heart. You could feel your fingers twitch and pulse with both exhaustion and excruciating pain, your limbs felt heavy against you as you tried to push yourself up off the ground several times but it was no use, you were closer to the fire and it was building up in front of you.

But you refused to die. 

Letting out a cry you dug your nails into the dirt of the backyard and pulled yourself forward, so you were face to face with a unconscious John. You pushed your blood coated hair out of your face and pressed your two fingers against his neck to check for a pulse.

“Come on, dammit you’re not giving out on me today John.”  you yelled out against the flames that were trying to drown you out, without much thinking you mustered up enough physical strength to stand on your leg which was also drenched in dripping blood to drag John away from the burning house which was falling violently. 

When you had pulled him away your legs gave out and you fell behind him, you could feel the pointy rocks dig into your open wound, but you couldn’t feel the pain. With one more worn out physical push, you tried to crawl toward the flashing blue lights that were fading away in front of you into a dark light, when your muscles gave out and your head collided with the ground, your body unable to hold it up anymore.

-

When you woke up with a jolt, your hand moved toward your thigh where your gun once was as instinct, but when a hand pressed into your shoulder you soon understood where you were.

“where is he?” you asked, your throat feeling fresh and hydrated. You felt a-lot  better than you were before the explosion, you could feel your legs, and your head wasn’t constantly hammering like it was before.

“You kept mumbling his name in your sleep.” the desk clerk deflected, who’s name you had come learn was Charon. He flicked through some files as you refused to meet his eyes when he said so. You looked around the room instead, to find that this room was much the same as the first room you stayed at the first time you came to the continental.

“And the dog?” You asked, changing the subject after a moments silence.

He looked up at you through his tilted glasses, pressed his lips together and placed the files against his lap. 

“At the foot of the bed.” 

Charon got up, tucked the chair he had used to sit beside your bed into the desks table and straightened his suit, giving you one last look before heading toward the door. 

“Is he okay at least?” You spoke up when you heard the door open, you pushed yourself to sit up straight and turn around to look at him, he gave you a soft smile before leaving the room entirely and closing the door behind him.

You let out an exasperated sigh, when your phone on the beside table rang, you picked it up and held it against your ear knowing it was John.

You didn’t need to hear him speak to know what had happened. His breathing was ragged and you could hear his whimpers and grunts from the other end of the line, you stood up and threw your coat on, the sudden rush of blood that filled your foot made you stumble back but you caught your balance and told Johns dog to stay. You strapped your thigh holster tight and stuffed your feet in your combat boots.

“He knows, [Y/N].” He let out as you closed the door, you made your way to the elevator, desperately pressing the lifts button to get out of the continental, when you saw a figure behind you, through the glass doors of the elevator.

Their phone went off bedside you and you glanced downward at it. Your finger fell from the button you were pressing and the phone that was pressed against your ear threatened to slip. You gripped it with your fingers and sighed when you saw both your names in bold.

Unknown number :  [Y/N] [L/N] & JOHN WICK OPEN CONTRACT....

“Let me put you on hold,” You said as you both stepped into the elevator.

The man was tall and had short brown hair, he wore sunglasses to cover his eyes and a black suit to match, you tucked your phone into your back pocket and breathed in when the door closed.

When the elevator began to descend the man switched and pulled out a pocket knife, he shoved you to the right corner of the elevator, pinned you against the wall with his knee and dug the knife deep into your throat and pushed your face to the other side of the lift with his other arm so you wouldn’t see. You let out a cry and punched his chest, hard. You grabbed his wrist when he stumbled back and twisted it until it popped furiously, making him drop the knife.

With no time to pick it up, you charged at him swiping his legs until he fell backwards. You climbed on top of him grabbing a fistful of his hair and hitting it against the glass flooring of the elevator. You saw him wiggle to grab his knife so you pressed your knee into his wrist, he let out a loud cry and you used the moment of distraction to use both knees to press against his ribs to block his airways and lean back to grab his knife, you whacked it against his temple and watched as his body slumped under the impact.

The elevator dinged and you got out to meet the face of Charon and the security that stood behind him, you pushed passed him and pulled out your phone holding it against you ear again.

“Let’s get that son of a bitch.”

-

-

JW - ‘RUNNING TOGETHER’ TAGLIST: @contanto-que-voce-me-queira​ @cap-just-said-language​ @leah-halliwell92​

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 3178

"They sit there, not really talking anymore, but Stiles doesn't feel the need to fill the silence with words. The knowledge that the loneliness is shared, he thinks, is enough. Enough to soften the sting of it - just like the rain, washing away its sharp edges until it barely hurts at all."

The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist.

Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope.

He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles.

  [Sorry It took so long! If you want to be added to the ‘Running Together’ Taglist, let me know! 💞 ]

-

[ If you’ve missed any fewer parts : Part one  Part two  Part three ]

WARNINGS : Light offensive language and Mentions of  wounds.

[ SHORT CHAPTER ]

-

-

-

“Как ты меня нашел?” (( How’d you find me?)) You asked, keeping the gun aimed at him while getting your jumper off and throwing it on the couch beside the table.

“It wasn’t very hard to find you, (Y/N),” he took a swig of the Jack Daniels you could only assume he stole from your cabinet. “Not after the stunt you pulled anyways.” He finished, swallowing the liquid that burned his throat, you watched his Adams apple bob through his neck. 

“I could kill you right, now before you even manage to scream for help-”  you admitted, keeping the intimidating gaze.

He chuckled softly, setting the glass cup he filled himself the alcohol with on the glass stand beside him, he moved carefully, fearing that the littlest of actions could provoke you and terminate his life. He did not want that. 

“I know you could.” He confirmed your fact and slouched into your couch, spreading his legs apart and clasping his hands on his lap. Your lip twitched upward and you moved forward. A warning.

“Так ты думаешь, что можешь просто пригласить себя в мой дом?” ((So you think you can just invite yourself into my home?)) 

He scoffed, sitting up now when you took another step. He fiddled with the hem of the light, looking around as his face scrunched up in disgust. 

“You call this a home?” 

You growled, clicking pistol off of its safety and pointed it on the center of his forehead, “You have five seconds to leave, or these bullets will end up in holes you don’t want them to.” 

He shook his head, gulping unclasping his hand and sitting up-right crossing his leg over the other holding a finger up to you. He was playing the testing game and he was playing it well, there was something that he wanted and he was going to use something to hold against you to get you to do it, you could feel it. But that wasn’t how you made money. Not anymore.

He ‘Tsk’d’ three times before he pointed towards the double glass doors that lead you to your balcony, keeping your eyes trained on him you moved towards the door, releasing one hand from the gun to pull the curtains away from each other.

“Not unless you want your director to die? and believe me, If she dies it wouldn’t be end well for either of us.”

You caught a glimpse of her walking down the block, her purse clasped in her hand, her beads bouncing off of her body as she walked hurriedly towards the theater. Tearing your eyes away from her you looked towards the top of the roof, an automatic sniper following her every move, you looked toward Santiano, who had a smug smirk on his face. You and glared at him.

“what do you want?”

-

-

When John got home the house was empty, the sound of his dogs footsteps padding across the floor toward him was the only sound that echo’d throughout the house.

It was dark now, and there was barley enough time for John to make himself a decent meal before his doorbell rang. He moved slowly, ordering his dog to “stay,” as he went to answer the door. He pulled the pistol from behind his trousers before he rested his hand on the doorknob cautiously, the sound of the knock came again before John opened it and pointed it whoever he expected to be on the other side of the door. He dropped his stance and sighed.

“(Y/N)?”

-

-

 “I’m not killing your sister for you, Santiano,” you firmly stated, “If you need someone to do your dirty deeds for you, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

It was his turn to growl now, he slammed his hands on his knees and pointed a finger at you, his eyes staring you down hard.

“You owe me, let’s not forget about  how many ‘dirty deeds’ I did for you.” He spat.

If there was one thing you hated, it was “the finger.” as John used to call it. Whenever someone pointed a finger at you it ignited something inside you, it provoked you, and everyone who knew about you knew that even thinking about pointing a finger at you could get them killed. 

“ этот палец окажется там, где солнце не светит. “ ((that finger is going to end up somewhere where the sun don’t shine.)) 

Slowly, testing your patience further, he retracted his finger. Standing up and Tugging at the hems of his suit. Straightening his waistcoat.

“you’re going to regret rejecting this deed.”

He let himself out, closing the door behind him. You dropped your stance, moving towards the balcony door to see if he made it to his car and not trying to pull a stunt. When you saw him reach his car you closed the blinds, uninterested in seeing him drive away. You picked up the glass cup that he used and tossed it in the bin, rolling your shoulders you got ready to take a shower when you heard a rapid ticking, you watched the seat that he sat on flash with read and sighed deeply when you knew what was coming next.

The smell of smoke filled your apartment, before you could move to escape the apartment complex, you were blown back by the outburst of fire and flew through the door, tumbling down the fire escape stairs.

-

“He’s coming for us now,” you finished, wincing as John patted down the cut that you earned on your cheek, he shrugged focused on minimizing the amount of blood that kept trickling down your jaw. “Doesn’t matter.” he said.

“There’s not anything we can’t handle.” 

-

JW - ‘RUNNING TOGETHER’ TAGLIST : 

@contanto-que-voce-me-queira @cap-just-said-language @a--1--1--3 @leah-halliwell92

FOREVER TAGLIST :

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