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toontails · 4 years ago

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Toon Quest|| Reader Insert

Chapter 2: Roadkill

The muffling sound of speaking woke Y/n up from her slumber, as any other morning, the birds their sweet melody. The sun was given the chance to shine through the clouds, it rays lighting up each crevice of Y/n's room. She must have forgotten to close the blinds last night, she still felt the fatigue drag her down into slumber. Her eyelids giving off a burning sensation and...something else. She was sore, causing slight discomfort. Her hands were stinging painfully as well as her torso. Sitting up quickly, Y/n lifted her palms. Looking down she saw two blisters like burns on both of her palms. The palm of the skin was torn, her hands felt almost numb and stiff, looking at the red tissue, Y/n realized it was a people burn. From the lasso that she was holding so tight onto. Last night she didn't feel a thing, most likely because she was worried about a hundred other things and the fact her adrenaline was pumping from fear and being overwhelmed. Lifting her shirt slightly, she peered down at her torso, not much noticeable other than a colored bruise that was forming.

"I need to be more careful.." She whispered to herself.

"Y/n!!" Her mother calls her from down stairs. Y/n looked over towards her nightstand. Reaching over to her phone. She picked it up and plucked it from it's charger and looked at the time.

11:13 AM

She quickly slipped from out of the bed. Thankfully her legs aren't sore to the point she felt like she was walking on stilts. Scurrying over to the bookbag where she passed the book safely. Opening the bag, she saw the book indeed was still safely tucked away. Closing the bag up again, Y/n got up and walked from the room.

Hearing soft laughter from downstairs, Y/n stood at the last step, the staircase led to the corridor to the living room. Where she saw her mother, Bendy and Henry Stein. Henry was standing next to M/n. His hands in his slacks pockets. Dark circles under his eyes, no doubt from the busy work. Bendy stood at the end of the coffee table holding a tissue paper, where he stuffed the tissue paper into the fist of his palm on his other hand. Once the tissue was no longer in sight he opened his palm to reveal nothing, the tissue nowhere to be found. M/n laughed slightly, clapping at the many harmless magic freaks Bendy showed her.

"I didn't know you could do that." M/n told Bendy. Bendy's smile widened. "Oh, I dabble."

Y/n noticed that Bendy actually wore clothes this time—not that he really needed to anyway. He still had his white bow tie. What was added was black dress pants and white suspenders. Looking more dapper than he originally looked.

"Oh! Y/n. Glad you're up, did you pack your bags? You're leaving soon." Y/n's optics flickered away from Bendy and over to her mother. Y/n gave a welcoming smile to Henry, who smiled back as well.

"I'll pack right now. I should be done in a few minutes." Y/n answered. Her mother nods, leaving her daughter to take care of her business. Y/n started to walk up the stairs, but abruptly stopped before glancing back over at Bendy, who caught hindsight of her. She motioned him to follow her and then, she walked back upstairs.

Scuffling through her dresser, Bendy slowly closed the door behind him as he glanced around momentarily.

"Where's Panchito and Oswald?" Y/n asked. Bendy turned his gaze over to Y/n, giving her a questioning gaze. Yes. He knew who Panchito was, but was oblivious to the fact the toon rabbit they were with last night was named Oswald.

"Oswald?" He asked slowly. Y/n looked at him and gave hina questioning expression as well. "Yes. Rabbit, remember?" She raised an eyebrow, and Bendy soon made an expression of realization.

"Oh him. They're both at the studio. I hid them in the lower section of the building." He said. Y/n nods before taking out the set of clothes and carrying them over to the bed. Placing the clothing on the bed as she then glanced at her palms.

"I got a rope burn when we were crossing leaping over the street." She showed her palms to Bendy who walked over and gazed down at her hands.

"There's bandages in the car, we'll bandage you up in there."

Once hearing that there was a first aid kit in the car, Y/n was relieved to hear that she wouldn't have to sit hours in the car with sore and burning hands. But. After a while of picking out clothes. Grabbing her toothbrush. Wallet, phone and phone charger all in one book bag along with the book. The two set off to finally start their adventure.

"Where's Henry going? Isn't he driving us back to the studio?" Y/n asked Bendy, she grabbed the book bag and placed it on her shoulders. Bendy looked away from the window and shook his head.

"Of course not. Him and M/n have a business errand to run with the board, what is it? I don't know, I've heard it's a big thing that a new company is innovating but, he's riding with M/n." He said. Y/n nods, it wasn't rare that Henry and her mother had meetings they constantly had to be to. Changing the topic as she held the straps of her book bag. She grinned at Bendy.

"You were being put through the ringer last night." She laughed. Thinking back in the punch Bendy received from one of the beagle boys. Bendy froze for a second. His always lasting grin faltering a dipping down for a second.

"Oh please. You all should be thanking me. I worked under pressure and took the first blow."

"At this point you're just a walking punching bag. Come on—"

"A walking punching bag? Why I—forget it. Let's go."

"Okay, and remember, indoors at 8PM. Not too late, remember to eat dinner, and don't forget! Take pictures!" M/n pressed a kiss to Y/n's forehead before pulling her into a hug, Y/n returned the gesture before pulling away. Bendy stood in the doorway of the front door, arms behind his back. Walking over to him, M/n waved at her daughter.

"Bendy, please. Keep her safe and out of trouble." M/n said. Bendy smiled and nodded. "Oh please. I won't let her out of my sights, she'll be as safe as a kitten Mrs. L/n."

Bendy hooked his arm around Y/n's arm and escorted her out the house, her mother waving the two goodbye with a soft expression. Henry was standing next to her as well, lifting a hand to wave the two goodbye as well.

"Alright toots, let's roll."

Arriving at the studio, Annie—yet again was standing at the receptionist desk, Y/n trailed behind Bendy who walked past Annie, she was too busy talking to some other employee from another department to notice the two. Once making it to a hallway, right in front of an elevator, Bendy pressed the arrow that would take them down into the studio. Which made Y/n wonder.

"There's a lower section of the studio?" She asked. Bendy looked away from the studio and back to Y/n, which. He soon nods.

"Yes, that's usually where the head composer of the music stores most of the instruments when not in use in the recording booth. And also other stuff is stored down there, I usually go down there to break something just because." Bendy didn't seem to be bothered at the fact he admitted purposely breaking something—well. Not much of a surprise as he was the definition of a mischievous trouble maker. A small airy laugh came from Y/n before she looked over to the elevator doors that opened with a automatic; 'ding'

The two stepped into the elevator, once in the elevator Bendy yet again pressed a button to the lowest floor of the studio.

"How did you sneak them in here last night?" Y/n asked.

"The emergency exit."

"...." Y/n looked at Bendy with furrowed eyebrows. Bendy noticed and his pie cut eyes looked over to her. "What?"

"Me and Panchito came in through the emergency exit and we almost got caught." She said, the memory basically playing vividly in front of her. Bendy lets out a snarky laugh.

"Tough luck, toots. I can fool basically anyone there is—"

"Hey! Watch my horns you vile woman!" Bendy shouts. Alice Angel—another one of the company's loving and famous characters, had her hand on Bendy's hand. And her knee on his back, basically pinning him to a wooden table that was in the hallway—more of a desk that was in front of the elevator where Bendy and Y/n once stood in. But upon reaching the last floor, they were met with two figures in front of the elevator. Alice Angel and Boris. Alice being the one who was mostly on the side of suspiciousness and hostility, which ended with her pinning Bendy to the table. And Boris holding onto Y/n by her book bag. Y/n didn't take much of a chance to try and free herself as she didn't want to appear too much of a bad person as the two thought she was.

The basement area was much different from how the upper part of the building was. The floors weren't linoleum, instead it was a dusty wooden floor, with various rooms—which seemed to not be in use—but. Her focus wasn't much on the aspect of her surroundings, but more trying to get on the good side of Alice and Boris.

Alice leaned down next to Bendy's head.

"Where's your other two friends, huh? You think that stunt you pulled last night got past me and Boris? Sure the others, but I'm positive there were more of you than just the gal' over there." Alice motioned towards Y/n, who was slightly lifted from the ground by her bookbag by Boris. Who mostly had his focus on Bendy.

Bendy soon made a noise and then gave Alice a betrayed expression.

"Are you really interrogating me?" He asked, moving his lower body to not cause a strain to his chest that was pressed harshly into the desk.

"Yes, I am. Maybe I wouldn't be if you weren't so sneaky—I mean. How did you even slip past Henry like that?" Alice scoffed, Bendy made a blank expression for a moment, deep in thought, Alice then turned her gaze to Y/n.

"You. You're Y/n, right?" She asked. Y/n was debating to really answer her question—was she in trouble? No she couldn't be—she was positive that Boris and Alice were Bendy's friends—-they literally work in the same company and industry.

"Yes..I am." She replied. Alice then looked back at Bendy. Who had yet to reply.

"What are you two up to? I wouldn't be so on edge if you came straight forward and told me." She said. Bendy snorted and smiled. "Oh please, toots. You think if we were doing something illegal, I would tell you?"

"Well are you?"

Bendy opened his mouth to speak, but—he seemed to stop himself before closing his mouth slowly. Alice then quickly pushed herself away from Bendy. Placing her fingertips to her mouth in bewilderment, a light and dainty gasp emits from her.

"Bendy! Stop pulling my leg—are you serious?" She said. Bendy gets up from the table, fixing his bow tie before looking at Alice. Boris finally spoke up, placing Y/n on the ground.

"And what exactly did you do?" Boris asked.

"Oh please. I didn't do anything illegal—"

"Hola!" Bendy quickly turned around and was met with Panchito and Oswald. Who managed to track down where the sudden commotion was coming from. Alice gasped at the two new toons. Boris' ears perked up slightly at the two. Oswald looked between Alice and Bendy, knowing the two made a mistake with their sudden appearance. Oswald proceeded to try and grab Panchito's arm to drag him away from the eyes of the two new toons. But. Panchito took sight of Y/n and shot towards her, Y/n wasn't able to respond quick enough when she felt his arms encircled her body, her footsteps becoming unbalanced as Panchito yipped in glee.

"Ah! Mi cariño,¡Te veo tan mal!" He let her go and quickly took both of her hands. Y/n had a smile on her face at the boisterous and affectionate rooster. A nice feeling came from someone that cared about her with so much passion with little time. It seemed he cared a lot for his friends and the people he surrounded himself with.

"Wh—wait—who? Bendy!" Alice quickly moves her attention back over to Bendy. Who only gave her a patient expression. Alice motioned around them, as if wanting him to explain all of what was happening.

"Explain!"

"Okay! Come on! God!"

The 6 stared down at the black leather book that was sitting on a dusted wooden table in the lower area of the studio—where they still resided in. Bendy explained in the exact same sense that the three managed to figure out last night. The reason for the book and the two other toons along with Y/n. Boris had a hand in his hip as he stared down at the book. Alice had her eyebrows furrowed. With Bendy finally telling her all of what was happening, she was no longer hostile or angry like she once was several minutes ago. Oswald had yet to speak. Instead opting to keep his mouth zipped as Bendy was the one to reiterate and retell everything.

"So...if me and Boris tried to open the book—we wouldn't be able to?" She asked. Within listening to Bendy and hearing the fact the book chose people—specific people—specifically, Y/n, Oswald, Panchito and Bendy.

Alice could only grow curious if she would be a chosen toon—not to mention, a bit jealous that Bendy—out of all toons out there—was one of the chosen.

"Go ahead. Open it." Bendy had his arms behind his back with a growing grin, Alice cautiously watched him before she placed her fingers on top of the book before picking it up. Y/n could watch at first as she tried to slightly open the book—but surprisingly the book was shut tight. As if it were locked to the teeth. This was her first time seeing the book do something by refusing to open to someone other than her and the three other toons.

Boris' ears perked up yet again, looking over at Alice as she tried tugging at the book harshly.

"Gosh—this thing is….locked...tight." She strained her last word as she tried to pull and tug at the book. But to avail or amount of power, did it open.

"Whoa…" Y/n whispered to herself...that..was something new and..that confirmed to the fact that she was one of the 12 chosen people for the book.

"Let me try!" Boris snatched the book from Alice, who yelps in surprisement. Boris tried to open the book as well, but as for Alice, he received the same. It wouldn't open, not a budge. But he didn't seem to stop. Instead he pulled harder and harder. Alice tried to grab at the book, but Boris moved away from her.

"Hey! Give it back!" She said. But Boris didn't reply and continued trying to get into the book. Alice seemed to have enough of Boris hogging the book. She turned over and took a wooden plank—that seemed to have been pulled from the floor. Turning back over to Boris. She rose the plank above her head and quickly slammed it down on Boris's head with a loud; WHOMP!

Boris was stiff as a board. Dropping the book onto the floor. His two black pie cut eyes turning into two X's as if the plank killed him! Stars and birds tweeting appeared above his head and he dropped to the ground with 'Thud!'

Still dazed at the fact he was hit in the head. Y/n covered her mouth with a gasp—yet a sniffle of laughter—seeing how animated they were in front of her and not on screen was way different.

"Wasn't able to hit one of the boys with an object in so long—I still got it." Alice quipped, a smile appearing on her face before she reached up and fixed her halo. Bendy walked over and picked up the book that was by Boris' foot. He walked over to Oswald and handed it to him, which Oswald took gracefully.

"It's not a toy." Bendy told the two...even though Boris seemed unresponsive. Alice huffed.

"But, why is it picking select people, surely the book has to be a warning for something," Alice said.

"We're learning as we go. We don't know what it is that's making this book go on a scavenger hunt." Oswald replied. Bendy nods in agreement with Oswald's answer. Alice tapped her elbow with her finger for a moment. Panchito and Y/n stood next to each other silently watching them all speak—well. Now besides Boris.

"You said some person with a trench coat was after the book, right?" She asked. Oswald seemed to grimace at the mention of the anonymous person. "Yes. Him, he wants the book. Reason why he held me hostage, so I can be his personal key for the book." Oswald said. Alice looked as Oswald, and her optics flickered towards the book momentarily.

"How did he know you were one of few people to access the book?" She asked. Oswald—surprisingly had an answer for that. Lifting a hand he tapped his chin in deep thought.

"Well, now that you've mentioned it. I remember overhearing about a witch that he went to to track me down. Or—as he said. Feel my energy in the area, which I could assume that's how he found me." Oswald said.

"A witch? We have those down here…?" Bendy mumbled under his breath in deep thought. Alice ignored the devil and thought for a moment.

"Magica." Y/n piped up. Oswald, Alice, Bendy and Panchito looked over to her when she spoke up.

"The duck, she must be the witch that man spoke to. It wouldn't be too far from wrong—but I wouldn't exactly say I'm right either." Oswald shook his head as Y/n spoke.

"No, no. Now that you've said something about her, I believe she must be the witch he was talking to. Why else would she and the beagle boys be at the bar last night to get me and stop you and the others." Oswald said. Alice hummed slightly to get everyone's attention.

"Me and Boris can be in sight while you all are out of town." Alice suggested. Boris had groaned after finally lifting himself from the ground. Rubbing his head from the impact of the wooden board.

"What for?" Bendy asked.

"Well, if you all will be out of town. Who knows what would be going on down here. Seeing you all don't have a clue what your objective is it would be best to have others who can keep eyes out for what's going on—and in case you all haven't noticed, tons of news went down in the past week." She looked at the four and then crossed her arms. Bendy didn't really seem too pleased with getting help from Alice but he had to admit..she was right. He rarely cared for anything media wise—political wise—or...damn near anything in that field.

"No th-"

"She's right, Bendy. Honestly I haven't taken a glance at a TV to see what's going on with the tension between toons and humans in some time, it would be best to have someone have tabs of all what's going on that might be a reason for or a build up for causing this book to wake up." Oswald agreed with Alice. Y/n soon raised her hand slightly.

"I agree too. I didn't know anything about the book of Vida until I was here yesterday watching the news segment with you. We can't just go into everything blindly. We need to have at least some info." She said. Panchito looked between Oswald and Y/n.

“No miro las noticias.” He adds.

"Fine. You can collect Intel." Bendy gave in. Alice smiled and nudged Boris. Who still was a bit dazed—but was still listening to the conversation. Alice soon placed her hands behind her back. Boris had squinted his eyes and looked at everyone with a dumbfounded expression.

"What? What are we talking about?" He asks slowly. But Alice ignored him and continued to talk, clapping her hands together she then shouts.

"Alright! In case you four are unaware—there is a rising tension between toons and humans." Alice announced. Bendy raised an eyebrow (?) And soon made a gesture with his hand for Alice to continue.

"Okay? What about it?" He asks.

"That can be a clue. Obviously something is stirring up, causing conflict between both groups," She said. Boris—who had been silent and trying to catch on to all of what they were talking about, finally understood what the topic was about. Lifting a glove hand slightly, he spoke.

"Oh yes, that. Toons for some reason are experiencing a lot of episodes, causing them to not only do harm to others, but for themselves." He states. Oswald ears slowly rose and he thumped his foot on the wooden floor, as if he had a thought. Y/n noticed, but she didn't say anything. Though she couldn't see too many connections, she could sense Oswald knew something.

"Yes, I've heard about that…" Oswald starts. Bendy didn't seem to understand anything as he only looked at the small group.

"Recently it seems toons—for the most part, popular toons—ya' know. Actors and actresses haven't been too pleasantly taking things too...uh. Well." Oswald said. Alice nods, before she starts to take over yet again.

"Recently we know about one case with a toon lashing out on one of her agents out of anger for—as the headline claimed; Not caring for her—whatever that means." Alice placed an index finger on her cheek. Her dark eyes sliding down to the floor in thought.

"And, for the most part, most confessions and news headlines are pretty much similar. Toon gets angry at a lady for not treating her equally, toons not being able to have a say in their own shows, the list goes on—and we even have some toons committing some crimes such as…" Alice turns her gaze over to Panchito, who was still standing next to Y/n.

"Robbery." She finishes before continuing. Her eyes looking at the group.

"What I'm saying is, there seems to be a rise of toons wanting more equality causing them to act out maybe from anger and or retaliation. And some for the most part, taking the destructive side of things, which are causing humans to be a bit—overwhelmed?—ah, I wouldn't say that, bu—" Alice was cut off by Bendy who waved his hand and clicked his tongue—as if the topic wasn't something that he cared for.

"A few angry toons? You think that's the problem?" He asks Alice. Alice pursed her lips for a moment, shaking her head at Bendy's careless reaction to something that could turn into something potentially serious in the future.

"Bendy, this is serious. It may not seem to be the answer to the reason why that book is on the lookout or search—but it's something to keep an eye out for—for all we know. This might escalate into a scenario where this could be the reason why the book is searching for people to stop this." Alice explains, and Y/n agreed with her. Though there was a good chance the tension between toons and humans isn't the answer to the book, that could be something to keep an eye out for in the future as it could turn into something much more serious and maybe even dangerous.

Out of all things. No one needs humans and toons fighting each other.

"She's right Bendy, if humans start seeing toons as a threat, we don't know how this could end or what would happen to toons further down the line. It may seem small now, but it can be serious in the future." Y/n interjects, Bendy turned his gaze to Y/n.

"What do we look like, the Justice League?" He mocks, repeating what Y/n said from last night, and it seems the tables have turned. Y/n rolled her eyes at his childish reaction. Though...she didn't know what to expect coming from Bendy.

"That's what you told me last night, right? What do you all expect us to do? Restore justice and equality back between humans and toons if all goes bad? And wave a finger at them and say;" he then stepped to the side and looked at the side of him, and shook his index finger, as if scolding a child.

"Now be nice."

He then regained his posture and placed his hands behind his back.

"No. That doesn't work like that. If all, go to—I don't know—the white house and demand them to do their job to stop all what's happening."

Boris was about to lift a finger to wave. But seeing he didn't want to get involved in the mess of a conversation. He slowly put his arm to his side and stayed silent yet again.

Though, Alice rubbed her temple and shook her head.

"I...agree with Bendy." Oswald pipes up. Y/n looked over at Oswald and furrowed her eyebrows. Bendy then smiled widely—as if making a point.

"What? You too? Why?" Y/n questioned. Oswald lifts the corner of his mouth for a second—as if thinking of what to say.

"It's—a long story. I understand where Bendy is coming from—but Y/n. We can't put our focus on society and their problems— not when we potentially have one that revolves around a man in a trench coat, and I'm positive he has nothing to do with the problem between toons and humans, we have to focus on him and getting the rest of our team together." Oswald said. Y/n let out a slight huff through her nose.

"Whatever...fine.." She muttered and looked back at Alice. Oswald was about to speak to her again when he noticed her sour response to his explanation. But, Alice spoke up before he could try to speak.

"Well, me and Boris will keep tabs on them, along with anything else that may come by as questionable." Alice said.

"Great, are we done? Okay! Let's hit the road!"

Y/n sat in the passenger seat of the car, her hand hanging out the window, the wind brushing against her hand as the car drove down the road. The buildings passed by and the feeling of the warm sun invading the car—in which Bendy decided not to turn on the AC for whatever reason.

Panchito and Oswald were in the back of the car, Panchito often shuffling around to find something to distract himself. Due to the fact, Y/n didn't want to drive, yet. Bendy took the responsibility of driving.

"So.." Suddenly Oswald shuffled to the front, his upper part leaning on the arm rest, looking between Bendy and Y/n.

"How long will it be to get to Orgeon?" He asks. Y/n didn't have the answer to that, so she turned to look over at Bendy.

"Well, we left late, thanks to Alice. So most likely we won't arrive until late at night at around 11PM or so. The drive is 10 hours, if we don't make any stops." Bendy replied. His eyes focused on the road. Oswald nods and soon Y/n's eyes tracked across the dashboard of the car in search of the GPS or some sort of system to help guide them to Oregon, but—no doubt. She didn't see the device anywhere.

"No stops? Does that include potty breaks?" Panchito asks, soon squeezed by Oswald, who moves over to give Panchito room to peer up at the front of the car.

"Yes, we can take bathroom breaks. But nothing else, I'm assuming you have to use the bathroom?"

"No."

"Then why did you a-"

"We need a GPS." Y/n interrupts. Bendy looked away from the road and to Y/n. The corners of his mouth twitching—oh yes! The GPS! how could he forget?

"Okay, we're making a stop."

After an hour of driving down a one way road. With lots of fields—letting them know they've made it out of town. They spotted a gas station far to the side. Not much business going on—but good enough to get up on gas just in case, and look for a GPS to use—alongside with buying snacks so not many more stops can be made.

Closing the door to the car, Y/n waited for the three toons to get out of the car. Looking around, she could smell the familiar smell of gasoline and tar pavement. Looking at the janky store. Y/n grimaced.

"This place looks horrible.." She said. Bendy walked past her. He nudged her arm as he did so.

"It's an off road gas station, toots. What do ya' expect?" He said as he walked towards the store. Soon, Y/n followed after. Hearing shuffling behind her, she looked over her shoulder and saw Oswald and Panchito following after her. Pushing open the glass doors to the store. Y/n was met with a simple gas store with 3 aisles—as any other gas store would have—nothing too extravagant.

"A convenience store?" Panchito muttered under his breath. He stood next to Y/n and Oswald stood by her other side. The three looked at what the store had to offer as Bendy was busy talking to the cashier for a GPS—if the store had any.

"I'm getting some chips." Y/n walked off to one of the aisles, in search of at least some decent snacks to keep her filled throughout the drive. Once seeing the small selection, she randomly grabbed the variation of chips and some candy bars for everyone. With a hand full of snacks she wandered back out of the aisle. So happening to walk past Oswald and Panchito who were by the slushies stand. Panchito was sitting on top of the slushie machine, the lid was open and he was digging around in the machine, digginging around in it as Oswald was holding down the lever to drink from the slushie machine. It seemed Panchito was pushing the slushie down the tube so more could come out as Oswald held down the lever and drank from the machine as if it were some sort of water fountain. Y/n quickly walked over. And with her foot she nudged Oswald's ankle.

"Hey! Hey—you two. Stop it—-Panchito, get down from there. Now." Y/n ushered and scolded at the two. Meanwhile Bendy was watching as the person was counting the money Bendy gave, the cashier didn't even bat an eye to where the three were. Bendy soon landed his eyes on a small green box—a GPS—just what they needed!

Though it was behind the cashier. Meaning he would have to ask to purchase it.

"The GPS. How much would that be?" Bendy asked. The cashier soon looked over their shoulder to the box that was on the shelf, looking at the price tag that Bendy didn't so happen to see. The cashier turned back around and replied.

"That'll be one-eighty," They replied. Bendy's tail went stiff as he glanced back at the GPS. "A dollar and 80 cents?" He asked slowly—-not no surprise, the cashier shook their head before replying.

"One hundred and eighty." They corrected him. Soon—Y/n stood next Bendy. Dropping the bags of chips on the counter, after scolding at Oswald and Panchito, she finally got them to behave—appropriately. Only to be met with Bendy, who was in deep thought.

"What are you making that face for?" Y/n asked Bendy. His pie cut eyes were slanted—as if he were in deep thought. His semi-permanent smile lowered as if he were frowning—yet he wasn't upset—just thinking.

"The GPS cost an arm and a leg—that's what." He replied to her. Y/n squints her eyes in confusion, her eyes sliding over to where Bendy had his gaze pinned on. And it was the GPS. And it was almost 200 dollars...at a gas station?!

"Here you guys go." The cashier handed the two their bags, which Y/n took.

"Come on. We'll just use my phone for now until we run into another gas station." She told Bendy, which he turned from the box in defeat at the fact he couldn't purchase the god forsaken device. And with that, the small group walked from the store and back over to the car that was parked by one of the pumps. Y/n opened one of the back doors and tossed the bags to the back seat were Oswald and Panchito would be sitting. She noticed a small white cardboard box on the floor with the symbolic red cross. That must have been the first aid box Bendy was talking about.

Reaching into the car, she grabbed it and opened the box, thankfully it had box filled with band aids and bandages, taking out the gauze and the peroxide to kill whatever germs would have gotten into the rope burn, Y/n placed the box down on the seat and opened the disinfectant bottle. Pouring the liquid on both of her hands. Oswald spotted Y/n with the bottle, she saw his figure stand in front of her, causing her to glance away at her hand.

"What?" She asks.

"Need help?" Oswald peered down at her hand and noticed the two burn marks on both of her palms. His ears raised slightly—almost cautiously.

"What happened?" He asks. He reached down towards the car seat and grabbed the wrapped up gauze in the white box before. He took Y/n's left hand and started wrapping her palm in the bandage.

"It's a rope burn." She answered. Oswald nods—putting his focus on wrapping the bandage comfortably around her hand, after doing so—and surprisingly ripping the bandage without scissors needed, he moved to the next hand, Y/n looked at her now bandaged left hand, flexing her fingers to make sure it wasn't too tight, but no doubt, Oswald wrapped it up just fine. Y/n looked away from her hand and to Oswald—who was still focused on wrapping her hand up, with a small smile when he was finished Y/n thanked him.

"Thanks. I probably would have done a shit job wrapping it up." She said. "No problem." He returned the gratitude and placed the gauze back into the white box.

Placing the pump back in its holster, Bendy finally spoke up;

"Alright, let's go-where's Panchito?" Bendy looked away from Oswald and Y/n and across the small gas station. The rooster was holding onto something—tugging it back, looking closer, they could see that he was trying to keep the book from floating away. Which Panchito saw that the three were looking over, his talon lifting from the ground as he tugged harder back to the ground to keep the book from floating away.

"A little help?!" He cried out. Soon the three rushed over to Panchito, Y/n hopped up and grabbed a hold of the book to tug it back down. Oswald grabbed Panchito's talon and tugged him back down to the ground. Bendy grabbed Y/n's ankle to tug her back down as well. Being the anchor for the book did help momentarily. But with a split second the book shot from both Panchito's and Y/n's grip, causing them to fall to the ground. The book didn't fly away as suspected. Instead it tossed itself to the concrete and the book flipped open. Pages flipping one after the other.

Y/n groaned in exhaustion. Hitting the ground abruptly like people did in those films were nothing like real life. It was painful.

Bendy was about to walk over to pick the book up. But Oswald placed a hand in front of the demon toon, stopping him from walking. "Wait. Let it do what it needs to do." He said. Which Bendy listened to Oswald. Soon the book stopped from it page flipping and quickly a page ripped itself out. The beige tinted paper levitates above the open book. The Golden tint that Y/n and Panchito saw from last night, surrounding it yet again.

Soon, it folded itself up into what resembled to be a paper airplane.

"...what..?" Y/n muttered. Heaving herself off the ground to look at the paper. But before anyone could interject the paper shot off! Out of the gas station and down the one way road. That same transparent trail leading the way. Y/n soon caught on.

"It's just trying to lead us." She told the three. Panchito was silent for a second before understanding what she meant. "Oh yes, like it did last night to Bendy." He recalled. Bendy muttered something under his breath, most likely about getting hit by the book abruptly.

Oswald soon interjected realizing how mostly blind he was for the last few hours.

"Who exactly is in Oregon that we're going to talk to?" Oswald asks. Y/n walked over to the now still book, and picked it up.

"Donald Duck. Or so we're assuming. The location is in Duckburg, and Panchito knows someone from down there—which is Donald." Y/n explained. Oswald had taken a short moment to think to himself...now why did that name sound so familiar..? Donald Duck….Donald Duck...Oswald was positive he heard the name somewhere. As his foot gently thumped against the pavement as he tried to recollect that familiar name. Y/n closed the book after making sure nothing was damaged. Soon she started walking back to the car.

"Come on! We're knocking off too much time, we need to make it there at least before midnight."

Ah, as the four make their way to Oregon, let's move over to Duckburg, shall we?

Yes, Duckburg. A city filled with—well. Toons. And ducks of course. A popular town in Oregon, most popular for the renowned gazillionaire, Scrooge McDuck. The man who solves mysteries and rewrites history. Also home to a stubborn and low tempered duck, known as Donald Fauntleroy Duck.

The sound of the water breathing and the creaking of the sailboat. A white duck sat in a wooden chair by the edge of the sailboat, his head leaning in the crease of his arm as he lazily stared into the water that rippled in motion from the sailboat rocking back and forth ever so slightly.

The nylon rope that attached itself from the dock to the boat, creaked with the motion of the boat.

Donald rarely ever had silence, just. Pure silence. With most of his time being taken up with caring for his 3 nephews, now that their mother was back...there was really no need for him to keep much of an eye out for the 3. It has been almost 3 weeks since his 3 nephews left town to spend time with their mother that they so rightfully deserved. Yes. It was a break from the 3 rowdy boys, but they left a presence—Donald missed his three nephews. And he wasn't used to the silence that now endeavors the sailboat.

Scrooge, yes. Was still in town, but was busy doing his own thing...being rich, obviously.

You would think with the current plethora of time, someone who spent years taking care of kids would find something to do with their alone time—such as a favorite activity or even sleep. But Donald couldn't find anything to do. No one to talk to—as if he had many people to converse with anyway. He quit being in the industry starring as a toon a long time ago, and he didn't think about going back, ever. Especially with the new toons he's seen on TV.

Maybe a trip? No, he'd much rather have went on a trip with the boys instead of being by himself.

Continuing to pass the time by listening to the serene ambience around him. He suddenly flinched at the feeling of something sticking in his feathers.

Donald stood up with a grunt and reached back to pluck something from his tail feathers. Once bringing it to his view, he saw it was folded paper—that resembled an airplane. Furrowing his eyebrows, Donald turned around to see who would have thrown the paper at him, but was met with no one but the buildings from the town and—well, nature.

"What the…" he looked back down at the paper, assuming by accident the wind caught a hold of it, that way it hit him. He crumbled up the paper. And tossed it to the side. Where it landed in a nearby trash can.

Donald fixed his black sailor uniform before taking a few steps forward to go inside, but the trash can jolted slightly. As if someone kicked it. Donald flinched and whipped in the direction to face the trash can. His feathers ruffled up—now he was cautious. The trash can jolted yet again, causing it to tip over, and out rolled the balled up paper that Donald tossed in a few moments ago. Along with a few other things that were tossed away.

"..." Donald stared at the paper with wide eyes. Looking to the left and then to the right, he took a few steps forward, stopping in front of the paper, with a webbed foot, he gently kicked the paper—which it rolled slightly. As it rolled the paper uncrumpled itself. Laying flat as if it were never crumbled, not a crease shown. This was..odd. Donald never seen anything like this before. Of course his Uncle Scrooge dragged him to odd and life threatening adventures, but those adventures hadn't happened in a while.

Reaching down. Donald picked up the paper. The golden aura illuminated slightly under the sun. Words had been scribbled onto the paper in what seemed to be in ink. Donald lifted a finger to see out of curiosity if he could smear the ink. Which he couldn't. Holding back onto the paper with both his hands he read aloud the words on the paper.

"Just...keep following..the trail…" Donald ready slowly. Squinting his eyes gently. Looking up to see if he could see a trail. He saw nothing. Looking back at the paper. Donald tilted his head in confusion.

"What?" He asks himself. As he spoke, the paper lit up slightly. His confused statement was soon written down on the paper.

'What?'

"Whoa…" he said in awe. Donald tilted the paper, took a look to see if he can try and activate anything that can happen, but—he couldn't. Quickly flipping the paper back to the right position to see ink was once again writing another statement.

'What? Hello?'

Donald soon was starting to think that maybe he got in contact with someone through the paper…? But how?

He was trying to register all what was happening and how to react. Obviously, what he was holding was no ordinary paper.

"Hello." Donald replied, and as it did it once before. His statement was written down in the paper—for whoever was receiving it, to reply back. This was...exciting. New. But...odd. Where did this paper come from and why is it here?

And way over, Y/n was the one who had replied to Donald.

Six hours had passed in the car. Panchito was sound asleep in the back. As Oswald was looking out the window, watching the fields pass by. Bendy was still driving and as for Y/n...she discovered something new about the book.

The book laid open in her lap. She stared down at the greeting;

'Hello.'

Whoever it was was receiving what she was saying as it wrote whatever she said down. And the same coming from whoever was on the other end.

"Hey, for some reason I'm able to speak to someone on here." Y/n turned to look at Bendy, and then turned her gaze to Oswald. Oswald looked away from the window and to Y/n. Leaning forward he peered down at the book in her lap to see the words screaming on the paper as if some sort of transcript.

"The book can talk too?" Oswald asks. He soon heaved himself up, slightly nudging Y/n to scoot over with his foot.

"Scootch." He said. Y/n complained slightly. But moved over towards the left so Oswald could sit by the door. Plopping into the seat, Y/n saw the book wrote down what Oswald said.

'The book can talk too?'

Which, whoever read it. Already replied by the time Oswald sat down.

'Book? What book? My name is Donald'

Y/n mouth slowly opened as if she silently gasped. Oswald read the reply as well. His ears immediately shot up, almost hitting the ceiling of the car.

"Look! Bendy, it's Donald!" Y/n shows the book to Bendy. Who finally focused on the new topic. Glancing at the book. His focused expression soon turned to one of surprisement.

"Wait—how did—"

"Wait! You mean, Donald Duck?!" Oswald shouts. In what seemed to be anger. This caused Panchito to snort and abruptly wake up. His eyes squinting at the sunlight. Bendy glanced at the road and to Oswald. As Y/n gave Oswald a puzzled yet cautious expression.

"Are you mad?" Bendy asked. Oswald looked between the two, his arms crossed for a moment before he increased them to try and think of an excuse. His ears lowered slightly. "No." Was all he said. Now he knew. Donald Duck. The Donald Duck...how did he not know..?

Y/n slowly looked back at the book to see another reply from Donald.

'what's going on?'

"What does it say?" Bendy asks, he was too busy staring at the road to read the book. But Y/n took care to read out the question Donald asks.

"He asked what's going on." She repeats. Soon, Oswald took the book from her hands.

"We'll explain when we get there, it's me, Oswald and three others, short story, we have a book. And we need to see you. So be there and stay there." He said. And the exact words were written on the paper. A few seconds later, a reply from Donald scrawled on the paper.

'Oswald? Why if it isn't my pal! Who're the other three? When will you be here?'

Y/n and Oswald read the reply and soon Bendy glanced over at Oswald. "You have some sort of vendetta or something against him, or?" Bendy trailed off to see if he could get an answer from Oswald. The rabbit muttered something before reply.

"I'd rather keep it to myself. And no, I don't have a problem with him." Oswald replied. But Y/n wasn't too focused on their conversation, but more with trying to get to know the new member of the team, and that being Donald!

"Hi, my name is Y/n. Long story short, there's four of us right now, and we're looking for nine other people, what you're holding onto right now, is a piece of this book, I'm only assuming if we can communicate from a piece of paper, you're one of the people of our team that we're looking for, as Oswald said. We're on our way to Duckburg, stay there, and we'll tell you everything."

Y/n's short explanation copied itself onto the paper as it did before. Oswald leaned closer to look into the book.

Soon. Donald replied.

'Alright, I'll be here then.'

Donald even gave the address to them, even though the faint golden hue that was leading them down the roadway was enough. It was good to have his address as well.

"Well this made this a thousand times easier." Bendy spoke up. Y/n closed the book with a nod. Leaning back into the seat, which wasn't much room as Oswald was squeezed into the seat as well. But he didn't seem to want to move either way.

"We should be there by nightfall. So we'll have plenty of time to speak to Donald and get him caught up." Oswald glanced back out the window. Y/n looked over at Oswald. Who once again was back into his pool of thoughts. Y/n turned slightly to look into the back of the car. And found Panchito sound asleep yet again. His sombrero was now on the floor as his head leaned on the window, sleeping peacefully, Y/n was sure Panchito was exhausted with the amount of traveling he did to find Y/n and the others. He deserved the rest. Sitting back yet again, Y/n watched the road pass by. Bendy yet again placing his focus on the road.

"Y/n. Wake up—-wake up….Hey!"

"Ow!" Y/n flinched at a painful pinch to her arm. Her eyelids shooting over and her optics turning over to meet Bendy's pie cut eyes. He was standing on the passenger side, the door was open. And Oswald was seen in the background standing next to Panchito. Behind them was a sailboat. The sun seemed to have been down for hours as the stars were out, the moon as well. Shining brightly in the sky for all to see. The lights on the sailboat glimmering in the chill night sky.

"We're here. You were asleep the entire ride here." He adds. Y/n for a moment was disappointed at the fact she was asleep for so long, missing half of—well she didn't miss anything serious. But—either way, she wished she was up for the majority of the ride.

"What? Why didn't you guys wake me up?" She unbuckled herself. Grabbing the book and her book bag that was on the floor. Placing it back in the bag and zipping it up. Y/n tossed the book around her shoulder and closed the door behind her. Bendy then stood next to her.

"Trust me. We did. But that doesn't matter, we're in Duckburg now, and I believe this is Donald's address." Bendy motioned towards the sailboat that Oswald and Panchito were standing in front of. Y/n's eyes widen in awe.

"Whoa…" she didn't know anyone that lived on a boat house..it was..cool to see actually.

"What time is it?" She asked. Walking over to the other two. Bendy trailing beside her. Oswald glanced at his wrist—where a wrist watch would have been.

"11:45PM before midnight." He said in a sly tone. Bendy squints his eyes.

"But you don't have a wrist wa—"

"Donal!!"

"Panchito?!"

Bendy, Oswald, and Y/n looked over to see Panchito sped across the dock and onto the boat, crashing into a white feathered duck. Donald Duck.

Panchito laughed in excitement, locking Donald in a tight hug. Donald doing the same with a smile stretched on his beak, he seemed shocked to see Panchito, a look of familiarity and security washed over his face, Panchito hopped from one talon to the other as his tail feathers ruffling, he took a small step back to take in the sight of Donald, Donald did the same.

“I didn��t know you would be here! I haven’t seen you in so long! You’ve gotten taller, time surely does pass huh?” Donald spoke, his tail feather wagging repeatedly from pure joy, Panchito laughed and nodded his head, he extended his hands to motions towards the three; Oswald, Bendy and Y/n, Donald looked over and spotted the three, almost forgetting they were there. They were standing by the bridge of the dock that connected to the sailboat, Y/n had her focus on Donald and Panchito, and their interaction with each other, it was unbelievable on how the two knew each other and had such a tight and close bond, it was nice to see how exciting their first meeting was.

“This. These are my friends!” Panchito said, Donald’s eyes

Immediately went over to Oswald, who was already looking at Donald, the white duck perked up yet again before he walked away from the dock and over to the three, Panchito trailing right behind Donald.

“Oswald! I’m so glad to see you!” Donald extended his arms and almost immediately pulled Oswald into a hug, it seemed Oswald tried to back away from the hug by taking a step back and putting his hands up, but Donald didn’t seem to notice, wrapping his arms around Oswald, the rabbit deflated at the hold before wrapping his arms around the sailor in a warm hug.

“Yeah...good to see you too, buddy.” Oswald mumbled to him. Bendy looked at Y/n, which Y/n did the same. They both shared the same expression; they both know each other too?

“Oswald, you didn’t tell us that you knew, Donald.” Bendy told the rabbit, Donald pulled away from Oswald at Bendy’s statement, but he didn’t look at Oswald for answers or curiosity, he turned his gaze over to Bendy, Bendy! Donald has seen Bendy plenty of times on TV, though, he hadn’t personally met him, his nephews enjoyed watching the demon on screen, watching as Bendy did tons of crazy acts to other toons he forgot the names of, he was of the generations newest cartoons to be introduced, and Donald was curious to see that the same demon was right in front of him!

Bendy smiled and waved at Donald before taking a step forward to shake Donald’s hand, which Donald took hold of Bendy's hand, the two shaking each other’s hand.

“Hiya! My name is Bendy, it’s an honor ta’ meet the Donald Duck! I’ve see tons of ya’ shorts, and y—”

“You kiddin?! It’s an honor to meet you! It’s nice to see rising toons out here, you’ve been such an icon lately!” Donald and Bendy went back and forth in a conversation that Y/n slipped away from when she caught sight of Oswald, Oswald was still standing off

To the side, watching the two speak, they

Sound like businessmen of some sort, as if they could finally, Relate to each other in some way or form, Bendy and Donald momentarily being in their own world, Donald tagging in Panchito who stood by them, listening to their conversation.

Oswald didn’t seem too interested in the conversation, his left hand rubbing his right arm up and down slowly before he looked off somewhere else, Y/n didn’t know too much about Oswald, but she was certain there was something there about him that made him act the way he did, his sudden angry outburst, his strange way of showing a greeting to Donald, now thinking on it, Y/n didn’t know much about Panchito either—other than he lives somewhere in Mexico and not America, and Bendy—she also didn’t have much about him either.

“Y/n!” Y/n looked away from Oswald and over to Panchito, who a few meters away was beckoning her over to Donald and Bendy, the other two looked at her as Panchito had his arm wrapped around Donald’s shoulder, once he saw he got Y/n’s attention, he smiled widely and said; “Come here Querida, come meet my closest friend!”

Y/n placed a smile on her face and walked over to the three, Donald immediately held out his hand for a hand shake, a smile stretching onto his beak. Y/n took his hand and shook it.

“Nice ta’ meet ya’ toots!” He introduces, Y/n felt her smile widen, such positive energy from meeting a new person once again invaded the air, she knew of Donald Duck, of course who wouldn’t? Meeting him was a nice feeling she didn’t even think she would have the chance to get.

“Hi, my name is Y/n, Y/n L/n, it’s nice to meet you, Panchito seems very fond of you,” Y/n looked over at Panchito who smiled at her, looking back at Donald he laughed lightly.

“Yes, seeing you Donald was the last thing I expected, especially in this circumstance.” Donald seemed to perk up slightly at the end of Panchito’s statement, of course, they were there for a reason! Not just to have a reunion party.

“Oh yes, you guys mentioned a book, right? Come in, we’ll discuss it inside.” Donald waved his hand for the group to follow him inside the sailboat, Panchito trotted beside Donald, wrapping an arm around Donald’s shoulders as the two started their own conversation, Bendy lifted his arm slightly towards Y/n, causing her

To look at his arm with a puzzled expression, until quickly after she caught on and wrapped her arm

around his arm, but Y/n took sight of Oswald when she glanced over her shoulder to him, he trailed behind, and Y/n noticed a look of contemplation on his face, she then decided to unhook her arm from Bendy’s. Bendy slowly stopped walking and looked over at Y/n.

“What’s wrong?” He asks her, Y/n motioned towards Oswald. “You go in, I’m gonna have a talk with Oswald,” she said, Bendy looked at Oswald

For a moment, who noticed the two stopped walking and he did too. Bendy looked back at the sailboat and then back at Y/n. She motioned for him to go in with her hand. “Get Donald caught up, we’ll be in there soon.” She said, Bendy nods before walking off without a second thought, looking away from Bendy’s retreating form, she heard footsteps near her, looking back over to her opposite side she saw Oswald standing next to her.

“You seem a bit disconnected.” She started, Oswald ears raised as he stared at the open door of the sailboat house, the golden warm glow spilled from the corridor.

Y/n could only assume it was because of the sudden occurring events from the past few hours and the fact that Oswald kidnapped the odd man that they all know could obviously deem him as their enemy.

Looking away from the boat, Y/n looked at Oswald, though he didn’t turn to look at her, instead he spoke slowly.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just exhausted.” Which was partially true, Oswald wasn’t able to get a good amount of sleep last night back at the studio nor in the car on their way to Oregon, Duckburg, but that was only a portion of his obscure change of emotions. Looked around at the quiet dock that led to a small neighborhood, Y/n turned around and walked back over the car, parked on the side by the sidewalk she spoke to Oswald. “Come on, we’ll talk in the car.” She said as she walked to the car to unlock it, which was surprisingly still unlocked. Oswald looked at her for a moment with wide eyes, he was...surprised, no one really took the chance to speak to him, whether that would be on a serious and

personal level, or just in general. So, he followed her.

Once inside the car, with Y/n sitting in the driver seat, she stared out the window for a moment, looking up at the dark sky, the stars shining in the sky and the full moon shining down on the quiet neighborhood, the chirping of crickets in the thickets and bushes and the the buzzing of cicadas hiding in the trees, leaning back in the chair the cool air was now crisp and comfortable to sit out in without having the car running for heat to not freeze the death. Oswald sat in the passenger seat and closed the door once he was seated.

Once hearing the door close Y/n looked back over at Oswald. “I didn’t know you knew Donald,” she tried to start the conversation with the rabbit, Oswald rested his elbow on the arm rest of the car as he looked at Y/n. “Yeah, we know each other, we go way back. I guess you can say.” He answered her. Y/n nods before looking back to the drivers side of the window, she didn’t know much about Oswald to sit and interrogate him about how distant he reacted to certain things, she really didn’t know him enough to demand him to spill his problems to her—if he even had any to begin with and it’s just Y/n misinterpreting his emotions—which she hope it wasn’t that latter. She was trying to find the comfortable route to have Oswald speak to her if he was upset about something, to her, it was better to have a group that’s all on the same page and agree with each other. But, Oswald seemed to already start the conversation himself.

“I uh—want to apologize when we were at the studio, and I agreed with Bendy,” he starts. Y/n tried to think back on what he meant, she took a few moments and realized the small meeting they all had back at the studio with Alice and Boris. Looking back at him, she waved her hand lightly, as if dismissing the thought.

“Oh no, you’re fine—you guys are right, we need to focus on what really matters,” though she slightly agreed with her own statement, she was still on the fence with the 2nd problem growing at hand with society, but thinking on it more...there’s not much she can do to change the mind of society.

“So, tell me about yourself? What do you like to do?” She asks, folding her hands on her stomach so she can put her full attention on Oswald. Oswald’s ears rose, almost touching the roof of the car. “Well, I didn’t expect that question for you—hm...let’s see. I like to travel, I love to meet new people, I used to collect enamel pins, but I gave them away.” He names off several things, and Oswald seemed pretty much like an average toon.

“Why’d you sell the pins?” Y/n asked. Oswald only shrugged slightly, he didn’t have an explanation for that—or just didn’t want to tell her.

“Just didn’t want to keep up with them anymore.” Was his only answer. Nodding, Y/n was silent for a moment.

“How often do you get out?”

“Not as much as I should—what are you my therapist now?” He joked playfully at Y/n’s question, Y/n smiled before shaking her head.

“So, are you really lucky or do you just assume you are?” That question was actually at the back of her head for hours, Last night when Oswald was angry that his ‘luck’ was gone and then later that night, it came back with the situation with the semi-truck rolling, which—that was pretty damn lucky.

Oswald seemed to smile smugly and slick his ears back as if slicking down a hairstyle. “I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but—I am a fairly lucky rabbit.” He winks, Y/n laughs at his silly expression.

“Okay then, hopefully that luck will help us out along the way,” Oswald snorted and shook his head lightly.

“Eh, I dunno, Donald’s luck is pretty bad.”

“He has bad luck?”

“Unluckiest Duck, no one gets stuck with all the bad luck than Donald Duck,” Oswald said. That was interesting, bad luck and good luck? That surely must come in handy.

Sitting in silence looking out the windows and taking in the serene silence. Oswald felt..happy and at peace that someone took a time from their day to have a short one on one conversation with him.

“Hey!” Oswald and Y/n looked over towards the passenger side window to see Panchito in the doorway on the sailboat. He waved his hand for the two to come onto the boat.

“Come on!”

Walking into the boat house, the warm air coaxed Y/n’s figure, Bendy was busy speaking with Donald, he took Y/n’s book bag which had the book in it, Donald was—surprised, not only had the book opened for him—as they all suspected in the first place, this was an odd scenario he had ever been in! Watching as Donald then placed his hand on the book, as the four had done before, he quacked in surprisement when the golden light traced his hand on the page and wrote his name down.

Donald looked down at his palm and then the book, Bendy placed the book on the table that he and Donald were standing near. “Well! That’s that, welcome to the team,” Bendy grinned at Donald, who looks over at Panchito, Oswald and Y/n—who were all watching him.

“Well—what’s next then?” He asked, Bendy closed the book and placed it back into Y/n’s bag. “Well, we can’t say, we so far have been only looking for the rest of the team.” Oswald answered, Y/n nods.

Donald looked at the group and thought for a mere second.

“Well, how about this? You all stay here tonight, and when morning comes, we have a meeting on what the next move should be, you all drove all the way here, so rest should be the first thing in the list.” Y/n was glad not only did Donald have them somewhere to stay, but to seemingly be someone on the team to make the plans—and Y/n could only imagine how much structure they would need in their growing team.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Y/n answered, Bendy then motions towards Y/n. “Well, the lady said it fellas,” he said.

“I call the couch.” Oswald made a straight walk to the couch that was a few meters away, Y/n realized the living room and kitchen was attached, not much of a surprise as this was a small section of the sailboat that could be lived in, small, but

Comfortable for one person.

“So, Donald, are you going to be tagging along with us whenever we leave town?” Y/n walked over to the table Donald was still standing at, next to Bendy. Donald smiled and nodded. “Oh man, will I?! I’ve been meaning to get outdoors in some time, Spending time with my best pal—“ he looked over at Panchito, who wandered over to stand beside Bendy and then Donald looked at Y/n.

“And you guys as well! This would be great.” He replies, that’s good! He wanted to tag along, making things a lot easier. “Ah? Wonderful, this should be fun, I have all these wonderful people around me!”

Panchito extends his arms, motioning towards everyone in the room, a wide smile stretched onto his beak.

“Do any of you have an idea where the others might be located?” Donald asks, Panchito’s arms lowered to his side, Bendy then shook his head.

“We don’t have a clue, but the book for the most part led us to the right people. So, we’ve pretty much been relying on the book to be our guide.” Bendy replied, Y/n agreed with him, yes. For the most part they have been just blindly following that book to lead them to the right person, which for the most part has been proving itself as good. Donald seemed to make a questionable expression, but shrugged it off. If they managed to find him, who was he to disagree with how they were doing their seeking game to find the rest of the team.

He walked over to a corridor on the side of the room, that seemed to be a small hallway. “I’ll go and get more blankets, I’ll be right back.” Donald then disappeared down the halls, Panchito, Y/n and Bendy watched before the three looked at each other.

“This was a lot easier than I expected.” Y/n said.

“Tell me about it, I thought it would take ages to find the guy.” Bendy walked over to the couch that Oswald was busy occupying, placing the book bag on the side of the couch before sitting down. Despite being asleep for half the ride, Y/n did feel fatigue start to seep into her body, despite the fact she was asleep for the majority of the ride, she was still tired from not being able to properly sleep in the car.

“Can we get breakfast tomorrow? All day we’ve been running off of chips.” Y/n pipes up, her optics slowly observing the decor of the room, a pretty simple living with, with a couch—one love seat, a coffee table and a TV. Oswald was about to answer Y/n until Donald walked back in with a pile of blankets, which were really 2 blankets, he stumbled over to the couch due to the big blankets causing him to loose footing slightly, dumping the blankets between Oswald and Bendy, Donald let out a sigh of relief.

“There, those are the ones I could find, if you need anymore I can go get more.” Donald said. Oswald looked at the blankets and shook his head. “This should be fine, Donald. Thanks.”

Y/n grabbed a blanket and tugged it from the pile, The blanket was big enough to sleep just fine—not that it mattered? Any sort of blanket or pillow Donald would have gave her she would have gracefully taken, she wasn’t complaining—after all they all were at his home.

Walking over to the love seat, she took notice that Panchito was seated on one side of it, Though, there was still space for her to sit down next to him, which she did. Panchito noticed and turned his head to look at her with a smile.

And for the rest of the night, it was filled with silence and...sleep.

“Okay. I’m not gonna tell ya’ this another time, mutt.”

The lights flickered on, Boris squinted his pie cut shaped eyes at the sudden light, a small grunt escaping his mouth. He was sitting at a desk that was cluttered with paper—music notes—and other blank pieces of unused paper, the desk lamp turned towards him, the light shining in his eyes as Boris was squinting his eyes to get the light from his face.

“Where’s Bendy…”

Sammy stood across the desk, his hand on the neck of the lamp that was pointing at Boris, a suspicious expression written in his face, his question—sounded more like a statement than a question. Boris' eyes flicked up and down Sammy, who still had that suspicious glint in his eyes. Boris soon rolled his eyes.

“Out of town, like Henry told us.” Was his simple answer, Sammy scoffed before pushing himself away from the desk.

“Ah, bullshit. Do you really think I’ll fall for that? He’s up to something.”

“He’s always up to something.” Boris blankly added in, Sammy waved his hand, As if dismissing Boris to make him silent.

Soon, a new voice popped in.

“Samuel, can we please leave now? I need to read over the new script that just came in, and you’re wasting my time.” Boris and Sammy looked over, Alice was seated in a chair as well, behind the desk—next to Boris. Boris' ears perked up.

“When did you get here?” He asked. Alice sighed before turning her gaze to Sammy, her leg crossed over the other.

“Now, darling. What is it that you want? As said, Bendy’s on a short vacation, most likely to get away from you and ya’ bickerin, you had him behind the eight ball making him practice his music segments,” Alice was very fluent in her words, covering up the fact that she indeed knew where and what Bendy and the others were at and their objective, but she was a strong toon and wasn’t going to break or falter under Sammy’s gaze.

Sammy lifted the corner of his lips in a quick scoff.

“I wasn’t pushing him, he was the one who can’t keep a straight alto for one verse. But that’s besides the point. Alice? Weren’t you the one that grew suspicious of him from that night? You were basically all around the studio yapping about putting the fella in a stronghold for keeping a secret,”

Alice looked at Sammy for a moment, the cogs in her brain turning.. was she really that mad? Wow, she needs to work on that.

“I’m over it now, not my business.” She crossed her arms, Sammy sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Fine, I got work to do anyway.” He turned around and walked over to the side of the room, flicking on the lights in the meeting room, he then opened the door.

“And don’t forget, practice your lines, This is the 3rd time this week you forgot a whole verse, Alice.” He said as he walked out the room, closing the door behind him. Alice watched the door for a moment.

“What’s his deal?” She asks Boris, Boris tapped the table with his index finger. “Most likely mad he can’t finish a drafted music sheet.”

She stood up from the seat, dusting her black dress. Taking a small sigh she then looked over at Boris. “Okay. Back to the real news, have you collected anything last night? Any information?” She asks the wolf. Boris thought for a moment.

“Hmm..I dunno. Nothin’ too eye catchin’, I would remember more if you didn’t hit me in the head.” He eyed Alice for a moment before standing up from the seat, Alice only hummed before going back to task at hand.

“Well, I couldn’t find much of anything last night either, other than Tommy’s small infatuation with pine cones.” She said. Alice walks around the desk, and over to the door, Boris follows behind her as the two exit the room and into the hallway. It was the next day—9AM to be exact and many people were already in the studio, doing their jobs and whatnot.

“So. Why do we need to be the lookout for intel again?” Boris asks. Lifting a hand to scratch behind his ears. Alice walked down the hall with a confident stride in her step. She fixed her silky hair before she pushed up two doors that led to the office area of the building.

“Boris, hun—we’ve been over this.” Alice said. The sound of people chattering, keyboards, paper and other machines filled the air. Walking over to a desk—similar to the receptionist desk at the lobby of the building—Boris stood next to Alice as the two looked at Annie who was looking through a set of papers.

“Sorry we’re late Mrs. Bell. Sammy had us in a hold again.” Alice smiled at the lady. Annie looked away from the papers and to Boris and Alice. Giving the two a welcoming smile she lifted two stacks of paper and placed them on the desk, in front of Alice and Boris.

“Ah, no worries dear. Here’s the new scripts that just came in last night. I gave Henry’s Bendy’s script whenever the fella gets back in town.” Annie told the two. Alice nods as she lifted a pen from a cup that was on the desk and wrote her name down in the screenplay—to keep track of it.

“So, how has your mornin’ been Ms. Bell?” Boris asked. Though he didn’t take his eyes off the screenplay.

Annie had gone back to organizing the many papers on the desk—she always wanted all her desk organized.

“Pretty well, got here early since my nephew went back to Colorado for school and I didn’t have to make him breakfast—Henry told me earlier he saw a restaurant that didn’t Allow toons. Turns out there’s a law now that has been passed about a week ago where any human that doesn’t feel safe about toons has the will to not allow them in certain establishments. Crazy because I never even been notified from any article or news report about the crazy new law—to be honest that’s just horrible.”

This caused Alice to fumble in whatever else she was writing on the paper, the crooked line on the paper was soon ignored as Alice looked at Annie. Boris did the same as well. Annie sighs and shakes her head.

“I know Deary. Disappointing. I never knew this would be like this. The board last night had a meeting with Henry. Lately there have been some complaints from parents that Bendy’s appearance is too inappropriate for the kids, you know. Since he resembles a demon and all. But—that’s an issue we can’t fix no matter the complaints—but—he said that the board wants the entire cast out for a meet and greet to show a good face for the show—you know. Not to have any heads start turning to us with this whole toon debacle. Last thing we need is people trying to talk bad about you all just because.” Annie said. Boris tilts his head slightly.

“They want us to do a character meet and greet to show that we’re...good? Basically. Tha—“

“Seems like a bunch of bologna!” Shouts a scruff voice. Alice sighs as her shoulders sunk. An expression of annoyance written on her face. Three toons walks over, the show's antagonists— yet 3 silly and lovable characters.

Charley, Barley and Edgar. The one speaking, the head honcho, Charley. The toon pushed Boris and Alice over to squeeze between them. Lifting a forearm to lean on the desk and look at Annie.

“3 screenplays, if ya’ will. Make it snappy.” He grins. Annie only lets a small laugh out, picking up three screen plays. She hands them over to Charley, he takes them and toss them behind his back, the three script books flew in the air and back down—aiming right above the eyepatch wearing toon, Barley.

Barley looks up and the two scripts fall onto him, causing him to fall to the ground with a; “oof!” He lifts a hand up as if to say something, but the 3rd script falls onto him with a loud; Thud!

“So, where’s Ben-man? Am I late to somethin’ or what? And why the hell is Sammy runnin’ around shoutin? We ain’t even start blocking the script yet.” Charley stands up straight and looked between the three.

“And what’s with the faces?”

“We!—“ Alice clears her throat from the sudden shout—she didn’t have time for Charley and his obnoxious and egotistical attitude! She was

More focused on speaking with Annie about the discussions Henry had with the board.

“We were discussing something, Charley. Now if you don’t mind. Can we continue it without you being a disruption.” Alice places her hands together as she smiled at Charley, her cheeks prominent as she gave him an innocent expression. Her golden halo flickered for a moment. She was lying.

Charley stared at her for a moment with furrowed eyebrows.

“What are ya’ bluenosin’ for? What are ya’ ladies gossiping about this time? I wanna know my onions too!” He looks over at Boris.

“Yer in on this too or something’?! gee biz—what the hell am I? Dirt? Let me in too!” Charley then started to complain about not always being in on the fun. Alice signed and rubbed her temple at the complainants.

“Oh hush, Charley. Bendy is out of town. And we’re discussing how the board meeting went last night for Henry.” Annie stopped Charley from talking. Charley rose an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“Oh? Ya’ meant how Henry’s been pullin’ his own hair about how the peeps have been getting angry about Bendy being a demon toon—if ya’ ask me. We should just put him back in a Tutu, that’ll make em’ shut up. Or are ya’ talkin’ about how Henry plans on Havin’ us interact with people at this kids birthday party next Friday.”

“A what?” Boris and Alice said in unison. Alice slammed her hands on the table.

“A birthday party?! What idea is that? How would that help the view on toons—that makes no sense!” Alice sighed and rubbed her forehead. Annie sighed softly.

“Well, Alice. It’s for the best right now. Business things—that’s what I also say when things don’t make sense.” Annie told Alice.

“Squeak Squeak!” Edgar waddled over. Speaking in his own language of squeaks. Charley nods—understand what the spider toon said.

“Yeah, me too.” Charley agreed with..whatever it was

Edgar said.

Alice picked up her script and took Boris by the collar of his shirt and started to walk away.

“Thanks for the info, Annie. C’mon Boris. We got work to do.” Alice dragged Boris—he stumbled behind her, Edgar waved goodbye as Boris waved goodbye back. Barley still on the floor. Mounted by the three scripts and Charley looking at the two with squinted eyes.

“Is it me—or does she seem more quippier than usual?” Charley asks Annie. Annie raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not even a word.”

Edgar watched as Alice and Boris walked away. The spider toon followed after them, stepping over Barley—who was still on the floor and groaned when Edgar climbed over him. Charley noticed that the spider butcher was walking away.

“Ed, where are ya’ goin?” He calls out. But Edgar didn’t reply.

Meanwhile, Alice walked down the hall, muttering something under her breath, her halo flickering ever so slightly, Boris looked up at his angel friend halo and unhooked himself from her grip—which she didn’t seem to notice. Boris caught his balance and started walking next to Alice.

“Take a breather. Who knows, maybe going to a kids birthday party to spend time with them won’t seem too bad after all.” Boris said in an optimistic tone, but Alice wasn’t having it. Scoffing—the angel shook her head before she turned around and moved to stand in front of Boris. Boris noticed and stopped walking as he gave her a puzzled expression.

“No, don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter how fun the party is! Why do we need to create this—this—this facade, to make sure the audience don’t look at us as if we’re the lunatic toons that are making those crimes, we already had that case with Joey—but that was a few years ago, but still—we’re alive just as much as humans are too—on goodness me, don’t even get me started on the restaurant issue—who do those people think they are—“ Alice went on and on, complaining, but it seemed more like she was venting. Which Boris took notice of. His ears slowly standing on its ends and his tail wagged quickly.

“Wait, Alice. You’re doing what we’ve read from those news articles, complaining.” Boris piped up, cutting Alice off. Alice looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes Boris, dear, obviously I’m complaining—isn’t that obvious—this is—“

“Toons are retaliating.” He cuts her off yet again. Alice stared at Boris. And soon caught whim of what he meant. Alice stared at Boris for a moment. Of course! Toons are reaching their end—they tired of being tossed around like—Well toons! How didn’t she and everyone else not see it to begin with?! It was bright as day.

“Squeak!” Alice looks over, behind Boris to see Edgar, Boris turns around and moves to stand next to Alice so he could look at the spider toon.

“Squeak squeak!” The spider started to squeak incoherently. Waving his two arms around—whatever it was, he wanted to tell Alice and Boris.

Boris only tilts his head in confusion, he could never understand a word Edgar was saying—but it seemed Charley and Barley could always understand their butcher friend just fine.

“What?” Boris muttered. Alice stared down at Edgar.

“Eddie, honey...I can’t understand you, we—you know this.” Alice said softly. Edgar slowly lowered his arms and looked between Alice and Boris. But he didn’t give it—he seemed very determined to tell the two whatever it was he needed to say.

Edgar hopped up and down. Baring his fangs as he came from his mouth. Soon lifting both his arms up, way above his head. Resembling ears before hopping around. Putting his two arms down he extended his arms as if aiming towards something he emitted a small; “pew! Pew!”

Then, he stood up straight and tall. As if to hold a broad and confident stature.

“Uh—horseback riding!” Boris shouts. Alice made a noise before nudging her elbow into Boris’s arms. He grunts and looks at her.

“What? I thought we were playing charades?” He said innocently.

“No, he’s obviously trying to tell us something, But I don’t know what it is..” Alice tapped her chin. Boris inhaled and was about to say something, but Alice cut him off.

“And it’s not horseback riding.” She told him. Boris deflated and his ears flattened against his head.

“I can never have fun..”

Edgar could see the two were still having problems understanding him. Standing there he tried to find a conclusion to make him more understandable. Soon, he scurried away down the hall. Alice opened her mouth to shout after him, but as quick as lighting. Edgar zipped back over and was holding a book—which was just some random novel he took from someone’s desk. Opening it, he dropped it to the floor and zipped away yet again—and back over! This time with a trench coat covering his body—due to him being a small toon. The coat mauled him slightly, but that wasn’t Alice’s concern. Edgar soon opened the trench coat, revealing himself—he wore pencil mustache by his—Well where his nose should have been.

Edgar let out squeaks similar to a cackle before he picked up the book and a triumphant expression rid his face.

“Wait…” Alice whispered. She placed a finger on her temple that...pencil mustache—it resembled someone she was familiar with.

“Boris—did you understand him?” Alice looked over at her Wolf friend. Boris looked away from Edgar who looked up at them with a gleam of hope.

“Uh—“ Boris' tail sagged slightly. Alice crossed her arms.

“Boris!”

“Hey! I’m running off of an oatmeal bar I ate this morning, give me a break!”

Alice waved Boris away before turning her head to look at Edgar. “Eddie, are you telling us you saw Bendy with three others?” Alice asked Edgar. And he nods! She was right! She was on the right page! And not only that—she got answers! A lead! Gosh, she sounded like a detective.

“Were they a rabbit, a rooster and girl?” She asks yet again. And he nods.

“Where were you when you saw them?”

Edgar points up to the ceiling.

“Stargazing? I know right, I heard the stars were out that night, did you see any shooting stars?” Boris asks. Edgar shook his head frantically before pointing up at the ceiling again. Alice raised an eyebrow.

“So, you weren’t outside?”

He shook his head.

“Then where were you?” She asks. And yet again, he points to the ceiling, this time she looks up and sees a vent. Looking back down at him she then wondered;

“You were in the vents? Why?” She asks. Edgar only shook his head side to side as if saying; ‘so-so’

“Long story?”

“Squeak squeak.”

“How come you didn’t tell Charley and Barley?” She asks. Edgar shook his head before baring his teeth and lifting his hands up to his head resembled horns.

“You knew Bendy wouldn’t want that?” She asks. And he nods.

“So you saw whoever was in that trench coat the others were telling me about? Bendy told me and Boris everything. But have you seen that man in the trench coat?” Edgar shivers at Alice question before

Nodding. He pointed at the pencil mustache that was still on his face.

“Well whoever it is has a mustache.” Boris said. Edgar nods—but he didn’t end there. He motioned around their surroundings, as if signaling the area.

“I don’t understand you..” Alice said—shaking her head. What did he mean? What did he mean?

“Do you know for sure all the details on who was in that coat?” Alice asks. Edgar paused momentarily, shaking his hand; so-so—like he did before.

“How did you even see em’ you followed them?”

Edgar bashfully nods his head.

“You know this would be much easier if we just had Charley translate for us. No offense, Edgar.” Boris quips. Alice shook her head. “What? No, I

Specifically told the others that whatever they shared with me and you before they left town, stays between us. I mean..come on Boris—they have a stolen book, we can’t just go around telling anyone. Most certainly not Charley and Barley, Edgar is now an exception because it’s obvious he has more in depth details about what he saw, plus. I like him.” Alice placed a hand on Edgar’s head. The arachnid smiled and purred softly.

Boris crossed his arms. “Biased much. But fine, we’ll do it your way..”

“There is no, ‘my way’—it’s the most reasonable way

So no one gets in trouble.” Alice reasoned with Boris. Boris hummed in acknowledgment.

“Okay, well can he at least write it in a piece of paper? I hate charades—it’s giving me a headache.”

“Fine, let’s go, then later in, we’ll have to contact the others—Detective Alice—wow, never knew I would hear that title—sounds catchy!” She boasted and turned around to walk down the hall with a cheerful stride in her step. Edgar follows behind, squeaking happily.

“Oh brother..” Boris muttered and face palmed before dragging himself to follow Alice and Edgar.

Y/n was still asleep on the loveseat. The blankets was lifted close to her face—cascading her in warmth. Her head leaned in the armrest of the couch. One leg posted up on the other armrest as her other leg hung off the couch.

Slam!

The front door opened harshly and stumbled in..Panchito.

This caused Y/n to flinch. Her heart jumping in her throat as she sat up quickly. Bendy was asleep on the floor, and his head was under the coffee table. When he flinched and sat up. His head hit the table. His hand shot up and held his head as he grunted painfully. Oswald slowly opened his eyes. Which were squinted.

“Panchito—what—why aren’t you asleep? Why are you outside? What’s wrong?” Y/n rubbed her eyes, the blanket fell off her as Panchito walked into the living room.

“I have found—this!” He extended his arms and opened his palm. Showcasing...a turtle. A small turtle.

“I found this little guy by the dock! Isn’t he so cute! I will name him. BB—no! Chirp. Because when I found him. He was making a chirping sound—“

Bendy soon got up and walked over to Panchito.

“Did you really wake us up for a stupid turtle? Go throw it out!”

“Can you guys keep your voices down please, gosh..” Oswald turned his back towards the three and lifted the blanket to his face. Panchito moved the turtle away from Bendy—so the demon wouldn’t try anything as he suspected.

“But—he is so cute. Look at him.”

“It’s a turtle. Put it back.”

“No!”

“Hey!” Oswald shouts before sitting up and turning to look at Bendy and Panchito. The two looked over at the rabbit.

“Cut it out! It’s too early for all that!”

“Actually.” Donald suddenly appeared in the room. Standing near the front door. The sun is brighter than usual. All the way in the sky. Which was odd for a morning sunrise...

“It's 1 in the afternoon.”

Placing the book on the hood of the car. Y/n opened it and started flipping through the papers to find the map. The sun was out and it was pretty hot out. Finding the map yet again been marked with a small ink dot, the last ink dot that marked Oregon was gone. But—that didn’t matter. Seeing Idaho was marked for their next location was a big relief as Y/n was glad they didn’t have to travel overseas to get anyone. And the fact that Idaho was next door to Oregon—the drive wouldn’t be no longer than maybe 8 hours.

“Okay guys, the next location is Idaho.” Y/n turned around and looked at the four toons that waited for her. Donald raised an eyebrow.

“Idaho? What’s in Idaho?” He asks. Bendy snickered and looked over at Donald.

“I don’t know—pppft—get it? Idaho? I don’t know? Hahaha!” He burst out laughing at his corny joke—that really wasn’t a joke to begin with, but he found humor

In it. Oswald lowered his ears and gave Bendy a fearful expression. Looking between Bendy and Y/n—who didn’t even crack a smile at the joke. Oswald spoke up.

“He—he uh...he doesn’t do this often...right?” He asks her. And Y/n hope he didn’t, sitting in a car for 8 hours listening to puns and jokes? She'd rather walk the way there or catch a bus.

“What? No one likes my joke? C’mon! That was hilarious!” Bendy was still laughing through his words. Panchito was silent for a moment. At first he didn’t get it, until he muttered it under his breath again. Soon a look of realization took over.

“Oooh! I get it! Ahaha!” Panchito laughed along with Bendy. “That’s the stupidest joke I’ve ever heard.” Donald said. A blank expression on his face. Not even moved by the joke. Y/n closed the book and walked over the car door and opened the passenger seat.

“Alright! Come on! Let’s hit the road please, I wanna be there before nightfall.”

Y/n watched as the many cornfields passed by—leaving Duckburg about 2 hours ago with no hassle. And it was good that they didn’t need

To take a break. Though, now, with five people in the car, there wasn’t much room as there was to begin with. Oswald did squeeze back up into the front to

Sit in the passenger seat with Y/n again. Panchito and Donald were catching up with each other, talking about their own business. The book was on Y/n’s lap as an hour ago, she was looking through the papers just out of curiosity. Oswald did seem to be on the verge of drifting off to sleep.

But after 40 or so minutes passed. They were now driving in a small town located at the edge of Oregon called ‘WallowDale’—which Y/n knew nothing about. Looking at the green welcome sign. It seemed like a pretty generic town, more so how Y/n would see it as from those cliche TV shows with the kids that lived in the small towns where everyone knew everyone. The town seemed peaceful and nice—the mountain's way in the distance gave such a serene atmosphere.

“You think they have a diner down here somewhere? We should get something to eat.” She said to no one in particular. Oswald opened his eyes—he wasn’t sleeping, more enjoying the sound of the car driving down the road to replace the fact he was abruptly woken up in the morning, or, the afternoon to be correct.

Bendy heard Y/n and snapped from his train of thought from whatever he was thinking about.

“Yeah. I guess food sounds good right about now.”

Stretching, Y/n lets out a strained groaned, feeling relief of the tension leaving her legs, even though they only made it almost 4 hours in the car, she needed to stretch her legs. The soft wind traveled between her fingers and the sun coaxed her in its warmth. Looking ahead of her, Y/n looked at the small establishment—a family owned diner.

“Wow, it looks nice in this town!” Oswald whistled as he took in the small Argo-town. It seemed a bit rural—yet a comfortable place to be.

One of the kids that were seated in the pavement watched as the five got out of the car. A look of awe ridden on his face. The chalk the kid was playing with slipped from his hand and onto the pavement. Toons—they were toons! He’s never seen them before!

Y/n heard the kid gasp and she looked over at the kid to see his eyes glued on her four tooney friends.

“Is this a parking meter?” Bendy didn’t pay attention to the kid—as he didn’t see him, but had his focus on the parking meter. Oswald was standing next to Y/n—but had his attention still in his surroundings and Panchito and Donald were still talking.

The kid waved at Y/n once moving his gaze to her. She smiled at him and waved as well. The kid raised his chalky hands to his mouth and smiled bashfully. What a cutie.

“Okay, come on.”

Inside the diner, classic 50s rock music was heard. The smell of food—whatever was cooking wafted in the air and it smelled delicious! The AC was on, and it immediately cooled down Y/n and the others. Y/n could see the theme of the retro diner, some people were dancing by a jukebox, which caught her attention. She stopped walking and watched as at least 7 people were dancing by the jukebox fluently and gracefully! Some people in their booths and seats clapping along to the music and cheering the people.

“Hm—impressive.” Oswald said. Panchito‘s feathers shook as he hopped from one talon to the other, dancing along with the music rather silly like. This caused Y/n to laugh, a smile widening.

“I like it here. It’s nice. Don’t you guys think?” She asks the four. Donald quickly nods. “I hadn’t heard about this town, but man isn’t this place snazzy.” He said. His eyes trailing over the details in the restaurant.

“I agree.” Oswald agrees. Looking away from the people dancing and over to Panchito who just needed to move—dance. He took ahold of Y/n’s hands? Which caught her by surprise. But she did happily hop around with the rooster. Bendy looked away from the walls of old black and white pictures that caught his attention. Looking over at Panchito and Y/n dancing, a smile quickly appeared on his face.

Afterwards a stout man pushed the flappy doors open that led to the kitchen. He lets out a boisterous laugh, holding a silver serving player with a plate of food on it. He held a spatula and with that spatula he ringed a service bell.

“Jeremy! Your food is ready!” He shouts. Placing the plate on the counter. He must have been a chef as his white stained apron gave it away.

Y/n lets go of Panchito's hands once hearing the loud voice.

“Ay! Alex! The hot cakes are delicious!” Shouts at a customer. Alex—who Y/n assumed the chef's name was. Laughs and waved his head.

“Thank ya! Thank ya! Now—“ the room went silent as the majority of the diners' customers looked over at the chef, was he about to make an announcement?

“I’m glad you all are here fer’ me and my sweet gal’s anniversary! Ain’t that right, shnookums?” Alex placed a hand on the wall and gave it a love filled expression. Bendy gagged, causing Y/n to nudge him to shush him.

“This building brought me many memories! Fifty years everyone! Alex’s Diner!” The customers clapped and cheered for the owner—now that Y/n realized. Alex smiled and nodded at the annocumemt and the cheers.

“Thank you, thank you—and I—“ he immediately stopped talking when his eyes landed in Y/n and four others. An eyebrow raised at the group...were they..not supposed to be there? The eyes on them caused an anxiety to start bubbling in Y/n. Was this a private event? What happened?! Her fingertips went cold and immediately her throat went dry.

“May I help you all? Are you folks lost?” Alex asks. Y/n opened her mouth to speak. Her hands wringing around the straps of her book bag.

“Hi—I’m—we’re sorry. We wanted to eat something and leave, but if you all are having an event, we can just leave?” She didn’t want to make her statement sound like a question, but he did anyway.

“Did you all read the sign before coming’ in?” Alex asks, though his question sounds like a trick question. A hint of sarcasm in his voice? It was something!

Y/n gave a wavering smile. Grabbing Panchito by his wrist, Oswald by his wrist and grabbing onto Donald and Bendy’s tie, she started to back away, bringing them with her.

“Oh? So this is an event. We’ll be on our way then.” She quickly said—stupid move! Why didn’t she see it from the beginning instead of blindly walking in.

“No-no! Dear, come! Sit, I will serve you!” Alex waved a hand to beckon her over to the stool at the counter. Y/n stopped walking and felt a bit of relief.

“Your friends will have to wait outside though.” Was his catch. Y/n hands slipped from her friends. She glanced behind her, to see no one. Who was he talking to?

“Us?” Panchito asked. Pointing a thumb to his chest. Alex nods.

“Yes sir, In case you four toons hadn’t read—“ Alex reached behind the counter and pulled out a flip sign. A pale blue lining around the board and in black words read; ‘No Toons Allowed’

“What?!” Donald shouts abruptly. But, Alex nods. “Yep, but I can serve the young lady. Come sit, I’ll get you something, on the house, dear.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows...when was that a thing? And why was it allowed? That can’t be! It had to be his own store policy.

“This is your store policy?” Y/n asks.

“Countrywide law. Just been accepted as a new optional choice for business owners like myself. Love it or hate it, it’s my rule. Now come sit.”

“No! She’s not sitting, Y/n, let’s go.” Donald took a hold of Y/n’s wrist and started to walk towards the door, but Oswald stopped Donald.

“No, she can stay and eat if she wants, she hasn’t eaten all day, we’ll be fine.” Oswald swatted Donald’s hand away from Y/n’s wrist. Which he lets go. Donald crumbled under his breath.

“Ay—girly. You gonna let these toons decide for you?” One customer asks. Y/n looks over to the customer. But ignores him. Bendy slightly nudged Y/n to

The door. “She makes her own decision just fine, thank you.”

“Bendy—no, if Y/n wants to eat here, then she can. Come on, we’ll wait outside.” Oswald said, once again nudging Bendy away, Bendy swatted Oswald’s hands.

“Ay! Keep yer’ hands off me, I already had to listen to Mr. Sal over here.” Bendy threw an insult at Alex. Which took note of. Alex raised an eyebrow and looked at Bendy.

“You got a problem with me, pal?” Alex crosses his eyes before eyeing Bendy. Bendy tsked and strolled over to the counter.

“All the problems, ya’ old geezer!”

“Well shit..” Y/n muttered under her breath.

“Panchito! Do something.” Oswald whispered under his breath to the rooster. Panchito—didn’t seem to have a plan in mind. He’s never been in a situation like this before.

“Oh please? If I don’t want a couple of pencil strokes waltzing into my fine diner! Then I damn sure don’t one walking in, especially you demon look alike.”

“Hey!” Y/n shouts.

“Don’t talk to him like that!” She glared at the owner. Alex looked at Y/n and squinted his dark eyes. “You lookin’ for trouble too, kid?”

“You wanna get to her? You’ll have ta’ get through me. Pork. Chop.” Bendy points his gloved hand at Alex’s nose. The customers murmured in shock.

“Alright! Party’s over.” An accented voice shouts. Panchito, Oswald and Donald moved away from the entrance of the diner. A sheriff walked in. His boots and spurs clicking—for whatever reason he was wearing them..

The shades in his face was dark and he held a toothpick in the corner of his mouth. Donald panicked—Panchito—they almost forgot! He can’t be seen! Looking around quickly. Donald picked up an empty mop bucket and slammed in on Panchito’s head. Panchito wobbled almost dazed like at the sudden impact. The sheriff looked over. At Donald, who nervously smiled at him, leaning his elbow on the bucket that was on Panchito’s head as if he were casually leaning.

“You toons heard the man. No service. Now scram unless you all want a free ride to the office.” The officer told the group.

Y/n rubbed her clammy hands together and walked over to Bendy and grabbed him by his tie and dragged him away from the counter. Him and Alex staring each other down. They needed to leave immediately before that officer found out about Panchito and the book—which would be tough to do—but she felt that any officer would have eyes like a hawk that can find out just about anything.

Pushing the doors open, strolling back outside. Y/n ran her hands through her hair.

“That was..that was something new.” She said. Walking over to the car and opening the passenger door. Bendy fixed his tie. “When did that become a...thing.” He grunts. Hinting towards the new Policy. Or, law.

“Whatever it is, we need to be more careful and start reading, that’s for sure.” Donald said, taking the bucket off of Panchito’s head. Panchito blinked at the sunlight and lifted a hand to rub his head under his sombrero.

“You toons got kicked?” Asked a voice. Bendy didn’t even bat an eye as he had his eyes closed, trying to think of a new place to eat at.

“Not now, Oswald…” Bendy muttered. Oswald slowly closes the car door once he opens it.

“I didn’t even say anything..” Oswald said. Y/n looks at Oswald and then Bendy.

“You heard that too?” Y/n asks. And Oswald nods quickly. “Me too.” Donald adds.

“Oh my g—-down here you Idiots!” Donald quacks and his hands quickly flew to his tail feathers. Quickly standing next to Y/n with an angry expression. “Hey! What’s the big I-“ he stopped in his track when he saw a small toon—a bird—a blue bird. Y/n squints her eyes.

“You kinda look like the birdie in my neighborhood.” Y/n said. The bird nods. “That’s because I am sweet cheeks.” The bird—really packed a voice. His voice was much deeper than you would expect from a dainty little bird. Panchito gasped.

“Whoa? Have you followed us? What a cute litt—“

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Oswald told Panchito, his hands up to shield his face as if the bird would attack him instead of Panchito.

“Hey! What’re guys doin? Come on—we gotta hit the road.” Bendy walked around the car and

Looked at the four. Y/n motioned towards the blue bird. “Talking bird.” She told him. Bendy looked at her and turned to look at the bird. The five standing next to each other as they all looked down at the bird.

“I’ll make this quick and easy! Alright, my name is BB, short for blue bird—thank the narrator.”

No no, thank you, Blue Bird.

“Who?” Y/n raised an eyebrow as she looked around for whoever the blue bird could have mentioned.

“Oooh! I was going to name my turtle that!” Panchito smiled. Oswald squinted his eyes before looking at Panchito.

“Where did that turtle go anyway?” He asks. Panchito deflates.

“Bendy threw him to the pound. mi corazón está triste…” Panchito sighs.

BB looked at the group and shook his head slowly...they all were so...silly.

“Never mind that.” BB said. But it didn’t stop there, Y/n raised her hand.

“You kinda sound like Samuel L. Jackson.” She said. Donald shook his head and tapped his beak.

“I was thinking more like Morgan Freeman.” Donald adds. Y/n then nods and lets out a laugh. The two snickered together. The bird whistles to catch their attention.

“Attention, please”

“Right, sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Now, I’m your guide to help you. It may seem crazy. But I’ve been guiding you all this entire time—well. You all have been technically guiding yourselves, and I am so proud of this team of what it’s made. Especially the night when you three found each other.” BB looked at Y/n, Panchito, Bendy and Oswald.

“So...you’re the book?” Panchito asks. BB shook his head. “No, I’m not. The book is itself of course. I’m a piece of it. The navigator. Donald, that paper you received. I sent it to you. I’m soul bound to the book—-promised from the kings eons ago for when the day comes, this book will fall in the right hands with the right people. That being you five��and more to come. I’m no guardian, no knight, god, or anything—too much. I’m your helper. Your guide. Look at me as your personal GPS.” BB finishes. Y/n nods slowly—it made sense on how the sudden times the book would know where to locate everyone.

“So, you’ve been marking down the locations on the map?” Y/n asks BB. And he nods. “Correct.”

“I suppose you’re also responsible for when the book randomly flies off?” Bendy asks, yet he holds sarcasm in his tone. A lot of it.

“No, the book has a mind of its own, use ya’ brain. Or do demon toons have any?”

“Hey!”

“So, we’re heading to Idaho now. That’s where it’s marked off for our next location. Do you have any information on who we were supposed to run into?” Donald tilts his head as he asks the question.

BB tapped his talon on the pavement. “I’m only here to help guide. That’s information you all will collect.”

“Would you happen to have any info on what’s going on?” Y/n asks. And BB shook his head.

“Guys. I’m a navigator. I was only created for this purpose only. Anything outside of helping the people that wields that book to getting where they need

To be, that’s outside my realm.” He said. And he seemed genuinely sure about it. But Y/n wasn’t complaining. They had a navigator. And that’s all that matters.

Oswald scoffed. “Wait, how do we know you’re telling the truth?” He asks. BB motioned towards Y/n, more her book bag.

“I’m in the book. You can read about me! Now!” BB flapped his wings? Lifting off the air and his talon snapped and that same golden trail, shot down the road.

“Idaho, off you go.” The bird took off to the sky. Oswald blinked slowly and the five of them looked at the sky and saw the bird flapping away. Y/n looked back at the street...yeah. That was more than enough information.

Two figures were tossed into a cage. The metal clanking together as the gate was slammed closed and locked.

“Just wait till boss see these bad boys..” a voice chuckled. A toon stood in front of the gate. Staring at the two captured toons. Their kidnapper had characteristics of an animal as the 2nd one also as well.

The toon inside the cage shot up and and started banging on the bars—he took the bars in both hands and shook them.

“Let me outta here! I oughtta give you a piece of my mind!” Shouts the toon as his kidnappers sauntered off somewhere on the side of the room.

“Hey, Doug. You think boss’ll give us a raise cuz Zip and Zot lost the rabbit?” Asked one of the kidnapper toons to his co-worker—Doug. Doug was busy dialing on a phone, a cigar placed on the side of Doug’s mouth.

“He damn sho’ betta’, i ain’t hunt these good for nothing’s down for no bread—and Jack—shut that toon up—I CAN’T EVEN HEAR MYSELF THINK!”

“Cuphead! Give it a rest!”

Ah yes, Cuphead and Mugman. The brothers that were always sewn to the hip. Always together, found themselves in a pickle…

Cuphead quickly turned around. His hands shot to his head. “Give it a rest?! We’ve been ‘napped Mugs—for some prissy uppity smoker—and his idiot side kick!” Cuphead shouts in anger. Mugman gave him a blank expression before blinking.

“You’re embarrassing me.”

Cuphead and Mugman stared at each other for a moment. Cuphead blinks. “What?! Mugs—I don’t have time for t—OW!” Doug grabbed a lot of Cuphead’s straw. Cuphead gagged as if he were choking and couldn’t breathe. Doug lifts the phone to his ear.

“Ay boss? How far are ya’ from downtown? We got your toons that witch told me about—a brand new one—-yeah—mmmhmm.” The kidnapper spoke on the phone and soon let go of Cuphead’s straw and walked Off to continue the conversation alone. Snapping his fingers at Jack—the second kidnapper. To watch

Cuphead and Mugman.

Cuphea gasped for air. Placing a hand in his chest. Mugman looked over at Jack. The...kidnapper wasn’t too on the bright side as he was..digging in his nose, not even paying attention to the two.

“Hello, sir?” Mugman calls out. Jack turns around and looks at Mugman—Cuphead gleaming at the toon.

“Hi, can you atleast tell us. Why are we here in this..” Mugman looked around the dim area, the spacious building resembled a warehouse.

“Warehouse? I presume?”

“Yuh.” Jack said. Mugman nods slowly.

“Why are we here?”

“Oh! Cuz boss needs y’all’s! He’s tryna plan sumn’ big! And the witch lady can feel people that a—-“

“Hey, ya big lug, shut up.” Cuphead told Jack...which he did…

Mugman glared at Cuphead.

“Why did you do that? He was gonna tell us something valuable and you went running your big mouth again, you nut!”

“Look at him—what makes you think he knows anything? I bet if you tell him to play under a beehive, he’ll do it! Look at him!” Cuphead and Mugman looked over at Jack, who was looking off into the spacious area. A small smile on his snout.

“Hey, Jake?” Cuphead calls out. Jack looks at Cuphead and smiles. “It’s Jack.”

“Yeah, John. Anyway, when is your boss getting here?” He asks. But instead of Jack answering. Doug did. He stepped back into the room, arms behind his back with a menacing grin.

“He’ll be here soon. Very soon.”

There was silence...and then Cuphead spoke up.

“Okay good, because I guess I gotta speak to the higher ups to get it through you, and this idiots thick skull to let us go!!”

“Cuphead!”

A/n: this uh—took a longer time than I expected. Sorry. AND—sOrry the chapter is so long—I really hate short chapters, plus I have so much that I want to be seen in one chapter, But. I promise I’ll make it short in the future. I felt this character was as good as the first.

I’m sorry y’all don’t hurt me.

But! Hey, we got no characters! 😭

I do wanna say, I love the Butcher Gang. Especially Edgar. Such a delicate character.

But, I want to say thank you to all of you out there that commented and gave me support! Thank you!!! I did not expect this to go in anyone’s liking, and I am really surprised! So thank you!

❤️❤️❤️❤️

See you all in the next character. 😊

#ducktales 2017 #ducktales #bendy the dancing devil #bendyxreader #bendy and the dark revival #bendy and the ink machine #animanics 2020 #panchito pistoles #Jose Carioca #donald duck #oswald the lucky rabbit #yakko wakko and dot #Cuphead #mugman

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taehyungs-perm · 4 years ago

Text

midnight love - ch.2

midnight love collab w @jimins-filter

jimin x reader; superhero au; childhood best friends to lovers au; ceo, billionaire philanthropist, playboy!jimin

genre: angst; lowkey funny; eventual smut

summary: playboy park jimin comes back to seoul city after disappearing for six years; too much has changed, especially you. living out your nights as nyx, seoul city’s dark knight, is a secret you’ve kept for as long as jimin’s disappeared. but what happens when a new hero named eros comes into town just as park jimin shows up at your front door...

teaser

chapter 1

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 2 Sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight, Jimin counted in his mind, pulling himself up to the bar. His muscles tightened with every pull and he let out a groan as he finally finished his last rep. He wiped the sweat off his brow, panting as he dropped from the pull up bar. Grabbing the towel hanging from the hook, he wiped the dripping sweat off of his body as he made his way to the bench to retrieve his water bottle. Distantly he heard the doors of the gym open with an unmistakable creak, but he paid no mind as he chugged the water, appreciating the cool liquid against his throat.

“Long time no see,” he heard a familiar deep voice echo through the room.

Jimin quickly whirred around to see who entered the gym. It was Kim Taehyung, his childhood best friend and most trusted advisor (and on most occasions, his drinking buddy). Jimin immediately broke into a smile, his eyes squinting, at the familiar sight of Tae’s curls and his expensive fashion taste. He ran to his friend, ready to engulf him in a koala hug.

“Taehyung!” Jimin embraced his friend, feeling the most happy he’s been in the while.

“Jimin, this is Gucci! Take a shower first,” Tae said, attempting to push Jimin away, laughing all at the same time. He ruffled Jimin’s soft black hair affectionately. “I see you’ve grown a little.”

“Shut up. I could still beat up your ass.” Jimin jokes, batting Tae’s hand away.

“No doubt,” Tae said, inspecting Jimin’s abs with a raised eyebrow. “Wherever you’ve disappeared to in the last six years has prepared you for an apocalypse.”

“On a serious note, thank you Taehyung. For taking care of Park Enterprises while I was away.”

“Of course man. Park Enterprises is everything to me, to you, to your family. I would do everything in my power to keep it going.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

“But I suspect you didn’t call me here just to say thanks.” Taehyung said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his brown trousers.

“Well I was hoping to see you at my party a few days before, but…” Jimin trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Not all of us can be playboys, Park. Some of us got jobs. Some of us have to do your job.” Taehyung smirked.

“I’m turning over a new leaf, Taehyung.”

“Good one,” Taehyung laughed.

“I’m being serious. I need your help.” Jimin said solemnly.

“What sort of help?”

“You still design suits?”

“Of course. The other day I designed a 3 piece velvet suit complete with a waistcoat—”

Jimin chuckled nervously, “I’m not talking about that kind of suit.”

Taehyung wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion, “Jimin, what exactly are you planning?”

“Seoul needs my help.”

“Your help? As Park Jimin, CEO of Park Enterprises?”

“No, Seoul needs my help as someone else.”

Taehyung sat down on the workout bench slowly, trying to piece together the full meaning of what Jimin wanted, “You’re not a vigilante.”

“I could be. And I don’t want to think of myself as some lawless criminal.”

“But that’s exactly what you would be Jimin! You’re not seriously thinking about putting on some jumpsuit and beating up random people!”

“I’m not going to be beating up random people. I’m taking care of the people of Seoul. That’s what Nyx is doing and the city loves her!”

“One vigilante is enough. Seoul doesn’t need someone else running against the law.”

Jimn paused, “I just...think this city needs some help.”

“What? You don’t think Nyx is doing enough?”

“I think Nyx is one person against an entire corrupt city. She needs help.”

“What if she doesn’t want it?”

“It doesn't matter what she wants. It’s about what the city needs.”

“From whom does she need help from exactly?”

“Eros.”

“Eros? As in the god of love?” Taehyung questioned, cracking a smile.

“Shut up man. The dude’s a beast with his arrows and shit.”

“I assume this is what you’re training for? What you have been training for?”

Jimin crossed his arms and nodded, “It wasn’t my intention at first I guess. But once I left Seoul I realized what a mess it was, how it was infested to the brim with criminals and dangers. I want to save Seoul. I want to be a hero but I don’t want anyone I love to get hurt so I have to keep my identity a secret.”

Taehyung went silent for a few minutes before breaking the silence, “Told ______ about your little plan?”

“Fuck no. She would lose her mind. I just got on her good side, I’m not about to mess it all up.”

“How did you manage to get on her good side already? Last time I talked to her she was pissed as hell at you.”

Jimin smirked, “Guess it was that classic Park charm.”

“You do know she has a boyfriend?” Taehyung looked at Jimin with apprehension.

“I know.” was all Jimin said. He didn’t want to add the tiny, embarrassing detail that she told him when he was about to kiss her.

“That’s rough buddy.”

“Have you met the guy?” Jimin asked with a jealous tone.

Taehyung nodded, “He’s really cool. And he’s really good for ______.”

“Is that your not-so-subtle way of telling me to fuck off?”

“I’m just saying man, you’ve been gone a long time. People change. ______’s changed. You had your chance back in college, but you were too busy caring about your fuckboy reputation. Just be her friend, it’s what she really needs and it's what you really need.”

“I hate when you're right.”

Taehyung stood up and patted Jimin’s arm comfortingly, “So, tell me a little about what kind of suit you’re looking for.”

Jimin smiled then led Taehyung over to his workshop desk with various blueprints, “I need something functional yet fast. I need to be protected but be able to move quickly. Something made out of carbon fiber?”

Taehyung scanned the blueprints, different designs of suits that were in shades of black and red. Taehyung rubbed his chin in thought, “When do you need this by?”

“This weekend?” Jimin asked hopefully.

“I can make that work, but you gotta do something for me in return.”

“What is it? I'll do anything.”

“You gotta show up at your fucking job.” Taehyung said smiling as he rolled up the blueprint, tucking them at his side.

“Taehyung, thank you. I mean it.” Jimin said, earnestly.

Taehyung winked at him as he opened the gym doors and left.

True to his word, Jimin showed up to work bright and early. As he walked into Park Enterprises, he swore he saw a few of the employees fall out of their chair at the sight of him alive and well. That, and the fact that he showed up to work for once. He opened the door to his office and saw that it remained relatively untouched. One wall was taken up with floor-to-ceiling windows while another was decorated with an array of sleek black cabinets.Jimin made his way to the big, glass desk in the middle of the room and logged onto his computer (he couldn't believe his account hadn’t been deleted after all these years). It had been far too long. He didn’t even know where to start but he decided maybe going through his overflowing inbox was a beginning. After staring at his computer screen for what felt like hours, Jimin’s attention was caught by the sound of his office door opening. He was completely shocked at the figure in his doorway.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin quickly bowed, remembering his formalities and the respect he had for his mentor. He was after all the one who had taken Jimin under his wing and trained him, taught him what real fear was. Jimin was taken aback at Yoongi’s appearance; he had only seen Yoongi wearing the traditional hanbok yet here he was in a full beige three piece suit, handkerchief and all.

Yoongi walked over cooly with his hands in his pocket, a clear demeanor of confidence, “Nice office you got here Jimin. I see why you left.”

A spark of nervousness flew through Jimin’s body, “I wasn’t aware you were stopping by or that you were even in the city,” he replied levelly.

Yoongi slowly sat in Jimin’s chair, crossing his legs, “I just came to see the city you’ve talked so much about. I wanted to see how you are doing. Adjusting well, I presume?” His voice had a tone of sarcasm layered underneath it, but that was typical of Yoongi.

Jimin decided to play along with his game, his steely gaze locked on to Yoongi, “Yes, I’ve missed my city and my home. It’s good to be back.”

“I hope you haven’t returned to old habits.” Yoongi looked at Jimin with a glint in his eyes, a sly smile playing on his lips.

Under normal circumstances, Jimin would’ve buckled under Yoongi’s intense stare. But he’d spent the better part of the last six years under Yoongi’s guidance, and he was well trained from not shying away from his old mentor.“Of course not Yoongi-ssi.” Jimin replied coolly.

“Lying is not tolerable in our mantra, if you recall.” Yoongi said sternly.

Jimin’s face flared in embarrassment, “I’m sorry, Yoongi-ssi. I wouldn’t count it as old habits to be honest. One night of fun is hardly an indicator of me going back to the old days.”

“I guess. So, with the knowledge and training you’ve been given, what exactly is your plan?”

Jimin’s entire body went stiff. As much as he respected his mentor, there was something off about his behavior: the way that he just suddenly appeared in Seoul, in Jimin’s office. Yoongi had always been a bit standoffish but never cold towards his mentees; something strange was going on. Jimin needed to figure out why Yoongi was really in Seoul

.Ignoring Yoongi’s question, Jimin cleared his throat, “Yoongi-ssi, what are you really doing here in Seoul?”

Yoongi smirked at his pupil’s clear avoidance of his own question, “Nothing really, some sightseeing, some investing. There is some great property here in Seoul.”

Jimin egged him on further, “Are you thinking about purchasing an apartment or..”

“Perhaps. Maybe some buildings as well. I’ll have to do some more research.”

Jimin narrowed his eyebrows, confused. Yoongi had never expressed any interest in buying property in Seoul before, not once in the six years Jimin knew him.

“Why?” Jimin asked lightly, trying not to tip Yoongi off of his suspicions.

Yoongi picked up a pen laying on Jimin’s desk. He twirled it around in his fingers and spoke nonchalantly, “Just diversifying my income.”

Suddenly Yoongi’s phone started to ring. Yoongi pulled his phone out of his inside coat pocket and stood up, “I have to take this. But it was nice seeing you Jimin. I hope we can sit down and have a proper chat later.”

Jimin bowed again at his mentor as Yoongi left his office. The moment the door closed, Jimin sat down and exhaled a deep breath. What was Yoongi-ssi doing here? Why is he investing property in Seoul?

--------------------------------------------------------------

When Jimin returned to his empty apartment that night, the last thing he wanted to do was be alone. For a moment, he thought about calling ______. But after his last encounter with you, he thought it best to give you space. Instead, he dialed Namjoon to tell him to come over (and to bring food as well).

When the elevator doors clicked open, Jimin saw Namjoon stride over to him, holding a bag full of Korean takeout. Namjoon was wearing his regular attire: an oversized jacket with a cap nestled on his soft brown hair. He smiled as he saw Jimin, a deep dimple forming on both cheeks.

“How was the first day of work?” Namjoon said, plopping down on the couch across from Jimin.

“Sucked ass. I have literally no idea what I’m doing. How the fuck have you and Taehyung been doing this for six years?” Jimin said, laying his head back on the couch.

“I ask myself that question everyday,” Namjoon laughed as he began taking out plastic containers of food.

Namjoon handed a pair of chopsticks to Jimin and pushed a container towards him, “Eat. You’ve had a long day.”

Jimin smiled at his friend and began to eat the bowl of japchae in front of him, “Have you talked to Taehyung?”

Namjoon nodded, “I think he’s honestly trying to wrap his head around it still but he’s working on your suit and it’s coming along pretty well.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Just the rough model of it but it looks great so far.”

“I can’t believe that he agreed to it.” Jimin said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you convinced me.” Namjoon added, taking a bite of rice.

“Honestly I thought you were going to be way harder to get on my side.”

“I mean as much as I hate the idea of you going out and doing vigilante shit, you’re right. This city needs all the help it can get and Nyx can’t do it alone.”

“Speaking of Nyx, who is she?”

“No one knows.”

“You’re telling me no one knows anything about her? She’s been active almost six years and no one has found out anything about her?”

“She keeps a low profile. The only thing I could tell you, which really isn’t a secret, is that she works with SCPD.”

Jimin leaned forward, interested, “Who does she work with specifically? She can’t be coordinating with the entire police force.”

“I believe she works with Detective Jin. But I’m not 100% sure. I can do some research on it and let you know.”

“Thanks man. Another weird thing happened today, Yoongi-ssi came by my office.”

“Your mentor from that weird ninja group?” Namjoon’s voice had a tone of clear sarcasm.

Jimin corrected him, “The League of Shadows, but yes.”

“Why?”

“That’s my question too. He said some bullshit about buying property or something, but I don’t believe him. Hey, could you do me a favor and look into which properties he’s bought or is going to purchase?”

Namjoon nodded, “You think he’s up to something?”

“I’m not sure yet but something weird is definitely going on.”

“I'll look into it and the Nyx stuff. You got the computers set up in the basement, right?”

Jimin nodded, “I’ll text you the passcode but it's on B4 in Park Enterprises.”

“I don’t trust him,” Namjoon said, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin asked, confused.

Namjoon nodded, “That entire League of Shadows business is just so….suspicious.”

“I mean, it is called the League of Shadows for a reason. We work in the shadows.” Jimin chuckled.

“I don’t ask you too many questions about your time away Jimin, but you’ve changed. A lot”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I haven’t decided yet. But I just know the old Jimin wouldn’t have turned his back on his friends for six years.”

“I told you Namjoon, I couldn’t call anyone.”

“But why? You’ve never told me why. ‘Couldn’t’ implies it was out of your control. So doesn’t it make you question why you couldn’t call anyone?”

“It’s for protection.”

“Who’s? Yours? Mine? The League’s?” Namjoon said, a bit annoyed.

Jimin went silent. He hadn’t really questioned who’s protection his silence was for. Yoongi-ssi made it clear from the moment Jimin stepped into the dojo that there were two rules: obey the mantra and swear to secrecy. But why? Did the League have something to hide? Did Yoongi have something to hide?

Namjoon flipped on the news as Jimin simmered in his thoughts. The headlines blared ‘JUST IN: BANK ROBBERY AT SEOUL UNITED’. Jimin and Namjoon exchanged weary glances, worry sinking into their stomachs.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

You pushed through the revolving doors of her parents’ building. You hated going here, you could almost taste the despair in the air. Too many memories of missing out on hangouts with friends, missing recitals and performances all because your parents were too busy to take you. Good thing you weren’t here to see them. You saw them exclusively on Sundays; you couldn’t handle anymore than that. You tried to get past the front desk but of course you heard the familiar shriek, “Ms. ______, welcome!”

You gripped your leather messenger bag tightly, trying to control your anger, “Hello”

“Are you here to see your parents? I’m afraid they are both in meetings curr-”

You cut off the secretary, “I’m not here to see them. Just here to meet a friend.”

“Oh, alright. Have a nice day then.”

“Thank you. Also, please don’t tell my parents that I was here. I wouldn’t want to bother them with this.”

The secretary nodded and you quickly walked to the elevators, hitting the down arrow a couple of times impatiently. The elevator doors opened with a ding and you hopped in, pressing the B8 button. After a few seconds and a feeling of weightlessness, the doors re-opened and you stepped out, heading down the same path you had been going down for the past six years.

You walked up to the familiar cubicle and saw a figure with unmistakable tousled black hair focused on the computer screen in front of him, his tattooed hands flying across the keyboard . When you peered a little closer to see what he was working on, it became evident he was fully immersed in a PVP video game. You sneaked up behind him, getting as close as you could without alerting him.

“Hey Jungkook,” you whispered, giving him a little push.

Jungkook immediately jolted in his seat, clutching his shirt where his heart would be. “Never do that again, you scared me!”

He swiveled around to face you, while you were silently laughing at his reaction. He clearly didn’t expect your presence.

“You’re here! I didn’t know you were coming,” Jungkook pushed up his glasses that had been knocked awry by his jump and adjusted his tie nervously. You couldn't help but smile at his shy behavior.

“What’d you expect?” you chuckled, you would be lying if you said you didn’t have a soft spot for Jungkook. “I texted you this morning that I would swing by lunch to see if the tr-”

Jungkook nodded excitedly, “Yes, yes of course. I have it ready.” He pulled open his desk drawer and handed you a handheld remote.

He pointed to the disc, “This is the tracker. First thing, just pick up one stack of bills, scan it using this remote and a digital marker will be recorded. Once you are trying to actually track the bills, just click the button on the remote. It will connect to the maps on your phone via bluetooth and allow you to track where the money is physically going.”

You turned over the small remote in your hand, analyzing the careful craftsmanship, “This is amazing Jungkook. You’re a genius.”

A light blush bloomed over Jungkook’s cheeks, “Oh, really it’s nothing. I just was messing around with some stuff and it ended up coming together well.”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, ruffling his already messy hair.

Jungkook nodded, “Just be careful out there.”

You winked at him, “Nyx always is.”

With that, you raced to your car, driving to your apartment as fast as possible. You needed to get the tracker on the bills before anything else happened. After a quick change into your Nyx outfit and grabbing your motorbike, you were on your way to Seoul United.You found Detective Jin’s team surrounding the bank. After speaking with the officer in charge, you were able to get access to the vault and place the necessary tracker. You zoomed back to your apartment, trying to get out of there as quick as possible. Nyx worked in the nighttime; daytime excursions were a risk to your identity. In the evening, you tried to focus on the case files pulled up on your laptop, but an unmistakable feeling of anxiety was creeping up your neck, like something horrible was just about to happen. Then, as if right on cue, your phone pinged with a text from Detective Kim.

DK: Seoul United has just been robbed.

You: What? When?

DK: 5 mins ago

You: I’ll be right over

You threw on your Nyx outfit and raced on your bike over to Seoul United Bank. Already there were police cars and news vans surrounding the area. It was hard to see anything past the blue and red sirens and the constant flashes of the journalists’ cameras. You managed to make your way into the bank, finding Detective Kim standing in the entryway. He was talking with someone on his team, his hands on his hips, clearly exasperated. You cleared your throat and Detective Kim turned around.

“Nyx,” he said, seeing your arrival. You simply gave him a two-fingered salute, before following him into the empty bank vault. It was a big, metallic thing with a complicated lock pad on the front. Although the inside of the vault was void of the thousands stacks of cash, there were stray dollar bills littering the floor.

You looked up at Detective Kim, annoyed, “I thought you had your team here.”

He signed, rubbing his forehead, “I did. They were here all night.”

“Then, how did this happen?” you asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know.” He paused then spoke slowly, “I wasn’t here. It was just my team.”

You pursed your lips, thinking about the situation. You stood up, scanning the empty vault, before looking directly at Detective Kim’s eye “Whoever robbed this bank was tipped off. You have a mole in your team.”

“Excuse me?” Detective Kim’s jaw dropped.

“This wasn’t a coincidence Detective. Whoever robbed this bank knew about our plan. There is no way this should have happened if your team was actually prepared. Either your team is incompetent or there’s a mole.”

“There has to be another explanation.”

“I suggest you thoroughly re-evaluate your team.” you looked at him levelly.

Jin hesitated for a moment, “Fine.”

“There’s only two major banks left in Seoul.” you said, walking around the vault to see if there were any clues left behind.

“Seoul Credit Union and Republic of Korea Trust Corporation.” Jin said, flipping through his notepad.

You said nothing in response, but kept walking back to the end of the vault where a glint of red caught your eye. You moved closer and found a card stuck between one of the tables and the wall. You pulled it and recognized it immediately; it was the card you found in the folder Detective Kim gave you a few nights ago. The blood-red smile stared back at you in mockery.

You turned to show Detective Kim the card, “Same card,”

Detective Kim nodded in agreement, taking the card from your gloved hand and studying it. “It appears so. I guess this means the robberies are done by the same team.”

“Any leads with the ink?” you asked, remembering the conversation you had with Detective Kim that one night regarding the ink of the smiley face on the card.

“Nothing of interest came up,” Detective Kim said, shrugging, not exactly meeting your eye.“

What’s your plan?”

“Same thing I guess. But with a smaller team.”

You nodded, picking up one of the stray dollar bills scattered on the floor.

Jin looked at you, “What’s your plan?”

“Unlike you, I was prepared.” Pulling out the tracker Jungkook made for you out of your pocket, you scanned the dollar bill with the tracker. After a few seconds, your phone began to beep. Immediately, a maps app pulled up with the word “TRACKING” flashing. After a moment, the location popped up: 14-5, Donam 1-dong, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul.

“I put a tracker on the bills earlier today.” you showed your phone to Jin, “This is where the money is currently.”

“Nyx…”

“I’m not going to do anything. Just a reconnaissance mission. Observe and I’ll tell you what I find.”

Jin sighed a breath of relief, “I’ll keep you posted on my side as well.”

You nodded, and quickly left the bank, heading to the location on your phone.

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Jimin walked into the basement of Park Enterprises, his steps echoing through the concrete room. He felt a sense of nostalgia walking through these halls. Back when Namjoon, Y/N, and Jimin were younger they would run around here, playing hide-and-seek and tag, while his father would work diligently upstairs. Now, Jimin walked down these halls with a different purpose, while his father laid six feet under, never to breathe again.

Jimin slowed his pace when he came near a metallic door and entered the passcode in the keypad to the side. The door opened with a defined clang and he saw Namjoon clicking away on a keyboard in front of several computer screens. The screens were filled with an array of statistics, new articles, and property reports.

“What’s up?” Jimin asked, leaning on the headrest of Namjoon’s chair.

“So I was doing some research into what we spoke about the other day,” Namjoon started, clicking away from an article.

“Did you find anything about Nyx?” Jimin asked excitedly.

Namjoon slowly turned his head, looking at Jimin above his shoulder, “Um, no. I was thinking the Yoongi stuff was more important.”

“Right,” Jimin said, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Anyways, I got ahold of some of the listings Yoongi is looking into, but he’s actually only bought one apartment building so far.”

“Where?”

“It’s actually not too far from here.”

“I can go check it out tonight. See if there’s anything weird about the building, or inside of it.”

“Did Taehyung finish your suit?” Jimin nodded, walking to the end of the room where a black panel lay embedded in the wall. Jimin pressed his hand against the scanner to unlock the panel. It moved to the side, revealing a sleek, black suit with red accents made of carbon fiber. Next to the suit, was a titanium black bow and arrow encased in a clear case.

Jimin stripped of his clothes and stepped into the suit. It fit seamlessly, providing him with protection as well as the ability to move around stealthily. He pushed the eye mask against his face and threw his hood over, casting a dark shadow over his face.

“Address?” Jimin called out as he put on the quiver and adjusted the strap so that it lay comfortably on his body.

“14-5, Donam 1-dong, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul,” Namjoon said reading off the computer screen.

Jimin nodded, punching the address into his phone. He bid Namjoon a goodbye before exiting the building and heading to the garage. He summoned his car to him by pressing a button on his keys. The car came to him in a flash, a sleek black car with the state-of-the-art weapons attached to it and a computer interface at his disposal. Not to mention, the seat heaters feel amazing. Jimin hopped in the car, determined to solve this mystery and figure out what Yoongi was up to.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After 15 minutes of driving, you finally arrived at your location. It was a tall, red brick building that was supposedly an apartment complex, according to Google. You stashed your bike a block away from the building, hiding it in an alleyway. There was a fire escape leading to the roof of the apartment building, perfect for preliminary surveillance. You made your way to the roof of the building and perched on a ledge, scanning the terrain. You could hear drunken shouts and laughter from below, but you didn’t see anyone entering or exiting the building.

On the roof itself, there were a few camp chairs with old glass bottles and plastic cups littering the floor. There was also a door which you presumed led inside of the building as well as a water tower a few feet from you. You were a bit frustrated by the lack of places to hide on the roof, but you’ve dealt with worse.

You studied the layout of the building. It would be useless to walk through each floor in hopes of accidentally stumbling upon a room full of bank vault cash. You racked your brain for a better solution before deciding you should call your team to help you locate the most probable floor that the cash could be on.

“Hey,” you said, pressing the button on your earpiece to talk.

Jungkook excitedly answered, “______! I mean, Nyx!”

“What’s up?” Sana asked, much more calmly.

“I’m at the address. Pretty sure it’s an apartment building, judging by the layout, but I have no idea where the money could be. Maybe there’s some sort of hidden room or basement where all this money could be stored. Can you guys pull up the specs of the building?”

“You got it,” Sana said, clicking away on her keyboard.

You waited patiently for a moment before you heard something, a light clank sound. You immediately ducked behind the water tower, highly alert. You could feel your heart beating very fast. Could it be the person behind the blood-red smiley face card?

“Someone’s here,” you whispered softly into your earpiece.

“Who?” Jungkook and Sana asked.

“Not sure.”

“Be careful,” Sana cautioned.

You turned off your earpiece so you could hear what the intruder was doing. You heard soft footsteps crunching on the gravel. You tried to peer around the water tower to see but it was pitch black, too difficult to make out clear movement. You saw a figure moving, you squinted trying to see better. You almost felt scared for a second. You shook yourself out of it. C'mon you’re Nyx. You’ve faced off the mob for crying out loud. Whoever it is, whatever it is, you can handle it

You gripped your pronged knife, unsheathing it, getting in battle stance. You peered once more to see any movement, trying to get the upper hand on whoever this mysterious person was. Part of you thought it might be a random civilian, just wandering off but your instincts told you otherwise. Based on the movements of this mystery person, the soft footsteps and indiscernible breathing, this was clearly someone who knew what they were doing. You looked over, trying to see any motion in the darkness but when you squinted, you couldn't see anything. You sighed turning your head back around to find an arrow pointed right at your forehead.

Your eyes immediately went to the beholder of the arrow. A man, you guessed, his face was covered by a large hood but you could make out that he was wearing an eye mask. Another vigilante? Another villain? Was he the one behind the bank robberies?

He was good, good enough to sneak up on you. You forced yourself to calm down, and you gripped your knives tighter trying to formulate a plan. Fighting him straight up wasn’t the smartest move, not yet. You needed some answers first. Keep him busy while he’s talking then attack. Distraction was always the best mode of offense.

“Who are you?” you asked, not taking your eyes off of the man and the arrow pointed at you.

“So curious,” he murmured, titling his head to the side. His grip on the bow never wavered.

If anything his answer made you more furious rather than the fact that he was holding a literal arrow to your face. Stay calm Nyx.

“New in town?” you said, mind racing.

“Not really.” His voice was soft and melodic, almost like he was teasing you. “I’ve never seen you before.” you strengthened your stance, preparing to attack.

“Maybe you have. Maybe you’re just not observant enough.” He said with a chuckle. Then for a moment, his bow wavered. Bingo. You immediately launched a kick at his arm, momentarily surprising him, causing him to drop both his bow and arrow. You twisted his arm so that it was no longer directed towards you, switching places and forcing him against the water tower as you pushed one of your knives against his throat. The man’s adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped at the prospect of getting his throat slashed at any moment.

It was now your turn to torment him.

“Relax cupid I won’t hurt you. Yet.” Your eyes narrowed. “Now tell me, who are you?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” He smirked. With his free hand, the man turned away your knife holding hand and swiftly kicked your feet out from under you. But you’ve had years of experience and saw this coming. At the last minute, you rolled over so that he was now trapped under you. You had your knees planted on either side of his narrow waist with one arm pinning down his hands. Your knife had clattered away during this, so you decided to press your forearm against his throat.

The man chuckled, sending shivers up your spine, “Usually the girl knows my name before she’s on top of me,”

You pressed your forearm down even harder, “You’re quite obnoxious, you know that?”

“I think you mean charming,” he choked out, struggling to breathe.

“Let me clear something up for you. I have Detective Kim Seokjin on speed dial. It would be so easy for me to simply tie you up and hand you to the Seoul City Police. But perhaps, if you cooperated and gave me some information, we could work something out.” You had no intentions of making a deal with this possible criminal but this was a tactic that always worked in the past.

“Eros,” he gasped out. “My name’s Eros.”

Intrigued at this outburst, you lessened the pressure against his throat. Funny. A name of a greek god. Like yours.

“Eros,” you repeated. “The Greek god of love. What an odd name for a villain.”

“Vigilante,” he corrected. You could see his eyes more clearly now, a dangerous obsidian color.

“Vigilante, is that right?” you mused, “Sounds like some bullshit a lowlife criminal would say.”

“I’m being serious. But of course that would mean you would have to trust me.” His voice became low and sultry. There was something familiar about him, about his voice, his mannerisms but you couldn't place it.

“Fine. Be honest. Why are you here?”

“I’m following a lead.”

“From who? About what?”

“C’mon darling. Do you really think I would give up all my information to someone I don’t even know?”

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.” you said repeating his own words back to him.

“Maybe we can start by you getting off of me. Don’t get me wrong darling, I would love for this to continue, just under different circumstances maybe.” He whispered, sending shivers up your spine.

Immediately your face flushed. You quickly got up and offered a hand to Eros. He stood up and grabbed his bow and arrow that had clattered away during your fight, walking to the ledge.

“I’m here because I have suspicions about someone I don’t trust. He owns this building, recently purchased and I want to know why. But I’m guessing since you're here too, you have a lead you're following.” He turns to face you, “which makes me think , maybe we are on the same side.”

“Maybe, but I still have no idea who you are. I can’t blindly trust you.”

“Nyx, if I wanted to take you down, I would have already. Now why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here.”

He had a point, you thought. He was strong, you had felt his rock hard abs and strong muscles when you were on top of him (you were only noting it just in case you had to take him head on, no other reason of course). Eros could definitely put up a good fight; he could possibly take you down. Right now, your instincts were to trust him, see what information he had, and possibly work together.

You sighed, “I’m here because of a lead Detective Kim gave me.”

You saw his lips turn into a smirk, “Close with Detective Kim?”

You continued on, rolling your eyes at his unprofessional banter,“Anyways, I’m following a lead from the robberies.”

“The bank robberies?”

You nodded, “There was a connection between all of the recent bank robberies. I found this card at two of the robberies”

You handed him the card that had the smiley face drawn on it with the blood-like ink. The very one that had plagued your dreams and brought upon many sleepless nights. Whoever was behind the bank robberies were obviously very confident that they would get away with it, especially since they left behind a mark of theirs. Now you just had to find out who.

You studied Eros’s expression carefully when you handed him the card and you saw his eyes widen at the sight of the card, a flash of recognition. “I’ve seen this symbol before, I just can’t remember where,”

You eyed him uneasily. Was he just lying to you or was he being serious? Regardless, Eros knew something about the bank robberies, which was suspicious on some level.

Eros caught your gaze and spoke in an easy tone, “I promise I’ll look into this and remember where I saw this.”You nodded, feeling a wave of security and gratefulness rush over you. The nagging voice in the back of your head was getting harder to ignore though: Why were you already so trusting of this man you have never met before?

Eros chuckled softly, “Guess I’m gonna need your phone number.”

You paused for a moment, once again ignoring his overly flirty comments before remembering. You pulled out a burner phone lodged in one of your pant pockets. You had used it in a prior mission and forgot to give it back to Jungkook. You tossed the phone to Eros who caught it with ease.

“You call me. No need to exchange numbers.”

“You’re killing me, darling.” Eros said, safely storing the phone away.

You ignored him and continued with what you knew about the bank robberies, “I placed a tracker on the bills and I tracked it to this apartment.”

“The money is here?”

“Who owns this building?”

“My mentor...” Eros said hesitantly.

“Your mentor?”

“Yeah. But why would the money come here? Unless he knows about it?”

“Do you think he could be behind the robberies?”

Eros shook his head, “I highly doubt it. He was always preaching about not getting attached to the material world.”

“Here’s the plan, granted you don’t try to surprise attack me in the middle of it. I’ll pull up the specs of the building and we can see what’s here and what’s not.”

Eros nodded, “We should split up, cover more ground.”

“No way. I don’t trust you. What if you find the money and take it all?”

“I mean I wouldn’t, but if you really just wanted to spend some more time with me, then all you had to do was ask, darling.” Eros said, smirking at you.

“Just keep your eyes peeled,” You said, shaking your head and scoffing.

You pulled up your phone and found a message from Jungkook, an attachment for the blueprints of the building. You clicked on the attachment and glanced through the drawings.

“Okay, so it looks like there are apartments on every floor except the basement and the 8th floor.” You announced. “Although I’m not sure why the 8th floor doesn’t have any apartments.”

“Let’s head there first then.” Eros said hurriedly.

You swiftly picked the lock on the door on the roof and headed down the dimly lit metal staircase. The chipping paint on the wall stated “18th Floor.” It was going to be a bit of a walk; the elevators were too much of a risk for civilians to encounter you. Eros tried to make conversation asking about your past endeavors but you were in no mood to be friendly with someone you didn’t know. Once you reached the 8th floor and opened the door, you found yourself in a completely empty room. You unsheathed your knife while Eros steadied his bow as you both scanned the room, looking for potential threats.

“Nothing,” Eros said with a tone of disappointment.

“Why would this room be empty?” you said, utterly confused.

“Well, my mentor just bought this building so maybe he has plans for this room. I dunno, this is all very weird. We should hurry up to the basement though. We don’t wanna get caught.”

You nodded in agreement and went back into the stairwell with Eros following behind. It didn’t take long to reach the basement but once you both were battle ready, you slowly opened the door to the basement. Your eyes widened in shock. The basement had been transformed into some underground factory, machinery everywhere, metal tables, and boxes piled high.

“What the fuck?” Eros muttered under his breath as he gripped his bow tighter.

You walked around analyzing what was laid out in front of you. You headed to the pile of boxes stacked on the furthest wall. You sliced open the box that was about your eye level using your pronged knife. Purple powder started to spill out of the box and you could see some clear plastic peeking through. Confused and curious, you cut through the tape of the box to properly examine its contents.

“Holy shit.” you whispered, your voice echoing through the room.

Eros jogged over to where you were, “What? What happened?”

He peered over your shoulder and inhaled sharply. Laid right in front of you was a box with packets of packaged purple powder. You looked around the room again, seeing the machinery and tools in a new light. This building was holding an illegal drug factory.

author’s note: the long awaited ch 2!! it took awhile bc of school, exams, and also thinking through the plot. anyways hope you all enjoy and lmk if u would like to be added to the tag list :)

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chibienvychan03 · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Valentine’s Day?

Pairing: Victor x female MC

Warning: lots of fluff and sassy MC

Summary: Given the amount of work you’ve received, the days blur into each other and you can’t believe you’ve forgotten about Valentine’s Day. You had planned on skipping it, but something changes your mind.

Gift fic for @otome0heart. Happy holidays!

When you arrive at the office, you find the atmosphere has completely changed. Instead of being hectic and chaotic, you see your employees whispering and giggling (mainly the girls), but the mood is definitely better though you still have your assignment to work on. Even though you’re their boss, you hate having to put your foot down hard so you will be able to complete it on time and on schedule.

As you’re about to say something, Kiki rushes over to you, looking like she’s on a caffeine and sugar high which to be honest is her default mode most of the time. “Boss, boss, boss!”

“Yes, yes, yes?”

“Who are you going to give your chocolates to?” Your confusion speaks in volumes. Sighing Kiki gives you that ‘I’m disappointed in you’ look. “Have you forgotten what today is?”

“Eh?”

“Told you so! She totally forgot.” Ah yes, Willow the voice of reason and sometimes the kill joy with reality. It makes you wonder what you forgot.

One glance around the office, you start noticing small things, namely all those red, pink, and white hearts. Then there are a few pictures of what appears to be a baby wearing a diaper while holding a bow and arrow. Isn’t it bad parenting to let a child that age hold a dangerous weapon? This annoys you, being left in the dark.

“What is it I’m forgetting?” You cross your arms over your chest, giving them that stern look, but it has no effect on them. They’re probably used to it by now or don’t care.

“I can’t believe you forgot! Hey, there’s still time to buy some chocolate.” Kiki bounces around you. Why is doing it? You have no clue except you wish she would stop as you’re becoming dizzy with her antics.

“Why is it important I buy chocolate?” What was so special about buying chocolate? It’s just another day. Wait a moment, what is today? Thanks to all the overtime you’ve been putting into this assignment, the days have become blurred. You at least know which day of the week it is, thank you Mister CEO and having to give updates.

“Boss, you have no romantic bone in your body,” Willow sighs a long one as if she’s the one suffering. She swivels in her chair to face the two of you. “Maybe that’s why you don’t have a date for tonight.”

“Date? We’re swamped with work. I can’t believe I’m saying, but we need to concentrate on this assignment.” For once, you’re the one who isn’t losing concentration or having a wandering mind as a certain someone who has a penchant for reminding you appears in your thoughts. You quickly squash those as now isn’t the time.

“Don’t tell me your date is work. Boring.” Kiki makes an exaggerated yawn.

Hearts. A baby wearing a diaper and armed with a bow. Chocolate. Date. What on earth involved all of these? Think. You rack your mind trying to figure out what they’re referring to.

Minor comes to the rescue. “Boss, who are you going to give your Valentine’s Day chocolate to?”

Your train of thought comes to a screeching stop. Wait a moment. It can’t be, can it? You pull out your phone to check the day. Friday the fourteenth of February. Oh shit. You can’t believe you forgot about this day. Then again, you have a habit of forgetting your own birthday. Oops?

All three of your employees are expectantly staring at you, waiting for you to answer their question of who you’re going to give chocolate to. Considering who your boss is and your desire for your company to be successful, you have no choice other than disappointing them.

“No one. I don’t have time for romance.” The truth hurts as many say.

“Boo,” Kiki pouts, but at least, she stops circling you like… a predator? “Why not give Kiro chocolate? He loves eating snacks.”

Err…..

“No way, she’s gonna give bro chocolate,” Minor chimes in. What a major fanboy. It makes you wonder if he’s started a secret fan club.

“Officer Gavin kicks ass,” Willow adds her two cents. “It’s a no brainer there.”

A guy from editing peers over the partition. “The mind is the strongest part of the body. I’m sure boss appreciates someone with a high IQ like Professor Lucien.”

“Kiro’s the same age as Boss.”

You plant your foot on Kiki’s as you do not want your age revealed to everyone. It works as she yelps and is now hopping on one foot, her good one. While you don’t mind them knowing your birthday, you do mind them knowing how old you’ve become. Not that you’re senior citizen old, but still!

“Two years isn’t a huge difference,” Willow points out. She knows you don’t want to reveal your age, but she does have a point about the age gap between you and a certain officer. “Not like four years.”

Minor nods his head in agreement. “And you two have a history together.”

“If you take into consideration, the ages people got married historically,” the editing guy counters. “Four years is nothing. Some of them are twenty years apart!”

“Kiro’s a lot cuter.”

“Bro can protect her,” Minor argues to which Willow agrees with. “He’s awesome with a gun and can take on ten guys at the same time.”

“Professor Lucien has helped with the show many times.”

Why is everyone interested with your love life? Or rather lack of it. Not that you mind as you have your priorities in order. It’s not like Minor or that guy from editing received any chocolate. The last time you checked, neither Kiki or Willow were interested in someone. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You can celebrate all you want. Just leave me out of it… and make sure you finish your work.”

“So if you’re not giving Bro chocolate, then that means I got some and he didn’t.” Hold the phone, someone actually gave Minor chocolate? Who’s desperate enough to give him some?

You turn your attention to Kiki and Willow. “Have you given your chocolate?”

“Of course!” Kiki chirps and then she points to someone you can’t recall his name. The guy blushes when attention is brought onto him. “We’re going on a date tonight!”

Willow just points to Minor. This does not compute. Error. Error. Did she just admit to giving Minor chocolate? Yes, she did. “We’re going on a double date. Someone has to keep the kids in line.”

“Hey!” Kiki sticks out her tongue and blows a raspberry.

Reinforcements have arrived! Anna enters the room, carrying the materials needed for your latest assignment. “Back to work.” Yes! It’s nice having someone on your side.

“Awww… it’s Valentine’s Day.” Kiki pouts, however, she reluctantly returns to her desk. “We wanna know who Boss is giving her chocolate to.”

“She should give it to Officer Gavin.”

“Yeah, Bro will be happy to receive anything from you.”

“I’m sure Professor Lucien will appreciate your effort.”

“Kiro’s the best choice.”

“You guys…”

“We can have this discussion during our lunch break.” You nod your head in agreement. Maybe they’ll forget by then. “Since we all know, she’s giving it to CEO Victor.”

“Not you too.”

Lunch happens to take out from your third favorite restaurant. You originally planned to make your meals, thanks to those cooking lessons, but work leaves you with little time and energy. When you arrive home, all you want to do is face plant onto your bed and not wake up for the next eight hours. Thank whatever deity, they have delivery. It saves you time, and you can work up until your midday break.

Back to the battlefield you go. Your employees have other things in mind as they divvy up your portion amongst themselves and start working. You blink several times, wondering what has gotten into them. Were they not complaining about the workload? Why the sudden change of heart? There’s something fishy going on there.

You turn to Anna. “What’s going on?”

“I told them you’re taking the afternoon off.” Hey, aren’t you supposed to be the boss? “Hurry before the shops run out of the good stuff.” She ushers you out the door and then shuts it.

What about your purse? As if reading your mind, the door opens. Someone shoves your purse into your hands before shutting the door again. You attempt to open the door, but it refuses to budge. It can’t be locked as you can turn the knob. No, it’s more like something heavy is preventing the door from moving.

“You don’t want to give Kiro second rate chocolate!”

“Don’t you mean Officer Gavin?”

“Agreed. Bro is the one.”

“What about Professor Lucien?”

“You already know what CEO Victor likes.”

You resist the urge to bang your head on the door or nearest wall. Time to head over to the nearest shop for chocolate. While you’d rather not buy it, no one says you have to actually give it. You can make up a guy to give it to and eat the chocolate yourself. Yeah, that sounds like an excellent plan. You’d give yourself a pat on the back.

And then remember, you need a ride back to your place. Since you don’t want to give them any ideas, you decide to not call any of those guys. You scroll down your phone list and see the number to your classmate, the one Victor was ‘not jealous’ of. Yeah, right. You decide to send him a text, knowing that nothing would happen between the two of you since you’re female, and he swings that way. His quick response startles you.

He’s on his way.

His quick appearance also startles you. “I was in the area. You know dropping off my gift.”

“Aren’t girls supposed to be giving the gifts?” You blink several times, trying to figure out how this same sex thing works. While you don’t mind them, you have no clue about how they interact with each other. Your research lands you straight into the doujinshi area. While they’re entertaining, you doubt they’re completely realistic. Then again fiction tends to exaggerate things.

“Someone has to initiate it, and since he doesn’t have a clue, I have to,” your friend says with a slight shrug. It makes sense to you. “Have you given yours chocolate?” In spite of his helmet, you can tell he’s waggling his eyebrows at you.

“Ugh… Not you too.”

“Oh. Whoops? Sorry.”

You wave him off. “Not your fault. My employees are more interested in the lack of my love life than actually working.” He hands over you the second helmet.

“You gonna head home or buy something for him?”

Good question. While you want to head home, the thought of giving your ‘crush’ chocolate on Valentine’s Day sounds appealing even if it’s store bought. Then again, he does have a very high standard, considering his culinary expertise. By now, you figure all the good stuff is gone. Now the thought of going home sounds appealing.

“You can always make him some. I mean I did for mine.”

You stare at him as if he’s grown a second appendage. It’s something you hadn’t considered. To cover up your inevitable blush due to your friend being too smart for his own good, you shove the helmet onto yourself. “Is there enough time?”

“Unless you take several hours, you’ll be fine. Hey, why don’t I help you? It’ll go faster.”

“But won’t that be kinda like cheating?”

“You’ll be doing most of the work. I’m there to make sure things go smoothly and offer any suggestions.” Technically you’d be making it, but a little advice never hurts, right? Especially when the recipient of that creation happens to be that guy. Mister Critical.

If that’s the case, there’s no need to think about it. “To the nearest supermarket!”

Levi chuckled as he picked up speed without driving recklessly, making you wonder why he doesn’t seem to be the type to drive fast. His personality fits, but then again, looks can be deceiving as you’ve experienced many times, often with you looking like a fool. He pulls up close to the entrance of what appears to be a family owned supermarket.

“Ah, friends of mine own this place,” Levi answers your question before you can even formulate it.

Leaving your helmets, you two make your way through the shelves. You take your time to look at what they have to offer. For being this size, they offer more of a variety than you anticipated. You wonder what you’re going to use in your chocolate. Of course, it will not be too sweet as he isn’t into sweets like you. He says you’re sweet enough for the both of you. Maybe a hint of sweetness. Yeah. That means dark chocolate. You head to where they keep the baking supplies while your friend wanders through the other aisles. Dark chocolate with maybe some accents of… white chocolate?

“How about some flavoring?” He pops up from the next aisle, completely surprising you into an almost heart attack. “Oops? My bad.”

Once you get your breathing and heart rate back to normal, you see what he’s holding. He has a few different flavors in small bottles. They appear small, but you know better. Since they’re concentrated, a few drops will suffice lest the recipient be overwhelmed with the flavor.

Vanilla, rose, strawberry, and mango?

“Can you bring me one of each?” You request. Variety makes things interesting, and if one fails, you’ll have the others as back-ups.

“Sure.” Levi disappears just as quickly and quietly as he appeared. You swear he’s part ninja or something. Maybe he’s a secret agent. You end that train of thought before it takes a surprise journey.

With him not distracting you, you return your attention to the selection of chocolates in front of you. You read the cacao concentration before picking something not too bitter but not sweet either. On second thought, you grab more as you don’t know how many attempts you’ll need before you manage to make a decent chocolate. Having the main ingredient in your basket, you search for the others. Somewhere along the line, Levi takes the basket from you as it’s becoming heavier with your selections. Not that it was impossible to carry. Having a gentleman with you can be useful especially when you know he’s not interested in you other than being a friend and possibly siblings.

At the register, the cashier rings up your purchases. Your friend and she know each other. Yet, why is she attempting to flirt with him? Not that it’s any of your business. You just hate it when people are disappointed. He is either oblivious or doesn’t care like a certain someone in your life. Well make that four guys you know.

“Levi, why didn’t you call?” a middle-aged man appears. “I would have prepared your favorite snack.”

He politely declines. “Spur of the moment decision, and I have urgent business to attend to.”

“What can be that urgent you don’t want to spend time with your old pal?” He notices you’re in the company of his friend. “I see. What a cute girl you’re with. Whose girlfriend is she?”

“Er…” You attempt to answer.

“That’s the urgent business. I’m helping her win her crush over.” He appears to be teasing you, but something in his tone tells you he’s serious about assisting you with your quest to win him over and especially not make a fool of yourself like you normally do.

“He’s not a crush,” you mumble.

“Who took classes on cooking with me?”

You probably could pass off as a human tomato at this point. “That’s different!” You rack your mind trying to dig yourself out of this hole you somehow managed to fall into. Your brain starts waving a white flag, easily surrendering.

Levi chuckles. “I’ll stop teasing you.”

“You took cooking classes?” The cashier gives your male friend those eyes.

“Well yeah. It’s not healthy eating out or pre-made meals.” You wish you could have said that earlier. As they say, hindsight is 20/20. You hate it.

“We’d better get going,” Levi says, prompting her to hurry up ringing you up. “She still needs to cook and then give it to him before the day ends.”

Once you paid for the ingredients, your friend takes it back to his motorcycle before securing it and then you. He hops onto his bike and then heads to your place. You’ve been to each other’s homes so neither of you needs directions.

“Let’s do this!” You’re very much pumped to make these chocolates. And well if they turn out not the greatest, no one said you couldn’t eat them yourself, right? You plan on eating all the fails anyways, but even though you love chocolate, you hope there aren’t too many of them.

Levi smiles while shaking his head. “You’re like the little sister I never had.”

You turn to stare at him. Family? This brings several questions to mind, mainly about his family which he has yet to share anything about. “Only child?”

“No, I had an adopted brother, but that’s about it.” Levi shrugs and carries the bag for you. Good thing, it’s heavy. He doesn’t say anything more so you drop it.

Inside your kitchen, the two of you clean up and start prepping to make the chocolate. He helps with the set up but once you start actually making it, he steps back and let’s you take over with him supervising you. You decide to create four different flavors. Kind of like the saying, ‘Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.’ In addition to the flavoring, you have picked up some nuts, because well why not? Sometimes you believe he’s nuts.

Just as you’re about to put the pot with the chocolate on the stove, Levi holds your arm. “You don’t want to put it on direct heat. Use double broiler.” When you stare at him in confusion, he turns off the stove and explains. “Get a larger pot and fill it with water. Then you place this pot in it. Make sure the water doesn’t go into your chocolate.”

“Oh. No wonder why my first attempt ended horribly.” Whoops? You follow his advice and grab a larger pot to fill with water. Once it’s filled, you lug it over to your stove and turn it on. Next you place your pot full of chocolate in it. When it starts melting, you stir it and are thankful it doesn’t burn or turn hard. Wow. You’ll have to remember this for future use. This batch will be the vanilla flavored, some with nuts. Once it’s a nice gooey mess, you take it off the heat before grabbing your already prepared tray. You stir in some nuts and then meticulously pour it into the molds. When you used up what you melted so far, you ask your assistant to place it in the fridge while you start on the second batch.

As it turns out, you have more chocolate than you anticipate. Oh well you did prepare in case of fails, but so far, there haven’t been any as you have a very watchful assistant who keeps reminding you. Maybe you need to improve your concentration and not let your mind wander that often. It’s great for creating programs, not great when you’re trying to do something that requires concentration.

“Why not chocolate covered fruit?” Levi suggests as he rummages through your fridge. He emerges with a pack of strawberries. When did you get those? Oh wait, you went on a grocery run a few days ago. Come to think of it, you wonder why you picked up strawberries as they’re not in season. Maybe they were on sale? Given Valentine’s Day, you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case.

“I’ll pick up some whip cream later.” When you bring your gift to him, you plan on grabbing some. That’s until you see your assistant holding a tub of whip cream. “What?”

“I snuck it in while you’re distracted.”

Your eye twitches as you didn’t see him with it at all, but at the same time, you’re thankful. It means no detour. After all, he’s doing you more than a favor by not only driving, but supervising your cooking. This time, you know what to do. You wash the strawberries and have your assistant dry them off with paper towels. With him being busy, you start up the.. you lost count batch of chocolate. You get it to a nice consistency and turn off the stove. Then you realize, you don’t have anywhere to place them. You notice a lined tray ready to receive the strawberries. After thanking him, you begin dipping the strawberries and placing them on the prepped tray.

Minutes later, you’re finished and have a messy kitchen, but it’s worth it to make those home-made chocolate. As to whether, they’d taste good is up in the air. You’ve made a few extra for you two to try before you gift him with it. He gets up to start help with the clean-up, but you push him back down. Levi has done more than his share.

Once they’ve hardened, you take out your tester chocolates and divvy them between the two of you. For your first successful batch, they’re not too bad. It’s not like those sold at candy shops, however, they’re a vast improvement on your first attempt… attempts.

Between the two of you, you manage to find materials to wrap up your gift to him. You also decide to give him some of the chocolate as you’ve made more than you anticipated. A friendly Valentine’s gift. Levi surprisingly accepts it and pats you on the head like some sort of cute pet. Hey!

Victor-Victor-Victor-Victor

Since you know Victor happens to be a workaholic and little romance in his body, you know he won’t take today off. If anything, he may be annoyed with the amount of chocolate he’s receiving from his female (and maybe male) fans. You stare at the gift in your hands, wondering whether or not to give it to him since he’s probably more than irritated. A nudge from behind causes you to stumble a little.

“He doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Er… I’m worried he’d find me annoying.”

Levi leans back on his motorcycle. “Why would he find you annoying?”

You wave your hand. “Capitalist CEO. He didn’t become a leading financial institution by being a pushover… or romantic person.”

“I’m sure he’ll make an exception for you.” You blink several times. “You’re a funny, kind, generous, hard working person. How could he not fall for you? If he so much makes you cry, I’m taking him out of the picture.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead you hug him. “Thanks.”

“Now go sweep him off his feet, and remember what I said about making him disappear.” He releases you so you can go to him.

“Right…”

“After all, no one messes with my little sister and gets away with it.”

“I’m not little!” you pout, but the huge grin on your face gives you a comical appearance. You hug him for a second time. “Fine, big bro.” Then it occurs to you if he sees you as his little sister, then oh boy… Victor would be in for a world of hurt should he hurt you. Isn’t that what big brothers do?

“Just don’t kill him. I still need him to sign my paychecks.”

“All right. He’ll be missing a limb or two then.”

You playfully punch him. “I’m serious. He still needs to write.”

“Who ever said it’s those limbs?”

This time your whole face turns red and you smack him with your purse. “You!”

“Feeling nervous?”

Come to think of it, you’re not. He’s distracted you with his shenanigans. “Nope!”

Something falling catches your attention. You see Goldman hastily picking up folders and papers. Having some mercy on him, you decide to help him pick them up. Unfortunately some of them fly too far from either of you and are about to escape when your big brother catches them for you. You thank him for it.

Goldman sounds nervous as he’s trying to warn you of something. It sounds like gibberish. “Slow down and take a deep breath.”

“Later!” Levi waves to you.

“Bye, big bro!”

This time Goldman’s jaw drops. Did he think you two were? Oh boy.

“We’re not in that kind of relationship. More like we adopted each other as siblings… unofficially.”

Goldman lets out a sigh of relief. “It’s a warzone in there.”

“Let me guess. Victor has many admirers giving him unwanted gifts?”

“Ding ding ding. You have won a prize. Yeah, he’s in a very, very sour mood. Please don’t say anything to upset him further.”

You give him that look. “I’m not that bad.”

He returns that look. “Yes, you are. I don’t know how many times you’ve left boss stressed out. I lost count.” Hmph. See if you help him with any of his assignments.

“I guess it’s better I don’t give these.” You hold up your wrapped gift.

“Are those chocolates?” Goldman looks horrified at the thought.

“They’re not sweet! I made sure of it. They’re not the greatest, but I’m getting better at cooking.” You’re proud of what you’ve accomplished and how far you’ve come from being a walking kitchen disaster.

“You made them?” Goldman gulps as if you’ve made Victor his last meal.

You glare at him. “I’m not that bad, and big bro helped me with them.”

Goldman shakes his head. “Good luck in there.”

“What? You’re going home?”

“No. I’m running errands.” He checks his watch. “Oh crap, gotta go before it’s too late. Thanks for your help.” With his papers and folders secured, Goldman wastes no time in leaving you in the dust.

“Bye?”

Might as well be prepared to enter the battlefield, aka LFG. You check your gift for the hundredth time you’d probably stare holes into it. Everything is good to go… except your feet. You mentally shout at your feet to start moving. After several swear words and threats, your feet start moving to the entrance and then inside where everyone looks like there’s a ticking time bomb somewhere.

Come to think of it, there is a literal ticking time bomb who calls himself their boss, aka Victor. The people move skittishly around you as you make your way to their boss’ office. Having given so many reports, you can walk there in your sleep. As you come closer to his office, the people become more stressed out and anxious. You’re tempted to sneak up behind them and yell “BOO!” However, a figure who suspiciously appears to be victor pops up in your mind, telling you that it’s childish behavior.

Even in your mind, Victor is a kill joy.

Just as you’re about to raise your hand and knock, you hear several strange noises coming from behind that wooden barrier. You blink several times before placing your ear against the door. While it’s bad manners to eavesdrop, you’re worried about Victor. Is he hurt? Does he need an ambulance? That’s what you tell yourself when that same figure chastises you about listening on other people’s conversation. From what you hear, it doesn’t sound like someone needs medical assistance. Phew. You take a step back, but being the queen of klutzes, you trip on something invisible (rather yourself) and fall back, landing right on your rear.

“Ow…” Somehow you manage to keep your voice low though it’s not low enough as you hear movement from behind the door.

Glancing around, you scurry over to a place to hide. Why are you hiding when you’re there to see Victor? You have no idea. Impulse perhaps? It’s small. You shove yourself into that little corner, hoping he would not venture further than the doorway to look out.

Victor lets out his sigh which you believe is reserved for you when you’re behaving childishly, looking like a fool, or thinking something he considers stupid. “I know you’re here.” When you don’t move or make any noise, he sounds exasperated. “I’m not mad at you. Promise.”

Since he has never broken any promises, you crawl out of your little hiding place. As soon as you appear in his sights, he seems to be in disbelief. Probably because you’re there or how you managed to cram yourself into that tiny space.

“I heard you went home early,” Victor starts off. He appears like his normal self though you know better. Even if he won’t admit it, he’s worried about your health.

“I’m fine.”

“I can see that.” His posture screams he wants to know why you’re there in the first place.

“Err… I have something for you.” You walk up to him before shoving your gift at him, more like at his broad chest.

Victor turns his attention to the thing you’ve shoved at him. “What’s this?”

“If you want to know, you’ll have to open it,” you tease him. Given the wrapping design and theme, it’s not hard to guess you’re giving him a Valentine’s gift.

“I’m not into sweets.”

You puff up your cheeks. “I know that. I made sure they’re not too sweet.”

His long fingers start to meticulously unwrap his gift. “You made these?”

“Yep!” You sound very proud of yourself.

“Shouldn’t you be giving it to your boyfriend?”

EH???

“What boyfriend?” Seriously you don’t recall being into any guy.

“You hugged that guy twice.”

“Oh, what about big bro?”

This stuns Victor into silence for a minute or two. “You don’t have any brothers.”

“Well now I do!” Wait a moment. “You’re jealous of my gay brother again?”

“I’m not jealous of your gay brother… again? What’s that supposed to mean?”

This leaves you in giggling fits. It takes you a few moments and a stern look from him for you to calm yourself enough to talk. “Do you remember the cooking class you substituted for?” Nod of his head. “It’s the same guy. My gay friend turned gay brother.”

You catch a blush appear on his face just as he turns away. “Hopefully they’re edible.”

HEY! “I worked hard on them. Big bro says I’ve improved a lot.”

Victor motions for you to follow him into his office. There are several stacks of papers and folders both on his desk and around it. What’s going on? It’s never this cluttered when you’re there ever. Victor appreciates his space being clean and orderly. You should know as he scolds you for making a mess or for putting away things in the wrong places.

“If now isn’t a good time, I can leave,” you say in an unsure tone.

“I’m almost done.” Victor ambles over to his chair behind his desk. He picks up his glasses and places them on his face. Without looking in your direction, he adds, “I’ve made reservations at that new restaurant you wanted to try.”

What? You rack your mind, trying to think how he heard about it. The only person you told is your now new big brother while you two were making those chocolates.

“You mentioned it in your moments post.”

Oh that. Making those chocolates and then mustering up the courage to give them has pushed that thought way, way far down. “Hehehehe. I forgot about that.” Wait a moment. “I made that post during lunch. How could you get reservations? It’s hard to get them unless you make it days in advance.”

“I have my ways.” Victor shuffles papers around before settling on one. His eyes never leave it as he continues the conversation with you. “It’s called having connections. You can use more of them.”

Ouch… Does he have to be that brutal? Although you know he’s right, you wish he’d tell you in a more gentle way instead of dropping it on you like a bomb. You’ve been working on gathering connections and have invited a few influential people to your show. Had it been a year earlier, they wouldn’t even consider being on your show which indicates how much you’ve grown and learned under his care.

“You’re better than when you started.” Is this a complement? If it isn’t, you decide to take it as one.

“But isn’t it expensive?” You recall the reviews and how they say it’s pricy but definitely worth it for the quality and experience.

“That’s for me to worry about. All you need to worry about is what you want to eat.”

“Okay.” You make you way to one of the chairs when you realize one of the chairs is occupied by a large mountain of gifts. In fact, they’re practically burying the poor furniture. You hadn’t noticed this, however, to be fair, you had several things on your mind. The fact your gift hasn’t joined this enormous pile gives you hope that Victor would try what you’ve made. At least yours has a chance of being opened.

After pulling out your phone, you browse the restaurants website, more specifically their menu. Their prices cause you to wince. It’d take you a week of work to get enough money for one meal, and that’s for yourself alone. As if on cue, Victor tell you to order what you want and ignore the price. He can afford it. According to him, it’s cheap for that kind of restaurant.

Wow… Cheap. The life of the rich and infamous.

You pull out a pen and pad of paper from your purse. When Victor raises a brow, you stick your tongue out at him. “It’s for random ideas.” As soon as he returns to his work, you peruse their menu. There are a lot of things you’d like to try and most likely to overeat, making a fool of yourself in the process. So this time, you’ll come prepared. You will plan what you’re going to eat for future visits so as to not tempt yourself to eat more than your stomach can handle. For a second, you consider telling Victor, however, you squash that thought. He wouldn’t praise you or acknowledge you for something he considers trivial.

By the time you finish selecting your dishes for this visit, Victor has finished cleaning up. “Will you be ordering the entire menu?”

Ouch… “Yes,” you reply with a cheeky grin. “Hope you can afford it!”

Victor stands over you, looking down at you and your notes. His soft snort tells you he’s read them. “Indeed you have ordered everything.” He pauses. “Wise decision to spread it out on multiple visits.”

Oh my. Did he just praise you again? While you’re tempted to request he say it again, you decide it’s better to not push your luck. After all, he’ll be paying for future visits. Unless he increases your salary, you doubt you’d be able to afford it without having to make sacrifices and live off of cup noodles like a certain someone who shall remain nameless.

“Are you going to try your gift?” You ask as you follow him, noticing he’s carrying your gift with him.

“Chocolate is for dessert,” Victor reminds you, causing you to blush. Right.

“Does that mean you’ll try it after dinner?” You bat your eyes even though he can’t see behind him. He doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head or does he? Hm… He has a knack for catching you doing things when he’s not even facing you or looking in your direction.

“Yes.”

His one-word reply causes you to be giddy with delight. You hope he likes it as you’ve put effort into making it…. Even if it’s last minute, but he doesn’t have to know that! What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him for now.

Victor-Victor-Victor-Victor

With it being Valentine’s Day and Friday night, the restaurant is packed with a long line going out the door. If they’re willing to wait outside, then the food must be worth it. You become excited with anticipation. It may not be Victor level cooking, you appreciate good food.

“Victor, I—”

Some heavy set male runs straight into you causing you to lurch forward. Instinctively you brace for an impact that never arrives. Instead you find yourself in the embrace of the man you like a lot… maybe even love? Once Victor helps you back on your feet, you notice two things… Victor glaring and second your high heel is no longer high heel on the left side. You believe he’s glaring at you, however, he’s not looking directly at you, more like over you.

“Why should I apologize? She’s standing in the way,” the guy argues. Where should you stand? It’s not like there is a vacant spot for you to occupy. Now is there?

“You should look where you’re going. Perhaps you need glasses. I can help with that.”

The guy starts turning red. “I can see just fine.”

“Then you should have seen her.” Victor indicates you.

“She’s tiny. Careful someone might sit on her.”

Why you!

Victor stops you from marching straight up to him and giving him a piece of your mind. “On second thought, you’ll need a lawyer.”

“What?”

“You could have given her a concussion, and you broke her shoe.” So Victor did notice your heel-less left shoe. Hard to get anything past him.

“Gentlemen,” the restaurant’s manager speaks up. “There will be no violence in this establishment.”

“Tell that to him,” the rude guy grumbles.

“How is knocking someone over not violent,” you finally explode. “I coulda gotten a concussion.”

“Mister, please leave.” At first you think he’s referring to Victor, but his next words confirm who. “I’m terribly sorry, Mister.” He’s facing Victor. “Your table is this way.”

“Err…” You can walk but awkwardly with uneven shoes.

Victor understands what you’re trying to get at before you can say it. He literally sweeps you off your feet and carries you to your table. On your way there, more than a few customers look in your direction and whisper. Not everyday a guy carries a girl to their table.

Not like you have a choice given your broken footwear. Still it’s embarrassing to be stared at by these strangers. Somehow Victor ignores every single one of them. Of course, he does. He’s the great and mighty Victor. His name is very much appropriate for him.

At your private table, the manager fusses over the two of you, making sure you’re well taken care of before taking his leave. It makes you wonder if this is the usual service for Victor whenever he goes out or if it’s from the earlier incident. Thanks to you having decided what you want to eat before you arrived at the restaurant, you’re able to put in your order. Considering how packed this place is, you wouldn’t be surprised should service be slower than usual. Not that you’ll make a deal out of it.

Now what?

“Are you sure you’re just siblings?”

You groan. Not this again. “I’m sure of it. Unless I become a guy, he’s not interested in me.”

“You sure he isn’t lying?”

Here we go for another round. “I’m sure of it. We both like looking at cute guys and before you say anything, appreciation for nice aesthetics doesn’t mean I’m in love with them. It’s superficial level appreciation.”

Victor appears skeptical, but he doesn’t push it further.

A random thought pops into your mind, causing you to giggle.

“What useless thing are you thinking of this time?”

“All my thoughts aren’t useless. My mind can be creative and imaginative, okay?”

“What is it?”

You prop your head on your hands. “You should be more worried for yourself.”

“Oh?”

“If he’s going to hit on anyone, it’ll be you.”

Victor is stunned into silence. You’re not sure if he’s against same sex couples or tolerates them. Maybe it’s the realization that yes, there are men who would be after him. He probably had not even considered it much less thought about it.

“And if you hurt me, well you know how big brothers are overprotective of their little sisters.” You somehow recall he’s good at martial arts, very good at it. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to put it to use against a certain someone.

“He won’t have a chance.” Oh confident now are we?

Before either of you can say another word, your waiter arrives with a bottle of fine wine. “On the house.” She places it in a prepared container of ice. You peer at it. Oh it sounds good from what you’ve read. Apparently you’re not the only one who read it.

“You can have one glass.” That’s better than nothing. You’ll take it.

Victor-Victor-Victor-Victor

Man you’re stuffed. The food is too good, but not as good as a certain restaurant which Victor knows all too well, considering he owns it. You’re thankful you ordered just the right amount. Knowing yourself, you’d still keep eating even if you’re full.

You pull out your phone. “I’m going to give them a five-star review.” In your review, you write about your experience there including the incident before dinner and their heavenly cuisine. If Victor asks where you want to eat and doesn’t feel like cooking, you know what you’re answer will be.

Victor scoffs at this though he seems to be amused and overall in a good mood. When you place down your phone, you notice your gift has been opened.

“So what do you think?”

“Needs improvement.” Your spirits sink. “But you’ve come a long way from when you started. I’ve had my fair share of less than desirable results in the past. No one starts out good or perfect.”

Then Victor must have had some fails when he first started cooking. This somewhat lifts your spirits. Considering he has a huge head start over you, you take it stride. It’s not like Rome was built in a day as they say.

After paying for your meal (minus the wine), Victor once again sweeps you off your feet to carry you to his car. Unlike some big wigs, he doesn’t need a chauffeur to drive him around. He’d probably become too impatient waiting for the poor person.

“Where are we headed?” You ask as soon as you’re safely secured and he’s behind the wheel.

“To the mall.”

“Eh?”

“Your broken shoes.”

Oh. “I can repair them at home.” You don’t want to trouble him more than necessary.

“I’m buying you better ones, sturdier shoes.” In his language, it means more expensive and better quality.

By now you should be celebrating. Free dinner and shoes, but somehow your heart isn’t into it. You’re not sure why.

“Aren’t you going to gloat about getting free shoes?”

You turn your head to face him. “Not in the mood.”

“Is something wrong?” Victor sounds genuinely concerned, given how you love to banter with him.

“It’s… I don’t know. I guess I’m not ready for this to end.”

“Is that so?” Victor takes a few seconds to look at you before turning his attention back to the road.

“I’m actually enjoying spending time with you.” Shut up mouth! Why don’t you dig a hole and bury yourself in it?

“Are you sure it’s not the food?”

This time you glare at him. “It’s not always about the food. Believe it or not, good company makes the food taste even better.”

“I see.” No, you don’t.

You puff up your cheeks and stare out the passenger side window. Could this get any more awkward? Scratch that. You don’t want to jinx yourself.

“Why don’t you spend the night at my place?”

Say what?

“A certain someone says she doesn’t want this to end.”

Right. “I don’t have my stuff.”

“Already taken care of.” How in the world? You decide not to question it.

Victor-Victor-Victor-Victor

At the mall, Victor carries you as he’s not willing to risk you tripping and falling due to your broken shoe. Says that you’re a walking disaster with two good shoes. When he teases you, you can feel the warmth and affection in his voice. He does care in his own way, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. It just wouldn’t be him.

When the sales lady notices you and your predicament, she hurries over to you. “You poor thing. I’ll find a pair of shoes that’ll flatter your figure.” How does she know your size?

After Victor places you on a chair, you take off your shoes and turn one of them over. Oh… Right in the middle is your size. You haven’t worn this pair enough times to wear out the writing. Meanwhile Victor stands guard over you. Not like you’re going to have another person try to shove you to the ground.

The sales lady returns with a dozen pair of shoes. How she managed to carry all of them. You’re not sure nor do you ask. She does have good taste in footwear. You try on all of them, some of them twice. So many nice shoes, but you only need one pair. You don’t feel like owing Victor a lot. After some consideration and thought, you narrow your selection down to two.

“Which looks better? This or that?” You’re wearing one of the pairs.

“We’ll take them both.”

“Um… I need one pair.” Mouth, stop moving and let him buy you the damn shoes.

“Since a certain dummy can’t decide, I’ll buy them both for her.” Victor grabs the box for the shoes you’re wearing and the other pair. He heads over to the cash register.

“You have a nice boyfriend.”

BOYFRIEND?! “Er… we’re good friends.”

“Are you sure about that? The way he looks at you.”

You blink in confusion. “He’s probably annoyed with having to replace my broken shoes.”

She laughs. “No. He looks at you like you’re his most precious person, a treasure he intends to protect.”

“Eh? How do you know it’s that?”

She holds up her left hand. “My husband does that a lot.” Now you notice the ring on her finger. She’s married. “Take my advice, don’t let this one go. He’s a keeper.”

“Right.”

Once he’s paid for the shoes, you insist on taking a stroll through the mall to walk off dinner. Victor isn’t happy though he indulges you, and the two of you take a leisurely walk through the building. Good thing this is an indoor mall so you don’t have to deal with the cold weather. As you pass by the window displays, you take a good look at their merchandise. A pair of rings catches your attention.

“Promise rings.” You didn’t plan to say it out loud. You did anyways.

“Those are for children.”

You roll your eyes at him and point at the price tag. “I don’t think children can afford that on their allowance.”

“Right.”

The cute puppies and kitties catch your attention. You hurry over to look at them and maybe they’ll let you pet them! They’re so adorable. Although you’re tempted to adopt one, you know you don’t have the time or energy to properly look after one. Maybe one of your friends will let you pet sit? You’d be more than willing to look after their furry four-legged family member for a short time. After all, you took care of Pearly while Gavin was away on a mission.

Inside the store, they have more than kitties and puppies. They have fishes, mice, lizards, and birds. You’re not crazy about mice or lizards. The fish are pretty to look at, but they’re kind of boring. It’s not like you can play with them or pet them. A small bird wanders to you and starts whistling. Is it serenading you? You glance around to see if the employees would let you pet the bird. Sadly they’re all busy. You reach in and the bird scoots over to your hand before climbing onto your finger. Then it makes its way up your arm and onto your shoulder. It snuggles against you.

“Oh wow, he’s never been this friendly with anyone.” A store employee appears, startling you and inadvertently the bird too. “Sorry. We normally don’t let people touch him. He tends to be grumpy most of the time.”

You reach up and start petting him. He leans into your touch, chirping in content. “Really? He seems friendly.” If this bird is as how the employee makes him out to be, you’ve found Victor in bird form it seems. Maybe this can be Victor Junior? Thinking about Victor, where is he? You thought he’d follow you into the store.

“Miss?”

“Yes?”

“Please adopt him! I’m begging you.”

What?

“You’re the first person he’s been nice to. I didn’t think he would be attached to anyone.”

“Um… I’m busy so I don’t think I can properly care for him.”

“You’ll do fine. These are great starter birds since they’re not hard to take care of.” The store employee begins telling you the benefits of having a pet and one that’s low maintenance. You find out this is a cockatiel. Thinking about the name causes you to giggle.

Between the store employee and the cute birdy eyes, you break down and decide to adopt this adorable creature. This time, you’re paying for him along with what’s needed to keep him happy and healthy. He’s content to sit on your shoulder the entire time and growls whenever he thinks someone is a threat to you.

Cage, food, toys, perches, feeding dishes, something for water, some basic first aid, and the bird himself.

“What makes you think you can take care of a pet?”

This startles you and causes him to almost fall off your shoulder. “They’re not hard to take care of, and he’s cute.”

“All animals are cute to you.”

“Not all of them.” You glance over to the lizard section. “And he really likes me.”

“Right. Are you sure it’s not some sales gimmick?” Victor folds his arms over his chest, waiting for your answer.

“I’ve seen him interact with others. He isn’t social but he’s friendly with me.” You reach up to pet him, which he happily accepts. “He’s like a bird version of you.”

Victor lets out an exasperated sigh. “Since you’ve already bought him, let’s take the stuff to my car.” Wow, you didn’t think Victor would be on board with you purchasing a pet this quickly. You decide not to point it out.

On the way to his place, the bird is content with being on your lap. You’ll need to name him since you can’t keep calling him the bird or bird.

“Victor Junior or Vic for short.”

“What are you up to this time?”

“He’s just like you.”

“….”

“So I’m naming him after you.”

“This is ridiculous.”

You stick your tongue out at Victor. Victor Junior copies you, much to your amusement. “Our son isn’t ridiculous, are you?” You coo at the little bird.

“Our son?”

“Fine, my son.”

Victor-Victor-Victor-Victor

Victor Junior has picked up quite a vocabulary during his stay at the pet shop. You can’t help but giggle at his antics. Since you’re spending the night there, you’ve set up his cage once human Victor has brought in his supplies. It’s getting late and Victor Junior looks tired. He’s yawning up a storm. You place him in his cage so he can get some sleep.

Since Victor is a gentleman, he insists you sleep in his guest room. It appears while you’re taking care of the bird, he prepared the guest room for you. Before he takes his leave so you can change, he holds out a small box. Is that a ring box? You open it to find one half of the promise ring set.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

Victor stutters, attempting to deny it and saying that you’re interested in it.

“Now look who’s being silly.” You pull out the ring and slide it onto your finger before giving a surprised Victor a hug. “Does this answer your question?”

His response? He pulls you in for one passionate kiss.

Where the hell did he learn to kiss like that?

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc zen #mlqc MC #birb #otome0heart #mlqcsanta20

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thorne93 · 4 years ago

Text

The Softest Fire (Part 24)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 4262

Warnings: sorrow/fear

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo.

“Pick up the wand, Rosaline,” he softly commanded.

“I… I can’t,” I said uneasily.

“Why not?” he wondered.

“I’m worried I’ll hurt someone.”

“I’m sure I can recover it. Why are you really scared?” he pressed as he stood across the table from me.

“I… I’m afraid that if I pick up my wand, and cast magic, that Grindelwald will find me. That it will send up some sort of beacon,” I confessed. I hadn’t even really confided that in Newt or Nora.

“Even if it does, Grindelwald won’t come anywhere near here. If he does, this place is heavily armored.”

“Like it was when I was here last time?” I slightly challenged, worry in my tone more than anything else. “Professor, I appreciate you trying but there has to be some other way--”

“There isn’t. Rosaline, if you’re going to teach my students, and help me demonstrate the dark arts, I need you to actually do that. If you can’t cast magic or teach magic, then I’m afraid you can’t be my assistant here.”

“I want to be,” I stated, unsure of myself, something I wasn’t used to.

“Then pick up your wand. You can’t face Grindelwald if you never arm yourself.”

“But my magic was the only reason he wanted me in the first place. If I swear off of it, he’ll see I’m useless to him.”

Dumbledore took a deep breath, slightly nodding. “Grindelwald… is not a man to chase down a dead end. You served your purpose to him, and he knows that if he gets you back, that you won’t willingly comply. Then he’ll be left with two options: kill you, or enslave your mind… again.”

I chewed my lip, wondering where he was going with this.

“If he wants you to use your powers, he will force you to do so, whether or not you willingly swear off of them. You might as well get yourself as best prepared as you can, in case he does decide to come back. If I know you like I think I do, then I know you’d rather be your own defender, am I right?”

I nodded, my eyes cast down at the table. “Yes.”

“Then you know what you must do.”

I took a deep breath, my head bobbing as I steeled my nerves. I relaxed my muscles, sharpened my mind, trying to wrap my thoughts around what I was about to do. I had wholeheartedly given up the world of magic, in lieu of anything else. Now, I was forgoing that vow to return to the life I’d turned my back on.

But Dumbledore was right. Grindelwald wanted a war, he wanted a fight, and maybe he would come back for me, maybe not, but handing it over to him without resistance from myself was something I’d never live with. Especially if he tried to take me again. He would never succeed again, not if I could help it.

I reached my hand forward, and my hand curled around the wood, fitting in my palm perfectly. Like a pen to a writer, a microphone to a singer, a bow to a violinist, a paintbrush to an artist -- my wand belonged there.

“Splendid. Let’s begin,” he said with a smile.

------------------------------

Two weeks of vigorous nonstop training and I was nearly back to top performance. I casted spells easily and almost reflexively. I deflected as well as I cast. I was finally beginning like myself again, fully in control, fully in power. I didn’t feel nervous or slow, I didn’t feel as if he could catch me off guard with anything.

Once we got the dueling under control, Dumbledore sat with me for two more days before the start of classes to go over the curriculum. He gave a rather quick overview stating that nearly all days, at some point he would use me as an example, whether it was dueling or a boggart or explaining how some of the curses worked. Very rarely would I find myself sitting in a corner, but in the cases that did happen, I was welcome to answer any questions the students had.

The night before classes, Dumbledore had finished going over the curriculum with me. He let out a breath of air and rubbing his eyes.

“Well it all begins tomorrow, how are you feeling?” he asked, concern on his features.

“I’m… a bit nervous,” I admitted. “I’m also excited, but teaching, I’ve never done that before so.”

“Well the good news is it’s things you aced as a student here, practiced at the Ministry, and just freshened up on.”

“That’s true,” I agreed, nodding gently as I eyed my hands. I had noticed that my confidence since Grindelwald had been chipped at. It was reflected in my posture, voice, and actions.

I hated it.

“Rosaline…” Albus suddenly said, his tone attention catching. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table as he brought his hands to his face. His hands made a ball as they rested against his chin. He was watching me, assessing me.

For the first time, though, I didn’t feel scrutiny or the desire to shift uncomfortably in my chair.

“Do you know why I not only respect you but greatly admire you?” he wondered.

Different thoughts ran through my head quickly, but ultimately I came up blank. “I can’t say that I do, sir, no.”

“It’s because no matter what, despite all the odds, you do what’s right. I have told Next that I admire him because unlike every man I know, he doesn’t seek power.”

A soft smile touched my face as I looked down. “That is both very true of him, and very much not true of me,” I stated with a bit of a laugh.

He nodded his head to one side, his eyebrows raising in agreement. “Well, I won’t say you don’t seek power, but I also do not see you doing whatever it takes to get there. Twice now, you’ve been on the precipice of commanding the wizarding world and you’ve stepped away.”

I didn’t say anything but bobbed my head ever so slightly in agreement.

“Which is why you do what is right no matter the cost. It could’ve ended your career that I know you’ve worked very hard to get, but you didn’t feel you’d be a good leader, a good fit, so you gave it up. You knew deep down Grindelwald and his policies were flawed and you helped us untangle the curses he put on you. You fought the curses from inside yourself. It is that courage and desire to be good that I admire. So tomorrow, if you’re worried, just remember to do what comes naturally. Whenever you find yourself unsure, rest assured that I know you will always make the right choice.”

I smiled up at him, beaming. “Thank you, Dumbledore, that means a lot coming from you.”

“I’m glad,” he responded with an equally kind grin. “Well, we should get to bed, got a big day tomorrow. Early morning and all that.”

“Quite,” I agreed. The two of us stood, left his office, and went to our living quarters, bidding each other good night along the way.

--------------------------

The morning sun woke me the morning I was to start teaching. To say I was nervous would be a bit of an understatement. I’d had people under me at my time at the Ministry, I’d been in charge of students here before as prefect and Head girl, but this was different. I was an employee here now, I was in charge of shaping these young students' minds. I was going to have to be open about my time and experience with the dark arts. Not to mention, some of these kids might ask some nerve wracking questions, questions I wasn’t ready to deal with just yet. It was a lot to think about and worry about on the first day.

I got ready though, trying to repeat the mantra of, “It’s just a first day of class, nothing unusual, nothing to be afraid of,” to myself in the mirror. I wore a cranberry satin blouse with a gray blazer and matching skirt. I curled my light blonde hair and let it fall over my shoulders and down my back.

Just as I was putting on the finishing touches and about to grab my wand, Newt’s owl flew in, dropping an envelope for me. I smiled at him, taking the envelope and petting him as I read the letter.

“Dear Rosaline,

I wish you much good luck on your first day as assistant teacher. I know you’ll do just fine. Much love from all the creatures and myself.

~ Newt”

I smiled widely, filling with warmth as I held the envelope to my chest. I nodded to the owl to let him know he could return to his owner. Newt’s words were all I needed to face the day. I took a deep breath, grabbed my wand, and strutted out of my living quarters at the school towards the classroom. The children were still in the Great Hall as the headmaster gave a quick speech and the heads of the houses handed out the schedules. On my way to the classroom, I ran into Dumbeldore.

“You’re looking particularly chipper,” he remarked with a grin.

“I am chipper. I received a message from Newt today and I think it will be a good start for me, or at least, I hope so. I hope the children don’t… well… fear me,” I admitted with a bit of embarrassment.

“They’ll be delighted to see you, Rosaline. You’re a bit of a legend. I’m sure they’ll see you for more than your involvement with Grindelwald. Look at me. I knew him and the kids barely ever mention it.”

“Yes, but you didn’t run off with him in the midst of an uprising,” I reminded as we ascended the stairs to the classroom.

“Well, we’ll just have to set the record straight, hmm?”

I nodded and we stepped inside the classroom. We got things adjusted, got the desks cleared off, got the extra textbooks stacked, got the syllabi ready to pass out, and just as we finished up, the door opened and the first class of students came in. They were third years, so mostly thirteen year olds.

The students seemed to be busy talking amongst themselves, not noticing me or Dumbledore until nearly all of them were in their seats. Finally, they noticed their professor, and assistant professor.

They suddenly became quiet as their eyes danced between us. I felt like I was suddenly under scrutiny, it made my shoulders come up insecurely before I gently shook my head and squared my shoulders.

“That’s Rosaline Vaughan,” I heard one of them whisper from the second row to their seatmate.

“I heard she worked with Newt Scamander for a while,” another child whispered.

“I hear that she’s the first person to disarm Dumbledore in a duel,” another one said.

Slowly, I realized the students weren't afraid. They were happy to see me. A grin spread on my face.

“Hello, everyone. I’m your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore.” A piece of chalk wrote on the board that stood a bit behind the two of us. “This is my assistant, Rosaline Vaughan. You may refer to her as Ms. Vaughan. This is your syllabi--” the papers floated to each child’s desk “--and please let me know if you need a textbook and we can provide a spare one. As you can see, it’s a fairly straightforward outline. We will begin each week with discussing a subject, such as a boggart, what they are, where they come from, then each Friday, we will practice defeating them. It’s good to understand where dark arts come from, that’s why we will understand the material first, then end with the practice of actually defending ones self from it. After the holiday break, we will focus more on dueling and disarming. With the current wizarding world climate, it’s never too early to learn how to fight off an enemy. But you must remember, what we teach in here is not to be used against other students or staff or faculty. The tools you will learn here are strictly if your life is in imminent danger. Is that understood?”

Everyone nodded firmly as you watched Dumbledore walk and explain.

A child raised his hand.

“Yes, Richard?” Dumbledore asked, pointing to him.

“What’s Ms. Vaughan going to be teaching us, sir? Why are there two of you?” he asked with a thick Liverpool accent.

“I’m glad you asked,” Dumbledore said with a pleased grin. He turned around and looked at me.

After a quick moment, I realized he wanted me to answer the question. I stirred slightly before taking my place in the center of the front while Dumbledore walked back to his desk in the right corner and leaned against it.

“I’m here because some of the spells and hexes and curses we will be teaching you can be extremely intimidating, not to mention difficult for students attempting them for the first time. We felt that it might be best to see a duel, watch as we both do it, explain what we are doing, before subjecting you all to it.” I nodded and smiled before quickly adding, “Now this isn’t to say you won’t get the chance. Not at all. We are simply here as a demonstration, a tutorial, a chance for you to watch before possibly getting hurt. Professor Dumbledore and I will run through duels, challenges, practices, and the like, letting you see how they’re done, and then you can pit yourselves against us. And some days, I may even be the one giving the oral lesson as well.”

I put on a bright smile, trying to hide how nervous I was, hoping that would assuage them.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” He grinned quickly at me and I felt better.

“Now, if that’s all the questions. We will begin our studies. This week’s topic is curses, what are they and how are they different from hexes?” Dumbledore began and he went on with his usual teaching method.

The rest of the day was a breeze. It was relatively the same spiel over and over. Dumbledore introduced the class, myself, and how the class would be structured. Sometimes we got questions on what I was to do, other times the children seemed indifferent.

After the last class, Dumbeldore packed up his things and began speaking to me.

“You did marvelously on your first day. I’m proud of you, Rosaline. The worst part is out of the way.”

“Thank you. I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am. I’ll see you in the dining hall in a bit, hmm?”

“Very well.”

He nodded and smiled at me before leaving.

The rest of the week followed much the same. On Friday you and Dumbledore demonstrated what a handful of hexes do, then I demonstrated how to block them. The students all seemed to accept and like me. None of them mentioned Grindelwald and I wasn’t sure if that was because they had been cautioned against it, didn’t care, or were too afraid to ask. Whatever the reasoning was, I was grateful.

Today was Saturday and I was beyond excited to see Newt. We had arranged to meet at a little restaurant in Hogsmeade.

When lunch time started to approach I left the castle and made my way down to the little village. I went inside the restaurant and spotted Newt sitting alone at a table. My heart swelled as my smile spread quickly.

I dashed over to the table and halfway there, Newt saw me. He stood from his seat and held my chair out for me. I hugged him tightly before sitting down and he joined. A waitress came over and offered us menus before giving us some time to look them over.

I forgot the menu altogether and looked to Newt.

“I’ve missed you,” I breathed, eyeing him as if he were the most valuable treasure on earth.

“And I you. How is it? Tell me everything,” he encouraged with a tiny smile.

“It’s good, really good,” I assured with a soft smile.

“How are the kids? I imagine you were a bit nervous they’d bring up… you know…”

I laughed nervously, adjusting. “Yes, I was a bit worried about that, but thankfully none of them asked. If anything, it’s like that time didn’t exist to them. They mainly asked about the Ministry, a little about my work with you, but mostly they asked things about dueling and such. I just keep telling them they have to wait for their proper lessons in class.” A chuckle came out of me.

“That’s good. I’m so glad. And working with Dumbledore, is it…?” He left the question hanging in the air. He wasn’t sure how to phrase it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask, “Is it everything you dreamed of?” “Is everything you expected?” “Is it to your liking?” “Is it what you wanted?” He was ultimately just trying to root round to see if it’s what you wanted, if it’s what made you happy.

“Dumbledore is great. He worked with me extensively every day on picking my wand back up. He went over the entire coursework with me.”

“That’s good news too. And you’re liking what you’re doing?”

“Yes, it’s... it’s almost like the O.W.L.s but on a different level. Every second I must be on my toes for questions from the students or demonstrations with Dumbledore. It’s fascinating how different each year is at Hogwarts. I forgot how long it took the class to learn blocking spells.”

“The class, but not you. I seem to remember you knowing how to block spells in your second year.”

“Yes, well that was because I read Nora’s books and practically forced her to teach me,” I reminded with a coy grin. “It’s been as educational as it has been rewarding. This first week went by so fast, but I think I’m really going to like it.”

He nodded. “That’s wonderful, Rosaline.”

He had a smile on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a spark missing there and I noticed with some worry.

“Newt? What's the matter?” I asked, craning my head down slightly to see him. He was hanging his head, as he often did, trying to hide his insecure expression.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Well, it’s something but it’s rather silly.”

“Nothing is silly, Newt. Please tell me. You can tell me anything, remember?” I coaxed sweetly.

He seemed to think it over a bit before finally deciding to tell me. “I was only hoping that… Well of course I’m glad that you’re happy, that’s all I ever want, but a small part of me was hoping that maybe… you’d be unhappy or it wouldn’t be all you dreamed and that perhaps… You’d want to come back and work with me.” He chanced a glance up at me and I smiled, but before I could respond in any way, he was talking again. “I’m sorry, that’s selfish of me and I’m glad you’re happy here. I just--”

I reached over and grabbed his hand. “Newt Scamander, don’t ever apologize for wanting to spend time with me,” I asserted. “I think it’s sweet, and I love you for it.” I sighed. “The truth of the matter though is as much as I love working with you, I do love this new job. It’s a fantastic and new experience that challenges me in new ways. I hope you can understand that.”

“I do. I just miss you. I feel as though we have time we should make up for is all.”

“That we do, but I’m hoping these weekend meetings will help with that.”

-----------------------

A few weeks after classes had started, Dumbledore asked me to meet him in his office after our last class. Once the last student was done asking for help and I sent him on his way, I joined him.

“You wanted to see me, Albus?” I asked curiously, stepping inside.

“Yes, I did.” He raised his wand and the door closed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be so mysterious. I just need to keep this quiet. I know you were cursed while you were with Grindelwald, but do you remember anything of your time with him?”

“I remember quite a bit. Not all of it, and some is a bit fuzzy that I’m not sure if it’s real or a nightmare, but yes. Why?”

He took a deep breath, sitting at his desk and putting his fingers to his chin. “Did he ever tell you about our past?”

I shook my head, sitting across from him. “No, why?”

“Did you ever wonder why I didn’t fight him?”

“No, choosing to rebel against him or fight him is your own choice. I don’t question anyone’s reason. Should I?”

A sigh escaped him, he seemed to be wrestling with something. “I think… I think it’s time I told you about our past. Gellert and I were rather close as young children. We went to school here and very long story short, we became closer than brothers. We created a blood pact. That night at the Paris mausoleum, one of Newt’s nifflers must’ve stolen it. He returned it to me just a few days after Grindelwald took you. I’ve been trying to find a way to destroy it, but I don’t think it can be destroyed by the parties that created it. But now that you’re here, I feel you may be my best chance at breaking it. I don’t particularly want to fight him, but I also don’t like the fact that I’m defenseless against him.”

“But it’s a mutual pact, correct? Which means he can’t attack you?” I inquired, trying to provide some hope.

He nodded, his eyebrows going up in agreement. “Yes, that’s true. However, I don’t trust that Grindelwald won’t find a way around it. That’s why I am trusting you to do it.”

“Me? You want me to break the pact? I think I should give it to Nora. She's a better curse breaker--”

“No,” he said firmly, giving me a look that somehow instilled both courage and fear. “No, I need you to do it. I’d rather keep this in house and I think you and I know him better than anyone.”

“I… I was just under a spell, Albus. I don’t know him, at all. I know how he thinks, slightly. I know how he casts spells, but I don’t know his motives or what made him the way he is…” I shook my head, fearing he was trusting me too much.

“Nor do I. But we’ve both spent a great deal of time with him. Like or not, Rosaline, you were his only partner since I’ve ever known him. His reasons weren’t true, and it wasn’t a real romance, but you lied with him in bed, you woke up together, you ate together, you were his right hand, you held meetings for him, you tried to turn people over to his cause. Whether you know it or not, want to accept it or not, you are close to him. He trusted you because he thought you would never break a spell he had on you. He said and did things around you he wouldn’t do with anyone else. But none of that matters. If this was a pure stranger, I would still give the task to you. You always have been the brightest student to grace these halls. You have dedicated yourself to every line of work you’ve ever had and surpassed everyone. I think you’re a better teacher than I am, and you were damned sure a better auror or hit witch than anyone at that Ministry.”

“Albus,” I started, looking down and shaking my head, “I may be talented and smart but--”

“But nothing. I can’t think of anyone better for the job. So please, as a favor for me, as the most innovative and intelligent person I know, please take this pact and find a way to destroy it. I need to be able to help stop him, should the opportunity arise.”

I took the small vial from his hands with trepidation. “I will do my absolute best.”

“I know you will, you always do.”

---------------------------------

Life continued this way for quite some time. I worked all through the week with Dumbledore, taught the children both in and out of the classroom, became close to some other old professors of mine -- it was quite surreal to think that some of the same people who once taught me were now my peers and coworkers.

Then on the weekends Newt normally met me in Hogsmeade for lunch or dinner, and a bit of an outing. Sometimes I visited his flat and his creatures, but my work permitted me to leave less, whereas he could leave the creatures for at least a couple of hours.

All was going swimmingly. It appeared that Nora and Theseus were making a way for themselves and I couldn’t be happier. From Newt’s report they seemed to be falling in quite nicely together.

Although I hadn’t made much headway on the blood pact, everything was looking up to be perfect, until one fateful night proved to turn everything on its head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#the softest fire #newt scamander x ofc #newt scamander x oc #newt scamander fic #newt scamander

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ddaenghoney · 5 years ago

Text

chapter thirteen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): lot of manipulative aspects in conversation.

Word count: 5133

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Jimin finds himself contemplative. Standing motionless outside of the elevator, he looks on at the button to call for it still unlit due to his lack of movement. He’s supposed to hit the downwards facing arrow, earlier intending to work on choreography before the instructor arrived to work on finalization and moving on to the next song’s dance. But he doesn’t click the button, finding himself uncertain if he wanted to do that or follow the teeming sensation in his head to hit the button that would send him upwards.

He sighs, shaking his head and thinking about the ridiculousness of him just standing there. Rather than mull around in his thoughts it’d be more useful to do practically anything else, so he impulsively reaches to click a button. Stepping back, Jimin rubs his jaw, eyes glancing back down the hallway towards Yoongi’s studio.

For a second your simple sentence registers in his ears. A thanking comment that you didn’t have to say, especially considering how lackluster his involvement really was in the situation. Yoongi did more for you, and, had Jimin not spoken up in the midst of his annoyance overflowing out of his mouth, Yoongi likely would’ve said more. He clearly wanted that producer to stop being disrespectful to you.

Jimin falters at the memory, hand trailing to mess around with his hair as he thinks about your avoidance from the area by entrance into Yoongi’s studio. Not having to ask permission, it was simply granted to you, where it’s commonly understood by the majority of employees in the company that Yoongi hasn’t simply become comfortable with everyone to act like that. While he’s definitely polite and civil, there’s undoubtedly a line between himself and the original employees of SoundWave. Meanwhile, you’re an exception to the fact.

He bites his lip, attempting to silence the jealousy that he doesn’t have a right to feel strongly about anymore. Jimin made the choice to create a rift between the two of you, and there’s no sense in him trying to find away back across it anymore. The gap is too foundationally damaged with nothing in sight to fix its stability in a long-lasting way.

He enters the elevator, thoughtlessly clicking a floor number as he steps away from the couple of people also inside. Watching the stories climb, he tries to think about the future comeback he’s working on. There’s still much to record, but with the title track completed and choreography being mastered for it, Jimin finds the date of release running towards him at a speedy pace.

Another album to drop without his creative input poured into it in the way that you and other producers have worked so hard for him and every other artist. His name next to tracks, on the album cover, face in advertisement, and nothing in his heart to solidify the bond between himself and the music. The thought didn’t occur to him so strongly before, but now that he doesn’t see your happiness in showing him songs you’ve created, he can’t find anything exciting about the prospect of release.

Jimin can’t watch you pour emotion onto paper, or listen to the untamed ramblings of you passionately explaining songs given to other artists. He has to corrupt your meaning to come up with his own, behind lyrics he would have never written himself. He wants to scream onto pages with ink in the way you have. The scribbles in notebooks at his apartment and lines saved into his phone’s notes cling to the hope of further work, but wear away in abandonment. They aren’t enough.

Jimin steps out of the elevator, head bowing as Yerin’s secretary notices him. The button he pressed dragged him upwards in another attempt. Like his last visit, Jimin is unannounced, causing the lady greeting him to smile with apprehension of what he wanted. He could’ve succumbed and hid away in the lower basement levels where the dance studios are, but he’s on the top of the building again.

“Is she in?”

It takes a hesitant affirmative and a few more slowly spoken sentences for Jimin to be left standing in front of the secretary’s desk as she pages into the office. He didn’t have a reason to come up here this time. About a week earlier he had the faintest plan of asking permission to work with a producer on a small independent whim. Now he walks into the CEO office without a plan at all, uncertain of what he actually wants if he gives himself a moment to be honest with himself.

“Jimin,” Yerin greets the unassuming man as he carefully shuts the door behind him. Her eyes remain fixed on her computer as she types quickly, eyes unhindered by his presence. “Take a seat, this won’t take me long.”

Jimin does as she says, forgetting to nod his head as a response. He considers the implication of him coming here again so soon, wondering why he felt so impulsively moved to go and speak to Yerin again. The clutter of his head feels entirely unprocessed, but he thinks of you.

Recalling the hurt in your expression when he told you that he can’t accept what you wanted changed in your contract, Jimin sits with his hands meshed together, silently thinking about how he found himself so afraid to tell you that.

He knew completely that you wouldn’t be able to accept him staying beside you with an opposing perspective, because Jimin knows that despite all the crap that SoundWave gives you that you still understand the worth of what you do underneath all of your own insecurity of how to go about getting what you want. He didn’t want to lose you, but in agreement he’d lose everything he had worked for. However, the fact is that in so many ways what Jimin has was built for him. Jimin bites his lip, thinking that beside his own selfishness, he should’ve supported you.

The news of your leave comes to the forefront of Jimin’s mind. Rumors similar to the producer’s indignant comments swarmed the halls since the day of, but all cleared in front of him by your defiant statement that you quit. Splitting from the path you were on to start creating your own, you gave the greatest shock to the company. Even the tiny inklings shoved into the bottom of Jimin’s conscious, didn’t think you’d ever go this far when nothing outside of your choice is clear.

“Now then.” Yerin stops typing, shifting her chair to face Jimin directly as his eyes lift up to her. The person you overcame despite her chilling methodologies keeping the company arranged in perfect order. “What brings you here?”

“Y/N’s quitting.” Jimin’s voice speaks as small as he feels compared to Yerin and you. Obviously she knows this, and it isn’t something he should come from out of nowhere to restate unless looking for an argument, but his head didn’t consider words. Just the fact that there’s a crack where fingertips can reach through layers of deceptively bright veiling curtains.

The very corner of Yerin’s lip slides into a frown, the hand on her desk curling into an arch as the random sentence remains in the air without an addition. She notes an absence of apprehension in Jimin’s eyes as he stares back at her in the way one does after a realization. “She decided not to continue with the company, that’s correct.”

An evident erasure of any spite is removed from her tone, but not the gleam in Yerin’s eyes that Jimin sees through. Knowing she’s already irritated from your situation-- from losing control in the largest hidden piece to SoundWave. She’s good at hiding it to remain mostly poised.

“This means things are going to change.” Knowingly said. Not an observation, a promise. Jimin doesn’t smile, but his expression appears to be uplifted. Yerin’s hand curls more, fingers colliding with her palm, trying to find clairvoyance to study him, but his reaction is opposite of anything she expected to hear from Jimin concerning your leave.

“You’re not upset.” Yerin finds herself speaking the oddness aloud, not realizing so until she closes her mouth following the sentence. Appearing like a dissimilar person to the one she knows, Jimin pauses only for a moment, before air escapes his mouth in the smallest of laughs. Surprised as well.

“I know how much everything here rides on her.” He says, eyes casting down in consideration of everything you’ve accomplished for SoundWave. A gentle smile slips onto his expression, “I’ve been terrified of her getting sick of the crap she gets here.” He doesn’t miss a beat to rephrase himself, just sitting back into his seat while Yerin’s eyes follow his movements through a hardened gaze.

“Because you would never stop telling me how I’d never make it without her doing everything in the background. For years now that’s the only stance you’ve had, no matter how much I expressed how willing I was to do things for myself. It’s just always been you telling me no. That I’m not good enough-- that it’s not worth the risk.”

“It isn’t.” Yerin speaks up, sighing to refrain from clicking her tongue. She rolls her shoulders to sit up properly, speaking fluidly and without tact, “Your purpose here is for singing, dancing-- being the face of the Jimin persona the public want. Your artistry as a producer of any kind isn’t fruitful to take a risk in when you weigh it against people with endowed talent like Y/N and other producers in the company. This isn’t just about you Jimin. At the end of the day, what sells is more important than your desire to try your hand at songwriting.”

“She’s leaving.” Jimin says, words exiting his mouth with an audible grain of discontentment, that alters into rising frustration, “You’ve made it so she has nothing if she were to quit and she still has. You can’t rely on her to keep everything here functioning like it has-- it would only make sense that you change how things are handled and give the artists--” Jimin straightens from his chair, shoulders stiffening as he practically pleads through biting words, “Give me an opportunity to actually do what everyone out there thinks I do.”

Jimin remains still, watching for any reaction of his words, but Yerin only stares in a calmly pensive manner. No irritation of his outspoken demands, not even shock from his voice’s unintentional rise in volume from his emotions. Jimin keeps himself from faltering, thinking its best to remain firm no matter how long she appears to consider his words in silence.

“This isn’t entirely my decision to have the artists from creating their own music. It’s the board’s collective agreement to produce whatever will sell best from experience.” Cool words ease into the room, her fist uncurling so that her index finger can tap the quietest of beats against her desk. Yerin examines Jimin, finding him absent of a response yet. She shrugs a shoulder once, “To be completely honest with you, I’d rather go back to make a new deal with Y/N than give every artist a sudden opportunity at self-production, but she’s set in her ways.”

“She deserves better than what she gets here.” Jimin speaks without hesitation, though a piece of his mind becomes inquisitive as a faint smirk grows on Yerin’s face.

“And you don’t? Your contract ends at the end of the year.” She says, voice more sly than Jimin has ever heard. “Why not just leave at the end of it too?”

Jimin’s eyebrows crease in surprise, staying quiet while he tries to consider what she means. He catches the sound of his heart once and then it stays in his ears, feeling as though he’s done something wrong. He hadn’t considered his disposability. But that’s a factor isn’t it, one that should’ve crossed his mind, and maybe in a normal train of thought it would’ve. In other situations maybe he’s had the warning in the back of his mind that they could simply get rid of him since he’s replaceable. Replaceable. The word repeats with his heart, making Jimin bite on his inner cheek.

“You’re a liability to other companies.” Yerin leans her chin against her hand, watching him boredly. Her expression different from calm, similar to apathetic instead. “Your career is what it is because of how you’ve been marketed, conceptualized, created-- all synthetic.” Her finger continues a tap that’s out of beat from the way Jimin feels his heart, out of sync, creating a disarrayed ambiance. “You aren’t anything without what we make for you, Jimin.”

Her words send Jimin’s memories back, to every other instance of conversation with her privately for the past five years. The insinuations varying in how opaquely they’re depicted, but also equating to the strings attached to his performances on stage. How crafted his public persona is. Yerin’s reminders that he’s the face alone, and all else is because of collaborated work behind the scenes. Telling him again and again, if Y/N leaves his career could shatter right along with it.

“Just because Y/N leaves doesn’t mean we can alter the entirety of how the company operates. That’s like asking for public scrutiny.” She exhales, rolling her shoulders again in a relaxed manner. Jimin’s eyes don’t leave her, too frozen like suffocation. “Maybe if you left together with her, you could’ve made something, but from the looks of things that’s not something I need to be concerned about, or else you would’ve submitted resignation the same day she did.”

Jimin wonders how you were able to walk off without anyone. Under Yerin’s gaze and the tangling of her words, Jimin feels no freer than usual. Then he realizes that what she says is valid. You’re the one with talent. Yerin knows he can’t leave on his own because of that. Nothing on his own, Jimin is just what they’ve made. Like Yerin has always told him.

Making him align with the company’s perspective to keep your desires subdued. Tricked perhaps, but it’s true that a collapse without you is possible. An engrained thought.

Jimin sits back in the chair, eyes glancing from her to a random point in space in front of his legs. There’s no tension in his body, but he feels as though he’s lost.

---

You stretch your legs, sock-clad feet lying atop the opposite armrest. Staring up towards the ceiling, you let a song play through your ears for the fifth time in a row, while your fingers tap softly along to the beat where they rest on the pillow you clutch against your stomach. The airpods aren’t soundproof like the headphones Yoongi uses when editing, so the typing of his fingers on the computer keyboard ring in the back of your mind. You barely notice when the monotonous sound breeches your concentration on the finalized version of the first song you worked on with him, but you find difficulty in ignoring when he starts typing again after abrupt pauses to take curious glances back in your direction.

“You know, I’m not really upset about that producer--he’s always been like that about my job.” You say plainly, unlocking your phone to pause the song, realizing that the comment would result as it does in Yoongi spinning halfway on his chair to better face you. “I kind of figured people would start rumors anyways.”

“Then maybe I’m more annoyed with that guy than you are.” A tiny sheepish curl begins at the corners of his lips, prompting an endeared smile on your own expression as you eventually shrug. “When did you start hearing the conversation?”

“About whenever he called out to Jimin.” You sit upwards on the couch, tossing the small pillow to the table and pulling your legs up to your chest so your chin can situate on your knees. “I thought he was going to notice me, but he looked in the other direction.” A small scoff escapes your lips sounding like a bitter amusement in Yoongi’s ears. Yoongi’s head nods slightly as he stands up to his feet, strolling to sit on the couch where your legs had occupied prior. “You sounded mad-- I would’ve been scared if I was him.”

Yoongi sighs at the memory of his tone, covering his slightly embarrassed smile with his hand as he rubs his face, sinking further back into the couch. You giggle at his reaction, lightly bumping the tip of your foot against his thigh to tease him. “Who wouldn’t? What a way to get information-- trying to get it through me,” He mumbles his words with his bottom lip prominently poking with his words, “In the first place I wasn’t going to let him say whatever about you anyways. Especially not go around saying you got fired.”

“Yeah,” Your eyes glow happily like your expression as you watch him talk. Yoongi shrugs, crossing his arms to keep himself quiet at risk of sounding silly. “Thank you, Yoon. It made me happy to hear you defend me like that, honestly.” You bite your lip to refrain from more laughter as he just shrugs again and purses his lips together in a muted satisfied smile. “Really I am!” You go on thinking his shy disposition is cute, but Yoongi only nods, mumbling in a joking way,

“Yeah, such a genuine way to thank someone.” He knows you’re speaking with sincerity, but he teases in return just concluding that you may try again with a higher-pitched voice to get him to believe you. Yoongi’s head turns to you as you shift on the couch, curiously raising an eyebrow as you simply crawl the pace to him and tug him into a hug,

“Thank you,” The final syllable trails on in a whine, as Yoongi laughs outright in response to your attempt to get him to stop pouting. His arm as well goes to wrap around your waist, unintentionally nudging you beneath the curve of your side prompting you to suddenly jerk. Pulling him back with you, Yoongi’s upper body lands on yours as you make a squeak of shock from being tickling and fall backwards onto the couch. “Don’t tickle me; I’m trying to be nice and thank you.”

“Accident,” He chuckles, adjusting himself into a less awkward angle as your hugging arms around his ribcage tighten warningly as though you attempt to get revenge. “What are you trying to do; wrestle me to apologize, angel?” Yoongi laughs, listening to your abrupt voice dismissing the idea sheepishly. “If we’re trying to replay the nap from the other day then maybe I should set an alarm since you fell asleep instead of waking me up.”

“How dare you call me out.” You can’t help but grin in embarrassment as he laughs, both recalling the hour nap that ran closer to three. “You made me fall asleep too.” Helpless mumbling excuses leave your lips, while Yoongi makes a disapproving whine at the passing of blame. “Also, how come you get to lie on me again? What if I want a pillow?”

“You threw the pillow onto the table.” He says bluntly, flicking his chin in the direction, as his waist wiggles to break free of the hug. You let out a single laugh, having forgotten that fact entirely and feel silly about his reminder. “But fine, since you’re complaining,” Yoongi’s voice trails off, simply taking a grip on either of your shoulders to bring you along with him as he lays his head on the opposite armrest.

Catching up with the altered positions, you feel a blush creeping along your cheeks while Yoongi’s arms lazily encompass your waist, leaving your face hidden from his sight as you situates against his chest. Biting your lip, you try not to think too much about the placement of your hands, but are at a loss of knowing where to put them. As your ears catch the faint melody of his heartbeat, you feel able to relax just the same with the weight of your forearms flattening also on his torso.

“Comfy?” The faint coarseness of Yoongi’s voice sounds mostly relaxed and gentle, but the questioning tone is genuine. You think even a little nervous that he did something wrong, but your head properly nestling against him relieves most of that worry. Evaporating it in entirely as your voice trickles peacefully,

“Yeah, very.” You don’t think he’s serious about taking a nap, considering the later hour of the afternoon and that you both would likely leave for the day soon. Nonetheless, not an ounce of energy in your body gives you the idea of scooting away from him. Too relaxed with in the warmth of Yoongi’s arms and gentle sway of your head rising and lowering from his even breaths, you lie enjoying the moment. Your hands twitch in little movements as indecision in your head goes back and forth, but eventually you ease them around Yoongi’s waist as well. Satisfied with the action as he shifts up only enough for you to hug onto him as he is to you.

“Maybe it’s not something for me to say, but I’m really proud of you for talking back to that guy, angel.” Yoongi admits softly, glancing as you wiggle a little and squeeze your arms tighter around him. Stifling any chuckling, he sees the faintest of rose decorating your complexation, and rubs his hands along your back, smiling as he questions, “What? You were cool.”

“Stop,” You laugh slightly, then sigh, “I was just annoyed. I don’t know.” Your cheek presses against Yoongi as you reconsider your actions, “I didn’t really feel scared or anything though… It felt kind of easy to speak-- defend myself, actually.”

“That’s good.” Yoongi smiles, letting his neck relax so his eyes can find the ceiling while he goes on, “I think you’re a strong person. Even if things are hard for you, you still do what’s best for yourself.”

“Whatever that is.” You mumble, not intending to discredit Yoongi’s words, because they really made you feel better about it all. Still you can’t help wonder about the future when the present seems so mixed up.

“Things will work out.” He replies simply, knowing it’s not a secure comfort. They’re ultimately just words with only what Yoongi knows about you to make up their validity, but in some ways he believes the simpleness is closer to what you would like to hear. Rather than dedicate paragraphs to idealistic scenarios, he supports you in a genuine sentiment enshrouded with the security of holding you in his arms.

Though there are ways for him to help you in a more pressing way. The idea of it is practically rebellious to the structure of his public persona, but the care of it bothers him less in the moment than it did when he rambled his worries to Hoseok. At the forefront of his mind is your situation, but also all of the potential associated with the idea. The small piece of it that could work for both of you even.

“I was thinking a lot lately,” Yoongi draws out the sentence, hesitant of the words due to their likelihood to change the temperment of the moment. But the rumor of you getting fired plays through his head, as well as the other instances of unfair treatment you’ve received. How you’re willing to leave with nothing. You hum for him to continue, your body completely lazed into his own. “If you want to, I want to release those songs we made together.”

There’s a beat of quiet, then you’re breeching away to support yourself on your arms. Looking down at Yoongi in an incredulous calm, your eyes narrow thinking you didn’t hear him correctly. He can’t help but smile up at you, finding your bewildered small frown endearing, but says again, easier now that it’s been said once, “I want to release them. Independently from my brand; just as Yoongi. With your name there too.”

“You’ll,” You stutter, still thrown off from the prospect, and the air in your throat hitching because of mention at your name being put beside something you’ve worked on. “You’ll get in trouble though, Yoon. I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.” You frown, wishing that you could say yes as instantaneously as he probably hoped for you to.

Yoongi’s undeterred by your response, hands running tiny slow streams along your back still to give a moment of calm. “I’ve released stuff independently before, angel. They don’t mind.”

“But they will if my name’s in there.” You swallow thickly, frown growing into more worry as your eyes deflect from his as you think of reprimand that would come his way undoubtedly.

“You’re not renewing your contract. They can’t stop you from doing what you want.” He strays a hand from your back to find your cheek, gently coaxing you to look back towards his eyes. Yoongi notices the evident spike of worry for his career, finding it similar to what he thought of his own career when Hoseok was going through his scandal. Then unwilling to help because of the risk. “Frankly, I don’t really care anymore if this company wants to get mad at me. My last one already stopped me from helping one friend when I could’ve, and I’m not going to let this one do it again.”

For a second you think that Yoongi’s desire to help you out is your fault for always bring your troubles into his life. That you’ve made him feel obligated. But you realize you’ve never indicated that you wanted to release the music. You didn’t join in collaboration with him under the pretense that you could find a way to drop the music into the public-- it was just his offer to give you an outlet when you originally were sad. But it became three songs before either of you realized. Never a discussion of release, and you didn’t expect anything because of a predisposed view you’ve grown used to.

“I want to.” Yoongi tells you softly, his eyes inspecting your expression as you feel a shift from worry into something different. He watches the space below your eyes, thumb brushing along your cheek to collect a tiny tear, and he notices your jaw appears to be clenched like you’re holding back. A faint smile drifts onto his face, “Do you?”

“I,” You try to speak, only becoming conscious of the tears Yoongi’s already aware of when they drip away because of your speech. An obscure mixture of anticipation fights with pessimism about his idea. “I feel like I shouldn’t be allowed to say yes.”

“You can if you want.” Yoongi says, brushing away more of the conflicted tears and catching you against his chest when you huddle back against him. “You don’t have to right now, either though. Just know that if you decide you want to release them, we can.”

“Even if it’ll get you in trouble though, Yoon?” You mumble in a more tamed worry, shifting in belief that maybe you could take a hold of this option that he’s willing extending you.

“Yeah, sweetie. I don’t mind that.” He listens to you groan against his chest, but just rubs your back to soothe any worries. His shoulders startle stiff when you lift your head up once more to look him in the eyes,

“You’re insane. You’re too nice, Yoongi.” Your voice is high like when you tease him or ramble about things you’re surprised about. He just shrugs, head tilting and only offering a smile in return. “You,” Frowning towards him, you wonder shortly why he always has to witness tears escaping your eyes to the point that you can’t even find yourself embarrassed about it. “You make me so happy.”

The shift in your voice to a small whisper leaves Yoongi quiet. Given the context of the conversation the admission is a bit nonsensical, only serving to create flurries in his ribcage. An earlier thought of hoseok’s words replay in his heads about Yoongi being fond of you, and it leaves him a little stunned in reaction to how you appear in his eyes. Yoongi opens his mouth a little to speak but finds no words coming out, silenced further by your curling smile.

“You know that you don’t have to feel like you need to help me, right?” You speak as through searching for doubt, but Yoongi instantly shakes his head. Curtly responding,

“I don’t. I help you because I want to.” More than that, but his mind doesn’t catch a particular word as he watches you rub your eyes from the previous evidence of surprise about his idea. His hands slide from a hug, settling to gently hold onto the sides of your waist, finding himself struck by enamor as you softly laugh.

“I wonder why-”

“I care about you.” Yoongi maintains eye contact as he blurts into your sentence, remaining serene like voice as you drop your hands from your face back to his chest. Looking down you take a moment to consider the intention of his words, unable to ignore the fervent tone despite his low voice. “We’ve gotten really close this year; why wouldn’t I want to help you?”

“Because I act like I need it every other second,” You murmur mostly teasing to which Yoongi rolls his eyes. Not having that thought for even a second. You giggle, reaching your hand to play with his hair and soothe his suddenly sour expression at your joke. “You mean it about wanting to release the songs?”

“Yes.” He nods, humored by the way you stare at him to search for even a hint that he’s unsure.

“You really mean it-”

“Angel,” He sighs, smiling at the singsong voice you ask again with. Squeezing your waist, Yoongi nods his head, “I thought about it a lot before today. I mean it.”

Your lips purse into a line. Knowing full well that Yerin would be angry the second those songs are sent out, you’re still hesitant. Granted the spiteful part of you finds the prospect of irritating her amusing, but not at all at the expense of Yoongi’s reputation within the company or otherwise. But if he’s the one presenting the idea, stating over and over again that he’s okay with it, you’re inclined to acknowledge that he knows what the idea could mean for him. And he’s still willing to do it.

“Okay, then.” Your heart thrums at Yoongi’s eyes widening slightly from your approval, but the quickly expanding smile on his face is hopeful so you succumb to a mirroring it. “Let’s release them.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

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tessariel-aerlinn · 5 years ago

Text

Writing Prompt #2: Bargain

Having a contract with the Scions of Numenor was pretty simple when it came to providing protection services for a merchant trying to get their wares from one place to another. The only rule or rather line that was never to be crossed was the wares could not be illegal. It was late in the night and Tessariel was preparing to head to bed when her linkpearl went off. A heavy sigh passed her lips as her hand moved up to tap the pearl in her ear to hear the voice of the lead of a group sent to help with a shipment coming from Ul’dah to Limsa Lominsa where a ship would take the wares over to Kugane. The tone of the Roegadyn named Sparrow began to relay that there was something unusual about this shipment they were guarding. The merchant had additional guards protecting several large crates where occasionally sounds were heard. Tessariel’s brow rose up while recalling the contract that she had with the merchant that happened to be a Lalafell. They had agreed that nothing illegal was being transported but the words from Sparrow had her instincts telling her to go out there herself.

“Where are you located right now?” Despite the urgency of the matter Tessariel remained calm and was told they were heading to Vesper Bay. “Stall them with something so I can get over there. I just need to grab a few things.”

The call ended there and Tessariel moved to grab her bow then the pack she kept for emergency situations. A copy of the contract was placed into a leather, weatherproofed tube and secured to the pack before she left the office and was out the door without a word to anyone she passed. There wasn’t time for chatting. As much as she detested traveling using the aetherytes she had no choice to make this as quick as possible. Her focus was on the crystal located in Horizon as her eyes closed and the aether began to move around her. A brief flash of light and she was off in the stream of aether that pulled her to the destination she was set on. Her feet were resting on the hard stone street in Horizon and when her eyes opened she looked at the crystal giving off the blue glow she had been all too familiar with. Quickly she moved to the chocobo stable and paid for the quickest bird they had before hurrying off towards Vesper Bay. The ride was uneventful and short considering the two places weren’t far from each other and the chocobo closed the distance faster than she could even with her bardic talents. The reins were handed to the stablehand once she was in Vesper Bay and she thanked him before moving to where one would wait to catch the next ship for Limsa Lominsa.

A few voices were heard that weren’t the ones of her own people. A joke was being told that seemed connected to the shipment but she couldn’t make out the entire joke or the conversation. Instead she moved to where the caravan was seeing the crates along with her employees were waiting. Quietly she moved to where they were and was told the crate to check. They worked on being lookouts for her while she moved around to where she wouldn’t been seen right away. The crate was larger than expected and when she lightly tapped on the side she could hear something move inside. There was a lock on the crate and a few curses were muttered before she began to work on picking the lock. It wasn’t a skill she was necessarily proud of but considering the circumstances she was making a personal exception. A pop of the lock releasing allowed her to remove it but she had to get up to the top. Some quick jumps got her to the top but she could hear some yelling now and her employees with Sparrow leading intercepted the merchant’s guards. The top of the crate was popped open to reveal a few young Miqo’te, lalafells and hyurs. They all had to be around their teenaged years and obviously from poorer families or orphans. Tessariel was visibly upset and hopped off the crate with an arrow ready to loose at the lead guard. She wasn’t going to kill him. A whistle of the arrow moving through the air struck the shoulder of the hired guard and the sound of their fighting had gained the attention of the local Brass Blades.

Soon all parties were surrounded by the Blades and Tessariel set her bow down to show she was cooperative. A few words were exchanged between her and the lead Blade of Vesper Bay. A copy of the contract was produced to show that she and her company weren’t told of the slaves being transported nor would they involve themselves in such a trade. The merchant’s name was on the contract and the guards confirmed they were working for him but tried to deny their knowledge of the contents of the crate. The Blades took the guards to a holding cell nearby and had Tessariel contact the merchant to set up a meeting. She had to make it sound urgent and that a raid had been done on the caravan with his guards being taken out and her own were injured. A few of the Brass Blades dressed in ‘mercenary’ attire with one being a conjurer to ‘heal’ the injured. The ploy worked as the merchant hurried from his comfy home with additional guards flanking him. Sparrow waited beside Tessariel, arms crossed, and stared at the Lalafell. The two highlander guards were ready to draw weapons giving Tessariel reason to speak up first. “I’d recommend calling off your two bodyguards. The caravan is over there and you can see there was an attempt to steal from the locked crate. I was called and you could imagine my surprise to find what was inside...It violates the contract we have or I should say had.”

The Lalafell just smirked and shrugged, “I guess someone thought to put this into my wares thinking they could get away with it. I’m as surprised as you are. I know what our bargain was.”

“Oh? I don’t think you do.” Tessariel gestured casually with her hand and soon the Brass Blades brought out one of the hired guards that was spilling everything due to his age, inexperience and want to have a shorter prison term. The expression of the Lalafell became one of anger and he refused to say anything more. At that point Tessariel moved forward and Sparrow moved to take down the two bodyguards with some help of the others chosen for this job. Short work was made of the two Highlanders and Tessariel snatched the Lalafell by his ear before letting Sparrow pick up him, turn him upside down to shake him so any weapons would fall free. The Brass Blades weren’t too sure about this but Tessariel pointed out a fine printed line in the contract that she could deal with the merchants herself before handing them over to authorities. She wasn’t going to kill him though she was tempted to on principal alone. “Come this way Sparrow. We need to ask him some questions. The Blades are welcome to witness this if they choose.”

It was a walk down to the dock where no boats were for the time being. She had Sparrow dangle the Lalafell over the side where she could drop him but first a rope was tied to the feet and hands. “Now then...Let's play a game. You’re going to tell me who you were selling those children to and just maybe the Sultana will make a special lighter sentence for you. If you don’t cooperate well Sparrow here gets to go fishing with you as bait.”

Sparrow grinned then started to play with the Lalafell yo-yo she now had. The Lalafell just scoffed saying they wouldn’t dare. Tessariel simply shrugged and let Sparrow cast off. The Lalafell was launched off the dock with only the rope keeping him from being tossed too far. When he was pulled back in he was soaking wet and coughing before cursing them. Tessariel wasn’t phased and yawned. Sparrow was about ready to cast him back to the sea when he panicked and started to talk. The Blades weren’t sure how to report this but they wrote down everything before being given the Lalafell to deal with as they deemed fit. Tessariel signed her own testimony leaving a mark that was the seal of the Scions of Numenor before walking off to relay to those she knew in Maelstrom Command what had happened so they could raid the ships for any illegal wares especially the transporting of minors as slaves to their new allies in Kugane. With it all said and done she patted Sparrow’s shoulder as best as she could before addressing the others, “We’re heading home. The cargo here will be taken by the Blades and Limsa Lominsa is now on alert. I’ll be contacting our group that is stationed in Kugane over this incident to see if we can find out who purchases these children. The children will be taken care of in Ul’dah. I’ve taken the funds from this merchant’s payment to fund their stay at the orphanage and will make sure each one is looked over. Those old enough to work have been given a job offer to help get them on their feet. It’s up to them to take the offer or not. For now...Let’s get some rest at the inn in Ul’dah. I’ll take care of the arrangements.”

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

#ffxivwrite2019

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classicdaisycalico · 6 years ago

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Fictober 2018, Prompt 3: “How can I trust you?”

Universe: D&D, Distant Future

*FUN FACT: This is loosely based off of the campaign that my friends and I just started! This scenario was right before our first real combat experience of the campaign, which is why there isn’t any combat in this fic, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless!*

So sat the mismatched party in question: two elves, a gnome, a dragonborn, and a tiefling, in a small but rather empty tea shop a block away from the street festival. A few minutes after receiving their orders, two humans finally walked in and sat down at one of the booths, just two away from the group.

One, a man clad in all black, obviously looked like he did not wish to be here, with a look of disdain as the other, a woman, directed him to his seat. The latter looked completely out of place, as well, wearing a mid-length, form-fitting red dress and matching high heels that looked a tad too formal for such a casual setting. One of the elves, a monk, felt her ears twitch as she heard the mutters and whispers of the two behind her. “Something’s not right. I don’t know what it is, but something’s not right.”

“I’ll say,” the dragonborn lamented. “It’s been 10 minutes, and our tea is still not ready.” He turned to the other elf across from him. “This place has horrendous service.”

“Everyone else is working at the festival today,” the second elf, a bard, replied. “I know everyone at this tea shop. I come here all the time. There’s only one person on staff working here for the afternoon. Everyone else is manning the tent outside.”

As if on cue, the waitress in question walked out from behind one of the doors in the kitchen with a teapot, some cups, and a few spoons, stopping at the booth with the two humans. “Enjoy your tea,” she said to them, nearly shuttling away out of fright.

The woman nodded curtly as she watched Amber leave. “Finally,” she declared, a little too loudly. “I’ve been waiting for ages.”

She snatched the teapot just before the man could reach it, pouring some tea into her own cup. Upon taking a sip, her face contorted into an expression of displeasure. “This tea...it’s disgusting,” she spat. “And the fact that it took 10 minutes to get one pot ready? Such horrible service!”

The dragonborn grimaced. “You said THIS was your favorite tea shop?” he asked the bard, condescendingly.

“Weren’t you listening? I told you, it’s understaffed because of the festival today,” she answered bluntly. “And I am NOT going to just sit here and watch her complain about circumstances that are out of her control.”

She stood up and approached the woman. “Just so you know, she can’t be everywhere at once. So what if she was a little bit late with your tea? They’re low on waitstaff because of the festival.” She eyed the teacup, and impulsively reached for it, taking a sip out of it herself. “And another thing: I think this tea has steeped for a good amount of time, considering that she had 5 other people’s orders to take afterwards.”

The woman’s anger only grew. “And I suppose this makes you some tea connoisseur? Look at the decor. It’s all kinds of tacky, and the state of these booths is deplorable. Maggots would thrive here!”

“HEY. Take it easy.” The bard’s eyes narrowed. “It may not be up to your 5-star standard, but this tea shop has been through a lot to stay here ever since it first opened.”

She smirked. “Amazing that it stayed for so long, then,” she said. “Hopefully it won’t be around for much longer, given the rabble that frequent it so often. If the tea here is cheap quality, then their customers must be, too.”

That set off the monk immediately. “Now listen--”

“Sit down,” the bard cautioned. “I can handle this.”

As the monk sat, seething with quiet resentment, the bard turned back to the woman, not once phased by her cutting words, instead letting a smirk make its way across her face. “Bold words, from someone who looks like the kind of pretentious rich folk who slum it just for fun.”

That did it. The woman’s face instantly turned bright red with embarrassment. “Well, I NEVER!” She proceeded to stutter a little bit more, before she finally decided to sit down. “Never mind. JASSU!”

The man across from the woman nearly lost his grip of the teapot in his hands. “Yes, Ophelia?”

“We’re done here. We’re taking our business elsewhere.”

The dragonborn’s ears perked up. “Business? What sort of business were you attending to?”

Hearing this question, Ophelia smiled. Standing up, she slowly walked over to where the monk and the others were sitting. “Jassu and I work for O-Tech,” she answered coolly.

The gnome raised an eyebrow. “What’s O-Tech?”

She faced the gnome with an expression that almost feigned shock. “Oh, you haven’t heard?”

“It’s a company that manufactures defense weapons,” the tiefling answered curtly. “Quarterstaffs, mace, swords, bows and arrows...you name it, they make it.”

“Exactly,” the woman answered, not wanting to look taken aback by the tiefling. “The company owns a stone quarry down in Frizon, about an hour from here by shuttle. We had a tent of our own down at the street festival, but we haven’t recruited any employees to inspect the quarry yet.” She sat down next to where the gnome was sitting. “Perhaps you would be interested in such a job?”

The monk shrugged. “I have no earnings on my person, anyway. Obviously I’ll need a few to make my way through a bustling city like this one.”

“Shouldn’t you already have employees doing that, anyway?” the dragonborn inquired, clearly suspicious of the woman in front of him. “What happened to the old ones?”

She paused for a moment, and then spoke again. “We had to lay off quite a few of our staff. On top of that, there were some...undesirables inhabiting our land, so we had to find a way to make them leave, too.”

“Undesirables? That sounds like eviction.” The bard folded her arms across her chest. “How can I trust you?”

“Oh no, it’s not that at all!” Ophelia laughed, almost nervously. “It’s not that so much as a...relocation program of sorts. We even assist them in finding affordable options. We even have a fund set aside aside to help them secure housing in these places.”

She took out five sheets of paper and set them in front of each party member. “I happen to have a few contracts on hand. If you wish to take the job, please fill them out accordingly. We leave for the quarry tomorrow at 8:30 sharp. You’ll each start out with a starting bonus of 20 platinum for filling out the contract.”

The gnome’s jaw almost dropped, as did the monk’s. “Seriously?”

The dragonborn smirked. “I can get behind this.”

“I don’t want your money.”

Ophelia turned towards the tiefling. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“You heard me,” she answered. “I don’t want your money.”

Clearly unsettled, the woman counteroffered. “You don’t have to,” she said. “Of course, we won’t be liable for any damage you’ve caused to yourself, the quarry, and everyone else in it.”

“Fine.” The tiefling shoved the piece of paper back in Ophelia’s direction. “Then I won’t accept your offer.”

She walked up, slapped a few gold pieces onto the table, and walked out of the shop. After watching her leave, Ophelia turned back slowly to the remaining four. “Are the rest of you in, then?”

They looked up at her for a brief moment before they all proceeded to read through the contracts, and eventually sign at the bottom. One by one, they handed her their paperwork: the wood-elf monk, the dragonborn fighter, the gnome druid, and, after a few seconds extra, the high-elf bard. A toothy grin spread across Ophelia’s face as she handed each of them a pouch with 20 platinum pieces inside. “Tomorrow at 8:30 sharp,” she said as she rose alongside Jassu to leave the tea shop. “I trust you’ll be ready then.”

#melissa writes #fictober18 #dnd #also this is the first time i ever wrote a fic based around dnd before #so there's that. lmao

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leo-n-ox-mutable · 7 years ago

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Elaborate info regarding the sequel (Western pt.2)

Libra was mainly a judge of war trials, almost any trial he took resulted in innocent judgement and it took whatever means to forgive the sins. However, such inconvenience cannot be continued, and he was sued himself in his fifth year as Supreme Judge. He became a war criminal under “court contemp crimes”. The perpetrators who were innocent also failed to overlook his extreme attitude. He carried a balance as a symbol and a huge weight as a weapon, but it was a failure: It is heavy. He was taken as witness to the peace negotiation, and died together with Friend Sheep while she was wearing his body(not corpse) and dashed “like a hot water”. Monkey theorizes that there may have been a risk that the damage in synchronized in the simulated person during Friend Sheep’s mimicry. It is also suggested that, if you can’t imitate what you haven’t killed beforehand, then Baron Sue would have been killed by his colleague as a cornerstone of this negotiation(holy fuck). Although he died without a highlightng point, it can be said that he contributed to the great war more than Dandy Lion(ouch) because he useful for carrying out the operation of contacting the Tatsumi brothers who broke off the main part.

Scorpio is an unspecified war criminal, a legendary assassin suspected of not even being real. Although the offense is unknow, it’s said that it is impossible even for the wish of the great war, even if it is not pardonable. Surprisingly, he seems to be full of intonation as if written in circles, a lot of voice quality. He has no obsession with his own life. While aiming at Boar while diving on the ground, only the battle suit it self is released from the ground and distorted Boar. Futhermore, he himself, naked, tries to attack Boar from the back, but she already anticipated the pinch and shot him down. Boar assumes it to be a pincer attack of two people, Skull Pyon and Muppet Bottle, with Skull Pyon(actually his suit) on her front and Muppet Bottle on her back, so that the real Mupper Bottle can approach her intact from another direction.

Sagittarius(my baby) was the employee of a military industry that publicly disclose confidential data from the industry to the world to cause a rampant. Instead of eradicating the corrupt military, the weapons design and instruction manual also spread, resulting in the death on 10 million people. He is a war criminal under “leakage of confidentiality“. Because of that, he uses a bow and arrow instead of modern weapons and acquired “shooting of shooting” with extraordinary training. He dies when Chicken’s birds throw him of a cliff. At the end of the day, he’s scattered with a large amount of feathers in his mouth, skewered by sharp pointed reefs. bitch

Capricorn’s pregnant mother died when she was bombarded by antipersonnel landmines. They had a fierce birth connected by illegal and ameliorating medical technology. She fears to walk directly on the ground due to this “pregnancy” and live in a wheelchair. Since the mother was dead and the father nowhere, she was repeatedly sold, bought and depressed in various countries. Has aversion for war acts done without discipline everywhere in the world. After a certain mad scientist bought her to “remove all mines from the world” she aims to create a super strong mine. She is a war criminal under “illegal weapons possession”. Every human being blows away, landmines and wars are gone and everything is over. Even though she survives to the end of the great war, she chooses "her own death" as planned.

Aquarius longed for the Twelve Warriors to be told as heroes of the battlefield and was hoping to fight one at the risk of his own life. Since his hometown was a non-combatant zone based on political space, he could not get this opportunity. He repeatedly used of arson to make others think of an enemy attack and then erased it on his own. He began seeking larger fires, until he burned down his whole hometown. He then broke the dam to conceal the failure and submerged the whole area in water. However, at the end of the war, the victorious country exposed his wrongdoings and he’s now a criminal under “arson”. He has the ability to manipulated liquids at will and serves as support on the rear guard for other criminals. After the above mentioned sacrifice of Skull Pyon, he released an inescapable work of evaporating Boar’s blood, but Boar had a sacrifice made by Monkey before her death, and because she was given a guard who did not know about any liquid-related attacks, Muppet Bottle’s attack failed. He was then shot down by Boar after she rebuilt her position.

Pisces had been a spectacle in medical care at the camp ever since she was a child. She married the director of the camp and escaped by poisoning the groom and the whole family. After that, she served on field hospitals under a different identity. Eventually it was revealed illegal human experiments done by the back, and she became a criminal under “doctor law violation”. Even though she survives to the end of the great war, she chooses "her own death" as planned.

#Juuni Taisen #juuni taisen vs juuni taisen #juni taisen #Juni Taisen VS Juni Taisen #juuni taisen spoilers

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imjustthemechanic · 7 years ago

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The Stone Knight

Part 1/? - Two Statues Part 2/? - A Curious Interview Part 3/? - John Doe Part 4/? - Escape Attempt Part 5/? - Making the News Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - More Impossible Part 8/? - The Shield Thieves Part 9/? - Reality Sinks In Part 10/? - Preparing a Quest Part 11/? - The Marvelous History of Sir Stephen Part 12/? - Uninvited Guests Part 13/? - So That’s What It Does Part 14/? - The What and the Where Part 15/? - Gearing Up Part 16/? - Just Passing Through Part 17/? - Dinner with Druids Part 18/? - Kracness Henge Part 19/? - A Task Interrupted Part 20/? - The Red Death Part 21/? - Aphelion Part 22/? - The Stone Giants Part 23/? - Nat the Giant Killer Part 24/? - An Interrogation Part 25/? - Guilt Part 26/? - Rushman’s Brilliant Idea Part 27/? - Hunter in Hiding Part 28/? - Ridiculous Part 29/? - The Guy from Barton Part 30/? - Sherwood Forest Part 31/? - Buckeye’s Fall Part 32/? - Robin Hood Part 33/? - Fantasies and Consequences Part 34/? - Swords of Damocles Part 35/? - The Road to London Part 36/? - View from the Top Part 37/? - Storming the Castle

Don’t try this at home.

Shortly after midnight, the group packed up their equipment as if they were hikers, and set out for the Tower. They took a taxi to Southwark, but had it drop them off at the Jubilee Gardens so the driver wouldn’t be able to say he took them to the Tower. From there it was a forty-minute walk to the Tower Bridge, but they made it there in respectable anonymity. People in London were used to backpackers and travelers, and nobody took them for anything else.

They crossed the Bridge, stopping at the North Tower, where the visitor’s entrance was. This was closed for the evening, but Nat slipped around to the opposite side where there was an employee entrance and access to the hydraulic machinery that raised and lowered the bridge deck. There she picked the lock on the door, and waved to Allen to join her. Together, they began climbing a flight of metal stairs that led up to the observation decks.

“You said if you guys get caught, you just carry on,” Allen said. “What happens if I get caught?”

“Pretend you were in the bathroom or something when the place shut down, and you’ve been waiting for somebody to find you,” Nat suggested.

“Then they’ll throw me out,” he said. “What’ll that mean for you guys?”

“It’ll mean we carry on as best we can,” Nat told him. “Like I said, the most important job is getting the Grail out. If anything happens to you, text me, and then go back to the hostel and wait for us. We’ll come back for you if we can, and if we can’t, I’ll try to find an opportunity to let you know.”

They reached the top, and Nat picked another lock to get them into the visitors’ area. The overhead walkways had exhibits on the history of London and the construction and working of the bridge. The interior lights had been turned off for the night, but the exterior ones were shining brightly, providing plenty of light for Nat to disarm an emergency exit and get them out to the exterior catwalk.

“It’s cold out here!” Allen protested.

“Yes, but if you’re indoors you’ll have glare off the windows, and you’ll have fewer options to change position if you need a different angle,” Nat pointed out. She found a place with a good view of the Tower grounds, and waved him over. “If you need to hide, you can crouch in one of the shadowy spots around the stonework,” she said. “If a guard comes along, pretend you got locked out.”

Allen nodded. He hung the binoculars she’d given him around his neck and checked the buckle with shaking hands.

“Are you okay?” asked Nat.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, uh… you said you’d come back for me if you can. What are the odds of that, do you think? Even if you do get the Grail, you might not be able to stop for me.”

That was true – she didn’t want to leave him stranded. “Let me give you a credit card number,” she said, opening her wallet to fish out the card she’d written it down on, but Allen reached out to stop her. She looked up at him, puzzled. “What?” she asked.

“Can I be a silly old man for a moment?” he asked.

“Uh… sure?” said Nat uncertainly.

He pulled her in and hugged her.

Natasha couldn’t remember ever having a hug like the one he now gave her. Sharon had hugged her on Flotta, but that had been gentle sympathy. Allen clung to her as if he feared somebody would come and drag her out of his arms, as if she were the most precious thing he could possibly imagine. Nobody had ever loved Nat enough to hold her like that. Sometimes she doubted anybody had ever loved her at all. Even now, Allen Rushman only loved her because of a lie.

But this was what he needed right now – some semblance of the daughter he’d come to see. She let her purse drop and put her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

“I love you, Ginger Snap,” he murmured.

Nat swallowed hard. “I love you, too, Dad,” she said, because that was what he needed to hear.

“Have fun storming the castle,” he said, without letting go.

She knew exactly what the reply to that needed to be. “You think it’ll work?”

“It’d take a miracle,” said Allen, and kissed her cheek.

Natasha kept her head down as they finally parted, and didn’t look back as she went back inside to descend to the street level. What she’d just done had doubtless made Allen Rushman feel better, but Nat was already regretting it deeply, and she didn’t even know why. It couldn’t just be that she’d lied to him, because he knew perfectly well that she was lying. He’d asked for an indulgence, something to make him feel a little more able to cope with the lonely vigil ahead of him, and she’d given it to him. Surely that wasn’t a moral problem, and even if it were, the fact that they were saving the world ought to placate Natasha’s misdirected conscience.

Maybe it was the fear that after they came back for him – assuming they were able to – he might expect her to continue the charade. Maybe it was the fear that they wouldn’t be able to come back for him, and the last thing she’d ever said to him would be a lie. Maybe it was just that she didn’t actually want or need a father.

What she did know was that she couldn’t allow it to prey on her mind right now. She had to focus. That was a good alternate way of dealing with ugly truths – you could always just ignore them.

“Everybody ready?” she asked, when she re-joined the others at the bottom.

There were general sounds of agreement, so they got started.

Below the Tower Bridge, they scaled the outer wall of the castle. Even this late at night there was vehicle and foot traffic on the streets of London, but the gap between the highway and the building hid them effectively, and they climbed unseen to the crenellated top of the Develin Tower. From there they got to the roof of the Workshops as planned, and crouched there to take stock of the next set of obstacles. Directly below them was a cobblestone street in front of the buildings, and beyond that a narrow lawn, with the ruins of the Wardrobe Tower and the foundation of the Roman Wall of Londinium visible in it. Displayed in various places was an art exhibit – life-sized sculptures of animals made out of layers and layers of chicken wire. Most of these were ordinary animals such as bears, lions, and a gorilla, but there was also a sabre-toothed tiger and a beautifully sinuous Chinese dragon.

In the middle was the White Tower, with the Chapel Apse almost directly in front of them. They couldn’t go in that way, though – the entrance was around the other side of the building, and as Natasha had expected, the place was well-guarded at night. The decorative Yeomen were gone, and in their place were proper armed security guards in bullet-proof vests. Natasha counted them as they made their rounds, then nodded to Robin Hood.

He stood up, fitted an arrow to his bow, and released it with a soft thwock of recoiling wood and a whistle of wind over the fletching. For a moment Natasha was sure he’d aimed too high, but then gravity took over, and the missile’s arching path took it right through a window in the Royal Mint on the far side of the Tower complex. An alarm began to blare.

Nat smiled as the guards moved in response, some taking up cover positions while others ran to investigate the disturbance. She hadn’t been able to shoot first on Flotta because the sound of gunshots would have given away their position, but they didn’t have that problem now – arrows were all but silent.

“Bullseye!” Nat whispered, giving Robin a thumbs-up.

“I told you, I’m the best,” he whispered back.

In Nat’s pocket, her phone vibrated. Allen was letting her know what he could see.

One of the guards, a woman, took up position almost directly beneath their hiding place, with a gun in her hands. Robin nocked another arrow, but Nat held up a hand to stop him, and somersaulted down, landing like a cat directly behind the guard. Before the other woman knew what was happening, Nat had a hand over her mouth and took the gun from her, then hit her behind the ear with it. She’d knocked Robin Hood out the other day because she’d hit him where she hadn’t meant to. Now she hit the guard exactly where she meant to, and lowered her unconscious body gently to the cobblestones.

Nat motioned to the others, and they dropped a rope and slid down it one by one. Together, they scurried across the cobbled courtyard to hide among the ruins of the Wardrobe Tower, where they crouched while another guard passed by. This one noticed his fallen colleague and ran to check on her. Finding her unconscious, he called for help.

Crouching among the chicken-wire lions and in the shadow of the Chapel apse, the group of intruders went unnoticed while the guards held a brief conversation and then split up and spread out to look around. Another distraction was now necessary. Nat signaled to Robin, who quickly stood up, loosed an arrow, and crouched down again in one smooth, swift motion that required only seconds. Again, the arrow arced up before coming back down, using gravity to accelerate it right through a window in the corner of the Waterloo Block. Another alarm began to ring, and the guards changed their plans at once. The man who’d found the unconscious one dragged her into the Workshop building, while the rest ran for the location of the alarm.

The Jewel House was in the Waterloo Block. The guards thought somebody was trying to steal the Crown Jewels.

With all attention now focused there, Natasha and the rest slipped around the other side of the building, to where a flight of modern metal stairs led up to the original entrance at the second storey level. Sure enough, there was a contractor’s lock on the door. She opened that easily and got out the key. Once they were inside, a security system began beeping to let them know they had only a few seconds to deactivate it before it summoned the police. Nat deftly took it apart and shut it down with time to spare.

“You know, even if we hadn’t already committed thirty-one crimes this week, after seeing you do that I might have to arrest you on general principle,” Sharon observed.

“I’d like to see a jail cell that could hold me,” said Nat.

“Good point,” Sharon nodded.

“Thirty-one?” asked Sam. “That’s very specific.”

“I’ve been counting,” Sharon told him.

Nat shut the door behind them and let it lock. When the guards realized there was nobody in the Jewel House and resumed their search, they’d be unlikely to notice it had ever been opened and would have to unlock it themselves in order to search the building.

The main hall of the White Tower was where the Royal Armories were, a museum displaying medieval and modern armor and weaponry. Much of this had been moved into another part of the Tower so the public could still visit it during the restoration work, but other objects had been left behind, in their display cases or with cloths draped over them. Everybody passed those by and went down the stairs to the basement.

This was not lit, so Nat turned on her LED flashlight and looked around. When the Tower was open, this part displayed instruments of torture, but now these macabre displays too were packed away and covered with drop cloths. The walls here were stone and mortar with no plaster on them, probably not so much because it was historically accurate than simply to enhance the impression of being in a dungeon. The ceilings were barrel-vaulted to take the weight of the masonry above. After several weeks without visitors, a layer of dust had accumulated on the horizontal surfaces.

At the end of the small hall was the basement of the chapel. This had the same shape as the room above it – a long rectangle with a semi-circle apse at one end. There was only one tiny window high in the far wall, but that let in a surprisingly bright stream of light from a lamp just outside it. The floor was simple stone tiles, uncovered by early restoration work in the eighteenth century. Thank heavens they hadn’t dug any deeper.

The archaeologist in Nat was absolutely appalled by what she was now thinking. That stone floor had been there for a thousand years. Digging it up was like walking into the Museum of Natural History in New York and pushing over the Aztec Calendar Stone to let it smash on the floor. Was Natasha, who’d chosen a profession dedicated to preserving and learning from the past, really going to be the one who did this terrible thing?

Yes. Yes, she was. Somebody had to.

Sam took off his backpack and unzipped it to start taking tools out. “Where do we dig first?” he asked.

“Directly under the altar, I think,” said Nat. That would be the most holy place in a chapel. “But put up the wards first – you guys do that, while I do this.” She got a digital camera out of her bag, turned the flash off and the shutter speed way down, and began taking pictures.

“What are you doing?” asked Robin.

“I am documenting the initial condition of the site,” Nat replied. “Because I’m a god-damned archaeologist.”

#fanfic #natasha romanov #black widow #steve rogers #captain america #sam wilson #falcon #sharon carter #agent 13 #clint barton #hawkeye

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read-write-cullen-blog · 7 years ago

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Warrior’s Eyes Ch. 1

Word Count: 2,008

Author’s Note: This is just the first chapter of what is intended to be a much larger series, and it is also available on Wattpad. This hasn’t been very seriously edited, so constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated.

Prompt: There’s a rather rowdy newcomer in Skyhold, and her name is Rosalie Sullivan. The runaway daughter of a Fereldan Arl is anything but filtered and sophisticated, but the Inquisition finds a way to put her knowledge of royalty and natural charm to good use.

Wild, raw, and witty, she is the exact opposite of Cullen, but he just can’t get her out of his head. Will the Commander let loose and submit to her charms?

She showed up on the drawbridge of Skyhold, escorting a caravan that had gotten lost, and dragging the leader of the raider band that had tried to attack them behind her. He wasn't dead, unlike his employees, but he might as well have been going in front of the maker with the way he was acting.

"Maker preserve me! Shield me from this torture I will endure in your name, condemn the barbarians who harm me!" He pleaded up to the sky. Rosalie stopped and gave him a swift kick to the side, shutting him up.

"There's no maker that can make me forget what you've done, Orlesian." She spat at him. His accent was giving her a headache. While she had meant to permanently silence him, the overgrown baby just started sobbing. She was glad that she was on the bridge, as soldiers were running out to meet her as soon as she was spotted.

"State your business, stranger." One of them said, his voice sounding stoic. She gave him a lazy smile.

"Escorting this caravan here. I saved them from a bunch of bandits, and decided I wanted to see the cloud castle they were going on about." She gestured back to the finely dressed woman at the front of the carriage, who had proved to be the only Orlesian that Rosalie could stand. "She said somethin' about silks for a Josephine lady." And the lady on the carriage nodded. A soldier by the gate ran into the castle at the confirmation.

One of the soldiers took the bandit leader off to the prison, presumably, and the other grabbed her arm. She tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong.

"What the hell are you holding on to me for!" She demanded. Of all the things that she could have gone to prison for in her life, she was not going to let saving a caravan be her downfall.

"A man already went up to inform the commander of your arrival. I will be taking you up to him so that he can decide wether you would be an asset to the Inquisition or not." He reported, and Rosalie scoffed.

"I thought you guys needed as many people as you could get!" She said, now letting him take her inside, and then up an impossibility long staircase.

"If you haven't noticed, were much larger than we used to be." He smirked. Rosalie took note of that. Even a common soldier here took pride in the Inquisition. Took pride in it's mission. Not many armies had soldiers that dedicated.

Finally, the soldier opened the door for her, revealing two men. One dressed in full armor, and the other in what seemed to be green loungewear.

"So this is her." The one in green spoke, a hint of admiration in his voice. Rosalie smiled and waved with her free hand.

"Rosalie Sullivan, at your service." She would have done a mock bow, but the man next to her had not released his death grip on her arm.

"Sullivan? As in Arl Hawthorne Sullivan? Your family helped overthrow the Howe's?" Max said, dumbfounded. Rosalie nodded in confirmation, not telling him why she had left her cushy life to wander. He seemed too well versed in nobility to trust for the time being.

"How did you come across the caravan you protected." Said the other one, getting down to business.

"Well, there is a tiny, tiny village not far from here, and I'm a wanderer. I found it about two months ago, and stayed when they told me about their problems with bandits. I was hunting them down today, and found them attacking the caravan. So, I took them all out. Except for the leader." She said, trying to sound professional, but her light Fereldan accent stopped nearly anything she said from sounding professional. The man in green seemed amused.

"I'm Maxim Trevelyan, leader of the Inquisition. You can call me Max, though."

"And I'm Commander Cullen Rutherford. Normally if you could stay or not would go to a vote between the advisors, but it seems that the Inquisitor here has already decided that you can stay." Cullen seemed like he was trying to keep his composure, but the screams of the Orlesian bandit leader could be heard even from the tower. Rosalie giggled.

"He's the most dramatic Orlesian I've ever beat up." She laughed, and Max laughed with her. Rosalie was sure that she heard a chuckle or two out of the Commander as well. Cullen scratched the back of his neck before addressing the soldier that was, for some reason, still holding her arm.

"You are dismissed. I will show the Lady to her quarters." Cullen ordered, and the man behind her saluted before marching out.

"Ooh, quarters, that sounds fancy." She said in a high voice, and Maxim nodded.

"A few of these towers are not being used right now, but most are not in any condition to be slept in. Most have holes in the ceiling. You may have to stay in the tavern for a day or two before we can move you into one." Max said, before leaving suddenly. To Rosalie, the way that the Inquisitor made such big decisions on impulse and moved on so quickly was a bit unsettling.

"Well, he just has it all figured out, doesn't he?" Rosalie laughed, trying to make conversation with the commander. Who she stood facing as he picked up something from his desk.

"I think he's used to making such big decisions, that this didn't seem like much of a big deal to him. The fact that he gave you your own quarters, though. That's somewhat surprising. Don't be alarmed if he has you go out on expeditions with him." Rosalie nodded at what he said.

"Any more tips for a newcomer here?" She asked, genuinely curious. When it came to new castles one always had to be wary of the different standards set there. It was something that she learned, growing up as the daughter of an Arl.

"Don't let Sera try and tell you anything about a mandatory initiation. It isn't real, and it's most likely very humiliating." He said with a slight scowl on his face. Rosalie already had a glimmer of respect for Sera.

"Well, I'll be off then. I can find the tavern on my own." Rosalie waved as she left, taking the door to the right, and continuing until she found a set of stairs down. Just by walking along the Battlements for about seventy feet, she could already tell that Skyhold would be as regal as it was large. When she finally made her way down the stairs, she was met by a large wooden building with loud chattering and music coming from inside. She wasn't an investigator, but something told her that it was probably the tavern.

As the windswept looking blonde opened the door and walked in, she was greeted by drunken soldiers and a rather large Qunari man, whom she almost walked into.

" 'Scuse me." She said, trying to maneuver around his wide build, but he faced her, leaving her to feel a bit trapped.

"And who might you be, little lady." He flirted, and Rosalie rolled her eyes.

"The last time a man was this close to me, he had an arrow through his head within the hour." She threatened, and he took a step back. As a woman traveling alone in Thedas, Rosalie found that threats of violence turned men away faster than a simple "No."

"Ha! Come off your high horse, Bull! Not every woman in Skyhold falls at your feet!" A curvy elf woman bellowed, clapping him on his bare back. Rosalie was sure that she heard him mutter something about a specific man, but she brushed it off.

"I'm Rosalie, if it means that much to you. Jus' arrived, actually. The Inquisitor said something about staying in the tavern for a bit before a real room was ready." She introduced herself to the woman.

"What'd you do to grab Maxie's attention?" She inquired, and Rosalie smirked just thinking about it.

"I saved one of his caravans, and dragged in a screaming bandit leader by his pants." She laughed, and the woman laughed with her.

"I'm Sera, by the way, and the giant over here is The Iron Bull. We do missions and stuff of the sort with the Inquisitor." It seemed like she was bragging, but it was hard to tell.

"Oh, yeah! Cullen told me about you." Rosalie said, and Bull grabbed a full mug off the counter and handed it to her before she could politely decline.

"Aw! What did Commander Cully have to say about me this time!" Sera said in a high voice.

"Not to let you "initiate" me." Rosalie took a swig from her jug, and nearly choked to death it burned her throat so bad. Sera pouted at the news, and Bull patted Rosalie on her back.

"First drink's the hardest. Always is." He said like he had given it to people hundreds of times. The potency of the drink had surprised her, though, as Rosalie was certainly no stranger to alcohol. He was right, though. With her second drink, it barely hurt going down. Probably because all of the nerves in her throat were already dead from the first one. She was already feeling the effects of the alcohol when Max burst through the tavern door.

"Rosalie!" He called to her, and she walked over to him. He nearly forgot everything he was about to tell her and almost die of laughter as he caught the smell of Iron Bull's signature mix on her person.

"Yes, Inquisi-Max?" She slurred, not caring that she had managed to get drunk within her first two hours at Skyhold. While Max thought it was impressive, it definitely wasn't a record.

"Well, since my people are incredibly on top of things, you have your room. I'll show you to it, but only if you agree to meet with Josephine tomorrow. She is quite eager to meet you." He said, leading Rosalie out of the tavern and yet again up the nuisance that the people of Skyhold called stairs.

"I'll meet with this Josephine as long as I don't have to wear anything nice. I hate frilly dresses." Rosalie confessed, somehow still seeming a bit poised in her drunkenness.

"Then I'm afraid you won't enjoy her wardrobe much." Max opened the door for Rosalie to reveal a large room with an ornate canopy bed in the corner, a large desk on the opposite wall, and a chair and a few bookcases by the single window. Rosalie nearly tripped on the detailed carpet in the middle of the floor, but kept her balance.

"I barely had two drinks." Rosalie plopped down on her bed, looking confused. Max laughed, immediately knowing what it was.

"Bull must like you, he didn't give me a sip of that stuff until I had killed a dragon with him." Max chuckled as he made his way out of her room. Rosalie had a large personality, and he was sure that in just a few days, the rest of Skyhold would know that, too.

•

Josephine sat at her desk, completely ignoring the paperwork stacked in front of her. According to the Inquisitor, they had just accepted Rosalie Sullivan into the castle. Her family ruled over the rather new town of Cronolea. It was an area almost on the border of Ferelden that people had been living in for ages, but only recently had King Alistair recognized it as its own city, and gave it an Arl. If the rumors she had heard of the girl before she ran away were true, she suspected that Rosalie could be an asset to her negotiations.

But based off of what the Inquisitor had told her, it seemed like Rosalie would need to brush up on her manners before Josephine would let her help at all.

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onceuponanolicity · 7 years ago

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This third chapter goes with the latest Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon prompt: Pride.

Pride is something you take great pleasure in. It was something Oliver Queen was allowed to revel in. A being who took selfish pleasure in everything he did.

The Hood was the ultimate contrast of him. There was no pleasure to be found in the taking of a life. None to be found in the darkest parts of the night chasing down the dirtiest of criminals Starling City had ever seen. The ones who masked their dealings as easily as Oliver masked his face under Shado’s hood.

It was that mask which had slipped when he kissed Felicity Smoak in the elevator of Queen Consolidated. What was it about this particular woman that made him lose track of which side of himself he was supposed to be projecting to the world? It was as if she took both of his masks off and revealed this inner being within himself that he had almost forgotten existed. A being that was both and neither man at the same time.

Cursing, Oliver stormed through the side door of the foundry, entering the lair he had made under the club he was building. You’d have thought he would have learned to keep away from romantic entanglements after his disastrous relations with Helena. Apparently, it was a lesson that didn’t stick.

“You get him?” Diggle asked Oliver while he packed up his bow.

“No. He wasn’t there.” The robber had managed to slip past him. Maybe because Oliver was a little preoccupied with the man’s last victim.

“So, what now?” Diggle swiped his thumb across his lips. It was a move the man used when there was something he wanted to say but refrained from voicing whatever strong opinion he had.

“I have a date.”

Diggle groaned and scrubbed at his face. “Who is it this time?”

Oliver glared in his direction. He was finally beginning to accept Diggle as a friend, so the disappointment that lined his words hurt. “Felicity Smoak.”

His friend crossed his well-muscled arms and hung his head. When Diggle looked up again, worry lay there plainly in his eyes. “Is this another Helena?”

“No. Felicity is nothing like Helena.” Oliver stripped off his jacket. His own words hit him. It was true. Felicity and Helena were on two different spectrums. That didn’t mean that Felicity was any less dangerous. In fact, she might pose even more of a threat, because Oliver began to lose the boundaries he imposed on himself whenever she was near.

Helena made Oliver realize how lonely his life was. It was nice to find someone who was as lost as he was. Until he understood that she was far deeper into the darkness that consumed them both. Remorse was a lost word where Helena was concerned.

What Felicity brought out, however, was that Oliver no longer wanted to be separated from the world in which he lived. She made him want to connect to someone, just as Thea once told him he should. With Felicity he didn’t feel like either Oliver Queen or The Hood. He was just a man attracted to a very beautiful, smart, intriguing woman. It was the smart part that scared him the most. If he let her get too close she might figure out all of his secrets. Yet, it was something he was almost willing to risk because for once he felt human and not like some monster that circumstance created.

“Hmm.” Diggle stood there studying him and Oliver set into movement. He needed to get ready. As it was, he was already going to be late. Luckily, Oliver Queen was known for being late on a regular basis.

“Spill,” Oliver demanded from his friend after disappearing behind the changing area.

“I think that somehow rescuing this woman brought out some sort of protective instinct. And in case you haven’t put two and two together, that is a dangerous thing in your line of work.”

“It’s not about being protective, Digg.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No,” Oliver told him. He shrugged on his suit jacket as he came back to join his bodyguard.

“Am I invited along on this little date?” Diggle stood there leaning against the computer desk. His face was somewhere between concern and anger.

Oliver raised and lowered his shoulders. “It might look weird if I forgo my trusty bodyguard’s presence on something so simple.” Oliver grinned at his friend. “Plus, who else will drive us?”

Diggle shook his head, grabbing his own suit jacket from the back of the computer chair. “Where exactly are you planning on going during this excursion?”

Pulling out his phone, Oliver glanced down at the text on his phone. “Her place. After that, I don’t know.”

“Tell me you are not planning on sleeping with this woman.”

“I’m not.” Not that Oliver hadn’t thought about it. No. It was because he didn’t trust himself to not say something incriminating during the aftermath of their lovemaking.

“Good.” Diggle nodded and followed Oliver out. Not that Oliver took much notice. His head still reverberated with the words of her text.

I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding. I’ll be happy to meet you at the office whenever you’re ready to discuss your computer issue. But I do have to decline your dinner offer.

OQFSOQFSOQFS

Felicity flopped down on her couch relieved the day was finally almost over. She peeked toward her coffee table where her phone and the binder of take-out menus lay. A decision would have to be made about what she wanted to eat, but she still needed to decompress over the day’s events.

It wasn’t every day a regular, everyday girl had someone like Oliver Queen kiss her. Even if it was some sort of challenge or joke, it was a memory Felicity was sure to keep for a long time. Something as memorable as sharing a kiss with a hooded stranger.

Her tongue licked over her lips. With her eyes closed, Felicity began to wiggle uncomfortably on her couch. The thought of both of those kisses had her skin tingling in places that hadn’t been touch in a long while. No sooner had her head fallen back onto the couch, lost in her daydream, when her doorbell rang. Felicity yelped and gripped onto the fabric underneath her tightly.

The bell chimed again and Felicity eased herself gently off the couch. She hadn’t brought her crutches over. They were still in her bathroom after her shower.

Felicity’s eyes touched upon the open binder of menus as she stood. She hadn’t called anything in yet so she wasn’t expecting anyone to be at her door, especially at this time of night.

It took a moment to unchain and unlock her door, once she had hobbled over. For some reason she never thought to glance out the peep hole. Probably because her normally quick brain was still trying to recover from the sensual memories it had been lost in.

Easing the door open, Felicity discovered one of the men who had littered her brain standing there. The one without the hood. Oliver Queen. However, for the briefest of instances, her fogged brain, comprehended the shadowed half of him as the vigilante. An insane thought.

Oliver Queen couldn’t possibly be The Hood. For one thing, he had already been charged with that offense only to be let go after the man had attacked someone else while Oliver was in custody. Secondly, why would someone of Oliver Queen’s means be even interested in the struggles of the lowest incomed people of Starling City?

“What are you doing here?” Felicity finally managed to ask. “For that matter, how do you know where I live?”

“You’re a Queen Consolidated employee, Miss Smoak,” he replied back to her with a smirk on his face. “And I believe we had a date.”

Felicity glanced over her shoulder toward the clock she had hanging on her wall before facing him again. “Had being the operative word. It’s eight pm.”

“It’s almost eight pm,” he rectified. “And, I’m sorry I’m late.” His eyes swept over her and Felicity slid further behind the door she still held in her hands. Being in her pajamas definitely put her in a disadvantage to his well-dressed appearance.

It wasn’t fair that this guy could look like he just stepped off a magazine cover at any given moment. In contrast, Felicity felt like even the models who were in the catalogue she ordered her own clothes from would laugh at her. Even her hair was askew from the messy top knot she had put her hair in to take a quick bath after work. She would’ve much preferred a shower since it would have been quicker but her cast pretty much preempted that.

“I’m not dressed to go anywhere.”

“I can wait,” he said with an actual smile this time.

Okay, so this wasn’t quite going her way. Despite her attire, Felicity slipped outside her door, closing it behind her so he couldn’t see the mess it was in. She stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, mostly because she was braless at the moment. “You can wait all night. I’m not going to dinner with you.”

The smile fell from his face. Oliver didn’t look angry as much as disappointed. However, he shuttered his face quickly so that no emotion remained. It was almost unnerving. He gave her a curt nod and stepped back, landing him in the shadows.

“Stop,” Felicity called out to him before he could turn to go. Her eyes narrowed at the image in front of her. Except for the light reflecting off his white dress shirt, the only part of him completely visible in the light was from his lips down to his chin.

Felicity reached out. Her finger swept over his lips and down the scruff on his chin. It couldn’t be. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. Oliver Queen was not the vigilante. Not the man under the hood. Not the man who had shown her such kindness after her injury. Not the man she had kissed under the cloudy skies the night she was almost robbed.

She hopped closer. Oliver’s eyes cut through the darkness as they stared down at her. A fire licked within their depths. Without thought, Felicity surged up and pressed her lips to his. Closing her eyes, she shut down the nagging thoughts that wanted to remind her that this was Oliver Queen. Instead she tried to concentrate of the memory of the man she never thought she might see again.

His fingers dug into her shoulders at first. It was like he was trying to push her away from him, but couldn’t. Then a low moan escaped him. Deep and growly. A familiar sound.

Oliver turned slightly and lips slashed more fully over hers. One of his hands came up and yanked her hair free from her bun. His hand swept through it, still managing to pull her closer in the process.

This was definitely the man she remembered. The one who hated himself for kissing her but refused to stop because it was too hard of a feat. Somehow Oliver Queen was that man. Even with her large IQ, it confused her.

For days her mind became preoccupied with one thing. Who could the man be? She never figured she’d even come close to figuring out the answer, let alone having the man unmasked at her fingertips.

“Felicity,” he breathed out her name before kissing her again.

She shivered in his arms. This inexplicable connection to a man she should have never come in contact with, not as The Hood or Oliver Queen, was strong. An invisible link that neither of them could fight off. The chemistry between them was practically combustible. Rocket scientists would probably love to bottle it up.

A throat cleared from nearby. Felicity felt blood invade her face at the very real thought that they had been visible to every one of her neighbors had they only peeked out their windows. Pushing back from Oliver, she tried to settle gently on her feet but her heel hit the floor a little too quickly. It sent pain radiating up her leg.

Oliver reached out to her quickly. Concern deeply lining his face. “Are you okay?”

Grimacing through the pain, Felicity gave him a quick nod. “I’m fine. Just hit my foot a little harder than I planned.”

“Where are your crutches?”

Felicity jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Inside. In my bathroom.”

“Sir?” a voice interrupted. “Are you still planning to make your reservation?”

“Reservation?” Felicity asked. If he had somewhere to be, why did he come here?

Oliver smiled gently down at her, but his hand remained at her hip. “We were supposed to go to dinner, remember?”

“Right.” The thought of food had her stomach grumbling. She covered it with her hands embarrassed. “Dinner.”

“Dinner,” Oliver agreed with a nod. “You might want to get changed. Not that I’m complaining. You’re outfit is kind of cute.”

Felicity couldn’t believe Oliver just complimented her long-sleeved flannel plaid pajamas. Not that she was a prideful person, but she could’ve chosen a better outfit in which to meet him in. As it was what kind of crazy universe did she step into? Oliver Queen slash The Hood had kissed her for the third time.

“I think we might have a few things to discuss.” So, he had picked up on the fact that she was a little confused over the fact that they might be the same person.

Nodding, Felicity reached for the handle of her door. “Give me ten minutes.” She stepped forward right on her foot with the broken ankle. Her face contorted in pain as she bent over. “Frack!” Slipping one eye open through the pain, she glanced up at him. “Make it twenty.”

Oliver stared down at her in worry. “Do you want me to cancel?”

“No. Like you said we have to talk.” Her stomach grumbled again, unmindful of her current pain. “And eat.”

“I’ll let them know we’ll be late.”

When Felicity nodded her assent she thought that would be it. She’d hobble inside and get ready to go out with him. But apparently, Oliver wasn’t quite ready to let her do that. He spun her around pressing her to the doorjamb. His fingers gentle rubbed over her cheeks and she actually leaned into his touch, reveling in it.

“I’ll wait in the car,” were the last words he said before his lips touched hers gently. He smiled down at her opened her door and walked away with the man who had spoken to him. His bodyguard if Felicity had her facts straight. That’s what had Felicity heading inside and leaning against her door trying to work her brain around one of the most unreal experiences of her life.

@thebookjumper @almondblossomme @olicityhiatusficathon

#Olicity Hiatus Fic-a-Thon #olicity fanfiction #olicityfic #OlicityHiatusFic #Olicity

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darweaniedraws · 7 years ago

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Things Left Unsaid, Chapter 3: A Different Perspective

My third installment of my Olicity soulmates AU, Things Left Unsaid, set in Season 1 and Season 2 canon. Here’s the chapter summary:

“When Oliver gets shot by his mother, Diggle gets to see Oliver and Felicity without the distractions of the QC employees.“

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Felicity doesn’t know what’s wrong with her shoulder, but there’s this dull pain that’s been bothering her for the past few minutes. It’s not even in the usual place in her back, by her shoulder blade. It’s more toward the front, where her left collar bone is.

She chalks it up to stress. Ever since Walter Steele disappeared during the holidays and Felicity gave Oliver Walter’s book of names about a week ago, she’d thrown herself into her work to keep her mind off of her missing boss and her mysterious soulmate. She’d almost told Oliver about their mark right there in that Big Belly Burger when he’d sincerely told her that she could trust him. The way his bright blue eyes had turned so kind and reassuring toward her, even when the book had clearly shaken him, had almost broken through to the hopeful part of Felicity that she clearly inherited from her mother.

Luckily, she’d been able to rein that part of her in, no matter how much Felicity had wanted to feel that almost delicious burn of her mark again.

That urge had been growing and growing ever since Oliver had found her at QC. She didn’t think he’d take her up on her offer to help him with any technical issues so soon, but he had. And he does so pretty often.

First, it was the bullet-ridden laptop. Then it was finding his “old buddy” Derek Reston. Then it was a very suspicious black arrow, which raised a few red flags, given that Starling City now has a bow and arrow-wielding vigilante running around at night. After the arrow cam a very strongly encrypted security fob with incredibly illegal looking plans on it. Then just before she’d handed Oliver Walter’s book, it was a very scary, incredibly eyebrow-raising syringe full of an “energy drink.” Felicity has her suspicions about that one. Maybe Vertigo? But what would a billionaire be doing trying to figure out where Vertigo is being made? The thought had made her shudder.

All these strange requests have led to even more time with Oliver that she didn’t want. Or at least that’s what Felicity tells herself. With each encounter, Felicity feels their bond grow stronger, even though they never stray from shop talk. Felicity hasn’t been able to tell if Oliver has even noticed or felt their connection yet, but she certainly has.

Ugh. Someone tell her why she didn’t move out of Starling when she had the chance. Felicity didn’t come here to deal with soulmate crap. Instead of thinking too hard about “he-must-not-be-named,” and she’s not talking about Voldemort, Felicity threw herself into her work.

It’s a Wednesday night when she’s so caught up in her server room office that she doesn’t realize how late it’s gotten. It’s when she starts packing up to head home that Felicity starts to feel a dull pain near her collarbone.

She must be beyond exhausted if her body is choosing random spots to pick on.

With tired eyes, Felicity makes her way to her red Mini Cooper. Despite her exhaustion, she can’t help but feel that there’s something wrong, so she hurries to the driver door.

A pained grunt in the backseat of her car scares the hell out of her.

When she turns to look, her eyes go wide. It’s the freaking Hood. Holy Frack.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Felicity.”

Hearing his voice, Felicity immediately know who it is, yet she still asks in a panicked voice, “How do you know my name?”

Then, he pulls his hood back. “Because you know my name.”

Double frack. It is Oliver. Her soulmate. Who is currently bleeding all over her backseat.

Felicity wants to take him to the hospital. Desperately so. However, even in his weak state, Oliver insists she take him to his father’s old steel factory.

So she does.

Felicity doesn’t have the time to think about the fact that her shoulder has been hurting because Oliver’s is so severely injured in the same spot. He’s bleeding out so much it has Felicity shaken to her bones. She almost drives on autopilot, especially when Oliver seems to pass out just after telling her how to get to the factory. Luckily, he’d also told her where to park her car and the code to the back entrance of his secret lair. It saves her the time of having to hack in.

Felicity zooms into the parking lot and tries not to flip her Mini over when she brakes hard.

Her next obstacle is getting Oliver down into the lair. Out of panic, she fails to notice the other car present in the lot while she struggles to lift Oliver from the backseat. Only after a few seconds does she realize the town car in the lot, most definitely driven by Oliver’s bodyguard, John Diggle.

So Felicity rushes to the sealed door, punching the code as quickly as she can. Mr. Diggle almosts shoots her when she catches his attention, but once she notices the bloodstains on her clothes, he realizes she is no threat and they hurry to gather Oliver.

The next few hours are brutal for her sanity. The first time Oliver flatlines, it’s like her world stops. With the small amount of time they’ve spent together, Felicity didn’t think that their marks had bonded all that much. The connection had definitely gotten stronger, evident by the pain she feels in her shoulder and collarbone. But when Oliver’s heart stops, it feels as though hers does too.

She is only jostled out of her frozen state when Mr. Diggle springs into action and pulls out the shock cart.

After what seems like forever, Oliver is finally in a stable condition, but not without giving her and Mr. Diggle a few more heart attacks (almost literally for her).

Now they wait for him to wake up. Since her focus doesn’t have to be on Oliver every second now, although part of her wants to keep an eye on him at all times, Felicity now has the opportunity to survey Oliver’s secret lair.

It’s… not the greatest thing Felicity’s ever seen. It’s just a dark, dingy basement. The tables here and there, with arrows and other vigilante equipment, just look like a haphazard attempt at a secret base. And don’t get her started on that atrocity of a computer setup. Walking over to Oliver’s computers, a scrunched up, disgusted look on her face, she takes account of how archaic the setup is. By Felicity’s standards, it’s almost as archaic as Oliver’s choice of weaponry.

“Something wrong?” Mr. Diggle asks from behind her.

“Other than this poor excuse of a computer system?”

He chuckles. “Well, Oliver isn’t exactly a computer expert.” Crossing his arms, he continues with a shake of his head, “If he’s an expert at anything it’s giving me a hard time keeping him alive.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how you deal with that.”

Mr. Diggle chuckles again. “Honestly, I don’t know either.”

She laughs with him. Tapping on the desk of computers, Felicity contemplated how she could fix the setup. “Do you think our dear Mr. Hood would mind if I tinker with his computers?” She doesn’t know why she asks because she already starts moving off all the clutter. “I don’t think I could stand it here if I didn’t do something about it.”

“Given you’re the one with a Masters in Computer Science, I don’t think he’d argue.”

Felicity turns back around to Mr. Diggle. “And Cyber Security. Computer Science and Cyber Security.” She goes to return to the computers and continue her work, but then she realizes what the bodyguard has said. “Wait, how do you know that? It’s not like a have a glowing neon sign in my office.”

“Our Mr. Queen had me do some research on you. To make sure he could trust you.”

Felicity rolls her eyes. “Of course he did.”

She goes back to the computers, thinking about how a third monitor could probably be set up while checking Oliver’s software. A few minutes pass before Felicity realizes Mr. Diggle is staring at her.

Repeating his earlier question to him, she asks, “Something wrong, Mr. Diggle?”

“First, my friends call me Diggle.”

“Oh! Are we friends now?”

“Considering we just worked together to save this man’s ass,” he points his thumb behind him to Oliver on the medical table, “I’d say we’re friends.”

“Okay, Diggle,” she says, testing it out. “What’s the second thing?”

Diggle observes her for a moment, contemplating if he should ask her. He’s seen Oliver’s mark. At first, he thought it was a tattoo. He’d mentioned to Oliver that he thought it ironic that he have a tattoo of an arrowhead. However, in a rare moment of honesty, Oliver had voiced it was actually his soulmate mark. In the end, Diggle does ask Felicity. “How long have you known about Oliver’s soulmate mark?”

Felicity’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, and she is sure that she’s broken out into a nervous sweat. “What? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she denies.

Well, that didn’t sound convincing at all. And Diggle knows it.

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Because I saw you touching it after the last time Oliver coded an hour ago. Plus, you’ve been rubbing the same spot on your body as Oliver’s wound.”

Felicity admits to having been feeling a bit of the pain at her collarbone, but she doesn’t even remember laying a hand on Oliver other than keeping him from bleeding out.

“You were probably too focused on Oliver to notice you were.” Diggle gives her a chance to say something, but she doesn’t. Felicity is too blindsided by Diggle’s observations and her lack of subtlety to think of anything. “I’m guessing by your reaction that you probably share the same mark.

Slowly, Felicity turns the computer chair toward Diggle, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. She can barely meet Diggle’s eyes. In a small voice, she pleads, “Please don’t tell him.”

Diggle wants to inquire more. Any soulmate would give anything for a chance to be with their soulmate. His grandfather almost gave up his life to be with Diggle’s grandmother. Why isn’t Felicity jumping at this chance?

But he doesn’t want to overstep her boundaries. Especially if she might be joining him and Oliver in the lair. “I won’t,” he promises, though he hopes in the future she’d be able to tell him why she doesn’t want to be with her soulmate.

Felicity blows a breath of relief and nods her thanks. Then she returns to upgrading the computer system, the tension still in her shoulders.

It only depletes slightly when, another hour later, Oliver finally wakes up. But the furrow in her brow doesn’t truly disappear.

Diggle watches the two of them interact. He’s seen the two of them together before, at the QC offices. He found it amusing how Felicity would always get flustered around the billionaire. But now he can see it’s different than the crush he thought Felicity had on Oliver.

She only flusters because she’s hesitant to be around her soulmate. Probably one of the reasons she’s joining Oliver’s crusade part time.

“I’ll help you rescue Walter, but that’s it,” Felicity says. She catches Diggle’s eye for a second and falters. He can tell she struggles with keeping her soulmate in the dark. But she recovers quickly. “Then I want to go back to my boring life of being an IT girl.”

Away from her soulmate, Diggle assumes she says in her head. Her eyes flicker to Diggle again, but continues to say, “That’s my offer.”

Felicity stands there, nervous but still confident, waiting for Oliver’s response. Diggle can’t help but admire her for that.

Quietly, with a nod, Oliver agrees, “Okay.”

Again, Felicity looks like she’s struggling to say something, but Diggle sees the moment she pushes the urge to say it down. Then she rambles on about needing to use the bathroom.

This girl really is something else, Diggle decides. He’s about to go clean up all the medical supplies when Oliver stops Felicity before she heads upstairs to the restroom. Holding out his head, Oliver waits for Felicity to take it.

She hesitates, but she does. For that moment, as Oliver gives her a sincere “Thank you,” Diggle can tell that the rest of the room disappears from them. For just a moment, the two of them seem completely entranced with one another.

But then, Felicity pulls her hand back, almost like it’s been burned. Nervously, she smiles at both of them before heading up the stairs, unconsciously rubbing the painful spot on her collarbone.

Diggle watches Oliver. He stares curiously at the hand he used to shake Felicity’s. Did his hand burn too? Then, the injured vigilante shakes his head and masks his curiosity.

Diggle turns back to Felicity on the stairs, then back to the idiotically oblivious man standing in front of him, wrapped in a blanket.

God, help him, Diggle prays. These two will probably be the death of him.

#olicity fic #arrow fic #my fic #soulmates au #things left unsaid #oliver queen #felicity smoak #otp: just in case

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samanthaclarkson · 8 years ago

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Best Served Cold (a short story)

Had the men been sober, they would have surely felt the chill of the stone courtyard. But they weren’t, and they didn’t. Before them lay an abundance of food: meat, rum, fruit, bread. Anything they desired, they simply called for a servant to bring to them. Their drunken laughter resounded off the surrounding pillars, frequently accompanied with a ridiculous toast of some sort. Had they been sober, perhaps they could have saved their lives. But they weren’t, and they couldn’t.

Hidden in the shadows, a cloaked figure stood, invisible except for the exposed, glowingly pale skin. The build of the uninvited guest was thin, and if one wished to know the gender, they would have to get a clear view of the figure’s face to understand it was male. His head, covered in a heavy hood, was lifted just enough for the green and yellow eyes to easily watch the oblivious men, still drinking heavily. In the figure’s slender hand hung a twisted and tarnished dagger. Perhaps once it had been silver and straight, but now it represented its master, a sad remnant of what it used to be.

The time to strike would not be until the men were far past tipsy. When they would be so long gone they would scarcely be aware of their surroundings. He did not have to wait much longer. Minutes later, the first man sat upright in his seat, wobbling slightly, eyes not truly seeing, before his face fell forward, landing in the pile of gnawed bones and bread crusts on the platter before him. Had his companions been even a little more aware of their surroundings, they would have laughed heartily at his unconscious state. Instead, they quickly followed suit, succumbing to the influence of the rum.

The cloaked figure tensed in anticipation, but held himself back, waiting for his ears to confirm what his eyes already told him. Soon enough, the soft snores were audible in the otherwise silent courtyard.

Quickly, quietly, like a shadow, the hooded figure darted towards the slumping men. The knife, though tarnished, still glinted wickedly in the light of the setting sun as it was lifted above each man’s skull. His pale hand made a swift downwards movement, the razor-sharp blade sliding into the back of the first man’s head. A spurt of blood sprung from the fresh wound, a gurgling sound emitting from the fresh corpse. The first eliminated, the cloaked figure moved to the next two, killing them just as quickly as the first.

Before he could leave, the quiet yet clear sound of female footfalls echoed in the courtyard. There was a shrill scream of terror followed immediately by a thunderous crash as the maid dropped whatever she carried. The pale one lifted his head, giving the maid full view of his white face, causing hers to to go almost as void of color as his. Her breath caught in her throat as she stumbled back, landing heavily on the cold, tiled floor. Her gaze fell to cooling bodies of what had once been her employers. When she looked back up, eyes bulging and heart racing, he’d vanished. Gone like smoke in the night.

The assassin was not even slightly troubled by the idea that he could be chased down. The maid had seen him, and though she could not know his face, she must have exactly who he was: Bane, the most skilled and feared assassin of the great Wizard, Alastor. Having this job for almost 150 years makes one quite well known, despite attempts to keep identities hushed.

Bane traveled for seven days before finally reaching his hut, hidden away deep in the largest known forest. Filled with the dangers of the wild, animals, quicksand, and even others like Bane, visitors were unheard of here.

Bane entered his small, round hut through a rough-hewn door. The only dim light came from two small, opposing windows. Pushed to one side was an unmade cot. Near the door stood a large wardrobe, which Bane went to. A single spare cloak and an extra pair of leather boots was the only attire that resided there. Shelves lined the sides, filled with every kind of weapon known to man.

Bane hung up his cloak and placed his knife in its usual place before crossing the room. On the opposite wall was a curious sight. An array of names and the occasional sketch of a man or woman littered the wall, connected by dirty threads. There were roughly fifty or so altogether. At the top were four portraits from which all names and sketches flowed. The entire top half, including the portraits, and a select few of the lower half, had a single line crossing through each. One entire section fanning from one portrait had a line. Bane picked up a fresh quill from the desk underneath the four family trees. Dipping it into the inkwell that sat next to it, he made a neat line through a name in the lower half.

“One more of those scumbags gone,” Bane growled to himself, dropping the quill and stepping away.

A raven flew in the window, a meager, dirty scroll clenched in its beak. It gave Bane a distasteful look as he stepped closer, and childishly wouldn’t let go of the scroll until Bane threatened to break its leg. The wax seal on the outside bore the Wizard’s mark.

Bane quickly scanned the message in the scroll.

Bane, as I’m sure you know, your third fifty-year contract is due to end in two years. I know you have yet to finish the mission that led you to me almost 150 years ago, so I assume you’ll want to renew before you die in two years time. In the meantime, there is a man I need killed.

The rest of the message gave details about where Bane could find this man. It did not say why. Bane didn’t need to know. Bane did as he was told, and got his fifty years of life in return. What Bane did with his years outside of killing for Alastor was of no concern to the Wizard.

Bane scribbled a quick message on a piece of scrap parchment, and tossed it carelessly to the raven. The bird squawked angrily, snapped up the message, and vigorously flapped out the same window it had come through.

As soon as it was gone, a knock came on the door.

“Come in,” the assassin called, glancing eagerly to the wall of names. A tall, lanky man stepped through the doorway, a scroll of his own clenched in his fist. One of Bane’s own employees.

“Bane, I have news,” the man rumbled in a voice surprisingly deep for a man of his build. Bane did not speak, his expression one of mild interest. “I have located another descendant of the murderers that killed your family.”

“I killed the last one you gave me a week ago. You’re finding them quicker than you used to. Good.” The man grinned in relief at the small amount of praise Bane gave him. “So where is he?”

“A small town fifty miles East from the border of the woods. It’s a man and his family. One of the descendants of the ringleaders, actually. They’re extremely prosperous and influential. It won’t be hard finding them. But it might be a problem finding the perfect time to kill them all.”

“I’ll decide that,” Bane snapped, cutting him off. “Just give me the scroll and get out.” Bane pulled a gold coin from underneath his cot and tossed it to the spy. The scroll was set on the desk, and the man was gone.  

Two weeks later, Bane was on his way to Wallsworth, the town spelled out in the scroll. Strapped to his back was a quiver of arrows and bow, and on his hip hung his trusty knife.

His first step was to find the house of the man. It was a rich town, prosperous in the trade of their fine, golden wheat. All the buildings were finely built. According to the scroll his spy had given him, the home he was looking for was in the North of the town.

It was an unusual hunt. This man was not only unusually wealthy and well-loved by the townspeople, but he also had a healthy family of a wife, two sons, and a daughter, all still living with their parents.

Bane could not deny that he was slightly disturbed at the age range. Normally he hunted those who were at least twenty, yet the scroll told him the oldest child, the daughter, was seventeen.

That’s the same age I was when my own family…

Bane immediately pushed aside that thought. Emotions had never gotten in the way of his job before, he refused to let it start now. If he eliminated this family, the entire bloodline would be halted. He’d be down to only two. This was a job that had to be done.

Food wasn’t really necessary for Bane. When one is guaranteed life in return for kills, food becomes a luxury that isn’t required. Food always brought back painful memories of his mother’s cooking, which Bane preferred to push down. Bane immediately went to the nearby wood and found a perfect tree far off the beaten path where he could curl up under for the few days he planned to stay. He’d need the time for scoping out the perfect time to do his work.

“Hello?”

Bane jerked up from his lying position under his makeshift shelter. His hand immediately went to the knife on his hip, but he did not move from his spot or call out.

“Um, I see you under there,” the voice called out again, this time distinctly female. “What are you doing out here? There are inns just a short walk down the road. Can you not afford one? I can offer you some money if you can’t.”

Soft footfalls signaled the girl was coming closer to where Bane hid. Seeing as she was persistent, Bane crawled from his small shelter, trying to hold on to his dignity. As soon as he caught sight of her, his heart skipped a beat. It was the daughter, the daughter who he had every intention of slaughtering along with her father and brothers.

His first instinct was to kill her now and get it over with, and then her family before they realized she was missing and got the whole town looking for her. But he held himself back, forcing himself to think about it first.   “What’re you doing out here, anyway?” The girl’s glowing red hair fell in beautiful waves over one shoulder. Her figure was clothed in a clean, white dress, and on her arm hung a basket half filled with wild mushrooms and flowers. Her posture and innocence reminded Bane of his own sister, and it was as if someone had stabbed the assassin in the heart.

Bane did not answer, staring her down with the hopes that his intimidating appearance would frighten her off. But it did not seem to be working. She simply stared at him with curious blue eyes.

“Do you need food? Or perhaps a place to stay?” His lack of response did not seem to throw her off. On the contrary, the more he refused to answer her, the more determined she was to get one out of him.

“I don’t need your help,” Bane finally growled, when the girl made no move to leave.

“I’m Clyta,” said the girl, extending her hand in a friendly manner. “What’s your name?”

Bane just barely jumped when Clyta offered her hand, and made no move to accept it.

“No name? That’s okay. Are you staying long?”

“No longer than I must.”

“Well, I’ll be back tomorrow then. I guess I’ll find you or I won’t.” Clyta smiled, turned, and left, her footfalls almost as quiet as the assassin’s. Bane could not find it in him to even bark at her to never return.

Sure enough, the next day, she was back. Bane had spent the afternoon scoping out the town, learning patterns and places. He had seen her there, handing out bread to a collection of the poor that lined the streets. This time, she bore more than just flowers and mushrooms. In fact, she was at his makeshift shelter before he was, a small fire cooking a small meal of mushrooms and meat, a fresh loaf of bread sitting nearby.

“I noticed you had no food,” she said cheerily, giving him a smile he knew he didn’t deserve. “So I brought some from my house. I hope you don’t mind.”

Bane remained sullen and did not answer, instead shooting her a glare and sliding into his shelter. He caught himself watching her several times, her movements vaguely reminding him of how his mother used to cook.

Clyta finished her work, placed all the food on the wooden platter she had brought, packed up her things, and left with a simple “Enjoy! I’ll be back tomorrow!”

Bane at first had no desire to even look at the food, but the enticing aroma of fresh meat finally made his mouth water. It was his first meal in decades.

The next day she was there again when he got back. She did not cook this time, but seemed noticeably pleased that she had found the empty platter lying on the ground. This time she had bread and cold meat, enough for the two of them. She offered Bane some, which he sullenly left where she had set it, then took her own and began eating and talking.

She told him about her brothers, how she knew they would grow up to be great hunters. How her father had poured a fourth of his wealth into making this town beautiful, how her mother had taught her to care for those less fortunate than herself.

“My ancestors were not good people, I’m sorry to say,” Clyta murmured with a sigh. “My father has done his best to make up for it. He’s quite ashamed, I think.” She looked at Bane with a only slightly forced smile. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

Bane did not answer for a moment, weighing his words. Something about this girl made his walls begin to crack, and before he could stop it, the words came tumbling out. “My family… They’re all dead. They were captured and sold into slavery while I was off selling my father’s corn and my mother’s cloth at the market. I got back to find my home burned, and my parents and sister gone. When I finally caught up to them, my sister had been beaten to death, my father shot for attacking a guard, and my mother sold across the sea.”

Clyta froze, even halting her chewing. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “That’s truly awful. How long ago?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bane snarled, his hand closing into a fist. “They’re gone now, and I have to go on without them.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, each pondering their own thoughts.

“I’d better go,” Clyta finally said, getting to her feet and slowly packing up her things. “Again, I’m really sorry about your family. I can’t even imagine…” She turned to go, but Bane stopped her.

“My name,” Bane hesitated. Clyta patiently waited. “My name is Bane.”

A small, almost sad smile crept onto Clyta’s face. “Nice to meet you, Bane.” And she left.

That night, Bane made a decision. Clyta was starting to get to him. He had barely known the girl two days and already he could feel his edge starting to dull. He had to attack, tonight.

A shadow in the dark, Bane crept into town. Not a single soul noticed him, even when he climbed the wall to get into the courtyard of Clyta’s family.

First to go would have to be the father. Bane found him in a sitting room, quietly reading a book with a smoking cigar held loosely between his lips.

Bane lifted the glass window that separated the two of them. Years of practice made this task easy and silent. Soon, he was posed behind the man, knife raised in hand. He stood there for several seconds too long. For some reason he could not make himself thrust his knife. The man still did not notice him, at least not until Clyta stepped through the doorway.

“Father, excuse me for interrupting, but—“ she immediately broke off when she saw Bane standing behind her father. She let out a terrible scream and rushed forwards. Bane stumbled back, his knife dropping slightly. Later he would tell himself it was because he was caught off guard, though he knew that wasn’t true. The man finally noticed the killer in his home. He jumped from his chair, grabbing a heavy book from one of the nearby tables as if that could defend him.

“Who are you?” he barked, grabbing his daughter’s wrist and trying to tug her behind him. Bane didn’t answer, his sickly yellow and green eyes filled with some sort of unusual expression as he stared at Clyta.

“Bane,” Clyta cried, wrenching her wrist from her father’s hold and stepping closer to the assassin. “Why are you doing this?” Her tone suddenly dropped, as if speaking to a frightened and dangerous animal. “I thought we were… friends?”

Bane had no intention of telling Clyta his motives when he had gone into this job, but now, staring at her tear-filled, glassy eyes, he found himself explaining it to her.

With bitter words, Bane told her. “Your ancestors killed my family. We are not friends.”

“That’s impossible,” Clyta tried to reason with him. “You’re hardly much older than I am.”

Bane snorted. “I made a deal with the Wizard Alastor. He gives me years and I kill anyone he asks me to. When I’m not doing his bidding, I spend my years hunting the people who murdered my family. I am much, much older than seventeen.”

Clyta’s mouth hung slightly ajar as she stared at him in disbelief. “I understand that you’re angry about your family, and you have a right to be. But we didn’t do it.”

“Clyta!” Her father yelled. “Get back from him! He’s dangerous.”

“Perhaps,” Clyta murmured. “Bane,” she said, speaking louder. “If you want to kill my family, you have to start with me first.” Both of them ignored her father as he kept insisting she get back.

Bane did not move. Flashes of memories darted through his mind. His father, protecting his sister and teaching Bane to do the same. His mother, beautiful and gentle. His sister, playful and kind. Bane himself, before he turned into this… this thing. He used to be happy, eager, even forgiving.

Clyta’s voice turned gentle. “Please, I know you’re better than this.”

Bane snapped his eyes up to look at her, the hardness returning. “You don’t know anything about me.” In a flash of black cloth, he had leapt out the window and disappeared.

No one knows what happened to Bane. No one knows if he went back to Alastor to renew his deal, or if he continued his hunt for other decedents of the men who killed his family. There was still a deadly assassin in the land, killing and causing unrest, but no one could know for sure if it was Bane. We do know one thing, though. Clyta and her family were never in danger from then on.

#short stories #assassin #descriptive #writing #writers #forgiveness #mercy #wizard #one-shot

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lemonscreativeworld · 8 years ago

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A Moonlit Meeting

Ruri and Katsuo meet, forever changing both of their lives.

The moon shone brightly over the forest, illuminating the woman walking on the dirt path.

Her footsteps were soft and unhurried, despite being a beautiful young walking on a dangerous road at night. There was an aura of confidence about her that seemed nearly deadly.

The woman regularly patrolled this road, which led to her hotsprings inn. The entire valley was hers; Sakura no Tani had been in her family for generations, passed down from grandmother to mother to daughter and ever since her mother died, it was hers to maintain and to guard.

Hence why she was walking at night. Foolish bandits liked to think that simply because this valley was run by a female inn owner, they could muscle their way into the peace and take over. It never failed that she was attacked at least twice while on her route.

It also never failed that those same bandits' eviscerated bodies were found on the road leading out from the valley, on the edge of the nearest village. Blood dripped from her fingers and mouth in the morning and her employees and the village residents had long since stopped asking.

After all, their lives were simple and peaceful, but unimaginably prosperous. If their bloodthirsty guardian doesn't turn her hunger towards them and instead towards those who would disturb their blissful existence, then what would they gain with protesting?

A rapid succession of footfalls snatched her from her thoughts and she turned her head towards the line of trees that she heard them from and not a second later, out burst a young man. He was no older than her; in fact, he seemed like a few years her junior. His black hair was greasy and unkempt, like a river of oil. She noticed the flecks of blood in it as well and the larger stains on his person. Some were on his face, but most of it was on his chest and hands. One of which seemed to grip a sword.

He finally looked at her and she was mildly surprised to see his eyes were a demonic shade of yellow. It pierced her soul and when it found that she would not be shaken, he growled, taking a step towards her. But instead of rushing at her like a wild animal, he merely fell flat on his face, passing out before he even hit the ground.

She looked at him with a look of disdain and interest. Not many have surprised her like this. It made her wonder about the condition of this man. If he was possessed by a demon, she would simply purge it and allow her village to nurse him back to health. If not, well then...

Before she had a chance to check, she heard another set of fast moving footsteps coming towards her. With these, she could feel the malice rolling off of their owner like miasma. She reached for both her bow and knife as a second man burst through the woods, panting and snarling like a rabid wolf. The second man looked at the first and smiled that screamed insanity. He didn't even notice her and instead reached for the first man.

He jumped back when an arrow flew at him, narrowly missing him by centimeters and seconds. His attention snapped to her and she finally felt a quiver when looking at this man. He had the same -

No...she thought, looking at his eyes again, more clearly. He was fully possessed by whatever resided in the other man and he reveled in his demonic power.

"Who are you? And why do you get in the way of me and my Katsuo-Kun?!" He screamed, spittle flying everywhere as he drew his sword and pointed it at her.

She merely narrowed her eyes and said nothing, keeping her focus entirely on the threat in front of her. He laughed suddenly. "You won't say anything?! Fine then! I'll make sure everyone knows that your final words were your screams!" He threw himself at her, sword poised for the killing.

He was immediately struck by a lightning bolt and thrown back into a tree. The force broke the tree and the place where he was hit was burned and still sizzling. He was dazed and coughing blood, but still mobile.

When he lifted his head, he was shocked to see a golden, nine-tailed fox floating above the bitch. Balls of lightning hovered over the both of them, protectively and as he gazed back at his Katsuo-Kun, he saw a couple of lightning balls over him too.

He turned back to his Katsuo-Kun and got up slowly, sword still in hand. He hobbled over to his Katsuo-Kun when another ball of lightning hit the space between him and his Katsuo-Kun.

"Leave." A melodious and ethereal voice said, power dripping from it. His eyes went back to the fox-witch and her familiar. "Leave this place and never return." The fox said, it's blood red eyes trying rip his soul asunder. "You are marked with the crest of my family. Never set foot in my valley again or be destroyed."

In the distance was the sound of people, and a lot of them. While he had no problem slaughtering a few idiots, this witch and her familiar posed serious problems.

Live to fight another day, he decided, as he sheathed his sword and ran away, swearing to kill the witch and skin her fox.

When Daiki came up the hill, the sight of his mistress with her bow drawn, a fallen man on the ground and another man running towards the valley entrance and exit was something unexpected but a more welcome sight than what he had imagined when he heard thunder on a clear night. He and the villager men he gathered up breathed a collective sigh of relief when she lowered her bow and turned to face them.

She smiled; meant to be reassuring but coming off a bit more menacing than she probably meant.

Probably.

"I am sorry to have worried you all." She spoke. She pointed to the fallen man. "Retrieve Doctor Kyou and have him look over this man. Then bring him to the inn and set him in the room next to mine." She started on the way the other man had ran to.

"A-ah! Sakurai-Sama, do you require assistance?!" Daiki called out, running a few steps towards his mistress.

"No." She said firmly, not looking behind her at the Kondo. "It would be best that you turn to the village and tell the men and warriors to stay on alert. Protect Doctor Kyou's with your lives."

Daiki stopped and gazed at his mistress with fear and awe. This woman was dangerous in the best way and he would gladly give his life for her.

He bowed and said "Yes, Sakurai-Sama!" He turned back to his group and started barking out orders; the Hyuga born villagers knew better than to defy Daiki, a Kondo or not. He was Sakurai-Sama's right hand mistress and to go against him would go against their bloodthirsty guardian.

She walked the path to the valley's entrance, the demonic miasma like a breadcrumb trail leading her towards him. Her hand gripped her bow and Raiden walked along beside her, his tails swishing back and forth in aggravation.

"How dare this human demon walk into my valley and dare threatens my human." He huffed, his lightning balls dancing around him.

"Settle yourself, Rai-Kun. It was none of our business and we could have handed the other idiot over to the first and be done with it." She gave him a look before continuing. "But yet, your fragile ego could not handle a mere human whelp playing demon insulting me, like I am a mere maiden."

Raiden growled. "Silence! Your mother had more respect towards me! I daresay your grandmother as well, even though she too had a mouth on her."

She laughed and pat his head lovingly. Though a proud creature, Raiden could not rest a head pat from his beloved human.

Their moment was interrupted by a long howl, tinged with madness and evil. She looked up and saw that the man was looking down on the valley from a ridge and she could feel his evil raking over her form. Then, as the dawning sun slowly crept above the horizon of the valley, he was gone, the same howl washing over the valley.

She and Raiden watched his retreat and knew that he would return...

Back at the village, Daiki tried to calm down the once fallen man.

After Doctor Kyou had checked him over, the old man was nearly knocked out by the awoken man's panicked flailing. It had taken Daiki and his brother Daichi to carry him over to Sakurai-Sama's inn. It caused more than a few of the now awake villager's stares, but given how much strangeness happens in this valley, this bit of silliness was more than welcomed.

But now, Daiki was thinking about making the man pass out again. He couldn't stand the shouted threats much longer.

Thankfully, the door slid open and revealed his mistress. The Kondo bowed low, his forehead pressed into the floor. "Sakurai-Sama! I apologize for the mess, but this man will not calm himself!"

She had on a navy blue with royal purple cherry blossom patterns and a pipe, smoking drifting out of the unusually large bowl, which was decorated with a fox next to a cherry blossom tree. Her considerable bust was nearly falling out of her kimono and her unusual pale green eyes reminded him of freshly cut bamboo. She looked like a hostess but if the way the Kondo was acting, she was the owner of this in.

"That's quite alright, Daiki. You are dismissed but tell Akiko-Chan that need some miso and rice. Also tell her to make a couple of dumplings for your trouble." Her voice held an air of absolute authority and her aura spoke of someone who was not to be messed with unless you had power: and a lot of it.

The Kondo, Daiki, thanked her and he walked out of the room, giving him one last ugly look before closing the door.

He turned to the woman and snorted. "Are you the owner? Because I have a few choice words for you and many quest-"

"You were running from another man, your eyes telling me of an unwilling demonic possession and his eyes of a more than willing one. You were injured and I chased off the other one. You are safe and he will not be able to step into my valley without fatal repercussions." She told him, not waiting for him to finish. She sat down across from him and smoked on her pipe, looking at him with a look he wasn't sure he liked.

His mouth was agape as she said she chased off Jun and that she could basically kill him if she wanted. He could feel her power and cringed, scooting back a bit. "Who are you?" He asked.

She smiled, full of intent and he didn't know if it was good or bad. "My name is Ruri Sakurai, and I am now, Katsuo-Kun, your mistress."

#samurai of hyuga #soh #ronin: katsuo #ronin: ruri sakurai #jun #soh jun #original post

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adventk-blog · 7 years ago

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— ARE YOU WHO YOU WANT TO BE,

introducing JUNG TAEKWOON, a MUTANT, under the moniker of ELGAR — and currently a believer of CO-EXISTENCE. age ( twenty-four ) and gifted with the ability of ELVEN PHYSIOLOGY, they are currently working as TAILOR & HERBALIST.

WE ARE SO MUCH MORE THAN STORIES,

in days of yore, the boy would have been called a ward. a stranger in a home that would never be his. a boy in baggy clothes with eyes as dark as the colour black and the tips of dirty raven hair brushing along a v-shaped jaw. jung taekwoon had been an orphan all his life; at least, that’s what they had told him when strong hands rested heavily on delicate shoulders, urging the boy to move forward. a gentle push in the back led the hesitant boy from the orphanage into a sleek car, his worn shoes barely offering any protection as the holes in the soles had gravel scrape against the boy’s small feet. yet, the child hadn’t complained. jung taekwoon was an obedient boy; complaining was futile as his efforts would never amount to anything. a waste of time and emotion. taekwoon also did not ask questions as he was led into the car that soon drove into parts of the country the boy had never seen before. silence reigned when woodlands of the purest green, gold-coloured corn fields and skies as blue as the ocean were traded for grey skyscrapers as high and far as the eye could see.

a well-respected researcher and scientist smiled upon the boy with glee as his wife welcomed the child into their lavish home, a villa in the nicer parts of incheon. back then taekwoon had not known the reason for the man’s motivation to adopt the boy and, as usual, he had not asked. perhaps if the boy had known that it was the man’s obsession with celtic myth, in particular the existence of fairies and his belief that they were not merely a part of western tales, taekwoon would have offered more of a struggle as he was embraced in the midst of a new family with dark intentions. the patriarch of the family was a wealthy person - financing his own research - and soon-to-be employee at the daybreak foundation, a man who by chance happened upon the smallest orphanage ever to be seen, in a rural part of the country, where he saw a small, lanky boy play outside. the glaring sun had not touched the boy’s complexion, making a sick mind believe in the possibility of the boy having genes of the wee fair folk. and so, after buying petrol for the fancy car which had run out it, and talking to the owner of the orphanage, the man henceforth had in possession what he called a treasure - a changeling boy.

the changeling soon acquired a new name, his previous existence all but wiped from the records. jung taekwoon became yong chulsoo, son of yong minsoo and kim jihye at age six. until his 11th year, the boy was raised between high brick walls and played behind sturdy iron gates. he was taught to talk politely, ask questions and to read and write while forced to indulge in fantastical stories of myth while his so-called father watched over him from a distance - keen eyes never leaving the boy’s sight in search for whatever would betray the boy’s lineage. with each passing week, those eyes became sharper, a desperate glint taking over calculated orbs and a strong body moved forward, hovering over chulsoo during play times. taekwoon - no, he was chulsoo now - learnt to look over his shoulder wherever he went, developed a slight tremor in his hands whenever he wrote ( both of them ) and whenever the boy spoke, a sliver of fear laced within the prim and proper words revealed that he was, in fact, scared. scared of the man with the wicked gleam and open interest in his eyes and afraid of the woman who would smile thinly before averting her gaze, never to aid or come to the boy’s rescue. scared because the nanny the yongs hired disappeared without a trace when taekwoon turned ten years old, and the year that followed showed many repeats of staff disappearing.

and then chulsoo was 11 years old and slowly being integrated into a life within the research facility that was still years away from being established as a home to mutants; at first gently, with occasional visits to daddy’s work place until chulsoo no longer returned to his own bedroom in the villa he feared so much. abducted, the facility became his new home, a place where he was experimented on in the basement. impatience had led yong minsoo to offer his adoptive son to gruesome experiments, off the record of course. as taekwoon’s - was he still chulsoo? - small feet carried him down the cold concrete steps he did not ask questions nor did he struggle. this time, it was not indifference holding the boy back. a small hand with pale fingers clutched at the bannister as he went, further down the stairs and swallowed up by the darkness that lay ahead. chulsoo was given his own room again, though this one did not have a nice wooden bed with soft silken sheets. a dingy chamber and a barely put-together operating room were the only two rooms jung taekwoon aka yong chulsoo would see until weeks after his 18th birthday.

there was darkness in those select few researchers who indulged in illegal experiments, keeping their wrongdoings from those higher up who had gathered together to speak of plans for a foundation in protection of those with abilities that remained unexplained. they subjected the poor boy to experiments which were painful and which endangered chulsoo’s life on a daily basis. chulsoo was no longer seen as human, as a person, but instead a soulless body - a blank canvas to do with as pleased. chulsoo lost track of days, knew pain that transcended simple, mortal pain and became mute - his screams the only evidence that his vocal chords had not endured any damage during the many surgeries performed on the boy. the morbid fantasy and desperation which drove the researchers to perform their heinous tasks allowed for fast results as they refused to give the boy a break, to let him heal past the surface wounds. it was soon found out that, despite chulsoo’s appearance and his family tree ( which held traces of contact with the fair folk ), chulsoo was most likely a regular human. this knowledge did not deter the scientists from reaching their goal, which was ultimately to recreate the species and perfect it - which would be more beneficial than finding and exposing true fairy mutants.

thus, the experiments continued. supposed ‘samples’ from fairy blood were used to extract fairy genes and were injected into chulsoo’s own gene pool. the creature genes reacted with chulsoo’s supposed human genes, which acted as catalysts and awoke chulsoo’s dormant, ancient fairy genes which had been previously overlooked as non-creature genes. however, the gene sample had not been fairy. the researchers had been surprisingly negligent with their sampling, urged by their haste and selfish desire to recreate a species that was never meant to be cloned. despite all the knowledge obtained, the human scientists failed to hone any ability to distinguish fae genes from elven genes, taking the latter to be the former when they weren’t. the elven genes swallowed what little traces of fairy were within the boy and started rewriting chulsoo’s entire gene pool to match. no longer was yong chulsoo a human boy with distant fairy heritage but a confused teenager who at times looked human but was a perfect carbon copy of a high elf.

the first thing chulsoo noticed when he awoke an elf was the presence of something which had been absent in his world before. a low humming in his ear, and the soft but steady thrumming of his heartbeat in response to it. almost invisible lines and splatches of colour which connected one object with another, not all inter-related but all linked to the concrete ground below - or whatever lay beyond. the earth, chulsoo’s mind supplemented, and the lines and blurring of colours, the faint buzz of something indistinguishable suddenly made sense. magic. chulsoo could feel magic in the air around him. it was thick with it. and just as that realisation dawned on the young elven princeling, the humming faded, the lines disappeared and the colours settled. chulsoo’s feet were bigger the second time he placed them on the dirty steps, this time ascending back into the world he thought he once knew but would once again become an unknown place to be. from one imprisonment into the next, chulsoo was unsure which cage he preferred - the one where his incarceration was obvious, or this new one, where a false sense of freedom and security would make him believe that he was there of his own free will.

yong chulsoo - no, jung taekwoon - saw the sun again when he was almost 19 years old, but was forced to remain within the facility to commence training. training for what, was not explained but when days turned to weeks and the year 2012 arrived, the objective of the daybreak foundation suddenly seemed as clear as day. in the following two years, the facility was expanded upon, mutants and vigils filling the void within the tall walls. taekwoon watched with now emerald-green eyes as fellow potentials tried to hone their abilities, almost desperately so, training day and night for the glory that may befall them one day. the cloned elf observed as vigils became all the more vigilant and dangerous, wielding weapons that at times had shivers run down the young man’s back while nightmares haunted his mind at night. taekwoon himself took up bow and arrow; perhaps a little stereotypical one might add but not without proper thought. because taekwoon noticed his practically impeccable marksmanship and what better weapon than an elegant elven bow to eliminate hostiles from afar? he had always been a passive presence, preferring instead to watch from the sidelines, to learn from a distance and keep the questions hidden within the secret recesses of his mind. archery was therefore the most perfect approach to potential warrior-ship for someone as reserved ( and resigned ) as jung taekwoon - or yong chulsoo.

his identity was something taekwoon often failed to understand. whether he was yong chulsoo or jung taekwoon, the elf had difficulties distinguishing which reactions were inherently his, or which were influenced by his father, the facility and their staff or even his new elven genes. who he was supposed to be, how he was supposed to act or think; they were mysteries to the young man’s own mind and at times it drove him insane - taekwoon scoring ruthless points during training, receiving praises as well as scoldings. and at times the make-shift elf was subdued, barely batting an eyelid as his life was endangered during sparring practices, or he would simply refuse to move - his bow a still and sad object at his side. along came the day chulsoo discovered an innate sense for healing; the irony of course not lost on the male who had only known destruction in his short life.

as chulsoo honed his near-perfect skills in archery as a long distance fighter, he also became interested in natural remedies. chulsoo spent much of his time researching the elven folk in the facility’s library, which left much to be desired but provided the elf with momentary reprieve from the fast-paced life within the facility and a place for peace and comfort. research then resulted in practice, where chulsoo secretly trained to find out more about his abilities with information retrieved from studying the heritage to his mutated genes. chulsoo discovered applications to his powers which he kept a secret from his guardians and scientists at the facility - from all but one person. she had been surprised to find a male mutant in her workshop classes but yong chulsoo ( jung taekwoon, he whispered to himself ) soon became her favourite student. the elderly woman taught taekwoon the wonders of fabric; how to design, cut and sew. a humble trade, she had called it. magical fingers, she had whispered as she’d admired taekwoon’s handiwork; so befitting of an elf, she added in a curious, mysterious tone with twinkling eyes.

when the foundation fell, jung taekwoon saw his chance to escape. he’d never felt connected to the facility or those within, save for the elderly instructor with the kind eyes and calloused hands. as the place taekwoon refused to call home was bombed, the elf maneuvered gracefully through the rubble, pushing through the masses that were either screaming, fighting or fleeing. sunlight called for him when he saw her and a handful of spiteful mutants as they closed in on the woman whose soft eyes were sharp in fright. for the first time, taekwoon took up arms instinctively - his body moving before he’d commanded it to do so - and watched as a perfectly straight arrow hit bulls eye. blood spurted in waves from a faceless male’s chest as he went down, where he remained unmoving. rage and fear soared through taekwoon’s bloodstream as he rushed forward to the woman’s aid, nocking another arrow that would never hit the next target. the attackers fled, leaving behind a fallen woman and their comrade dead on site.

as the rush of emotions threatened to suffocate taekwoon, his eyes filling with tears, he realised that this time he had reacted as he should have. he wasn’t yong chulsoo but he also wasn’t the jung taekwoon with worn shoes without laces, who had left behind an orphanage bathing in sunlight. the grief he felt was his own as trembling hands pressed against a bloodied abdomen and taekwoon realised the woman’s wounds were fatal. there was nothing he could do for the person who had been a light when all taekwoon could see was darkness and hopelessness. and as glittering tears fell, pointed ears listened to the last words she would speak. “cormamin niuve tenna’ ta elea lle au.” fear slipped from dulling orbs. “namaarie.. elgar” the elderly lady with sunken eyes and straw textured hair croaked when morríghan finally embraced her.

THERE IS FLESH AND BLOOD BEHIND THESE TALES,

( temperance ) ever since he can remember, taekwoon was told that good things don’t always come to good people and that the pleasures in life should be enjoyed in moderation, in humility and grace. he must control himself, his emotions and his urges, to live a full life. add to that the elven mutation taekwoon has endured, and an almost chaste person is created - restraining taekwoon’s naturally passionate personality.

( self-reliance ) from a young age, taekwoon has learnt that he only has himself to rely on; his own strength, abilities and mind. he is resourceful and stands on his own two feet. because he’s learnt that he can only depend on himself, it is sometimes difficult for taekwoon to seek help, to let go and trust his own well-being in the hands of someone else.

( privacy ) taekwoon is a very private person, preferring to keep himself and his affairs as secretive and inconspicuous as possible. he does not open up to people easily, is quite reserved and prefers to spend time in small company rather than large, loud groups. it may take a while for people to gain taekwoon’s trust to the point where he will feel comfortable sharing his most private thoughts.

( silence ) taekwoon is naturally quiet, does not raise his voice often and enjoys silence more than he does talking or loud noises. his quietness can sometimes irk people, especially the loud-mouthed or boastful types or naturally cheerful and talkative people who may not be as comfortable with pauses in conversations. however, to taekwoon, a person in whose company he can enjoy a silent afternoon is someone who he will appreciate endlessly.

( oblivion ) despite taekwoon’s strength of observation, there is much to which he is oblivious. while he can sense dark auras and malevolent intent in others towards others, he rarely notices if anyone has ill-will against him. similarly, matters of the heart are also not easily noticed by taekwoon and it will take him a while to realise if someone holds romantic affections for him.

( fearlessness ) while taekwoon is against foolish bravery, thoughtless actions and tactless words, he himself is something akin to fearless. this is an exceptionally dangerous trait as it sometimes makes him oblivious to danger when it crosses his path ( and makes him sometimes prone to acts of bravery he so often condemns ). whether it’s the detached and slightly haughty personality his elven genes have instilled in him or taekwoon’s natural attitude of following into unknown situations without much further thought remains unknown.

( romance ) he may contradict himself at times or outright deny, but taekwoon is a romantic soul. he believes in love as one does in fairy tales but dislikes that part of him as he believes it also makes him appear naive. it is perhaps a surprise that, after having been wronged so many times and given untrue love, taekwoon still believes in the beauty and existence of unconditional love.

( arrogance ) while not intentional, taekwoon may sometimes appear arrogant and apathetic. his icy features do nothing to soften his countenance, leaving people to think he has quite the stoic, unfeeling disposition. taekwoon’s trust in his own powers, knowledge of his trade and quiet authority may lead people into thinking he’s quite comfortable on his high horse.

( honesty ) taekwoon tries to be and remain honest, choosing to stay silent if he can’t speak the truth. his honesty is sometimes blunt, and may hurt feelings, but to him being frank is more important than sparing one’s sensibilities.

( betrayal ) while seemingly a loyal man, taekwoon’s loyalties may change as he sees fit. his word is generally trustworthy, so long as you don’t expect him to align to your cause blindly. if the outcome of the alliance benefits taekwoon’s own ideals or does no harm to those he loves, he will remain loyal. should he be betrayed, ideals shift or a situation present itself that he must change his mind, he has no qualms betraying those whose word he has given, without remorse.

( patience ) ever since taekwoon was a little boy, he’s been quite patient. half of that patience was learnt, being an orphaned child, unloved and unwanted by biological parents and waiting for a new family to take interest. the hierarchy at the orphanage meant that taekwoon even had to wait to play with his favourite toys because it hadn’t been his turn. it had been difficult at first but as taekwoon grew older, part of the patience he bore started feeling more like a part of him. as difficult as waiting for toys to play had been, just as easy was it to go through the various learning steps at a moderate pace in the yong household or training time at the facility. taekwoon continues to enact patience in his line or work and relationships.

( purity ) there is an innocence to taekwoon that is not easily observed past the cold, calculated exterior. while the man’s genes were tampered with, his heart and intentions are generally pure - to the extent that even a childhood in the most traitorous and hostile environment did not yet taint the innocence which taekwoon carried since he was a boy. however, make no mistake in equating innocent with gullible or naive. taekwoon also has some winsome qualities which surface whenever he feels comfortable with someone.

( beauty ) taekwoon appreciates beauty in life, to the point that it has almost become an obsession. before the experiments, taekwoon never cared much for outward appearances in terms of things or people being pretty, but after the elven genes started to mutate his own, taekwoon has gained an affection for all that is outwardly beautiful too. he gets easily distracted when he sees things or being that he believes are beautiful in one way or another, and feels an ache to possess them.

AND EVEN MONSTERS CAN LEARN TO WEEP.

elven physiology.

taekwoon’s power allows him the same abilities and physical aspects of true elves, such as known in folklore and mythology. he is blessed with an enhanced condition that includes enhanced agility, dexterity, senses, reflexes and intelligence. he also possesses enhanced marksmanship, which increases accuracy on distant targets. as an elf, taekwoon is a figure of enhanced beauty. he possesses a level of grace, physical beauty, sense of style and social poise above that commonly found. elves age slower than humans do, and while taekwoon is not an actual elf, the skin he inhabits ages slower than usual to the extent that taekwoon appears much younger than he actually is ( decelerated aging ). his actual lifespan is that of a normal human. due to the migrating nature of elves, their connection to mother earth and their ability to channel nature, taekwoon can survive and adapt to any natural environment, being able to tolerate a wide range of temperatures and levels of moisture with little or no discomfort. due to this, taekwoon is mostly immune to natural contaminants. just like elves, taekwoon is in sync with the lingering magic in nature. his mutated elven genes allow him to detect magic in his surroundings and access it at will. taekwoon’s main magical powers are healing, potion creation and transmutation.

healing

taekwoon’s magical healing allows him to restore living organisms including humans to optimal health. this is done by touch or prolonged exposure to taekwoon’s presence, as he partially embodies the healing magic he uses and posesses a magical aura.

potion creation

taekwoon can create potions and ointments that can result in magical effects. the concoctions have magical properties that can heal the body, enhance physical abilities or bewitch the person who ingests the potion(s). some potions may come in different forms of liquid, such as jelly, stew, brew or soup, or can be made in solid form, such as pills or powder.

transmutation

this application allows taekwoon to transmute or alter the form or structure of non-human beings and objects into anything else, either completely or partially, permanently or temporarily.

LIMITATIONS :

there are several limitations to taekwoon’s abilities; some of which he is aware and some that still have to be revealed. due to taekwoon’s generally passive personality and purity of nature, his abilities are closely related to acts of healing. his abilities are therefore greatly defensive rather than offensive. taekwoon’s elven physiology does not come without limitations. while the researchers deemed he boy a perfect clone of what could be called a balance between a high elf and mythic elf, they failed to pay careful attention to how taekwoon’s human genes reacted to the sampled elven ones. a recreation can never be as perfect as the original.

taekwoon has limited control over his elven genes, resulting outward elven features that he can’t hide even in human form ( e.g. lightly pointed ears, a sheen of green over black eyes in certain lighting ). additionally, due to taekwoon’s enhanced senses, he is now left with extremely sensitive ears and may at time experience sensory overload. taekwoon’s enhanced agility, when moving fast in battles that take hours to fight, he will suffer from extreme exhaustion to the point that there is a risk of blackout during battles that take longer than 2 hours. the man’s enhanced intelligence is limited to his areas of expertise and what his elven genes dictate to be of importance ( e.g. battle strategy, healing properties, combining ingredients, chemistry/alchemy and related areas and not, for example, economics or psychology which is of no concern to taekwoon ). his genius intellect may also cause emotional and psychological effects, such as a growing apathy for those considered of lower intelligence, increased arrogance and confidence or even insanity, due to the knowledge taekwoon will inevitably collect over time. taekwoon’s enhanced beauty definitely has the ability to enchant people and exercises considerable social influence, it cannot directly control or subvert a person’s will. furthermore, taekwoon’s elven beauty may attract unwanted attention unless he downplays his appearance.

while taekwoon is immune against many contaminants, this power has a loophole which makes taekwoon extremely vulnerable against certain substances or plants. he is allergic to copper/brass materials and nettle, the letter causing anaphylaxis upon ingestion whereas the former will leave burns on his skin. taekwoon is also susceptible to alcohol and other drugs. ingestion of any kind of hallucinatory drug or alcohol will negate taekwoon’s enhanced senses until the effects wear off. while taekwoon has a near perfect ability to adapt to any environment, he is weak against extreme cold. because elves strive in a blossoming environment, extreme winters dull taekwoon’s magical powers unless he manages to keep himself warm. while sudden cold may be dealt with by taekwoon’s elven genes and rarely has a weakening effect on taekwoon’s powers, prolonged exposure to icy temperatures will weaken him as explained.

taekwoon’s healing power can heal external wounds (cuts, bruises, etc) which also include fractured bones and deeper burns regardless of severity. minor internal bleeding can also be healed, but take a longer time to heal. nerve damage can never be healed by taekwoon. major damage to internal organs cannot be healed by taekwoon nor can mental illnesses. however, prolonged exposure to taekwoon’s presence has been proven to ease worries to a degree and promotes positive thinking and motivation. taekwoon’s healing powers can prevent scarring but only if healing is done within the time span of 12 hours. furthermore, taekwoon can only heal non-fatal wounds, needs bodily contact for natural healing and cannot heal permanent injuries (such as spinal cord injuries, or genetic diseases) or abnormal injuries. taekwoon’s healing abilities may be painful for the patient. excessive healing in a short time span exhausts taekwoon.

potion making allows taekwoon to use his magic more effectively, and his potions generally have magical properties. his healing potions can reattach small lost limbs, such as fingers and toes, can speed up a healing process and cure a number of afflictions, diseases and poisons. taekwoon’s potions can increase courage and (to a degree) enhance one’s natural abilities (e.g. eyesight, hearing, or dexterity) but cannot augment one’s powers. taekwoon can create sleeping potions to improve rest or bottle poison but cannot bring back the dead, grant immortality or reverse the effects of ageing. the potions also cannot change appearance or induce love in the drinker. taekwoon’s potions are therefore generally used for their magical healing properties or defensive tactics. effects of taekwoon’s potions are usually temporary, unless they are specifically made to be permanent (e.g. reattachment of fingers). incorrect brewing makes the potions deadly, and they take many hours to complete depending on the effects the potions are supposed to have (e.g. sleeping potions take 6-8 hours, whereas a reattachment potion can take up to a week to finish). certain potions are specific about the method of ingestion or dosage, and instructions need to be followed carefully for the potions to work. it is never guaranteed that the same formula will work twice. taekwoon’s potions may have a hallucinatory effect or may be addictive to the intended.

taekwoon’s power of transmutation is the least stable magical application to the man’s elven physiology. taekwoon does not yet possess enough knowledge of his own magic to call upon this ability at will. he cannot generate or manipulate his power of transmutation, but is aware of it happening usually in moments of great stress or on the battlefield/ in a dangerous fight. transmutation is a defensive ability, and taekwoon can transmute weapons - or items used as weapons - that are wielded against him, his fellow warriors or those he loves dear in moments of heightened emotional distress. this ability is limited to only items or non-human beings (e.g. dogs, or snakes used in attack) used as weapons, which may explain the unstable nature of this application. additionally, taekwoon can only transmute the weapons into non-destructive items of nature such as flowers, weeds, pebbles, small amounts of water and the like.

THREAT LEVEL TWO. 00+ BRWN, 09+ RSLNC, 05+ INTLCT, 02+ WLLPWR, 03+ FGHTNG, 05+ SPD

#avt: follow #krp #kpop rp #jung taekwoon #tw: experimentation #tw: death #tw: blood #tw: violence

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