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scary-grace · 2 months

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 13) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Chapter 13

“I can’t believe this.” Tomura’s not happy, and he’s not shy about sharing it. “We’re not hostages. Take the fucking hoods off.”

“Don’t complain. It makes you sound like a child.” The voice of the Hassaikai member walking behind you sounds familiar, but you can’t quite grasp where you’ve heard it before. “Trust is earned. And you haven’t earned it.”

“It’s hard to earn trust without an opportunity to be trustworthy,” you say, as diplomatically as you can manage. You’re not thrilled about the hood over your head, either, mainly because you’re worried that it’ll take your veil with it when they try to take it off. “As for childishness – I’m not sure if you were the one who picked up the phone when Tomura changed the meeting date, but whoever it was threw a pretty impressive fit.”

Whoever’s walking behind Tomura decides to wade into things. “That was a subordinate, not the head of our organization.”

“Were they over twenty?”

Silence falls, other than the sound of your footsteps through what you’re fairly sure is a tunnel of some kind. You’ve been walking for a while, and the silence stretches, then stretches again. “We’re getting off the subject,” the Hassaikai member says, and Tomura snorts. “Careful. The door.”

You shift to one side to avoid the doorframe and bump into Tomura. Your hands brush, and Tomura’s little finger links briefly with yours, squeezing tight before letting go. It reassures you. You don’t know what you’re doing here. You shouldn’t be here – you’re quirkless, you’re not a villain, you’ve done nothing to earn a place in the negotiation between the League of Villains and the Shie Hassaikai. But Tomura wants you here. That would be all that matters, except Overhaul wants you here, too.

The hoods come off once you’re through the door, and you barely manage to grasp the hem of your veil in time to keep it over your face. With the hoods gone, you can see that you’re in a small, windowless room, standing behind a couch. Facing you, seated on another couch, is Overhaul. You were too panicked to really take the measure of him when you met in the warehouse. Now you have a close look, and what you see is – weird.

His eyebrows are thin and arched, almost plucked. The clothes he’s wearing are distinctive. The green combat jacket with purple faux fur around the collar was an intentional choice, which means his fashion sense is bizarre. He’s wearing thin white gloves on both hands, and like you are with any quirked person, you’re wary. You might have some idea what he’s capable of, but you don’t know for sure. All you know is that you’ve got no way to protect yourself from him. If he decides he wants you dead, you’re dead. You have to be careful.

But you’re not alone here. Tomura’s with you – and because Tomura’s himself, he doesn’t have to worry about careful. “Do you give this kind of welcome to all your allies? Or are you just pissed that we didn’t come running the first time you snapped your fingers?”

“This isn’t a social call, it’s a business meeting. I’m always careful when I conduct business.” Overhaul is talking to Tomura, but he’s looking at you. “Saintess, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Have a seat, both of you.” Overhaul stays silent as the two of you situate yourself, only speaking once you’re both settled. “I’m glad to see that you’re prepared to move past the – unpleasantness of our first meeting.”

“Move past it, sure. Forget it, no.” Tomura props his feet up on the coffee table between the couches. “One of your minions died. You destroyed Compress’s arm, and we lost Magne because of you. Those aren’t equal losses. If we’re going to move past it, we need something from you.”

“The Hassaikai will pay the cost of a prosthetic for Compress,” Overhaul says. “Unfortunately, nothing more can be done for Magne. I understand that Tartarus will be his final destination.”

“Hers,” you correct without thinking.

“Unless he talks,” Overhaul continues, like you didn’t speak. “I imagine that if he shares what he knows about your so-called organization, he could get himself moved to medium security instead.”

“She,” Tomura snaps. His fists are clenched on his thighs, his knuckles white. “She won’t talk, and even if she did, it would be because of you.”

“She attacked first.” Overhaul’s mocking Tomura, mocking you – mocking Magne, who’s not here to defend herself. “If you had better control over your gang of lunatics, then –”

“We’re getting off the subject,” you say, and Tomura and Overhaul both look at you. “What’s done is done. We’re here to discuss the future of your organization and Tomura’s, aren’t we? What did you have in mind?”

Overhaul tilts his head, studying you. It’s quiet for a moment – quiet, until Tomura snaps. “What are you looking at her for? Stop looking at her. I didn’t bring her for you to stare at.”

“Why do you think I asked you to bring her?” Overhaul doesn’t wait for Tomura to answer, and he doesn’t answer his own question, either. “Saintess was correct at our first meeting to look for an alignment of our goals. Your diagnosis of the problem as heroes, however, is incomplete. The root of the problem is the existence of quirks themselves.”

“Quirks,” Tomura repeats after a second. “That’s a new one.”

“It sounds radical to you as a person with a quirk. This is why I asked you to bring Saintess with you,” Overhaul says. “As a quirkless individual, I’m sure she can explain exactly what quirks have done to warp society from its natural order.”

Your stomach lurches. “What makes you think I’m quirkless?”

“If you were any use, Shigaraki would have used you already.” Overhaul shrugs. “If you had a quirk that could have influenced the outcome of the League’s previous engagements, you would have featured prominently in them, and if you had any value, you would already have been captured. Shigaraki has a nasty habit of giving his most valuable pieces away.”

You knew you didn’t like Overhaul, and it’s not like you haven’t heard anyone say things like that about you before, but hearing them said in front of Tomura is something else. It’s a good thing you’re behind a veil. Your face is heating up in shame. “But it’s your presence at Shigaraki’s right hand that convinced me we could work together,” Overhaul says. “A leader who can see value beyond quirks is a leader with whom I can find common ground. So let’s discuss my plans, and where you might fit into them.”

“Let’s start with this.” Tomura extracts the quirk-erasing bullet – the copy of the quirk-erasing bullet that Twice made – from his pocket and holds it up. “After Compress was shot with this, he couldn’t use his quirk for a while. What is this thing, and where did you get it?”

Tomura knows both answers, courtesy of you and Kazuo, which gives him the chance to test Overhaul’s honesty. “We manufacture those in-house,” Overhaul says. “Right now we lack the facilities to mass-produce them, so we’re in short supply. I’ll take that back –”

“Nope.” Tomura grasps the bullet with all five fingers and Decays it. Twice’s creations Decay like anything else, if Tomura does it fast enough. “If you throw away your toys, you don’t get them back. How are you producing them?”

Kazuo texted you some extra information after he ran his query, sharing that there’s human DNA inside each bullet. Overhaul’s silent for a moment, and Tomura pushes the point. “Earlier you said it was a manufacturing issue, but this thing was – what? A bullet casing and a needle? I’m guessing your real problem is not having enough of what’s inside it.”

“And?”

“And that seems like a flaw,” Tomura says. “It’s nice to have a plan. Not so nice if you can’t execute it.”

“Currently our production of the deleter rounds is restricted to one facility. Our production of Trigger, however, is widespread,” Overhaul says. “My plan requires both components. Once it’s executed, control of quirks will pass from the hands of individuals into the hands of those who control the supply of both compounds.”

Tomura nods. “I get the picture.”

It sounds like he doesn’t. He sounds like he used to in school, when he was writing his letters upside down or trying to put a puzzle piece somewhere it didn’t fit. Overhaul doesn’t buy it. “Why don’t you have Saintess explain what a world where quirks can be permanently erased would look like?”

He’s getting off on this. He must be. That’s the only reason you can think of why he’d force you to rub Tomura’s face in just how useless you are. “It wouldn’t be a return to the pre-quirk status quo,” you start, “because without mass distribution of the deleter substance, quirks themselves would still exist. But the category of quirkless would cease to be a static one.”

“And why would that be a good thing?”

You wish he wouldn’t prompt you. You were getting to it. “Quirklessness is stigmatized heavily. The downfall in privilege from quirked to quirkless would be colossal, for nobody more so than for heroes. The constant threat of quirklessness would change how heroes approach their work. It would make them more cautious, more self-protective.”

“Less heroic,” Tomura says. “I get it.”

“The threat of ending up like her will handicap them, and they’ll never be able to avoid the risk,” Overhaul says. “That’s the kind of reset I’m talking about. Now, in order to accomplish my goals, I’ll need some members of your organization to join mine.”

“Why?” Tomura asks suspiciously. “What do you want with them?”

“My organization is short on infiltrators. We’re tilted towards combat or interrogative types,” Overhaul says. “Twice, Toga, and Kurogiri. That’s who I need. You can keep the rest.”

“We don’t have freedom of movement right now. I’m not handing over Kurogiri,” Tomura says shortly. “Twice and Toga you can have, on a temporary basis.”

“I’ll have them until I’m done with them.”

“If you take them temporarily, what do I get in exchange?”

“I imagine you’re short on funds,” Overhaul says. “We’ll provide a place for you to stay as well as money for food and support items – and the prosthetic for Compress, as discussed. Hmm, and –”

He looks at you. “That injury to your hand hasn’t healed yet. I’ll fix it.”

“No.” Tomura was sitting with his feet on the table until a second ago, but he rockets to standing at once. “Touch her and I’ll kill you.”

“You don’t trust me? We’re supposed to be allies.”

“After what happened the last time you touched one of my friends? Damn right I don’t trust you.” Tomura has one arm thrown out, blocking you even though Overhaul hasn’t made a move. “You aren’t touching her. Back off.”

“I’m just trying to help.” Overhaul spreads his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Call it a peace offering.”

You don’t want Overhaul touching you. You don’t want Overhaul coming anywhere near you. But Tomura’s outsize reaction looks bad. It looks like he doesn’t trust Overhaul, which he doesn’t, and it looks like he’s about to fly off the handle at any second, which he isn’t – and it makes you look important, which you aren’t. There’s only one solution you can see. You get to your feet. “It’s a peace offering,” you say, adopting Overhaul’s term. “I’m not against help when it’s offered.”

You step around Tomura’s outstretched arm, closing the distance between yourself and Overhaul. When you unwrap your bandaged hand, he regards it with clear distaste – but at the same time, he’s peeling off one of his gloves. “These are shallow. They should be healed already, given that you had the same bandage five days ago.”

“It’s on my hand. It’s hard to keep a scab on something I use all the time.” You hold out your hand when Overhaul beckons, wondering if you’re about to die. He could bring you back if he kills you, but he probably wouldn’t if Tomura lost control badly enough. And you can’t count on Tomura’s self-control in a situation like this, when he’s already pissed, already on edge. “Are you sure you want to do this? I won’t be mad if you changed your mind.”

“How forgiving. As expected of a Saintess.” Overhaul’s voice is sardonic. You really wish the League had picked a name for you that was a little less of a joke. “Here.”

His fingers brush the back of your hand, and your skin crawls – but that’s it. When you look down at your hand, you can see that the marks left by Tomura’s nails have smoothed over into a faint scar. A scar that vanishes completely a moment later. Overhaul yanks his glove back over his hand. “Why don’t you go show your boss that his suspicions were unfounded?”

You step back around the coffee table until you’re next to Tomura, and you hold up your hand for him to inspect. You can tell by what little of his expression is visible around the hand that he’s seething. He looks past you, to Overhaul. “Are we done here?”

“Not quite. Why don’t you stay for a game?” Overhaul gestures, and one of his masked minions sets a board and game pieces down on the coffee table. “Do you play shogi?”

“No,” Tomura says, in the same tone as he’d say “fuck you”. “You might have time for board games, but we have important things to do.”

“I wasn’t asking you.” Overhaul is looking at you – again. “Have a seat, Shigaraki. Saintess and I will show you how it’s done.”

You do know how to play, but you don’t play very well – a lifetime of letting your younger siblings win so they won’t hammer you with their quirks has left you uniquely unprepared to play someone who knows what they’re doing. But in some ways, this is exactly the kind of situation you always wound up in at home. Somebody more powerful than you is using the threat of their quirk to push you around. The only difference is that Overhaul is about fifty times as powerful as your siblings. And that when you were playing with them, you never had to worry about keeping your supervillain boyfriend calm at the same time.

Overhaul is lecturing Tomura about how shogi works. You focus on your opening moves. You really don’t want to get your ass kicked in front of your best friend, particularly not after he’s just spent the last half an hour listening to Overhaul remind him how useless you are. At the same time, though, you think you should probably let Overhaul win. You need to leave him thinking he’s got the upper hand over Tomura. It’s a delicate balance, and with your self-esteem basically in tatters, you’re not sure how good you’ll be at keeping it.

Even if Tomura doesn’t know how to play, he’s still on your team, as evidenced by the fac that he interrupts Overhaul every time Overhaul’s about to move a piece. He starts by needling Overhaul about exactly what’s inside the bullets, then moves on to asking about the quirk makeup of Overhaul’s inner circle, arguing that since Overhaul’s helping himself to members of the League, Tomura should have information about Overhaul’s underlings in case he wants to borrow one. Tomura’s interruptions give Overhaul time to rethink his moves, and because you’re playing what you’ve come to think of as the please-don’t-hurt-me strategy rather than trying to win outright, he doesn’t seem to know how to respond. You manage to promote one of your pieces and capture two of his before he finally quits responding to Tomura’s hassling.

Overhaul’s using the game as a personality test. He’s said as much, which makes the fact that he chose to play against you instead of Tomura especially weird. Does he like you or something? You’re pretty sure that’s not it – he’s never seen your face, and even if he could, you’re not anything special. Trying to figure out why Tomura keeps you around would make more sense, but you feel like he’d have to be socially unaware to the max to fail to guess that you and Tomura are involved. So what is it? For the first time in conjunction with dealing with the League, you wish one of your friends was here – Mitsuko, whose quirk lets her read people’s intentions towards one another. She’d be able to tell you what’s going on in Overhaul’s head. She’d also be able to tell you what’s going on in Tomura’s.

Overhaul never quite catches onto your strategy, such as it is, which means you win your first game of shogi ever against a yakuza boss who clearly thinks pretty highly of his own skills. You’re hoping he’ll let you leave now, but before he can put the board away, Tomura nudges you aside and takes your place across the board from Overhaul. “I want to play, too.”

Tomura versus Overhaul is a mess of a game, with pieces flying every which way at high speed. Tomura pressures Overhaul by playing fast, barely considering his moves before he makes them, and while Overhaul grasps Tomura’s strategy eventually, it takes just a little too long to give him the decisive victory he was probably hoping for. Tomura doesn’t seem particularly upset at losing. “Thanks for the lesson,” he says to Overhaul, getting to his feet and stretching widely. One of Overhaul’s minions narrowly avoids getting smacked in the face by his hand and scurries out of range in a hurry. “Are we going to have to do this again?”

“Not unless our strategy changes drastically.”

“Great.” Tomura turns to you. “Let’s go.”

They don’t blindfold you this time. You try to keep track of the various twists and turns, just to have something to do, but you can’t focus. Your veil may be in place, but with every step you take away from Overhaul, your mask slips a little further.

You grew up being picked on for being quirkless. Mercilessly picked on at home, less so at school, because you didn’t do anything so stupid as wanting to be a hero. You would have been targeted if you’d made waves, so you didn’t, staying under the radar and out of the way, even once you had friends like Kazuo and Hirono and Ryuhei who were willing and able to stand up for you. And maybe you forgot a bit, because it doesn’t matter at your job and the League doesn’t care. But what Overhaul said isn’t some aberration – it’s how the world really sees you. Useless. Worthless. If you were of any value as Tomura’s game piece, you’d already have been taken off the board.

“Hey,” Tomura says, and you look up just in time to realize that you’re stepping through the door of Overhaul’s stronghold. It’s dark out, and it’s cold, and Kurogiri’s waiting for you. But instead of stepping through the warp gate, Tomura addresses Kurogiri. “Take us to the place. Wait fifteen minutes and come back to get us.”

“Yes, Shigaraki Tomura.”

A different warp gate opens. Tomura takes your hand, three fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist, and pulls you through it. You don’t have a clue where you’re headed, and you’re still confused when you emerge from the other side of the warp gate and get your bearings. It’s still dark, and it’s also cold – a lot colder than it was outside of Overhaul’s stronghold. Tenko draws his coat tighter around himself. “Fuck, it’s freezing.”

You can make out shapes in the darkness, but nothing that tells you what you’re actually looking at. “Where are we?”

“I used to come here sometimes. When I was a kid.” Tenko looks up at the sky. It was clear at Overhaul’s, but here it’s cloudy, a heavy bank blotting out the stars. “Sensei didn’t like when I went places. Kurogiri convinced him somehow. Probably told him I’d scratch all the skin off my face if I couldn’t go outside sometimes. I don’t know.”

Tenko sets off over the uneven ground, his hand still around your wrist. At one point he crouches, then comes back up with a camping lantern, which he switches on and holds up, revealing that you’re in the ruins of a big building. No, not a building. “Is this a plane?”

“It crashed a few years before All Might debuted,” Tenko says. “Officially an accident, but most of the internet thinks it was sabotaged. The pilots kept this thing in the air for thirty-eight minutes after the hydraulics failed.”

“What about –” you struggle to phrase it in a way that won’t get you in trouble. “What about heroes? If it was in the air for thirty-eight minutes, then somebody –”

“You think anybody would square up to a crashing jumbo jet? They let it fall.” Tenko scoffs. “Didn’t come looking to help until it was too late. Five hundred people on this flight, and four made it. That’s it.”

You’re in a graveyard. Your skin crawls. “And they just left it here?”

“I guess. And I guess if Sensei thought he had to let me outside, it might as well be somewhere I wouldn’t forget what I was supposed to be.”

“That’s messed up,” you say before you can stop yourself. Tenko lets go of your wrist, but only so he can take the hand down off his face and tuck it into his pocket. “It is, Tenko. It’s messed up that he –”

“Back there. With Overhaul.” Tenko cuts you off, and your stomach lurches. “Is that what they’re all like?”

You were hoping he wouldn’t bring that up. Praying, maybe. “No,” you say. Your voice isn’t wavering. It’s just the wind. “He wasn’t that bad. It’s fine.”

“If that doesn’t count as bad, what does?”

Things your siblings said, things your classmates said once you got old enough for it to matter – things patients said, back when you were dumb enough to think that letting them know you were quirkless would make the other quirkless ones feel better. “Nothing. It’s not that bad. He was picking on your judgment more than he was picking on me.”

“He was going after you. I had to sit there and watch you tie yourself in a knot trying not to piss him off –” Tenko breaks off in a snarl. “He backed us so far into a corner that you had to let him touch you to get out! You want to talk about fucked up? That’s fucked up! Don’t –”

“It’s fine –”

“Don’t tell me it’s fine!” Tenko’s voice is loud enough to echo, loud enough to startle you. “I know you. Even when you’re hiding behind that thing. You think I don’t know when somebody hurts you?”

“I’m not hurt,” you say. Your voice isn’t wavering. You’re just laughing at how absurd of a thing that is to say. “You think somebody like him can hurt me?”

“Yes.” Tenko catches the hem of your veil and flips it back, baring your face.

It takes all your self-control not to cover your face with both hands. You’re crying. It’s stupid. You’re twenty years old and you’re crying like somebody’s pulled your hair on the playground. You’ve been crying on and off since you turned your back on Overhaul, trusting the veil and years of practice keeping quiet to hide you, only you’re with the one person who’s never fallen for that. Tenko stares at you in the light of the camping lantern, and you stare back, your eyes blurring as you fight to keep your mouth from turning down at the corners. You wish he’d look away. It makes it so much harder that he can see you.

“Don’t look,” you say, hating how your voice shakes, and Tenko grabs you one-handed and pulls you in against his chest.

There’s a clang as he sets the camping lantern down, and then his other arm comes up around you, hands clenched into fists on your shoulder blade and your hip. He’s holding onto you tightly, tight enough that you’d have a hard time escaping if you wanted to. But you don’t want to. You’ll take what you can get, even knowing you don’t belong, even knowing that you’re always going to be –

“You aren’t useless.” Tenko’s voice is quiet, gentle. You remember it from when he was a kid. You didn’t know it was still there. “You can do all kinds of things. I need those things. The rest of the League needs those things, too. And they like you. Or else they wouldn’t have given you a name.”

Your stupid, shitty name. You want to laugh, but it doesn’t sound like laughter when it comes out. “And even if you couldn’t do any of the medic stuff,” Tenko says, “even if you couldn’t do anything at all to help, I’d still want you with me.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. You only sent Kurogiri to get me the first time because I’m a nurse –”

“I told him to get you before. A lot of times.” Tenko takes a deep breath, lets it go. “I should send that fucking hero a thank-you card. Kurogiri only listened that time because I was injured.”

He wanted to see you. That can’t be right. Can it? You grasp onto the least ridiculous part of what Tenko just said. “A thank-you card?”

“That’s faster to say than “a pipe bomb with a bow on it”.”

That might be the worst thing Tenko’s ever said in front of you. It’s also pretty funny at a time when you need something to laugh at. You try to smother your laughter in Tenko’s shoulder, and he hugs you closer. “I want you with me. You’re supposed to be with me. No matter what. Do you understand?”

“I don’t know,” you say. You think you might, though. Maybe. “I –”

“Come on.” Tenko sits down in one of the empty seats, pulls you into his lap, holding on when you try to squirm away. “Don’t worry. I only sit in the ones the survivors were in.”

That strikes you as unexpectedly sweet. It’s the kind of thing Tenko would have done even as a kid. At the same time – “You know we’re not done with the messed-up-ness of your Sensei sending you to play in a crashed plane, right?”

“It’s not that weird,” Tenko says. You raise your eyebrows. “Kids play in that park they built at Kamino, right?”

You hadn’t thought of it like that. Both places are places where a lot of people died. Both places have been swept under the rug, Kamino by putting up a shiny park over the ruins within two weeks of the disaster, this place by leaving it to rot out of sight and memory. Both places are the site of massive heroic failures. It’s not as different as you want it to be. “That’s messed up, too.”

Tenko snorts, rolls his eyes, but his arms are wrapping tighter around you. He presses his face into your shoulder, his voice muffled and indistinct. “I don’t need you to understand everything. I just need you here. Do you get it?”

“I get it,” you say. “I need to be here, too.”

Tenko’s nose is cold where it presses against your throat, but his chapped lips and his breath are warm. You’re shivering, and so is he. “If I’d known it was this cold, I’d have made Kurogiri bring us somewhere else.”

“Why did you have him bring us somewhere instead of back to my place?”

“I wanted to talk to you. Without them hearing.” Even in the faint light of the camping lantern, you see his face flush. “They hear enough already.”

You knew Dabi was going to say something. It sounds like he said more than one something. “He just needs to get laid.”

Tenko looks shocked for a moment. Then he bursts out laughing, the sound echoing through the ruins of the plane. You like his laughter, but it sounds wrong here. Kissing him feels wrong to do here, too, but it’s the only way you can think of to keep him quiet, and it’s easy to fall into, easy to forget. Easy to forget where you are, but what happened to put you here isn’t so easy to leave behind.

Tenko’s hands have been curled into fists the entire time. Now they loosen slightly, splaying across your shoulder, grasping your hip. His index fingers are lifted. “He fixed your hand,” he says after a while. “I know why he did it.”

“Don’t think about him,” you say. You know you don’t want to – but at the same time, you weren’t paying much attention past your own discomfort. Tenko might have seen something you didn’t. “Why?”

“Because he knows I couldn’t.” Tenko’s grip tightens. “He wants you.”

That’s not right. “I don’t think he wants me. I don’t know why anyone –”

You trail off. There are some things that are too pathetic to say out loud, even for you. Some things you shouldn’t say even in front of your best friend, your boyfriend. Not after he’s tried pretty hard to reassure you about your place in the League, your place with him. Tenko looks expectantly at you, waiting for you to finish your sentence. You shake your head. Tenko smiles halfway, crookedly, and says the last thing you’d expect him to say. “Of course he wants you,” he says. “Who wouldn’t?”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x you #shimura tenko x reader #tenko shimura x reader #shimura tenko x you #tenko shimura x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #please hold #man door hand hook car door

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itsnothingofinterest · 4 months

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So if it isn’t clear, I’m not a fan of chapter 423 and how it ended this final fight with AFO or Deku's supposed save of Tomura. I know I haven't talked that much about it but it's true.

And being the arrogant little internet-er that I am, I thought I might go over how I think this fight should’ve gone down. A little self-indulgent thing about how I would've done it, to make myself feel better, which you guys can read too if for some reason you want to. Granted, the objectively correct way to end this arc would’ve of course been to not do the fight or bring back AFO, end it at 418 as I described before; but this outline is for if one were to really insist on a final battle with a returned AFO.

Starting disclaimer; length: as mentioned in the above linked post, this is going to be quite longer than what we saw in canon. Some may say this is unfair to claim Hori should have done when he’s so clearly burnt out, but that’s just what the fight needs to be properly epic or properly conclude it’s dangling plot threads. Again, this is why ending it at 418 was the correct move. If we really are including this extra climax though, then it needs enough pages for it; which is why we’re going further than the entire manga might, up to chapter 430 plus an epilogue. (Wanted that to be including Epilogue but one chapter outline went long so I split it in two. Just the way things go.)

Pre-423 changes:

Surprisingly little. A part of me wants to change the ‘it was AFO all along’ reveal to be less dog-doodoo but I can’t imagine how. The reveal is bad; ruining many of MHA’s themes, several of its characters, and helping cement Deku as an All Might clone by ending his arc as a hero who beats the big bad AFO…but it’s also necessary for the extra climax to happen. AFO’s ability to take over Tomura is almost literally directly proportional to how bad the reveal is, so we’re kind of stuck with it.

However I would like to change Deku’s dialogue with Aizawa in 420 to not mention his plans of killing Tomura along with AFO up to now. His character just becomes unsalvageablely unlikable with the reveal that he was just looking for a way to murder the crying child in a way he found most tasteful this whole time. So we’re cutting that and Deku’s still aiming for the save like a good hero should. Just have him go into more detail on what happened in Tomura's mind; it'll be useful for Kurogiri to overhear for later.

Besides that, the early chapters of the final AFO fight were mostly fixable with later additions or otherwise inoffensive, so we’re moving on to:

423: On the Offensive

Once again, we start with Deku just landing a huge hit on AFO. Immediate change; the fight is not over with this: AFO manifests a huge mouth with sharp teeth on his chest right where Deku hit to chomp down and pin him before charging up an energy explosion point blank that’ll rip his arm off at minimum.

Deku escapes using a St. Louise Smash to scrape off the bottom row of teeth, letting his arm out and chasing that energy attack to mostly just propel him back into the ground.

Some hero comments how it’s like they’re back to square one while another denies that and points out AFO’s two new major injuries. Shoto takes the opportunity to try going for a major attack too; but AFO, furious that the heroes think he’s on the back foot, uses a quirk to launch the remaining sharp teeth at Shoto as missiles. Endeavor then swoops in and takes the hit for Shoto, surprising him with the sacrifice play but demoralizing the other heroes for their No. 1 to take a hit like that.

Now needing to get back on the offensive, AFO pulls out the giant double rivot mouth move to try and chomp down on Deku while he’s reeling; but they get intercepted by Mt. Lady and Ryukyu. At this time, Aizawa notices Kurogiri has disappeared from beside him.

As Deku is helped up by Aoyama, we see Kurogiri reappear on a bit of elevated dirt behind them; and stepping out to comment on how much he’s missed is a dishevelled looking Spinner.

424: The League of Villains

We instead start with a flashback to Touya, Fuyumi, and Rei being taken away from the battle by those stretcher robots. While they’re a distance away from others, sparks appear from the droids carrying Touya as they halt in place; causing Fuyumi to panic and ask her and her mom’s droids to also stop so she can see what happened. As Rei and Fuyumi struggle to sit up, they see that Toga has thrown knives into both of Touya’s robots and is now cutting him out.

As Fuyumi panics and tells her to get away, a warp gate opens and lets out Spinner, who tells Dabi to get up because the inevitable has happened and AFO has started fighting Tomura; Kurogiri filled him in on the whole thing. Dabi responds, revealing he’s still awake, and attempts to get up with Toga’s help.

Fuyumi begins really panicking, telling them not to take her brother when he’s so injured and she just got him back. But Dabi responds, in an apologetic tone as one could expect of Dabi, that he’s got something important to do.

Rei finally takes the chance to pipe up, asking if these are the friends Touya’s been staying with. Touya introduces Spinner, Toga, and Kurogiri, and says that they are; and then introduces his mom and sister to the League.

Back at Mt. Fuji, Spinne, Toga, and Dabi arrive out of Kurogiri and take in the situation. Kurogiri, now awake for real but with some Shirakumo in his tone, comments that it seems AFO is back in control of Tomura, but that like he saw last time, AFO’s control is probably still precarious. They just need to wake up Tomura again before they think of a more permanent solution.

Aoyama panics seeing the League here, but Deku interrupts asking if they’re here to fight AFO and save Tomura. Toga answers by saying he can just sit back and watch them do his job before telling Kurogiri that he’ll need to play defence; neither the heroes or AFO have noticed them in the crowd yet, but they will not appreciate them being here once they do. As he does, she and Spinner start yelling at Tomura; asking why he left them behind to wallow in his self-pity while they’re still waiting on him to destroy this unfair world? Where’s their horizon?

(maybe call back to this^ somehow?)

This grabs the heroes attention, some wondering if they need to fight them too. But then Dabi joins in, saying that Shigaraki was the one person to truly surpass All Might in power, so to see him a pawn of AM’s favourite punching bag is just sad; what’s with this embarrassing state, leader? Reminded at this sight of his own words to All Might in Kamino, Endeavor tells the other heroes to let the villains speak, while thinking to himself that he can finally see what relationship Tomura has with these villains like his son, and that he's glad he learned this about Touya.

AFO gets annoyed at the League’s insults and moves to attack, but finds his body shaking. In the back of his mind, Tomura stops screaming and appears behind AFO from the shadows, responding to the League’s call.

425: Secret Boss Battle

A fight begins at the centre of the mind between Tomura and AFO, the arena resembling the destroyed cityscape from when he first got the AFO quirk, but shrouded in darkness. Unable to really use their quirks in this space, they basically both resort to hand-to-hand combat and psychically throwing debris at eachother.

As they fight, AFO asks how Shigaraki awakened; his will should have been crushed with his identity as Tenko Shimura torn to shreds. Tomura affirms that he finds no will in the friends or dreams of Tenko Shimura, AFO has managed to treed on those things thoroughly; so instead he'll hold onto what is his own as Shigaraki Tomura. AFO balks at that; he moulded that identity even more thoroughly, implanted every idea in his head and guided his every decision; but Tomura reminds him that's not true, he left Tomura in the care of others many times. We then get both a flashback to Kurogiri comforting Tomura when AFO first died fightign AM, and a montage of flashback panels to his time with the League. Tomura exclaims that this is more than enough will to take on a shitty secret boss like AFO.

At this point, Shinomori appears and punches AFO hard in the face. He is proceeded shortly after by Ragdoll & various other costumed folk who follow up Shinomori with their own attacks. AFO asks if Tomura has caused a quirk rebellion like what happened to the 'other him' and Tomura answers: yes & no. The quirks are active in fighting, but they're not so much rebelling as just helping him subdue a rogue quirk, like what happened against Star & Stripe (he made sure to ask them though; need to know your party for the raid boss after all, and he'd been meaning to take stoke anyway). Or did AFO forget the dynamic of person & quirk between them?

AFO responds by growing into a giant, elongated monster to fight back; furious that these pawns, husks, and nobodies think they have any right not only attacking the demon lord, but looking down on him. AFO knocks a dozen hero & villain vestiges back, but Tomura throws a whole mental building at him for his trouble. AFO emerges out the top trying to attack him, but gets intercepted by the vestiges of Kudo and Bruce; both of them look shattered and like they're missing half their pieces, but the rest are keeping shape to punch AFO as much as they can.

AFO's fury briefly flares seeing them, but he quickly realizes what their being here means, as he hated them too much to ever take their pathetic quirks. Tomura confirms by saying AFO has his own secret boss, pointing out a small light in the distance like a star that AFO immediately identifies as the last spark of Yoichi.

426: Two Fronts

The inner fight continues: AFO begins racing past everyone to try and claim that distant light, but this just allows vestiges both stolen and OFA to slam him into huge debris as he tries. AFO grows even larger to Machia-level size and swats them away, landing a good hit on Tomura, Kudo, & Bruce as he tells them to stop infringing on his story. Just he he goes for another blow though, he takes a hit from seemingly nothing.

Cut back to outside and it's clear that he just got hit by Momo & Denki's canon, now with Jirou helping too. Dazed and in disbelief, AFO is then also hit by Kamui Woods throwing many huge boulders at him. Rikido and Kirishima go for a big attack too, but AFO knocks them away as he regains himself.

Realizing that he's on a war of two fronts and losing, he implants himself with those large roots he seems to have, embedding them in the earth and spreading them out to disrupt and separate the heroes. He then uses more quirks to form a large shell around himself, and uses a more defensive All-Factor Release to launch a myriad of attacks from the shell's surface. Deku goes in to attack AFO from an opening on the shell, but he launches more attacks out of it at Deku & the League. With the roots and shell protecting AFO from most of the heroes, he left an opening on purpose so he can see the League and focus on destroying them, which will then let him subdue Tomura. Deku realizes this plan too, and changes course to deflect the attacks on the League.

More roots emerge, but other members of the class catch on; Shoto freezing some while Shoji grabs others, allowing the League to keep yelling for Tomura to fight. At this time, with assistance from Sero, Iida, Mineta, & Mina; Ruyukyu and Mt. Lady lady finally rip out those mouth stalks, leaving two great black indents in the shell. Enraged, AFO causes the shell to grow large with great teeth around it's opening and enlarge in size greatly, now resembling the imagery of ultimate evil from All Might's old description of AFO as it launches more attacks at Deku and the League.

Deku tells the League to keep it up while he protects them, and we see side-by-side panels of both him and Tomura, bolstered by the League's words calling for his help, continuing their respective assaults on AFO.

427: Trust and Worth

We briefly see the other heroes attempts to get through the now-giant shell in between AFO's still-ongoing onslaught of attacks; Nejire and Amajiki's best attacks doing nothing, and Momo's laser barely putting in a scratch. Mirio says he got in, but his punches still can't phase the guy inside. Weird thing is, he didn't even notice a hero got in; so focused on Deku & the League. The attacks from the shell's surface seem completely random and haphazard too; he's ignoring them. Shoto points out that he basically can thanks to his defences, so does this mean they have to wait for someone who can do something? But Mirio rephrases it to that they need to wait for when they can do something.

Cut back to Deku and he's in a similar mental state. He's almost literally running on OFA's fumes and he's stuck on the defence protecting the League because he can't get into the shell through all the attacks, especially now that it's grown much larger and AFO is hiding deeper inside. It's anxiety inducing, he knows Bakugou would hate it. A part of him wants to try and think of a way to blast past the attacks, but he's not sure he could beat AFO in one hit so it might be too risky (if not for him, then for those behind him). Better to do some entrusting himself and leave this to Tomura until he leaves an opening or needs one himself, which Deku will know because he can see the fight in his mind through their connection.

But back at the mental battle; Shigaraki's confidence only enrages AFO, who grabs him in his giant hand and start squeezing. He taunts Tomura, asks if he really thinks someone who AFO built from the ground up can deny him? 'No, his pathetic friends will have their cries left unanswered forevermore, as punishment for entrusting their hopes to a pawn.'

Just then, another new player swoops in, busting right through the palm of AFO's hand to pull Tomura out. It's Hana Shimura! Who promptly tells AFO to shut up about her brother. The rest of the Shimuras also appear, with Kotaro denying the scope AFO's influence, apologizing to Tenko, and saying his abusive behaviour was his fault alone. Tomura pauses at seeing them, and says while he's in no mood to forgive his father, he promises to get them all out alive so he can grovel for forgiveness properly later.

Nana also appears and asks how the Shimuras are here, which Nao answers saying AFO pilfered their quirks from their remains after their tragedy. Nana is horrified, but AFO can only say that he's beginning to regret letting his whims draw him to any worthless trash he found along his path. Shigaraki remarks back that he's finding plenty of worth in this so called 'trash'.

428: A New Strategy

As more vestiges go back on the offensive; the Shimura family take a moment for strategy, wondering how they can beat this giant monster. Nana wonders why AFO can even grow like this, but Tomura figures he must've done it by letting long-suppressed emotions run wild. He's fraying himself for a chance to reach Yoichi, but stronger emotions like from Tomura or his sister can tear right through him. It also means if they beat him, he'll either be gone for good, or unveil his own core like what happened with Tenko. Concluding this is enough strategy, Tomura leaps into the fray and deals a massive wound to AFO.

AFO is beginning to realize his situation in this two-front battle is not improving, but being so close to Yoichi, he reconsiders his priorities and his strategy to shut up the League. Luckily the reappearance of Nana reminds him of just the way to do it. Outside, Deku, Aoyama, and a few other students continue to protect the League as they call for Tomura and mock AFO, when something changes. The onslaught of random attacks stops, and instead the shell begins to glow, and then a massive force begins emanating from the shell causing gale force winds to blast everyone away. AFO has combined the energy explosion he used to kill Nana with Air Cannon & Shokewave and is using them continuously to create these winds. Using his explosion quirk like this might burn up all his stamina, maybe even kill him and Tomura, but he decides it's worth it to see Yoichi.

The winds drown out the League, internally causing Shigaraki to think they might've just died, which in turn lets AFO pin him under his hand and start crushing him once more.

Deku, being blasted into a wall of dirt, realizes they can't keep up a passive strategy anymore, these winds will tear & burn everyone up. This is when a Warp Gate opens in front of his face, blocking the winds and letting him talk though it with the League, who are protected by a much larger Warp Gate. Spinner says they need a new strategy, but Deku gets distracted observing how Kurogiri's Warp Gates seem to be very effective against these winds by just warping the wind somewhere else. Before Dabi can properly express annoyance, Deku says he's got a plan; but he'll need the League's full cooperation, so are the willing to work with him? Dabi & Toga look to Spinner, who tells Deku...fat chance. He wants their help, he's the one who has to work with them. Deku agrees, so Spinner welcomes him to the League of Villains and asks for his plan.

429: All For One; One For All; All Or Nothing; One Last Smash

Deku and the League begin their operation. Kurogiri opens various Warp Gates around the area that a) give heroes places to take cover from the gusts of wind, and b) let him create his own jets of wind. He points all of them at Deku's back, launching the boy at the shell's opening. The force of each jet matches the force of AFO's wind, meaning multiple will overcome it. Granted, applying that much force to someone from both ends this way would crush most people, but Deku's got a body that can withstand OFA so this is nothing.

As he's launched at the opening, AFO notices his approach and creates giant sharp teeth to impale him; but Deku, being carried by the wind, is free to use another St. Louise Smash to destroy them and make his way in. AFO then tries a variety of other attacks inside the chamber of the shell, but a Warp Gate opens and a blast of ice freezes all of them, and we see Dabi commenting how there's nothing like a life or death situation to see how strong you really are (his mom's quirk packs quite the punch).

AFO then closes the shell to stop the League's interference, air jets or otherwise, and prepares another All-Factor laser pointed right at Deku. But just then, we see Shoto outside preparing a ramp, which Bakugou takes off from (that's right we see their team-up this time), using explosions to overpower the wind, break through the shell where team Momo scratched it, and blast away the charged up laser before it could fire. Now with line of sight inside back, another Gate opens with one of Toga's syringes shot through. Deku grabs it's cord, and uses it to launch himself back at AFO, finally landing the hit to knock off his gag.

Back inside the mental battlefield; AFO is so close to Yoichi and is dragging himself through the vestiges' attacks. Deku suddenly arrives across their mental link, and slams into the giant AFO. Truly desperate, AFO seems to almost puke up something from the hit that gets launched at Yoichi; it's trashbag baby AFO! Who's suddenly feeling a lot more honest, yelling for Yoichi about how much he needs him, how he only cares about him, just let him see his brother's face one last time.

Shigaraki hears this and realizes what kind of person his sensei was all along, and decides what to do with a pity-ing look on his face and a nod from his parents. AFO's path is interrupted one last time by Tenko Shimura, who grabs him in a hug and tells him he understands his pain, but it's over, he needs to let go of this. The star-like light he'd been chasing turns into Yoichi's face, causing AFO to being to cry and relax into the hug, and the two boys fade into another tiny light that rests in Tomura's hand as he shows Deku & the vestiges. It's over.

430: What Makes Heroes and Villains

Deku asks what what Tomura will do with that last shred of AFO, and Tomura says he doesn't know. Part of him still wants to crush it, both out of anger & just to be safe, but that seems distasteful after what just happened. Just then, one vestige steps forth and asks for it, who Tomura identifies as Spearlike Bones; the Shigaraki twins' mother. She doesn't introduce herself as such, but says she knew AFO before he went evil, so give it to her and she'll keep it safe and out of trouble this time. Both Deku and Tomura agree, and then sit down to talk.

The scene shifts to a beach at night, they're alone, and they shift to their four and five-year-old selves. Tenko and Izuku talk for a bit like that, about...a lot of stuff. Mostly about heroes, about Deku, and what Tenko thinks of Deku. If Tenko feels saved (a bit yeah, but also a bit not), how Deku's a good hero, how he's a mediocre hero. How Tenko thinks all heroes suck and are failures, especially All Might, which riles 4-year old Izuku up good...but also how, as the first hero that Tenko doesn't think is a failure who sucks, Deku is the greatest hero ever.

Izuku asks what Tenko will do now, and he says he'll do what he said before; be a hero for the villains, as only a villain can. That said, Tomura doesn't really want to fight Deku anymore if he can avoid it; so he's prepared a peace offering, and a message. The peace offering appear to Izuku as a meteor shower in the night sky, accompanied with a shot outside the mental world to show Shigaraki standing over an unconscious Deku with Tomura's hand pressed agianst him. The message gets blacked out a la Dabi. Izuku, suddenly a teenager is shocked and turns to ask what he means, but finds instead Shinomori asking what what means? Deku has been given the quirks from OFA back, although they are all in pieces aside from Danger Sense, hence them appearing to him as a meteor shower.

We cut to various scenes with villains; Skeptic in a police carrier, Spinner's advisors and a couple other rioters being held in custody, Compress in prison, Redestro in another prison, and even Gigantomachia, once more being tied down even as he holds his hand to the wound AFO gave him. They all see above them a tiny blotch of blackness like Kurogiri's mist.

Back at Mt. Fuji, Tomura finally emerges from the shell of ultimate evil carrying Deku. Lemillion is first on the scene and tells Tomura to hand him over; and is quite shocked when Tomura does just that without issue. Says the two of them made friends and sorted it out in there so don't worry. Toga also tells Mirio to relay a message to Deku that she'll be keeping an eye on both him and Uraraka from here, so keep up their progress together. Other heroes arrive and surround them slowly, not sure what move to make. Iida is the one who finally tells them to come quietly and let this end.

Tomura agrees to let this all end, and Spinner & Toga both ask what they're doing now? Going out in a peaceful way, or a villainous way? Tomura says both; that they'll be performing what may be their final act of villainy, before asking if Kurogiri has a big enough place picked out. Kurogiri confirms he does, and opens a Warp Gate for the League.

At this time, those other villains we saw earlier start getting Gloop Warped away from custody. As the League step through Kurogiri, a number of heroes suddenly move to stop them. Deku barely regains a bit of consciousness and tells them not to attack, causing a few of his classmates to pause. No one is fast enough to stop the League anyway, and Kurogiri disappears behind them. The League are gone.

The chapter ends with police, prison managers, and heroes all reporting in. Besides Dr. Garaki and Overhaul who got left behind, every villain bigger than a small time crook they had in any form of custody throughout the entire country has disappeared.

431: Class 1A Rising

The obligatory Epilogue chapter. As I expect of canon, this would probably be extra long and cover a lot of different plot threads. It'll also be very different based on how Hori wants to take things; but I'll go the simple route.

First things first is catching up with all the hero kids in the hospital. Friendship moments, decompression, comments on character arcs, that sort of stuff. We also learn Tomura's final message to Deku, which he relays to everyone else, student and pro: The heroes have attacked the League three times now. If they attack a fourth time, the villains will return to destroy Japan. But if they don't, the villains will never return.

We then get narration of the immediate aftermath of this announcement; heroes throughout the country search high and low for any signs of Shigaraki & the disappeared villains for months. In a similar case to when they hunted for Stain, this results in heroes finding a lot of injustices they'd normally overlook to catch bigger villains; lost children, domestic abuse, prejudice, that sort of thing. Still, for those entire months, no villains more dangerous than some corner store robbers are found.

Speaking of the heroes, an emergency ranking is conducted; naming Kamui Woods as the new number one, with the rest of the Lurkers as No. 2 & 3. The previous top 3 have all retied (maybe Endeavor dies from that tooth attack he took for Shoto, idk.) Additionally, Mirio, Nejire, & Tamaki have taken the no. 8, 9, and 10 slots, and vow to catch up and rise even higher. Still, there's not a lot of interest by anyone involved; seems everyone has their eyes on the next generation.

There's a few more scenes of loose ends getting tied up like Overhaul waking up Pops or Gentle & Nagant getting status as heroes before we finally return to UA The kids' 2nd year finally begins for real. it's jarring to be sure, but time must go on and so too must education. Besides, a lot of them have started thinking after that war that they need to consider what kinds of heroes they want to be. Deku's falling behind with his shattered OFA not yet showing signs of healing, if that's even possible, but he's confident he'll catch up once again. Perhaps this is where we'd see out final moments with the core cast, checking in with everyone here as they all get ready for their next lesson/mission as heroes. If Hori wanted a more overtly 'to be continued' ending (though I imagine he would not), perhaps we might see where the villains ended up in some sense, building up a future conflict. Or perhaps we might skip forward years into the future, see the kid as pros and end on that kind of uncompromising 'Happily ever after'. Depends on how much open-endedness is preferred.

Either way, there's my conclusion. I won't say it's perfect or anything; I'll even admit I may have gotten the League more involved than would ever be realistic (or maybe it's more like I may not have involved the Deku's class enough). But I like to think I got some cool plot beats in, some cool reveals, I'm more proud of the call back to All Might's ultimate evil imagery than it may deserve; but most importantly, the villains end this war alive and saved. Tomura got to be the hero for villains; and I'd say Deku, between getting his save off and not being the focal point of the win, came out looking a lot less like an All Might clone or the next pillar, and just looking a lot like a better hero than in canon in general. That's what I feel anyway.

Regardless, writing this whole 'what-if' out did in fact make me feel better about 423. So my self-indulgent ramblings were worth that much at least.

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slut4thebroken · 1 year

Text

The Assignment

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Red Hood x reader

Summary | Red Hood takes a rare job. The assignment in question? Punish your father through you.

Warnings | HARD KINKS sexual content, 18+, non con, dub con, gun play, knife play (barely), kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, threats of violence, degradation, objectification, face fucking, choking, fear play

Words | 6k

Notes | please please please read the warnings. While this fic isn’t technically rape because of reader’s mindset, the word is still used multiple times.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Use of r word. Please don’t read if this will be triggering- this is the last warning.

Eyes fluttering open, you tried to remember where you were and how you got here. You remember going to a club with your friends, then a few hours later waiting outside for them as they used the bathroom before going back to your friend’s apartment. But you don’t remember them actually coming out of the club or any of the events after.

The room was dim, only lit up by a light behind you. It looked like some kind of abandoned warehouse. You felt the burn on your wrists as you tried to move them under the rope binding you to the chair.

“I’ll be honest,” The distorted voice from behind you made your head snap up as you took in a sharp breath, “this isn’t the kind of work I normally do. But I just couldn’t resist.”

“W-who are you?” You stammered, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

“The better question is, who are you?” Two hands were placed on your shoulders, making you jump. You hadn’t even heard him walk toward you. “Your father has made quite a name for himself.” The distorted chuckle made your blood run cold as you stiffened.

“I- I don’t know anything, I swear. He doesn’t tell me anything.”

“That’s not why you’re here.” His hands started slowly moving up and down your arms. “You see, some people aren’t very… happy with his choices. Normally I’d prefer confronting the problem directly, but this was just too tempting. And I figured, better me than some other creep who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“So- what, you’re going to torture me?” You couldn’t hide the tremble in your voice. He just chuckled and rounded the chair, standing in front of you.

“Something like that.”

Your breath hitched as you finally got a good look at him. He was massive and covered in an assortment of weapons. The red helmet gleamed under the dim light and you watched as he tilted his head slightly, like he was examining you. You suddenly felt very self conscious in just your skimpy dress and strappy heels.

“Do you know who I am?” You nodded breathlessly in response. You had seen the blurry pictures of him on the news but they did no justice to his actual appearance. “Then you know what I’m capable of.” Once again, you nodded silently. You’d heard the stories of people left nearly dead and people left actually dead.

“Good. Now that we’re properly acquainted, we can get started.” You hadn’t noticed before but your body is trembling, your stomach pooling with dread and fear, but also anger. Anger toward your father for letting this happen, that he chose to bring a child into this life despite the risks. Anger that you’re sitting here right now instead of him.

“They said punish him… Now that’s pretty open to interpretation if you ask me.” He dropped down so his face was level with yours and grabbed your thighs, right above your knees, then he parted them slowly. Your cheeks grew warm as you felt the bottom of your dress moving further up your thighs the more he parted them. When you attempted to close your legs, his grip turned bruising and you let out a small whimper.

“You really don’t want to make this worse for yourself.” He warned. Your legs opened in defeat and he loosened his grip. When his hands started moving up your thighs, you could see the red marks left behind from his fingertips.

“What are you going to do to me?” The fear in your voice was obvious.

“Relax, princess. You’ll live.”

“So you are going to hurt me?” You asked quietly, staring into the whites of his helmet with wide eyes.

“That’s entirely up to you.” His hands reached the top of your legs and he brought them to your inner thighs, then snaked them back down.

“I- I have money. I can pay you whatever you want.”

“You mean you have daddy’s money?” He sneered and your face flushed in embarrassment as you looked away from him.

“How ‘bout this,” He took a gun from his leg and held it up, “You pick a number between one and ten. If you guess right, I’ll let you go. But if you guess wrong…” He trailed off into a chuckle and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Well, to put it simply, you won’t be leaving here.”

“I- I don’t…” You floundered for a response as you eyed the gun.

“Go on, princess. Pick a number.”

“How do I know you won’t lie and shoot me anyway?” Despite the venom in your voice, it still trembled in fear. He let out a low chuckle and moved the gun to your leg, following the same path as his hand.

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.” He all but shrugged, making you scoff.

“Why should I trust a man who kidnapped and threatened to kill me?” You snapped and he let out a low chuckle again.

“I like the mouthy ones.”

The barrel met the apex of your thighs and you jumped at the contact. He didn’t hold it there long though. Instead, he slowly trailed it up your torso and neck until it was pointed at your chin.

“Go on. Give me a number.” His voice was quieter now as he leaned into your space.

“I- I don’t want to.” You whispered, trying to move your head away from the gun. He brought his other hand up to hold you still by your hair and pushed the barrel harder against your chin.

“No?” He slightly tilted his head, emphasizing the question.

“No.” You managed to say, even though your throat was closing up in fear. He waited a beat before finally releasing you.

“I have a better idea.” He retrieved a knife from his pants and cut the rope on your wrists. “Stand up.” Rubbing your sore wrists, you tentatively rose to your feet.

“If you can get to the door, you can leave. I’ll even give you an advantage.” He held the gun out to you and you stared at him with wide eyes. You eyed him skeptically, trying to figure out why he was doing this. “It’s not a trick.” He chuckled. You tentatively reached for the gun and examined it once it was in your grasp.

“Safety’s off. All you have to do is pull the trigger. You do know where the trigger is, right?” You looked up at him with a scowl.

“Yes.” You said bitterly. Pointing it at him, you noticed how obvious the shaking in your hands has become. You eyed the door across the room and started circling him. He moved along with you until your back was to the door. You started moving toward it, never removing the gun or your gaze from the man in front of you, but he matched your steps.

The first time you fired the gun, it flew right past him and he didn’t even flinch. You adjusted your grip and took a deep breath, trying to concentrate. This time when you fired it, he was in front of you before you could even blink. He didn’t make a move for the gun, all he did was spin you around and push your back, making you stumble forward.

“Are you even trying?”

You growled and whipped around to face him. The second you had it pointed at him, you pulled the trigger twice. He moved a little to the side and the first one flew past him but the second one grazed his helmet, making it crack. Only a tiny part of his eye was visible now, but even most of that was covered by a second mask. All thoughts of making it to the door were replaced by curiosity.

“I’m impressed.” The voice was no longer distorted and holy fuck that is not what you were expecting. You were expecting some old man, or someone at least ten years older than you- someone gross. Someone you’d never let touch you with a ten foot pole. This changes things... Watching him take off the helmet, you stood frozen as it dropped to the floor. This changes everything. Not that you condone Stockholm syndrome… but maybe you understand it a little now.

Before you even realized what was happening, he had you up against the wall, both hands pinned by your head and the gun discarded on the floor. His eyes roamed your face as he tilted his head again.

“I- you… what?” You said breathlessly, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Cat got your tongue?” He smirked, making your cheeks burn. You swallowed thickly as you got a good look at his face. You stared at his eyes for a second, admiring the color, before moving your gaze to his lips and wow-

“What happened to all that fight from earlier?” He slid both of your arms up and he could grab your wrists in one hand. “All the bargaining, the pleading.” He used his other hand to hold your face by your cheeks and leaned in until you felt his breath fanning your lips. He waited for a response and when he didn’t get one, he continued.

“Not so easy to pretend like you’re still being held here against your will when it’s with someone who looks like me, is it?” He moved a leg between your thighs and lowered his voice, “I’d bet there isn’t anything I'll do to you that you won’t beg me for first.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stared at him with furrowed brows. Even though you wanted to call him cocky and delusional… He’s right. And he knows he is.

“Although I’m not sure I’ll really be completing the assignment if you actually enjoy it. Maybe I will have to hurt you after all.” The hand moved from your face to your neck and immediately squeezed. “But I think you’d like that too.” He sneered, making you look away from him with a blush.

“No…” You whined, not meeting his gaze.

“No? Shall we test that?” You looked back at him in confusion, but his hand was already leaving your neck and striking your cheek, making your head snap to the side as you gasped. You didn’t even have a chance to get your bearings before he was grabbing your neck again and slamming your head into the wall. Releasing a pathetic whimper, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to control your breathing.

“I don’t know… it seems like you like it.” He teased, lifting his leg until it pressed against your core. You let out a shaky breath as you willed your body to not chase the much needed friction.

“Fuck you.” You whispered.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to that.” He smirked, then quickly turned you around and roughly shoved your front into the wall. You let out a soft grunt from the impact and then his whole body was pressed to yours. When you turned so your cheek was resting on the wall, the gun on the floor caught your attention and you realized that without his helmet, you might actually have a chance now.

Doing your best to ignore his hands grabbing your hips and sliding up to your waist, you tried to come up with a way to distract him that might actually work. After a beat, you did the only thing you could think of that might give you a chance.

You reached behind yourself and placed your hand over the bulge in his pants, then squeezed lightly. His hips bucked forward as his grip on your waist tightened. You palmed him through his pants, ignoring how absolutely fucking huge he feels, and waited until he placed his hands on the wall, caging you in. You took an experimental step back and grinned when he followed.

Once you were far enough away from the wall and his hands were by his sides, you lunged for the weapon. You picked it up and were about to stand when his boot met your back, roughly shoving you to the floor. You scrambled to turn over, then pointed it at him from your sitting position. Your hope disappeared instantly when you were met with a second gun aimed at your face.

“I have to say, I admire your confidence.” He chuckled, stalking toward you, making you shuffle away from him. “Give me the gun before you hurt yourself.” He sighed, holding his other hand out. You scowled at the patronizing tone and kept moving backwards.

“I- I will shoot you.” You stammered, cringing at the way your voice wavered.

“Use your head, princess. After you try to shoot me and miss, what do you think I’ll do, hm?” He cocked the gun to emphasize his point. His steps quickened and he placed his boot on your chest, pushing you down and making you fall on your back with a grunt of pain. He didn’t remove his foot as he leaned down a little and pressed the gun to your temple.

“Give me the gun.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly and held his hand out. Your grip tightened as you swallowed thickly, debating what to do. His foot pushed down harder against your chest, making you whimper quietly. When he pushed down even harder, you finally handed him the weapon and the pressure lessened. He placed it in the holster on his leg, but didn’t remove his foot or the other gun from your body.

“I’m not a very patient guy. If I were you, I wouldn’t pull that shit again unless you want a hole through your pretty little head. Do you understand?” He gritted, pushing the gun into your temple harder. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded as your bottom lip quivered in fear.

“Good.” He said quietly, then you felt him remove the gun and kneel over your waist. When you felt nothing for a few seconds, you opened your eyes to find him examining the weapon. He turned it over in his hand, then finally met your gaze.

“And to think… you were doing so well too, princess. You're lucky I don’t just kill you right now for that little stunt.” You swallowed thickly and closed your eyes again, trying to ignore the fear that was bordering very close on arousal.

The sound of metal meeting the concrete next to your head was almost deafening and your ears rang from the gun being fired so close to you. You let out a choked sob as you shook beneath him and reluctantly opened your eyes.

“What do you say for me being so generous?” He prompted casually, as if he hadn’t just shot the ground inches from your head.

“T-thank you.” You whispered, feeling your eyes burn as his figure got blurry. You squeezed your eyes shut again and bit your lip to hide the way it was trembling.

“Are you scared?” He asked quietly, dragging the gun down your chest to your navel. All you could do was give him a small nod.

“Look at me.” The way he spoke was almost comforting- almost made you want to obey. But apparently you took too long. The gun lifted your chin and he spoke more harshly this time.

“Look. At. Me.” He growled. You opened your eyes and felt the remaining tears immediately fall down your temples as he brushed the barrel over your lips.

“Open.” His tone left no room for argument, so you did what he said. The second your lips were parted, the gun was making its way inside your mouth. You gagged at the metallic taste, and then again once it brushed the back of your throat. He fucked it in and out of your mouth slowly and you just prayed it would be over soon.

“It’d be a shame if my finger accidentally just… slipped.” He smirked. “For you though. I could still fuck you with your brain all over the floor.” You whined lowly, and he released a dark chuckle.

“Yeah, I think I like that idea actually. Send you back to your daddy stuffed full of my come and with a hole in your pretty little head.” You let out a muffled cry and unconsciously squeezed your thighs together.

“Let him see you for what you really are. Just a mindless fucktoy. Or… brainless.” He chuckled.

Finally, finally, he removed the gun from your mouth. A trail of saliva connected your lips to the barrel which only increased your embarrassment. You panted quietly and looked up at him through wet lashes with furrowed brows. He groaned and tossed the gun to the side, then leaned over your face.

“So fucked out already and we haven’t even started.” He whispered, the corner of his lips turning up in a smirk. You just stared at him breathlessly. “You know I think I deserve a little something for you being a tease earlier, don’t you?” You nodded dumbly and his smirk grew.

He positioned you so that your arms were on the ground above your head, then shuffled up your body. He placed his knees on either side of your head, effectively immobilizing your arms. Wasting no time, he removed his length from his pants and took it in his hand, stoking it slowly above your face.

It was even bigger than it felt… The tip was red and beading precum. You eyed the vein on the bottom and felt your hole flutter around nothing at the way it was almost visibly throbbing in his hand. You were brought out of your daze by him slapping his length on your cheek, smearing some of the precum there.

“Open up, princess.” There was no hesitation when your mouth fell open. He slid his cock in, torturously slow, and didn’t stop until he met the resistance of your throat. “C’mon, relax your throat. I know a little slut like you can deep throat cock so fucking do it.” He growled, pushing deeper despite the way you were gagging and choking at the intrusion.

Truthfully you’ve never been good at deepthroating. You’ve always struggled with the multitasking aspect of it- relaxing your throat, remembering to breathe, no teeth, trying to hold back your gag reflex, etc.

He roughly pulled out, then slapped you, making you gasp. Grabbing your cheeks, he turned you back to him, then leaned down over you and spit into your open mouth. Fuck- if he keeps acting like this you feel like you might actually orgasm with no stimulation at all.

“Swallow.” He demanded. You obeyed and he gave you a satisfied smile that made you want to keep being good so you could see it again.

He entered you again, this time focusing on fucking your mouth rather than trying to get all of it in. You couldn’t tell which one was better though, because everytime he hit the back of your throat, you still gagged slightly.

“God it’s like you were fucking made to take cock.” He said through a moan, snapping his hips faster. After another moment of this, he thrusted inside but didn’t pull out. He shoved his length so far down your throat that you couldn’t even gag. You watched through blurry eyes as he threw his head back with a near pornographic moan. When he finally pulled out, you coughed and sputtered as your chest heaved, taking in the much needed oxygen.

He barely gave you a moment to recover before he was stuffing you full again, brutally fucking your mouth. His knees closed around your head to keep you from turning away from him. Hot tears rolled down your temples as you struggled to breathe through your nose.

“Fuck- keep crying, princess. Makes me so fucking hard.” He said through a moan, making you release a muffled whimper. When you met his gaze, he practically went feral. His thrusts turned frantic and desperate as he chased his orgasm. Finally, he stilled, fully inside your mouth, and you felt hot come hitting your throat. His stifled moans and whimpers made you whine and clench your thighs together. He slowly pulled his fading erection from your mouth and you swallowed, then coughed violently.

“One down, two to go.” He smirked, making you stiffen. Out of arousal or fear, you weren’t sure. He shuffled back down your body until he was between your legs. Gloved hands pried your thighs apart and you felt your cheeks heat up when he chuckled.

“Look at that… Already soaked through your slutty little panties. Can’t say I’m necessarily surprised though.” He dragged his thumb over the damp fabric, making your hips buck into the friction.

Pulling a knife from his pants, he twirled it in his hand before bringing it down to your body. He trailed the tip down from your navel to the top of your panties and you were frozen as you waited eagerly. The blade ran along the waistband until he reached the fabric covering your hip. He slid the knife under and pulled up, slicing the lace easily. You swallowed down a moan as he did the same to the other side.

He pulled the fabric away from your body and held it up so you could see your arousal on it. You flushed and looked away from him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him put them in his pocket.

When warm and soft brushed your core, you jumped. He had taken off his glove and was slowly circling his thumb over your clit. You all but sobbed in relief at the much needed friction, even though his touch was feather light.

“Please.” You whimpered, making him laugh under his breath.

“Such a fucking slut… about to be raped and you’re literally begging for it.” The look of disdain on his face made you frown.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry for being a slut or for begging me to rape you?” Your brows furrowed as you tried to think of what answer he wants. “Hm?” He added with a tilt of his head.

“I don’t know...” You said timidly.

“Course you don’t.” He snickered, making you flush in embarrassment. “Are there even any brains to spill or is it just empty up there?” You frowned and looked away from him. His hand came down on your clit, the pain making you release a choked moan.

“Fuck.” You cried, biting your lip to stifle any other sounds. He hit you hard. And you were just praying that was the first and only one because you’re not sure if you can take another. His thumb went back to rubbing light circles on your clit and you watched as his gaze roamed your body.

You wanted to beg him again. Beg him for more- for anything he’d be willing to give you as long as it was just more. But you were scared that he would hit you again or worse, stop completely.

He removed his hand, making you whine, and brought it up to your face. Two fingers entered your mouth and he pushed down on the back of your tongue, intentionally making you gag. He fucked them in and out slowly, then pulled back once he was satisfied with how wet they were.

Those same fingers roughly breached your opening and he wasted no time rapidly curling them up against your walls. You let out a choked sob at the sudden stimulation and subconsciously tried to squirm away from it. He slapped your thigh in a warning, making you mewl.

“God you’re so fucking wet.” The degrading tone made you cry out and squeeze your eyes shut from embarrassment. He inserted a third finger and you finally felt the burn of the stretch. When you felt his breath fan your lips, you opened your eyes to find him leaning over your face.

“You like it, don’t you?” He asked you curiously. All you could do was nod with a small whimper. “Of course you do.” He scoffed, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit.

“Your poor daddy... Where'd he go wrong, hm? Did he not spend enough time with you?” He frowned in mock sympathy. “Is that why you’re such a whore?”

“Please.” You whined, feeling so delirious with pleasure, you could barely focus on his words. The knot of arousal in your stomach was so fucking tight it almost hurt.

“What are you begging for, princess?”

“I- I want to come… Please make me come.” You whimpered. You could feel yourself growing closer to your climax and you arched up into his body as you tilted your head back with a lewd moan.

“Please!”

“Poor thing… You’re close, aren’t you?” You nodded rapidly and tried to focus on your impending orgasm.

He roughly yanked his fingers from you and you cried out as you came back down from the edge.

“No no- please! You have to let me come, please!” Your incoherent babbling made him place his hand on your neck and squeeze until the only sounds you could release were little squeaks.

“You’re not used to being told no, are you, princess?” He raised his brows and you frowned. “I have no intention of making you come tonight. But if you’re good… I might change my mind.” You nodded quickly as hope filled your chest.

When you felt the blunt head of his cock brush through your folds, you froze in anticipation. He teased your entrance, then dragged it up to your clit, and repeated the motions.

“Please…” You croaked, barely able to get out the word with his hand on your neck.

“Say it. Beg me to rape you.” He ordered, just barely pressing the tip inside of you before removing it. His grip loosened around your neck and you took in a heavy breath now that you were actually able to.

“Please r-“ You cut yourself off with a choked sob and looked away from him as your cheeks grew warm. “Please.”

“I'm not gonna do it unless you say it, princess.” He slapped his cock against your clit a few times, making you jolt and let out a long, embarrassed whine.

“I can’t.”

“Need I remind you that you’re here for a reason. I can use a different method to get the same result and I promise it’ll be much more painful for you.”

You let out a shaky breath and closed your eyes, feeling your lips tremble. You want it. He knows you want it. But you don’t know if you’ll even be able to get the words out.

“Please fuck me.” You whimpered, looking at him with furrowed brows. He looked at you with faux disappointment and sighed.

“Maybe you just need some motivation.” He said, then his hand was moving from your neck and being replaced with a knife. Your breath hitched at the cold metal and you stiffened beneath him.

“I wonder how much I’ll have to hurt you before you finally just say it.” He sighed, trailing the tip of the blade down your neck to your chest.

“Maybe I'll have to carve it into your pretty skin.” You trembled beneath him but other than that you were completely frozen. “Let’s find out.” He smirked. You held your breath as the pressure of the blade increased. After only a second or two you gave in.

“Please rape me!” You blurted loudly, waiting for the pressure to be removed. When it wasn’t, you continued. “Please, I- I want you to rape me.” You sobbed. After another beat he finally removed the knife.

“All you had to do was ask, baby.” He purred, leaning down and licking the bead of blood pooling on your chest.

His cock entered you so quickly, it felt like all of the air was punched out of your lungs. He didn’t stop until his hips were pressed to yours. Groaning loudly, he only paused for half a second before sliding back out then slamming in again.

“Fuck- how’s a whore like you so tight, huh?” He asked breathlessly. All you could do was stare at him, brows furrowed and mouth open in a silent moan. It burned. You were in no way a virgin but he’s big and you didn’t have the prep you’re used to getting.

Lifting your legs to hang over his shoulders, he changed the pace, mercilessly pounding your hole. He was chasing his own pleasure, that much was obvious in the way he fucked you. But for some sick reason, that turned you on even more.

“God, fuck- Maybe I’ll keep you here- have a fleshlight at my disposal 24/7. How does that sound, princess?” He said through a moan. You squeezed your eyes shut and released a pathetic sob as you shook your head. “No? But baby, I could feel you clench around my cock when I said that.” Your whole face felt like it was on fire. It probably looked that way too, based on his chuckle.

He continued the brutal pace and you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath because of how fast he was fucking you. By now, the pain mostly subsided and was replaced with an aching need to come.

“Look at you,” He cooed. “You just love being raped don’t you?” You were about to whine and shake your head but he continued before you could. “Don’t bother denying it, princess. I can tell you’re about to come on my cock any minute now.” He smirked. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right.

“But you don’t have permission yet, do you?” He raised his brows and tilted his head, emphasizing the question.

“Do you wanna know what will happen if you come before I say you can?” You knew his question was rhetorical so you didn’t respond. “I’m gonna pull out and ruin it. And then I’m gonna fuck your ass. Even if you’re not screaming and crying in pain, you definitely won’t be coming from that.”

You let out a lewd moan before you could control it and he chuckled under his breath.

“I’m gonna fuck your ass until I’m ready to come and then I’ll stick it back in your little cunt and fill you up. You’d think someone who’s such a fucking whore would be on birth control...” He laughed to himself and you stiffened.

“But it probably won’t take the first time. So I’ll have to rape your ass again and again, getting myself right to the edge, then filling up your pussy each time.” You made a mental note to remember to get some plan b after he lets you go.

…If he lets you go.

While the thought should make you sick to your stomach, you found that you felt maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. The realization that you felt that way is what actually made you sick to your stomach. But despite that, you could feel yourself growing closer to the edge, especially after his words.

“Please.” You whimpered breathlessly. “Please let me come.” He cooed mockingly and the sound went straight to your aching cunt. “Please, it- it hurts.” You whined, pouting and watching your vision go blurry from tears of desperation.

“Yeah, baby? Is your little cunt just aching for some release?” You nodded as a whimper escaped your trembling lips and his thrusts slowed into gentle rocking.

“Clearly I have my work cut out for me.” He chuckled. “If you’re gonna be my fuck toy, you’re exactly that. A toy. Your only purpose is to get me off. Now if you keep whining about it, then I’ll do what I said and rape your ass instead.” His tone turned dark and for the first time in a few minutes you actually felt afraid again.

“I- I’m sorry.” You whispered, not able to meet his eyes.

“I know you are, princess. That’s why I gave you a warning.”

“Thank you…” You said quietly.

“You’re welcome. Now how about you shut the fuck up and let me get myself off, hm?” Your stomach twisted at his words, but in the way that it added to your arousal, not your fear. You nodded and stared at him with wide eyes. “Good girl.” And then he was brutally pounding your hole again.

You watched the way his eyes rolled back into his head and his mouth dropped open in a silent moan. You could faintly see his eyebrows furrowing above the mask. When he opened his eyes again and looked back at you, he growled and leaned into your neck. He left a few kisses before roughly biting the sensitive skin, making you whimper. He sucked the skin into his mouth for a few seconds, then pulled back and moved to a new spot.

As far as you could count, you think he left about six in total. But your mind was already too hazy so you didn’t completely trust your math at the moment. Around the third hickey, you brought your hand up to his hair and pulled on it. It was only after the fifth one that you realized what you did and that he didn’t stop you. He kissed his way up to your ear and panted for a moment.

“You ready to take my come?” He whispered, his thrusts growing more erratic and frenzied. You nodded quickly with a loud moan and felt his breath against your ear as he laughed quietly.

Part of you wanted him to come already because you wanted him to fill you up. But the larger part needed him to finish soon because you were only a few thrusts away from not being able to control your impending orgasm anymore.

His hand wrapped around your neck again and he snapped his hips against you twice more, before burying himself to the hilt inside of you. He rested his head in the crook of your neck and bit your skin when the volume of his moans increased, making you whimper and tighten your grip on his hair. Despite him being completely inside of you, he still bucked his hips forward, trying to bury himself even deeper, emphasizing each thrust with a low groan.

The feeling of his come flooding you was quickly bringing you to your orgasm and you prayed he was almost done. After one last buck of his hips, he released your skin from his teeth and let out a heavy sigh.

“I wasn’t being completely serious when I said that stuff about keeping you, but now I’m actually considering it.” He mumbled making you laugh but still clench his cock as his words went straight to your pussy. He hissed and leaned up until his face was above yours. His eyes moved between yours and your lips and you stared at him breathlessly as you waited for his next move.

Instead of kissing you like you were hoping he would, he leaned up completely and gently placed your legs back down around his hips. He slowly pulled out of you, making you whine at the emptiness, and you felt his cum leaking out of you and dripping down to your ass. But then you felt his fingers, bringing it back up and pushing it inside you again. You internally begged him to put his fingers inside of you- or anything, just as long as you were full again.

He seemed to pause in thought, then removed his hand and grabbed your panties from his pocket. He wiped his own dick then moved on to you. You flinched at the rough material being rubbed over your sensitive clit as he cleaned you up. Finally he tossed them on the ground next to you and stood up, tucking himself back in his pants.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and took a few photos of you, the sound of the camera deafening in the silent room.

You laid there, panting, dripping cum, desperate for release. He just collected his weapons and helmet and started walking out.

“W-wait!” You called after him, moving to a sitting position.

“What?” He barked, making you flinch.

“Will… will I see you again?” You asked quietly, your face blushing all the way down to your chest. He walked back over to you and you felt your stomach drop, worried you had made him change his mind about killing you. He leaned down so his face was level with yours and you watched his gaze move between your eyes, then to your lips. He looked like he was deep in thought. His jaw clenched and you bit your lip, trying to contain any reactions.

“The next time I need to fuck something, I’ll find you.” Your eyes fluttered at his response, your heart beating faster in your chest at the promise of a next time. But also beating faster in your cunt at his blatant objectification of you. Christ, maybe you should try therapy, you thought with an internal scoff. He gave you a small smirk, then walked out. You didn’t stop him this time.

Part 2

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #smut #jason todd smut #red hood smut #red hood x reader smut

672 notes · View notes

mykneeshurt · 2 years

Note

Telling the 141 boys + Alejandro and Rudy middle in a mission their pregnant? :0

Oooooo!!! They’d all shit their pants lmao, this is written as if they’re happy their SO is pregnant. This is a wanted pregnancy.

Warnings - pet names, gender neutral reader (as always if anything needs tweaking please make me aware!)

Price 🥃

‘John, I’m pregnant.’

Price would be overjoyed! Ecstatic even. He’s rush to you and bring you into a never ending hug but reality would soon slap him round the face. You were in the middle of a mission, with no exfil for days.

You thought you’d seen him protective before, but this is a whole other level. He’d be all over you, watching every move you make like a Hawk with its eye on its prey. Ready to jump in as soon as he had to.

He’d be on the phone to his superiors as soon as he could to get you back home, so he could have peace of mind you were safe.

Soap 🧼

‘Hey Johnny, I’ve got a surprise for you’ you smile handing over the positive test.

Soap would be beside himself with worry, he’d be so happy but the anxiety would over take that instantly. He’d be physically unable to keep his hands off your abdomen, roaming hands, little kisses on top of the wee one inside you.

He’d be in Prices office as fast as his legs could carry him telling him. Pleading for you to be taken back to base/home, anywhere away from the mission. He’d text you cute names for the baby he’d thought of, as well as links to furniture he’d found online.

He’d get to work straight away on mentally planning how the nursery would look, he’d wanna make the crib himself.

Ghost 💀

‘Simon? I need you to sit down, I’ve got some news. I’m pregnant.’

Ghost would pull you into a passionate embrace, hold his forehead against yours smiling under his mask. Deep down he would be petrified, he wouldn’t want his child to experience anything he had growing up.

He’d start to put a lot of pressure on himself to be the best dad, even before the baby was born. He’d throw himself into baby books, pregnancy books, buying them online ready to read for when he gets home.

He’d be protective but ask you what you wanted to do, knowing you were damn good at your job. He’d prefer if you went home but would respect you if you wanted to stay. He’d just be your personal bodyguard. Where you go he’s go.

Gaz 🇬🇧

‘Gaz! I’m pregnant.’

Gaz would be so happy, he’d turn low key manic at the thought of being a dad. He’d fuss over you no end, making sure you had enough to drink, to eat, we’re getting enough rest.

Gaz would also prefer you to leave the mission but would be supportive if you wanted to stay. He’d love waking up with his hands around your stomach, knowing his baby was growing inside of you.

He’d be too distracted on the mission, constantly needing to refocus himself on what he was meant to be doing. Instead daydreaming about waking up with you and the baby, Sunday papers, coffee and shitty daytime tv.

Alejandro 🌹

‘Alejandro! Look at this!’ You’d shout running the positive test to him.

He would pick you up spinning you round while kissing you. So so happy at the news of him being a father. But he’d have a very long and serious conversation with you. He’d want you to leave the mission, to be safe so he could focus. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate if he knew you were in the field.

Alejandro wouldn’t be able to keep his lips off you, kissing your face, neck, hands and especially your stomach. He’d whisper words of affection onto your stomach, wanting the growing baby to know how loved they already were.

Rudy ❤️

‘RUDY IM PREGNANT!’

Rudy would be shocked, it wasn’t that he wasn’t happy, he was. It just happened at the wrong time, like pregnancy likes to do. He’d shed a few tears of joy after getting over the initial shock. Kissing you all over and hugging you tightly.

Rudy would ask for you to be put on light duties/admin straight away, he’d be too worried if you were in the heart of chaos. He knew you could look after yourself but the thought of something happening to you scared him too much.

He’s want to name the baby after his father if it was a boy and after his grandmother if it was a girl. He’d tell you all his plans of wanting to build the baby furniture from scratch, and hanging the mobile that his grandmother made for him.

He’d tend to your every need, nothing would be too much for him.

1K notes · View notes

cosurmqne · 7 months

Text

02 — a short life of trouble

[ RDR2 X fem reader , 2310 words ] — previous ✶

“what were you thinking! bringing another woman in here.” “great, another mouth to feed.” “what if she draws more trouble right to us?”

“SHUT UP! all of you. she needs help. last time i checked half of you wouldn’t be standing here today if it weren’t for us taking your sorry asses in.”

the blood stained stranger was laying down in a bed of rough canvas and animal hide, it’s fabric the softest thing she had ever felt after a month of dirt floors and blankets of pine-needles. the distant voices slowly awoke her mind, her eyes opening carefully as the morning sun stung them with its bright beams. how long had she been asleep? she knew it was morning when she was lifted onto a strangers horse, morning still when she slumped onto the mans back out of exhaustion and defeat, not even caring what would happen to her when she awoke or where he was taking her. and yet here she was, still morning? no, the stiffness of her joints suggest at least a full days rest, her legs wobbling slightly as she turned over and placed them on the soft grass beside her.

her hands travelled to her face, expecting the almost familiar texture of dried blood, crusty and flaky, but was met with her soft skin. the edges of her hair and a few tricky spots still had reminisce of blood she could scrape off with her chipped nails, but it seemed someone had wiped her face clean.

her clothes were different too, the blouse and pants she was wearing a size too big but clean and comfortable, her ripped outfit she last remembered wearing folded neatly at the end of her bed and completely pink. she figured someone had tried to scrub them clean, but the redness was impossible to remove.

“good to see you’re finally awake.”

the sudden closeness of a mans voice made her jump and spin around. she was met with a surprisingly kind face of an older man, smiling cautiously and offering a homemade mug in his left hand, the steam and smell suggesting the rare liquid that was coffee. her mouth watered instantly.

“here, it’s for you.” he moved closer, kneeling down next to her bed and placed the warm mug in her stuff hands. “don’t worry, it wont jump out at ya’”

y/n let a small smile escape her lips, “thank you.” she croaked, her voice straining and making her cough slightly. maybe she had been out for more than a day?

as she sipped her drink and let the coffee warm her from head to toe, the man continued. “my names hosea. i’m … i guess you could say i’m kind of a top man around here. just don’t tell the others i’m really in charge …. HA!” he joked and let out a small chuckle, but the woman just looked at him curiously, seemingly frozen still apart from her arms lifting up and down. he guessed he should change his approach ….

hosea cleared his throat, “ahem, well…. you sure gave us a fright earlier on. all that blood on ya, we’d thought dutch brought back a corpse, with you slumped over and all…” with again no response, he continued. “look miss, we’re good people here. well, not really good, but better than most, i can assure you. why don’t we go somewhere a little more private, you can talk to me. tell me how you got into this mess.”

he stood and offered his arm. to y/n’s surprise, she rose and linked her own. while she should never trust a man so easily, her conscience screaming at her for it. but he seemed kind. honest and trustworthy. human. something she hadn’t seen in a long time. besides, she figured if they had wanted her dead, she would be face down in a river by now…

they walked, making a beeline towards the trees in front of them. “what was your name miss?” hosea asked.

“y/n.” she responded.

with her eyes adjusted, bearings found and legs moving again, she let herself scan the area around her. she was in a camp, one that seemed small but … live in? tents, campfires, horses and even a kitchen of sorts was set up. quite a few people were living here, men, women, even a child? she tried avoided the eye contact of the strangers around her, not knowing what mess she could have landed herself into. it seemed a few had stopped their morning chores for a fleeting moment to get a glimpse at her walking past them, pretending to take no notice of her and continuing on whenever she caught their eye. had they been waiting for her to wake up? she guessed she was a stranger sleeping amongst them, concluding she would be just as curious to get a glance at herself as well.

looking around still, she held the gaze of a familiar face, the one she had once pointed a gun towards and one took her to this place. dutch was his name right? hosea beside her seemed to look his way as well, letting out a single tune whistle and pointing his head towards the forest they were heading too. the dark haired man instantly dismissed the two men he was talking to and started coming their way. it was like a shepards call she thought, a codependent understanding that could only be trained with years of practice.

“here, this is a nice spot. i tend to do a lot of thinking here.” hosea said, leading and sitting them both down to opposite logs on soft grassy ground, much greener than the almost dirt floors back at the camp, untouched and unflattened by consistent steps. it looked out over the lake that surrounded the area, but was still thick with trees and streaked with sunlight peeking through the canopy.

the heavy footsteps of dutch became closer, his voice loud and true, “aaah, our celebrity guest, awake at last.”

as he stood before them, y/n rose upright at once, standing stiff and attentive before she could stop herself. she tried to swallow the familiar feeling of guilt like a rock stuck in her throat. “th… thank you.” she let out, quicker than she was intending. “i’d sure be dead and buried if not for you.”

she felt like this needed to said, right then and there. not totally understanding it herself, but knowing that his actions will forever be a debt she could probably never return. she knew from experience and dread that owing someone an unpayable debt was the worst burden to carry, and a feeling she wanted to loosen as soon as possible. a thanks was a start.

dutch just smiled and chuckled, raising his hands up like he did in the forest on their first encounter, “theres no need for thanks, just … take it a day at a time. at ease.”

y/n sat back down, almost embarrassed by her outburst but distracted when hosea spoke up. “dutch here said you had a run in with some o’driscolls. dealt with them pretty well too, where did you learn to shoot like that?”

the woman swallowed, she figured there was no reason to be coy anymore. a voice in the back of her head was yelling out, what are you doing!? you don’t know these men!? they don’t need to know nothin’!? and yet …. she was almost beyond caring about that now.

“my pa taught me,” she admitted, taken aback already by her honesty. “and my brother. he was a lot older than i am, sharp shooter and kept us out of trouble.”

dutch let out a noise, “tsss, some trouble you must have had. not even half my men here couldn’t kill with such efficiency.”

“well, we had a farm up north, a big property. it wasn’t much, just a few horses to sell and trade but it had been with my family for generations. it was home.” she paused. dutch and his partner were sitting opposite her and staring with unbroken attention, seemingly hanging on every word. it threw her off a little but she continued on. “being isolated up there we were bound to run into trouble, usually just some fool trying to swipe a horse, wolves maybe trying to take one for a meal. nothing unusual, but being able to take care of ourselves was a high priority, and my pa taught us well. he made sure we knew how to handle all kinds of trouble…”

“when my brother went and got himself killed down south in the war, it was me who was left in charge, with my father too old and my mother untrained. we got along just fine, until these men keep knocking at our door. harassing us, showing up constantly, trashing our barns, stealing our horses. they wanted us gone, for what reason i couldn’t say … after a few months it was manageable, i’d shot enough of them to make their appearances less frequent… but…”

she had stopped, her throat closing slightly her but no tears threatened to break free. she was thankful, crying in front of these men seemed like the worst scenario. never again would she let a sign of weakness slip from her. she had done her weeping, was done with meekness and dependency. she could tell dutch sensed that about her, while hosea watched her with concern and understanding, he was smirking slightly, like he was seeing straight through to her core.

“but?” dutch pushed her on.

with a tough swallow, she continued. “but… one day when i was collecting water from our well down by the river, i looked back up the to see a pillar of smoke. thick, grey and as high as i’d ever seen. by the time i ran back and got view of our burning home, our barns were pitch black, the horses aflame and running in every which direction, the air orange and almost unbreathable. when i saw the roof of our house collapse completely, i knew it was over. everything inside was destroyed, my parents included….” she cleared her throat. “i had just raced to our shed and grabbed as many guns as i could carry, when i heard men laughing. all those men, probably twenty, who had been coming up to us for months. all here. i realised they must have all been from some sort of gang, and could tell they’d tried to steal as much as they could from us. i knew we had hardly any money in the house, and by the small bad one of them was holding, they’d only managed to swipe no more than 30 dollars …. all that . my home, my family, everything. taken away for 30 dollars….”

she could feel heat rising through her cheeks, hands clenched into fists without knowing and her voice rising. “i guess they weren’t happy with that and decided to make their exhibition worth their time… their laughing stopped as soon as i started shooting. one by one, not even caring to hide or take cover, just wanting them dead. i needed them all dead. i don’t even know or care to remember what happened. a-mist the flames and gunpowder i one jumped me, but id stabbed with him their own knives. i shot though them all like they were no more than the deer i had killed countless times for supper. like it was a necessity, not a murder.”

“wether they were all dead or ran away or lost in the fires, i’d escaped with nothing but what i had on me. for months i’ve been running, not really sure what to do, where to go. stealing food, money, constantly moving and too scared to fall asleep or stay in one spot for longer than a week… i ran into a few more of those men here and there, they seemed to be scouting me. i learnt that they called themselves the o’driscolls and their leader was furious that a woman had outsmarted his men, that a quick robbery had turned into a slaughter. he wanted me dead. still wants me dead i guess…”

“and, this is where we meet?” dutch said, his arms now rested on his knees and hands fidgeting with the large rings on his hands but full attention of her words.

“yes, i’d been running for four days straight, how far i travelled i’m not too sure but i knew they wanted me dead for good. they’d sent a bunch of those irish bastards to me and i was constantly trying to lose them. i didn’t know if i was alive or dead, asleep or awake, i just shot anything that moved, trusted no one and tried to make it to the next sunrise… and yes, thats where you come into the picture and … i guess, now i’m here.”

“well … hell of a time you’ve had.” hosea finally spoke, his sympathetic gaze surprisingly comforting. when he reached out and cupped his hands on her own, she didn’t resist. “you can let your guard down y/n, you’ll be safe here for however long you need. i assure you, we hate those o’driscolls just as much as you do. for every one of those fools shot dead the dirt beneath us gains another worm!” to this, he chuckled to himself, y/n even letting out a small giggle.

dutch joined in with his deep laugh, “oh yes, you will fit in just fine here miss.” he stood up and gestured to the camp behind him, now full of activity. “this gang can be your home now, we’re all misfits and outlaws, once lost and then found again.”

he looked at her not with hoseas sympathy, but with eyes that assessed and schemed, invasive and sharp.

“yes, i think you’ll be just fine…”

#red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #kieran duffy #dutch van der linde #dutch van der line x reader #rdr2 oneshots #rdr #rdr2 #read dead redemption

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boldlyvoid · 1 year

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I Know Places 2: Minimal Loss

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader | Masterlist | AO3 link

Summary: Away on a case with Reid, he and our dear reader are held hostage by Libertarian Cult Leader, Benjamin Cyrus. It's now Aaron's turn to try and keep his cool while Leading the Hostage Recovery and Support mission at the same time he's realizing he's fallen in love with his subordinate…

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (child sexual assault, hostage situations), hurt/comfort, Drug use tw, unrequited love (so he thinks), mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, drug-induced love confessions

Word count: 10.3k

It’s weird being in the office without her. She flew out to Colorado with Reid last night, the two of them stayed in a hotel (one with two queen beds this time) and she texted him this morning before she headed out for the case. He missed her. He missed picking her up this morning. He missed their coffee banter and how every morning without fail she got the same breakfast that always left his car smelling like a buttery croissant.

He smiles to himself as he thinks about her. He wonders how she’s doing, he can’t wait to call her tonight and catch up… hopefully, the interviews don’t take more than a day. He’d miss her too much if he didn’t get to see her tomorrow too. Maybe he could pick them up from the airport? No. She drove herself and Reid there, so maybe he’ll bring her a baked good and they can watch TV together? Either way, he wanted to see her as soon as she got home.

When they were approached by Colorado child protective services, they received a copy of the 911 call that sparked the investigation and a short summary of the alleged unsub. Libertarian cult leader, Benjamin Cyrus of the Fringe Religious group called the Separatarian Sect. was being accused of being inappropriate with the young teenage members. The age of the caller who made the 911 call is 15. This was a crime, no matter what the libertarians personally believed, under Colorado state law, he was breaking the law by having any kind of sexual interaction with a minor.

Sending Y/N and Spencer was a no-brainer. They couldn’t send JJ because she was pregnant, but they wanted a woman there to make the children feel safe. Spencer went because he’s memorized the entire bible and most historical quotes, he’d be able to deal with a libertarian cult leader the easiest. He had faith in—

“HOTCH!”

With his door open, he’s able to hear Morgan's scream even better, he’s immediately up and out of his seat, rushing towards the door when he notices everyone watching the TV.

“The TV, Y/L/N and Reid,” he points to the screen.

The report on screen is standing a few miles from the compound, showing footage from a raid and cutting back to his face as he speaks. “No one knows for sure how many people are inside. It is believed that at least three child service members are still trapped inside the compound.”

His heart drops into his stomach as if he just fell 30 feet in 10 seconds. His eyes widen, he steps towards the railing outside his office and grips the metal pole for dear life.

This can’t be happening.

She can’t get hurt.

He can’t lose her too.

Just then every single phone in the office starts to ring, he’s pulled back to reality and he catches his breath, “alright, that means we’re the lead with Hostage Rescue and Support. Let’s go!”

He runs to his office and grabs his go bag, he shoves his phone in the bag, makes sure his gun is still on his hip and his badge and wallet in the back pocket of his suit pants. He doesn’t bother bringing his suit jacket, he honestly doesn’t even remember to take it as he bounds down the stairs and runs to the elevator.

They all rush to the plane as quickly as possible, it’s always fueled and ready to go, so getting into the air takes less than 15 minutes. Once in the air, they open up their laptop and Penelope patches over a live feed of the Colorado news.

“It turned deadly when the Colorado state police officers tried to serve a warrant. Colorado attorney general, Jim Wells, says the reclusive cult has been the subject of a 6-month weapons investigation”

“6 months?” Morgan repeats. “We didn’t check?”

“Oh, we did,” JJ pipes up, visibly pissed. “I had ATF call Wells and he told ATF there were no pending state investigations. He lied.”

“Why?” Rossi asks, not understanding why he’d lie about that.

“Wells is challenging the governor in the upcoming election,” JJ explains. “He thought that ATF were going to poach his big election-launching weapons bust. Now, it’s clear he didn’t know there were FBI agent’s there, he just thought the best time to serve a state warrant was when the kids were safe inside the school being interviewed.”

“What do we know about the sect?” Rossi poses the question to the group.

Penelope, listening in on a video call the whole time, flips the screen from the news to her face. “Liberty Ranch was founded in 1980 by Libertarian Leo Kane. He created it as a self-sustaining commune.”

“Libertarians believe that everyone has the right to do what they want as long as they aren’t infringing not eh rights of others,” Derek points out.

“But libertarians aren’t religious,” Dave reminds them. “Clearly this sect abandoned libertarian principles.”

Aaron takes a deep breath, he’s still anxious, and his heart is racing but he has to get his head in the game. “Benjamin Cyrus, the current leader, introduced religion 8 years ago when Kane left.”

“Garcia, what do we got on Cyrus?” Derek asks her.

“Oh, we got bupkis,” she sounds disappointed. “It's like the guy never cast a shadow on the known universe… however his predecessor, Leo Kane, is doing a 17-year stretch at Deerfield Federal Prison… apparently libertarians do not like paying taxes.”

“17 years for tax evasion?” Derek laughs.

“Oh no, that would be 2 years for tax evasion and 15 years for going after four IRS agents with a Louisville Slugger…” Garcia pressed her lips together awkwardly, what a dumb crime to commit.

“Let’s have Kane brought to the scene,” Hotch instructs her to get the paperwork going. “He’s our best chance at finding out some idea of who we’re dealing with.”

“You got it,” she cheerfully agrees and turns off her camera.

They all settle into their plane seats then. It was a 3-and-a-half-hour flight, all he could do was prep negotiation teams and worry about Y/N. He worried for Reid's safety too, of course, Spencer was like a son to him… his heart just yearned for Y/N and after losing Kate, he can’t bare going through that kind of loss again and so soon.

He felt as though he was destined to only know what it was like to be left, not loved. He had such a tumultuous relationship with his ex-wife, being high school sweethearts also came with high school drama. He graduated a year before her, he was in college and she wanted to see other people. So they took their first break. He was doing law school and she was in teacher's college and they took a second break because his studying took up too much of his time and she felt as though she needed physical attention he couldn’t give her… then he went to Scotland Yard, back when he didn’t know if he wanted to work for Interpol or the FBI and once again distance caused them to go on break a 3rd time. He met Kate Joyner, they had a thing and when he returned to the States he asked Haley to marry him. He should’ve known that she would run once his attention shifted to things other than her. He thought maybe having a baby would change that about her. He thought maybe she loved him— loved their family enough to stay.

He was wrong.

Now he’s divorced, Kates dead and… and he thinks he might be falling in love with his subordinate.

He takes a moment to go to the bathroom on the jet just for a chance to get away from everyone. He leans against the sink and puts his hands over his face, shaking his head with disbelief. It all happened so fast. One minute they’re co-workers and he enjoys working with her and the next she was filling the void in his heart. Mind you, he knew her when he was married, he didn’t have the capacity to see her as anything other than a friend… now that’s all changed.

He took the ring off and his heart searched for warmth. For comfort. For morning coffees and laughter on the drive to work. For late-night chats and gossip about celebrities. For a hand to hold. For a body to cuddle into in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. For someone to care for him. For Y/N.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to do this. How he’s going to stay calm and cool and collected while he knows she’s in there? He doesn’t know what he’ll do if she’s hurt. He isn’t sure how he’ll make judgements and do the negotiations knowing that every decision he makes could have consequences.

He heads back to his seat to see everyone else is also doing their best to stay calm. They all love Reid and Y/N, and each of them wants to bring their friends home in one piece… he’s not alone in being anxious and worrying for their safety. Maybe he can play it off, maybe they won’t guess he loves her in a way that differs from how they do.

—

Once they land they’re met with bureau issues SUVs and given an escort to the crime scene, all their sirens on, they speed down back county roads causing dust to fly behind them and rocks to flick up from under their wheels, hitting the car behind them.

When they arrive at the Hostage Negotiation and Support Command Centre, Aaron lets Morgan and JJ head in to set up and he pulls Dave aside. “They’ve left the choice of negotiators up to me.”

“I taught most of the hostage negotiation unit,” Dave reminds him. “You want a recommendation?”

“I’m making you lead negotiator.”

“Me?” Dave can’t believe him.

“why go to the students when I have the teacher,” he simplifies his decision.

“because the teacher is emotionally involved,” Dave spits back. “So is the agent in command.” He stares Aaron down, watching for any facial moment that would give way to just how much he cares for Y/N. Of course, he knew.

He gives in, looking down to the ground, he can’t explain how much this is hurting him. “I know I am. This is a unique situation. We have two agents who could affect the outcome on the inside.”

“True, but I can’t be objective. I know them too well!”

“This outcome depends as much on our ability to predict the moves of Y/N and Reid as much as it does Cyrus,” Aaron explains. “That’s why you’re the best man for the job.”

“Assuming that Spencer and Y/N—” he puts weight on her name to make Aaron know he caught that. The use of her first name and Spencer's last, it’s a hierarchy of needs. He knows Aaron subconsciously wants her safe just the tiniest bit more than Reid. “Are still in a condition to make moves.”

“I-I know how bad this is,” Aaron says, voice dropping down to a whispered tone. “That’s why I want you doing the talking. I need you doing the talking.”

“Alright,” Dave gives—.

“You’re obviously not in charge, I can see that!!!” A man's voice bellows through the air.

“I’m sorry sir, I’m under direct orders from the FBI,” one of the hostage negotiation team members explains.

“I’m the attorney General of this state, I demand to know why I wasn’t told the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Separatarian Ranch?”

It’s Wells. The man who got them stuck in the position, to begin with.

Aaron starts walking away from Dave, driven by anger, he walks right up to the man. “The only thing that you’re in a position to demand is a lawyer.”

“Who the hell are you?” The man asks as if he’s about to laugh at Aaron's voice of authority.

“I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who’s going to tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you obstructing a federal investigation of negligent homicide,” Aaron spits back, getting more in this man's face.

“You can’t talk to me like that.”

Aaron takes another step in, towering over the man, “Get off my crime scene.”

And just like that, the man cowers, running away to his car and driving away.

Aaron turns to the other man, the one who was trying to answer Wells’ questions before. Aaron knew him from the bureau. “Hey Dan, you know Dave Rossi?”

“Sure do,” Dan smiles, reaching over to shake Dave's hand.

“We’ve been here before, haven’t we?” Dave jokes.

“Waco, Ruby Ridge, Freeman standoff,” Dan recounts. “Let's hope someone listens to you guys this time.”

“Oh, they did more than listen. They put us in charge,” Dave announces, hands on his hips, ready to go.

“So bring us up to speed?” Aaron asks.

“I've sent the state police packing. They started this mess and lost a man in the process. I hope that’s okay?”

“If you hadn’t we would’ve.”

“Good.”

“The county Sheriffs have had no run-ins with the sect, so we’re using them as support. We’ve had no contact with them so far. they’re got power. Solar. We can shoot out the panels if you think—

“No, no that’s an escalation,” Dave shoots that down.

“Okay, that means they have access to the news,” Dan reminds them.

“I’ll get JJ to talk to the press. Are your men ready to be briefed?” Aaron asks. Dan nods. “Let's go.”

Inside the trailer they’ve set up for secure meetings, Derek, Dave and Aaron start to give the preliminary profile and brief. There’s only a handful of men, which is best. Having too many cooks in the kitchen leads to chaos. 6-10 people, that’s much more manageable.

“We call this the Minimal Loss scenario,” Dave explains. “Every person we get out is a life saved. We won’t save them all. All of us have t be prepared to accept that situation.” He looks over at Hotch and then presses his lips together awkwardly.

Derek steps up to the whiteboard and picks up a marker, “cults are structured like pyramids.” He explains while drawing a triangle on the board. “You got the leader at the top, die-hard believers beneath… and the biggest group, the base. The followers.” He makes a point to circle that group and look at the other men. “Women and children are in this group. These are the people we can save.”

“The ‘trickle, flow, gush’ strategy is designed to get the base followers out,” Aaron explains. “First one or two, then three or four, then as many as we can, as fast as we can. And if at any point it starts to go bad. We go in.”

“The leaders are charismatic sociopaths who target the most susceptible to their seduction. They have the ability to see what each person needs and then they become that thing. We have to undermine their perception that we’re an invading army laying siege to their homes,” Dave explains.

“We’ll lose the fatigues,” Dan assures them. Losing the army look will make them much more approachable. “Ranchers clothes work for you? Like we did at the Freeman standoff?”

“Perfect. Anything we can do to demilitarize the situation,” Dave agrees. “But that’s about it… we have to make first contact and then we can act accordingly from there.”

“We have a phone set up for you guys outside by the lookouts,” Dave explains. “Nightfall is coming, they’ll be the most in need when it’s dark. We should call then.”

“Agreed,” Aaron nods.

Dave hits the speed dial button for the ranch, they wait for 5 or 6 rings and then they answer. “you killed my mommy and daddy, are you going to kill me too?” A little girl's voice answers, on speakerphone for everyone to hear.

“No one is going to kill you, honey,” Dave assures.

“This is Benjamin Cyrus, who am I talking to?” Comes down the line mere seconds later.

“David Rossi. I’m an FBI agent. We’ve sent the state police away, there’s just us and the local sheriff now. All we want to do is resolve this before anyone else gets hurt,” he explains.

“Then leave us alone.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Benjamin, one of the police bled out on the way to the hospital,” he explains, wondering if they haven’t watched the news yet. “So let's just stop this before things get worse. Please, just put the guns down and come out.”

“we’re believers Dave,” Benjamin starts. “We believe that god says what he means and means what he says. His laws don’t depend on what state you live in.”

“I have no issue with your beliefs,” Dave reminds him.

“You don’t. But the state does,” Benjamin is clearly pissed off that any of this happened today.

That makes two of them.

“I can’t answer for other people,” Dave states.

“God will answer for everyone in the final battle that I’ve foreseen.”

Aaron sighs, leaning his head back and shaking it. He hates these religious types. Rossi makes eye contact with him as he keeps talking, “That’s why I’m here. To make sure that this is not that battle.”

“We shall see…”

Sounds more like a taunt.

“Now the three child services workers—

“one is dead,” Benjamin interjects.

Aaron's heart sinks down to his stomach further, he feels like he could be sick. They all have the same look on their faces.

“It wasn’t us,” Ben assures them. “It happened in the standoff, a stray bullet flying into our chapel clipped her.”

“We need a name, so I can alert the family,” Dave explains. Hoping to pry it out of him.

“Nancy Lund,” he says and everyone lets a wave of relief selfishly pass over themselves.

“Okay, now please, Benjamin, send out your wounded. I promise you they’ll be taken care of,” Dave asks. Trying to start the trickle.

“With enough supplies, we can tend to our own,” Benjamin explains. They’re not leaving any time soon.

“Okay, I need a few hours to put it together,” he explains. “I’ll bring them up myself at first light.”

Without a goodbye or a thank you, Cyrus hangs up.

They head back into the trailer after that, prepping med kits and retrofitting any electronics that get sent in with small microphones so they can spy on their every movement and plan. Aaron’s just excited for the chance to hear her voice again and know she’s okay.

“I’m going to go in and double-check that the kids, Y/L/N and Reid are okay,” Dave announces as he walks back into the trailer.

“Rossi, at least let me go with you?” Derek bags.

“No,” he shakes his head. “This is about building trust. I go alone.”

“I want the parabolic arc mics fixed on every window in that structure,” Dan announces to the rest of his crew.

“They won’t pick up much,” one of them pipes up. “They have blinds on all the windows, unless they’re shouting the glass won’t vibrate enough for us to get audio.”

“Well if they’re not shouting, these bugs will pick 'em up… at least until the batteries die,” Dan assures them, screwing the back onto an electronic thermometer. “How familiar are your agents with our playbook?”

“The BAU wrote the CIRG handbook,” Aaron reminds him. “They’ll know that we’re trying to get ears in there at all times.”

“Good, let’s hope they can get these people talking.”

“They will.”

—

At first light, Aaron sits at the listening station with a mug full of freshly brewed coffee and his headphones on, listening to everything as Rossi drives up to the compound.

He hears their introduction, muffled through the boxes of supplies. He hears Cyrus spout some more godly bullshit and claim he’s trying to protect the children. He’s not ready to let any of them go now, so Dave shakes his hand and heads out on his way. As soon as the door is closed, Cyrus says: “Prepare the wine.”

There’s a shuffling sound as everyone moves around the room, the elders no doubt do everything Cyrus says and the women and children stay seated. After a few minutes, he hears Cyrus again, muffled but there, saying something about being 1 day closer to god…

“Look at Jessica's body language,” Y/N’s voice can be heard as though she’s standing right beside the box of supplies. “The way she looks at him.”

“She literally worships him there’s no way she made that 911 call?” Spencer questions next.

Derek and Aaron look at each other, nodding with a small smile, they’re okay. Not safe, but okay.

“Look at how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter,” Y/N speaks again. “She’s inserting herself between them…”

Cyrus is getting everyone to drink just as Dave is running back into the trailer. “Reid and Y/L/N are okay.”

“what about Cyrus?” Derek asks.

“He's too calm? It's like he was waiting for this to happen?” Dave suggests. “And now that it has he feels vindicated.”

“Hey guys,” Dan calls their attention back to the headsets.

“We’ll be with him soon. We have drank the poison together,” Cyrus’ voice is heard.

They all turn to each other with horrified expressions. “What the fuck?” Aaron exclaims, “I thought you said he was calm?”

“He was! He wanted me to think nothing was going on, he’s a master manipulator! We have to take everything he says and does with a grain of salt,” Dave reminds him.

“We need to go in!” Derek shouts, gathering his things with Dan.

“If we go in there people are gonna die!” Dave shouts.

“People are already dying!” Aaron shouts back, headset pressed to his good ear, he’s still listening to Cyrus preach.

“What do we do?” Y/N whispers.

“Nothing,” Spencer assures her.

“We have to do something these people just took poison!” She snaps back at Reid.

“I don’t think they did?”

“Wait! Wait!” Aaron gathers them all back towards him. “Listen,” he switches the audio playback to the speakers.

“Cyrus just told them they did, I think he’s bluffing,” they hear Spencer’s whisper loud and clear.

“Why do you think that?” Y/N asks.

“Just after he told them they took the poison he waited for them to react and then he nodded to Cole who started to note down everyone who looked sad, look…. They're scanning the audience for the people who are fine with dying now and who are a bit skeptical. This is their way of narrowing down the true believers and those who he can send out to Rossi,” Spencer explains. “He’s smart enough to possibly know our strategies, he wants to send out a trickle of people and then do something during the gush…”

“Jim Jones pulled the same stunt,” Rossi reminds everyone, agreeing with Reid. “They did a test run just like this years before they did the real thing.”

“Dan, prepare your men to go in but not before I give you the go-ahead,” Aaron points back to him. “We need to wait just a few more minutes, if I hear Y/L/N or Reid say anything about people falling sick or passing out, we go in.”

“Got it!”

Aaron covers his hand over his mouth and hopes to god he doesn’t have to send men in there. They already lost one social service member in the crossfire, he can’t lose his agents too.

“Be still, there was no poison,” Cyrus speaks. “Instead a test of faith BECAUSE YOUR ADVERSARY THE DEVIL WALKETH ABOUT AS A ROARING LION!! Choosing who he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother's keeper.”

“Dan!” Aaron calls out to him, he comes popping his head back into the trailer. “Stand down, Cyrus said it was a rouse.”

JJ comes walking in behind him, “The former sect leader just arrived.”

“I got it,” Derek volunteers himself. “call me if there are updates.” He says as he leaves, holding his phone up to assure them he has it.

“Charles Mulgrew, convicted in Kentucky at the age of 18. Three counts of statutory rape,” Penelope says through the phone, recounting her findings to the whole team now… well, the free 4.

“So we need to talk to the warden,” Derek says with a sigh.

“Way ahead of you there, honey,” she assures him, making Derek crack a small smile. “Mr. Kentucky Warden said that once inside, Mulgrew found religion and became a model citizen.”

“Well it’s not that hard to behave when you’re in protective custody,” Derek reminds her.

“General populations a rough place for a child molester,” Hotch adds.

“No, no, no, I don’t think guys understand he was a Model Citizen. This guy volunteered at the prison hospital,— the aids ward, he was reading to prisoners dying of HIV… he was emulating saint,” Penelope explains father.

“Good stuff, mama,” Derek compliments her the way he always does.

“Damn straight now you get our friends back, baby,” she says before clicking off the call to do more digging.

“Well,” Dave stands a little straighter and sucks in a deep breath. “This makes things worse.”

“What? That he’s a model citizen?” Derek laughs.

“That he’s been to prison,” Dave looks at him, he’s completely serious. There’s no room for giggles now.

Derek closes his eyes for a moment and his shoulders drop, “right. He knows what happens to child molesters there…”

“If the current sexual allegations are true and he thinks we know it, he’s not coming out of there,” Hotch agrees.

“Then we have to make him think he’s not going back to prison,” Dave assures.

“JJ,” Aaron calls back into the main tent for her. “I need you to release a press statement saying that we have absolutely no evidence of sexual allegations.”

JJ comes marching back over to them, sweaty and exhausted, she rests her hands on her pregnant belly and shakes her head, “You need to see this, pop the laptop open. Click on the news tab and play the audio…”

They follow her instructions, gathering around the laptop they see the same news guy from yesterday, he’s set up a little camp for himself in the hills somewhere. He has a perfect view of the ranch and he’s keeping his voice low.

“Now well into its second day, the standoff at the Separatarian Sect Ranch is now been taken over by the FBI. There is much speculation in regard to hostages, but anonymous sources inside the state attorney general's office have told us there is an undercover FBI agent currently being held inside the ranch. Hostage negotiators say they are making headway with the sect's leadership and are hopeful for a positive outcome. There is still no word as to why an undercover FBI agent was sent in alone…”

“Are you fucking Kidding me?” Hotch stands, anger than ever before. “I’m going to I’m going to wring that fuckers neck. I’m going to make his life a living hell.”

“Hotch,” JJ can’t believe those words left his mouth.

“You two,” he points at Derek and Dave, “you get to the parabolic mics and listen in as best as you can. JJ I want you to circle back with Penelope and tell her she can dig into Wells' life as hard as she can and you can reach out to the press with dirt on him. He wants to win the election so bad he’s willing to get federal agents dead, then we’re going to air all his dirty laundry.”

“Got it,” JJ likes that idea and runs back into the tent to make her calls.

Dave and Derek run to the parabolic mic station, leaving Aaron to head back inside and listen to the other spy mics they sent in.

There’s a silent chatter in the church, the mics are picking up more now that they’re not trapped inside boxes and surrounded by supplies. There are a few different angles they get based on what supply was places where. They’re all synced up, playing at the same time and able to be pinpointed for spy-in on individual conversations.

Suddenly, they hear the sound of a struggle, “Get off me! I can walk without you pulling my fucking hair!” Y/N’s voice shouts back.

“FBI scum like you don't get to give orders,” one of Cyrus’ goons speaks back to her and then he hears a slap.

Y/N groans at the pain and Aaron covers his mouth. He’s never been this anxious in his whole life. He wants to run down there, break in and kick the shit out of anyone who laid a hand on her. And then it gets worse.

More mics pick up the sound of the struggle. They hear what Aaron supposes is her body being dragged as she struggles and then the sound of her smacking the concrete. It sounded hard. Like she hit her head.

“I thought I told you not to put me in this position!” Cyrus shouts. Slamming the door behind himself.

Of course, he wouldn’t do this in front of the members.

He slaps her again, the sound of her struggle makes Aaron want to throw up. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. One second he’s covering his mouth then holding the headphones to his ears and the next he’s just holding them out for no reason. He listens in as she keeps getting hit. Punched, kicked, slapped… he really hopes that this is the extent of Cyrus’ abuse. If he had to hear anything else…. He would actually throw up all over everything.

“We’ve gotta go in,” Aaron says as he takes the headphones off. Derek and Rossi come running into the trailer then.

“We can’t go in,” Dave reminds him. “We’d be risking the lives of everyone in there.”

He knows Dave is right, Dan’s put the sound of her struggle on the speaker for everyone to hear and Aaron can’t escape it. The sound of her being hit again and again, moaning from the pain, she’s struggling to defend herself.

“Get up!” Cyrus says, hauling her up and then punching her in the face again. She slams into something this time, there’s the sound of a window or glass or something shattering and then her crying.

“Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse evil,” he spouts his bullshit at her. Then he growls, tossing her in another direction and she falls to the floor once more.

She cries, breathing in sounds like it hurts as she whines as she does so, “I can take it!”

“Oh, you can take it?” Cyrus just gets more pissed at that. He slaps her again and she cries more.

“I can take it!”

“Listen to what she’s saying…” Dave suggests.

“She’s antagonizing him!” Derek gets defensive, on Hotch’s side and wants to go in.

“She’s not talking to him, she’s telling us not to come in,” Aaron agrees with Dave, bowing his head, he hates that he’s right.

He can’t take this anymore. He gets up and leaves the room, Dave can listen to the rest. He has to step outside, away front he watchful eye of everyone there and around behind the trailer. He rests his back against it and sinks down to the floor, his face in his hands. He cries.

The weight of everything comes crashing down on him in that moment. He lost his wife. He hasn’t seen his son for more than a few hours in the last 6 months, his friend and colleague died in his arms in the middle of the street and he almost died too. The only good thing that’s happened in all of this is that he’s gotten closer to Y/N.

If anything happens to her he’s going to actually go insane. He may have joked about it before, when he was off work and had nothing to do… but now it feels real. He can’t lose her. He can’t go through the trauma of burying another friend. He can’t imagine losing another woman he loves. Cause he does love her. He loves her more than he should love a co-worker.

It all started when he got divorced. He never had eyes for any other woman but his wife, however, after the divorce… he found himself enjoying her company for reasons other than friendship. Sure, getting coffee together in the mornings was nice and he didn’t care for her choice of TV shows but hearing her talk and knowing her opinions on things felt special to him. He knew a side of her that no one else on the team knew.

And sleeping beside her didn’t help his crush either. She was so soft. She cuddled into him like she was always meant to be there. When he woke up that next morning, spooned into her, he could smell her hair and he had his hand on her stomach… under her shirt. As if in the night they got even closer than either one of them ever thought possible.

Derek comes out to find him just a few minutes later. Aaron’s managed to wipe his tears and pull himself together a bit, he accepts Derek's hand and gets pulled back up to his feet. “They took her to another room but there are blinds on the windows so we can’t hear anything.”

Aaron just nods. “I don’t know why she did that, why she put herself in danger like that.”

“He probably held a gun to one of them and got them to confess, he did that to get Kane out of the ranch, too,” Derek theorizes. “Maybe she confessed to get him off Reid? Reid’s only in there because he knows the bible so well, he can get on Cyrus’s good side and help us out. She knew that.”

“Still,” Aaron can’t really argue.

“I know you love her, man, but we’ve got a job to do,” Derek whispers. “I feel the same way about Spencer.”

Aaron’s a little shocked to hear that but then again, not? It makes sense. The teasing, the closeness, the room sharing… that time Spencer missed his flight to hang out with another man he knew as a teenager. There were signs there from both of them, he just never thought to read them until now.

Aaron stares into his eyes, the two men would do anything for their team already, knowing they both loved someone in the ranch, which made them even more eager to do this right. “So let’s get them out of there.”

Back inside the trailer, Rossi has the speakers on still, and Reids talking. “Nancy said she was a child abuse interview expert from Denver. In the four years I’ve worked with her, Nancy’s never lied to me before.”

“As far as you know,” Cyrus spoke, believing him. “Their law says that a 15-year-old girl is a child when just 50 years ago that same law said that a 14-year-old was an adult. Have children changed so much in 50 years?”

“I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve investigated abuse charges against small religious groups… most all of them turn out to be false,” Reid lies to him. Successfully.

“What do you think of that?”

“What does it matter what I think?”

“It matters to me,” Cyrus assures him.

“Why?”

“Because god wants to save you,” Cyrus spouts.

“I swear to god if Cyrus comes out of there alive I’m going to beat him to death with my bare hands,” Derek mumbles under his breath to Hotch.

“Get in line.”

“I mean, that’s why god sent you here, isn’t it?” Cyrus poses, making reid feel like he’s a part of them now.

“I think… on the next call you should test them,” Reid suggests. “Test the negotiator. Make him prove that he isn’t a liar.”

“How would you suggest do that?”

“Ask for the identity of the FBI agent—

“We already know her identity,” his goon responds for him.

“They don’t know that we know,” Cyrus agrees with Reid.

“but the FBI would never tell is that?” The goon responds again.

“They keep asking you to release people, say you’ll release a kid only if they tell you her identity and if they really care about the children they’ll have to tell you her identity,” Spencer tries harder to get Cyrus on his side.

“You’re trying to get us to release a child!” The man fights with Reid.

“It’s one kid,” Spencer talks to him like he’s an idiot. “If they don’t hold up on their end of the deal then you know they can’t be trusted.”

“He’s right,” Cyrus ultimately agrees.

“Reid has ‘em,” Rossi turns back to them, clearly proud of the kid.

“What is it, Christopher?” Cyrus asks his friend.

“Well… some of them have been talking about… leaving?” He poses the suggestion.

“Leaving?” Cyrus repeats.

“yeah…”

“Wake the baby. Let them see the orphan they’ve made.”

“Okay, everyone!!” Hotch calls out of the trailer, getting the other's attention. “We’re about to get a call, we should expect some members to be released shortly. Get ready for phase one.”

Everyone rushes around then. Preparing to make room for the followers, cars are called in to collect people and take them to a hotel for the night and a few ambulances show up in case anyone is in need of medical support.

But no call comes in.

They wait all night until the sun comes up. But nothing.

“They’re probably going to ask when we call them,” Rossi suggests. “I’ll give my morning call at 6.”

“Okay,” Hotch agrees. “Morgan, I want you to take the truck up to the ranch and collect the little girl, if anyone else is released, Dan will come up and help escort them over here.”

“Yes sir.”

—

Rossi calls in right at 6. They haven’t heard anything else over the mics or through the windows. Most of the members must’ve been asleep in the chapel overnight. Sleeping in pews or on the floor… they all must be exhausted and mostly ready to leave now that the condition of their stay has changed.

“Good morning, Ben, how are you today?” Rossi speaks to him cheerfully.

“We are prepared to release a child if you tell me the identity of the FBI agent promise no harm will come to them from this point forward,” Cyrus leads right into it.

A wave of relief washes over Aaron.

“I can’t give you that information,” Rossi eggs him on.

“I will send the child now.”

Aaron waves his hand to Dan who’s got eyes on the ranch, a little girl has started to walk out of the compound and is standing in the gravel driveway. Dan motions to Derek who’s already taking his gun off and handing it to Hotch who hands him a radio in return. He takes off to the truck then, one of the other men drives Derek up and they watch on the cameras as Derek calmly collects the little girl and gets her into the truck safely.

“I’m taking a big risk here Ben,” Dave tries to play it cool with him.

“Trust is earned,” Cyrus reminds him.

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N,” Rossi says her full name. “She came in with two child service workers to talk to the girls.”

“There’s a good chance we can work this out, Dave” Cyrus assures him. “I’m gonna provide another sign of good faith.”

“You’re doing a good thing here,” Dave assures him. Hyping up his confidence, getting on his good side.

Cyrus hangs up after that and they rely back to the microphones. “Assemble everyone in the chapel. Get agent Prentiss back down here,” Cyrus orders Christopher.

“This is it,” Aaron assures Dave and Dan. “We’ve started the trickle, it’s about to flow. We need to be prepared for women in children to be released as well as some of their husbands who’ve lost faith in Cyrus.”

Just as they thought, 10 minutes after the order to gather everyone, Cyrus starts to explain why he has them all gathered there. He points out that some of them have lost their faith, that he no longer can support people who don’t support him and his god. And then he starts to name names.

“He looks pissed?” They hear Y/N whisper.

Of course, the two of them would stand where they could be heard the best by the others.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she assures Spencer.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers to her.

“Look at who he’s releasing,” Y/N says again.

“It’s the ones who failed the loyalty test,” Spencer explains. “I’ll get word to the team. You wait for a sign from the outside that will tell us when the raid will come.”

The room goes quiet for a few moments and then they heard, “Take her back.”

Y/N was being sent back to whatever room they had her locked in, in the first place. They need to figure out where that would be… they need to be able to find her during the raid and get her out of there safely.

“Those of you standing, collect your belongings and meet in the main hall immediately,” Cyrus orders.

Not long after that, they start to see a bunch of people start to leave the chapel. Just then, Cyrus calls them. They send Dan and his guys out to collect the survivors and Hotch listens in on the phone call.

“We will surrender tomorrow at noon, we want the press there to make sure that we’re treated fairly,” Cyrus makes them a deal. “We’ll discuss the details tomorrow at our 7 am call… I’ll see you then Dave.”

“I look forward to it,” Dave agrees.

“Oh, and one more thing, could you send in some food in?” He requests.

“Sure, what would you like?” Dave pretends to be hospitable but by the look on his face, Aaron can tell he rather take a bite out of a leather shoe than keep this act up.

“Fried chicken, all the fixings.”

“You got it! I’ll have it brought right up to you.” Dave hangs up and shakes his head. “I hate this mother fucker.”

“I don’t understand, why did you let them go?” Another goon asks, more like, demands to know from Cyrus.

“They weren’t prepared to do what was needed of them,” Spencer butts in.

“Yeah, no offence but you’re not one of us so shut the fuck up,” he spits back at Spencer.

“Listen to him,” Cyrus sides with Reid. “Tell him, Spencer.”

“They failed the test,” Spencer explains. “They-they had a chance to prove their faith when Cyrus told them that they’d sacrificed themselves for god, but instead they showed they weren’t worthy…. That’s why he wants the media to bear witness to your true final act of sacrifice.”

“how do you know that?” The man asks.

“I’m always looking for signs of things to come.”

“Spencer’s asking us for what time to expect the raid,” Dave understands his meaning right away. “He’s telling us this is it! Time is running out! We’ve gotta go in!”

—

The food arrives around mid-day, and they have it delivered to the trailer first. They examine it all to make sure nothing's been tampered with by the restaurant and then they get it all boxed up and ready to go.

“We obviously can’t spike the food 'cause there are kids,” Aaron explains to Dan. “So we need to find another way to alert Spencer that there is a raid coming…”

Just then he picks up a red Sharpie marker and writes on the lid of the chicken box. “New management, open until 3 AM tonight!!” He underlines it a few times and then repeats it on the boxes for the corn and mashed potatoes and biscuits. Spencer has to see it somewhere.

Aaron and Derek are so positive that Spencer can find a way to prepare for the raid inside and figure out a way to get the women and children out of harm's way when Derek, Dave and Dan come crashing through the doors. He’s not going, he has to stay back with JJ and oversee the whole operation. He hates it. But it’s his job.

Derek and Dave go up to the ranch to deliver the food and just as there’s a commotion at the door and everyone is busy at the ranch, the parabolic mikes pick up Y/N’s voice.

“AARON!” Dan yells for him from outside, causing him to rush down to him.

“What?” He fears for the worst.

“it’s Y/N, she’s listening to the blinds with her high-heeled boot and we can hear her, listen,” he hands him the headphones.

“If you can hear me, I know you’re coming. I can try to get the women and children down to the tunnel but I need to know when you’re coming.”

She keeps repeating those two sentences over and over.

“come on,” Aaron gets up, grabs a riffle with a laser scope and they head to the hill closest to the ranch. Dan follows behind him with the transmitter, listening in on what Y/N’s saying still.

He points the gun right at the window and she sees the laser shine against the wall in the room she’s trapped in.

“I got you, what time are you coming in?”

He blinks the laser 3 times.

“3 am?”

He keeps the beam steady and nods the gun, up and down, as if he’s nodding yes.

“Got it. Reid is on the first floor somewhere with Cyrus, and please remember there are children here... someone's coming,” she’s quick to pull her foot away from the window and they lose signal with her.

Dan starts to retreat, leaving Hotch there with the gun and a hopeful feeling. “Hang in there, sweetheart.”

—

At 2:15 AM they start preparing for the raid. Swat is called in, they’ve got a supply of Humvees supplied by the army, weapons, ammunition, and tear gas. They’re ready to go. All without Aaron.

Aaron has his headset on and his radio with him, listening in on the Sect while also in contact with the team as they make their way closer to the ranch.

They know somethings up, that somethings coming… they should’ve cut the lights to the Humvees and gone in there blind.

Cyrus heads outside of the chapel, points his gun in the air and starts shooting the sky, gathering attention from the media just over the hill. He wants them to see how this all goes down.

Luckily, Cyrus just doesn’t know how much they know. When Derek met with the previous leader, Kane, he drew them a map of the whole facility. Secret tunnels, bunkers, you name it, they know where it is. So that’s where they go in.

On the radio he hears Dan give the go-ahead for phase one, the men storm the tunnel exit and surprise the guard down there with flash grenades and tear gas, subduing him. The men force their way inside, they drag the guard to the corner and cuff him up so he can’t cause any trouble and within seconds, Derek is on the radio.

“Y/N’s here, she got the women and children down to the tunnels,” Derek alerts him. “I’m sending them out to you, Dan.”

“Ten-4, I have a vehicle ready to transport them to safety,” Dan responds.

“They’ve wired explosives,” Derek alerts through the radio. “We need to move, now!”

Aaron throws on a bulletproof vest then and starts to run out of the tent, “where are you going!?” JJ calls after him.

“to help get them as far away from the blast as possible this is an all-hands-on-deck situation!” He yells back and keeps running.

He runs as fast as he can, following the dimly lit dirt road up to the chapel, he can see the women and children running out of the tunnels and towards the front of the building. “Over here! This way!” He calls to them, “Over here! You need to get away from the building!”

“Aaron!” Y/N shouts, as the last one to leave the tunnel, she ushers the women and children towards him and hobbles along as fast as she can.

She runs right into his arms, and they both make an audible “oof,” as their chests collide but he holds her close. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” she assures him, pulling back, she turns to face the others, “Keep moving, follow the lights, head to that tent back there!”

They usher them up the road, keeping them at a safe distance from the building, he rests his hand on her back and when she turns to him again, he uses his other hand to cradle her face. He can’t really see in the dark, but he can tell she’s all beaten and bruised, “are you sure—

“I’m fine, we need to go back in there, they have Spencer,” she worries, almost in tears. “It’s bad Aaron, the whole building is rigged to go, they have TNT and gas everywhere, in every hallway way, doorway, support beam… it’s going to go up like a fucking tinderbox.”

“Dereks got it,” he assures her. “They’ll be okay.” She doesn’t look like she believes him, so he pulls her in closer again and cradles her head. “It’s going to be okay.”

They hear a few shots then, followed by the chapel door flying open, Derek and Spencer come running out of the building, and Dave comes running out of the tunnel exit with Dan just as the building goes up in flames.

“Jesse,” Y/N whispers, shocked.

They rush to the building, running up the few concrete steps toward where Derek and Spencer were knocked down by the blast. Aaron picks up Derek, Y/N picks up Spencer and as a team, they retreat away from the fire. At a safe distance, they all stop, turn to the blaze and realize they made it. All of them.

Y/N pulls Spencer into her arms, breaking out in a sob, she crumbles. Her knees give way and Spencer does his best to keep her upright, Aaron steps in and supports her, and Derek too. “We did it,” Spencer whispers, “we’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” she repeats, absolutely exhausted from everything she’s been through.

“We need a medic!” Aaron calls, “Someone, please, get a stretcher over here!”

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” she tries to push them away, standing on her own two feet again but she’s wobbly.

“No, you’re not,” Aaron argues with her. “You got beat up, I heard it all. You’re not okay, I don’t care how strong you think you are you’re—

She reaches out and covers his mouth, “Stop yelling at me, my head is killing me.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wrapping his arm under her to support her, he helps her down the stairs just as the ambulance is pulling up to the church.

—

It doesn’t take long for both Y/N and Reid to get checked out by the paramedics. Spencer has some general ringing in his ear from being so close to a blast, and Y/N has a concussion and severe abdominal bruising. They don’t suspect any internal bleeding, but they advise her to have someone watch her all night and to go to the hospital if she feels sick or light-headed.

Derek offers to drive himself, Reid, Rossi and Y/N back to the hotel, JJ and Hotch just have to finish up a few things and then they’ll join, but she turns down Derek's request. “I’m going to stay with Aaron and JJ,” she whispers, not really wanting to talk unless she has to. “You guys head out, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer gives her his puppy dog eyes.

She nods, giving him a sweet smile, “Yeah, I don’t think I can handle Derek's driving right now.”

“Fair enough,” Rossi pats her shoulder, heading off after Derek.

“Okay,” Spencer understands the real reason why she isn’t going, he looks at her and then at Aaron. He’s not dumb. Far from it, actually. Of course, he knows there’s something going on between them… Aaron just wonders what it is on her side.

“Spence,” she stops him, pulls him in for another hug and holds him there. She whispers something in his ear, something Aaron can’t hear, but by the look on Spencer’s face, it’s sweet. When she pulls back, she speaks louder. “You come get me if you need anything, I mean anything… okay?”

“I will, thank you,” he smiles before turning away and heading off to the SUV.

She comes to sit beside Aaron after that, he’s filing out some paperwork about the supplies they used and Dan’s signing off on everything, too. JJ’s wrapping up from things on the phone with the state, and firefighters are now on the scene putting out the blaze… it’s a commotion, but he doesn’t care about anything other than Y/N.

He reaches out for her hand, under the table, he holds it and looks at her. Asking if she’s okay with just his eyes.

She nods, “I’m tired.”

“I can do the rest of this,” Dan offers.

“Yeah?”

He nods, “Yeah, you guys go get some rest, you’ve done more than enough for us.”

“Okay,” Aaron doesn’t fight it, he simply lets go of her hand and starts to stand up, helping her up too. “Come on, let’s get you out of here… JJ?”

She’s still on the phone but peaks her head over, asking what’s up with her facial expression.

“We’re heading out, come on.”

She holds up her finger, asking for just a second, which is good. It gives him a chance to pack up his things and help Y/N into the passenger seat of their SUV. JJ comes rushing over not 2 minutes later, the phone still pressed to her ear, she gets in the back seat and all they hear is “Thank you so much, half our team should be there in a few minutes, we’re about 30 minutes out… thank you, again, bye.”

“Good to go?” Aaron asks.

“Yeah, and I got us all hotels for tonight Rossi is alone, Derek is with Reid and I will partner with Hotch tonight so Y/N can be alone and—

She cuts JJ off. “I don’t want to be alone,” she says in a low tone. It hurts to talk. “Not with my concussion.”

“Oh,” JJ didn’t expect that. “Um, I guess we can be together, Hotch can be alone?”

She shakes her head, “No, mama you go be alone for the night, I’m sure you’re exhausted. You’ve done so much these last two days, Hotch can babysit me, make sure I don’t die in my sleep.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he looks over at her, completely serious. “You’re okay, the paramedics said it’s not too serious, you’re going to be fine.”

“I was kidding,” she gives him a sweet smile.

It doesn’t take long for them to get to the hotel, they check in, they’re handed their room keys and off they go. The double rooms are on the same floor, they’re just across the hall from Derek and Spencer, JJ’s a floor above them and Rossi is on the top floor. He really doesn’t care how much money he spends, he always wants the best rooms.

He carries both their bags upstairs. He had someone go to her other hotel, the one she and Reid were sharing when they arrived, and get her things. He sets them all down on one of the beds and she just stands there, sore and tired. She looks like she wants to cry again. She’s bruising slowly, everything’s getting worse and darker in colour the more time passes.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, “Yeah… I just hurt all over.”

“I don’t want this to come off as weird, or anything,” he prefaces. “But do you need or want help changing? Do you want to take a bath? I can help you get in or out— I won’t look, I promise. I just want you to feel better.”

She laughs lightly, but it hurts to do that. “I don’t think I need help… but thank you.”

“You took such great care of me last month, I just want to repay the favour,” he gives her a small smile.

She takes a step towards him and wraps her arms around his middle, resting her head on his chest. He carefully holds her back, his cheek resting against her head. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“You need a lot more than a bomb to get rid of me,” she teases. He said the same thing in the hospital in New York.

He smiles, dragging his cheek across her hair until his lips are pressed to her head. He kisses her gently, “Come on, let’s get you ready for bed.”

She sighs as she pulls back, “Would it be weird to share a bed tonight? I really don’t want to be alone.”

“Not weird at all,” he assures her.

“Good,” she smiles.

He brings her over to the one bed that their bags are on, they each zip open their own bag and start digging for their things. She takes out her pyjama shirt and her shorts, her little bag of toiletries and her phone charger and then she remembers she doesn’t have a phone anymore. “I can’t believe that fucker blew up all my stuff.”

“We’ll get you a new phone when we get back tomorrow,” Aaron assures her. “Penelope knows to call me if anyone calls work looking for you.”

“Okay, good… I’m going to change in the bathroom first, I’ll call you if I need help?”

“Okay,” he agrees.

He takes the chance to change in the room, he slips out of his khakis and dress shirt and quickly replaces them with a new pair of boxers and a fresh white shirt. It's what he slept in beside her before… that was the best sleep he’s had in years. Even beside his ex-wife he never slept that good.

He heads over to the empty queen bed that their shit isn’t on and folds back the covers for them. He fluffs the pillows and even sets a complimentary bottle of water on each of their night tables, that’s when he remembers he still has medicine in his bag. She emerges from the bathroom soon after, all changed with a soft smile on her face. “Tada?”

“You look nice,” he compliments her. “I uh, I still have some medicine— the T3s…”

“Ooo,” she thinks about it. “I was just going to tough it out but that sounds like a much better option.”

“I just don’t like the idea of you hurting all night long, you’re supposed to be resting,” he reminds her, handing her the pill bottle once she’s closer to him. “There’s water on your side.”

She takes two of them, sets her water down and starts to get into the bed, Aaron stands at her side, watching as she hisses. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “Getting punched and kicked in the gut sucked, I’m surprised I don’t have internal bleeding.”

His heart breaks even more, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she waves it off. “Come get in bed.”

Before he does that, he flicks on the lamp on his side of the bed and heads back over to the door to turn off the main light. When he finally slips into bed, she reaches over for his hand and pulls him over so he can spoon her. She just wants to be held. He gently places his hand on her stomach, he doesn’t want to hurt her at all. She lets out a deep sigh, relaxing into his arms and waiting for the pills to kick in.

“I’m really glad they put you in charge of everything,” she whispers. “The second Rossi showed up in the church I knew we were going to be leaving okay.”

“You should’ve heard Morgan scream for me when the situation popped onto the news in the bullpen,” he recounts, still astounded by it himself. “I was just thinking about you when he called for me and then all the phones started going off and I knew we’d be the ones doing the rescuing.”

“You were thinking about me?” She repeats. “What were you thinking about me for?”

“Oh…” he feels suddenly embarrassed. “Just that it was weird not having breakfast together and I was thinking if you didn't drive to the airport, I would’ve driven you home.”

“Awe,” she swoons, she places her hand over his and interlocks their fingers. “We can get lunch together tomorrow after we land… before you take me back to the airport to get my car.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he whispers. “But we’ll have to take it to go…”

“Why?”

“I don't want anyone to think I did that to you,” he explains, a sick feeling in his throat at the mere thought of someone thinking he could hurt her.

“Oh, oh yeah,” she forgot. “Sorry, I’m starting to feel the medicine… if I fall asleep on you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, go to sleep if you have to,” he assures her. “I’ll be right here all night if you need me.”

“Thank you, Aar,” she mumbles out, already slipping into her slumber. “Love… you.”

His heart skips a beat, he wants to say it back but he doesn’t know how much of that is just the medicine and him taking care of her and how much of it she really, truly means. He doesn’t want to risk it, so he just snuggles in closer, kisses the back of her shoulder and attempts to fall asleep with her.

General Taglist

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86 @buckleyhans

IKP

@southernraven @alluringshawn @lambsheepsheeping @lmg-stilinski24 @louderfortheback @deludedfruitcake @kleff03 @mrs-ssa-hotch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @lokifanfic2021 @art-and-thoughts

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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totowlff · 6 months

Text

chapter seventeen — i'm not entirely to blame

➝ it's so easy to lie to yourself...

➝ word count: 3,5k

➝ warnings: mentions of smut

Toto lived in an extremely quiet, charming neighborhood just outside of Oxford, in a little hamlet called Boars Hill. His house was set on two acres of land that was mostly surrounded by trees, with a spacious and well-maintained back garden. Since the first time Cassie had visited his house, when Ingrid was still just an idea in their heads, she had a good feeling about it. She could even see herself walking down the narrow country roads pushing Ingrid in her pram, or watching Ingrid romp around the back garden as she and Toto sat watching her in chairs on the patio, just like a real family.

“No, Cassie, we’re not a real family”, she scolded herself as she made a left turn onto Bedwells Heath, looking carefully through the trees for Toto’s drive. She’d missed it once or twice before.

It wasn’t that they weren’t already a family of sorts; they’d come together to have a child, which meant they would be linked together in something resembling a familial unit, just not in the traditional sense. They were just friends, who were going to be parents together, but without the affection couples normally had for each other.

Except, though, sometimes their feelings for each other, at least for Cassie’s part, felt bigger than she would be willing to admit.

Plus, there was the sex…

The memory of Thursday night sent a rush of heat running over Cassie's skin. After bringing her to climax twice and giving her a few minutes to catch her breath, she felt the same heat as before. Just as she was going to remark on the sensation, she was interrupted by Toto as he kissed her again, his hands holding her tightly before sliding to the spot between her legs and making her come a third time.

However, when Cassie made a move to return the favor, Toto stopped her.

— Tonight is about you, Cassie. Just about you.

As she parked her car in front of Toto’s house, she clenched her jaw as she remembered the way he had cleaned her up and put her to bed, kissing her gently on the forehead before he left her flat, ignoring her pleas for him to stay. Seeing him leave hurt more than it should have, but there was nothing that could be done.

Toto would never be hers completely.

As she stepped out of the car, she looked up at the front of the house, admiring the traditional-yet-modern exterior, especially the way the front of the house looked like a circular tower, with a large panoramic window on the top floor. A vision popped into her mind — she and Toto sitting on the sofa together, his arm around her shoulders, her snuggled into Toto’s side. No work to do, no races on the other side of the world to get off to, just the two of them enjoying each other’s company, watching their daughter play with dolls or blocks on the colorful area rug as a summer rainstorm rolled through the meadows surrounding Boars Hill.

A perfect, quiet afternoon.

She shook her head as she pressed the button for the doorbell, chiding herself for letting her imagination get carried away again. A few seconds later, it opened, revealing the smiling face of the house’s owner.

— You know you don't need to ring the doorbell, right? — Toto said, smiling. He was wearing a chambray button-down and a pair of loose-fitting khaki trousers. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, exposing a plain white t-shirt underneath. To Cassie’s surprise, he was also wearing a pair of glasses with round, black frames. She wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him dressed quite so casually. Even when he had accompanied her to the clinic, he tended to wear a pressed Oxford shirt and some sort of dress trousers. She knew he occasionally wore glasses, but it was rare.

— I didn’t want to seem presumptuous — Cassie replied — Besides, I don't live here.

— Not yet. But you will.

— Temporarily.

— Yes, but I still hope you see it as home while you’re here — he replied, opening the door wider — Come in and make yourself comfortable, please.

With a small smile on her face, Cassie walked past him, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. Leaving her bag in the entrance hall, she waited for Toto to close the door to follow him through the house, stopping for a few seconds to look at the compass rose tiled into the floor of the entranceway. She had always found that detail of the house very charming.

— Are you hungry? I can make some tea before…

�� It’s fine. I ate before leaving home.

— Are you sure?

— I'm fine, really — she replied, trying to reassure him.

Toto let out a sigh.

— Well, if you don't need anything, could you come upstairs with me?

Cassie nodded, following Toto up the stairs to the second floor, where the nursery was. He had shown it to her in the first few weeks of her pregnancy. However, instead of turning right, towards the door of the nursery, he turned left, opening the door and asking her to step inside.

It was a large suite with a king-size bed facing a large window, which had an impressive view of the garden at the back of the house. There were also two armchairs next to a fireplace, as well as a large painting above it of an Alpine landscape, perhaps in Austria. Staring at the painting Cassie realized which room she was standing in.

— Why are we here in your bedroom?

— Because it will be yours. Well, while you're here.

She blinked.

— But… This is your bedroom, I couldn’t possibly…

— There are three other bedrooms I can sleep in. It’s no trouble.

— Toto, I can’t…

— Cassie, you need to be comfortable, especially after the birth. This room is big, has a very comfortable bed and a private bathroom en suite. Also, it’s the one that’s closest to the nursery.

— I don't need a big room. Any place will do, even the nursery. We can have the decorator put…

He shook his head.

— No, we’re not going to put your bed in the nursery.

— But if I stay in the nursery I’ll be close to…

— You won’t be able to get any rest if you stay in the nursery, Cassie. You won't sleep because you'll be keeping an eye on the baby. You know that being fatigued will not help you recover after the baby is born, and it will just make taking care of her more difficult.

Cassie clenched her jaw and looked away from him. He wasn't wrong. If she was with Ingrid constantly, she’d be on high-alert at all times, and wouldn’t ever be able to get any rest, even when she needed it. She would hate for something bad to happen to the baby because she was tired.

— Okay — she conceded — I'm not going to sleep in the nursery, you’re right. But, I'm not going to take you out of your bedroom. I can stay anywhere else, but not here.

Toto sighed.

— Okay, come with me.

The two went to another bedroom, a little smaller, but no less comfortable-looking. The minimalist, almost-generic decor gave the impression that it was just a guest room, not used very often; everything looked almost brand-new.

— The only problem with this room is that it doesn’t have a private bathroom, so you will have to use the one in the hallway. Otherwise, it’s just as nice as the master bedroom.

— It's great — she smiled, heading over to the bed and sitting on the mattress to try it out. Toto sat next to her, a small smile on his face.

— I'll ask Bertha to get everything ready for you to settle in next week.

— Next week? — Cassie said, her eyes going wide.

— Yes, so you have time to get comfortable and…

— Toto, I was going to move in after I’m discharged from the hospital with the baby, I couldn’t possibly…

— But there are so many things for us to do before the baby arrives — Toto exclaimed — We have to tidy up the nursery once it’s ready, buy more clothes, get the car seat, get all of the baby’s things organized, pack your bags for the hospital, you still have doctor’s appointments, we have to go to visit the maternity ward…

— I don't need to move here for that.

— And how are Bertha and I going to help you organize things if you’re not here?

Cassie raised an eyebrow.

— With your hands?

Toto gave a sarcastic laugh.

— Very funny.

She laughed.

— I know.

— The point is that, with you here, it will be easier to make decisions about things, especially regarding organization and routine in the first few days. Furthermore, I —Toto hesitated for a few seconds.

— You… What?

— I wanted to enjoy this time with you. You know, the…Nesting period, I think they call it. Plus, doing things for Ingrid without you is strange. Every time I buy things for the baby, the salespeople ask where my wife is, so I lie and say that it is for a friend’s daughter, because if I tell them it is for my daughter, they will want to know more about her, and I don’t want them to get the wrong idea and that they will think trying to have a family this way is strange, and…

Cassie sighed in frustration, taking Toto’s hand in hers.

— We're not doing anything wrong, Toto. We are only doing what we want, which is having a family. Just because we’re not doing it in the most traditional manner doesn’t mean we’ll be any less of a family. Trust me, a traditional family isn’t always a happy one. I am speaking from experience, so trust me on that.

He looked at her, a small smile on his face.

— But we can do things better, Cassie.

Something inside her jumped, her heart pounding in her chest.

— Better?

— Yes. Move in with me.

— Toto…

— I'll feel a lot better if you're here, and Bertha can help keep an eye on you when I'm traveling.

— Toto, I'm not a child who needs to be supervised.

— But you have a child inside you. And she needs to be supervised.

— Yes, by me.

— And by Bertha — he said, giving one of those mischievous smiles that made her heart race. Seeing Cassie rolling her eyes, he added — And there's no point in making that face, Cassandra.

— You sound like I'm incapable of taking care of myself...

— I’m only saying this because I am concerned about the well-being of the woman who — he paused for a few seconds, as if he was evaluating the words he was going to use before continuing — Is pregnant with my daughter. That's all, Cassie.

Cassie was about to answer him when the doorbell rang downstairs. Toto stood up, saying that he was going to meet the decorator and she should wait for them in the nursery. Walking down the hallway with one hand resting on her stomach, she tried to shake off the anxiety that was building up by breathing deeply.

When she stepped into the nursery, she was a little surprised by the amount of things in the room already. In addition to the stroller, baby carrier, and the package of things from Mercedes-Benz that Ola had sent them after Toto had told him he was going to be a father, there were bags of baby clothes, and several boxes printed with the logo of a well-known toy shop in London. She had pulled a onesie out of a bag to look at, running her fingers over the screen printed lettering that read “future CEO” on it when she heard footsteps behind her.

— Well, this is the room — Toto said to the woman next to him. She was quite a bit shorter than him, with dark hair, styled into a pixie cut. She had glasses with dark-rimmed frames, and was holding a briefcase in one hand and a tablet in another. — And this is... Cassandra.

She dropped her clothes and went to the designer, smiling.

— Nice to meet you, Cassandra — she said, extending her hand to shake — I'm Taylor.

— Likewise, Taylor. You can call me Cassie, by the way.

— As you wish, Cassie — the woman replied, smiling — Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to just ask a few questions so I can get to know both of you. For starters, how long have you been married?

Toto’s eyes went straight to the floor, and Cassie noticed it. He was definitely uncomfortable with that question. And that was what made Cassie smile at the woman.

— A few months. We decided to make it official after we discovered the little one was on its way.

The response made Toto look up suddenly, looking somewhat shocked at what she had said. However, if Taylor had noticed that reaction, she didn't notice it.

— Oh, that's great. And have you lived here for a long time?

— I moved here in 2012 — he answered. His entire demeanor had changed since her arrival. If he was cheery before, now he seemed distant and distracted — I did some renovations, but nothing major or thinking about a function for this specific room.

Taylor walked around the room a bit, taking photos with her phone, analyzing the walls and the window for a few seconds. Placing her bag on the floor, she took the tablet and its stylus out of its case. After a few taps, she began to scribble something on the device's screen, a thoughtful expression on her face.

— Is the baby a boy or a girl?

— Girl — Cassie replied.

— Do you have anything in mind regarding decoration or colors?

— No pink — Cassie replied, definitively — No unicorns and rainbows.

The woman smiled slightly, writing something down on the tablet. Then, she began to explain the ideas, as well as the trends that could be incorporated into the room and that would make their routine with the baby easier. She also discussed some of the pictures of cribs, closets and changing tables that Toto had sent her. Finally, she asked if they had a theme in mind or if they were thinking about something neutral.

— Well, I do — Cassie said, making Toto look at him — When we decided to become parents, the first thing Toto did was buy a plush bunny, and I don’t know why, but… It has stuck with me. I think that would be cute.

— Do you agree, Toto?

— Yes. Maybe something with rabbits — he mumbled, crossing his arms.

After asking a few more questions, taking measurements and making a joke about how much stuff they already had for the baby considering that Cassie wasn't even halfway through her pregnancy, Taylor said goodbye to them, stating that she would send new drawings with her ideas to the nursery by email to Toto. Then, politely, he motioned for the woman to follow him back to the house’s hall of entrance.

Alone in the nursery again, Cassie took time to stare at the white walls. She caressed her belly slowly, imagining herself in a comfortable rocking chair, breastfeeding her daughter. She imagined showing her the pictures of rabbits on the wall, the lamp on the ceiling, the cozy crib. She imagined herself changing her clothes and diapers, while talking and making faces at her, making her daughter giggle.

The room would be perfect.

The footsteps that sounded behind her made her look back, a small smile on her face. Toto had returned to his room in silence, with his eyes lost on the walls and his hands in his pants pocket.

— What did you think of her ideas? — Cassie asked, approaching him.

— Good — he replied, his voice flat.

— I liked the idea of indirect lighting that she suggested, to bring a more cozy atmosphere to the room, but I'm still in doubt about the style of the decoration, whether something more classical or something more modern is better — she continued, walking around the room — But her idea of using niches here to decorate is fantastic, isn't it?

Toto nodded, his gaze directed at the swaying treetops outside the window. It was the confirmation she needed to realize that he was strange, distant, even a little cold. And he had been that way ever since Taylor suggested the two of them were in a relationship.

She stepped toward Toto carefully.

— Toto? — Cassie asked softly, his eyes meeting hers — Look, if you're feeling bad about what I said, I just thought it was easier to lie than to try and explain our situation, I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable...

— Cassie, it’s not that, it’s just — he said, interrupting her abruptly — I’m just frustrated. Fuck.

— Why? — she asked, softly.

He ran a hand across his forehead, clearly uncomfortable.

— Because, even with all my work, all my effort, everything I said, not just to you, but to the lawyer and to myself, I failed.

— Failed? What do you mean?

— I failed to uphold our agreement by getting involved with you.

She swallowed hard, watching as Toto ran a hand through his hair, looking like he was about to come unglued. He was feeling guilty, but it was all Cassie’s fault. It was her fault that she hadn't been able to simply ignore her own horniness.

And it was consuming her.

— I know I shouldn’t have asked you that on Thursday...

— But you did — Toto grunted, looking a little irritated. His reaction made Cassie look down, feeling embarrassed. “I deserved that”, she thought.

— Toto…

— But the problem isn't you — he said, making her raise her head quickly, meeting his eyes — The problem here is me.

— But…

— You are in a vulnerable moment, feeling the effect of hormones, and all of that. It's not your fault for feeling urges and desires. But I'm to blame for not respecting the boundaries we set in the conversation with the lawyer. I should have said no to you, Cassie.

— And why didn't you? — she asked softly.

Toto stared at her silently, as if he was measuring his words. With every second, the tension inside Cassie grew.

— You said you needed my help. And I promised to help you. I was simply keeping my word — he finally replied.

— Then why are you so upset?

— Cassandra…

— After all, you were just keeping your word, simple as that.

— It's not that simple, Cassandra! — Toto exclaimed. She didn't know the reason, but her heart started to beat harder, her palms sweating. Hearing a man raise her voice, even as innocuous as the situation was, reminded her of her father, as well as the loud fights and arguments they had.

— And why not? — she managed to ask, her throat tightening.

— Because we made a legal agreement, stating that we would not have any romantic involvement.

— You know that's just a piece of paper, right? I'm not going to sue you for having sex with me.

— That’s not the point. We made a commitment, Cassandra, I had committed to giving you support and support to bear and raise our daughter. Of course, we started the wrong way, but I had already got it into my head that it was necessary, after all, to have a child, you have to have sex...

— Actually, there are other ways…

— For two fertile and healthy adults, having sex is the first option. But that's not the point, Cassie. My point is that, after doing what is necessary, it was my intention that things returned to what we had agreed upon.

He hesitated, running his hand over his face again. After a sigh, Toto continued.

— I like you, Cassie. You are an incredible, courageous, intelligent woman… I would never have a child with you if I didn't like you, but we went too far.

Cassie clenched her jaw. She couldn't say anything, the pain in her chest growing by the second.

— I think it’s better for us to… Put a limit on this.

— A limit… — she stammered.

— Yes, we need to re-establish our boundaries here. I will continue to support you, taking care of you. That won't change. The idea of you moving here still stands, everything remains the same. But, no intimacy. No kissing, no sex.

The thought of never kissing Toto again made Cassie's chest hurt, as did the thought of never feeling him touching her in a tender, sensual way again. To think that she would never again see him the way she had in those two nights was almost suffocating. Cassie had no idea how she would be able to move on knowing she would never have him again.

She felt like arguing, telling him that she was incapable of doing that because she was completely in love with him and was willing to tear up any paper and face anything to have him for herself. Maybe this was the time to say the three words she most wanted to say to him.

Yes, that was the time.

— Toto…

— Are you okay with that? Can we go back to just being friends?

“No, Cassandra”, she told herself.

— Yes, we can.

#toto wolff #wlffog #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #toto wolff angst #toto wolff fanfic #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #f1 x oc #toto wolff x oc #formula 1 x oc #formula one x oc #etlwlff

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big-ass-magnet · 4 months

Text

Relatively Speaking, This Will Probably Be Fine (Ch 2)

Fandom: Girl Genius Rating: T Summary: Barry has left Agatha in the care of his mother, Teodora. As far as anyone knows, she is the daughter of a family friend and Teodora's ward, keeping her company while her sons are missing and her husband's illness keeps him on death's doorstep. It is up to Lady Teodora to ensure that no one questions this story.

A prequel to 'Helpful, in a Heterodyne Sort of Way'!

AO3 link

The important thing, Teodora knew, was to get ahead of any rumors before they could start. Even the possibility of a new Heterodyne would bring the eyes of Europa onto them.

So the day after Barry left, Teodora took Agatha Sannikova with her to the market.

Teodora had made a point not to let her sons’ disappearance or her husband’s illness interrupt her schedule, even after all this time. She hoped it brought a sense of normalcy to the people of Mechanicsburg in a time of such uncertainty. The Heterodynes are out of reach, the Jägers are gone, an outsider rules the town, but it is Wednesday and Lady Teodora is going to the market.

Sometimes she worried it was instead a reminder of a family dead in all but name, the last survivor and the only one they didn’t need.

The moment she set foot outside, she knew she had been right to move quickly. All eyes fixed on the little girl at her side. She saw people drifting together in twos and threes, whispering to each other, a hopeful hunger in their expressions.

“Now, you stay close, Agatha,” Teodora said as they approached the market stalls.

“Yes, Ms Teodora,” Agatha said obediently. Teodora saw that reach the people’s ears, souring hope with the first touch of uncertainty. She prayed this would work. Oh, why couldn't Barry have taken the girl to Punch and Judy? But she had not been able to find the strength to insist. Now that she knew Agatha existed, Teodora wanted her close.

“We’re going to go straight to the grocer’s first, but on our way back, I want you to look around at the stores and pick out two new things for your room. You'll be living with me from now on, and I want the house to feel like a home to you.”

Agatha gave her a strange sort of smile—the indulgent kind an adult might give a child who was being unrealistic.

“Okay.”

And sure enough, on the way home, the things Agatha considered were all small trinkets, things that could be easily tucked into a bag or a pocket. Barry had been right—the lack of stability had begun to take its toll.

“How about one of those paintings?” Teodora suggested. “Maybe that one, with the clank in the forest? Your uncle said you like clanks.”

“It is pretty,” Agatha said, softly, longingly. But then she shook her head. “Too big.”

“They’ll bring it to the house if you don’t want to carry it.”

Again that indulgent smile.

“To fit in my bag, Ms Teodora. And too expensive to leave behind.”

“You don’t have to put it in a bag—”

But Agatha’s eyes went wide.

“Look at that!”

She obediently did not release Teodora’s hand, but instead dragged her all the way across the road to a little cart of novelty clocks. All eyes were on Agatha now, and Teodora’s heart began to beat faster. If this didn’t work—if Agatha didn’t—if the people didn’t care about the—

The clockmaker had been keeping his hands busy, and showing off his skill, by assembling a clock right at the stall. Agatha stood on tiptoes to see all the pieces and tools, her eyes shining.

“Wow!”

“You like it?” he asked, pleased. He lifted the half-finished clock and turned the back to Agatha so she could see the mechanism. “Go on, push that button there.”

“But it’s not done yet,” Agatha said. “I can see the pieces that are missing.”

The clockmaker’s eyes lit up, and a wave of nausea rolled over Teodora.

“Can you now?” he said, smiling. “Well it can still run, even without all the parts.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Just can’t keep time very well.”

Warily, eyeing the clockmaker as if he might be pulling some trick, Agatha reached out and pushed the button. A tiny counterweight dropped, and cogs began to turn. Agatha watched, eyes alight, fixing her attention on each part of the mechanism one at a time, fascinated by their intricate movements.

“It sounds so much prettier than a pocket watch,” she said.

“That’ll be the pendulum. You can’t put one in a watch, ‘cause it only works properly when it’s stable. As soon as you move it around, physics kicks in and plays hob on the tempo.”

“What if you built it so the pendulum ignored the physics?”

The clockmaker smiled, folded his hands on the table before him, and leaned forward. His manner was casual, but he was eager, and all around Teodora could feel the Mechanicsburg crowd begin to form around them. Moths to the Heterodyne flame.

“And how do you suggest I do that?”

Agatha gnawed on her lip, eyes flicking over the clockwork.

“Something gyroscopic—no, but that would only be good for keeping it still. Maybe some sort of counterweight! Something that could—”

Suddenly she let out a cry of pain and grabbed her head.

“Ow! Ow, ow ow—”

Teodora wrapped her arm around Agatha’s shoulders as the clockmaker sat back, alarmed.

“I didn’t—”

“It’s alright,” Teodora reassured him. “She gets these headaches sometimes, when she gets...overwhelmed.”

And that did it. The light left his eyes. All around them, Mechanicsburg turned away. The whispers faded, the rumors stillborn. Whoever this mysterious girl was, she wasn’t the mystery they wanted. Whoever heard of a Heterodyne who got headaches when she thought too hard—and over something as simple as clockwork?

“Ah. Poor thing.”

Teodora felt relieved.

And she felt like a monster.

“Come along, dear,” she said, soothingly, leading Agatha away. “Let’s get you home and you can lie down.”

“It hurts,” Agatha sobbed.

“It’ll be alright,” Teodora said, every word burning like hellfire in her mouth. “You just need to be sure to take it slow, next time.”

#girl genius #grandfather saturnus au #agatha heterodyne #teodora vodenicharova #audrey talks

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ghostofskywalker · 3 months

Note

Please put Fives in a low-stakes situation that resolves well. Trying to cook for the first time, or babysitting, or getting lost in an unfamiliar city, that kind of thing. He had such an unhappy death, I wanna read about him having a happy life

this was such a lovely idea, thank you! he really does deserve more than he got in canon, and i hope you enjoy this :)

words: 711

summary: while on leave, fives and echo do some youngling-sitting for the jedi order.

ao3 link

He didn’t know whose bright idea this was.

When the general had asked if him and Echo would be willing to help the Jedi out with a favor while the 501st was on leave, Fives would have bet all his credits that it was combat training, storage room reorganization, or some other kind of physically intense grunt work. He certainly didn’t expect to be put in charge of watching 10-15 Jedi younglings. Wait, maybe they weren’t younglings - were they padawans? Or was there another title between the aforementioned two stages of Jedi Knighthood?

He didn’t know; half of them were probably older than he was anyway.

Echo was already no help, having found a small group of younglings who had basically imprinted on him, and they were off in the corner doodling together.

Meanwhile, Fives’ group was made up of the more excitable younglings. He had been trained for the most intense combat situations that GAR could think of, with the primary teachers he worked with on Kamino being ruthless bounty hunters and practically superhuman Jedi, but yet after one game of tag, his only thought was how badly he wanted to lay down and take a week long nap.

“Come on!” one of the kids said to him, grabbing his arm with what felt like a durasteel grip and not letting go. “We’re going to build a fort!”

Okay, this was something that he could get interested in. Maybe it would involve less running around, and maybe he could sit down and zone out for a few moments. He almost wished he was back on the front lines of the war, because at least those situations he knew how to deal with.

One of the kids sneezed, and mere moments later a chorus of “EWWWWWW” sounded from all over the room. Even Echo joined in on that one, and Fives just stared at his twin. What? Echo mouthed from across the room.

Fives just playfully rolled his eyes, but secretly he couldn’t help but feel some of the infectious joy that being around these kids brought bubbling up in his stomach. So much of his life had been spent in the clutches of danger, but right now the only thing he was worried about was getting told off by Master Yoda for letting the younglings do something they shouldn’t. When the war was over, he decided, he wanted to do something like this more often. Maybe the Jedi would keep letting him come around, and he could spend some of his afternoons getting worn out by the newest younglings and laughing with a joy he never thought was sustainable.

A loud THUNK interrupted his inner thoughts, and his head turned to see a large box fall to the floor from its place on a high shelf, training remotes clattering across the floor as their container made contact. There was one particularly proud looking child staring up at the other boxes on the shelf before raising his hands up again, and Fives knew what was happening in this moment. He had seen General Skywalker stand in the exact same pose, sometimes before using the Force to send the Captain and the Commander flying through the air.

He tensed as he regarded the training remotes - were those dangerous? He knew that more than half the things they had trained with in Kamino were dangerous if used improperly, these had to be a similar situation.

However, none of the younglings paid any mind to the equipment scattered across the floor, even pushing it aside to bring the box into a more central location. Other large containers followed, this time filled with blankets, pillows, and spare robes and Fives just sat back and watched as the tiny Jedi worked together to create an (incredibly impressive, if he did say so himself) structure they could hang out and hide away in. As the noise level in the room evened out, he finally got a chance to sit back and just watch as things took shape.

Maybe the Jedi would be annoyed about how much cleanup they would have to do when all this was said and done, but in this moment, he didn’t really care.

They had the Force to help them move stuff anyway.

- the end -

#ghostofskywalker.request #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #fives & echo

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sirowsky-stories · 8 months

Text

The Old Prince

Part 9

Author's Note: New Header! Because, oh yes, we're getting some major plot-twists! Can you tell I'm excited?

Description: You and Oberyn make a shocking discovery, which then leads to further complications, and not just for yourselves.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses. Major TW for descriptions of small child being murdered. Word Count: 7500 Author's Masterlist

His home is calling. That is where he feels he must go to find the answers, even though you have no connection to Egypt beyond your association to him. But you were correct when you said it was his bite which ignited all this, changing you, or perhaps triggering something dormant from your innermost being. But whether it had always been there or was somehow put there by the dragon, there is no denying the fact that had you never crossed paths with Oberyn, you would likely have remained ordinary.

You’re still not awake when he carefully lands in the desert, far enough from any cities or settlements that no human eyes can track his descent, and he ensures that no people are crossing the barren landscape before he settles on a location. The ground is covered in crystalized salt, a remnant of the past when there was still a body of water here, although that was before even his time. But these views still bring back memories of his childhood, which is one of the reasons why he has rarely ever been back here.

Now though, he needs those memories. He must learn what is happening to the two of you, because he is convinced that your fates are linked in some manner, and although he does not yet have so much as a hypothesis, it feels as though the answer is knowable. He merely needs to find the right clues. But before he’s had a chance to do anything, you finally stir within his paws, so he pulls you away from his chest to see if you have awakened.

The bright afternoon sun is piercing to your eyes, which have been closed for several hours by now, so he quickly shifts you back underneath his shadow again, while you climb out of his hands and step onto the age-old sands.

“Wh-what happened? Where are we?” you ask, sounding disoriented by more than the unfamiliar surroundings, as though the light within you has altered some fundamental aspect of your sense of self, which is far more believable than it might sound.

But he cannot answer you in his dragon form, so he steps back to transform, careful not to accidentally swipe at you as his much larger form is retracted and folded away within him.

“Not far from where I was born,” he replies as soon as his mouth is functional again, while attempting to rearrange the weapons he had brought.

It had seemed prudent at the time to offer you something with which to defend yourself once the creatures had been located, even though he knew you would likely not be able to harm them. However, he has found that humans often find comfort merely in having the means of defending themselves, regardless of the chances for success. And given your quite obvious association with the dragon, it wouldn’t have hurt you to have the possibility of safeguarding yourself against potential aggression from humans either. Unfortunately, this reasoning had slipped his mind once the hunt had begun, so the weapons are now mostly an inconvenience.

“We’re in Egypt?” you question, clearly somewhat confused since your last memories before passing out were of the northern Californian coast.

“Yes. Something happened with the spirits and I… felt compelled to seek some answers.”

“What do you mean? What happened?” you ask, and you sound frightened now.

He gives up on the weapons, letting them drop to the ground for now, so that he can put his arms around your waist and hold you while he explains. Because he feels certain you will appreciate the support once you’ve heard what he has to say.

“When you hit the water, Octopus was there, ready to drag you down and end you, and I couldn’t get to you in time. I dove and swam after you, but she’s much faster than I am under water. I never would’ve caught up to you. She took you so deep so quickly that I thought your brain would surely have imploded by the time I reached you. But instead, you saved yourself.”

You look utterly baffled hearing this, and he does not blame you. For a few seconds, you merely stand idle in his embrace, thinking hard by the looks of it.

“But I was unconscious…” you try to reason, closing your eyes for a moment as your equilibrium falters and you sway slightly where you stand.

The healing has weakened you and he has no food to offer you this time, so he can only hope that time will help you regain at least some strength.

“You were, and I wonder if that’s why it happened. If you have some manner of built in defense whenever you’re unable to fight for your life. Consider that you were also unconscious after I bit you, only to wake up completely healed just hours later, without any loss of energy, unlike the time that Lupus first attacked you. Although, on that occasion, not much of you escaped unharmed,” he recalls, which seems to remind you that the bat and butterfly had very nearly carved your kidneys out midflight a while ago.

He lets go of you when you begin to examine yourself. Your clothes are in tatters, but as you shift the torn fabrics around, you find no gashes or exposed ribs. Just the same smooth skin Oberyn had caressed so lovingly the night before.

“That’s right, you did it again,” he explains once you’ve stopped searching for damage, drawing your gaze back to him, except now with even more confusion in your brows, while he remains only impressed. “But this time, you also created a blinding light all by yourself, which scared Octopus away and allowed me to reach you.”

“What are talking about? What light? And from where?”

“I don’t know exactly, I had to close my eyes against it. Even in the darkness at the bottom of the sea, it was blinding.”

Unexpectedly, hearing this brings tears to your eyes. Oberyn would have thought hearing of such a powerful defense within yourself would bring you peace, as it has already proven effective against the spirits and might mean a chance for you to evade their murderous plans. But instead, you appear only to experience despair.

“Why do you cry, my lady? You are capable of defending yourself against The Decem. Does this not comfort you?” he asks, feeling increasingly confused now, himself.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, perhaps to keep your torn clothes from flapping in the wind, but more likely in attempt to hold your being together, your gaze drops to the ground and tension becomes visible in your shoulders.

“I don’t know… what I am anymore,” you start, and while he wants to object, he holds his tongue and waits for you to speak your mind, as this is clearly affecting you deeply. “I’m not human or dragon, but then you tell me I might be this terrible thing, ready to turn all the world into darkness and pain. And now you tell me I’m somehow full of a light so powerful that even the spirits can’t stand it?”

You look up again now, and your gaze has grown even sadder. He feels as though you must be lost, wandering the world much as he did after his own initial transformation, looking for meaning or at least some explanation. But as he has yet to find one for his own circumstance, even after six millennia, he has no answers to offer you.

“Great…” you shrug, “So, what am I supposed to do with that? I don’t even know how to use it, I still have no idea how I can heal myself, or if the creatures were somehow set loose because of me.”

“No, my love,” he finally interrupts, for this line of thinking must be stopped, lest you start digging your own grave with it. “The creatures are not your fault; of this I am certain.”

“How?”

“Simple: You are not a Darkling.”

This conclusion seems to annoy you, and he can see why. For weeks now you have had no answers as to what has happened to you, while Oberyn has presented you with several possibilities, each one scarier than the next. At this point, you must be so tired of theories and fed up with worrying about things that are still completely beyond your control. So, he must do what he can to help you understand where his sudden confidence on this matter comes from.

“I have told you before that I’ve been skeptical of this diagnosis from the start, because of the radical differences between you and the only dark one I’ve seen before. Well, this light you possess is proof that I was correct. A Darkling cannot bring light to the world, in any fashion. Once awakened, it is only capable of destruction.”

A glimmer of hope sparks within your features then, and Oberyn suddenly realizes how absent such a feeling has been from your frame, ever since you learned of the creatures’ escape. Surely, you cannot have taken on the blame for their mayhem solely on the notion that you could be a contributing factor, had you turned out to be the shadow-bringer.

“But if that’s true, why are the spirits still hunting me?” you ponder then, and he must think on it for a moment.

“Probably because they, like us, know of nothing else which can see them.”

“So, even if there’s clear evidence to the contrary, they’re gonna keep coming after me?”

“Most likely, yes,” he nods, and the hope once more falls away from your frame.

You sink to your knees on the ground, letting your hands come to rest against your thighs, and he does not like how defeated it makes you look. He’s always known your personality to be large. Not loud or brash, but the kind which fills a room simply by entering it. As if your soul is constantly attempting to eliminate emptiness. He wonders sometimes if it comes from your childhood and your feelings of abandonment.

“The Decem do not think as you or I do. They exist in the moment. We can’t hope to convince them of your innocence, which leaves us with only one other option, and this is why I have brought us here.”

“Alright,” you say, confirming that you are listening, even though your head remains tilted forward and your tone conveys only the mildest interest.

“I believe that my own history might hold the key to understanding what you are. Because it can’t be coincidence that our lives have intersected, I cannot believe that something so pivotal happened by accident.”

“Pivotal? To us or the world?”

“Both. To my knowledge, we are the only two humanoids on this earth with supernatural abilities, and not only have we settled down on the same continent, but we each have been drawn to and frequented the same area around the Seven Hills for years, until we eventually crossed paths. The odds against these chains of events, which began with my transformation right here, six thousand years ago, are astronomical, Valya.”

“Okay, sure. But how does any of that help us now?” you question, turning your head to look out at the desolate landscape, still not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t know that yet.”

“And how exactly do you imagine that we’re gonna find any answers out here?” you challenge, throwing an arm out to gesture to the glaringly obvious lack of clues. “There’s nothing left of that time, Oberyn. The odd clay pot or stone tablet, sure, but I highly doubt we’re gonna happen upon the perfect find to help you piece together your past. It doesn’t work that way.”

Something in the way you say the final sentence makes irritation flare within him. Because while he does understand why you would be struggling with the notion of your own identity right now, it completely escapes his understanding that you would so strongly resist any possibility of finding answers.

“Why are you so unwilling to believe in us?” he questions, and when you still show no sign of engaging with him, the malcontent grows within his chest. “Is it really so hard to fathom that there might be a reason we were brought together? That maybe it is our connection to each other which makes you capable of this incredible light, just as being with you has enabled me to see hope once more.”

“I don’t see hope…” you admit then, and his anger quickly cools, because this is not the answer he was expecting. “My life was never truly good, I know that. But it was enough. I never dreamed of adventures or bravery, of being the hero. I just wanted to live a simple life with my garden and my horse and maybe one day get to travel some. This… the magic and mysticism and saving the world crap… I don’t want any of it.”

Once you’ve fallen silent, you finally look up to meet his eyes, and he can see how deeply you believe in every word spoken. How you cannot be enthusiastic about any of this because none of what’s happened has been to your benefit. Except…

“Does this mean you don’t want me either?” he asks, tentative now that he suddenly cannot be certain the answer will be favorable to him.

But the words could just as well have been a kick to your jaw. You hunch at the sound of them, falling in on yourself as though your heart has just pulled your chest with it while it plummets through you. No words fall across your lips, merely the pained breath which is pushed out by the sudden contraction of your stomach, in revolt against the agony you suffer for his faulty assumption. Relieved, but also ridden with guilt over his mistake, he kneels beside you and pulls you close.

“Forgive me, my love. I know better than to say such things.”

You let him hold you for a moment before you reach up to reciprocate, but once your arms are around his shoulders, your grip is firm. A confirmation of your feelings, strong and true, even though your world outside of this relationship has come to an abrupt, and painful, end.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

He takes you on a slow stroll through the desert, hand in hand, while he searches for these answers which he seems unreasonably certain he’ll find here, despite being in the middle of fucking nowhere. You don’t share his attitude for one very clear reason: whatever he might find is unlikely to mean good news for you.

Since this whole thing started, aside from meeting Oberyn and falling in love with him, everything that’s happened has meant pain, loss and unwanted change for you, none of which you’re eager to continue experiencing. Yes, the likelihood of you being a Darkling has significantly decreased, but you’re still no closer to a happy ending because of it. You’re still under attack and you may yet have to give your life to see an end to this conflict. Which is absolutely the very worst-case scenario, given how the dragon would likely react to losing you.

You try not to think about that as he leads you further out onto the salt-flats, where the heat of the sun makes the plain ground look like liquid in the distance. But you’re still so caught up in your own thoughts that when he suddenly stops, it’s only his hand in yours which alerts you to the fact that he’s no longer moving. Turning back to find out what’s caught his attention, you find him staring at the ground right at his feet, where there’s nothing of interest to be seen.

“What is it?” you quietly ask, hoping you’re not interrupting him in the middle of rediscovering a lost memory.

“I know this spot. This exact spot,” he slowly responds, and you step closer so that you can see his expression even though his head is bowed.

You want to ask how he could possibly know where he even is when everything looks the same for miles and miles, but that won’t help anything.

“Why? What happened here?” you ask instead, worried now as his face has begun to reveal a truly haunted image.

“My nephew… this is where he was torn from his mother’s arms. This is where he was thrown to the ground, toyed with, and crushed under the feet of half a dozen tribesmen. Barely a week old…” he says, whispering the last part.

He didn’t remember this much before, and you’re afraid to disturb him now that he seems to be reliving those horrible moments, even though it clearly tortures him, so you remain silent and still beside him.

“My sister screamed, begging for his life, trying to fight her way to him, but they kicked him between themselves as if he was a football, keeping him out of her reach. His father and I ran to her and tried to intervene, but they stabbed him in the back, and when I attempted to fight in his stead, I was beaten with a club until my neck broke and I fell to the floor.”

He’s crying now, shaking all over as if he’s freezing cold despite the heat of the sun above, and you hate to see him like this. The usual might of his shoulders no longer there, the stoic frame of his chest and seasoned wisdom in the set of his brow nowhere to be seen. You want to help him, but what can you do? He came here because he wanted to understand his own past, and now this place seems to be giving him exactly what he wished for, so however much it hurts you to see it, you must let him suffer through this. But you don’t have to let him do it alone.

“I’m here, honey,” you whisper as you take his hands, so that even if he can’t hear you, he might still know you’re there. “I’m right here with you.”

He doesn’t see you even though his eyes are wide open, but the moment your hands slip into his, he grips you firmly, as if he fears he might disappear into the memory without an anker in the present. And for all you know, there’s every chance he really could.

“I’m lying face down on the floor, gasping for air, unable to move, but I can still hear them. The screams and the cries. And then just desperate wails as the child goes quiet. God. He survived their sadistic game for so long…” he continues, but his voice breaks in the end, and he droops to his knees.

You follow, crying as badly as he is at this unfathomable picture he’s painting for you, enabling you to experience it with him, so that you might have a chance to understand at least some of all this. But then he flinches. Not hard enough to rock his entire body, but enough for you to know that something shocking just happened within the memory.

“The light… it’s blinding… everywhere, all at once,” he breathes, while his gaze moves around, seeing something entirely other than the desert lands of your time. “It doesn’t burn at first, it just makes everyone stop and cover their eyes. But I can’t. I can’t move, not even to close my eyes, but I can see… through the light.”

His eyes move quickly over the desert, as if he’s searching for something, and then they stop. He stares at a fixed point behind you, over your right shoulder, and you wish you could see whatever it is that he does.

“What is it, honey? What did you see in the light?” you ask when he doesn’t continue.

You expect him to say that he saw the other dragon, the one who presumably died by giving Oberyn the fire, but he doesn’t answer you at all. His expression quickly shifts from despair into something more like awe, and for a second, you can swear you see some kind of figure reflected in the wetness of his eyes. But then he blinks, and it’s gone, before he closes his eyes and somehow you know that the memory is over and he’s back with you.

“Hey, look at me,” you beckon, when he lets go of your hands and brings his palms up to rub his face. “What just happened? What was that?”

You have to grab his wrists and pull his hands away from his face to get him to look at you, but again, his expression is not what you expect it to be. He doesn’t look haggard or pained by the experience he just had, instead he meets your worried gaze with what appears to be that same awe from before. And yet, he doesn’t answer you.

“Oberyn?” you try, and he does react to your voice this time, but by getting back on his feet and turning his back to you.

He takes a few steps forward, putting his hands on his hips and exhaling hard a few times, and somehow, you get the feeling that this isn’t relief. More like he’s preparing to tell you something difficult. You stand as well, starting to feel worried, and you’re just about to approach him when he sighs deeply.

“It wasn’t a dragon that did this to me,” he says, and he sounds torn between sorrow and joy. “There was no other dragon.”

“Then what was it? What changed you?”

Another deep breath passes through him before he turns around, and once he does, you feel like you already know the answer. As if your body can sense it from his before a single word has been spoken.

“It was Lux. The spirit of Day.”

The moment you hear that name, something passes through you. Not a feeling so much as a realization.

Recognition.

“Me…” you breathe, scarcely able to acknowledge the thought. “I… I did this to you.”

He nods slowly, but his features reveal nothing of what he feels in that moment.

“It was you, all this time,” he says, and there’s a softness to his voice which takes your mind to the solemnity of a church.

To heavy subjects and grave implications, mixed with deep respect and reverence. But you can’t possibly be the reason why he would feel these things.

“No, it can’t be. I remember my life, I’ve only lived for thirty odd years, how could I have been in ancient Egypt, it makes no sense!” you ramble, getting desperate now because this is too much to ingest.

“I told you that no one has ever seen Day, that not even the spirits know who she is, and this explains it.”

“No, it doesn’t! How does this explain anything?”

He comes closer to you, and without meaning it, you recoil. Fear grips you at the idea that all his long years of solitude, agony and despair, could be your fault, and your body reacts. Although, whether to protect him or yourself, you’re not sure. Noticing your fear and desperation, he stops, but worry seeps into his face then.

“Don’t you see, Valya? The Latin word for day is Lux, which also means light, and light is everywhere, just at different times. You exist in all things and all places, which means you’re never just one person in one moment.”

“If that were true, then why is the Night spirit a bat, and not capable of the same?”

“Because light undoes dark. Yes, night falls upon each day, but only because the Earth turns away from the sun. Not because light no longer exists. All dark places, no matter how deep the blackness, are unveiled by light, and therefor, you are the most powerful of all spirits. Yes, in your natural form you’re probably much the same as the others, beyond thoughts or reasoning, existing only in the moment and the feeling. But unlike them, you must be able to choose when you wish to be seen, and in which form, since light can be bent and manipulated into any shape.”

Logically, it all makes sense, and you have no reason to believe that this man who has lived longer than any other, wouldn’t know what he was talking about. In fact, he’s probably the only one who even remotely understands these things. But you still resist. Not for lack of memory of past events, but simply because you don’t want to be the one responsible for Oberyn’s pain. He’s everything to you. Your light and purpose, your friend and confidant, your fucking soulmate.

He tries to approach you again, and just like before you back away. You can’t help it, you’re too scared of unknowingly doing something damaging to him. But this time, your rebuke saddens him, and you recall his question earlier. “Does this mean you don’t want me either?” Just hearing it had turned your insides into a pit of knives, and the memory brings the feeling back.

“I may not know why you changed me, but now that I’m certain it was you, I can only believe you had some plan for me,” he says without a trace of accusation in his tone. “Something you sensed coming, important enough to create a being so strong it could burn down this whole world, should it be deemed unavoidable. I know you, my love. Spirit or not, you would never willfully condemn anyone to an eternity of loneliness. And whatever else you might be, this person you chose to be born into is also you, and the life you’ve lived as a human is equally responsible for the character you’ve become. None of that is undone by the past. You are still the woman I love, and you always will be.”

Enchanted by his words, you’ve remained still while he’s crept closer to you, and when he falls silent, he’s suddenly only inches away. Before you can recover, he steals a long and loving kiss, using the intimacy to snare you into his embrace where you can’t help but melt into him.

From the first day you met his human form he’s been intoxicating to you, and maybe this does explain how that could be. Maybe you’ve loved him ever since he was an ordinary man. And if so, could you have filled him with light and made him so powerful as a way of protecting him? Somehow that seems… excessive. What you know with absolute certainty is that if something were to happen to him now, you would stop at nothing to save him. And since spirits are even deeper connected to their emotions than humans are, it is plausible you’ve always felt that way about him.

But it’s such a strange thing to absorb when you have no recollection of being anything else, of living in any other time, and maybe there’s a reason for that. Possibly just that the spirit of Day isn’t supposed to have memories. The problem is, you can’t help but think that what if the reason you can’t remember it, is because Oberyn is wrong and you’re something else entirely.

Wishful thinking, perhaps, but is it really so farfetched? The only way to know for sure is if you can figure out how to use your light, since that would be undeniable proof of your connection to Lux. But you don’t even know how to start. Then something occurs to you, and you pull back to look at your man.

“You said that light can be bent and manipulated into any form, right?”

“Yes.”

“Which means, theoretically, I could do that to any source of light, at will?”

“As far as I understand it, yes. Where are you going with this?”

“The spirits are made of light, aren’t they? So, is it possible… I mean, if I am Day… could I control all of them?”

His eyebrows shoot up at that, so clearly this is something he hasn’t considered.

“It makes even more sense than you realize, my dear. That’s likely the very reason why Day is never seen.”

“Because she’s already there, within all the others, like a natural piece of them. I mean, I am,” you correct yourself, trying to taste the words in the hopes that they’ll somehow start to feel right, but they just don’t. “Shit, this is so screwed up! How can I be her and not even know it?”

“I think our biggest concern at the moment is rather the question of why you’ve come to exist in human form at all? What’s changed in the world to warrant such an extreme measure?”

“Also, why can’t the other spirits tell that I’m one of them, and possibly even a part of them?”

“A conundrum, indeed. However, now that we have learned what we can from this place, I think we’d best head back and resume our hunt for the creatures. Perhaps in doing so, you can uncover the secret to using your power.”

“Let’s hope so, or this might be the shortest war in history.”

He smiles at your attempt to relieve some of the drama, but probably also to offer you some encouragement, since he undoubtedly knows by now that when you joke about deadly serious stuff, it’s usually because you’re scared out of your mind. You let him take a few steps away from you so he won’t knock you over with his transformation, but once he’s done, he doesn’t open his front paw to you.

Instead, he lays down flat and places his front leg against his own side, like a stepping-stone. He wants you to ride on his shoulders, apparently no longer concerned about his hairs injuring you, and while you’re not sure if you’ll be safer hidden within his paws or free to move around on his back, you are curious about what riding a dragon would feel like. Probably nothing like riding a horse, but undoubtedly a thrilling sensation all the same.

But when you step up to him and prepare to climb on, you notice something which hasn’t occurred to you before, and which makes you stop and frown while you try to remember if you’ve just been inattentive or if this has happened as incredibly fast as it appears.

“Hey… you’re a lot bigger than before,” you observe, looking from his snout to your left, all the way down to his tail, curled up further away to your right, and then up towards the muscular arch of his back and the two massive joints connecting it to the wings.

He watches you measure him, and there’s confusion in his golden eyes, so you attempt to elaborate.

“The first time I watched you transform; I figured you were about eight feet tall from the base of your chest to the top of your shoulders. But now, I’d say you’re more like twice that. Which, incidentally, means there’s no way I can climb up from here.”

Still with a perplexed expression, he starts looking himself over and you watch as his confusion is slowly replaced with surprise, so clearly, this is something that’s happened without him noticing either. There’s nothing to be done about it and frankly, it’s not really important right now either, so you move to his hindleg and use that to climb onto his lower back instead, and since you’re unaccustomed to the slippery surface of his scales, you crawl on all fours up to his shoulders.

Once there, you make another strange discovery, in the form of a few bald patches of hair along his neck. Although, you decide not to tell him that. You’re not sure how important his looks are to him, but judging by how impeccably he manages his grooming, there’s every chance baldness would negatively affect him. There was no indication of his human form being similarly affected, so hopefully this is just a result of his recent skirmishes with the spirits.

He waits until he feels you settle in and find your balance before he opens his wings and starts to walk around on the ground for a bit, just flapping a few times to let you feel his movements. It’s difficult to describe just how strong he feels. You imagine that compared to a horse, sitting on an elephant must be like going from a go-cart to a formula one car, in terms of power. But using the same comparison, Oberyn would be like a space shuttle.

And when he starts running against the wind to give you a softer liftoff than if he just jumps and pushes up, in some ways, it really does feel like he’s about to launch you into space. It’s a completely different experience from his back. Once he’s off the ground and the windspeed picks up, you have to lay down as flat against his neck as you can, to avoid getting pushed off by it. But surprisingly, you have no trouble staying put when he turns and maneuvers through the air.

The Atlantic seems to spread out underneath you in no time at all, so he’s not cruising along, and yet, you don’t feel as though you’re moving all that fast. Until there’s suddenly a loud bang, and it takes you a second to grasp that it was the sonic boom of the dragon breaking the sound barrier. You know enough about speed to understand that you shouldn’t be able to breathe if he’s flying that fast, so he must somehow also control the airflow around his body to keep you from suffocating.

In any case, it doesn’t take long before you begin to see land ahead. But if it’s the North American east coast, then someone’s done a real number on it. He slows down and drops lower as you glide in over land, and as far as you can see in all directions the ground looks similar to how it would if a wildfire had raged over it for days. But the trees and grass aren’t dead. Instead, they look like they’ve mutated into something you might’ve expected to see grow out of crude oil.

The tree trunks are black and somehow slimy, and their branches look like snakes covered in needles, just waiting for something living to walk by close enough for them to strike. The grass, meanwhile, resembles thick earthworms attempting to crawl out of the soil but being too deeply embedded in the ground to break free, tangling with one another in their efforts. Bushes and shrubs could just as well be some manner of horridly overgrown stick insects, actual insects have become at least ten times their normal size and overall nightmarish, and even rocks are oozing black goo and moving around, like halfdead trolls.

“This is what you talked about, isn’t it?” you guess once he’s set down some twenty miles inland, in the middle of a large clearing, and he nods once in confirmation which makes your stomach drop. “So, there is a Darkling at work. But if it isn’t me then… who?”

Just as you’ve said it, there’s a delighted laughter coming from what used to be woods to your left, and when you seek out the source, you’re rocked to your core to find Simon walking through the disfigured woods.

“You never really believed that it could be you, did you? Miss Pretty Little Loner. Hah! As if you could ever command this level of dark power.”

He looks exactly the same, save for the small detail that his feet are somehow joined with the wormlike grass, almost as if he’s grown out of it. And when he walks, there are no feet at the base of his legs, the worms just sort of… tear out of the ground when he lifts one leg, and then rejoins it when he finishes the movement.

“Oh, my god. So, Caelum was drawn to a dark presence at the Thanksgiving party, and when she noticed that I could see her, she assumed it had to be me,” you ponder, finally beginning to understand how all the pieces of this puzzle fit together.

“Bingo. And you actually bought it, you dumb bitch,” Simon snickers, obviously delighted that he’s managed to fool you all this time.

Suddenly his odd behavior that day, as well as his persistent attempts to keep you away from Oberyn, slip perfectly into place. He’s known all along what you are, and to him, it was apparently great fun to watch you fumble in the dark.

The dragon growls in warning, probably objecting to the name-calling more than anything, but you’re more concerned with the sudden absence of the spirits. Surely, they must’ve felt the presence of all this darkness being born and multiplying in record pace, so why aren’t they here, fighting it? They certainly never wasted any time trying to take you out.

“Oberyn, where are The Decem? Shouldn’t they be here already?” you whisper, low enough that Si can’t hear it from his position at the edge of the clearing.

But the beast can’t speak, so even if he does know the answer, he can’t tell you. And he’s not gonna risk returning to his human form when there’s a fully developed Darkling next to him. You’re gonna have to try and work this out on your own.

“Aren’t the spirits supposed to be able to sense you? How have you kept them off your scent all this time?” you ask Simon, hoping that his ego will enjoy the opportunity to brag.

“Well, you’re a fool if you think that evolution only happens to creatures of the day. Did the beast never tell you what happened to the last Darkling? I mean, sheesh… no way I was gonna go out like that. So, I figured out how to develop the dark power without actually using it, ergo, no trail for the spirits to follow.”

“And I suppose this is where you want me to congratulate you on your amazing genius?”

“It wouldn’t hurt. I mean, I have done something unprecedented in all of time. Kind of a big deal in certain circles.”

“So, that’s it? You’ll just cover the world in darkness and then live happily ever after?” you sneer, because it genuinely seems so stupid.

“Sounds about right.”

“And when everything’s dead or corrupted beyond redemption, what then? What’s the almighty Simon Truxly gonna do for fun once the world is done ending?”

“You’re not paying attention, sweetheart. I told you, even darkness evolves. The world will end, you’re right about that, but there’ll still be living things to torture for all eternity,” he happily chirps, leaving no doubts regarding just how rotten he must be inside.

“Not if we stop you.”

“Ah, yes. The omnipotent Lux and her pet. I’m sure you felt me coming even back then, that’s probably why you made that thing. Because to a being which exists outside of time, even things thousands of years away from happening are an imminent threat. And of course, you needed him to be well under control by the time I sprang to life, or the world would’ve gone to shit no matter what,” he snickers, but you find nothing amusing about the picture he’s painting.

Because you can see it. You can very vividly imagine what it would look like if a completely undisciplined dragon went to war with a mature Darkling. Especially if there were no spirits around to help. Where are they?

“I’m not gonna let you do it, Si. If you know me at all, you know I don’t stand idly by when bad things happen. And if you were truly so nonchalant about my power then you wouldn’t be wasting all this time trying to convince me that I can’t beat you.”

As cocky as you’re being, you’re also wondering just when you hopped onboard the “I’m a spirit”-train. Because while you’re beginning to hope it’s true, you’re still not convinced that you really are Day.

“I bet he told you that light will always undo darkness, but that’s not true. Even physicists will agree with me there, not that it matters. Bottom line: you’re not gonna beat me. Unlike you, I’ve been training, practicing, preparing all my life for this, while you still thought you were human just a few weeks ago.”

“And unlike you, I don’t remember being anything but human, which is why I still value my humanity. It’s not weakness, it’s what makes everything worth the effort. If life was simply about journeying through pain and darkness, we would’ve seized to exist ages ago, and then who would you play this fucked up game with?” you challenge, and his expression sours.

“Yeah, you’re right. I am wasting time, so let’s get to the fighting then, shall we.”

Before he’s even finished that sentence, with a mere flick of his wrist, a giant root-system is wrought out of the ground. Hundreds of yards of seemingly sentient and malevolent tentacles, coming at you and Oberyn from all directions at lightning speed. The dragon reacts at the first sign of movement, sending a large flame at the closest tangle of roots, which does destroy them. But there are so many of them.

Simon has an arsenal unlike any other, because there are more trees on Earth than there are stars in the Milky Way, not to mention all the other plants, as well as animals, he can corrupt and command. And what do you have? Even now, when your life is threatened, you don’t know the answer to that question. No light flares from within, no hidden connections to the spirits are revealed.

You have nothing. No weapons and no armor, except for the man and monster you love, who now fights for you with everything he is while you just sit there, holding on as best you can. But in the end, still helpless.

Oberyn is fierce in this enraged state. His flame is about to reach the same level of destruction as what he’d awoken in Detroit, and he’s spewing it without pause all around the two of you. How he can do that without needing to breathe in between volleys is beyond your understanding, but what you do know is that despite his colossal effort, he isn’t winning.

And then, amidst the fiery chaos, as if momentarily spellbound, your gaze is drawn away from the battle, towards something moving strangely slowly through the air. It takes a second for you to figure out which distance this unknown featherlike thing is at, but once your focus aligns, you realize that what you’re looking at are bright green strands of hair. Lots of them. Remembering the bald patches, you look down on the dragon’s neck, finding no part of the once thick mane intact.

Shockingly, however, it quickly becomes a mere footnote on this day’s list of unexpected developments, because what you’re looking at is no longer the slick green rows of perfectly aligned scales on Oberyn’s alter ego. Instead, what’s underneath you now is at least ten times bigger, completely white with much larger, thicker, and rock-like scales. The normal golden glow of his eyes has turned bright blue, and somehow, you know those eyes.

You’ve seen this beast before, in another time. He’s as old as you are. The first dragon, created by the clash of light and dark, long before any life had evolved in the galaxy. And back then, he’d been a creature of night, breaking the earth apart and reshaping it countless times over. It was his anger and despair which had sent continents clashing together, creating mountain ranges and deep-sea trenches.

For eons he’d raged, while you, a mere spirit with no other ability than to chase away shadows, had felt his agony and searched for a way to end it. By the time you’d learned of the complete absence of light within him, he’d become so infested with hatred, you’d feared no light could ever penetrate his blackened heart.

You’d gone to him anyway, formless, just a light hovering around his head, hoping for a moment of his focus. And you’d gotten only that. One moment. Just enough to show him. But once he’d seen true light, brightness had taken hold of him and found a home within his chest, so strong it had turned his body white. From that moment, no shadow, no matter how deep, could ever again sway him. And with that freedom, he’d chosen to give his strength, all his might and power… to you.

“Tyrannus,” you hear yourself say as the memory leaves you, and you know exactly what it means.

Tyrant. Oppressor. But it was also his name. The name of the first beast to walk the Earth, who’s powers you have now bestowed upon the old prince.

Part 10

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer.

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sisterspooky1013 · 10 months

Text

Gaslight, Chapter 38/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

When Mulder walks out of the restaurant with Cal and the kids trailing behind him, Frohike and Byers, who are standing beside the van, exchange a worried look.

“Calvin Rose, this is John Byers and Melvin Frohike,” he says, gesturing to each man in turn. “And this is Abby and Peter.”

The Gunmen regard Mulder with wide eyes.

“Calvin Rose?” Byers repeats, extending his hand for Cal to shake. “As in Dana and Calvin Rose?”

“Cal received a letter, purportedly from Scully,” Mulder explains. “It instructed him to get on the train at the Henryton tunnel at noon.”

Frohike checks his watch. Cal hands Abby the keys to their car.

“Ten, mijita. Go see if there are any more M&Ms in the car.”

The four men watch the children go, waiting until they are out of earshot to speak again.

“We need to hit the road in fifteen minutes if we’re going to make it by noon,” Frohike says urgently. “What’s the plan, Mulder?”

“Cal is coming with me to look for Scully,” he says. “You two need to stay back with the kids.” He hesitates, then adds, “Their chips haven’t been removed yet.” The Gunmen’s eyes widen, and Mulder can see the questions and concerns running through their heads. “You said it’s not real-time tracking, right?”

Byers swallows nervously.

“Based on the size of the device, they’d only be able to triangulate a rough location, maybe within about five miles, every thirty minutes or so.”

“So if you keep moving you should be safe?” They don’t respond right away, just look at him and then at each other reluctantly. “We don’t have time to second-guess, guys,” he says, irritated.

“In theory, yes,” Byers finally says.

Mulder turns to Cal.

“Do you know how to fire a gun?”

The corner of Cal’s mouth quirks a little, the closest thing to a smile Mulder has seen on the man.

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s gear up and go. The kids stay with the van, and we’ll take your car.” He turns to Byers, who looks entirely uncomfortable with the last minute change in plans. “I’ll call you when we make it back to town so we can arrange a place to meet.”

Byers touches Mulder’s upper arm, turning them slightly away from the other two.

“I hate to ask this,” he says quietly, “but…what if you don’t come back?”

Mulder gives him a significant look.

“I trust your judgment,” he finally says, and Byers briefly closes his eyes.

Each man is outfitted with two weapons, one to be worn at the hip and the other strapped around an ankle as backup. Cal moves the children’s bags from their car into the van and then beckons them both over, crouching down to bring himself to their eye level.

“Eschúame, niños,” he begins, taking one of each of their hands. “These are my friends, John and Melvin.” Abby glances at the Gunmen and leans in to whisper something in her father’s ear. “Yes, Melvin is kind of a funny name. I need to go with this man to pick Mommy up.” He gestures to Mulder, who smiles reassuringly. “It’s not safe for kids, so John and Melvin are going to take you on an adventure while Daddy and Mr. Mulder go get Mommy, okay?”

Peter lets out a long, petulant whine.

“I was gonna ride the train!” he complains.

“I know, Pete. I’m sorry. We’ll ride a train some other time, okay?”

“Promise?” Peter asks, scowling.

“Pinky promise,” Cal says, holding up his fist with the pinky out so Peter can link it with his own.

“When will you be back?” Abby asks, her bottom lip plumping up and her eyes wet.

“I’m not sure. Hopefully soon,” he says, and she nods.

Frohike slides the van door open and Frenchie pops her head out, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. Abby sucks in a breath and moves closer to her father, grabbing on to his arm.

“Daddy,” she whimpers, and Cal follows her eye to the dog.

“Puchica,” Cal mutters. “I’m sorry, Abby, I have to get going or we’ll be late. The dog won’t hurt you, I promise.”

The child only tightens her grip.

“This is Frenchie,” Mulder says, patting the dog’s head. “She’s a very gentle dog, and she loves kids.”

“It’s 11:33,” Frohike points out.

“Daddy has to go,” Cal says again. “I need you both to be brave for me, okay? Can you be brave?”

A tear slides down Abby’s cheek, and she wipes it away.

“You can be brave and scared at the same time,” she says in a tiny voice, and a pained smile stretches across Cal’s face.

“That’s right, mijita. You can.”

“I’m not scared of dogs or alligators,” Peter says proudly, and Cal pulls him into a hug.

“Be good, okay? Listen to Melvin and John.”

“Okay, Daddy,” the children recite in unison.

Cal sits back on his haunches and gives them both a long look.

“I love you,” he says tightly, and Mulder feels a sudden kick of guilt. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He gives them each a last hug and kiss on the forehead, and then stands and walks purposefully toward his car.

“Let’s go,” he says over his shoulder, not looking back. “We’ve got a train to catch.”

It takes them twenty minutes to get to the tunnel. Cal is silent for the entirety of the drive, and Mulder can’t think of anything to say to fill the silence that wouldn’t feel painfully frivolous given the situation, so he stays silent as well. The small-town scenery gives way to an even more rural area, houses becoming further and further apart. They’re bumping down a pitted dirt road when Cal sits up and his mouth falls open.

“What?” Mulder asks, looking between him and the road. “What is it?”

Cal shakes his head as though disoriented.

“I’ve been here before,” he says. “I remember this road with the tracks up ahead. There’s going to be a little gravel lot on the left up here.”

Sure enough, a small gravel lot appears to their left just as the road runs up against a set of train tracks, and Mulder can see the train tunnel about fifty yards beyond it. He makes a U-turn and heads back down the road a short ways, pulling the car into a small clearing that will obscure it from the view of anyone on the train. The men exit the car and walk quickly back to the gravel lot, and Mulder looks at Cal expectantly. The sun sits high in a cloudless sky, and sweat is already beading on both men’s foreheads.

“What should we do now? What do you remember?” Mulder asks, shielding the sun with his hand. Cal is scanning the surrounding landscape, his jaw jutting out to the side unnaturally before his shoulder quirks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cal says cooly. “I was brought here in a transport van. The train passed partway through the tunnel and stopped. I was walked into the tunnel and told to get into a boxcar.”

“So should we wait in the tunnel?” Mulder asks, and Cal shakes his head.

“We gotta get through it,” he says, then sets off jogging toward the tracks. Mulder follows after him, and they quickly approach the opening of the west end of the tunnel. “There will be men in the boxcar,” he says breathlessly, his arms pumping. “We’ll have to get on a different car and ride out there without anyone seeing us. Better odds of that at the back of the train.”

The interior of the tunnel is dank and covered in graffiti. As they near the halfway mark, Mulder hears the distant, muted hiss of a train whistle and his heart jumps into his throat. When they emerge from the east end of the tunnel, the headlight of an engine car is close enough that Mulder can make out the silhouette of the engineer as he reaches up to blow the whistle again, warning them off the tracks.

“Down here,” he directs Cal, and the two scramble down a small embankment, flattening themselves against the ground as the train begins to pass by above them.

Dry grass tickles his nose as the wind generated by the train sends it whipping against his face, and he feels the sheer mass of the locomotive rumbling in the ground beneath his chest. The brakes screech and he winces, resisting the urge to cover his ears. The clack and rumble of the train over the tracks becomes slower and slower for several minutes until finally they hear the sequential bang of the cars coming to a stop. They wait and listen, their faces turned toward each other. Mulder flicks his eyes up toward the train, suggesting that they go now, and Cal shakes his head.

There is the crunch of boots on gravel, and the men lock eyes, holding perfectly still.

“Anything?” a voice calls out from inside the tunnel.

“Nah, nothin’,” someone answers, so close that Mulder can hear them sniff and clear their throat. The crunch of the boots becomes further and further away, but they keep waiting.

“When the train starts moving, we go,” Mulder mouths, his voice less than a whisper, and Cal nods.

They hear a door slamming shut, then several minutes of silence. The train whistle blows and a few seconds later, loud clangs sound off along the track as each car lurches forward and the train begins to move. When they hear a clang just above them, Mulder gets up on his hands and knees and Cal does the same.

The freight train is carrying so many cars that the caboose is still miles down the track, hidden from view. Boxcars, flatbeds, and tanker trucks start to slowly move past them, and Mulder considers which would be the most practical to ride on.

“This one,” Cal says, pointing to a white hopper car.

They begin to jog beside it as it slowly picks up speed. Cal guides them to the rear of the car where the slope of the hopper leaves an empty space they can sit on and be protected from the wind. He grabs hold of a ladder and runs alongside the car until he can pull himself up and get a decent foothold, then slips through the beams supporting the structure of the car and holds his hand out to Mulder.

The train is picking up speed, and the gravel is loose under Mulder’s feet as he begins to run to keep up with the car. He reaches for Cal’s hand but only manages to brush the tips of his fingers before the train enters the tunnel. It’s dark now, and there are just a couple feet between the wall of the tunnel and the train car.

“Come on!” Cal shouts in the dark, bracing his shoulder against the support beam and extending his arm as far as possible.

Mulder pushes himself harder, kicking up gravel as he struggles to keep pace. Soon, the train will be moving too fast for him to safely get on. He has barely any clearance between his body and the tunnel wall on one side, the fast-moving train on the other. If he so much as stumbles, he could be easily thrown under the wheels of the train and crushed. He pulls in a huge breath and forces himself to run faster, his arm extended. The light at the other end of the tunnel is beginning to reach them when he sees Cal’s hand close around his wrist and his feet lose contact with the ground. He flies up, tethered to the car by Cal’s hand and brought airborne by the momentum of the train, but soon enough his feet smash down against the gravel surrounding the tracks and he cries out.

Cal slips his other arm between the rungs of the ladder, fumbling to get a better hold on Mulder as his feet strike the ground and send him flying up before he crashes down again like a rock skipping across water. Cal manages to get a fistfull of his shirt and tugs on it violently, and suddenly Mulder’s chest is pinned against the rungs of the ladder, his feet dangling just above the ground.

“You gotta get your foot up!” Cal shouts, his body crammed against the metal beams on the train car that are preventing them both from falling to their deaths.

Mulder bends one leg and scrambles to find footing, and finally he lands on something solid. Slowly, he pulls himself up until he is supporting his own weight and Cal is able to release him. Both men fall into the empty space at the back of the hopper, panting and exhausted.

“You good?” Cal asks, looking him over.

Mulder’s shirt is stretched out around the collar and his boots are scuffed to shit, but aside from some soreness he appears to be unscathed.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “Thank you.”

Cal nods, and they are quiet for a time as they travel alongside the river, each catching their breath and taking in the picturesque countryside while the train gently jostles them.

“Do you remember what comes next?” Mulder shouts over the noise of the rails as he uses the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “How long were you on the train?”

Cal stares out into the distance, contemplating.

“Less than an hour,” Cal shouts back, leaning in. “I know we didn’t stop at all before we got there. There weren’t any windows in the boxcar so I couldn’t see what we passed or anything, but I remember that when we stopped it wasn’t at a train station. It was just kind of in the middle of nothing, like the tunnel.”

Mulder nods. Less than an hour until they arrive. He feels some sickening combination of excitement, fear, and nervousness, and he checks to be sure that both his weapon and backup weapon are still present and properly secured. He can’t wait to see Scully again, to feel the way he feels when he’s with her. Like someone really sees him. Really knows him.

“Do you remember what’s after the train? Where they took you?”

Cal shakes his head, looking disappointed with himself.

“Hopefully when I see it I’ll remember. It’s like I have to see or hear things to remember them. Something has to jog the memory,” he explains, and Mulder nods.

“That’s what Scully said too. Dana, I mean.”

“They didn’t get you?” Cal asks, touching the back of his neck.

“They did,” Mulder tells him. “But for whatever reason, very little has come back to me.”

“You remembered Dana, though,” he says, as though it’s a given.

Mulder doesn’t see any reason to get into specifics, at least for now.

“She’s hard to forget,” he says by way of an answer, and Cal flashes him a knowing smile that sends a stab of jealousy shooting through him.

When they hear the brakes screech a short time later, they exchange a look. The train begins to slow and they ready their weapons, just in case.

“I think it will be safest if we wait until the train starts up again before we jump off,” Mulder suggests, and Cal nods his agreement.

“If this is the spot, there will be a dirt road right off the tracks,” he says, and Mulder is grateful for his steadily unraveling memory.

The train eventually comes to a full stop, and they listen to indiscernible voices in the distance, doors opening and closing, and the mechanical roar of vehicle engines for several minutes. The engines fade away, as do the voices, and when the cascade of clangs signals that the train is starting to move, they put away their weapons and prepare to jump.

The earth beside the tracks is covered in bramble, but the dirt beneath it is soft enough to effectively break their fall. They carefully drop down, first Mulder and then Cal, and pick burrs off their jeans while the rest of the train chugs along beside them. There do not appear to be any other people around.

“This way,” Cal says, un-holstering his gun and taking the lead.

Mulder follows behind him, pistol in hand but with the safety on, as they approach a hard-packed dirt path that disappears around a bend into the woods.

“Is it far?” Mulder asks quietly.

Cal shakes his head.

“Not very. Let’s stay off the road though.”

They make their way into the edge of the woods, keeping the path in their line of sight as they follow it deeper into the lush green of summer in full bloom. Acorns crunch under their shoes and birds sing a carefree song overhead, and it all feels so tranquil and out of place for their mission.

The dirt path curves generously to the left, then dead ends in a small parking lot. The two men crouch down at the edge of the woods and watch as a woman in medical scrubs walks back and forth across the lot, intermittently holding her cell phone up to the sky before bringing it to her ear to shout, “I can’t hear you!”

The parking lot itself has only six spaces, three of which are occupied by a golf cart, a van, and a motorcycle. In front of the spaces there’s a stone retaining wall of some kind, and seemingly nothing else.

“Where is it?” Mulder asks quietly, and Cal shrugs.

“I headbutted the guy who was walking me in and tried to run, and I think they knocked me out or something. I don’t remember anything after this except waking up in a hospital bed.”

“Hello?!” the woman shouts, bending forward as though that will somehow cause cell service to materialize. She finally gives up and stuffs her phone into the pocket of her scrubs with a huff, stalking towards the retaining wall.

“Where is she going?” Mulder wonders under his breath.

When the woman reaches the wall, she walks around the edge of it and disappears into the forest. Cal looks over at Mulder and he looks back.

“You know what I just remembered?” Cal says. “That place didn’t have a single damn window. Not a one.”

“Let’s just hope these guys have more regard for fire code than they do for human life,” Mulder says, and Cal quirks his head at him. “There’s gotta be more than one way in. And out.”

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