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teddy06writes · 4 years ago

Note

nonono I need more ANGST part 3 for out of his grasp/out of their grasp were reader comes back as a ghost like Ghostbur but remembers bad memories so she doesn’t remember Dream or George

Out of Their Grasp

{THIS IS THE NEW UPDATED VERSION BECAUSE APARENTLY THE FIRST VERSION WASN”T ANGSTY ENOUGH}

{real talk though I thought maybe I could change this to be more angsty cause I didn’t think the ghost thing would work}

requested by this anon: “hey hey I was wondering if you could do dream x George x reader fantasy/royal au (bc I just read "for his hand" and I love it so much!!) where reader and dream go to battle but only dream returns from it. and he has to tell George that reader died. the more angst the better😝💅”

and also this one: “will there be a part 2 of For His Hand? It’s so good, i loved it!”

{Technically you don’t have to read part one but I would recommend it because this one takes place in the same universe}

Dream x George x reader

trigger warnings: swearing, yelling, major character death, aGnSt

premise: war breaks out near the borders of the SMP, you and Dream are sent ahead of the royal party to the front lines in an attempt to stop any further battles until a peace can be reached when disaster strikes, leaving your partners to deal with the repercussions.

{dude I’m like manically laughing right now}

(y/n/n)- your nickname

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“It was just skirmishes, here and there for the last few weeks,” Sam gestured to a few spots near the northern boarder on the map spread out across the table, before pointing to another in the center of the rest, “But then, yesterday there was a huge attack on the villages, and our military bases in this valley.”

You glanced around the room, from person to person, gauging there reactions.

George had visibly stiffened in his seat, and behind him Dream seemed equal tense.

“Have we taken any measures to fight back?” Sapnap asked impatiently.

“How bad are the damages?” George asked, ignoring him.

Eret looked down at the report they’d been given, “There seems to have been more pillaging than raiding, they were breaking into peoples house, causing general destruction and looting, when our forces attempted to stop them they began to fight. All in all 30 of ours were killed and there was an estimated 10,000 in damages.”

George frowned, as Niki spoke up, “We should pay the people reparation's and help them with any reconstruction that needs to be done.”

Many people nodded, but next to you Sapnap was still unhappy, “Are we doing anything about the invaders? We cannot just sit here and allow them to attack the people!”

“Pushing, pushing.” You muttered.

The king looked at him for a long moment, before turning to Callahan, the scribe, “Attempt to negotiate a peace. I don’t want anymore bloodshed to curse this land.”

The man beside you groaned, and you were quick to elbow him in the side and Sam ended the meeting and everyone began to file out of the room, hissing, “I don’t know how they do things where you’re from but that is no way to behave in an advisory meeting. Next time you pull that shit you won’t be allowed back to one.”

-You had taken the new coming warrior on as a sort of apprentice after he’d first arrived at the palace, and it was clear the change of pace wasn’t something he was ready for-

“They can’t just stand by! The King is a fool if he thinks a peace can be reached like this!”

You glared at him. “The King is no fool.”

“You only say that out of obligation.” Sapnap fired back.

You recoiled, burned, before crossing your arms and starting out of the room, “You may be a trained mercenary but you haven’t the faintest idea as to how to hold yourself among this crowd. It will be the death of you.”

He followed you back toward your office, listening as you continued, “King George is a good and just man, to say that he is a fool is to say the sun is square. He has wiped this kingdom clean of many years of bloodshed.

“The Kings advisors, and cabinet are kind, respectable people, you must remember to hold your tongue unless spoken too, and never say anything brash as you have done now, lest you make a greater fool of yourself.”

He huffed, “If I must stay silent in those meetings than how can I get my point across? Sending a messege to the enemy through force may be the only way!”

“Now you sound like Tommy, just as foolhardy and headstrong as the child,” You pushed the door to your office open, “I’m sure that Technoblade agrees with you, though he knows better than to speak freely.”

“If he agrees with me than perhaps it’s the right move.”

You turned to look at him quizzically, finally saying, “A wise king does not seek out war, no matter what his knights advise.”

Sapnap turned, “Then the lot of them are fools.”

“I have told you once to never disrespect the king, I suggest you don’t do it again. This land has seen it’s share of unjust rulers, be thankful you have not come here under worse authority.”

~~ That night, when the palace grew quiet, and the sky dark, you found yourself back in Dream’s quarters, an overtired, overstressed George having wedged himself between you two and refusing to move.

You sighed as Dream ran a hand through your sleeping partners hair, “He’s anxious.”

“I mean, can you blame him? War may be on the horizon.” Dream murmured.

“I meant even now- in the time of sleep. I think Sapnap is just adding fuel to the fire.”

Dream sighed, “If he has another outburst like that-”

“He’ll be cast out,” You nodded, “I know. He just needs to be willing to learn the way things go around here. In time he will learn.”

Your boyfriend chuckled to himself, “Fucking hotshot.”

“I think you’d like him, if you were able to spend more time with him.” You smiled.

“Well someone had to go snatch him up as an apprentice!”

“Well it was him or Ranboo, and Ranboo is far too- forgetful, for this sort of thing. I’d’ve had Tubbo but he and Tommy are a package set an you took ‘em.”

“What about Purpled?”

You rolled your eyes, “He started an apprenticeship with Punz ages ago.”

“SHHhhhhhhh, ‘m tryin’ to sleep.” George muttered, burying his face in your shoulder.

In the darkness of the chamber you could barley make out Dream’s eyes sparkling as he took your hand, “Course love, course.”

As the weeks continued the damages on the northern boarder only seemed to grow, the new invaders claiming three of the villages there own.

There was yet another large attack on the town that had been damaged the first time, this time a direct threat left etched on the walls, ‘You have made my people suffer, and now yours shall feel the same’

“Militia, both local and our own soldiers have taken it upon themselves to fight back, almost a hundred lived lost to each side.” The silence in the room grew deafening as Sam finished reading his report, not even Sapnap daring to speak.

“Your Majesty?” Bad hazarded, “What is our next course of action?”

George frowned, glancing around the room, “Peace is still the priority. Maybe- maybe we call a ceasefire, I could meet with there ruler-”

“No,” Dream interrupted, drawing all eyes to him, “It would be too dangerous. How do we know they can be trusted to lay down there arms?”

George shot him a look, “How do we know that we haven’t done anything to provoke them? Whatever we have done wrong we need to fix it. If we can work something out then people will be spared on both sides.”

“Shall we arrange for a ceasefire?” Eret asked.

The King nodded as Wilbur spoke up, “We could set up a meeting place, on neutral ground, possibly similar to the holy lands, so there would be no worry of a security breech.”

Dream seemed to relax at this, and then eyes were turned to you and Sapnap, representing the royal guard, “We can, but even so we should stay vigilant, perhaps send a group ahead with the runners to see too it.” You said, noting the gratitude on Dream’s face, as well as the slight annoyance on George’s.

“Well I see no one better to attend to the King’s safety than you,” Bad said, “You shall go with the party, and Technoblade with you, Sapnap can remain here to take over your day to day duties.”

The man in question quietly shot you a pleading look, at which you sighed, “With all do respect I think Sapnap could be better severing to the crown if he joined the running party.”

Bad glanced around to the others, looking for any objections before shrugging, “We can find someone else to do the work. So that’ll be you, Technoblade, Sapnap, and we can send the usual scouting party, and Sam shall go with again.”

You sighed, tracing an absent pattern on George’s side, listening to Dream’s ramble about how dangerous the idea that had been decided on at the meeting was.

“Finding peace is the priority, you can’t can’t change that.” George mumbled.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous!” Dream protested.

“It’ll be fine, We’ll have a perimeter set up with guards and everything. I’ll make sure none of them can even get near him with such intent.” You yawned.

The blonde huffed, “That just makes me more worried.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Your hand blindly sought his, “I’m going to do everything in my power to keep the ceasefire from being broken.”

“I know.” Was the only quiet response you received.

The next morning found you suiting up and heading out to the stables to tack up your horse. Techno was already down there, idly chatting with Phil as he readied Carl for the journey, and out in the courtyard you could see Sapnap talking to two men.

“Good morning, (y/n)!” Phil chirped, waving your direction.

“Morning Phil.” You moved down the row, reaching out and letting Beckerson nuzzle into your palm.

After getting your horse cared for and saddled, the rest of the party had headed out of the stables as your partners entered.

George took your hand, “Don’t start any more trouble.”

“Sounds like your talking to Dream not me.” You chuckled.

“Hey!” Dream protested.

“I’m not wrong!” You teased.

George rolled his eyes, quickly pulling you in for a kiss, “Make things good for me to be out there.”

“Stay out of trouble.” Dream advised, pulling you away from George to kiss you himself.

“You underestimate me.” You smirked, grabbing Bekerson’s reigns.

Dream rolled his eyes as you started to lead the horse out of the stable, calling, “And stay safe!”

“I’ll see you in five days!” You chuckled, heading out of the stables and quickly mounting your horse, kicking at his sides to catch up with the others.

~~ The last few days had been spent anxiously waiting, and now the journey to the norther board was coming to a close.

Dream rode alongside the carriage, eyes following the strange trail of smoke on the horizon; something was wrong, he could feel it.

The quiet, almost calm of the morning was slowly being cut through by a growing noise, and then finally shattered as one of the runners sent ahead to signal their arrival came crashing through the trees looking panicked.

“What’s going on?” Punz asked.

“They attacked! They broke the ceasefire!”

Dream’s brain surged with panic as he turned to where George and his advisors were starting to climb out of the carriage asking why they had stopped, “Turn around! It isn’t safe here! Go! Punz! Tommy! Ponk! Get them out of here!”

Before he could even stop to see if they were following his orders he was rushing forward down the road, urging Spirit to go faster as the road widened into the village.

Dream was met with nothing but chaos, the royal insignia’s on the tents set up in the field were aflame, and the clashing of swords filled his ears as the royal army and the few commoners who could fought back against the pillaging people.

“About time you showed up!” Sapnap yelled from halfway across the field, “We could use some fucking help!”

“No shit!” Dream yelled back, dismounting and unsheathing his sword.

Almost immediately another person came barley towards him, throwing him into combat.

He cut his way across the field, taking down people here and there, still searching the carnage for you.

Eventually he made it to where Sapnap had just disarmed and knocked out another opponent, “Where are they?”

His eyes danced around the wreckage, “Could be anywhere, saw ‘em trying to get the townspeople out of the way.”

Dream cursed, running off the direction of the village, calling you name.

The fighting continued, the addition of the extra royal guardsmen helping turn the tide of the battle, though Dream still couldn’t locate you on the battle field.

The invaders, or what was left of there battalion began to retreat, but still Dream could find no sign of you, the now all too quiet valley erupted into noise as another skirmish broke out.

Taking off at a sprint he made it up the hill to find you locked in combat with another warrior.

You panted, throwing up you shield to block another strike from his axe before shoving forward and swing your sword at his spear wielding hand.

He wasn’t excepting this, and the spear clatter out of his hand, the shock on his face giving you enough momentum to keep pushing forward, throwing attack after attack at the man as he edged backward.

You had just managed to shove him to the ground when a cry broke your attention.

“(Y/N)!!”

You turned to see Dream, smiling, words starting to form on your lips as a spear suddenly drove through your chest.

“NO!!!!!” Dream shrieked, charging forward and quickly slashing at the mans throat before turning to where you had fallen in the grass.

“T-that one was your fault.” You mumbled as he did his best to pull your shaking body into his arms, “You-ou had t-to go distract-ing me.”

“I know,” tears flooded his eyes, “It’s gonna be okay, I’m gonna get help.”

You did your best to smile through your fear, “What would G-George say if he saw you here cuddling m- m- me without him? Huh?”

“(Y/n)....”

“Bad time for a joke I guess,” you shaky voice was disrupted by a painful cough wracking your body, “Never real-really planned on being r-r-ran through with a spear this morning.”

“It’s gonna be okay! It’s- it’s gonna be okay!” Dream desperately pushed your hair out of your face, head whipping around to where the royal soldiers were beginning to regroup, “WE- I need a medic! Please! We need a medic!”

It was the first time you’d ever heard him sound so distraught, gently you reached up to his face, “Dream- Clay, leave it alone, they won’t be able to- to do anythi-ng.”

You coughed again as he turned back to you, “Don’t say that! Don’t say that!”

“It’s just my time d-d-darling,” You gasped at the pain brought by him trying to pull you closer, “You- you gotta let go.”

“NO! You’re not gonna die! You’re not gonna leave! I won’t let you!”

“I d- don’t have your permission to d-die?” The spots floating in your vision began to grow larger, blocking out spot of his face, and the sky.

“No! You don’t! You’re not leaving! I’m not letting you!” He said desperately.

“You’ve- g-got too...”

He glared down through the valley, barking out, “I said I need a medic! Someone! Please! They need help!”

There were people hurrying up the hill now, not that you could see, as Dream continued to yell.

The spots began to grow even bigger, merging together until darkness fully overtook you and you slipped from there grasp, “I’m sorry...”

Dream tore his gaze from the approaching medical team, looking down at your now limp body, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no-”

“You can’t leave! You- your not allowed to leave us! You- you can’t- I- I didn’t give you permission to die!”

He blubbered, still trying to pull you closer to him, as if he held you tighter you wouldn’t have slipped away.

“You can’t go! I didn’t say you could go! You can’t leave! You can’t.....”

Then people were pulling you away from him, and Sapnap was pulling him up, and leading him away.

“Your highness, news of the attack on the boarder has returned.”

George stopped his anxious pacing a Wilbur led in a scarily calm Technoblade and a visibly shaking Dream into the room, Sapnap still with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What happened? Where’s (y/n)?”

Dream started to shake more at the mention of your name, and Techno stepped forward, “(y/n)- died in combat two days ago.”

George stayed silent, so he continued, “They died a hero’s death defending our kingdom.”

The king waved them away, “Out, please.”

Wilbur nodded, and quickly Sapnap and Technoblade followed him out of the room, leaving Dream to slowly move toward George, pulling him into his arms, tears coming from both men.

“It was my fault. They were fighting- an- and I distracted them.”

“You- you what?” George croaked.

“I wasn’t thinking,” He said quietly, ducking his head as George pulled away, “Th- they died in my arms George!”

“Wh- what have you done?”

Dream looked at him in shock, “What do you mean?”

“Tell me what happened.” It was a command, said in a way Dream had never heard directed at him.

“I got there- there was fighting, when the fighting died down I still couldn’t find them- then I heard another fight- on the ridge, I got up there, and It seemed like they had won, I yelled there name- and-” He broke off, barley muffling a sob.

“You all but killed them yourself.” George muttered.

“I didn’t- th- I- George.” Dream grappled for words.

“You killed them.”

“I didn’t! George I know it’s my fault, but-”

The King just shook his head, turning and silently stalking out of the room.

The castle seemed to stay in mourning for weeks, the kings council having to take over as the king stayed shut up in his chambers, refusing to talk to anyone.

The King’s Knight became more and more vocal during meetings, providing insight on how to get back at the enemy, amplifying Sapnap’s voice.

Then, as plans were being finalized, Dream was met by another figure as he sat in front of your grave.

“You think this will make up for what you’ve done?” Georges voice was horse, rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in days, though still laced with the same venom as when he’d found out.

Dream nodded, remaining quiet as he traced the hilt of his blade.

“Tomorrow then?”

Again Dream nodded, looking down at the copy of the note that had been sent to the enemy:

‘Holy water cannot stop me now, a thousand armies couldn’t keep me out. I don’t want your money, I don’t want your crown, see I’ve come to burn your kingdom down’

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #dreamwastaken x reader #georgenotfound x reader #dream x george x reader #teddy06 writes

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

focused.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thanks to kira for helping me through the last dregs of this!! you’re amazing!! As promised, here’s lo-fi/mayhem in our ajf world. as (usually) usual, no context required to enjoy, but it’s pretty fun over here!

words: 6.4k warnings: language, canon-typical injury/violence, everyone’s mad and everyone’s worried!

summary: “knowing when to fight is just as important as knowing how.” terry goodkind, faith of the fallen. au!may 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? updated: february 1st, 2021

“Don’t get comfortable. There will be time to debrief on the plane.” Hotch’s eyes are trained on the monitor, where grainy security footage plays and replays an exceedingly casual murder in an underground subway station.

Reid, entering behind you, squints at the monitor. “Where are we headed?”

“New York.”

Rossi advances on the monitor. “Five shootings in two weeks. It’s about time we got the call.”

You watch as Hotch replays the tape again. “Why the delay?”

Aaron doesn’t answer you, but rather addresses Derek. “I want to take Garcia with us. Hopefully they’ll give us access to their surveillance systems.”

He’s distracted, almost absent-minded. It’s odd.

“What do we know?” You try again with another question, and Emily dips her chin - she had the same one.

Hotch pauses the video, turning toward the rest of you - loosely circled around the table. “All the killings are mid-day. Single gunshot to the head with a .22.”

“Any witnesses?” As always, JJ looks for somewhere to go as soon as wheels are down.

She really doesn’t get paid enough.

There’s something odd in her voice and temperament this morning, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Now that you’re really awake and looking around, everyone's a little jumpy this morning. It doesn't help that the two most grounded people on the team are the most absent-minded of you all.

“No.”

Spencer pipes up. “.22-caliber pistol’s only 152 decibels. New York streets and subways are routinely well over a hundred.”

“So,” you ask, “could it be such that possible witnesses don’t even clock it before the unsub’s already on their way?”

Spencer nods.

Derek shifts beside you. “They sound like mob hits.”

Aaron dips his chin, but says, “Except none of them have ties to organized crime.”

The rest of the facts and questions fly past you - no connection between victims, no communication or contact, surveillance footage that shows next to nothing, an establishment that the unsub is bold and well-trained.

Seems completely random.

Spencer voices your next thought. “Son of Sam all over again.”

The grim look on Aaron’s face tells you all you need to know.

+++

Derek, Penelope, and Emily shoot the shit as they get on the plane, but you notice JJ staring forlornly out the window. You resolve to discover what that’s about as soon as possible. Having her down was odd…

But she has been acting strange lately, not just today.

You sit beside Hotch, across from Reid as Rossi flips through photos of the victims.

Spencer makes astute observations about the continued pattern of, well, no pattern at all, while Hotch provides some remarks here and there.

One of them catches your attention. “It’s a joint FBI-NYPD taskforce?”

Yeah, because those always go over so well.

“Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office. She’s running point on the case and called me directly.” He calls out to JJ, who then informs the pilot you’re all ready to get wheels up. “Kate’s starting to butt heads with the local detectives and wanted a fresh set of eyes.”

There’s something in his voice you can’t place. History, maybe?

“Joyner, I know her,” Derek says. “She’s a Brit, right?”

Hotch shrugs. “Well, dual citizenship. Her father’s British, her mother’s American. She was a big deal at Scotland Yard before coming to the Bureau.”

You look over at him.

That’s a ridiculous amount of knowledge for someone who doesn’t work in the same state, Aaron.

“I heard she can be a little bit of a pain in the ass.” It’s a test. The defiant tip of Derek’s chin tells you as much.

Hotch takes the bait. “I didn’t think so.”

You can’t help it. “You know her?”

“We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard.”

You look at Emily, who shrugs.

“And she’s good?” You wouldn’t call Dave’s tone skeptical, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was another test. He’s a lot subtler than Morgan.

Hotch looks back at Dave. “I think we’re lucky to have her.”

+++

You all step out of the elevator, and you stay closest to JJ. Her absent-mindedness had yet to leave her, and as the person closest to her age, you were doing your best to support her with your presence alone.

JJ leans toward you as you approach the center of the office. “Is it just me or does she look -”

“- exactly like Haley?” You finish JJ’s thought. “Yeah.”

There’s a little smile you can see on Aaron’s face, just touching his profile. Agent Joyner has one too, and it makes you feel...something.

Whatever it is, it isn’t comfortable.

“Kate.”

“Aaron. How’ve you been?”

You take another glance at JJ. She seems to have the same thought as you.

First name basis? How close are they?

“Well, thank you. This is my team.” He introduces you all one by one, and you attempt to plaster a polite smile on your face, just like everyone else. Derek’s the only one who doesn’t make an effort, and you tap the side of his shoe with your foot.

Penelope gets settled right away, and the NYPD detectives approach shortly after that. Of course, they start with a snide remark at Spencer. Your hackles rise, and you take a little huff of a breath.

Calm down.

Kate introduces Detectives Brustin and Cooper. Dave gets right to the point, doing his best to establish baseline rapport.

It doesn’t work.

You don’t notice that you’ve crept closer to Aaron throughout the proceedings, now standing just off his shoulder, next to Emily, until Kate leans into him. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

The crumpling of your brow is quick, and you hope nobody noticed. Emily’s head, whirling around to look at Derek, is far less subtle.

“Sure.”

Emily tracks back to JJ, who looks confused. In a hushed and suggestive tone, she tells her, “They...liaised when she was at Scotland Yard.”

You hide your laugh in your shoulder, covering your movement with an attempt to adjust your backpack.

Derek steps up behind you. “Let me get that for you, kiddo.”

You look up at him, hard-pressed to keep your mirth to yourself. A little smile plays at the edge of his lips as well. He turns you around when he’s done pretending to be helpful, holding you in the little huddle that develops between the rest of you and the NYPD detectives.

Derek’s eyes keep flickering to Kate’s office, where she and Hotch chat informally and perhaps even fondly, to an extent. Heat rises in your cheeks.

Get over yourself.

+++

You attempt to ignore the sheer amount of time Aaron spends looking over Kate’s shoulder behind her desk. Tearing your eyes from her office window, you return to your task.

The whiteboard marker in your hand is seeing lots of use as you follow Spencer’s instructions, tracing lines between key points, making notes, etc. Cooper’s banter with Emily puts a little smile on your face.

“Anti-geographical profiling? Now you wonder why we’re so skeptical?” Cooper’s voice is full of play, but there’s a very real concern behind it.

Emily laughs, but then explains, “This unsub’s organized. He strikes at the same time of day, he knows where the cameras are placed. That means he’s doing his own surveillance.”

You offer your two cents in support of Spencer, who outlines the difference between need-motivated killers and organized killers. Cooper looks a little impressed by the time you add, “So, essentially, we need to look everywhere this unsub isn’t to find where he lives. He has a comfort zone, and we just have to find it.”

“What are we finding?” Hotch and Kate roll out of her office, and he settles beside you, peering at the map.

You look over your shoulder at him. “He’s organized, so we’ve redirected to an anti-geographical profile.”

“Keep looking.” He turns on his heel and walks out the door, Kate trailing behind him with a confidence that tightens your jaw.

Maybe Derek was right. Maybe she is a pain in the ass.

+++

You keep your eyes up as Rossi and Hotch inspect the body on the busy New York street. Your mind wanders to a lecture at the academy, the voice of the late Jennifer Shepard echoing through your head.

“Always watch the watchers.”

But then again, she’d always backed it up with another story about “the man with all the rules” to undermine the rules in question. The stories did more than make you laugh - they helped you remember.

“See anything?” Hotch looks up, not at you, but you know you have his attention.

You shake your head, your eyes still on the crowd. “Nothing obvious.”

He hums, and tunes back in as Derek says, “From the placement of that camera, odds are the only view they’re gonna get is the back of his head.”

“Let’s not be too quick to decide what we do or don’t have.” Kate meets Derek’s eyes and stares him down. You bristle, but Hotch turns just the smallest bit toward you, reminding you to behave.

The detective makes another snide remark as Kate brushes past the rest of you.

Derek turns toward Hotch, and you step back, giving them the illusion of privacy. “You mind telling me why I’m catching attitude from her?”

Because you’re better at your job? Because you don’t have a chip on your shoulder the size of the Atlantic? Because you probably haven’t maybe slept with our unit chief, maybe?

“FBI brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn’t bring this case home, she’s gonna be reassigned. And you are at the top of the list to replace her.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Aaron squints a little, but his words are deeply genuine. “Why should you be surprised? You’re good at your job. People notice that.”

He’s right.

“What happened to the Bureau patting itself on the back from stealing her away from Scotland Yard?”

Hotch shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t know. Politics here are different. And you can see she doesn’t pull punches.” He walks away, and Derek looks over his shoulder at you.

With a little smile, you say, “He’s right, you know.”

“You’re a terrible ass-kisser, kid.”

Nevertheless, he taps your shoulder with his knuckle and you both make your way to Rossi, examining a tarot card.

+++

“We’ve got more than one unsub.” Hotch’s tone is more than defeated, and you peer further over his shoulder, your fingers pressing lightly into the back of his arm for balance.

Rossi circles the desk. “So, we have more than one unsub. What does that tell us?”

“Most teams stick together,” Spencer says. “Ng and Lake. The Krays. Bittaker and Norris. They don’t usually kill separately.”

Derek is next, offering, “Could be some kind of gang initiation.”

Emily and JJ volley about gang operations and local task forces for a moment before Kate asks. “Do you think we have enough for a working profile?”

You startle a little. She’s closer than you thought, on the other side of Hotch. You lean around him, the soft wool of his suit sleeve still under your fingers. “Broad strokes, maybe. Nothing specific, yet.”

Hotch makes a few assignments, but you’re focused on Derek. As you suspected, he has an idea. “I think we should get out on the streets.”

Also unsurprising, Kate has an immediate rebuttal. “I brought you here to create a profile.”

“Which we can give in the morning, and they can share it with the afternoon shift.”

She huffs. “We’ve allocated every extra man we have.” You don’t miss the warning glance Hotch shoots Derek or the way Derek ignores it. “This is New York City. It’s not like adding a few more people is gonna blanket the city.”

“I understand it’s a long shot. But these guys, they hit at mid-day. We could target ingress and egress to particular neighborhoods. Position us near express stops - 14th, 42nd, 59th -”

“Morgan. It’s not your call.” Hotch’s rebuke is harsh, surprising.

You inhale sharply and tuck your lip between your teeth, retracting your hand.

This is gonna be a long case.

+++

Thankfully, you’re all headed back to the hotel in fairly short order. Hotch has all but ordered Kate to bed, and you try not to let your thoughts stray too far in response.

Spencer’s eyes wander up, and you follow them. “JJ -”

Will?

You’d only met him once but like him well enough. He was polite, pleasant, and even funny. Seeing as you hadn’t heard much about him in the last few months, you assumed JJ had broken it off.

Guess not.

She turns. “Will.”

“Hey,” he says, “took a shot and flew to D.C. but it didn’t work. I figured I’d train up to New York - only a few more hours.”

Hotch looks a little surprised, which probably means you do too. He extends his hand. “Detective.”

Will takes it. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. I know you’re working. But, um…” He drops his voice. “I can’t stand you being on this case and me not being here - not with what’s going on.”

You look at JJ, who looks a little uncomfortable, and then Hotch, who looks a little confused. Aaron’s the first one to speak, and you’re more than a little touched by the concern in his voice as he addresses JJ and JJ alone. “Is there a problem?”

Will dips his head, and you know he’s disappointed.

What the hell is going on?

She turns toward the team. With a little laugh, she says, “I’m pregnant.”

Hotch freezes, and you step close to him as Emily congratulates her. Will extends his hand and Hotch shakes it again. “I’ve asked JJ to marry me.”

JJ whirls around, and there’s a warning in her voice. “Will.”

“We’re, ah, working out some kinks.”

“We’ll, um” Aaron says, coming back to himself, “give you both some privacy.” He nods and steps away. You follow close behind him, but you fall back as JJ hops after him.

“Hotch -”

There’s something in his voice you’ve never heard before when he replies. “JJ, you could have told me.” He almost sounds...hurt? Your brow crumples, and you try to stay out of his eye line as they chat.

Pin that for later...

“I know.”

“I understand if you need to take some time.”

“No, I want to be here.” She’s firm in her conviction, and you can’t say you’d be any different if you were in any similar situation - injury, illness, otherwise.

“Okay. Seven AM.”

She nods and turns back to Will while Hotch continues toward the elevators. The rest of the team passes ahead of you, leaping into the open lift. Aaron hangs back and you follow his lead, letting the doors close.

“Are you okay?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Just unexpected.”

Taking a little leap, you step close to him in a show of camaraderie. He’d never let on, but he needs contact sometimes. You might even go so far as to say the poor man is touch-starved.

He wraps his arm around you, and you bite back a pleased smile, feeling more than a little chuffed. You examine his profile. “What’s on your mind?”

His shrug says many things. His sigh says more.

“Yeah,” you say. “I know.”

+++

“We’re not having that discussion, right now.” Hotch’s cutoff is flat, and it shoots irritation through you.

Your brow furrows, and you sputter for a second before turning on him. “What’s with you? That’s like the sixth time you’ve shut me down today.”

Hotch opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Kate’s voice chirps from behind you.

“Are all your younger agents this insubordinate, Aaron, or is it limited to this one?”

You grit your teeth, and blatantly ignore the apology blossoming in Hotch’s eyes as you say, “Excuse me, sir.” You turn your head, not quite looking at Kate. “Agent Joyner.” You brush past Hotch, almost shoulder-checking him, and leave the room. The door shuts loudly behind you.

Derek looks up, and you wave him off as he rises to follow.

Throwing the stairway door open, you fly down two flights of stairs before sitting heavily upon the landing. You throw your blazer off, the heat under the fabric only fueling your anger.

Your hands cover your face and you manage three deep breaths before tears press in at your eyes. Molten humiliation courses through you, your face hot and hands shaking.

It’s not fair to expect Kate to understand the rapport you have with Hotch, why you can push him inexplicably further than the rest of your team. It’s not fair, but you still feel betrayed by Hotch’s accommodation of her insecurity and Kate’s own ridiculousness.

The lack of sleep doesn’t help.

A few relevant thoughts regarding the profile float through your head and you pin them for later.

The door opens two floors above, and you hear Aaron’s familiar footsteps hesitate before they slowly descend to your level. You keep your face pressed into your hands as he sits beside you, resting his arms on his knees.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you today.”

You sniff, but don’t answer. He waits for you, a few minutes passing in silence, but you don’t have anything to say.

“I’ve done my best to make Kate feel supported, but I -” he huffs, and you know he’s working hard to properly articulate his feelings. You appreciate it. “I’ve failed both you and Morgan in the process. I’ve explained the situation to him, but I didn’t speak to you before I…” He trails off. “For that, I’m sorry.”

You drop your hands from your face, wiping at the evidence of your anger. “Just...remember who’s on your team, would you?”

“I do.”

“Then -” You throw your arms up and huff at him, his response inspiring a new wave of irritation in your chest. “Then why the fuck are you riding my ass about this shit today? You haven’t taken a single one of my ideas, and all but one has been really good.”

He sighs. “I know. I also know that you can take it. I trust you to be resilient in difficult political situations such as this one. I don’t have that same trust in Kate right now.” He pauses and you watch his left thumb worry a track back and forth over the knuckle of his middle finger. Your eyes wander to the barely-noticeable tan line where his wedding ring used to sit. With a start, you realize you didn’t notice its absence and you don’t know when he took it off. When he speaks again, your eyes snap back to your feet. “Your ability to step away instead of rightfully lashing out at Kate speaks to your excellence and professionalism in your role, and shows me my faith is not misplaced.”

You look at him, finding his brown eyes soft and apologetic. “Thanks.”

He grabs your blazer off the ground and stands. He straightens his suit jacket, offering you a hand. You take it and rise, using the back of your other hand to rid yourself entirely of tears.

With gentle hands, he slips your blazer over your shoulders, fixing the collar and brushing debris off the back. You let him fuss, knowing all the while his concern is another apology.

“It’s far too organized to be just organized crime, by the way,” you inform him casually, as if remarking on the weather.

He looks almost startled. “What?��

You tug on his arm and take the stairs two at a time back up to Kate’s floor. “Look.” He follows you as you burst back through both sets of doors into the conference room, stepping in front of Kate for access to the map. “We have more than one unsub. They’ve attacked different neighborhoods across Manhattan - all different demographic and socio-economic backgrounds. They’re trying to send a message, and each attack is a play to build their audience. If anything, our presence tells them that it’s working.”

A look of realization crosses Hotch’s face, and he presses a hand to your shoulder, his fingertips squeezing just a little before he lets go. “Well done.” He turns to Kate. “We’re ready to update the working profile.”

You keep your eyes trained on Aaron, but Kate’s clenched jaw doesn’t escape your notice.

+++

“Focused? From where I’m standing, your focus is on her.”

It’s finally come to a head. Derek has absolutely lost it, rightfully so, in the middle of the federal building, while Hotch tries to keep the peace, and Kate looks appropriately chastised.

You reach for Derek’s elbow with gentle fingers, but he shakes you off.

“Take a walk. Now.” Aaron’s tone is nothing to trifle with, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

Fuck.

“Derek. C’mon.” You yank once on his sleeve and lead him out the doors. He’s pissed, almost vibrating with energy.

You look over your shoulder exactly once to check on Aaron, who leans heavily over a desk. When he looks up, you turn your head before he can meet your gaze.

Yes, it’s a punishment. Yes, he knows it. He'll get your attention once he’s earned it again.

Derek cools off a little once you get outside, and he leads the way to the hotel bar. You’re sure you'd be better off returning to your post upstairs, but he needs you more than anyone else right now.

You also don’t trust yourself to be in the same room as Aaron - the likelihood of losing your usually-endless patience with him is dangerously high. At this rate, you’d get yourself a first-class ticket to Suspension City - at worst ending with your removal from the unit.

There was no way on this green earth that you’d end up off the unit of Hotch had any say, but your exhausted brain was only giving you the worst-case scenario at the moment.

He sits heavily on a barstool and orders a Stella. You don’t comment on his choice to drink while on the clock. You take a water, and wait for him to speak. He doesn’t touch his beer.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

“Of course.”

“You should go back.”

Looking up, you see Rossi walking through the doors. “Alright, but you’re not getting out of anything.” By the time you’ve finished, Dave is at Derek’s other side, getting comfortable. You press a hand to Derek’s shoulder, leaving them alone.

You take a few deep breaths before returning to the proper floor. Kate is in her office with Hotch over her shoulder.

He looks up when you walk in. How’s Morgan?

“He’ll be back.”

+++

You reach Emily with Derek and JJ, and she looks flustered.

“Are you okay?” Derek takes stock of Emily, but you figure out there’s nothing to know about Cooper.

Emily walks through the moments before and during the shooting, growing increasingly intense. You watch her as Derek digs and digs - finding the right questions for the answers she wants to share.

“Wait,” you ask. “You think he deliberately shot someone where he could be caught?”

“What if he did?” Her eyes are wild, angry. “What if they chose this spot because we were here?”

“What are you thinking?” Derek leans forward, searching her face for answers.

She enumerates her points. “He had no ID on him. He waited until we caught up to him. He was strangely calm- it’s almost like suicide by cop.”

“Why?” You hear yourself ask. “Why would he do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to make us think everything was finished.”

You look at Derek. He looks back at you.

“We need to walk back through this profile.”

Just then, Aaron and Kate dip under the police tape and make a beeline for Rossi and Reid. Dave looks grim and you can’t hear what they’re saying, but you’re sure they’ve come to the same conclusion as you.

Terrorism.

+++

“So much for theory.” Dave uncrosses his arms and the room leaps into action.

Kate grabs her blazer and looks at Aaron. “We need to hit the ground running.”

“I'm gonna head to the hospital,” Emily says, already headed for the door. “I'll check on Cooper and brief detective Brustin.”

“Good.” Aaron makes the rest of the assignments. “Dave, will you go talk to the commissioner?” He assigns you and Derek to Homeland Security for a briefing, and you grab your things. You will be Derek’s shadow for the duration, and you’re more than happy you’re with him.

So why does something feel...wrong?

You look at Aaron, and his brow is furrowed. He meets your eyes. What’s wrong?

I don’t know.

His mouth presses into a thin line. This first, then that.

You nod and he starts talking again. “Kate and I will go talk to the mayor and we'll meet back here as soon as possible.”

“One advantage that we have right now is that they don't know we know they're watching.”

For once, you agree with Kate. It’s about damn time.

+++

You get into the car with Derek and head toward the DHS field office.

“I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve done well.”

Smiling a little, you thank him. “Though I do think we’ve pushed Hotch to the absolute limit this week, between the two of us.”

He rolls his eyes, speeding down the shockingly barren New York streets. “If one of us isn’t, who is?”

“Rossi.”

You both freeze as an explosion goes off. You don’t know where it is, but Derek turns around with a spectacular screech of tires.

“Derek...What -”

“We’re going back. That’s not good. Let’s go.” He guns the engine, and you’re on your way back to the federal building with sirens blaring.

His phone rings and he checks the caller ID as he answers. “Yeah. I'm still here.” He looks at you. “We’re still here.”

“Yes, you are. Thank God.”

Garcia.

“I'm almost back at the federal building. What the hell's going on?”

“Alright, we're going over the closed-circuit footage right now.” You can hear her faintly through the phone, and he puts her on speaker.

“Who else have you checked on?”

“You're the first. Rossi and Reid called me.”

“All right. Keep me on the line while you check on everyone else.”

Emily picks up next. “Is everyone ok?”

Garcia tells her she’s got the both of you on the line, and she’s already spoken to Rossi and Reid.

Your body is almost completely bowed toward Derek, twisted in the passenger seat. “Emily, where are you?”

“I'm following detective Brustin to one of the NYPD’s Critical Incident Command Posts.”

“One of them?” Garcia’s confusion is only a little frantic, and you more than sympathize with her tangent. Anything is a better thought than the one you’re all sharing at this very moment.

Derek explains the decentralization of the CICP’s following 9/11 - too many eggs in one basket.

Garcia cuts him off, getting back on track. “Has anyone talked to JJ?”

Emily answers her. “She was headed back to the hotel.”

“In an SUV?

“I think so. Stay with me a minute. I'll dial her mobile.”

JJ’s voicemail rings through Derek’s phone, and your heart sinks. “This is Agent Jareau, Communications Director for the FBI’s Behavioral--” It cuts off.

You lean over the center console. “What was that? What happened?”

Garcia’s voice is flustered when she answers, “It went dead mid-message.”

“Try her again. She's probably back at--” You lose Emily.

You lost all of them in the middle of a sentence, and all the blood drains out of your face. Derek drops his phone into one of the cupholders and reaches out. You grab his hand, holding it in both of yours.

This is a nightmare.

Derek keeps driving, and you find a police barricade on your way back to the federal building. Derek throws the car into park and you both leap out of the car, flashing your badges at anyone who will look. You find the man in charge, but he tells you to get back to the federal building.

Hot anger flies through you.

Who does he think he is?

You stick close to Derek, but startle when you hear Hotch cry out. Pressing along the barricade, you call across the block. “Aaron! Aaron! We’re here!”

You get leave to go, and you and Derek sprint toward Aaron and Kate. He’s covered in blood, both his and Kate’s and you get on one side of him while Derek crouches on the other side of Kate. Your hands flutter over him for a moment, one of them landing on the nape of his neck. The softness of his hair is the same as it’s always been, and it grounds you.

“Aaron -”

He’s not looking at you. “Morgan, we've got to get her out of here.”

Derek throws his arm out of the side, outlining the situation. “They're not letting any ambulances down here ‘til they clear the scene.” He turns to the young man hovering behind Aaron. “Kid, you gotta get behind the barricades. Let's go. Go!”

Hotch nods at him. “Go, Sam.”

“Good luck.” The kid sprints off, and Derek draws Hotch’s focus again.

“Talk to me. Can we carry her?” He leans further over Kate, into Aaron’s eye line. “Hotch, can we carry her?”

“No, I tried. Morgan, she's gonna bleed to death if we don't get her out of here. We gotta do something.” The ache in his voice is horrible. You reach out, brushing some hair off Kate’s forehead. She’s cold to the touch, and you press your hand to the side of her face, willing your warmth into her.

“C’mon Kate.” You whisper to yourself. She’s still not your favorite person, but Aaron’s agony as he literally holds her body together tears your heart in two.

Derek’s phone rings, and it’s Penelope. “Garcia, I got Hotch. But listen to me. You gotta get somebody down here right away, you hear me? Right now. What? You're absolutely sure?” Derek looks up, finding the kid standing by the shelled remains of the car. “Hotch. The kid. He's the bomber.”

“Go.” Aaron’s voice is defeated, and you hesitate as your body coils to chase after Derek. Aaron looks at you. “Please. Stay.”

You nod, and tuck in close to him, keeping one hand on his arm and another on Kate’s cheek. An ambulance pulls up, and you’re more than relieved.

Hotch briefs the paramedic. “She's got an arterial bleed in her back and I'm doing my best to hold it closed.

“You ok?”

Isn’t that the question of the hour.

“I just want to get her out of here.”

That’s not a fucking answer, Aaron.

You let it go, for now. He’s a mess, but he’s alive and he’s conscious. That’s what’s important right now. You tune back in.

“You were calling for help and I couldn't listen anymore. My partner was too afraid to come in here with me.”

Aaron leans into Kate, and your heart pulls again. “Kate, we're gonna get you out of here. We're on our way out of here.”

You help as much as you can, following instructions and making sure Kate’s stable.

+++

When you’re all finished, you get into the passenger seat of the ambulance. Hotch is on autopilot and he shouldn’t be driving, but you’re ready to take over at a moment’s notice.

When you’re stopped at the emergency room entrance, you flash your credentials as Hotch explains the situation as clearly as he can. The Secret Service agent reluctantly waves you through. Kate’s crashing in the back, and Aaron’s agitation flies through the roof.

It’s a blur, but you finally end up in the hospital, shadowing Aaron. He collapses, and you cry out for help, holding his hands as he hits the ground.

Everything's happening so fast.

When will it end?

+++

“Kiddo, where’s Hotch?” Derek comes flying through the doors of the ER, and you throw yourself into him.

“He’s fine. Massive trauma to his right ear and a shrapnel wound. Kate’s in surgery.”

There’s a commotion from behind the open door, and you both rush in when you hear Hotch’s voice.

You get in between Hotch and the attending, doing your best to calm him down. “Aaron, Hotch. Calm down. Slow down. You’re really hurt.”

“Where’s Kate?”

You press your hands into his wrists, and he twists his arms, surprising you by gripping your forearms. “She’s in surgery. Your go-bag is on its way. Nothing’s happened since the first blast.”

He looks somewhat placated but looks over at Derek. “Sam?”

“He’s dead.”

Hotch releases you. “Morgan, the profile's wrong. Call JJ.”

+++

“Are you ok?” Emily takes full stock of him, and isn’t happy with what she finds.

“Yeah. I just want to understand why I'm still alive.” You help him with his vest, minding his shoulder. You’re not sure what’s wrong with it, but he’s favoring one over the other. He looks at you, and there are thanks in his brown eyes. You offer him a quick, soft smile but continue with your task, gently tightening the vest around his tender ribs, smoothing over the velcro with even pressure.

You’re listening as they go along, talking signatures and bomb-making and all manner of horrific precedent. You pass two pieces of fresh cotton to Hotch, who immediately replaces the bloodied cotton in his right ear. He shakes his head with two deep blinks.

His ears are ringing something stupid right now, I bet.

I wish I could do more.

Just be here. Do your job. That’s what you can do.

All at once, you figure out that the ambulance is the bomb. You spot Hotch as he moves (way too fast) down the hallway.

Goddamn it, Aaron.

+++

The bastard slit his throat.

Fuck.

The look on Aaron’s face is nothing short of disgust, and you’re sure yours matches.

+++

You’re waiting for him when he walks out of the operating room. His eyes are hollow and they seem to look through you rather than at you.

“Hotch - Aaron - I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t particularly like Kate, but you know how much he cared for her. His pain often feels like yours - even more frequently, you can't parse his from yours. While you didn’t expect to mourn her, you find that weight in your belly anyway. Your eyes mist up against your will, your breath hitching in your throat.

He doesn’t say anything, and your voice is almost desperate when you ask, “What can I do?”

Brown eyes flicker around the room. He looks more like a caged animal in this moment than in any other you’ve ever seen. You approach him slowly, and you’re not sure if he heard you. There’s still blood on his neck from his ear, and you’re terrified he’s lost his hearing for good.

“Aaron?”

He finally acknowledges you when you’re close enough to him to take his hand. You catch him as he wilts, pressing a hand to the back of his head as he tucks his head into your neck.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Aaron.”

He mumbles something into your shoulder, and you lean back, holding him up with your hands on his biceps.

“What?”

“Call Haley. Tell her, please. They got along really well. She’d want to know.”

You nod and guide him to a chair. He sits heavily, tilting his head against the wall. Pulling your phone from your belt, you ask, “Do you want me to stay here?”

He nods, his eyes closed.

You dial the familiar number and hold the phone to your ear, settling down on his left so he can hear.

Haley answers the phone, a question at the end of your name.

“Yeah, Haley, it’s me. Hi.”

“Hi. Is everything okay?”

You look at Aaron, who’s still and quiet beside you. “Not really.”

“I heard about the bombing in New York, the murders...Is everyone alright?”

“We’re alright. Aaron’s fine - some mild injuries but nothing serious.”

“Okay?” You hear the unspoken question. Then why are you calling?

“I was told you’d - um.” You take a deep breath, and it catches. Aaron flips his hand palm-up on his knee, and you take it. “I was told you were close with Kate Joyner, from the New York field office. She used to be at Scotland Yard?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Her voice falters. “Wait. Oh, God…”

“Haley I’m so sorry.” You swallow some tears. “I’m so sorry, but she was killed in the bombing.”

You hear a shaky breath on the other side of the line. “Oh.” There’s a pause, and you suspect she has more to say. You’re right. “Aaron told you to call, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

She sighs. “Can I talk to him?”

You look over and he nods, releasing your hand and holding it out for the phone. “Yeah, he’s right here.” She says something else, and you put the phone back to your ear. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for telling me.”

You nod to yourself. “Of course. Here’s Aaron.”

He takes the phone from you. An exhausted, “Hi,” leaves him.

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re alright.”

A little smile pulls at his lips. “I’m alright. How’re you?”

Her bright laugh echoes faintly through the phone, but there’s a solemn edge to it. “You’re asking me how I am?”

His eyebrows rise, his eyes still closed. “Isn’t that polite?”

You can almost see her suppressed smile. “It is. I’m fine. Jessica and I just finished dinner and put Jack down for the night.”

“How’s Jack?”

You tune out, the exhaustion taking over. Aaron pats the seat on his other side and you shuffle around, tucking yourself under his open arm. Leaning against his shoulder, you close your eyes, letting the voices of two divorced people who love each other very much lull you into something that feels a little like sleep.

+++

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fairlyspnfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

The Ties that Bind Us

Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail? Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old. The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do. But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.

A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests. I’m not going to post the actual requests because...well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.

Words: 2826

Tags: Angst, Fluff, nightmares, all the fun stuff.

I wrang my hands together nervously. They were all sweat; clammy and cold while simultaneously uncomfortably hot. My breathing was deceptively calm, though every other part of me shook as my anxiety climbed. I closed my eyes, pushing my hands down on the mattress on either side of me and took a deep steadying breath. Talking myself into pushing my body into a standing position, I opened my eyes and left my room, consciously putting one foot in front of the other.

“Guys?” My voice rang out in the echoey halls, shaking and hoarse. I cleared my throat and ran my hands through my hair as I continued making my way into the main room. There they were. Dean, his feet kicked up on the table, a large, brown dusty book sprawled on his lap and a beer firmly clasped in his hand as he focused on the words on the page. Sam, pacing back and forth silently behind him.

It had been weeks since we had found a job. The last actual gig we had been on was pretty small-fry. A pair of ghouls wreaking havoc in a college town that we had taken care of in less than a weekend. The local fraternity parties didn’t even notice, and the drunken sorority girls went on with their lives none the wiser.

But this? This job was going to be huge. If not in scale, then in emotion alone. Not for the boys. They wouldn’t have any clue; I’d make sure of that. The pack had been on the prowl for decades, maybe longer. Long enough to have destroyed my life, killed my family, and upend everything I knew to be true when I was only four years old. And now they were back. I rubbed the sweat from my palms that would have given me away on the back of my jeans, before grabbing the chair opposite from Dean. The wheels moved faster than I expected as it began to roll behind me. I lowered myself quickly into the seat, as if the mishap was entirely intentional, but the smirk at the corner of Dean’s smile let me know my attempt had failed.

I hated the chairs in the map room. The side armrests dug into my hips and I was never quite comfortable in them. But who was I to question generations of decorum? I crossed my legs as eloquently as I could, adjusting so that I was practically sitting on one hip in order to keep the bars from digging into them.

The laptop Sam had out on the table was still booted up. I reached out, grabbing it and quickly pulled up the article that I had found this morning. “Woman’s Body Found Mangled in Historic District.” I spun the screen around, allowing Dean to see. He skimmed through it quickly before sneering. “Doesn’t really scream monster there, Y/N.” I rolled my eyes, returning control of the computer to myself and pulled up three more articles, all within the last two months. “Teen Killed in Apparent Pit Bull Attack,” followed by “Couple Maimed in Forrest Preserve” and “Missing Child Found Had Been Attacked by Unidentified Animal.” I pushed the screen over to Dean again.

“Well, maybe that does merit a look-see.” His tune changed. Whenever there was a lapse between jobs, Dean would get antsy. His temperament changed, he was jumpy, and nothing could make him happier than a new destination and a big bad to gank.

“What’s that?” Sam said as he practically skipped up to the table like an excited puppy.

“Get this,” I began before Dean cut me off.

“Y/N,” he chastised. “That’s Sam’s line.” He winked at me as a smile spread widely across his face. That smile. The one that could bring world peace as far as I was concerned. At the very least, it made my knees weak, breath hitch, and I lost all train of thought.

I quickly pulled myself back together and pushed my daydreaming mind back to the task at hand. Dean pushed the laptop over to Sam, allowing him to read through them quickly. “So, what are we thinking, Werewolves? Hellhounds?”

“Werewolves,” I said definitively. My face was deadpan, and it didn’t seem to go unnoticed. “Look at the descriptions. There’s something they aren’t saying. The bodies were all attacked at night, and each one was during the full moon. Plus, the missing kid? He was 8. That’s not enough time for any demon deal to go down and a Hellhound to get involved. No, it’s a werewolf. No doubt in my mind.” I was all seriousness and they knew it. Sam simply nodded, his eyebrows creased suspiciously, but he didn’t question me.

“Well then,” Dean said, clapping his hands together as he all but jumped to his feet. “Let’s get on the road. It’s a little over seven hours to Missouri. You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready.” He was like a kid at Christmas as he bounced down the hallway to his room.

“Only guy in the world to get the warm and fuzzies from a bunch of dead bodies,” I laughed, shaking my head, closing the laptop, and uncrossing my legs. I stood up slowly and stretched my arms above my head.

Sam didn’t take his probing eyes off me as he crossed his arms. “Y/N?”

“Yes, Samuel?” I mocked him in response.

“What aren’t you telling us?”

I did my best version of shock and outrage, looking around as if I wasn’t quite sure what he was alluding to. “What?”

“You’ve never been so adamant about a job before. Hell, you’re usually the one trying to talk us out of taking jobs. What gives?” I rolled my eyes as dramatically as I could.

“Nothing. It just seems like a pretty clear gig to me. And if bodies are dropping every month, and more bodies each time?” I shook my head. “Then the next ones are on us.” I locked eyes with the younger Winchester, attempting to convey my point with a look.

His expression still seemed doubtful, but he nodded his head and walked towards his room, patting my shoulder as he passed by me. “Whatever you say, kid.”

Half an hour later, we were all piled into the Impala. Dean driving, Sam riding shotgun, and I lounged across the backseat, scouring the news for any updates. The next full moon wouldn’t be for another week, but I wasn’t willing to allow anything to be missed. Not when I could stop it.

A couple of hours later, my eyes began to droop, and my cell phone slipped from my hand, crashing to the floor between my feet. But my exhaustion won out over my need to secure the phone.

I looked down at my hands. They were sticky and coated with a thick layer of blood. I had no idea if it was mine or someone else’s, but the terror that rose in my chest didn’t care. All around me, the only sounds I could hear were the violent gnashing of teeth, the moist squelching of flesh being torn from bone, and the small, muted whimpers from someone that I had yet to lay my eyes on. I looked around but everything around me was coated in darkness. Only my hands were visible in a dim red light that seemed to come from nowhere. I took a step forward, feeling my foot slip as the wet floor beneath me was coated in that same tacky liquid that was all over my hands. Looking in front of me, I came eye to eye with a single pair of vibrant yellow orbs that seemed to stop me in my tracks. Paralyzed with fear, I froze, unwilling and wholly unable to continue forward. A low grumble began emanating from those same eyes as they moved closer to me. The grumble turned quickly to a growl; vicious and hungry with a deep, bone chilling timbre. Suddenly, the eyes were directly in front of me, inches from my face. So close that I could feel the hot, rank breath on my cheek before a loud, piercing snarl rang in my ear.

My eyes snapped open and the sweat running down my neck sent a chill down my spine. My sharp inhale was the only sound made and I did my best to calm down before making any further noise. My nightmares had always been the same and had always been my own. Nobody had ever found out about them, especially the boys, and I fully intended to keep it that way.

Stretching my arms to my sides as best as I could, I made a dramatic show of waking. “Where are we?” I asked.

Glancing to the front seat I could see Sam slumped against the window, his head tilted back, mouth open, and very much asleep. Dean was still in the driver’s seat, bobbing his head and mouthing along with Steven Tyler as he belted out the lyrics to “Dream On.” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, giving me that same world-peace smile that only he seemed to know how.

“About 100 miles outside St. Charles. I’ve gotta stop for gas though. You hungry?” I nodded back to him as I rubbed my eyes, clearing out the sandy bit of sleep that had formed in the corners.

“Do you need to change out? I can drive the last of the way.” I offered, knowing he’d never go for it. He never had before.

“I’m good. Got a solid three hours of shut eye last night.” He winked at me in the mirror. Pushing down the butterflies in my stomach and doing my best to suppress the blush that I was sure was creeping to my cheeks, I looked out the window. The sun had just come down, creating an orange sky with just a hint of pink. I took a deep breath and turned back to facing the driver.

Dean pulled off onto an exit ramp and turned into a QT Gas Station. “What are you in the mood for?” he asked me. I shrugged.

“Surprise me.” The glint in his eye and the devilish smile that he gave me in return elicited an exaggerated eye roll from me. “Just go get some road food.” I waved him away. “I’ll pump.” I opened my door as quietly as I could and stepped around to the gas pump. I twisted the gas cap, put my card in the machine, or rather Stacey Abrams’ card, and began filling the tank.

I watched Dean walk up and into the convenience store, his bowed legs taking long strides as he did so. He grabbed the door and held it open, making a big show as he gestured for the woman coming out the door to pass before him. The leggy blonde walked by, tucking her perfectly silky hair behind her perfect ears as her perfectly perky tits bounced their way out of the shop. I watched as Dean’s eyes followed her out, obviously and lustily eyeing her up and down, appreciating the view.

The sharp stab to my chest wasn’t new. The jealousy mixed with disappointment happened pretty frequently after all. But each time felt like ripping off a band aid before the wound had begun to heal.

The gas pump stopped, the telling “clunk” of the machinery drawing my attention back to my task. I tapped the spout on the edge of the tank before fully withdrawing it and hanging it back up on the pump. I ripped the receipt off quickly, shoving it into my back pocket as I walked back around the car and settled into my seat again.

“You know, you could always just tell him.” Sam’s voice rang out, surprising me, from the front seat.

“Shit, Sam.” I said. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I’m serious, Y/N. Tell him.” He had turned around now, staring me dead in the face as if we were locked in a staring contest that I hadn’t agreed to participate in.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said a bit too defensively.

“Right.” He rolled his eyes at me. “You do realize I know every tell you have, right?”

I shook my head at him, chuckling. “Samuel, I think you must still be dreaming.”

“Like that.” He pointed at me. “You’re biting your cheek. You only do that when you’re lying. Next, you’ll be pulling on your ear lobe, just like that.” He accused me as I did just as he said.

“No, I’m not.” He glared at me in response. “Shut up.” I bit at him, jokingly, sticking my tongue out at him as I crossed my arms.

Dean opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Dude,” he said excitedly, holding up a white paper bag. “Taquitos!”

A little over 100 miles later, we were pulling into the local motel. Sam had gone to check us in while Dean and I grabbed the bags from the trunk.

“Peartree Inn?” I said, dejectedly. Dean looked at me, a curious expression on his face. “Just once, it would be so nice to stay at a 5-star hotel. Hell, I’d settle for 4 stars if it meant a comfy bed that didn’t have my back aching in the morning and a hot tub to soak in at night.” I closed my eyes and sighed, dreaming.

“I’ll be sure to get you a hot tub at the next place we stay in. Long as I can join you,” he said, cocking his head towards me with a smile. I rolled my eyes and playfully shoved his shoulder.

“Hey,” Sam said, running up to us both. “So, they only have rooms with two beds max. No roll-away’s or cots. But I got us two rooms. Best I could do.” He handed a card key to each of us. A small sticky note was attached to each. “Dean, we’re in 213. Y/N, you’re in 436.” I nodded my head, handed Sam his bag and headed inside.

The front desk clerk waved at me as I went in and pointed towards the elevators. Thanking her, I walked over and pushed the call button. The doors opened instantly, and I stepped in without waiting for Sam and Dean to catch up. Once I dropped off my bags and went to the bathroom, I planned on heading to their room anyway to go over our plan.

But just after I’d used the restroom and rinsed my face, there was a solid knock at the door. “Gimme a second,” I shouted as I grabbed a hand towel and dried my face off. The peephole on the door was small with a silver dongle covering it up until you swung it to the side. I checked to see who it was before unlatching the deadbolt and opening the door.

“Bad news, Y/N.” Dean said as he walked in, making himself comfortable on my King size bed. He was lounging back, his head resting on a combination of my pillows and his own hand as his legs sprawled out in front of him. “No hot tubs in the whole joint.” I laughed at him, throwing my hand towel into the bathroom.

“So, where’s Sam? I figured we needed to get our plan of attack sorted.”

“Oh,” Dean said, straightening up a bit. “He’s down in our room. We didn’t get the fancy penthouse view you did.” My eyes wandered over to the balcony and the sliding doors that lead out to it. I pointed to it and tilted my head, silently asking if he’d like to join me outside. He all but leapt out of bed and over to the door, yanking it open. The track was rusted and in desperate need of some WD-40, but he was able to grant us egress.

We walked onto the balcony and looked down. The penthouse view as Dean called it wasn’t the greatest. A moderately busy highway for as late at night on a weeknight as it was, and some unkempt trees just barely allowed us to see the airport beyond it. But the fresh air and the sounds of the cars rushing by was a tonic to the anxiety that had been eating at me all day.

I leaned on the railing, my hands clasped together, as I inhaled the fresh air and felt my hair blowing ever so slightly in the wind. I could feel Dean walk up and join me. “Feels pretty nice out here,” he said softly.

I smiled. “Yeah, it does.” I opened my eyes and looked down again, remembering the reason we were here. As peaceful as it felt right now, there were monsters just down the road. The very monsters from my nightmares. And no matter how terrified it left me, I wouldn’t be leaving before I drove a silver bullet through each of their hearts.

To Be Continued......Part Two

Taglist (Tag requests are open):

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whoslaurapalmer · 4 years ago

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okay so like. i feel like i should come to terms with my ‘4 seasons of the daily punctilio as the office’ because while i came up with GREAT episode descriptions, and also spent like two months of my life dissecting sitcom structure (which was, admittedly, a lot of fun), it would take the Longest to write and the Longest to post, which is terrible, not ideal at all, so

the highlights, which might make it into my current vague incarnation of ‘modern AU where vfd is a book club in some way’ --

-eleanora poe is the managing editor of the punctilio, and she won possession of the paper in a card game from the previous owner (who was vfd-adjacent) -moxie is city desk editor, lemony is copyeditor, and then jacques does fashion and ramona does finances -they work the night shift, 4pm-12am -geraldine is hired in the third episode as the theater critic to great distress of the entire staff

it’s honestly easier to just, post how i wrote out the episode descriptions to show the vague plot i had mapped out, especially because i’m very proud of them regardless --

i hadn’t figured out a and b plots for all of them, so i left the ones i had written down --

s1, e1 – the punctilio – eleanora wants to take the punctilio in a new direction.

-a plot – the staff gets used to working with a documentary crew as eleanora tries to push the punctilio in a more honest direction.

s1, e2 – the article – the staff works overtime in an attempt to get their articles done.

-a plot – demeaned by the staff’s antics, eleanora has them work overtime to finish articles.

s1, e3 – the new kid – geraldine julienne is hired as the new theater critic.

-a plot – geraldine wants to prove herself, so she decides to do all her work herself.

s1, e4 – the book club – geraldine finds out the other staff members have a book club and tries to get in.

-a plot – geraldine wants to fit in, so she tries to join the book club.

s1, e5 – the ribbon – lemony and moxie try to find a replacement typewriter ribbon.

-a plot – lemony wants to fix his friendship with moxie, so he asks her to help him get new ribbons.

s1, e6 – the finances – ramona uncovers a filing error.

s1, e7 – the straight man – the staff tries to make jacques laugh.

-a plot – concerned at jacques’s steady impassiveness, the staff tries to make him laugh.

-b plot – lemony and the rewrite crew deal with geraldine’s articles?

s1, e8 – the actress – lemony’s girlfriend visits the punctilio offices and creates a stir.

s2, e1 – the theater night – the staff spends an evening at the theater.

-a plot – because the staff doesn’t understand his relationship with beatrice, lemony invites them to the theater.

-b plot – to prove her position, geraldine tries to get esme’s attention at the theater.

s2, e2 – the banker – the staff encounters eleanora’s brother, who comes to audit the office.

-a plot – the staff, hostile to anyone disrupting the paper, does not take well to arthur poe.

-b plot – ramona fields calls from her mother about replanning the garden.

s2, e3 – the sunglasses – eleanora deals with a theft.

s2, e4 – the pigeon – geraldine inadvertently scares the pigeons.

-a plot – attempting to assert her position and knowledge, geraldine accidentally scares lemony’s pigeons off the fire escape.

s2, e5 – the 3rd annual esme squalor fan club dinner party and salad bar – geraldine tries to bring the staff together.

-a plot – geraldine wants to show she’s sophisticated, and involves the staff in the planning of the dinner.

-b plot – lemony wants revenge on geraldine for the pigeons, and sabotages the dinner.

s2, e6 – the inheritance – ramona returns to winnipeg after her mother has an accident.

-a plot – lemony gets updates from winnipeg as ramona helps her mother.

s2, e7 – the kansas city shuffle – eleanora considers some staffing changes.

-a plot – lemony and eleanora engage in mind games as eleanora shuffles the staff around in ramona’s absence and lemony tries to keep his job.

s2, e8 – the intern – the punctilio picks up a new intern.

-a plot – because he misses ramona, and other personal reasons, lemony shuns the new intern. (bertrand. the intern is bertrand.)

s2, e9 – the replacement – eleanora cements her staffing changes.

s2, e10 – the reunion – ramona returns to the punctilio.

-a plot – not wanting to desert her post and colleagues, ramona returns to the punctilio and has to deal with the changes eleanora made.

s2, e11 – the rival – moxie, geraldine, and eleanora meet someone from jacques, lemony, and ramona’s childhood.

-a plot – desperate not to be upstaged or embarrassed by the appearance of olaf, lemony, jacques, and ramona decide to upstage him?

-b plot – eleanora and moxie, feeling left out, try to figure out what olaf’s deal is.

s2, e12 – the salmon – the staff get together to review a new restaurant.

a plot – in pairs, the staff goes to review cafe salmonella.

b plot – eleanora, allergic to salmon and disappointed she can’t go, fields phone calls.

s2, e13 – the framing, part one – on the tail of a big story that might finally get her on the wall of Best Articles, geraldine accidentally frames lemony for a series of crimes.

-b plot – geraldine wants to be on the wall so badly that she digs too hard into an article. (I had an idea it was about like, since she’s fashion editor, eye tattoos???? hmm hmm hmm!)

s3, e1 – the framing, part two – the staff scramble to clear lemony’s name. (fuck the cold open is like, lemony saying once again, “do I have any regrets? several. …. I left the tea kettle in our apartment on.”) (god the sheer beautiful absurdity of lemony on the run…..followed by a camera crew I’m dying)

-a plot – moxie takes the lead on trying to clear lemony of false accusations.

s3, e2 – the assignment – lemony encounters the punctilio’s previous intern.

-a plot – when lemony runs into bertrand again, he wants to make amends.

-b plot – jacques and geraldine get put on assignment together.

s3, e3 – the costume party – beatrice holds a costume party.

-a plot – lemony is nervous about the party and bertrand, and hides the whole time.

s3, e4 – the trivia night – the staff attend trivia night at a local cafe.

-a plot – jacques is nervous about talking to jerome, and asks lemony to accompany him to trivia night – the whole staff follows.

-b plot – geraldine wants to impress people, and studies up for the trivia night.

s3, e5 – the blues (I guess that’s why they call it) – jacques takes a day off.

-a plot – to cope with being denied by jerome, jacques takes a day off.

-b plot – lemony struggles with his feelings and takes it out on the staff. moxie retaliates.

s3, e6 – the moonlighting – geraldine has a hard time keeping lemony’s second job a secret.

-a plot – torn between wanting to keep a secret and wanting to tell people bc reporter, geraldine goes to great lengths to try and keep lemony’s playwright job a secret.

s3, e7 – the summer camp gang – moxie and lemony hang out with their summer camp friends. (the sbts crew)

s3, e8 – the book club, part 2 – things escalate in the book club.

-a plot – at the monthly ‘book club’ meeting, things get out of hand when the punctilio is brought up.

s3, e9 – the telegram – eleanora gets a telegram from an old friend.

-a plot – eleanora receives a telegram from the previous owner of the punctilio and her old boss.

-b plot – jacques and ramona wait for a different telegram.

s3, e10 – the game – a flashback to eight years previously, when eleanora got the punctilio.

-a plot – eleanora, much like her employees in the present, wants to prove herself, and engages in a battle of wits to get a newspaper of her own.

s3, e11 – the librarian – moxie gets involved in a dispute between the snickets and a librarian. (dewey.)

s3, e12 – the hustle – after being picked up at the city jail, lemony tells ramona what happened at the pool hall.

-a plot – having called ramona because she’d be the least embarrassing, lemony talks about how pride was his downfall at the pool hall.

-b plot – moxie and jacques get involved in a game of Hell Chess.

s3, e13 – the siblings snicket – jacques and lemony’s sister returns to town.

-a plot – worried about lemony and jacques, their sister, kit, visits the punctilio to check on them.

-b plot – moxie and geraldine become determined to find out about the person who runs the presses.

s4, e1 – the feint – the staff investigates the local mystery of the feint family.

s4, e2 – the cat – ellington and the staff butt heads.

s4, e3 – the anniversary – geraldine’s three year hiring anniversary is derailed.

s4, e4 – the train – the staff finds themselves trapped on a train.

s4, e5 – the candlestick maker – the investigation takes a turn.

s4, e6 – and all of them out to sea – the investigation into the feints comes to an unexpected end.

s4, e7 – the lunch – lemony tries to meet someone for lunch.

s4, e8 – the soda – geraldine gets an offer.

-a plot – geraldine is torn between her love and devotion to the punctilio and her still-there desire to prove herself, especially to esme, when esme offers her a job.

s4, e9 – the reckoning – moxie makes a decision.

-a plot – moxie is startled to find herself upset about geraldine’s offer.

s4, e10 – the fire – eleanora’s telegram from last season comes back to haunt the punctilio.

s4, e11 – the end – lemony, jacques, and ramona reach an understanding.

s4, e12 – the caveat – eleanora fights for her employees.

s4, e13 – the volunteers – geraldine and lemony talk.

-a plot – scared that the punctilio and her friends are breaking up, geraldine seeks out lemony for advice.

s4, e14 – the punctilio, part 2 – once again, the punctilio takes a new direction.

-b plot – the cameraman is finally revealed.

#lulu talks about the sad lemon man #i love episode titles that are like 'the [x]' so that's why they're all like that. i think they're delightful and no title style is better

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years ago

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Bare Oneself and One’s Soul (Bi!Spencer Reid x Male!Reader)

Summary: Sex workers and strippers are being killed in Portland, Maine. The BAU team investigates the fourth and attempts to build a profile. But with part of the puzzle still missing, the reader contemplates offering to revisit a previous profession of theirs - the oldest in the business - to draw out the unsub.

AN: My first fic for Criminal Minds! I started watching the show about two weeks ago and I cannot stop. I’m on series 4 so no spoilers for me please! I would like to open requests soon, still wanna write more diverse readers hence why this is my first entry into this fandom.

Thank you @imagining-in-the-margins for inspiring me with your Bi The Way fic and answering my queries! You’re the bee’s knees!

Feedback and requests to be tagged in specific fics are welcome

Word count: 6.9k words

Content Warnings: Descriptions of violence, descriptions of dead bodies, homophobia, threats of outing, stripping, lap dances (mild NSFW), Gone Girl spoilers. Please let me know if I have missed anything!

Your name: submit What is this?

“Dancing, at its best, is independence and intimacy in balance.” ― Donna Goddard, The Love of Devotion

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It was already hard enough with this job. But someone targeting sex workers and the like, that was going to make things harder. The victims were anonymous in the eyes of the general public, subhuman, not worthy of being reported to warn others in their profession. Furthermore, the associates of the victims were not likely to talk to law enforcement.

Emily, Derek and Y/N returned to the temporary base of operations, having already faced this reality with the limited responses garnered from very few witnesses.

Only the recycling guy who found the latest body was willing and that was a stretch on the definition.

In the police station, Hotch was sifting through the security tapes he had access to, JJ at his side trying to spot the unsub. Spencer was building up a geographical profile and Rossi was out speaking to the family of the latest victim.

Y/N helped Morgan hand out the coffees they’d picked up, dropping a hefty amount of sugar packets and a disposable stirrer on the desk beside where Spencer was working. He stared up at the map and tried to clear his mind in case an epiphany decided to pass by.

The fourth victim was exactly like the three previous. The body was found down the back alley of a local nightclub, this one called Red Effort, and it was sat up daintily in the corner made of the building and a dumpster. A plastic bag was over the head. An expensive silk tie for a gag left in the mouth. Evidence of another used to tie the wrists together but that tie was gone. Other than that, the body was stripped naked.

“The bag wasn’t used in the suffocation; it was put on after death. The unsub couldn’t look at the victim after he’d killed him,” Y/N theorised, “But the nudity has a statement of sadism.”

Derek pointed to the photograph of the fourth victim’s neck, “Bruises around his neck show that strangulation killed him. Some kind of rope, possibly a belt about inch and a half wide, just like the others. But the tie is what gets me. Why leave one in the mouth but not the other around the hands? And why not leave the belt?”

“Hermès is an expensive brand,” JJ said, “But if it was cost the unsub was worried about, they wouldn’t leave the other behind. It must be something sentimental about that tie but not the other items used.”

Moving on, Spencer’s geographical profile highlighted the clubs’ connections. Utopia, Pulse Point, Move, and now Red Effort had tacks in them, standing out over the map. His “colouring in” highlighted clearly the MO of the killer they were after: it was someone local stalking the clubs over the last two weeks.

“The previous attacks show that they are only in the city and the unsub doesn’t hit the same club twice - at least so far. The next target is likely to be one of these three clubs in the radius: Focus, Potential, or Encore.”

“Anything in the CCTV?” Rossi asked.

JJ pinched the bridge of her nose, “Nothing so far from Garcia.”

“Well, I think we’re ready to present the profile to your officers, so if you could get everyone together, we can begin.”

When the group of officers had their notebooks at the ready, Hotch began:

“We’re looking for a man in his mid-thirties to late forties. When he’s in these clubs, he will seem confident and charming, even if he is a lone man amidst multiple women.”

Then Prentiss took over, “He is voyeuristic, hence why he is targeting strip clubs instead of approaching a prostitute. He likes to watch his victims perform, see them with other men before he makes his move.

“Outside of the club, he is less confident,” said Y/N, “He may present himself as heterosexual, probably married which is why he can’t target these men during the day. Going into the city likely means that he lives in the suburbs.”

Morgan continued, “His sexuality is warped; violence is what produces sexual release in his mind. The strangulation method, using a belt, shows that he doesn’t have enough strength themselves to take out their victims. He has to get their complete vulnerability before he can strike.”

Spencer turned away from his map to point to the evidence board, “He is targeting young men, strippers. Some of his victims were prostitutes. They were all brunettes, slim build, all performed on a stage in a nightclub the night they died, and witnesses have confirmed that they gave dances to men and women.”

“This unsub is escalating,” Rossi concluded, “The first attack was five days apart; the last was only two days. These are vulnerable people who need our help. Let’s catch this guy before he hurts any more people.”

A few hours later and Y/N was paired up with Emily at Focus. Drinking water in opaque glasses, they moved subtly to the music with their eyes steady across the club’s topography. The debrief played over and over in Y/N’s mind.

Although, his mind did stray to the fact that it was odd being in one of these clubs again. Being on the other end too, as a “customer”. Not disconcerting, just odd.

“Leather jacket, three o’clock.”

Over the rim of his glass, Y/N followed Emily’s direction and found their suspect. He was looking at a woman who was giddily on the receiving end of a lap dance.

No.

He was looking at the dancer. The man who was sporting some body paint that blended well with his tiger print shorts.

“You got eyes on him?” Emily spoke under her breath.

“I do.”

The suspect passed the dancer gradually, sauntering whilst making steady eye contact. Then his head snapped in the other direction and he walked right out of the club, still unhurried. The dancer’s stare lingered after him before he finished up his routine, flirtatiously thanked the ladies for their generous tip. He walked in the direction the suspect had gone.

Without speaking, Emily and Y/N were next to leave after the suspect. Their guns were drawn once the cool air of the night hit them through the back exit. A streetlamp’s light threw the two men’s identities into silhouettes. Emily and Y/N approached with as much stealth as the bare alleyway would give them before Emily made the call.

The suspect reached out to the dancer and Emily shouted, “FBI! Hands where I can see ‘em!”

The suspect looked more annoyed than surprised or scared of the guns pointed at him, “Hey, woah, what’s going on?”

“Hands up!” Y/N repeated sternly.

Y/N got the suspect in handcuffs not seconds after complying, Emily moving over to the dancer to check that he was alright.

“Derek?” The suspect screwed his features up, straining to turn and look Y/N in the eye.

Y/N cut him off, “Shut up.”

But still, as the suspect was dragged over to the cop car parked at the kerb, he remarked, “You’ve grown into your big boy pants.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Rossi unlinked his fingers and pressed them into the case file, pushing the photograph across the table to where Fabian O’Conner was sitting. The Encore club’s new manager had kept up his act of being more irked with the officers than intimidated. He was sloppy in his body language, especially after only five hours sleep in a cell and another hour in that uncomfortable chair, not taking any of Rossi’s questions seriously. All Fabian talked about was his club and how shit things were for him in the last fortnight.

“I’ve had three cancellations alone this week!”

Behind the glass, Emily looked to Y/N, “Why’d he call you Derek?”

Y/N was about to lie through his teeth when Hotch’s mobile trilled on the desk.

“Hotchner… OK… alright, we’ll be on the scene right away.” Hotch hung up and looked grimly at his team, “There’s been another murder, at Potential.”

JJ pointed at Fabian who was swinging on the chair’s back legs, “Well, it wasn’t him, so either he has an accomplice or we got something wrong in the profile that meant the unsub slipped past unnoticed.”

“Prentiss, JJ, Morgan, let’s get to the scene,” Hotch instructed, “Reid, Y/N, stay here, keep us updated on what Rossi gets out of this guy.”

As he watched his colleagues exit the building, Y/N wiped his cheek with the back of his left hand, “I’m gonna make more coffee, Spencer, you want any?”

“Please,” Spencer replied, looking over his shoulder with that white people smile he’d nailed over the years. Tossing a thumb’s up in his direction, Y/N headed off to get them their drinks.

“Why would he kill at the risk of losing business himself?” Reid asked him when he returned, sliding the paper cups onto the desk.

“That’s what doesn’t make sense to me,” said Y/N, “Fabian’s all about business. Plus, he’s the straightest guy I’ve ever met, don’t think he’d be within fifty miles of comfortable leaving these bodies naked.”

Before Spencer could ask how Y/N would know something like that, his phone rang out and he placed it on speaker phone.

“Garcia, whatcha got?”

“An update on that evidence of yours yesterday,” She spoke, “The tie is a very specific kind. Limited edition at Hermès, bought recently online. The paper trail leads us to a Mr Andrew Lowenthal who lives not a mile away from the city. Prentiss and Morgan went to go check out his home.”

“Brilliant, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, boy genius.”

She hung up before Spencer could but Spencer was already off on a tangent: “Limited collection, they’d stand out to the owner, so maybe they’re left as a message for someone.”

“But who?” Y/N asked the obvious.

He tapped his pen against the post mortem report that hid the corpse’s photographs. Something about those ties just stick in Y/N’s head. They kept reminding him of the ex-boyfriend in Gone Girl, his aversion for all the ties Amy bought him. The same ties Amy used to ruin his life, and that same ex-boyfriend couldn’t say anything at all about it.

Unfortunately, Rossi couldn’t get much more out of Fabian and he was let go. The alibi he’d given was checked out and found to be watertight. Apparently he was just looking in his competitor’s club for a dancer who had left Encore a week ago.

The investigation proved to be more fruitful outside of the station however when, a few hours later, JJ appeared with her notebook, “This girl Emily and I interviewed yesterday, she won’t tell me her real name, but she was there today at Focus. Says she saw a woman this time, a woman walking with Daniel into the alleyway behind the club.”

Hotch’s phone was heard entering the building before he was, buzzing in his palm before he promptly answered once in the room, “Emily, you’re on speaker.”

“So Andrew Lowenthal was home. Get this: he’s gay.”

“What?”

“We caught him packing his things to move out. Andrew came out to his wife Marcie recently and she reacted badly, threw a fit, accused him of cheating. Andrew says he’s been meeting with a man, a stripper, he won’t name him but he says they’ve been working through understanding his sexuality. Who can say if he’s really cheating or not, but this all came out a fortnight ago.”

Morgan continued, “Right when the killings started. Marcie won’t ask for a divorce, she’s threatened to out him though. She’s been staying out late as well on the nights the murders happened.”

Hotch looked at the case file in front of him, up at the geographical profile up on the board.

“Alright, thank you. Come back to the station.”

“The reason the unsub got away is because we thought the unsub was a man,” Y/N sighed as Hotch hung up.

Hotch was quick on the contradiction, “We can’t rule out Andrew yet. All the witnesses so far have said the victims were seen a man.”

“Yes, while they were at the club, but they were killed after work in the alley, not in the private rooms they rented!” Spencer pointed out the security tracking the movements of the victims next to his map, “After she, the unsub, had confirmed that these men would dance and, in her mind, sleep with other men!”

“He’s right,” Y/N supported, “It’s how the unsub would verify that her next victims were involved in homosexual activities. I should have thought of that sooner.”

Garcia was up on the phone immediately, searching for Marcie Lowenthal amidst the security footage. The genius that she was, it only took her a minute to find the new suspect at every single crime scene. The clips appeared on the laptop screen and played, this time with a box around the woman’s face to bring her out against the rest of the image.

“Marcie Lowenthal,” JJ pointed to her image on the screen. Garcia was correct, she had been right there, at the corner of each photo printed off from the other clubs

JJ carried on as the conversation between Daniel and Marcie unfolded onscreen, “Around the middle of the night, approaches Daniel, arranges to meet him outside in the alley once he’s finished work.”

“And we thought she was just too nervous to instigate a dance with them,” Derek bit his lip hard, “So what do we do now? She’s not at work, she’s in the air until she kills again. She’s been escalating, so she’ll kill again tonight.”

It was then that Y/N decided to jump in with the idea he had been brewing since his second cup of coffee:

“I could go undercover in one of the clubs.”

Hotch stared for a moment at Y/N, clearly caught off guard by the outburst, before speaking in that collected drone of his, “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Each club is hit once, Encore is one of two potential spots left, the unsub is escalating so they will be at one tonight. It’s “Boys in the Buff’ at Encore tonight, so likelihood of them being there is high compared to Potential’s ‘Dollar a Drink’ gimmick, OK? It’s just a suggestion. If we have another plan, I’m all ears.”

“You fit the MO, but how would you even blend in?” Spencer asked.

The next bit came out a lot easier than when Y/N had expected.

“When I was here during college, I used to be a stripper at Encore, before I worked in the FBI. ‘Derek’ was my pseudonym. Fabian was a bouncer at Encore before he became manager.”

The wave of expressions changing throughout the room were significant: jaws slacking; a little lift in an eyebrow; most notably, silence.

Rossi walked into the room, completely ignorant to the tone set by Y/N’s revelation, “Marcie Lowenthal’s next move is at Encore. She’s building up to Focus where her husband has been going. Garcia tracked his car’s GPS to that club five times in the last month.”

“So, what you’re saying is that Encore is the next step and then Focus,” Y/N fidgeted with his pen.

Hotch turned back at Y/N and in his usual calm and collected tone he spoke, “Tell us what you need for this.”

“I’ll need an hour to warm up, a slot on stage, and a guy to dance with then take to a private room. And some hot pants.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Encore was empty, the stage free from dancers, the bar barren.

It was always weird to look at a club when it was empty and all the normal lights were on. Even more so that it had been redecorated in Y/N’s hiatus from Portland, highlighting how surreal it was to be back.

Y/N climbed up onto the stage and surveyed the empty seats. Then he began to warm himself up. A grunt escaped him every now and again, fighting against his stiff joints. Thankfully, the BAU was another job that kept fitness levels high as a necessity.

Humming his chosen song, Y/N began to test his flexibility against the pole. Muscle memory brought back his techniques one after the other. He repeated one of his old routines in broken segments, saving the transitions for last before he was ready to properly rehearse it. With a sigh, he took off his button up, leaving only the tight spandex that wrapped his crotch in a deep cherry red.

“Nice package.”

Mimi was watching from the side of the stage, her heels dangling by the straps on the tips of two fingers. A fond smile played on her lips, one that grew into a toothy grin filled with genuine glee as she approached him.

“Hey!” Y/N finally retorted, though there was that same playfulness in his voice that meant he didn’t take the comment on his junk to heart.

“Hello,” Mimi gave him a warm embrace, “What are you doing back here, you idiot?”

Y/N settled for the excuse of needing a few extra bucks and figured it would be nice to join in the gender equality of male strippers. Mimi didn’t seem convinced.

“You choose that now? When all those guys in the other clubs are getting murdered?”

“I’ll be sure not to follow anyone the alley. Are you doing ok?”

“All good.”

“Really? I’ve seen you at some of the crime scenes, talking with the FBI.”

“I’m safe, especially with my girls.”

“Speaking of, it’s ladies’ night, what are you doing here?”

“Just picking up something I forgot,” and she poked him in the centre of his chest, “Good luck tonight.”

Y/N rubbed that spot as she left the club, “Thanks.”

Not much else happened between Y/N finishing up his rehearsal and the club opening. The conversations in the dressing room was soon drowned out by the din of eager customers waiting.

To say that Y/N was more nervous about dancing in front of his co-workers – his actual co-workers, not the other dancers – than performing in front of a serial killer would be an understatement. He had gone to the toilet three times in the last ten minutes. And that was saying something; the men’s loos were beyond disgusting.

On the steps up, he could see Emily was at the bar with JJ. They looked normal enough. Two gals on a night out to a strip club. A quick scan found Derek near the door with one of the bouncers. Hotch and Rossi were hidden in the security room, and the other agents at their aid were outside with civvies over protective gear. Everyone was watching as the announcer introduced him as “Derek” for his walk across the stage. Whoops and whistles followed him as he preened for the women in the seats down below.

Then he found Spencer. For once, he was dressed like he was from Las Vegas. Loud colours splashed across his shirt, clashing with the strobe lights. But he definitely stood out as one man amongst tens of women.

And thus began behaving “normally”. Y/N’s head space allowed him to move with ease throughout the groups of women to make it towards Spencer, who had already locked eyes on him.

His hand was shaking a little as he touched Spencer’s shoulder going past. It was a repeat of an action he’d seen on one of the tapes: keeping eye contact with a potential wallet he could dance for before pretending to drop interest.

The look between them was another matter. Eye contact was something that made the both of Y/N and Spencer nervous, but not when it was with each other. That comfort that was oft shared across the table at a meeting still comforted Y/N as his hand fell from Spencer and back to his side. The warmth of it spread through his body and gave new life to his confidence. He was safe. His team were all here. He was going to be fine. He was going to be brilliant.

The first up on the stage to perform was a man, taller and buffer than Y/N, dressed as a fireman. He swept a woman from the audience off her chair in the middle of the routine.

The second was a trio of oiled up men, weaving in and out the front row between exaggerated erotic dance moves. It was a bit of a laugh, goofy with the hen do at the front egging them on.

And now it was his turn.

“Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and then see what we find?”

Y/N took his time stepping up to the pole, using the sultry slow beat of the music to his best advantage. Knowing most of the club had their eyes on him was horrendous and enthralling simultaneously. The next four minutes were crucial for attracting the unsub.

He performed a reverse grab to face his audience dead on. Hung gracefully upside down, still moving around the pole.

The murmurs of awe were appreciated but not what the unsub was looking for.

Time to up the ante.

Dismounting the pole, Y/N dragged a chair into the centre of the walkway. He pretended to survey everyone at the front of the stage before landing on Spencer. There, he knelt forward and held out his hand. As soon as his grip reached Spencer’s wrist, Y/N pulled him up and onto the chair.

In position, he ignored all the women screaming in the crowds, ignored the fetishization at their expense. He focused on Spencer. And that awful shirt.

He kept an inch between them for now, but Spencer wasn’t tense as he had imagined. No, Spencer was lounging back, and basking in the performance. The smile on his face, it was daring Y/N to move closer.

Spreading his legs to stand between them, Y/N touched him first. He could feel the padding of Spencer’s bulletproof vest beneath his shirt’s soft fabric. At the ends of those lovely arms (the ones often hidden beneath those cardigans) Spencer’s hands twitched.

Y/N backed up against him like he had done with the pole. A cinematic parallel the women definitely appreciated. Bringing those long legs back together, Y/N made himself comfortable on his lap, a fingertip facing the threat of being cut as it dragged along Spencer’s jaw. That prickle of stubble sparked against him. Their faces so close that his lips so close to brushing over Spencer’s, barely any space for the crooning of the possessive lyrics to reach between them. Straddling Spencer gave Y/N even more confidence. He continued to tease Spencer, taking in the smell of the sweat from the light’s heat and his skin’s flush, bolded in bright pink. His lips at his throat, they dragged across the swell of his Adam’s apple that quaked beneath him as Spencer swallowed.

They heard a whistle from the crowds that was almost definitely from JJ, spurring on the crowd to react louder. But over their roars, Y/N heard a gasp fly from Spencer. His eyes instinctively drifted down to look at Spencer’s open mouth, down further at where he was sat. Even if Y/N couldn’t feel everything, the trousers were doing nothing to hide how Spencer was feeling.

Bills were flying onto the stage floor. Y/N continued to play his part, arching his body to ripple against Spencer’s. But Spencer caught his hip, his bottom lip now bitten as he let out a groan, low enough to not be heard over the music’s closing bars. But it was clear that his reaction sparked something in the audience. Y/N leant back to survey his handiwork, twirling a loose lock of Spencer’s hair around his finger in the space between them. Then his hand drew away and left that hair in his face before climbing off him and walking off the stage with a blackout - bar one pink spot left on Spencer.

The second he was off stage, Y/N turned around and watched from the wings. Spencer rose from the chair and took a little bow. He bowed again much to the pleasure of the crowd. As he walked down the steps, Y/N could see that he was very clearly aroused.

Y/N made his way out as soon as the audience’s attention was on the stage. He knew the unsub would still be watching Spencer, now stood at the bar and sipping from a glass. It was hard not to feel the sting of a serial killer’s stare as he approached Spencer with a coy smile.

“Hey.”

Turning to face him, Spencer finished his drink before speaking, “Hello, Derek.”

“Hope you enjoyed yourself up there.”

“I did.” And he leant against the bar leisurely, his hand pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket, “Any chance of another round? Without the crowd this time.”

Plucking the money free with one hand, Y/N beckoned with the other, “Right this way, sir.”

Both men could see the unsub watching them in the reflection of the ceiling, following them until they filtered through the beaded curtains. Spencer went into the private room first. Y/N closed the door, trapping them in a room of mirrors and flooded pink light over a disco ball - music only muted slightly on the tiny speakers. The epitome of sleaze.

“The unsub followed us here,” Y/N dropped his act and the dollar bills onto the couch arm, falling into one half of the seat.

After a moment, Spencer sat down beside him. The cuffs of his trousers hitched up, revealing the Reid Special that was mismatching socks. He fiddled with his fingers for a moment.

“Uh, what happened out there…”

Spencer struggled to find the words so Y/N jumped in, “Don’t even worry about it. You’re not the first guy to pop a boner when I’m dancing.”

Even with that reassurance, Spencer was tenacious in explaining himself, “I want you to know I wasn’t creeping on you, and that I was focused on the situation at hand. It’s just, when an attractive man is mostly undressed and dancing like that right in front of me -” he paused to look at Y/N for the first time since they’d entered the private room “- Well, that was the most natural response.”

“I get it. It’s all good.”

Spencer, the germaphobe, perching on a couch that was definitely not up to any kind of sanitary standard, wearing that horrendous gaudy shirt, decided to strike up conversation.

“Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Become a stripper.”

“Kept me fit during college and the tips were good.”

“Then why’d you quit?”

“I wanted to be an agent more than I wanted money.”

Eventually the wordless drone of EDM faded and Shook Me All Night Long began to beat across the room. Y/N jumped right up onto his feet, his hands open and out for Spencer to take, “Come on, up. No way to pass the time like dancing. And I’m not talking the kind from onstage!”

Spencer’s frown was hilariously contradictory, “We are tracking a serial killer, who likely has you for her next target.”

“I know, but we’re in a private room, and we’ve got another fifteen minutes at least to pass. We can’t do anything else, so up!”

“Y/N, I don’t dance. You know that.”

Sighing, Y/N’s head lolled back then rolled around to look Spencer dead in the eye, “Think logically. You need to leave this room, looking like you’ve just gotten the lap dance of your life, all hot and bothered. Either you get up and dance, or I’m gonna have to get in your lap again.”

Spencer blinked, “I know you think that’s a threat, but it’s really not.”

That caught Y/N off guard, and again when Spencer stood up and began a very awkward, very out of time two-step. Y/N let Spencer’s words go to focus on getting him more pumped.

“There we go! Let your body do all the talking.”

“My body is telling me to sit down.”

“Well… Ignore it then. It’s just us!”

Now, when his dances were coordinated like the one he had performed on stage, Y/N was rather good. Dancing outside of the stripping profession however was not his forte. One might even say he was worse than Spencer in this regard. Somehow the random arm movements alongside the bouncing on the balls of his feet were classified as “dancing”.

Spencer couldn’t laugh; his efforts, once he matched the energy, were no better. His curly hair jumping just a little delayed, that one lock that Y/N had pulled onstage still separate, he tried the headbanging like Y/N suggested. It was somewhat terrible, but not completely.

It was midway through the second song that the men fully allowed themselves to enjoy this silly moment in the sea of seriousness.

Only when Locked out of Heaven faded into more EDM did they stop for breath. They went halves on the couch and soaked up the temporary respite.

“Can’t imagine if it was Hotch in here instead of you,” Y/N panted. Spencer let out a little wheeze at the notion as he continued, “Not to undermine the importance of the job but I was glad it was you I was going undercover with. And I think you’re quite attractive too.”

It only took a fraction of a second for Spencer to understand what Y/N was referring to at the end. With a surge of confidence, he replied, “Only quite?”

“No offence to that exploding rainbow of a shirt, but I prefer you in your usual button-up and tie.”

They shared so much in that moment. Smiles, breath, honesty, the couch, endorphins. It went beyond the eye contact across the conference room’s table.

In a spike of nerves, Spencer reverted back to a constant in his life: facts.

“You know, dancing is meant to improve problem solving skills and reduces cortisol – a stress hormone – in the body. Furthermore, Dr Lovatt proved that dancing helps with social bonding. The synchrony involved in dancing to a beat along with other people is a powerful way for humans to connect.”

Y/N propped his head against his hand, arm leaning on the back of the couch as he watched Spencer’s facts unfurl.

“I didn’t know that,” He said quietly, “But it explains why it made me feel better about going back out there.”

“You weren’t nervous though. You weren’t tapping.” And Spencer pointed to Y/N’s hands, still as the rest of him.

Flexing his fingers before relaxing again, Y/N dared to look at Spencer again, “It’s why I said I’m glad I’m undercover with you.”

Spencer held that look, just for a little longer than before, checked his watch, “I guess we should get going if we wanna catch Marcie Lowenthal.”

“I suppose we’ll have to do our jobs,” sighed Y/N, only half joking.

Just before he was about to leave, Spencer was stopped by Y/N, who proceeded to untuck Spencer’s shirt and pull the end of his belt out of the loop.

“Make sure she sees you looking like this.”

Spencer gave him an incongruously polite nod before exiting. Once in view of the unsub, he made a show of adjusting his appearance before going to the bar to get another drink. Y/N took his time before coming out with the stack of bills tucked into his hot pants.

His dancing continued but back to its regularly slutty program. It was an hour with a hen do, six women who were tipsy and very liberal with their dollars. Sometimes Y/N found JJ and Emily while he was blending in, and though he couldn’t smile, and neither could they, he felt that safety net secured. Safer still when he passed them by on his way to the bar where Marcie Lowenthal was nursing a beer in a flower-patterned shirt and black skirt.

She was the one who initiated contact, stroking over Y/N’s arm to get his attention as he passed.

“Hello,” Marcie leant over to speak in his ear, “I enjoyed your dance earlier.”

“Thank you.”

“You versatile?”

“I can be anything you want.” And Y/N touched her waist, “I can make you feel good.”

With a catlike grin, Marcie leant in to whisper, “When do you get off?”

“Doesn’t matter if I do, it’s all about you, darling.” She let out a bark of laughter before Y/N managed to answer her question properly, “I finish in an hour.”

It was then that he realised Marcie was gripping his arm tight, “Meet me outside, in the back alley, in fifteen minutes.”

The team was right; she was escalating, devolving now that she was planning the murder before the night was done.

Y/N kept up the mask of intrigue, though he was cringing into himself underneath. “In here not good enough for you?”

“I like it dirty.”

“Alright then. I’ll see you there.” He winked before heading towards the dressing room.

His palms were a bit sweaty. That soon changed as he stepped outside in just his pants and a button up he’d brought for this very occasion. The alleyway seemed empty, aside from the unsub waiting by the dumpster. But Y/N kept faith that his team was ready and waiting nearby as he approached Marcie who was wrapped up in her leather jacket.

It was when she reached for something in her pocket that the hem lifted and Y/N saw the belt around her waist, hoisting the skirt up over her hips. About one and a half inches wide.

From her jacket pocket, Marcie procured a silk tie, “I like my men seen and not heard.”

“My safe-word is ‘alligator’,” Y/N said before opening his mouth.

Silk never was his favourite form of gag; it was too soft, too soggy once in the mouth. Marcie tied it roughly around the back of his head, causing Y/N to grunt and again when she tugged again with another around his wrists. Then he felt it. The cold tip of a blade pressed against his stomach.

“Turn around,” Marcie spoke through gritted teeth. A glance behind her and Y/N could see the shadows of his fellow agents gaining on them. Complying, he turned around as slowly as possible. The tip of the knife dragged across his skin.

“FBI! Marcie Lowenthal, drop the knife!“

Derek’s booming voice caught Marcie off guard, the knife breaking the skin of Y/N’s lower back.

“Drop it!” Hotch stated with less volume but just as much authority, “You don’t have to do this.”

“Drop the knife and step away from him,” Emily backed up from the other end of the alleyway, taking a step towards them.

Seeing that she was surrounded, Marcie crumbled and dropped the knife. It clinked away somewhere to the right. The team swarmed on her.

“Hands in the air, on your knees!”

The grind of handcuffs snapping around her wrists was the cue. Y/N ripped the gag from his mouth and began untying his hands; he was quick to pass the agents and officers to get on the street. There, he placed the tie in an evidence bag on his way out of the alleyway. Spencer, FBI vest atop his stripy shirt, held out Y/N’s coat for him. He thanked Spencer. He kept his “now I look like a flasher” comment to himself.

Lowenthal did not go quietly, not even as she was forced into a cop car to be driven to the station.

“Straight people are fucking headcases,” Y/N muttered to himself as he ducked around various onlookers.

“The tie,” Emily remarked as she saw the second one being examined, “It was her first anniversary present to Andrew. The others were ones purchased after he found out he was gay.”

“And Andrew couldn’t say anything about her behaviour or else she’d out him,” concluded Y/N.

With a nod, Emily touched his shoulder, “You alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” and Y/N squeezed her hand before heading over to the club – hopefully for the last time. By the corner of the building, he found Mimi waiting and watching.

She spotted him and spoke quickly, “You take care of yourself.”

She pulled him into a hug. Y/N had enough time to say “you too” before breaking away and joining the team to drive back to the station. Mimi had already vanished from the scene by the time Y/N was looking out the passenger window, driving by the hubbub of Encore.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Thankfully, Y/N was granted the opportunity to change before getting on the jet home – as was Spencer. Both were in their comfort clothing: a hoodie and joggers, and a cardigan paired with slacks respectively. Claiming the couch, Y/N curled up around his pillow and rubbed over the bruise that he could feel growing on his shin. His friends were occupied with their own activities. Everyone was too wired to sleep.

“Get many tips?” Emily joked about fifteen minutes into the flight.

“I did alright, and no wank stains on ‘em either. Makes you rethink your career choices?”

“No stains? That’s how you know you’ve hit the big time.”

“I’m a luxury few can afford.” A pause followed as Y/N thought on the money tucked into his bag’s front pocket, then he addressed the cabin, “Y’all better not think any less of me because I used to strip.”

“Of course not,” JJ spoke up immediately, and a wave of agreement swept through the cabin.

“We’d never judge you for that,” Rossi added.

“Good,” Y/N stood up in the middle of the aisle, “Feel free to judge me for keeping these though.”

And he dropped his joggers to reveal a pair of hot pink hot pants with “BABY SLUT” in sparkly letters on his rear – just visible below the hem of his black FBI hoodie.

Instantly JJ and Derek exploded into splutters, Derek fumbling with his phone to take a photo. Emily was well on her way to laughter as she gawped and grinned. Spencer was hiding behind his book, his eyes peeking over the top. They were crinkled at the corners so Y/N could tell he was smiling. Even Rossi and Hotch had the tiniest of smirks that lit up their eyes with mirth.

“Look at you, Hot Stuff!” Derek cheered.

“Think this is a better uniform than the vest? Alright,” Y/N held a hand up to Hotch who had either opened his mouth to speak or had just forgotten to control his jaw, “I’m putting them away.”

Just like that, he pulled up his jogging bottoms again and fell back onto the couch, as if nothing ever happened. He was pleased as punch that he could joke about this with his co-workers and not at his expense.

A spare glance landed on Spencer, who had dropped his book into his lap and was suddenly very interested in the cuff of his left sleeve. Y/N made no comment but felt very pleased that he’d gotten another response from the doctor.

Sitting in silence, he folded his arms around the pillow, pulling it into his chest. That silence continued until they had landed and were back in the office to drop off the paperwork, ready for revisiting tomorrow. That was when they were alone, when Y/N made his move to speak to Spencer.

“Hey,” he started, drawing Spencer’s attention away from his shoulder bag, “I am sorry about all the touching on this case. I know you don’t like it.”

“Oh, I didn’t mind.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Spencer’s eyes widened and his hand reached out as if to grab them from the air and drag them back, “I, um, I mean I understood that you had- it was necessary for your cover to remain intact; you don’t have to apologise.”

Y/N couldn’t really do anything other than blink. It felt a little formal after their previous interactions, more awkward after the “attractive” comment they had shared.

“Good, no bad blood?”

“Not at all.”

Walking away from the desk when Spencer dragged Y/N’S attention back with a burst of words, “A-And I wanted to say I don’t care that you were a sex worker. In fact, I think you’re brave. Not just on this case; going up to on that stage when you were in college, dancing for all those people, and doing that with a serial killer last night, that took a lot of guts. I really respect that. You, I respect you, Y/N.”

God, that was attractive. That flow of words that were often statistics or fact Spencer had tucked away in that brain of his, something Y/N never wanted to interrupt and it was admiration, understanding, for him.

“Thank you, Spencer.”

Then Y/N remembered something else. The front pocket of his bag was unzipped and he held out the bills to Spencer, “Kept your private room refund stain free.”

The brushing of fingers during the exchange of money filled Y/N with more butterflies than the entire outing in the club.

“Thank you.” Spencer tapped the bills between his thumb and forefinger, looking back to Y/N, “Maybe I could buy you dinner some time, with this stain free money.”

Y/N bit the inside of his cheek to restrain his glee, yet still a comforting smile beamed at Spencer, “I’d like that.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“Real intimacy is a sacred experience. It never exposes its secret trust and belonging to the voyeuristic eye of a neon culture. Real intimacy is of the soul, and the soul is reserved.” ― John O'Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #my writing #wc: 5k+#imagine #r: male

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kaiju-z · 4 years ago

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Seon Adventures, Episode 34: The Journey to Tutum

When last we left off our adventurers, the party had prevented a duel to the death between Mournimar and a duelist, hired by his ex-boyfriend, follower of Potencia Lazarus, rescued a talking Celestial Warlock Dog named Samson by brutally overkilling a group of deserters from the war and reached the border of Aetorumia and the neighbouring lands.

In the evening, while Malak confronted Luctan over his past behavior and gifted him an Orb of Direction, Samson the Corgi nearly escaped with his life, avoiding a fight with the spirits ithat dwelled within the well he attempted to steal money from. In the morning, Malak would express his displeasure in the party’s actions against the ex-soldiers, empasionately as Malak would allow himself demanding that they could and should do better than this, before also gifting them items of their own.

A Pipe Of Rememberence for Jun, a Handy Spice Pouch for Belli and a Pot Of Awakening for Mournimar. He would then finish his meal outside, before the five + Samson would reconvene on their journeys...

To everyone’s surprise, however, at some point, while Malak bought a map, Luck made a 7 gold coin offering at the shrine and the rest restocked any provisions they might have sacrificed on the journey so far, Samson had trotted off on his own little adventure. A one dog army~!

After paying the Innkeeper handsomely for her food and donating for her establishment’s futue, the party would get in their carriage and, led by Kevin and Killer, make their way out the border town, their eyes taking in the massive expands of sands and dunes. No structures in sight, Malak being quite familiar to it. Having known this shit and the thought he’d said goodbye to it coming back to haunt him.

Before the group could leave on their weeks long journey, a laugh would catch their ears and as they’d turn their heads in the direction of the amused fellow, they’d see an aged orange haired man with a shit eating grin, making japes at the group for traveling as they appeared. In plates and leathers and all that sort of stuff.

Questioning the scarred man’s attitude, the party would note that he appeared off-proportioned in a way. Somewhat dwarven, but much taller. A Half-Dwarf!

While Jun asks him if he could guide them, which he planned to offer his services for the very pricey 2 PIECES OF GOLD FOR EACH SIDE OF THE TREK, Malak would recognize his colors as being of the Galorum army. Old enemies of Aeterumia, during the war. But to Malak, that was old news. Yesterday’s enemy was today’s ally and all that.

With a wooden leg and a confident demeanor, Arryn, as he introduces himself to the party and they back to him, appeared to be the kinda guy who just hopes for work. And work he finds as the party accept him on this long journey, to guide them and keep them from walking off the path.

It pretty quickly sets in on the team just how hot it can be in the desert. And the air itself was so thick. Extra THICK, even! It felt like there was led in the air or some thing at later evenings they’d spend out in the open. Temperatures being like under a blanket, but also nasty and humid.

The guide would mention it being left over bad energy from the war. The area is inflicted with the worst vibes. The vibes that took Arryn’s leg.

Days would pass. Weeks even as the group advanced through the dunes, past hills and rocks and rocks and small mountains around them, generally peacefully, with the exclusion of any foul business. Sure enough, Arryn was a trusted guide through these parts, getting them through the sands, to some more solid areas of rock and gravel.

The walk was a lot more even and paced from there, with the obvious dunes carrying on in the distance, but something would catch the travelers’ attention. Bones. They’d see lots of bones. Almost like a trail of them, leading to this sheer clear cliff face.

Investigating them, Malak would note that they were weirdly in tact, some of them. Dead and untouched. But there’s kind of a little curve around the corner, where the bone trail leads… He’d pick up a skull and cast “Speak With Dead”

“EYY!” the awoken skull would commence.

And the questions and answers would begin.

1. “How did you die?”- “Well, I was walking, right? And then there was this hot and cold stuff. And then it was just everywhere and it was really hot? And there was this big flappy beast behind me.”

2. What were you doing out here?” “Me and my friends were following a trail of bones and figured whatever did this’gotta be guarding some good shit.”

3. “Were you being guided by a peg legged man?” –“No, we didn’t get a guide. We thought it was a waste of treasure and had to share.”

4. “Did you have anything on you?” “I mean, we had our weapons and armor.”

5. “Is there anyone you’d like informed?” – “If me mate Chaz made it, he’s probably back at Havik by now.”

With the air of life leaving the skull, Malak would update the crew on his findings. From there, Jun would elect to poke the distracted Bard and suggest she send Orion to investigate the inner sanctum of the bone yard.

Orion slinks off and his body shrinks into the size of a normal cat, much to Belli’s amusement and the rest’s shock and awe.

He sneaks around the corner. Belli looks through his eyes. What happens is that he turns the corner and there’s this huge mammoth bone. Think elephant graveyard. He walks under that and he does a perceive... He steps out into the open, looks back where he came from and then Belli notices that the ground gets further away.

A pause. And poof. He’s gone.

Mournimar sneaks in, next, with a rope around his waist and careful maneuvering, feeling unseen as he makes his way through the yard, while Malak casts Aid on Arryn and the ladies. As the low armored part of the team.

With a careful eye, Mournimar sees the source of all these corpses. And as the Rogueish Ranger would raise his head up, the others would follow suit. And sea an Adult Blue Dragon, staring confusedly at his clawed mits, wondering where his quick little meal went. A great big fuck off blue dragon.

Electing to avoid a fight with the dragon, for now, the group would carefully maneuver their way back to the carriage and do a big twist to avoid being directly seen by the dragon as they’d carry on and cross a river, along the way..

One evening, during shifts, Luctan taking the first... the disguised tiefling would wake Jun and ask her for her presense during his watch. The two would hold a private conversation, regarding Jun’s offer to hear him out, where they’d discuss the matter of trust, personal insecurities and pain, the understanding of pain and treatment of pain... Capping things off with a genuine interest in learning how to carry on, after a tragedy, something which the unmasked red tiefling had trouble getting to terms with.

By the end of the 1st watch, Luctan and Jun would come to an understanding and carry on with talks when the time allowed it. But until then, Luck would wake Mournimar to follow through with the second sentry outlook, while he rested.

Mournimar’s watch would be uneventful, compared to what had occured in his dreams... Something he’d share with Belli, when the first signs of morning would come up.

The enthusiastic cook would poke for information, which the Tiefling Ranger would share, regailing Belli with a tale of his dream, wherein he was visited, or more like... found himself in Jorzoth’s office. One of the Archdevils had brought him in for a 1 on 1 pow-wow, where in he’d inform the archer of Lazarus’ intentions with the duelist.

Lazarus had intened, through this duel, for Mournimar to best his contractor as a means to check in on his ex.

...

To say that this is a weird way of checking on your ex, would be an understatement. And yet, that was the story he’d tell, through bites of an omlette.

In Mournimar’s own words, the break up and Potencia really changed him. Lazarus? He’s someone in need of praise. He used to be good and he was never like this before Potencia. There were... clear regrets there, in Mournimar’s mind and heart.

But Belli would protest to this thinking as you can’t change someone, who doesn’t want to change. While Mournimar doesn’t want him to be like how Mournimar was as a child, Belli reminds her friend that Lazarus is an adult, It’s his choice to make.

Breakfast is had amongst the group and Arryn remarks that this is the best hospitality he’s had. Ever.

From there? They’d venture forth and Malak tries to call Chaz. With a D100 he Sends a message to the dude. He gives him the full story, as best as possible. Chaz is sad, but the funeral was done already. He regets the nasty stuff he’s said over the year. But is greatful. Godspeed!

Drawing near to a river, Luctan would give Belli her pot. Like. Literal pot that had been in his posession for about a month now, give or take. Within one of the ceramic pots there were 10 silver ball bearings, each spelling a letter in Belli’s name.

And in turn, Belli would give Luck 5 smoke bombs. And she’d even show him her stash of a variety of bombs. Which she had been planning on using with the help of Orion as a dive bomber.

Stupified by his friend’s madcap ideas, Luck would be quiet for the most part during the next part of the journey as they’d cross over the river on a bridge and go through a town, populated by kobolds of different scales.

Initially weary of the group, they’d soon enough relax and observe, even follow them along as the party carried on through the town, when Malak appied his knowledge of the Draconic tongue, holding a friendly conversation with the locals, while Luck used his Prestidigitation to create funny images and smells for the kids.

As the town of Odum generally doesn’t generally get visitors, the party are kind of a treat to them. Through the talk, a kind of friendship forms with the Kobold settlement and the party learn that the dragon of the desert was quite the nasty one. Every time they’d send someone over to check what his demeanor was, they’d have to send another one, to check as well, because no one ever came back.

Mental note.

In the midst of this conversation, Jun would make friends with two of the littlest kobold kids, who’d climb on her and ask her all kinds of questions. Like why her face was the way it was. She’d happily use her shapeshifting power to appear like a Golden Dragonborn, much to the kids’ amusment.

With friendship in their heardts, the party would eventually carry on, venturing forth! Arryn would warn them that the next week is just gonna be desert. There’s a lake at some point, but that’s our lot.

While the week’s travel carries on, Belli shows off her vocal skills as she speaks in a few new languages she had picked. Among which was Dwarven, much to Luck’s shock. And frustration. ‘cause it took him 3 years to learn that on his own!

(”What? Like it’s hard.”)

Arryn, however, upon hearing Belli speak in Dwarven turns pale. When asked if he’s ok, the half-dwarf would reveal that anyone’d be shocked on hearing a nearly dead language.

In one day the dwarves and dragonborn in the area died off. Green evil magic took then down. Arryn survived, because he is part human. Malak knows this to be the effect of the Blight spell, but on a major level.

Jun suggests Steamroot to help with the pain. Her partner was hit with that spell and it had helped manage that. Arryn’s greatful for the suggestion.

They’d venture forth, once more, parallel to the main road. Mournimar asks about why we’re not on the main road. Bad things, ghosts, appear on the main road. Ghosts of the Dragonborn, particularly dangerous spirits. Spirits are his expertise and avoiding them is where the expertise is at.

One particular night, deep into their expedition, Arryn asks them over a warm evening meal where exactly they were headed. Not to Tutum itself, right?

The party reveal some of what they’re after, but that seems to be more than enough for Arryn to put 2 and 2 together.

“Of course, it’d make sense for them to eventually send someone to clean their tracks.” he’d remark, which in turn would push the party to question him on what he meant.

Arryn would say that it was never confirmed, but implied that the Council was involved in what happened to the dwarves and dragonborn. According to him, as he’d elaborate on events from the battle, as he was a soldier at the time, two dragons were in on the plan. One was dragged off to Guan and the other slain by the King’s Blade, which was burried within the tomb, onward.

Before anyone can stop her, a furious Belli’d send a message to River, demanding answers that she wasn’t even sure of the Halfling would have.

A hurt River would reply back with as much as she claimed to know, which was that this was a private job being done for a benefactor she couldn’t disclose. Upset, she’d question if Belli mistrusted her now?!

A debate is held on how to proceed.

Ultimately, the party agree to go talk to the sword and get the facts straight. From there they’d see where they’d go..

Arryn would remark with surprise on how quickly they’d trust what he had to say had any truth to it.

As the journey continued, they’d avoid the ghost town. Like. Town of ghosts. And keep going and going to a cave with funky carving.

There are carvings of a Tiefling with a big, big chonky sword. Fighting a dragon. An outline of an army that kind of fades and half of them disappear...

Underneath this is this really fine intricate dwarven lettering and runes. As we get to the shrine, we end the session.

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impracticaldemon · 6 years ago

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Traffic Duty

Hakuouki fanfiction by impracticaldemon for Eliz1369 ~ Happy Birthday!

PART II of the Okita-Chizuru story Parking Ticket, in which Detective Okita Souji was demoted to traffic duty both as a punishment, and in order to go under cover to locate a mysteriously missing murdered man.

Summary: In Traffic Duty, Okita discovers that the policewoman who got him into trouble in the first place - by being right about ending a police pursuit - has been given the task of making him maintain his cover role by performing his duties as a traffic cop. But things heat up even before they hit the streets, when Okita begins to suspect his new partner of withholding information critical to the investigation.

Traffic Duty

“You’re Yukimura, right?”

Sōji eyed the young policewoman with more attention than he’d given her the first time they’d met. He was more observant than most people realized, but the circumstances had been less than optimal.

“Yes, Detective—that is, Okita-san.” She ducked her head apologetically. “Please excuse me for not using your proper rank, sir, but I was instructed not to give away your cover as a member of the regular forces.”

“I don’t care either way, but that’s ridiculous. If it’s a small-scale operation, it will sort itself out whether they know who I am or not—plus, I doubt they’d have ears on us here in the station. If it’s something worth my time, then there’s a good chance they already know me.”

He turned away, fighting the urge to vent his bad mood on the too-serious Yukimura. He was pretty sure the whole ‘traffic cop as cover story’ thing had been set up just to irritate him, but that wasn’t her fault. To his surprise, since she seemed rather timid, Yukimura pursued the issue.

“Most respectfully, Okita-san, it seems useful to me to retain any advantage we might have. And even if you are recognized, it is not—that is, I’m told it is not—entirely unbelievable that this is an actual punishment detail for you, rather than a covert operation.”

Sōji shut his teeth on an expletive before looking back at her. If his expression scared her a bit, too bad; at least he was being civil. Besides, it irked him that she was right. He brought his hands together in silent applause.

“You have a point there, Yukimura, good job.”

To his dismay, his new ‘partner’ gave him a tentative smile. He groaned inwardly. This was what came of being too polite; people like her took it the wrong way and tried to get to know him.

“Thank you, Okita-san. Welcome to the station. I hope we will work well together.” She bowed, then picked up a take-away cup from the counter behind her, and held it out to him. What was with this kid? She had to know she’d gotten him into trouble, and he’d made it pretty clear he didn’t want to be here. Plus, his reputation usually preceded him.

“I don’t like coffee,” he snapped. That was stretching the truth, but good enough for an overly-helpful and temporary working acquaintance. Besides, even Hajime-kun had been known to (silently) agree with Shinpachi’s declaration that the stuff he drank could no longer be called coffee.

Yukimura looked cast down for a moment, but persevered. “I—I inquired into your preferences, Okita-san, and the coffee has extra cream and triple sugar.”

He stared at her. Big brown eyes, way too innocent and hopeful for any kind of cop; trim figure, a bit on the smallish side, in a buttoned-to-the-collar regulation uniform; dark hair, neatly pinned up under her peaked cap. Nothing to indicate that she was trying to attract, seduce, or play up to him. He hated not being able to identify a person’s motivations.

“Are you a waitress, or a cop? I’m not here because I want to be, or because I think anything will turn up. If you’d bothered to listen to the gossip about me, you’d know that I’m not out to be buddies with anyone, especially a kid who’s never worked a major crime in her life.”

Yukimura bowed again, small hands still clasping the rejected coffee. Sōji found he had to squelch an unusual sense of guilt, but told himself she’d be better off learning to be less… less personal… with her colleagues. He ignored the feeling that Hajime-kun would be looking disapproving right about now—his partner was a good man in a fight, and he trusted him to the hilt, but he had his flaws.

“I apologize if I offended you, Okita-san. Please come this way, I was told to discuss the details of this assignment with you before we went on duty.” She was apparently more composed than he’d thought. He could usually get a read on just about anyone, if he bothered to try, but although his instincts said she was upset, the set to her shoulders suggested irritation rather than tears. Not that he cared.

They made their way into a small meeting room, and Sōji was relieved to see a file on the table with his name on it. He flipped it open, hoping for updated information on the missing body, then sighed, and ran his eyes over his new patrol route. His not-nearly-temporary-enough official job was to be on the lookout for traffic infractions and major parking violations, especially those that impeded emergency vehicle zones and public transportation.

When he looked up from the file, he automatically reached for his coffee and took a long swig. It wasn’t bad, though he preferred it hotter. Then he glared at his deceptively innocent-looking companion, who had obviously put the cup down beside him the moment he wasn’t paying attention. After a few seconds of that, he decided to ignore the whole coffee skirmish, so that they could get on to the more important part of the briefing.

“Okay, so I’ve got the gist of my cover. I figure you’ll handle any actual stuff for Traffic, and I’ll just keep an eye on you in the unlikely event somebody tries to get at you. What I want to know—”

“I apologize for interrupting, Okita-san, but my instructions were to ensure that you handled all aspects of the job. Otherwise, it would be clear that I wasn’t training you.”

He leaned across the scarred wooden table, and used his height to glower down at her.

“Officer Yukimura. I know for a fact that a suspicious individual drove off from the scene of a shooting, in a highly identifiable car, carrying the swiss-cheese version of a corpse. I know that said car drove through the intersection at which you were stationed. I know that you gave me the signal for ‘do not pursue’, but to be honest, I assumed you got the signal wrong. You directed me to turn right, when the fleeing vehicle was going straight, and at that point I admit I stopped paying attention. I was trying to overtake a probable murderer and the evidence of his crime, and you seemed like an idiot. I want to hear your version of events—you were a little vague at the time of the incident.”

Despite his attempt at outright bullying, there was a stubborn set to Yukimura’s lips that boded ill for both of them. “I would be happy to discuss the case with you, Okita-san. We just need to go over the patrol route first—I have a few extra details to pass along about the neighbourhood, and what we do.”

Okita crossed his arms so as not to bang a fist on the table. Like hell he was going to listen to the warblings of the local Neighbourhood Watch Association, and all the petty information that was important to Yukimura’s job, not his.

“You seriously expect me to play traffic cop? Do I at least get to drive, or is that too much to ask for a lowly officer like myself?”

It was a dumb gibe, since ranking officers usually didn’t do the driving, but Yukimura finally looked a little panicked. “I think you must already know this, Okita-san, but my division patrols on bicycle, or on foot, depending on the exact area and problems expected.”

“Ah, so if we spot any potential gangsters, or wanted murders, then we’ll pedal madly in pursuit! I think there’s some anime about the power of the pedal, isn’t there? Never watched much of that kind of thing myself, but I have a colleague who does. It’s all too rah rah and cheerful for me.”

“Anime is not necessarily known for being cheerful, Okita-san. Um, I mean—”

“Oh, you like anime, too? Well, I suppose it’s okay for kids like you and Heisuke.” If she’d known him better, the sudden gleam in his green eyes would have warned her that he knew just how to wind up anyone who cared about anime. As it was, she suspected him of making fun of her, but wasn’t sure what points to argue.

“I don’t watch a lot of anime, because so much of it is dark, disturbing, or violent! Some of the artwork is nice, I suppose, but there isn’t a lot of anime suitable for children.”

“Awwwwww… Well, how about slightly serious historical dramas then? But not too serious, because true love must triumph over annoyances like money and power. You ever notice how they rarely have epilogues for those shows?” He snickered.

“Is Okita-san a fan of historical drama?”

“No! Oh for the gods’ sakes, what the hell are we even talking about?!”

Yukimura took a deep breath. “We will not be pedalling after—or running after—any gangsters or murderers, Okita-san. Assuming we come across anything, you will be contacting Detective Saitō, and then your headquarters, and I will be taking notes. The problem last time was that we missed certain details—”

“Such as?”

“Well…” Yukimura pulled a map from the folder she hadn’t left sitting out for him.

Where did she get that? Ah—he could see that there was a semi-concealed, spring-latched drawer on each side of the table. Convenient if you wanted something handy, but out of sight, or had to leave in a hurry and needed a quick place for your notes. Most people would know about the drawers, of course, but ‘out of sight, out of mind’ was surprisingly effective—for a lot of things, anyway.

“Oi—why didn’t you give me that from the start?” He cranked up the glower again.

“Because I was told to focus on your cover first, and the case second—in case you ignored the first part!”

Were her cheeks a little red? He was finally getting to her.

“Right, got it. Look, aside from our slight disagreement about what I’ll be doing, I don’t think there will be a problem with our so-called work.” Leaning forward, and holding her gaze, Sōji rattled off a summary of their assigned route, the major landmarks and hazards—he was curious about a bookstore with the notation ‘does not sell books—dislikes customers’—and the heavy-traffic areas. He then pointed out the key emergency and public transportation lanes, and finished with an overview of the two low-income housing projects, which were prone to drug and prostitution problems. In deference to his desire to move things along, he didn’t add his usual comment that the high-income neighbourhoods had far more serious problems, but got to pay society in tabloid stories and ‘contributions’ to public salaries, rather than jail time.

Yukimura was visibly impressed, but it suddenly dawned on Sōji that he’d been showing off—which wasn’t his usual style. Never let anyone see your whole hand. He covered his discomfort by stabbing a finger into the map the girl had set between them.

“So? Tell me about the case. What did we miss?”

To her credit, she stopped staring at him immediately, and got with the program.

“Well, that particular area has automatic weighing scales at two hard-to-miss points, to ensure that only light trucks use the streets that are mixed residential-commercial. The car didn’t set off any alarms, of course, but if you get there fast enough there’s a video record of all vehicles, with the digital weight shown beside them. We were able to find and compare the weights of the car at the two points and it was definitely lighter by the time it hit the checkpoint just past the intersection where I was stationed after we got word of the chase.”

Ah—that would be the intersection where Sōji had ignored her clear, but apparently useless signals, in order to pursue, pull over, and—in the words of the complaint—harrass a prominent citizen without due cause in order to uncover absolutely nothing of interest in the man’s trunk or backseat. The way the guy had grinned at him made it a cinch that Sōji hadn’t gotten the wrong car, but the police force had been officially embarrassed, and that was that.

“So we have a potential lead for where the body was transferred. Good thinking.” All business now, Sōji frowned. “But you said you discovered this after the fact. So how did you know I was following the wrong guy at the time of the pursuit?”

For the first time, Yukimura—what was her first name again?—looked a little shifty. Or she would, if her face were able to express anything so sordid. Honestly, he could see her in Hello Kitty pajamas with little pink bows on the sleeves. …And where did that come from?

“Um, well, Okita-san, I just… I just knew. The driver of the car was far too care-free for a man with a body in the trunk.”

Sōji’s mind switched from Hello Kitty nightwear to the utter garbage this girl was suddenly trying to feed him.

“Bullshit. No rookie traffic cop would try to signal an unmarked police car away from a hot pursuit on a hunch. Is this seriously the line you gave your boss? And they’re mad at me?”

“Well—well—it’s not just that—um, you see, I’d seen a hearse turn at the lights shortly before the sportscar, and it seemed suspicious!”

“Why? What made it suspicious?”

“Er… well… there was no procession?”

“Duh, lots of hearses travel on business picking up stiffs from homes and hospitals and so on. Hell, maybe the mortician was out looking for donuts and a coffee.”

“No, he only drinks tea, and his partner is forcing him to watch his weight right now.”

“Come again?”

“Um, I mean, we do deal with the undertakers quite often, you know, because of funerals, and of course there are several, but I’ve gotten to know them, and only one of them—because he owns the business—sometimes goes out for coffee in the hearse. Only, he doesn’t drink coffee.”

She was babbling, and they both knew it. Sōji walked around the table, and perched himself right beside the struggling policewoman. He leaned down into her face, which was undeniably red, and stared silently at her until she met his gaze.

“Cut the crap, and tell me what you know. Otherwise I’ll refuse to work further with you on the grounds that you’re hiding something from the police about this case.”

“Okita-san!”

“Yes, Officer Yukimura? Care to try me?” It was a sign of how serious he was that Sōji didn’t smirk at the possible innuendo.

“I know this whole neighbourhood very well. I’m a—a community liaison officer.”

“Goody for you.”

“The car you were following—I recognized the driver as one of our recent trouble-makers. He’s rich—or his father is—but his friend is even richer, and I have a feeling—"

“Like the one about the hearse being suspicious?”

Her face darkened, but she ignored him. He was impressed, despite himself. He’d gotten into her space, and as uncomfortable as she was, she was still fighting.

“I think they’re trouble. They’ve been in the neighborhood for just over six months, and our general crime rate’s been rising steadily, and too fast to be coincidence—”

“Do you suspect drugs? That was the case I was following.” Great, now he was talking to her like a real cop, instead of a glorified meter-maid with hunches and feelings about serious crimes.

“Yes, I suppose drugs could be part of it.” She said it almost casually, as though dangerous drugs weren’t already way above her pay grade and experience.

Frustrated, Sōji leaned in even further. He knew the kind of effect he had on people, especially impressionable young women.

“Spill.”

The girl stood up abruptly, faster than even Sōji’s reflexes could account for. Predictably, the back of her head caught the point of his jaw, and they both stumbled. Funny really. He could usually see these things coming a mile a way. It was probably her weird conversation—it had distracted him.

“Holy mother of a duck that hurt!” Gingerly testing his chin and lower lip with his fingers, Sōji glared at his assailant. “You really do have rocks in your head, don’t you?!”

“Aaaah! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”

There was a sharp rap on the door.

“Yukimura-kun?”

The door opened immediately to admit a big man with all the hallmarks of an old-school cop, starting with his build, and ending with a nose that had clearly been broken more than once. He was sizing up Sōji the way a protective older brother might eye his youngest sister’s bad-boy date.

Yukimura hurried to put a smile on her face. “I’m fine, Shimada-san! Um, um, Okita-san was looking at the m-map with me, and I moved too quickly, and we bumped heads!”

Wait—why was she lying for him? He’d been a bit of an asshole, and she’d reacted to him invading her space. Not that he trusted her answers yet, by a long shot, but she was a cop (somehow), and he was treating her like he’d treat a suspect.

“Hmm.” Dark, thoughtful eyes assessed Sōji from a height that easily topped his own unusually tall five foot ten. “I understand. I apologize for interrupting, sir.” He nodded to Sōji, and gently closed the door behind him. Or Sōji thought he had, until he reappeared briefly to add: “Yukimura-kun is one of our best analysts, Okita-san. She is currently working in a couple of field areas in order to give her more insight into how data is gathered, and how best to train our future investigators.”

The moment the door was firmly shut again, Sōji narrowed his eyes at Yukimura. It occurred to him—for no apparent reason—that he’d been glaring at the kid for most of the time they’d known each other.

“More mysteries, Officer Yukimura? I read your file and—” No, wait, he hadn’t read her complete file. He’d been suspicious of her, so he’d checked her out, but there’d been a lot going on, and it hadn’t been a priority.

“Okita-san?”

“And anyway, why did you lie for me? I told you, I don’t need any favours.”

Yukimura reddened again, but murmured, “…I thought it would be complicated and take too long to explain…”

“I guess. So back to your highly-accurate suspicions and the hearse and so on.” He made a ‘come on, hurry it up’ gesture.

“The man you were chasing was Shiranui Kyo—”

“Yeah, I know—highly identifiable guy in a bright red sports car. He was carrying guns, but had a permit—though I’d love to know who he bribed for it. Car’s not his.”

“Right, so, as I was saying, we’ve had cause to suspect a problem, but nothing tangible. But it means I tend to, um, pay attention, when I see him around.”

“Oh? It’s not just the long hair and tattoo?”

“No—that is, he does stand out, I suppose, but that’s not the point. Except that maybe that’s why they use him for distraction, don’t you think?” She ignored, or didn’t notice, any personal implications. Grudgingly, Sōji came to the conclusion that she was focussed on her story—or was such a pro that he couldn’t tell she was lying. Gods, if she was a pro, he’d eat his hat. He glanced sourly at the uniform cap he’d tossed onto the table—he wasn’t looking forward to wearing that again. Unaware of his bizarre inward musings, Yukimura had continued with her story—or thoughts—or feelings.

“The thing is, about a month ago, something strange happened. Most of the new crime has involved property theft, although the scope has ranged from wallets to full-scale house clear-outs. In this case, some unusual, and expensive, scientific equipment was stolen, and although the perpetrator was spotted leaving the scene of the crime, in a red sports car, when we finally pulled the man over, the car was empty.”

“Okay?” But she had his attention, now.

“So when the report came in about your case—that there had been multiple shootings, and a probable murder, and you were in pursuit—I was paying close attention. More than I would anyway, I mean—um, that sounded wrong…”

“Why? I mean what made you pay special attention other than a mere shooting and probable murder?” He really couldn’t help the irony.

“Because something was bothering me about the original crime—the one with the science equipment—but I couldn’t explain exactly what. Fortunately, I’d figured it out by the time you arrived in pursuit this time.”

Sōji waved at her impatiently to continue—again—trying not to wince as he replayed the rest of the scenario in his head. The truth was, he’d written off her signals, and then gotten the Department into a legal brangle with the Shiranui guy over the way he’d dragged the punk out of his car. Dragged him, my ass. The guy’d been smirking at him the whole time.

“Well, you see, the exact same hearse made the exact same turn on the day the scientific equipment was stolen. And… that alerted my suspicions.”

Sōji suddenly felt a little better.

“So you did still signal me to change directions on nothing but a hunch.” When she hesitated, he cuffed her lightly on the shoulder. “Aw, come on, I’ll admit it was a hunch backed up by a strong coincidence. And I probably should have stopped.”

“Well, there was one more thing to back up my… my hunch.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t recognize the hearse.”

“And you recognize every hearse in this city?” He grinned at her, hoping a more friendly look would finally convince her to come clean.

“Well no…”

“I didn’t think so—”

“But I do know most of them.” When he looked skeptical, she shrugged. “I have a good memory for, um, details.”

“You pay attention to hearses?”

“Er…”

She wasn’t a good liar. But Sōji couldn’t imagine what she could be hiding, and wherever her guess about following the hearse had come from, there was just enough, barely, to make it worth looking into.

“So, to sum up, you saw the same guy, driving hell bent for leather in the same direction as in crime one—the science equipment—and you saw the same hearse—you think—turning in the same direction as in crime one, and that made you try to direct me away from the sports car and in the direction of the hearse?”

Yukimura appeared to be thinking hard. What was so hard about it? She had him half-convinced there might be a connection, and he’d stopped making fun of her—mostly.

“Oh! And there was one other thing!”

“…Okay?”

“The license plate of the hearse was unreadable both times. It was all covered in dust and mud. But the rest of it was really clean, as you’d expect in a business like that. So it looked deliberate.”

Sōji rolled his eyes.

“Why didn’t you start with that? I mean it’s small, but it’s highly suspicious. It’s the kind of concrete stuff prosecutors love in court—or when we need a judge’s order to examine private property.”

He almost shook his head when he saw the girl’s expression. Her eyes were shining as though he’d given her a commendation, instead of less praise than she probably deserved.

“Well then, let’s get to it.”

Silence.

“But, um, I’m sorry, Okita-san… We’re supposed to follow my regular patrol schedule, not go—” She trailed off abruptly, no doubt because he’d turned to bang his head against the wall.

“Did you—does Hajime-kun—Detective Saitō—know all this?”

She hesitated. “Mostly? I assume? I mean, the summary of all this is in my final report… Except I’m not sure I added the bit about the license plate—because… because your questions are what made me suddenly remember about that.”

“Just to be clear: everyone but me has a copy of your final report, which is the folder in front of you, which you were told to discuss with me only after we’d discussed my duties as a traffic cop.”

Sōji kept his face to the wall for a little longer. He wanted to murder somebody, preferably Hijikata, and he suspected—call it a hunch!—that it showed on his face. When he finally turned around, he was all business, and he saw the optimism rise again in Yukimura’s pretty face. He still had the sense that something was off, but until he knew more, he was going to do what he was told, mostly. Besides, that in itself would make Hijikata uncomfortable, with any luck.

~~~~~

Yukimura Chizuru was doing her best to stay calm, but it wasn’t easy. For one thing, she’d heard all about Detective Okita’s good looks and bad-boy attitude, but she hadn’t expected to be, maybe, a little impressed with him. Or affected by the good looks. She’d never noticed anyone in that way before—that she knew of—and it was disconcerting.

More importantly, she was wondering how long she could keep coming up with reasonable explanations for knowing things she shouldn’t. She was quite proud of having remembered the license plate anomaly. Not that it wasn’t true! She had noticed the dirt, exactly as stated. The problem was that she’d only started putting together all the details after she’d suddenly realized that the police should be following the hearse, not the sports car. And she didn’t think Okita-san would be keen on ‘I could sense a man dying from trauma injuries in the hearse’ as the real reason she’d wanted him to change directions.

[END of PART II]

Author’s Note: Will this be continued? Probably. But when I got to 5000 words (a mere 5x what I’d planned), I decided I had to stop somewhere. So there’s more already drafted, but other stories waiting to be written!

I hope you have/had a wonderful birthday, Eliz!! And I hope you enjoyed the story! :)

#hakuouki #haku fanfiction #okichi #okita souji #hakuouki cop au #imp writes #gift fic #eliz1369

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ticktockstuck · 5 years ago

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Atlas v1.3

The Atlas has been updated again! A lot of the changes are punch-up work on some already-written entries but we have added a new entry for a planet we’ve talked about and gone into a little detail about before.

Land of Blaze and Prairie:

Added a note saying that salamanders on different regions of the planet have different flame patterns/colors.

Some more landscape detailing.

Added a little more detail to the part about local produce.

Added some detail on Typheus’ minions, namely their ability to compress their bodies into the planet’s pipe network.

Land of Rot and Sparks:

Cleaned this one up and split each paragraph into a clear subject, and generally rewrote some points to make things clearer.

As part of the above, more detail on the native crocodiles and how they’ve adapted to the environment.

Land of Flood and Hive:

Expanded this one considerably with more detail for the Hive Colossi, how attempts to build there have failed, and on Hephaestus.

Added a section detailing how seadwellers have made the place into a haven for themselves.

Land of Ghouls and Ooze:

Reorganized the structure of this one and fleshed out some points.

Added a point about local cities, settler or otherwise, and how being on this planet impacts the culture.

Land of Blood and Gold:

Mostly tuned up some wording here and there to make things clearer.

Some more description on how the native salamanders have adapted.

Land of Dunes and Darkness:

A brand new entry! We’ve brought up this planet before, especially in relation to Skylla Koriga and the nowhere town of Tarnation, but we finally have an entry on it.

Its Denizen will remain unnamed for now but it shouldn’t be hard to figure out what I’m considering for it since its three minions are named.

The only part I want to mention here, because I had to cut it for space, is that the planet’s eternal night does have stars and starlight. Those “stars” are actually floating and glowing poppy flowers that rise out of the underground grotto network and hover in the air. When they fall back down to the ground, small oases crop up.

The next time I update the Atlas it’s likely going to be to upgrade the page to its v2.0 version. Without making any promises for its launch, here’s my intended goals for that version of the Atlas:

Splitting the Celestial Ring and Tick-Tock Town into two separate Atlas pages so they’re not both vying for space.

Each planet is going to be named. The main reason I haven’t talked about some of them is simply that I hoped to introduce them via shipbeasts or something similar, but given the rate of updates around here these days I don’t feel it’s fair anymore to keep this stuff in the dark.

Denizens likewise will be named. Some planets are still having their Denizens sorted out but I have some already set out (like the one for LODAD) so any that I have a lock on right now will be named and detailed in their planet’s entries.

In addition to godtiers/local deities I’d like a small overview of which aspects are stronger on which planet, since I’ve brought up magical ambiance before.

The currently-in-development-hell maps of the Verse and Tick-Tock Town are eventually going to be added onto each page.

#notes from the showrunner #Land of Blaze and Prairie #Land of Rot and Sparks #Land of Flood and Hive #Land of Ghouls and Ooze #Land of Blood and Gold #Land of Dunes and Darkness

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talesfromthecycle · 5 years ago

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Vengeful Chapter 1 “The Land Below The Earth”

As the crimson sun rose over the jagged mountain tops, it washed over the valley in its bathing light like a wave over dry sands. Light that had graced the valley day after day was foreign to the stranger crouched at the gaping mouth of a cavern dug into the mountain next to them. A tattered dark gray cloak wrapped the stranger as they made their glance at the sun that was once only a figment of their dreams. Though there is life in the valley, the stranger is alone as they make the land of the sun their new home. The trials and adventures that had gotten them to this point carried out in their mind like a cascade of memories of emotions. The backdrop of the sun lights the memories into vivid color unforeseen, and the stranger sees it all again.

Far from the rays of the crimson sun and far below the surface of Duramas there lied a connection of tunnels and caverns those of the surface came to call Vy’es Dela’ramar, The Land Below The Earth. This was a home to many who were outcasts to history and the light itself, those who might otherwise be considered nationless. The most prominent to call this land their true home were the Night Elves. Elves long since secluded from their brethren and forced to forge a new future in Vy’Es Dela’Ramar. It had been their home for millenia, even once relations with their surface brethren were repaired. Yet they remained ever since, they remained in their true home.

One of the societies forged from their new home was a city built into an underground ravine of Vy’Es Dela’Ramar known as Eil’Drawwt. Eil’Drawwt was a city of connecting bridges and stone towers carved into the walls of the vast canyon that proved itself a haven for outsiders due to its relative close distance to the surface. Crystals of pure mana lined the ceilings of the cavern and the crossway bridges. They shined with fluorescent cool colors that brightened and dimmed with time as did the sun rise and set on the surface to better accommodate those used to the grace of the sun itself.

The summer of the surface grew strong and yet in the underground, the crystalline sun shone its brightest in the frigid expanse of Eil’Drawwt. There, a young woman walked one of the many grand walkways that connected the walls of the ravine. She was of both night elven and human heritage as was made clear by her lavender skin yet oak brown eyes. Her ice white hair was tied in a ponytail that fell to the back of her simple blue and gray uniform. As she kept a brisk pace on the stone bridge, the half elf took a peek inside the satchel at the mess within. A thick paged book surrounded by packets of parchment tied together in small bundles greeted her eyes as she sighed and continued her pace. She ended up approaching upon a small gathering of merchants with stalls set up on the edges of the wide bridge selling varieties from copper trinkets to dried meats and mushroom treats. “More news?” The trinket salesman with small reading glasses perched upon his nose chuckled at the half elf’s arrival, “I feel like we just got it yesterday.” The woman couldn’t help but laugh with him despite hearing the joke several times over, perhaps it was his ever changing delivery that gave her that chuckle. She reached into the satchel and untied one of the bigger bundles of parchment handing a packet to the night elf merchant. “Good news at least.” The woman answered, “The guild finally caught that outlaw from two weeks ago.” She stepped to each stall and placed a packet on each of their counters.

“Nessa, dear,” An older human woman with a variety of surface candies whispered softly as she placed the packet, “Have you had enough to eat the past few nights?” “Yes yes, I promise,” Nessa responded reassuringly, “My route was extended so I’ve been making enough coin for both my brother and I.” “You let me know if you need anything deary.” The old woman reached over to Nessa’s palm and drops a few small wrapped candies and then closes Nessa’s grip for her, “Save some of those for your brother this time.” She scolded playfully. Nessa giggled as she dropped the candies in her satchel before saying goodbye to the merchants and continued on her route. On her way she crossed paths with several guards, travelers, and workers. Occasionally a wagon pulled by centipede like creatures would take up the middle of the bridge as others squeezed past on the edges peeking back to see what contents the wagon might have. As the bridge stretched on, teams of adventurers grouped up at a specific section, sitting on barrels and occasionally pointing down at maps with the rest of their crew. They gathered around a bulletin board with two night elf guards standing with spears at the ready on each end of the large board. Nessa squeezed through the crowd, nodded to the guards as she approached and began fiddling with her satchel in front of the board. The adventurers took quick note of her presence and paid swift attention. She set the satchel down next to her with a handful of large parchment pieces in her grip. Scanning the board, Nessa began to take down outdated information and replaced them with updated bounties, quests, and the like. The adventurer’s watched attentively as new quests were posted and some scoffed as some were now marked as completed. When her job was done she put the outdated posters in her satchel and headed out to allow the adventurers to take a closer look.

Before leaving for the next part of her route, Nessa turned back at the adventurers. She noticed a large number of the teams wore the emblem of the local guild on their sleeves or chest. The emblem depicted a comet piercing through the surface into the underground before ending with a collision on a shield. She stared at the armors they wore and the weapons at their sides, but paid closest attention to the unarmed. Nessa looked over their bodies for some sort of magical apparatus and eventually found one carrying a wand fastened tightly to their belt. Pulling a notebook from the side of her satchel, Nessa flipped to a page near the end. She then drew a tally mark next to one of several options on a list she prepared and then hurried off for her route. The midday traffic on the bridge picked as Nessa reached the western wall of the ravine. A grand shelf of towers and homes stacked atop each other colored the ravine wall, the flourescent lights of the crystals shone out of the wall like the thousand eyes of a spider. With nary a moment to lose, Nessa reached into her satchel once more for a handful of posters. She patrolled the collection of caverns dug into the wall and worked to put up posters of an outlaw on the stalagmites outside the long chain of shops within the caverns. The crowd of shoppers around Nessa had expanded from when she was on the bridge which gave little space to move and made the job a little more stressful for her. She groaned as she struggled to reach at a spot she intended to put up the poster when suddenly she felt a weight lifted off of her. As she turned to check what happened, a blur exitted the crowd for a mere moment to swipe the poster out of her hands violently and then disappeared once more blending in with the wave of civilians. Her satchel was gone, cut off her shoulder and slipped into a thief’s hand. The crowd parted only slightly to the perpetrator’s direction before losing interest and continuing on their way. “Hey! Thieving bastard!” Nessa stumbled over her words and tried to sound tough through a shrill voice crack as she chased in the direction the crowd parted for. She could barely see a foot in front of her as she pushed and shoved her way through the crowd in hopes to catch up with the thief. She hadn’t yet identified what the thief looked like yet but she saw a mere flash of the white satchel slip through the crowd dipping to the right. Nessa weaves to the right and manages to escape the grip of the crowd but is met gut first with a guard rail protecting her from a dip into the lower levels of the city. Her eyes dart around the scene as she spots a hooded figure below the guard rail gripping onto a series of safety ropes and nets designed to protect citizens from falling into the ravine below. He swung from net to net dropping down several stories to get near the bottom levels of the city. Nessa’s thoughts raced a mile a minute, with a bit of hesitation she went to lunge herself over the edge into one of the closer nets but a shiver washed over her as she even moves to attempt it. With a deep breath, she collected herself and made the leap onto the first net. From there she struggled and eventually flipped off to the next net to chase after the thief. Taking notice of the woman foolishly following him, the thief got onto solid ground and ripped a dagger out from beneath his vest. He brought the blade to one of the ropes connecting the safety net and carves away at it. With a snap he sprints with his prize into a crevice in the ravine wall, a dark alley. Nessa failed to recognize the thief’s plan as she was falling and ended up seeing the snapped safety net at the last moment. She reached towards the ledge but only got a grip of the disconnected rope, dangling from just her grip a few meters away from the ledge. She hesitantly looked below her. She gasped with slight relief as the ravine bottom was not below her, but instead more levels of the city, though a fall from her height would still be damaging for sure. With several exasperated breaths, Nessa closed her eyes and attempted to concentrate, muttering under her breath memories of study and knowledge. With her plan in mind she began to build momentum swinging from the rope. She was too far down to jump to the ledge but she had another idea. At the very moment the broken net connected with its other half, a spark traveled from her palm up the silk rope. A surge of weak mana that ended at the connection of the two rope links sparks as the rope returns to being connected once more. Dangling no more, Nessa climbed up the net and crawled out onto the ledge. She looked down at her palm, a slight smoke rose off a scorched patch of her palm. She waved it off and approached the crevice she witnessed the thief flee into. There she found the thief at the very end of the dead end alley rummaging through her satchel set upon the ground. He sprung to his feet quickly and brandished his dagger at the half elven woman. Nessa saw beneath his hood, he looked to be human with bright snakelike yellow eyes and slightly fanged teeth, the tells of a demiserpus race. He matched the description of the outlaw poster she was putting up. “Give me back my stuff before I call the guards on you.” Nessa choked out through exhausted gasps of breath as she lifted up her shirt slightly to pull a wooden wand out from beneath her clothes. She pointed the wand with a shaky grip at the thief as a violet light sparked out of the wand’s tip. The thief nodded and gripped onto the satchel, “All right all right,” His voice was quiet and almost inaudible, “Just put the wand down we don’t need to get all heated up.” With the satchel in his hand and the dagger lowering in the other he slowly stepped forward to hand over the bag.

Nessa complied and lowered her wand, “Just drop the bag and leave.” She instinctively took a few steps back as he approached, but this only made him pick up his pace. His dagger suddenly lashed out to stab out at Nessa before she could react. A flash of steel in his hand lunged out towards her face as she flinched waiting for the blade to strike her. Her eyes shut closed but opened again when she heard an unfamiliar sound. The thief’s lunge was parried by an invisible force as his dagger flew out of his grip, before he could comprehend the situation, a bright light surged from the mouth of the alley and soared in to strike the thief in the chest and knock him onto his back with a concussive burst. Nessa turned to face the light that shone from behind her. Standing at the end, a night elf woman around the same age as Nessa held one hand forward in an elegant motion with a white staff in her other hand. “I knew I heard some sort of ruckus. Take your belongings and get going civilian.” The night elf spoke with a dignified tone as she brushed her lavender hair out of her face. Labelled on her white priestess gown, the same emblem of the guild was stitched into her shoulder. Just before Nessa could appropriately respond, another larger figure stepped into the alley.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd #elves #writing #chapter 1 #vengeful #tales from the cycle #underground #fantasy #adventure

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tarralin · 6 years ago

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💗💋💗💋💗💋💗💋💝💋💗💋💗💋💗💋💗

What started as a birthday fic for @rainylune , grew into a full piece that I now present to you as my @ikesennw Sweet♡Heart event special.

My theme for the event was ‘true love’ and what better way to portray that than a classic fairy tale retelling? So, without further ado, I give you a story inspired by the legend of The Frog Prince featuring Mitsunari as our sweet prince.

A thousand Thank yous to everyone who has helped me with this beast along the way!! @alloveroliver @xathia-89 @rainylune @tsundere-mitsuhide @notsafefortum-blr @ikemenfics @space-romantic @impracticaldemon @jennacat84 @lulidrafts

I love you all!❤❤❤

((Below the cut because 7,200+ words))

~☆~

The Prince and the Frog

The full moon always reshaped the world to Nari's eyes, casting a glow that seemed to transport his very being to the fabled realm of the Fae. Even the dense forest that spanned the back of the castle transformed under the silver luminesce and beckoned for him to explore.

For as long as he could remember, Nari's father had forbidden anyone from entering the dark expanse of trees and thickets. Several missives had been received from villagers and lords alike offering their clearing services over the years that were all denied. An infestation of wolves always cited as the reason for his caution but, in all the years Nari snuck from his room, not so much as a howl had been heard.

In fact, he heard nothing in the forest other than twigs snapping beneath his boots. No owls hooted from the canopy, no foxes scurried about. There weren't even any chattering raccoons despite these weeks being the prime of their mating time. Only a silence that Death themself would find comforting.

Well… and Nari.

Nari enjoyed discovering the forest's secrets in the silence that was such a welcome change from the daily bustle of court and castle life. He didn't mind assisting with leadership or working towards a better way of life for all his father's subjects, as he would soon take over that chief responsibility, but the close minded opinions of the other courtesans were beyond tiring. And that didn't even include the numerous marriage proposals received on a daily basis. The only reprieve of late were his fencing lessons with the knights while he awaited the full moon so he could continue his mapping quest of the forbidden forest.

Nari slumped against his favorite pine, breathing deeply of the sweetness the early summer night elicited from the trees surrounding him. What does this forest possess that unsettles Father so? All the years I've spent studying and still nothing out of the ordinary…

Ribbit.

Nari snapped to attention so fast, his head slammed into a low hanging branch. A thud reverberated from the tree but he could still make out the distant croaking of frogs over the ringing in his ears. He stumbled a few paces before righting himself and continued in the direction of the calls. The telltale trickle of a creek joined in the chorus of amphibians hidden behind a wall of thorny briar bushes. It was for just such situations that he never entered the woods without a machete after his first night exploring.

The scene that greeted him nearly took his breath away in its ethereal beauty. A bubbling creek seemed to spring from the ground from nowhere and pooled into a moderate fishing pond. Crystal clear water shimmered in the moonlight, revealing sleeping fish nestled along the pebbled bottom. Clusters of green frogs huddled along the water's edge, catching mosquitoes as they flew by.

All except for one.

“Well, I've never seen anything like you before.”

Sitting away from the rest of the group was an exquisitely colored frog of night black skin with silver streaks accenting the ridge of its back. Pulling a kerchief from his pocket, Nari knelt to lift the creature into his covered hand for further inspection.

I could say the same of you.

Nari turned back to the opening he cut in the bushes, expecting to see the woman the voice belonged to, but found no one there.

Down here.

Glancing to his boots now, there were no sign of any legendary pixies or brownies.

The mysterious voice released a sigh. I'm in your hand. You just picked me up.

“My hand…?” Pulling his gaze back, he found himself confronted by eyes suited more for a person than a frog. Warm, chocolate depths that glittered the same as the water watched him with the focus of a scholar.

There you go. Now you found me. The voice floating through his conscious was weak but there, fluttering like silk on the wind and definitely not his own.

“How is this possible?”

You should know. You're the one who found me.

“Only by accident, I assure you.” He turned to the other frogs gathered nearby. “Do the rest of you speak?”

The same croaking as before was his only answer.

I've given up speaking to them. They've never responded to me.

“How long have you been able to communicate like this? Do you have a name?”

For as long as I've been a frog, I've been able to… think? Talk? And I know I had a name-- once-- but I've forgotten it a long ago.

“As long as you've been a frog? Have you been something else?”

Soft laughter washed over him, rough from disuse. I was a person once. I still have… visions?

“Memories?”

Yes, memories. Very few as they are, but there all the same. I remember my father and his funeral… a neighboring king was there with an enchantress. And then I was here.

“Why do you remain? Why haven't you--”

Tried to leave? She scoffed. I have tried… I'm bound to this pond just as I'm bound to this skin. I can go about five hops until I hit an invisible barrier. And the enchantress made sure only magical beings can find this spot on a full moon. She ended on a sigh.

That… would explain the absence of wildlife in the forest. Was it not common knowledge animals could sense magic at work?

So… how did you find me?

He smiled down at the dark amphibian. “My mother’s grandmother was rumored to be Fae. If what you say is true, then I can only assume the rumors were correct.”

She sighed again as she huddled down in his palm. It's… nice. Finally being able to talk. What may I call you?

“You may call me Nari.”

Nari… another tired sigh. I can feel the dawn approaching. You should return home.

“May I visit you again?”

Yes… please.

He left her his kerchief, carefully wrapping it around her as he settled her where he thought the sun would shine most. The morning sun was just breaking through the trees when he stepped over the briar bush barrier. As he turned back, his breath was nearly taken from him for a second time since leaving his room.

The pond was gone.

As he made his way back to his castle home, Nari was filled with a sense of purpose and bypassed the breakfast prep in the kitchens for the library. He only had until the next full moon…

He had research to do.

~*~

A fortnight later, Nari dropped the book to the table with a thunk while rubbing his eyes after removing his glasses. He had spent countless hours scouring the expanse of books and what did he have to show for it? Whispers of legends and fairy tales that sounded ridiculous even to him. Nari grimaced at the shelves before him. It would take far longer than another fortnight to continue researching at this pace. He needed help.

He needed information.

~*~

If the town tavern was known for anything, it was its rampant activities of questionable legality. The few times Nari had crossed its path previously was from behind the safety of an armed escort when Father attempted to put on a show of concern for the people, more than once having witnessed an unruly patron be tossed from the entrance.

Nari pulled his cloak’s collar tighter around him. The last three days leg work of investigating the legitimacy of outlandish wizard tales and spellwork had all led him to the seedy establishment in search of one man. A man said to have a hand in many circles, both local and abroad, with a network capable of tracking down the truth behind any rumor…

“And why, pray tell, would such a goose chase be of interest to me?”

The golden gaze levelled upon Nari sent a bead of sweat rolling down his spine but he remained uncowed. Despite a show of comfortably lounging among richly colored purple pillows and sky blue blankets, the white hooded man embodied predatory dominance as a fox would over a brood of hens. Predators fed off fear and he would show none in the face of this one.

“As I hear it, you enjoy chasing such game.”

“Perhaps,” a slight tilt of his stein in agreement before hovering at his chin. “But ventures on such unstable… foundations tend to fall apart quickly and have an expensive upkeep until they do.”

I expected as much. Pulling a pouch from his inner pocket, Nari tossed the tightly wound coin bag onto the table next to the pile of pillows. The soft clink of metal sliding across metal earned an arched eyebrow of interest and a flutter of silver lashes before landing upon Nari again.

“My my,” the barterer sat straighter now, having ruled the interaction worthy of his full attention. “What motivates our dear prince as to fund an exploration of tall tales?”

Guess even the borrowed clothes of a stable hand wasn't enough to throw off this fox. “My motives are my own. I expect weekly updates and, when I have what I need, you'll receive the second half of payment when the job is done. Is that reasonable, Kitsune?”

“Please,” a chuckle rumbled between them as he finished the contents of his stein, eyes never leaving Nari’s and an intrigued smirk lifting the corner of his lips. “My partners call me Mitsuhide.”

~*~

Nari received the first update two days later and the amount of information in the letter rendered his knees useless. He hadn't been able to gather this much knowledge in the fortnight he had spent holed up in the library! The basics of the spellwork, the power and supplies needed, as well as theories on how to undo such casting were lined out in a neat hand.

Theories only. If the letter were to be believed, a reversal by the original caster would be the best route. For that, they would need to know the identity of said caster. Would the frog know the name of the enchantress if she didn't know her own? Unlikely, but only one way find out with the next full moon just days away. In the meantime, Mitsuhide had included a magical bind breaking method that required a bit of interesting preparation.

The sharp, angry click of riding boots against the marble floors pulled him from his mental checklist.

Uh-oh.

“Mitsunari!” The booming voice of the only man who insisted on using his full name barged into the library just as Nari concealed his letter by closing it into a book. The edge of Father's lavender silk lined riding cloak swept the floor as he came to a halt at the edge of the table, scowling down with no attempt to hide the fury forming in his eyes. “Before I left to visit your brother’s lands, did I not make it clear you were to have chosen a fiancée by now? It is already summer and the autumn social only two months away. The social when an engagement was supposed to be announced!”

Nari sighed as he slumped into a nearby chair. “Apologies, Father. It must have slipped my mind with your role of kingship falling to me in your absence. Also, it is quite a difficult decision not only by the quantity but quality as well. The few I have already met would not make for suitable queens, and how can anyone choose a future based on the biased words of their fathers?”

His jaw ticked. The signal marking his fury. Father never before raised his voice in anger, lest ‘unseemly’ rumors stir and tarnish the golden image he worked so hard to achieve. Nari had no fear of an outburst, but the slim narrowing of Father's eyes as he crouched low and whispered lower was always a reason for concern. “You have two months. I suggest you spend as much time looking over the proposals as you do your books.”

He turned sharply and marched from the library as furiously as he came, the draft of his cloak scattering a few loose pages across the table.

Well, that was to be expected… afraid I can’t put off that princely duty for much longer, can I? Glancing back to the book in his hands, Nari pulled the letter from its hiding place. At least, I might be able to accomplish one meaningful thing before that time comes…

Daylight hours of the next week were meticulously spent placating his father by looking over the accumulated marriage offers, going so far as to craft a comparison chart of the candidates listed qualities and accomplishments in an order of preferred queenship.

“Hirona of Hiroshi… Cecilia of Rothmere… Annette of Wellington? Those are your top choices? Royalty of farming peasants?” The disdain laden words of Father as he read over the first reports Nari had crafted sent a familiar wave of dread through him even as he straightened his shoulders and defended the honor of women never met.

“Princess Hirona has been invested in politics and headed many crucial meetings on behalf of her father for several years. Lady Cecilia is quite skilled in numbers, often working alongside her country's treasury and advocates against governmental corruption. Ms. Annette is beloved among her people, frequently seen with healers to achieve new methods of healthcare and hygiene. Each realm produces varying crops that we do not have the climate for here. I thought you would appreciate the trade opportunities as, I believe, our textile and fur crafting specialties would benefit all three provinces.”

The effort proved worthy as Father didn't interfere with him after that. Choosing, instead, to be happy with the progress and dispatched the chosen trio’s invitations to the autumn festival.

Nari spent his nights gathering the listed materials for the bind break provided by Mitsuhide. One of which, required soaking a coin bag of cinnamon sticks in holy water under the moonlight for three nights before use. The fourth night was the full moon and-- per routine-- he used the vine growth of the castle to his advantage as he descended the concealed rope to the shadowed ground. After picking up his usual machete from the garden shack, Nari was on his way down the carefully construed footpath he had crafted for himself. He made record time through the forest and soon the song of chorus frogs reached his ears through the deafening silence of the forest, guiding him to his destination.

His feet froze in place at the sight of a figure crouched over the edge of the pond, draped in a sparkling white cloak kept tight only by the sky blue sash about the waist. A familiar chuckle danced through the night as the figure stood. “I was wondering how long we would be kept waiting.”

“Mitsuhide? What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“Can't have word going around of my services failing. I'm here to ensure the bind breaks and you get your pay worth. I was just telling the lady here I have some of my best men tracking down leads on who her enchantress may be.”

“I'm still curious as to how you are here.” It didn't escape Nari's notice Mitsuhide avoided one of his questions.

“That's not important right now.” Mitsuhide held his palm out to Nari, enchanted frog in question swaddled in the center.

Is it true, Nari? Her voice was far stronger now than the last time he was here, free of the lethargy that plagued her as she crawled into his hands. You've found a way to break it?

He couldn't help the smile forming at the hope in her voice. “I'm afraid I couldn't risk being seen researching such topics outside my home but I located a man who could. Mitsuhide seems to think this worth a try, I can only trust his word.”

“Such praise… I’m honored to be considered for it but might we get on with breaking the barrier? There are far more profitable ways I'd like to spend my evening.”

Gently setting her to the ground, he pulled the materials from the pack and set about the instructions. Mitsuhide assisted in perfecting placements of the soaked cinnamon and transferring her to the bag. Nari took a deep breath to calm the jumble of nerves that had formed in his stomach after all was set as it should be, forcing a smile for his amphibian friend. “Ready?”

Her uneasy laugh trickled across his conscious. As ready as I can be.

Mitsuhide slouched against a tree beyond the briars, tapping his fingers along his crossed arm in an intentional show of impatience. Each pace Nari took shook his nerves like the earthquakes of the eastern lands. What if it fails? She sounded so faded when we first met, what if this drains her of what miniscule energy she has left?

A hundred different ‘what if’s were still swirling when a hand smacked him in the forehead to stop his pacing. “Planning on walking off a cliff, are you?”

Nari blinked down at the white rapids that rushed the bottom of the ravine. “Oh! I’m sorry, I hadn't noticed. I was focusing on back up plans if this should fail.”

“Well, no need. She is still in your hands and we are much farther than her confinement previously allowed.”

Nari beamed down to his palms. “How do you feel?”

I feel… her contemplative silence had Nari holding his breath until she gushed with a smile in her voice. Wonderful! I feel as if a heavy blanket has been lifted off of me. Thank you! Thank you, both!

“Always a pleasure to rescue a distressed damsel.” Mitsuhide raised a finger to her forehead in a way of greeting. Nari thought he could see a deep swell of relief flood through those golden depths of his, but it was gone in the next instant. “I must be off now. I will send updates as I can but they will not be as frequent as previously agreed.”

“You’re leaving?” Nari was stunned as he stared after the fluttering cloak of his accomplice. “Where to now?”

Mitsuhide glanced back over his shoulder with that usual smirk while checking his hood’s placement. “To catch a goose.”

~*~

Nari thought it would be hard to conceal a large frog throughout the day but, after experimenting with several places in his coat, they found his shoulder to be the best place she could grip. The position also allowed her to easily peer out from under his lapel without being spotted. Convenient for reading.

With the hours they spent in the library, Nari learned the frog was a skilled reader and possessed an incredibly comprehensive mind. He concluded the mental stimulation was beneficial as she slowly began to remember different pieces of her past, events of the nation's history, and even her favorite stories. Each day held a new surprise as they read over reports of the area or complaints from local nobles. She was filled with an unexplainable need to help in any way she thought she could.

Sometimes… it was simply reminding him to eat.

Nari! Her voice blasted across his mind with the force of a gale wind, pulling him completely from his book. Lunch arrived some time ago. The tea will get cold.

“Oh, thank you!”

He could hear the suppressed laughter in her voice. It's ok. I'm kind of envious you can ignore the rest of the world like that. I never could. Every flutter of a bird or shout of a servant would distract me from my studies as a kid.

He smiled openly as she continued with the newly revealed memory as he ate.

“I'm almost done here for the day. Would you like to see about the town?”

Can we? There was no hiding the interest in her eyes.

He nodded. “I haven't toured through town in some time and it may help you discover more of who you are.”

Thank you.

It wasn't long after calling for a guard and mounting his steed that they were trotting through the cobbled paths of the bustling city proper. Merchants hocked various wares to anyone within earshot of their carts and stalls. Farmers haggled with fur crafters on reasonable trades in early preparation for Winter. To the common eye, it would seem like a time of prosperity.

But her eyes were far from common.

There are so few sellers… and fewer customers. There is variety but each peddler seems to have a monopoly on their products. Is there any government over prices?

Nari fluffed his coat and whispered into his shoulder. “There is a merchants guild but many of the members have my father's ear.”

So they have free reign. I'm sure the fee to join is out of reach from the common peddlers, isn't it?

A grunt of confirmation.

She remained silent for several long moments as they continued through the streets while Nari extended greetings and smiles to the people. She spoke again only once he had regained a safe distance from the ears of the guard. May we visit the city’s edge?

“My friend…” he started. How could he persuade against the idea when her question was so strong? There even seemed to be an edge of challenge as she awaited his answer. “It is not… well off.”

I'd still like to see it, Nari. Please?

He resigned to his fate with a sigh. “Alright.”

~*~

She was furious.

Nari knew he had trouble with reading people most of the time but even he could sense it. Waves of anger radiated from the creature perched on his shoulder the moment the city’s outer edges became visible.

She was silent.

He feared he might set light to a powder barrel if he made any wrong move as he gently settled her upon the special pillow he had set aside as a bed for her. Since bringing her to the castle, she had been nothing but questions and stories as her memories slowly uncovered themselves. The silence was unsettling.

Should he say something? Ask something?

“I tried to warn you.” He whispered as he rested his head on his pillow.

Warn me?!

Uh-oh. Maybe that was the light to the powder...

The larger part of the population works to the bone and are left with what? Rundown shacks that let in more light than block it? Meager food scraps that are supposed to last them until… do they even know when their next meal will be? Isn't there anything to be done? You're the Prince, there has to be something you can do!

Nari let out a sigh as he reached his palm out to her. She climbed in his hand without question and nestled on his chest when he plopped her there. “I have researched all the laws and, since I was young, have worked to appeal many. I managed to gain traction several times when Father was away visiting my brother. But once he returned, all the changes I had implemented were overturned. Every time. Worse yet, any individual who had benefited from the assistance extended to them were forced to repay it… with interest.”

And if they couldn't?

“There was no leniency.”

Her silence now may not have been from anger but it was just as unsettling as it had been before, containing the same echo of helplessness he often felt over the years.

“It is late, my friend.”

I know. I just… She didn't have to finish. He knew the pain well. Can we walk?

“Walk? Where?”

I don't know. I just feel I need to be… somewhere.

“Alright, we'll walk.” It only took a moment for him to pull his night robe over his shoulders and adjust her position and then they were in the hallway. “Where to?”

“Towards the garden.”

Down the hall they went until they reached the landing to the staircase case that would take them to the courtyard.

Stop! Go left.

“Left? There is nothing to the left, it’s just a lounge area.”

Oh, something is there.

"To the left it is."

It was a moderate sized alcove, where two cushioned benches in the royal colors welcomed any potential sitters for easy conversations. A window stretched from floor to ceiling to let in as much light as possible. Flowers sat in large marble vases on both sides to complement the extravagant tapestries that lined the walls, adding a touch of elegance to the otherwise cozy area.

Lift the tapestry on the right.

Nari raised his eyebrow to the far away tone she used. Could it be a new memory revealing itself again? Two had never appeared in one day before.

With his own curiosity further piqued, he lifted the fabric from the wall and almost couldn't believe his eyes. An intricately carved oaken door stood like a secret guardian just under his hand.

Look up to the left corner. See the stone that is longer than the others? Pull it.

Excitement got the better of him as the brick scraped against the others and echoed in the hall.

Quietly!

“Sorry!”

Using both hands now, he pulled the stone from its place as slowly as possible. Once removed he could feel its weight was half that of a normal stone and found the back side to be hollowed out. Turning it over in his palm, cool metal fell into his fingers.

The key!

“You know,” he started as he smiled to his friend, turning the bronze key in his fingers several times. “I've suspected for a while now that you were highborn. Such intimate knowledge of the castle now confirms you aren't just noble but something more.”

Something more?

He nodded as he turned the key in the door with a successful click. “You are royalty.”

After attaining an oil lamp to investigate the secret room, the number of journals and half-finished paintings made it immediately evident the room had been a private parlor. The name inscribed upon all the volumes had been the same.

Mai.

For years, Mai had been known as the Runaway Princess after disappearing immediately following her father's funeral pyre. A nationwide search had been raised but to no avail, leading many to believe foul play was at hand. No evidence ever emerged to solidify such claims but still, a rift was torn between the country’s two greatest allies and lead to the break of an alliance that had remained solid for four centuries. And now, they had discovered the stash of journals that may hold the solutions to unanswered questions.

That realization was quickly overshadowed when he heard his friend croak loudly in surprise.

That painting… that's my father!

Nari's head snapped to the depiction in question and he froze at the sight. Two men were featured in the craft. One sat upon a plush black velvet lined chair that was easily recognizable as the throne. The crown upon his head easily marked the man as King while the legendary scar crossing his features identified him as the most recent king before Nari's father… who was seen standing tall over the previous king's right flank.

“Which man?” Had his throat ever been so dry in his life?

The crown… the one with the crown.

Of course. Hadn't he just voiced his theory of her being royalty? It only makes sense that she was His Majesty Kennyo's daughter. Of course she was the missing princess.

And the other is the neighboring king who brought the enchantress.

“Pardon?” He heard wrong. He had to have heard her wrong.

The last memory I had before you found me was of that man ordering something to the woman. Somehow, I knew he was a king even if I didn't know his name. Do you know who he is?

A humorless laugh escaped Nari as he set the lamp on a table, lest his trembling fingers drop it and start a blaze. “I know him well. He would be your uncle then as he is the previous king's brother.”

She was stunned to silence a moment before her thoughts caught up to her. The ‘previous’...? But that would make him--

“My father.”

~*~

The only word from Mitsuhide arrived without signature or preamble on the last day of summer.

I caught the goose.

The missive was delivered to the garden courtyard where Nari had been in the midst of a demonstration of his skills for several visiting dignitaries. With the festival a day away, many had arrived earlier in the week to enjoy the change of weather and a fencing match against foreign knights had been in order according to Father. Three other princes from abroad were also embroiled in the sparring matches to form a mock contest between nobles and royals alike.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't enjoying himself. Analyzing the other fencers allowed him to spot patterns in their movements and easily turn the match to his favor. The letter’s arrival simply gave him the energy needed to push through the final obstacle in the way of relaying the news to his friend.

A round of applause spilled through the small audience once Nari successfully disarmed his last opponent. He bowed with a smile, accepting a kerchief from a nearby noble lady while she released a wistful sigh.

“If I had known of such a contest, I would have dressed more appropriately and thrown my blade into the ring.” Her dark eyes danced across the courtyard where many of the former combatants gathered to discuss different techniques and the different foil craftsmanship of their homelands. Unlike the typical extravagant curls and updos of royalty, her chestnut hair was gathered into a single plait pulled over her shoulder.

“My Lady,” her escort grimaced from her flank in a light attempt of scolding his charge.

“Dame, Edwin,” she corrected as if she had a thousand times before.

The seasoned guard held his tongue a moment before addressing Nari directly. “Prince Mitsunari, I present her Ladyship, Dame Annette of Wellington.”

“ ‘Dame’?” Nari smiled. “I’d heard of your healing capabilities but not of your knighthood. I’m sure we can arrange another contest before the end of your stay if you like?”

Edwin scrubbed a hand over his face as a flash of pink dusted across his charge’s bronzed features as she grinned. “I would like that.”

Nari smiled again as he dabbed his brow while he spotted his Father’s nod of approval. One impression down, two to go. He needed to keep dancing to his father’s tune for only a while longer, just until Mitsuhide returned with the enchantress who could testify to his misdeeds and restore the princess to her true nature.

And after?

He’d figure that out when the time came.

~*~

The next morning, he awoke to find the princess perched on the window sill staring down into the courtyard.

“Morning Princess. Something catch your eye?”

Morning Nari. I was just watching the guests arrive. They all seem rather stylish for a harvest celebration.

“Father's annual party has always focused more on the celebration aspect than anything.”

Ah, of course. If she sounded anymore disgusted he feared she might heave. A squad of mounted horsemen drew her eye once more and was that gasp he heard? Who is that?

“Lord Uesugi?”

Uesugi? Of Echigo? We have an alliance with them.

“Had,” Nari corrected. “Your disappearance so soon after your father's death put quite the strain on those relations. My father and the senior Uesugi never saw eye to eye on many subjects so that was the final nail in the coffin so to speak. This would be the first time anyone of Echigo has returned to this palace, much less four nobles.”

As if you needed any more to worry about.

Despite her words being directed to him, it sounded as if she were speaking to herself more than him. “What has you troubled?”

Just nervous, I guess. I've been like this for so long that I'm afraid I might not know how to function as a person anymore.

He scooped her from her place and pulled her to his shoulder. “Should you need anything, you need only ask. I’m sure it will be a shock to everyone once they see you again but I will be there to assist you during the transition of power.”

Nari… she rubbed her head flat to his neck in thanks for a moment before leaping back to the window sill. Alright, enough of that. We have a party to get ready for.

“Yes, we do.”

~*~

Nari had just placed Mai onto his shoulder under his coat when an urgent rapping sounded at his door. Father never knocked, and service staff would be busy in the ballroom.

Once he opened the door by a sliver, it was pushed open and a flash of white dashed into the room before clicking the door shut.

“Mitsuhide? I wasn't expecting you so soon. Who is this?” Nari glanced to the new woman beyond Mitsuhide’s shoulder. Her mass of golden curls were gathered into a twist at the base of her neck while lavender eyes peered out from under her black cloak hood.

“This, Dear Ones, would be our elusive goose.”

That's not the enchantress. Mai spoke quickly.

“Is it safe to speak here?” The woman stepped forward and glanced back to Mitsuhide. Once receiving a nod of confirmation, she smiled to the duo before her. “I am Moryn. Aura was my sister. You must be Princess Mai and you Mitsunari. I have something for you, from your mother.”

Nari gazed curiously as she rummaged through her satchel. “My mother died after childbirth.”

“Did the king tell you that?” She questioned dryly, pausing in her search. From her bag, she pulled two folded missives bearing the royal seal. They were yellowed with age and appeared as if they would disintegrate under another's touch. One bore his name in an elegant hand while Mai's was inscribed on the other. “Your mother was a talented mage whose only crime was crossing paths with a greedy prince.”

“I don't understand.”

“It's all in the letter but that prince managed to trap Aura with a magic stone and bend her to his will. He forced her to devise the poison that killed the previous king and she was almost forced to kill the princess.”

Why didn't she? Mai questioned when Nari remained shocked silent.

“The king made a mistake. His words didn't form a solid order and she was able to improvise. She knew there was a hidden pond deep in the woods so she transfigured you into one of its residents, but your color didn't match the others. She was forced to enchant the entire area until she could retrieve you at a later time.”

But… that time never came.

Moryn’s smile softened. “No, it didn't. Casting on such a large area drained her significantly. She would have been fine if she were able to rest it off but the king's brother found her leaving the forest. His stone only forces actions from a person, not words, and he killed her when she wouldn't reveal what she'd done. Only said he would never find you.”

“Why?” Nari couldn't keep the anguish from his voice. All this time, he had been raised on lies. Raised by a man who killed his own brother… “Why would he kill his own lover?”

Moryn shook her head quickly. “They were never lovers. He simply needed someone talented enough to do his bidding with something he could hold as leverage over their head. You were Aura's. He captured you and threatened your life.”

Mai rubbed her head against his neck in a small gesture of comfort as he sat on the bed. So the king isn't Nari's father?

“Goodness, no!” She gushed before clearing her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn't know that was the situation. No, he's not. The last I saw of Aura’s sight was the king saying she failed her son and I’ve thought you dead as well all these years.”

Nari rubbed his eyes as he took in all the information. There were still pieces missing but the puzzle had mostly come together now. The rest of the ‘why’s would have to come from the king himself.

Nari glanced to his shoulder where Mai continued to rest her head against him in support. “So where do we go from here? How are we to restore the princess if the caster was killed? Shouldn't the spellwork have been undone already?”

“If Aura were a simple spellcaster then yes, but we are of Fae lineage with true magic in our blood. It doesn't just illude, it alters the subject at its core and even Death cannot supersede that.”

So… I'm to remain as I am? Only able to converse with magical creatures?

Mitsuhide chuckled knowingly from his place against the door. “No… there is still a way around it.”

The comment earned him a fierce glare. “Not helping.”

“Apologies, Little Mouse. Please, do continue.”

Moryn huffed out her irritation before turning back to Mai and Nari. “In this instance, there is only one thing needed…”

Alright… what is it?

Moryn inhaled deeply and covered her squinting eyes as if to hide herself before releasing the answer on a rush. “A kiss of true love.”

The room fell to silence for several long moments. Mitsuhide was the first to speak. “I do believe that was most painful for you to say, Little Mouse.”

“Shut it!”

Mai recovered next. I have been a frog for I don't even know how long--

“Twenty years.” Mitsuhide supplied.

--Where am I supposed to find that?!

Moryn recovered from her own embarrassment enough to suggest a solution. “There are many kinds of love, Princess… and most of them are true. An innocent kiss of a dear friend would suffice, I'm sure.”

“Worth a try.” Nari finally spoke again as he lifted Mai from his shoulder. “What do you say?”

She fidgeted in his palm as nerves got the best of her before she settled. It’s worth a try.

Before either of them could back out, Nari planted a chaste kiss to the top of her head.

~*~

The party was as silent as the forest.

It was Mitsuhide’s plan to reveal the Runaway Princess the same as the other visiting royal and dignitary arrivals were announced… by proclamation to the entire ballroom.

Gasps and cries of surprise had washed through the crowd like the season’s first rainstorm flooded croplands after a dry spell. There were even a few crystal glasses laying shattered on the otherwise shining floor. Now, the only sound to break the loaded silence were the taps and clicks of the Princess’s shoes-- and those of her attendants-- as they descended the grand staircase to the dance floor. Despite the still present shock of the gathered guests, many moved aside to form a clear walkway to the polished throne.

“Mitsunari!” The King’s voice bellowed uncharacteristically as his eyes landed on Nari at Mai’s flank. “What is the meaning of this?”

Moryn stepped in front of Nari. “I think you know well the meaning of this!”

The King rose to his feet in the next instant. “Guards! Arrest these three!”

“On what charges?” A familiar voice rose over the scramble of armed footmen heeding the order of their king. Dame Annette, accompanied by Edwin, marched through the crowd that now parted for her. Her braid was coiled into a bun on the top of her head while the dress from yesterday's brunch was replaced with a specially tailored uniform of her country's military officers. The glittering hilt of the blade at her hip reflected in the candlelight with silent promise.

“This witch was the one who poisoned my brother!” He snarled with a finger raised toward Moryn as she glared back just as vehemently as he shook his finger. “And now she poisons my own son against me by bringing this wretch into the Palace.”

Mai squared her shoulders as his accusations moved to her. “If anyone has been poisoned against you, I assure you, it has been by your own hand.”

“Guards!”

The footmen made to pull their swords from their scabbards but were met with the ready blades of Annette and Edwin on their hands while he purred to the men before him. “Now, now, gentlemen. Let’s not be hasty. I’d hate to send you home looking like Lord Masamune.”

“Always the jester, aren't you Sir Edwin?” The new voice joined with his blade poised in preparation of an attack. “If I recall correctly, I was the who gave you that slight limp you hide so well.”

“Boys!” Annette chastised before turning back to the King. “I thought it was known His Majesty succumbed to a winter sickness. That is what my father taught me.”

“As did mine,” The deep resonating tone of Lord Uesugi carried across the audience as his blade added to the defense of Mai. “How is it you know differently?”

“I am King here! I will ask the questions!”

“Not when you have been called to question on a murder.” Nari’s voice rose now for the first time since entering the ballroom. “As the law that our kingdom was founded on states… ‘even the one who wears the crown must testify when they are called’.”

“I would like to hear the answer Lord Uesugi’s question,” Annette smirked as the guards turned about face and caged the King in a semicircle formation.

Mai spoke again when the King remained silent. “You arranged for my father’s death out of your own greed. Forced a woman to craft an undetectable poison and then tried to have her kill me.”

“Which she failed to do!”

Another round of gasps spread through the crowd as the color slowly drained from the King's face with the realization of his own admission. “No, no! That's not what I mean!”

“It's exactly as you mean. You controlled the mage known as Aura with a piece Fae's Bane but failed to concisely order my death. Can you honestly deny that?”

The ballroom was plunged into unearthly silence once again as it awaited an answer that never came.

Annette scoffed. “Your silence is answer enough. Guards… I think you know who to arrest.”

He managed to keep what little dignity he had left by not kicking or screaming as the footmen escorted him out of the ballroom. Those who had gathered in the Princess’s defense each sheathed their blades as they all nodded to one another.

“Well, that was fun,” Lord Masamune grinned with genuine joy. “I’m going to have quite the challenge trying to organize a party more memorable than this. You even managed to drag Kenshin away from the plums.”

“Please,” Kenshin sneered. “I'm only here because I thought there we were going to battle.”

Annette rolled her eyes. “Ignore them, My Lady. The two dragons are known for their bickering and rivalry. I think everyone is interested in where you have been all this time.”

A trickle of relieved laughter spilled from the Princess as she turned to Nari, extending her hand to him. “That is quite a tale to tell. Nari, will you help me?”

Nari beamed from his place still at her side, taking her hand in his as his answer.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesennw #ikesennw sweetheart #ikesennw event #ikesen mitsunari #fantasy au #ikesen fantasy au #fairy tale retelling #the prince and the frog #my writing #longest single peice yet #but really did not want to turn it into multi-chap fic #mission accomplished

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zekethegm · 6 years ago

Text

Campaign Update 2

Update 1

Continuing from where we left off.

The trio head into the hall and Orpheus peers out the window to the front of the building cautiously. “A dozen more in front and the way they have that vehicle backed up I suspect something lies in wait there too.” He says grimly.

Jaylene returns from the other side of the hall. “Can’t get a clear look at the rear alleyway. We would have a nice choke point to mitigate their number back their but it could also be an easy way to get cornered.” She reports.

“Sister Veida, how familiar are you with this Hab pattern?” Orpheus asks.

“The Colossus pattern is quite common, especially in this system.” She responds. “Every ten floors a catwalk should extend to keep stairwells and auto lifts from becoming too congested.”

Orpheus nods. “We could sneak across there and leave completely unnoticed.”

“Or one of us could take position from above and catch the scum in a crossfire.” Jaylene proposes.

“There is also a subterranean parking deck.” Veida adds.

“Yes, but it is protected by electronic locks and we did not register the vehicle to this building to keep evidence of our staying here to a minimum.” Jaylene says.

Veida nods toward Jaylene. “And I’m certain that served well in delaying your discovery. As part of my duties in recording the history and culture of the peoples of this system I have collected and cataloged a number of technomat data scripts. I am confident that this lock will prove little challenge.”

Orpheus gestures to the stairwell. “Lead on then, Sister. We should take the stairs, though. If they begin to sabotage the building a lift could quickly become a coffin.”

The three descend the bleak stairwell of metal and concrete. The buzzing of inferior light fixtures are a constant as the thumping of heavy boots and the clattering sounds of weapons echo endlessly, announcing their descent.

They reach the bottom without interference and come upon a heavy door with a number bad installed into an otherwise featureless surface. “Most locks are not given a custom sequence in fear of the failure of human memory, or being charged with techno heresy. So the vast majority of these locks,” Veida says as she presses a seemingly random number routine, “are still operating under a preset unlocking rite.” The door swings open obediently and the three hurry through the parking deck.

As they come upon the exit ramp to the streets above Orpheus motions for them to slow. “Creep up the ramp just enough that you can see them, let’s not expose ourselves any sooner than we must.” The others nod and Veida takes the lead position.

Veida moves up the ramp until her head just comes up to street level. A purifying stream of burning promethium erupts from the end of her flamer as five gangers meet a painful, screaming end.

The other five man squad have just begun to mount a counteroffensive when Jaylene’s combat shotgun matches Veida’s flamer for kills. The furious burst of shotgun blasts perforated the whole area and Jaylene doesn’t let go until the bolt holds open to an empty chamber. “Last magazine.” She declares as she reloads.

Orpheus strides to street level. “Surrender and throw down your weapons and I will show lenience. This is your only opportunity.” Movement is heard inside the vehicle though no surrender is spoken. “They are unrepentant, Sister.”

Veida storms up the length of the ramp to stand on street level and engulfs the vehicle in flames, the promethium easily pours through holes in the armored windows and flows up through the cracks around doors. The vehicle becomes a howling crematorium as the gangers inside perish.

“Jaylene, ready the car, Veida, give me a hand.” Orpheus orders as he walks to the rear of the vehicle. The rear doors hang open and a heavy stubber, scorched and covered with an ashen corpse, sits at the ready. “It’s still operational, this could come in handy.” Orpheus says as he takes up a grip opposite Veida. The two pull it off its mounting with ease and stow it in the trunk of the undercover Arbites cruiser.

As soon as they get moving Jaylene contacts her precinct. “This is Investigator Jaylene Magall, Safehouse Omnibus has been compromised, over twenty summary judgments performed during the escape. Requesting a secure vehicle bay open at precinct 99.”

“Preparing for your arrival as we speak. We just received a report of two improvised armored vehicles on your vicinity running fast and hot, dispatching backup.”

“Negative.” Jaylene orders into the vox system. “Reinforce the precinct perimeter, they’ll be most desperate when our escape is within reach.”

“Understood. Emperor protects you, Investigator.”

Just as the exchange ends two bulky vehicles with armor sheets bolted and welded on appear from a side street. Dark plumes of exhaust flare up as the oversized engines spur the vehicles on to impressive speeds. The window plating folds down and a crowd of shotgun barrels expose themselves, bristling from every open hatch they unleash relentless fire.

The blasts rip across the cruiser and crack and chip at the armored glass, nearing a complete shatter quickly. “I thought you said this thing was rated against small arms fire!” Orpheus bellows.

“It is! For standard ammunition! They must be loaded with manstoppers!” Jaylene retorts.

Veida leans out and blasts a stream of flame which the vehicle quickly evades by tapping the brakes to stay just out of the burning stream. “Damn them all! Can’t they even die with dignity?”

The other vehicle begins picking up considerable speed and Orpheus activates the vox projection array, broadcasting his voice loudly outside the vehicle. “Good, a little closer and I can slit your throats myself.” He growls. The vehicle backs off with a screech and reveals its own compliment of shotgun wielding criminals, blasting out the rear windshield and putting a handful of holes into the hull.

“I’ve driven worse.” Jaylene reassures them.

One of the vehicles pushes their acceleration and flies past the cruiser, opening its rear doors to reveal a Heavy stubber. “Evasive maneuvers!” Jaylene hollers. “Orpheus, pass me your pistol!” Veida shouts over the chorus of shotgun blasts, engine sounds and screeching tires.

Interrogator Letra holds his bolt pistol out, Veida goes to take it but Orpheus won’t let go. “This weapon was made by some of the most skilled hands in the galaxy. If you drop this weapon, we are stopping to pick it up. Understood?”

Veida nods and takes the weapon, firing a single shot which zips just over the barrel of the heavy stubber causing the gunner to hurriedly duck and lose his aim as the heavy weapon sprays ammunition haphazardly across the street, missing the cruiser entirely.

“Emperor be praised.” Veida says under her breath as Jaylene’s driving is able to soften the impact of the ceaseless barrage of shotgun blasts.

Orpheus activates the vox system once more. “You are firing upon an agent of the Emperor’s Holy Inquisition!”

Immediately the vehicle in the rear breaks off and disappears down a side street. The one in front ceases firing but maintains it’s position, indistinct shouting erupts from within. Orpheus joins the inaudible discussion, “I have seen more than twenty of your comrades slain in the past hour, what makes any of you think you will fare better?”

The vehicle slams it’s rear doors shut and flees expediently.

Veida passes the bolt pistol back to its owner. “You can do quite a lot with a few words, Interrogator.”

“Thank you, Sister. All things being equal I would rather rely on your flames or Jaylene’s shotgun than my words but when only words will do it helps to have the best of them.” He replies.

Jaylene pulls into an awaiting vehicle bay and a pair of servitors begin attending to repairs immediately as the three enter the precinct fortress. Jaylene quickly leads them into a hallway and opens a room where a handful of subordinate officers work at data terminals and sift over pict logs.

“I am commandeering these quarters until further notice, if you wish to contest my actions, my name is Investigator Jaylene Magall, you can take it up with Captain Navick.” Jaylene orders. The working officers gather their supplies, salute and leave without a word.

Once the room is empty Jaylene locks the door and takes a seat. “What’s our next move?” She asks.

“Well,” Orpheus says, taking a deep breath and rubbing his neck. “we know which gang is perpetrating these actions, the Breakwater Bonded, and their territory is known to the local enforcers which you have access to, correct?”

Jaylene nods.

“So we know who is doing it, where they are and who is running this operation.” He says pulling the paper found on one of the gangers earlier. “But, after reading this, it is clear they are just hired muscle. Yes they are guilt of their crimes but they only did it for the payout, even if we were to wipe them all from history their employer would find some other criminal retinue to handle the deed.”

“What about the interrogation? What did you learn?” Veida asks.

“The next target is an Imperial temple in the 8th district, 11th block of this stratum of the Hive. They will suspect their operation was compromised which will mean they will either abandon the target, or if the employer is insistent on this target, they will try to act before we can make use of the information.” Orpheus says, pacing to the wall where a map of the local hive sector is displayed.

“We need to defend the temple.” Veida declares adamantly. “If we attempt to make a move on their territory and neglect one of our flanks for even a moment they could easily sneak a small team by to carry out the bombing and then the interrogation was for nothing anyway.”

Jaylene nods. “Of course if we fail on that we get disintegrated by a small atomic bomb.”

Orpheus notes Vieda’s look and elaborates. “The crime in question is the placing and detonating of small atomic devices. The deepest reaches of Williams Breach are populated by mutant laborers who mine radioactive minerals for the creation of atomic macrocannon shells. Somehow this gang’s employer has gotten a hold on some so these bombs are utilizing military-grade atomic material. Not only have these events eroded the morale and faith of the people, opening the door to heretical practices in their desperation but the sites have been left irradiated resulting in widespread illness and much difficulty in rebuilding and forgetting the attack in the first place.”

“All the more reason to ensure this attack fails.” Veida says with determination.

“We’ll need a safehouse.” Jaylene notes. “I don’t have access to anything in the area, that’s all Ecclesiarchy jurisdiction.”

“Or their chamber militant.” Orpheus adds, looking to Veida. “How close are your ties with the Adeptus Sororitas?”

“The closest I have.” Veida says as she seeks contact through a secure vox communicator in the room.

The vox speaker returns with a very familiar, “This is Sister Elise of the Burning Rose, identify yourself.”

“Sister Veida of the Nomadic Word.”

“Your vox signature is unfamiliar, is everything alright?” Elise asks.

“I am on Confragus, on assignment with a member of the Inquisition. Do you have any authority in the Imperial Temple of Williams Breach, 8th district, 11th block, mining level epsilon.” Veida asks.

The sound of static silence hangs in the air for some time before there is a response. “Yes, we have a Sister-initiate who is on watch there as part of her training.” Elise says.

“Could we receive sleeping accommodations nearby?”

“Nonsense, for you we will have the initiate take up a bed elsewhere, her quarters are yours to use as you see fit.”

“Thank you.” Veida says. “The Emperor provides, and may he reward you for your assistance.”

“To assist in his work is reward enough, Sister.” Elise replies.

Jaylene nods to Veida. “Well, that’s good news.”

“I have more.” Orpheus declares. “I have some contacts in the Astra Militarum and have managed to acquire the advice of a demolitions expert. Jaylene, if you can send a copy of the data script from the temple’s construction to this logis-address.” He scribbles a series of numbers on a nearby piece of paper. “Then we can anticipate where the bomb is most likely to be placed.”

Jaylene takes the paper, looking over it carefully and securing it in a pocket of her armor. “It’s a very good start but how do we actually stop this thing?” She asks.

“I can disguise myself as a member of the Ecclesiarchy. I know all the rites and rituals and bear a degree of authority there anyway.” Veida offers. “It will allow us to get as close as possible to those who enter.

“Your armor is distinct.” Orpheus reminds her.

Veida shrugs. “I will shed it then, my faith will protect me.”

“I don’t like the idea of you going unarmored, looking for someone smuggling in a bomb.” Jaylene says.

Orpheus nods. “Agreed, I will find you some armor that you can wear beneath your robes. I’ll gather some surveillance equipment as well. We can sleep in rotation. Two will stay on watch while one sleeps, working on an 8 hour sleep pattern.”

“Veida walks the crowds in the day with you for the first half and me for the second then when she goes to sleep you wake up and we work the night hours.” Jaylene states.

“I’ll man the surveillance pict-feeds during my shifts, Jaylene, you will monitor the feed for your portion of the day shift and walk the floor at night.” Orpheus says.

A silent agreement passes between the three. “Then it is decided.” Orpheus says.

Tag so you can find this easily @sincerestaffect

#wrath and glory #40K #warhammer 40k #roleplaying games #my campaign

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misakishishido · 7 years ago

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Project #1 - Phantom Thief vs Police AU (Teaser)

Hey y’all~

Soooooo I made a post that had a brief summary of a project I had drafted for a while but just didn’t have time to actually write out. But today, I’d like to show a little teaser for it. I say it’s a ‘teaser’ but please don’t take this as an actual prologue or any part of the story yet as I’m fairly unsure whether I’m going to go with certain formats or characters for the story.

Especially when *not really a spoiler but* I was thinking of breaking the fourth wall from time to time for this story, so it wouldn’t be such a serious read and well, hopefully you all will have fun with it :)

I won’t lie I got influenced by the Neptunia game franchise which I’ve been watching and playing recently which caused me to give this story a complete tonal shift from how serious I had planned it initially.

So if it seems alright with you all for me to go with such a format, I’ll definitely do so! I’d love to hear your thoughts if you can be so kind to just drop a comment or message me directly so I’ll know.

Also one more thing, if you noticed I wrote ‘Project #1′ in the title. So yes, there are... I’d say 2 more projects, in which I’d love for you all to tell me which of the 3 you’d like to see first when I post the other two teasers up. Although, one of the teasers is actually readily available as of now and it’s the *drum roll*~

The untitled OS for JuriSaku I had posted before which I’ll link riiiight here!

Yes! I’ll make this and the other two (with the other one coming up as soon as I figure out how to create a teaser for it since I’ve done 80% of the first chapter for it in the past) into multi-chaptered fics when time permits as my studies are coming to an end soon :)

So again, if you lovely readers out there can tell me which one you’d love to read first before the other two, I’ll be really thankful!

In the meantime, please enjoy this little teaser~ and I apologise if anything sounds weird as I haven’t been writing fanfics in a while haha!

- 01:48 hours -

A caped figure with a top hat was seen dashing skilfully from rooftop to rooftop. The person grinned excitedly as the thrill of being chased pumped their adrenaline. A helicopter had its spotlights right on its subject and on the ground, a swarm of policemen gave chase to catch the moment the figure decided to jump down.

“This is hella fun~!” The caped figure shouted in glee, eventhough she was huffing and puffing with all the obstacle jumps she had to perform without stopping for a second.

“Will you take it seriously, Sayaka-chan?! Tonight may very well be the night you get caught judging from the numbers they’ve deployed at you!”, exclaimed a voice through Sayaka’s earpiece.

“Geez you’re such a killjoy, weren’t you someone who knew how to have more fun than me in the past?” Sayaka chuckled a bit before finally slowing her tracks, paying close attention to the current state of her surroundings as if she was looking for her end-goal. She then faintly saw a few flashes of light through the window of a building two blocks away from the one she was on and smirked proudly. She found it.

“T-That’s not the time for—” The voice stammered before Sayaka cut her off.

“Also Otabe-san, I thought we agreed using codenames since Day 1? I’m not Sayaka. I’m Antonio, and you know that.”

The voice on the other side of the earpiece sighed, “… Just get the artefact over to Sakura pronto,” a click sound followed, indicating the other side had turned off her transmissions for now.

“Man… Yui has gotta lighten up,” Sayaka said to herself as she was nearing her location, revealing another person in a cape, with a Victorian mask that had a cherry blossom pattern over her eyes.

It seemed she was mouthing “over here!” from where Sayaka was approaching from and she couldn’t help but smile. She was after all, still rather fresh to the gig and was only able to be Sayaka’s partner-in-crime on the field because of Yui’s insistence.

“Everything’s up to you now, kiddo!”

Sayaka jumped across to the rooftop of the building where Sakura was, all while dropping the artefact which landed straight into Sakura’s hands. Fortunately, it had gone unnoticed as everything happened too quickly that even the personnel on the helicopter chasing her around failed to notice any changes in Sayaka’s behaviour.

“It’s done Otabe. Get the decoy ready so I can stop this crazy marathon.”

“Alright, sending you the escape route coordinates now,” an updated waypoint appeared on the map that was on Sayaka’s special monocle before Yui continued, “Success rate 80%. You should be fine but try to annoy the helicopter behind you a bit before closing in on the escape route in case it can differentiate the decoys and you.”

“Decoys huh,” Sayaka smirked, “Fine… by… me!!!”

Sayaka made one huge leap towards an unreachable building two or three blocks away from her before pulling onto a paracord that was attached to her cape, transforming it into a gliding device. At the same time, a few similar looking figures rose from below, on cue, gliding off into multiple directions which caused the helicopter to stop and hover mid-air. It was clear as day that the pilot had become confused, and he proceeded to quickly inform his fellow officers on the ground, panicking about the situation.

“I’m counting on ya, Cherry Blossom-chan!” Sayaka said as she continued to glide off into the distance in accordance to Yui’s escape route.

An officer rushed over to his superior and quickly gave a salute to said person, who had a very upset look on her face as she continued to monitor the situation transferred to her via reports on her iPad. She clenched her teeth, thinking hard on what the police force’s next move should be but to no avail.

“Ma’am, we’ve received intel from above that the target has launched decoys to confuse us… at this stage, I don’t think—”

“Shut up!” The woman rammed her fist at the side window of the police car she was standing right next to, cringing in pain momentarily before her serious-look returned, “We’re not giving up. Not yet! I’m sure we can get that wretched Phantom Thief this attempt…”

“Shouldn’t we be relying on ‘her’ for help…? I mean she got posted here for a reason, Miru—”

The voice from the insides of the car was cut off when her superior began in a loud voice, “NO! I don’t care if she’s a genius… she’s… that freak… she won’t get any credit for this… I want to prove the higher-ups wrong! That we, ‘lowly’ local police force, can do something!”

“… Although we’ve been failing 100% of the time…” The other woman who was in the car sighed deeply as she spoke to herself softly, shaking her head at how stubborn her superior was.

The police woman, known as Miru, looked frustratedly at the officer who was still saluting to her and returned orders, “Continue the pursuit. I don’t care if she has to be chased till the ends of the earth but don’t make any changes to the current plan. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!” He left immediately after that.

Footsteps echoed through a seemingly empty building as the person walked up a flight of stairs with an air of calmness and confidence. The cool figure had both hands in her beige-coloured trench coat, and upon reaching the top of the flight of stairs, her eyes immediately darted the empty space she was in. It was fairly dark, and the only light source seeping into the room was that of the moonlight.

That was when her lips formed into a smirk and she slowly walked towards a pillar in the middle of the room, raising one of the hands that was in her pocket to form a ‘gun’ gesture.

“Caught ya. Phantom Thief… or should I say, sub-Phantom Thief.”

There was no acknowledgement or any movement from where the woman continued to point. She let out a sigh before picking up a nearby empty can that was coincidentally near where she had walked to and threw it at the pillar, startling the person behind it, revealing Sakura—the other Phantom Thief that Sayaka had entrusted to the artefact to.

“C-Crap…!” Sakura cursed under her breath and looked at the figure approaching her. All she could make out with the limited light available in the room was that the person had a fedora on her head, shadowing her eyes, she was pointing at her with a ‘gun’ gesture and she could tell that the person literally gave off an ‘I won’ feel to her.

But this person seemed familiar to her. A bit too familiar for her liking.

Sakura did not move from where she stood as she continued to look on at the person who decided to stop where the light would not reach her as much. “Bang!” She said, unenthusiastically while gesturing that she had ‘shot’ her and retracted her hand back into her pocket.

“Those idiots really don’t know what they’re doing. It’s unfortunate they’d rather tackle you and your friend wherever she is now without my assistance,” she tried to sound upset, at the same time clicking on something in her other pocket which caused Sakura to have a reaction. Sakura’s eyes widened when she stopped hearing Yui’s voice in her ear that was previously freaking out due to Sakura being caught and the girl knew she was doomed for.

She had failed her ‘older sisters’.

“… Honestly catching you now means the story comes to an end and the fun stops. I wouldn’t like that at all…” The person said in a sarcastic tone of voice before approaching in the area where the moonlight was rather prominent, and it revealed her face. Her eyes were cold and devoid of any feelings, but the widening smirk on her lips showed otherwise—it looked like she was having fun in a psychotic manner.

Sakura, on the other end, continued to remain in shock as the figure revealed herself to her. She knows this person. She just didn’t realise it was ‘the’ time for them to face-off, so she stumbled and tripped over her rather long cape, falling on her bum as the person approached her, standing right in front of her like a menacing tower, with no intention of helping her to get up.

“Y-You’re… J-Ju… rina… san…” Sakura shakily said. Her heart was palpitating, and she did not know what to do at that point.

“Hello there… Miyawaki Sakura-chan. It’s nice to meet you like this. Don’t you think?”

The person in question did not respond but jolted a bit while crawling backwards slowly when ‘Jurina’ suddenly knelt down, chuckling at the latter’s movements.

“Are you ‘that’ scared of me Sakura? I thought we were ‘friends’,” Jurina’s emphasis on the two words just kept constant shivers down Sakura’s spine. The person before her that she knew was not like this.

“… You found me… so now wh--” Sakura gulped when she had unknowingly crawled to the corner of the room, literally trapping herself especially when Jurina had got up and walked menacingly towards her and knelt in front of her once again.

“Well…” Jurina put a hand in front of Sakura, “I could take the artefact and leave you be… or I could take both you and the artefact to the police now… or…” Jurina leaned in uncomfortably close to Sakura that the latter couldn’t help but be extremely flustered despite the circumstances, “… I…” her voice went low and husky, which made Sakura’s ears feel extremely hot and ticklish, “… could let you go, with the artefact.”

Sakura’s mind went to a blank state. What did she just hear her say amongst all of her flustered reactions?

“H-Huh?”

Jurina gave her a smile before she pulled away and stood up, turning her back on the poor Phantom Thief. She shrugged, looking over her shoulder at her ‘friend’.

“Your little troupe is the only one that has got me entertained in a long while. Plus, I’m ‘off-duty’. I don’t see why I should capture you now when it’s still so soon in the story.”

Sakura was confused. Despite that, she slowly got up, remaining alert as she did so.

Jurina closed her eyes proudly, “Also… it’s a recurring theme for police-thieves stories such as this to result in the thieves winning almost all the time, no?”

“W-Well… that’s…” Sakura was rather speechless until she realised what was going on as she knew certain individuals did the same thing, “… Ah… correct me if I’m wrong but are you… breaking the fourth wall, Jurina-san?”

“Perhaps so,” Jurina chuckled before clicking on the device in her pocket again which stopped the jamming and Yui’s voice suddenly blasted into Sakura’s ear, to her dismay.

“Regardless, I will let you be for now,” she waved to Sakura behind her before gradually walking away, “This is just a teaser for the story that is to come and some of the readers out there may be interested in our ‘ship’ as they call it, so I would not like to stop the story here,” Jurina said calmly, causing Sakura to be in a blushing wreck in a moment’s notice.

“W-What the heck do you mean ‘our ship’?! That’s a bunch of nonsense…!!!” Sakura exclaimed.

“S-Saku-chan…???” Yui worryingly called out to Sakura at the latter’s outburst.

“You better leave now, sub-Phantom Thief. The police will give you a headache if you don’t.”

Jurina’s figure disappeared when she had retreated downstairs, resulting in a fuming Sakura who began her escape.

“Saku-chan are you okay? I know you’ve been compromised but—”

“I’m fine, Yokoyama-san!” Sakura quickly fiddled with a pocket electronic device that had a similar map to Sayaka’s and studied it a bit before putting it away and readied her grappling hook, “… As if anyone wants to be a pair with a jerk who thinks she’s all~ that~ like her.”

“Uh… Saku-chan…?”

“I’ll show her. I’m going to be the best Phantom Thief out there, surpassing even Sayanee that I wouldn’t have time to ‘be’ with her!” Sakura launched the grappling hook and she proceeded to zip line herself to the next building, all while being fuelled by frustration.

Yui facepalmed over the earpiece, “Saku-chan…”

“Anyways…” Yui cleared her throat, smiling apologetically, “Tune in for the full story when it gets released to see what happens to us from start to finish and whether we achieve our goal by the end of it. Till then readers out there, see you!”

#akb48 #ske48 #nmb48 #hkt48 #fanfic #yamamoto sayaka #yokoyama yui #miyawaki sakura #matsui jurina #shiroma miru #yokoyamamoto #jurisaku

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unews360 · 3 years ago

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3 Best Methods for Creating a Website

We walk you through the process of creating a website, from using a website builder to hiring a web designer. The easiest approach to create a website is to use a website builder (which is really easy and inexpensive), hire a web designer (which is less hands-on but much more expensive), or create a free site (which has limitations and drawbacks). Which website builder do we think is the best? We would vouch for the following based on our expert testing and independent user feedback: A Web Development - Wix is the greatest website builder for novices, and it's also very affordable. - Shopify is the greatest platform for running an online store (though Wix Ecommerce is a close match) - Squarespace has some of the best template designs and is ideal for portfolio websites. - Square Online is the most cost-effective way to set up an online store. Thanks to contemporary website builders, creating your own website has never been easier. We show you how to create your own website, whether you want to do it yourself or hire a web designer. Wix is, without a doubt, the best website builder to use. What evidence do we have? Simply put, we've done the legwork for you and saved you time. For only $14 each month, you can see for yourself. Website builders are simple platforms that give you complete control over your website by allowing you to choose professional templates and then customise everything to your liking. You also won't need any prior coding or technical knowledge. What's the good news? You won't have to pay exorbitant prices. A website builder can help you construct and publish a site for as little as $100 per year. Using a website builder is much less expensive than hiring a designer to create a site for you. While you might pay hundreds of dollars to have a website designed for you, Wix, our top-rated website builder, starts at just $14 per month and offers frequent discounts. Of course, the method you use to make a website is determined by your budget, the amount of time you have available, and the type of site you want to develop. You may also attempt constructing a site for free, but we'll explain why that's not a good idea later in this article. The most important thing is to figure out which method of website creation is best for you. We'll tell you everything you need to know about each method of site development, including how much you can anticipate to pay and the benefits and drawbacks of each option. If you don't think you have what it takes to build your own website, consider this: according to a recent poll, over half (52%) of small businesses constructed their own site. It's a stroll in the park with today's website builders. https://youtu.be/PG7XZeJUJes The Best 3 Ways to Make a Website There are three main methods for creating a website: - Use a website builder – This is the finest do-it-yourself solution because it is quick, straightforward, and inexpensive, and it may give you a professional-looking effect. - Pay a web designerr – If you have more money than time – or want something absolutely unique – this is the way to go. - Create a free website – While this is certainly doable, you will end up with a subpar website. We'll walk you through each of these basic ways to make a website in the guide below, and explain why we think using a website builder is the best option.

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Website builders use simple drag-and-drop editing tools and easy-to-install apps and plugins to make customising your site simple, even for beginners. The majority of website builders use a WYSIWYG (What You See Is What You Get) editor, which makes them quite simple to use. The name gives it away: what you see in the editor is exactly what you'll receive when you publish your website. This method of website development contrasts from more technical website builders, who, for example, depend more heavily on coding. These tasks necessitate a level of technical competence that only a few people possess. A WYSIWYG editor, on the other hand, makes the process of creating a website accessible to everyone by providing clear, easy-to-navigate menus and simple controls. Using a website builder is similar to using Microsoft PowerPoint in many respects. They also handle the most difficult aspects of website ownership, such as domain hosting and HTML coding. You'll be able to go back in and edit anything at any moment after you've completed building your site (which shouldn't take long). This gives website builders a significant advantage over hiring a web designer to build a site: you'll always be in charge, and you won't have to wait for them to make any changes you require. It also means you won't have to pay a monthly retainer charge to the site designer, which can quickly escalate if you require additional features or extensive maintenance. Instead, you'll pay a single, regular, and cheap charge that can be billed monthly, annually, or twice a year.

2) Find a Website Designer

You can hire a design specialist to construct a site for you if you don't want to do it yourself. Pros of using a Web Designer - You can get a completely bespoke site - Saves your time Cons of using a Web Designer - Much more expensive than using a website builder - You might be locked into a long contract - Risk of dependency on the same designer for all future updates Small and medium-sized business owners may find web designers to be an excellent choice. You'll get a one-of-a-kind website and won't have to spend any time constructing it yourself. If you require custom features, hiring a web designer may be beneficial. Instead of starting from scratch with a template, you'll tell the designer exactly how you want your site to look and what features you require. They'll get to work on developing draught versions of your website while you focus on operating your company. However, when working with a web designer, it can be difficult to know exactly how much the site you want would cost. However, we did some study on web designer prices and here's what you can expect for your money: - $250- 650: Brochure style website with 1-5 pages including a landing page and a contact page. This budget suits someone who is not looking to regularly update their site. - $650-1,300: As well as the above, you get a content management system, integrated social media pages, Google My Business and Google Maps integrations, built-in analytics - $1,300-3,250: All the above, plus ecommerce functions - $3,250-13,000: A database driven website with advanced functionality for local or regional audiences – great for sites with password-restricted user areas - $13k+: A database driven site for huge audiences, or completely bespoke functionality. These are, of course, estimates for website designer fees. However, Unews360.com can assist you in locating the best web designer for your needs, allowing you to receive a precise price in seconds. However, before hiring a web designer, you should have a clear idea of exactly what you want from your site. And you'll need to know who your website's users are to figure out exactly what you need from it. Our guide on understanding the fundamentals of a good website and how to make it work will assist you in understanding the fundamentals of a good website and how to make it work.

3) Make a Website for Free

There are several free options for creating a website, including using a website builder platform. The disadvantages, on the other hand, are that you'll have to accept a lot of restrictions.

Pros of making a website for free: - Free website publishing is, of course, absolutely free Cons of making a website for free: - Your site will be hard to find - You won't get a professional URL - You'll have to put up with adverts (that don't make you money) - Limited bandwidth will curb your success - Your site will look unprofessional Yes, you can create a full website without spending any money. Sure, this sounds amazing, but because of all the compromises you'll have to make, you'll end up with a subpar website. In fact, we'd go so far as to suggest that creating a website for free is never a good idea. If you run a business, the limits of free website publication may cause you to lose consumers. That tiny upfront savings could end up costing you in the long term. Your site will be covered in advertisements, and you won't be able to get a bespoke domain name, so you'll have to settle for something generic and unattractive. A domain name like this is an example of what you'll get with a free website:

What about making a Facebook page?

Building a Facebook profile for your company is a wonderful idea if you maintain it up to date and utilize it to swiftly engage with clients.

Using a Facebook page instead of a proper website, on the other hand, will make your company appear amateurish and unprofessional. It also won't let you employ features that are simple to add to a website builder and are highly desired by users. You won't be able to add a food menu to a restaurant, for example. Furthermore, being limited to a Facebook page means you won't be able to develop a brand, and you'll be less likely to show at the top of Google searches for businesses similar to yours. There are neither long-term or short-term benefits to attempting to build a website for free. You'll be short on advanced features, appear unprofessional, and users will have trouble finding your website or Facebook page. There's no excuse not to have your own website when constructing your own or hiring a website designer are both reasonable and quick solutions.

How to Create a Website in 5 Simple Steps

Creating a website is now so simple thanks to website builders that even a total novice can do so in minutes. In fact, remembering the password for your website builder account will be the most difficult task you'll face. Thankfully, the days of professional coding, server setup, and IP addresses are over. Using a website builder these days is more akin to making a professional-looking PowerPoint presentation than hacking into the Pentagon. Every step of the way, modern website builder tools assist you. You'll be able to develop a wonderful website with the help of professionally designed, smart-looking website templates. Plus, if you get stuck, there's a lot of non-jargon help available. If you've been putting off making a website because you think it'll be too difficult or time-consuming, now is your chance to prove yourself wrong. We'll lead you through every stage of the website-building process in this guide. Five Easy Steps to Create Your Own Website: - Step 1: Choose The Best Website Builder - Step 2: Choose a Website Template - Step 3: Editing Your Website - Step 4: Create a Domain - Step 5: Publish Your Website

Step 1: Choose The Best Website Builder

First and foremost, a website cannot be created without the use of a website builder. Website builders are computer applications that make the process of building a website quick and simple. You'll be able to control the content and style of a website if you use one instead of hiring a high-priced web developer to hardcode it. A website builder can be used by anyone: They're geared at people who have never done something like this before. You won't need any design skills or a coding degree; all you'll need is a laptop and access to the internet. There are a lot of website builders out there, and we've thoroughly reviewed the best of them at Unews360.com, grading them on features, ease of use, help and support services, and more. Squarespace is one of the finest, thanks to its extensive template library, and Weebly is a close second, but Wix is our top-scoring website builder.

Wix is amazing since it's really simple to use, offers a tonne of help and support options, and is reasonably priced. It also helps that it has a high user approval rating. If you want to learn more about Wix, check out our in-depth review. Even so, there are a plethora of website builders to select from. We put the key ones through rigorous independent testing to determine which are the best. Here's a brief comparison to help you decide which is right for you. When using a website builder, you'll be able to control the content and design of a website without contracting out to a high-priced web developer to hardcode the website.

Step 2: Choose a website template

We'll use Wix as an example because it's our preferred platform. While the experience isn't the same with every website builder, it's not that dissimilar.

Pick the Type of Site

You'll be asked to decide on the purpose of your website: will it house an online store, will it host a blog, will it be for a restaurant or a business? There's also a "other" option that will direct you to the template editor — more on that later. Following that, you'll be presented with a filtered list based on your pick. Some of the categories can be further filtered - for example, if you select "Restaurants & Food," the templates can be further filtered by the type of business: catering & chef, cafe & baker, bar & club, and so on. You may immediately begin editing your site once you've chosen your template - don't worry, they're all pretty darn nice.

Template-Free Option

If none of these templates appeal to you, you may always choose a blank one – though this will need a little more effort. If you're wondering why you haven't chosen a website name yet, don't worry; we'll get to that later.

Step 3: Editing Your Website

Now that you've chosen your template, we'll move on to the website construction portion of the process. The template will come with pre-installed stock words and pictures that you may chop and edit to suit your needs. Do you want to see how simple it is? To view a website editor in action, click on the image below.

Adding Images

It's just as simple to upload a photograph to Instagram as it is to Facebook or Twitter. If you don't have any, there are usually a plethora of stock photographs to choose from.

Editing Text

Changing the text is simple as well; all you have to do is click on the section of text you want to modify, and you can put directly into the text box. Read the full article

#designing #Web

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