User blog:Dawndragon1828/Drunken Snake~ GGaD-Fic/ by: MJ

[This is a work of fiction for a character from the original FWRP. Meaning it may not be suitable for all ages (Because It's Damian), View discretion is advised.]
I groaned and turned away from the blinding lights shining through the thin, white curtains. Seriously, what's the point in having curtains if the fxcking sun is just going to shine right through?

I yawned tiredly, unable to fall back asleep. The slight throb of a headache creeping up on me as I took in my surroundings while lying on my back. Not my curtains, I thought, Looking up at the ceiling fan. Not my ceiling, not my bed, not my room... I shift my gaze to the sleeping woman beside me, facing away. I take in her bare back and auburn hair. Could it? Hoping it is who I think it is, I raise my head a bit to get a better look, and to my disappointment, it's not.

Not my Red. I mentally curse myself and fall back on the bed. Remembering the event's that lead up to this.

Drinking, Drunk, and the flirting. Heated Make-out session, and of course this. ''What the fxck is wrong with me? I wasn't even that drunk this time, and I slept with another red-head. I'm pathetic.''

Yup. What a wuss. I'm a pathetic, wuss. Wanting to kick myself I take another look at the woman beside me. I have to admit, she was sexy, but her hair was a little more orange, and too short. Her skin tone was a lot paler too, with slight freckles dotting her skin here and there.

Double checking to see if she was still asleep, and if I was wearing boxers, I slipped off the bed soundlessly and retrieved my clothes that was scattered everywhere. Holy shit, how did my jeans reach over here???

---

After finding all my clothes and belongings, I left. Normally that's what you do after a one night stand. You leave. The sad part of Drunk one night stands is you probably won't know where the hell you are or where your car is. Lucky for me, my highly adavnce Hangover skills allowed me to deduct where I was. Modern New York, couple blocks away from that bar and my motorcycle. I thanked the gods as I started my walk to the bar, finding my motorcycle and using my phone to track down a certain someone, eventually ending up sitting inside a starbucks sipping some sugar filled latte from the secret menu.'' Diabetes in a cup. A delicacy and popular trend in America.''

As I continue drinking the diabetes, my eyes scan the customers until they stop at a tall man. To be quite honest with you readers, He was hot. With his messy brown hair and tanned skin. Don't forget those attractive emerald green eyes (Green-eyed men are a turn on, Just look at me) and 'oh yes' inducing spanish accent. I'd hit that if I could. But I won't, because of the mystery relationship this bastard has with Red. My Red.

Anyways, back to the subject. I'm an assassin, but he's not a target. I'm simply keeping a surveillance on his whereabouts for personal reasons. Gods I hate him, But kinda wanna fxvk him. I sigh, watching as he flirts his way a free Cappuccino and leaves, my cue to pay and follow him.

The guy, spanish-hot-Pocket, contiues a couple more blocks before he swiftly turns into an alley way. Funny, I know this city like the back of my hand and I know damn well that alley way is a dead end. So I pick up my pace and enter the dark quiet alley just in time to see Spanish-Hot-Pocket disappear in a Turquoise flash of color.

Well, whaddya know. I smirked, knowing my pointed fangs were showing. He really did accept the job.