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#like going from being the 'team leader' who followed their father's every orders and saw protecting the team as a task?
currentlyonstandbi · 2 years
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one thing i really need from season 3 is to see luther protect his siblings from reginald
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blowoutbeachbash · 11 months
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oh yeah i started watching tmnt 2003 also so im watching that + the 1987 show side by side BUT thoughts so far on the two from a guy who knew essentially nothing going in:
already the 2003 ver of splinter sorta feels like a wiser approach to the character just in that it avoids that underlying racism unintentional it may be with him being a japanese man turned into a rat. instead being same as the turtles in originally just being a normal rat. from context clues im guessing hamato yoshi will be weaved into the story later as a separate character so hes not entirely omitted just reworked
though beyond the unfortunate implications associated w aspects of his character concept i do rlly enjoy splinter as a character + think his relationship with the turtles and april in 1987 is very sweet like man hes really just their dad….in 2003 how he saw these lost baby turtles + just thought Well i guess im a father now despite being completely different species is so 😭😭 the little nest he made for them….
i LOVE!!! the turtles theyre actually SO skrunkly theyre my best friends…..i love them all theyre very special to me. particularly 87 raphael and 2003 mikey have immediately latched onto my brain the absolute silly of these critters everything they say is like cocomelon shit to me. i love them SO VERY!!! dearly <33
i love aprils attitude of fuck around + find out i think shes a very fun character. ive seen ppl refer to her 1987 iteration as being a “damsel in distress” but i dont really agree with that at all lol bc she doesnt just get kidnapped she actively gets herself into shit for a news story…its the same issue i hold with people referring to daphne as such tbh. also wrt her 87 character i love how similar to 2003 splinter she meets the turtles and is freaked out for like a few seconds b4 just being like Well i guess im a big sister now
the difference in style + tone b/w the two shows is immediately evident lol like for example 87 is largely episodic bar the first five episodes really where instantly 2003 is set up as having an overarching plot. and just by the artstyle its clear 2003 will intend to have a more serious plot at that compared to the more overall lighthearted yet earnest 87
i havent met casey jones in 87 but wrt 2003 help ….whats wrong w this guy i need to see more of him NEOW! i really liked his introductory episode his dynamic w raph is sweet i like how raph sees himself in casey + thus wants to help him. all about balance….
donatello CARRIES rhe team in both these versions my goodness. he deserves the world hes so funny
2003 raphs brooklyn accent kills me every time he speaks. thank u
speaking 👆 of 2003 raph i really love his + mikeys relationship so far especially. really enjoy dynamics where one of the characters annoys the shit outta the other one frequently intentionally and while the other gets angry over this its clear that its rarely serious + they care abt each other very deeply. interesting foil situation being set up too i think maybe? mikey seems to have this natural talent but little desire to train where raph is the opposite going simply by their sparring scene in ep4. love how they reunite after that scene too the absolute sillies:
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i think its interesting already the differing takes on the characters which manifests a lot in how i think their ages are portrayed? like obviously theyre all the same age but theres still the Vibe of an age order that appears mutually agreed upon by the characters. in both versions leonardo is unequivocally the eldest + the leader ofc. but then in 87 for me i get the vibe that michelangelo is the second oldest, followed by donatello, followed by raphael (which is funny i think. 87 raphael is just a little hater) whereas in 2003 it goes leo -> raph -> donatello -> mikey and that then seems to become the constant for the rest of the franchise (bar rise of the tmnt i think? where raph + leo swap). theres just interesting dynamics to be had there in how due to this higher emphasis placed on an age order for example 2003 raph seems to be portrayed as more protective + authoritative compared to 87 raph who is more laidback and just a little hater as opposed to having genuine anger issues
i have run out of things to say. UHM anyway overall im really enjoying it!!! i love the turtles a lot. little guys who r beginning to live in my brain…..
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toothlesshat · 1 year
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Sorry for long post I tend to get carried away with fic posts and... well, I had to cut it short before I go too far
No worries anon! But I am going to paste the entire fic here so I don’t accidentally clog up my follower’s dashboards with how long the ask is 😅
Anyway, here’s anon’s fic!
Anon’s fic
Whoo boy this is gonna be a long one. For context this is all in Leo's perspective so a lot of what he describes is his own misunderstand of the situation... if you want to do a followup I'd be very happy but I just think this qould be a neat way for forced the two to bond.
He left in the dead of night, when not even Donnie would be awake. He didn't know exactly where he could go, whether he even should go... but he didn't care. All he knew was he needed to do this, to get away from this place. This feeling of helplessness and inadequacy. Its not like anyone would notice or care... he only planned to be gone a few days and they had the perfect replacement for the team in CJ and... him.
His older self, the one who was wiser, stronger, and a far better leader than he could ever hope to be. The one who, shortly after the Kraang was defeated, they discovered had also been sent back in time. By accident from their very own Mikey, whom was so desperate to save his brother fromt he prison dimension, he broke not only the laws of dimensional travel but the laws of the time space continuum. He had been placed in the cot across from Leo's own comatose state when they found him unconcious, and by the time the younger slider had returned to the land of the living, he had been awake for a week and already taking over as medic, specifically for his own younger self. He remembered the first words his older self had spoken, a rough tone in his voice that he couldn't place but was certain could only be disappointment.
"You sure got yourself fucked up, eh? Just had to make that stupid, reckless sacrifice... aw, kid... as if your family doesn't worry about ya enough...'
Leo doesn't think he was meant to hear that, but he did. He did and knowing his own self saw what he did and brushed it off as reckless stupidity hurt... a lot more than he had expected it to. The topic of what Leonardo was talking about or what he meant when he said that never came up as Leo let out a groan, alerting Leonardo of his waking and prompting him to call for his brothers. Even he knew better than to have the first thing an ailing patient saw being his own, wartorn older self that had supposedly been killed trying to get CJ to the past. Pity for hin that Leo had already been awake and coherent when he noticed.
And thus the weeks of recovery went, his older self a constant, judgemental shadow watching over him and his brothers, critiquing his every move. And then the training. With Leonardo around, he and his brothers found their training regime put on a far stricter schedule, the war veteran much harsher and a lot less distractable than their father was. At least... he was to Leo. With Raph, Donnie, or even Mikey he was far more lenient. If Mikey so much as twitched or fidgeted with his still bandaged hands, Leonardo would order him to go rest and take it easy. If Leo tried to skip out on training or physical therapy Leonardo would be there to drag him back kicking and screaming and forced him to go through the exercises until he was satisfied no matter the younger complaints that this particular stretching exercise made his leg ache or how he just couldn't get this one move right. Then, once training was 'done' he'd sit Leo down with a long winded lecture in what he did wrong and 'how to improve it' before sending him off to shower and then bed with some tea.
It wasn't much better with Raph or Donnie, both of whom received similar treatment to Mikey, albeit om a lesser level.
Leo didn't blame his older self for his favoritism, from the man's perspective he was reunited with his brother's whom he had watched die one by one so a little favoring of his brother's was to be expected. The problem came with the sharp contrast to how he interacted with Leo in comparison, and it was clear he was targeting Leo alone for these too high expectations. With April he was joking, with CJ he was patient... even Cass had gained some sort of positive attention from the other slider. With Leo however, he doesn't think he's ever heard so much as an acknowledgment that he had done a good job... only a weighted look as he spoke of what his condition was from when he was rescued from the prison dimension and then the turtle leaving the room, presumably unable to be in the same room as the younger, foolish self who had nearly caused the apocalypse and gotten his brothers hurt. It was always 'Think before you Act' or 'Do you really think this is the right action to take, kid??' whenever he came up with a plan or Leonardo chastising him for doing something like trying to run to Run of the Mill after he just got cleared for walking and wasn't supposed to leave the lair yet or using his powers to steal a slice of Mikey's pizza despite CJ sneaking a slice of Leonardo's own Hawaiian right in front of Mr. GREATEST NINJA!
After months of judgment, lectures, and absolutely no change in outlook, Leo had enough! If Leonardo hated him so much them fine, but he doesn't have to stick around and put up with it! Packing a small bag with a note explaining that he just needed some time to himself and not to look for him, he portaled out straight from his bedroom. Ever since the portal jacking incident, Donnie had laid some ground rules stating that he should keep portal usage to a minimum on the lair, stating that a portal that can be jacked could theoretically be tracked and until he had some way to preventing that the lair was a no outbound portal zone.
Leo didn't care about it at this moment, nor did he notice a familiar and haggard pair eyes peek in as they investigated the familiar sound of a portal, which is why the sound of an older voice startled him in to tripping backwards as he ehirled about, falling into the portal just as a mechanical hand grasped his arm, pulling his older self in with him.
"Kid! What do you think you're-!?"
"Whaaaa!?"
As with any uncontrolled portal, Leo wasn't sure what happened when he landed. All he remembered was a blinding pain before darkness filled his vision and a large arm pulling him close upon impact. When he awoke he found that those arms were still wrapped around him as his older self held him close, looking over a field very far from the lair or Run of the Mill where Leo had been planning to go for a few days and beg Hueso to let him stay and a pounding headache. Nausea curled in his stomach and the light seemed to make it worst, prompting Leo to shut his eyes again.
"Where... are we?"
"Well... we're not in New York or the Hidden City anymore... did you mean to send us to a farm?" came the sarcastic reply form the older turtle as he glanced down at him, "We seem to be in good old rural Upstate New York... and you have a concussion."
Shit... that means no portaling back home. He was stuck in an unfamiliar place with his future self for an undetermined amount of time.
OHHH ANON THIS IS GOOD I LIKE THIS!!! You definitely captured Leo’s feelings on the matter pretty well, and I like the potential you left for them in the end having to make up with one another. I think you captured the frustration and belittling he feels really well too, I was even a little frustrated for him ahdhsjfjdjfk. This is a really good fic! I enjoyed it a lot :)
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chicken-fifi · 2 years
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The Protector and the Protected - Part XVI
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Description: After a minor slip up in security, the existence of the only daughter of a diplomat is leaked to the world. With no knowledge of what other unprecedented dangers may arise, your father brings you home after an attempt on your life while living abroad. Upon your return, you are assigned a personal bodyguard to ensure your safety who is to be by your side practically every waking moment. Come hell or high water, he makes sure that you’re as safe as can be while under his watch. As much as you tell yourself that this isn’t some bodyguard fanfic where you end up falling in love, somehow your protector manages to make you question that small detail.
Warnings: Violence, guns, cursing, sexual inuendos, kidnapping, constant danger, mass shootings, smut, idk man just stuff
Word Count: 1,337 words
The Protector and the Protected Masterlist  
| Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI |
A chair scraped against the concrete floor causing an awful echo and ringing to fill your ears before it stopped. Footsteps then made their way to you, hands grabbing you roughly and forcing you up. You figured maybe this person wanted you to walk, however you weren't given a chance to do so - not that you would’ve been able to walk well anyways, taking into consideration the chains limiting the movement of your legs and the fact that you’d been confined to the stiff mattress with no way of really being able to get up. Arms hoisted you up and over a shoulder causing a yelp to leave your lips as you struggled a bit. No sooner has you been hoisted up and you were dropped into the chair - probably the one that was moved moments ago.
“Careful now,” Congressman Park’s voice said. “We need her to look well for the camera. No bruises, scrapes, none of that.”
“Right sir,” another voice said. “We’ll be ready to start the call as soon as we have a secure line that will throw any hackers off our trail.”
While that man’s footsteps moved further away from you, you heard the Congressman’s move closer to you. His rough and calloused hand took hold of your jaw, his face drawing closer - something you only noticed because of the foul breath that brushed against your face. You held your breath, forcing yourself not to gag at the stench. The fingers of his other hand caressed your face.
“You’re a pretty little thing. Almost as pretty as your mother was. She was a skank, that one. Not sure how she managed to bag someone like your father. Then again, I suppose the man only saw the body he would have at his deposition if he had her by his-”
You moved your head biting harshly on his hand eliciting a sharp intake of breath and almost a scream from the foul breathed man before you. In return he pulled his hands away briefly only for the palm of one to come in contact with your cheek before proceeding to back hand you.
“It seems her looks weren’t the only thing you inherited,” he mocked, his hands not going back to your face, he had also leaned away from you. “Bite me again and I’ll see to it that every single pearly white tooth of yours is pulled one by one.”
The door to the room opened, the man from before saying that everything was set for the video call to be made.
“Well your father certainly isn’t going to like the state of your face at the moment but you brought that upon yourself.”
~~~
Everyone waited anxiously in the control room. Your father had been brought in to hold the following call with Park after wanting proof of life. This would buy their hackers at least some time to track down where it is you could be being held at.
“Just keep him talking,” their team leader said. “We’ll need as much time as we can get in order to find her.”
Your father nodded, looking back at the laptop in front of him. Everything was silent for minutes on end as they waited for the call to come in. In that silence his thoughts wandered to how much of a poor excuse of father he was and had been. He hadn’t dwelled on those thoughts long when the screen lit up. He noticed the countdown being made by one of the agents sitting a ways away and answered the call as soon her hand fell down. 
His heart shattered as he stared at the screen.
“Here she is,” Congressman Park announced. “I don’t understand why you would want to hide a beauty like this from the world.”
“(y/n) are you-” he began before being cut off by the presidential candidate.
“I never said you could speak to her.”
Seonghwa felt his blood boil as he watched on the larger screen that was showing everything your father could see. Park’s hand traced your face, your body pulling away as it reached our cheek. They were noticeably redder than the rest of your body, he didn’t have a doubt in his mind that the man had struck you shortly before the call had been made.
“Are you going to make the 20 million deposit and ensure I win the presidency or am I going to have to deprive you and the rest of your clan of hooligans from getting this little fawn back in one piece?”
“Please don’t hurt her,” your father’s voice shook as he rushed the words out before thinking.
“That doesn’t answer my question Mr. (y/l/n).”
Your father’s eyes wandered over to the team leader who didn’t spare him a look as he was focused on the girl in front him tapping away on the keyboard trying to hack into the feed to get a location. Seonghwa cursed as he heard Park begin to speak.
“If I don’t get an answer in the next 5 seconds you can wish her good-”
Seonghwa's body reacted on its own rushing over to where your father was seated and pushing him away, coming face to screen with the very man he wanted to kill at that very moment for taking you - for causing him so much pain.
“Well if it isn’t Mr. Loverboy,” Park snidded, after a moment, clearly caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the man.
~~~
The Congressman ripped the blindfold off of your face causing you to wince at the light coming from the laptop’s screen. It was the first sign of light you’d seen in hours?, maybe days, you weren’t sure.
“Take one last look at her,” Park said, shoving your face forward. “Cause the next time you see her she’ll be nothing more than a bits and pieces of flesh and blood splattered all over the place.”
Before you could utter a single word, he cut off the call and yanked you back, his other hand shoving the laptop to the floor with a force that caused the screen to break from the keys. He went to say more before he was interrupted by the same man from before.
“They hacked in. It won’t be long before they get here.”
~~~
“I have a location,” their hacker rushed out just before the call was cut. “You’ll have to hurry before they move her.”
Seonghwa went to leave the room, Kiseok grabbing his arm and stopping him, “I don’t think-”
“I’m not staying here while everyone else goes. I’m going to kill that son of a bitch if it’s the last thing I do.”
He pulled his arm from Kiseok and rushed out of the room quickly heading with the rest of the men leaving for said location.
~~~
Park pulled a gun from the inside of his suit jacket and fired it at the young man, striking him in the center of his forehead. He then proceeded to pull out a needle from a pocket and jabbed it into your neck, forcing whatever sedative into your bloodstream. You were out within moments.
~~~
The vehicles came to a stop at the abandoned building, men jumping out and rushing to get you. Seonghwa had joined one of the groups that went to a lower floor. They barged into a room quickly clearing it before looking around for any sort of clues whilst avoiding the dead body that had been dragged to the corner of the room. It was their suspected mole - a new employee of your father’s, he had even been working for him for a year. You weren’t there. You had been there at some point, not too long before they’d arrived, but they were too late. You were gone.
“We have something on the third floor,” Wonjae radioed. “They appear to be bomb plans and blueprints to a house…”
The line went silent before it started again. 
“He planning to bomb Mr. (y/l/n)’s estate!”
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bigskydreaming · 3 years
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Brain topic du jour is reflecting on the frankly weird as fuck pattern in Dick’s life where....he barely ever experiences losses one at a time. Most of the loss he’s experienced in his life is compounded by him losing multiple people and other elements of stability all at the exact same time.
1) When his parents died, in some continuities this is coupled with him losing his extended family of his aunt and cousin as well, with his uncle left comatose and on life support for years before he eventually died as well. Even in continuities without Richard, Karla and John, the loss of Dick’s parents is compounded by the additional loss of his circus family in the sense that he was taken away from them by the state and their constant reassuring presences in his life were no longer comforts he was able to rely on.
2) When Jason died, Dick didn’t just lose his brother, as the tragedy was compounded by Bruce’s reaction. I’ll never be able to gloss over the effects of NTT #55, personally, because I think its too key to Dick’s entire characterization and the specific direction his character took in the years that followed this, to like....disregard that Bruce however unintentionally, while lost in his own grief, added to Dick’s own sense of loss for Jason in probably the worst way possible. As by kicking Dick out and telling him to leave his keys, Dick - having no way to know or guess that they’d ever reconcile, just like he never actually went back to the circus being a regular presence for him - to Dick, this was in essence the equivalent of his childhood tragedy all over again. Losing not just one family member, but his whole family in one sweep, and all the comforts and stability offered by a home he was forced to leave. Even Dick’s contact with Alfred was minimal for awhile, because why would the guy who basically JUST saw history repeat itself and was like, well I know how THIS tends to play out.....why would he think that if Alfred felt forced to actually choose between his loyalties to Bruce and Dick respectively, that Alfred would pick Dick over the man he’d known and raised from childhood himself?
3) Titans Hunt. I know I harp on this one a lot, but you can’t deny that it fits the pattern. Dick didn’t just lose one friend and teammate.....he lost Joey, he lost a good four or five lesser known Titans who nevertheless were people he viewed as directly HIS responsibility to keep safe. With these tragedies compounded by the fact that though comics played out a lot more slowburn and extended stories over years back then, like.....the aftermath of Titans Hunt was still everpresent and directly died into Dick’s reactions and emotions during the Mirage storyline and everything that happened with the failed wedding and his breakup with Kory AND the fact that he was literally forced off the team he’d basically founded, by the government agency that took over the team and appointed Roy as its leader in his stead.
3) Graduation Day. The second time the Titans disbanded it was again not due to a singular loss, because Dick didn’t just lose Donna at this point, but also Lilith died in the exact same story and though Lilith is criminally underused, like, she’s also one of Dick’s oldest friends. She was literally the first Titan to join after the original five. This then led into the Outsiders era, where Dick was shown to still be reeling from the losses of this story for an extended period of time, and in a fun parallel to the Titans Hunt aftermath, Dick was also ousted from his leadership of THIS team by essentially a vote of no confidence by his teammates (and uh, Bruce too, literally).
4) The Blockbuster arc. Where Dick’s emotional state was due to a continued string of multiple losses. He lost his apartment building and almost every one of the neighbors he’d built a community out of, as we’d been shown him actively involving himself in their lives and vice versa for YEARS before this point. Then he lost his circus, his childhood home, burned to the ground and with dozens of deaths - both spectators and actual performers Dick had known and loved as a child. Then he lost his relationship with Barbara, his sense of self-security and autonomy to Tarantula, he lost another teen vigilante who died in his colors, the mantle HE’D created, when Stephanie was believed dead in War Games, and it all culminated in losing the city he’d invested himself in as his CHOSEN home, the place he dedicated himself to protecting, when Chemo blew it up.
Oh just for the record - my nonexistent passport to the magical kingdom of Narnia for a fic that raises the point when bringing up Tim’s losses in the Red Robin era, that like.....ALL of the above happened at literally the EXACT SAME TIME as all Tim’s referenced losses occurred. Obviously Steph meant more to Tim than Dick on a personal level, but I also included her largely as an anchor point to the timeline, to show how that death, and not long after that Jack Drake’s and then Superboy’s.... occurred right smack in the middle of one of the absolute WORST periods of Dick’s life. To be clear, I don’t intend this to suggest that no actually, Dick had it harder than Tim - nah. 
No thank you. Hard pass. I hate that sort of thing even in support of my own faves over other characters. No, instead the thing I’d love to see explored more is just in light of the SPECIFIC angle fics take here - that Dick’s actions while Bruce was lost in time showed an obliviousness to everything Tim had lost lately - for literally ANYONE to bring up or introduce into the timeline here an awareness of everything Dick had lost AT THE EXACT SAME TIME PERIOD. To establish that actually, Dick didn’t just ‘not understand what it was like’ - rather, its more accurate to say that nobody in universe around this time ever shows an awareness of Dick’s own losses and says oh wait, that doesn’t track then. 
Because obviously, with this stuff put in proper perspective, Dick understands VERY VERY WELL the exact thing we’re accusing him of not understanding by being oblivious to Tim’s losses that he’s not actually oblivious to because he tries to talk to Tim about them all the time, while meanwhile its everyone else who has absolutely mum to say about the fact that Dick’s emotional state is compromised to hell and back at this point, not JUST because of losing Bruce, but also because *gestures wildly* literally ALL OF THE ABOVE in the exact same time frame Tim’s extended losses happened in.
And okay I am going to indulge in slight tiny itty bitty pettiness and point out my ire that so many fics set during this time tend to recite listicles of Tim’s losses, with Steph, Kon and Jack Drake at the very top of said list....while paying no attention whatsoever to the fact that STEPH WAS LITERALLY BACK BY THE TIME THE RED ROBIN SERIES HAPPENED. She’s LITERALLY a person Dick sends to check up on Tim after Tim turns Dick away when he tries himself. How are you gonna stress the impact Steph’s loss has on Tim when you’re not even acknowledging STEPH’S RIGHT HERE IN THE EXACT SPECIFIC CANON STORY YOU’RE CITING??? I just. afhioskhflafhlafhklfahlfa. 
And not to put too fine a point on it, but you know who ELSE was also back at the same time? CONNOR. Superboy LITERALLY was already back to life by the time the Red Robin series even began. Like, the issue where a resurrected Kon and Cassie (Wonder Girl) have a heart to heart about the fact that Tim and Cassie ‘connected’ during his absence and Connor stresses that this doesn’t bother him or make him feel negatively towards either of them at all, because hello, he was literally dead at the time, why would he mind that two of the people he loves most in the world sought comfort in each other? Yeah, that issue? Literally came out BEFORE Tim even became Red Robin.
I MEAN. I’m just saying, when people constantly take shots at Dick’s choices during this period because of how much Tim had lost before Bruce already, in order to shift focus away from the fact that Dick lost Bruce every bit as much as Tim did......and you repeatedly emphasize the SAME three names as the focal point of Tim’s losses while paying no acknowledgment whatsoever to everything Dick lost at the exact same time Tim lost these three.....it quickly becomes kiiiiiiinda relevant in my opinion THAT TWO OF THE THREE NAMES CONSTANTLY MENTIONED AS BEING TIM’S LOSSES ARE NO LONGER EVEN LOST BY THE TIME THE SUBJECT COMES UP. Again, I’m just saying! Pettily, mind you! I am aware of the pettiness, I just beg awareness of like *again gesticulates wildly at all of the above* ALL THAT!
LOL.
But I digress.
5) When Bruce was believed dead while he was lost in the timestream. Again, Dick didn’t just lose the father who had been the only parent in his life for almost TWICE as long as his first parents......this was coupled with the loss of numerous other sources of stability in Dick’s life. There’s the matter of his personal sense of identity and self-expression....Dick FOUGHT against becoming Batman, trying to handle Gotham in Bruce’s absence as Nightwing for as long as he could, because he knew being Batman was very much NOT going to be good for him. He put so much of himself into building his identity as Nightwing, establishing himself in that role, that self-image, that yes, I maintain it was an actual LOSS for Dick, to feel like he had no choice but to give that up and everything it meant to him and his own life, in order to essentially live Bruce’s life for him in his absence. 
Because it wasn’t just being Batman that Dick was struggling with at this time....he also had to act as the patriarch to the Wayne family, essentially raise Bruce’s ten year old son, step into Bruce’s old role in Wayne Enterprises, all while getting no acknowledgment for any of this, for literally LIVING his father’s life instead of the life Dick had worked so hard to build for HIMSELF....because of course Dick’s actions and struggles couldn’t even be advertised beyond the family and close friends, because the whole point of him doing all this was so that nobody else even realized that Bruce wasn’t really there anymore. Dick didn’t just assume Bruce’s responsibilities. Dick assumed Bruce’s life, so thoroughly that most people didn’t even put together that Bruce was ‘dead,’ between Dick handling Bruce’s actual roles and responsibilities while Hush made public appearances as him. 
Like, when you’re living someone else’s life so completely that nobody can tell they’re even gone....how on earth does that leave any time or space for you to have ANY kind of life of your OWN, y’know? Not to mention the fact that like in so many times previously....all this meant that Dick couldn’t even afford to let his grief for his own losses show, because he wasn’t supposed to be grieving any losses in the first place, that was the whole point of the con!
Additionally, couple this with the fact that throughout this time period, Dick didn’t have Tim to lean on at all, because it was never that Dick kicked Tim out or neglected him or didn’t care....he’d actively stressed how much he needed Tim, because the partner Tim was convinced Dick chose ‘over’ him - Dick was the first one to admit back then that he DIDN’T trust Damian yet, couldn’t afford to, because he was all too aware that Damian didn’t give a fuck about him yet and couldn’t be guaranteed to step in to have Dick’s back - because that required mutual trust that Dick literally just hadn’t had time to build yet. And add to THAT the fact that during this time, Jason was actively antagonizing the family and Dick in particular at every turn, trying to bring them all down and basically write over what all of them saw as Bruce’s legacy with Jason’s own version of what he thought that should look like.
Also also, take into account that unlike how often we see fanon depict Dick as just too stubborn or proud to ask for help, there’s the fact that he actually had very few avenues TO ask for help! As already established, he DID ask Tim for help. Not like Jason was an option at this time, and Dick’s friends weren’t actually just sitting waiting in the wings and groaning about the fact that Dick was trying to do all of this solo....nah, they kinda had their own problems, which Dick was all too aware of?
Like the fact that in the wake of Final Crisis, it wasn’t just Bruce that was believed lost. Many other key Leaguers like Martian Manhunter were dead or lost, with others struggling to fill the gaps left in their absence. Cry For Justice happened right after Final Crisis too....that story where Lian was murdered? So it wasn’t like Dick was remotely going to try leaning on Roy when Roy had just lost his freaking DAUGHTER and very much wasn’t handling it well (and not to overshadow Roy’s loss at ALL, but please let’s not act like Dick - who had literally been the person to put a baby Lian in Roy’s arms for the first time and had known that girl for pretty much her entire life - like, it shouldn’t be used to detract from Roy’s loss at all, but it shouldn’t have to, to just acknowledge that Lian’s loss right at this exact time was painful as fuck to Dick, who’d loved his niece like crazy.)
The pattern of compounding, concurrent losses in Dick’s life. I’m just saying. Its there.
And it extends into the New 52 as well, where Forever Evil came right on the heels of Dick losing his circus in THIS continuity to the Joker, just as a way to hurt him in Death of A Family. And with the aftermath of Forever Evil and Dick’s own literal death, being like....the complete loss of Dick’s entire life, even though he was revived quickly. That didn’t mean he got to live HIS life though, since Dick Grayson was believed dead and he was told had to remain so, so its like fuck whatever he actually wanted to do as he went about on the Spyral mission aka something that pinched his own sense of morality and personal agenda at every turn and was kinda the last thing a therapist would recommend for a trauma recovery period, lol. And like, for all the focus that was paid to how Dick’s family were hurt because they believed they’d lost him when he was actually alive, let’s not forget that for all intents and purposes, Dick DID lose his family in the wake of his resurrection because he was flat out told over and over that due to what ‘he’d LET happen to him’ he was an ACTIVE danger to them, and thus wasn’t allowed by Bruce to contact any of them or lean on them to any degree, until Bruce got amnesia and stopped blocking Dick’s pleas to return home by just not being there to pick up the secret phone line at all. 
(And omg, the obliviousness that just EMANATES off the hot takes that Dick had a ‘choice’ in all this and he still CHOSE to do what Bruce told him....like. LOLOL, stop being pissy about me bringing up the term abuse apologism when its literal victim blaming to paint the guy who had to be beaten into ‘agreeing’ to the Spyral mission in the immediate wake of the trauma of DYING, all while his father vocally blamed him for his own suffering and the ‘threat’ he now posed to his family, keying directly into the guilt complex Bruce knows damn well is at the core of most of Dick’s motivations.....fucking please. There’s no choice in all that. That’s active emotional, mental and physical abuse aimed at directly manipulating Dick’s actions, delivered by the guy who knows Dick best in the world and whose approval - particularly when Dick is at absolute rock bottom aka Current Location - matters more to Dick than just about anything because his sense of self-worth has more in common with dog shit than actual dog shit does. Or something. Idk. That analogy got away from me. But like. You get it.)
BUT. I. DIE. GRESS. (I guess).
Aaaaaaanyway, so yeah! That repeating pattern throughout Dick’s life of ‘loss? What loss (singular)? My losses only come in groups, lolol, fuuuuuun’ - mmmm. Yeah. So that’s what’s on MY brain right now. Thoughts?
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awesomerextyphoon · 3 years
Note
I love your writing. May I have Loki x Reader? The reader is a sweet, delicate dreamer. Loki has come to conquer the world. He saw her and wants her to become his Queen of Midgard. He kidnapped her. She pleads with him to let her go while she is tied to the bed. He caresses her hair and says she will love him (he doesn't want to use the scepter on her).
***Can I have White Reader x Loki, please? Loki just escaped from the Helicarrier. He saw the reader who is a sweet and innocent creature. Loki doesn't want her dead when he will start battle. Loki kidnaps her and locks her up to keep her safe. When he wins, Loki tells her that she will become his queen.***
Hi! I decided to combine the prompts and make the reader plus-sized. I hope you enjoy! 
His Match
Pairing: Dark!Loki x Plus-Sized Female Reader 
Summary: You’ve tried to live by your grandmother’s rule  of being kind to others, even when the world gives you the middle finger. What if a Norse God decided reward you by becoming his Queen?
Word Count: 1,745
Rating: 18+/Mature
Warning: Kidnapping, Implied Dub/Non-Con, Angst, and some Violence
A/N: Thanks goes to the amazing @angrythingstarlight for beta reading this!
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Loki was walking around New York City, scouting Stark Tower making sure the final preparations of his plan was perfect when something, or rather someone, caught his eye.
She walked out of what looked like a women’s clothing store with a forlorn smile. She was plumper than the average female Midgardian last time he frequented the realm. His eyes did not miss the enticing curves that lied beneath her clothes despite her efforts to ensconce herself into the background.
She was a vision.
Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments and it felt like time stopped. His heart quickened in his chest and a rush of blood surged to his groin.
He had to follow her. His Elskan.
“Barton, tell the others I’ll be out for a few more hours. Proceed as planned.”
–––––
He found you entering a rather destitute apartment complex. Its lights and foundation were a bit unsound and gave off a seedy ambience.
Loki grimaced at her living conditions. When he ruled Midgard, she would have only the best.
Casting a simple concealment spell, Loki entered her fairly small apartment. She began mixing ingredients together for what looked to be ‘chocolate chip cookies’. He smiled as he inhaled the sweet aroma knowingly; Asgard had only recently started consuming the sweet. She soon laid out a batch of thick, scrumptious cookies with a satisfied expression.
They reminded him of better times when he and Thor would sneak into the kitchens and swipe confections from under the baker’s nose. Loki chuckled at the memory; those were the days.
Not ten minutes after she placed the last cookie onto the cooling rack did her phone ring. It was her mother. Loki felt dread coming off his Elskan in waves.
Loki could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation, if you could call it that. Her mother constantly nagged her about her weight, life choices, and her ‘pathetic’ attempts to get over her ex-boyfriend. His heart broke as he saw tears begin to fall and the croaking of her voice as she bid the odious creature goodnight.
Several minutes after she cried herself to sleep, Loki entered his Elskan’s bedroom. He spied her diary on the nightstand and decided to read a few pages.
He was fuming within two minutes.
How dare that caustic pig sow treat his Elskan, her own daughter, in a such ghastly manner! Her ‘perfect’ sister always slighting and reminding her on how ‘she’ll never be good enough for anything’ and her father’s callous indifference to her cries for help and solace only added to his rage. Combined with the way her ex-boyfriend, the repugnant gnat, treated her (he cheated on her with someone who ‘wasn’t built like a blimp’ and ‘the only thing you thing you had going for you were your tits’) and he wanted to speed up the invasion just to watch the horror become engrained onto their faces.
And yet, she endeavored to treat everyone with kindness harkening back to your grandmother. She strived to be the one light in one’s otherwise miserable existence.
Well, she can be his light as his Elskan and Queen.
Loki took a deep, cleansing breath. He needed to stick to the plan. When he conquers Midgard, she will be their queen. She will grace the undeserving masses with her elegance and beauty and he will worship her every chance he got.
He just had to make her see it that way.
Gently, the light forest green glow of Loki's magic flowed from his hand to the crown of her head like a halo. He leaned in and kissed her cheek with a smile as he left.
He hated to leave her, but he had a realm to conquer. Though he hoped she’d enjoy the introductory gift.
––––––
You were in your grandmother’s living room; spacious yet comfy with all of her quirkiness and splendor included. It was odd since you haven’t been in her house since your parents sold after her death seven years ago. You tearfully smiled remembering all the good times you had with her, the only member of your family you gave you any true warmth or love.
Her piano was in the corner, barely aged a day with all the music sheets, pens, a light scratches you came to know and love. You took your seat and started to play the piano version of one of your favorite movie themes.
You were so engrossed in playing, you failed to notice someone materializing into your dreamscape.
“What a lovely tune! What is it called?” A smooth, honey-tinged voice broke your concentration.
You turned your head and saw what had to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He was tall (6’ 10” / 2.08m) easily towering over any man you’ve ever met. He had smooth alabaster skin, light rose undertones with a little blue-red just under his eyes. His cheekbones were immaculate, somehow looked sharp and soft at the same time. He had thin lips with a fair plumpness to the bottom one. His slicked-back, shoulder-length Ponzu/Shadow Purple hair kissed his lean, battle-hardened physique (if the way he’s filling out his outfit was anyway to go by). All of this deliciousness was clothed in a casual Palm Green suit with a Glossy Black tie and shoes.
It took you a full minute to stop ogling him, “Wha-What did you say?”
“I apologize for disturbing you, my lady. I asked what you were playing.” His voice had hints of mirth which was odd considering his appearance. Most people in his league would give you a thinly veiled sneer of disgust, but he seemed genuinely interested.
“Um, well, it’s called Merry-Go-Round of Life from the movie Howl’s Moving Castle. It’s a favorite of mine. I used to play it all the time until…” You trailed off, not wanting to revisit how your grandmother died.
“You do not have to tell me if it brings you such displeasure.”
“Thank you, um…”
“Loki. Please, call me Loki.”
“Loki,” he inwardly moaned at the way you said his name, “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Please, continue playing.”
And you did for what felt like hours, all while your sexy dream companion asked about your hopes, dreams, anything he could think of really. You in turn asked him about his life and interests; you even laughed at a story of his brother having to dress like a bride to get his hammer back.
You soon became enamored with Loki. It was refreshing to be noticed with actual interest, not ridicule or pity. He seemed to taken with you as well, if his gentle caresses and not-so-subtle lustful glances he gave you were any indication.
You were glad this was just a dream. You didn’t want your heart to break like last time.
Loki was about to lean in for a kiss when everything faded to black.
–––––
You jolted up from the mattress and screamed once you realized you weren’t in your room.
No, this room was…spectacular for lack of better word. It had high ceilings, large windows, ornate chandeliers, and magnificent balcony. Luxurious dark greens, gold, and black covered the room in splendor. Extravagant pieces of furniture dripped with precious stones metal worthy of queens or royal mistresses of old.
“What is this place?”
You tried to leave but was forced back onto the bed by a force field. You tried to take calm breaths just like your therapist taught you in order to make an escape plan.
No sooner did you calm down than the door open to reveal-
“Loki!”
Only Loki was wearing radically different clothing; looked like he walked right out of a fantasy epic. And yet, his smile was enchanting.
“What am I doing here? I need to go back home.”
He tutted in response, “That would not be wise, Elskan Mín. This world is mine now and this is safest place to be.” He was right. His brother’s team of desperate souls were no match for his cunning and Chitauri Forces. Midgard’s pathetic leaders gave up in less than an hour once their beloved ‘heroes’ were defeated, broken, and laid bare before them.
“You can’t be serious, Loki. I need to leave.”
“And go where? Like I said, this realm is mine now. That rat poison of a dwelling is no more and I have dealt with your ‘family’ as needed.” Loki smirked at the memories. It gave him extreme joy squeezing the life out of that worthless pig of mother, breaking every bone in your father’s body one by one, and leaving your ‘perfect’ sister alive with partially rotten skin. Not even the scavengers or maggots would find or want the remains of the scurvy insect of an ex-boyfriend, though he was still alive..just barely.
Well, at least until he decided on how to destroy the blight of creature.
Though he did make sure to leave two of your real friend were treated well. You needed to have someone to talk to while he was away.
You gazed into his Spearmint colored eyes in one last attempt, “Please Loki! If you love me, you’ll let me go!”
For a split second, you could’ve sworn you saw hurt in his eyes and he glided across the room. You back hit the headboard in you sad efforts to get away from him.
“Elskan Mín, I promise to always love, cherish, and worship every part of your glorious body. You will become Midgard’s queen and my goddess. No. One. Will. Ever. Demean. Or. Slight. You. Again.” he punctuated each word of the last sentence with soft, open-mouthed kisses to your face, neck, shoulders, and collarbone.
You tried to fight him, but it felt so good. His touches sent shots of lightning to your core; plus his lips and fingers were cook to the touch provided excellent contrast to the spike in heat.
You started crying realizing how pathetic this was, to have the first person to profess such feelings be a kidnapper. You were actually contemplating whether or not he was telling the truth.
Loki sensed your sorrow and kissed your tears away. “I know this might be ‘difficult’ at first, but you will love me in time.” He hoped he did not have to use the scepter.
You thought about your dream and all of the effort he was putting into this. It was frightening, but it came from a place of love.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay.
–––––––
@lookiamtrying @jtargaryen18 @sapphirescrolls @jobean12-blog @sweeterthanthis @gotnofucks @mcudarklibrary@saiyanprincessswanie @golden-ariess @navegandoaciegas @stargazingfangirl18 @opheliadawnwalker3 @tilltheendwilliwritee  @imanuglywombat @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @navybrat817 @anyatheladyclown @buckysbunny @nacho-bucky @donutloverxo @stephanieromanoff @threeminutesoflife @angrybirdcr​ @angrythingstarlight @chixkencxrry @hurricanerin @marvelfansworld @the-soulofdevil @captain–barnes @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thebanprincess @winteralpine @leslie2898 @buttercandy16 @propertyofpoeandbucky @hevans-angel @thorfanficwriter @afriendlyblackhottie @avintagekiss24 @syntheticavenger @phant0m-queen @tuiccim​ @blueberrythor​ @river-soul @justthehiddleswrites @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog
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Text
Pokemon Teams for Fictional Characters pt. 2
Damian Wayne
(Also, I'm not including move sets because in my headcannon Pokemon do remember all their old moves. But humans choose to only use four)
For this AU I'm having the Wayne's own the Gotham City Gym, which specializes in Dark types. Most of the cannon events still happened. Just with a few tweaks here and there. (Dick's 20, Jason's 16, Cass is 15 Tim's 15 but younger than Cass and Damian's 13 because I love AUs where there closer in age).
Anyway here we go!
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First things first in the Pokemon Universe his alias wouldn't be Robin since they don't exist. Instead I think it would be Rookidee, since thats the closest Pokemon to a Robin.
His Partner Pokemon and ace would be a Gligar
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Name: Goliath
Gender: Male
Why: Gligar screams Goliath (his Batdragon) plus the coloring of his evolutions matches with Dami's Robin and Batman outfits
Story: He found Goliath while climbing a mountain for his training. At the time he was four and Goliath was a hatching. Damian ended up giving him some food, seeing that the hatching was hungry.
Grateful, the Gligar followed him hoping to return the favor.
When Damian's hand got broken on that same trip, Goliath was the one to help him finish his mission and get home safely.
Talia was impressed that Damian could tame a wild Pokemon without catching it, so she allowed him to keep him as his first Pokemon.
-----
Next he would have a Meowth
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Name: Alfred
Gender: Female
Why: This one has to do with its evolution. Persian are said to only be loyal to trainers it likes and that it takes a lot to get them to like you. Their also said to be prissy and uptight. This reminded me of Damian. How it took forever for him to trust his brothers and his own snobby attitude. Thus I think it fits.
Story: After coming to live with his father Damian didn't know how to act. He saw his "brothers" and father treating their Pokemon so different than how the League did. They all trained hard. But, there was something eles: warm praise for a job well done, asking for insight on a case (they had taught their bipedal pokemon sighn language) and comfort on a bad day. His father and brothers treated their Pokemon like... people
In the League Pokemon where the lowest soldier, lower than the slaves or concubines. They trained, ate then they had to and got in their ball.
He had been a little more lenient in his training with Goliath. When asked he said that he was still a baby and he had to take things slow in this stage or he might develop too much muscle mass and be unable to fly.
He had kept him out of his ball with the excuse of developing muscle mass at a proper pace.
He liked Goliath's company. The Gligar was a good companion. But on the same level as another person?
He had expressed these thoughts to Pennyworth, the only person in the house to give him a straight answer when he needed it.
Pennyworth had explained to him that some people love to hold power over others and that Pokemon where an easy target, since they couldn't communicate their emotions as clearly as people could.
"Think of Mistress Cain. She sometimes cannot communicate with words, but we know that she's intelligent. But some people see her as less than intelligent and treat her as such because of the power it gives them."
Two weeks later Damian would come across a group of teenagers attempting to shave a Meowth. The Pokemon was little more than skin and bone and crying out on pain. So, Damian broke their fingers and shaved part of their heads for good measure.
He kept the Meowth and named her after the man who taught him about the abuse of power.
---
Next, a Poochyena
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Name: Titus
Gender: Male
Why: These Pokemon and their evolution are ruthless with their pray, and only obey trainers with external skill.
Story: Raven gave Damian Titus as a gift. She said that she rescued him from an underground fighting ring (where the battles are to the death). He was still to young to battle so he didn't need much rehabilitation. The other Pokemon there though...
---
Now we have a Type Null
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Name: Heretic
Gender: ???
Why: This Pokemon was created in lab, and artificial designed for the purpose of fighting, just like Damian. True I could have given him Mewtwo, but that cat seems to fit Kon more.
Story: Damian's mother had spent years creating Type: Null with the purpose of being able to kill any target. As a last test she wanted to see which of her creations was suppirrior. So she sent the Type Null out to (try and) kill her son.
Damian, with the rest of his team, beat the Pokemon but couldn't kill it. He had long since vowed to wash the blood from his hands. Instead he offered his hand to it and asked it to join him.
---
Here we have the hardest to explain... Mimikyu
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Name: Habibi (I hope I spelled that right)
Gender: Female
Why: Damian is complex, he wants to be accepted and loved just like Mimikyu but dosent know how. Both try to mimic others in order to get that love, Damian his father and Mimikyu Pikachu. So I see this as Damian's spirit Pokemon in a way.
Story: He didn't know why it was so hard to fit in. Gods know he tried. But... little things confused him. Like how eveyone could understand each other without words or singhing. He had no problems with that on a battlefield, but in day to day life; it felt like he was on a separate server.
Like how Todd knew at breakfast with just a look that Drake was in a bad mood and how to help. Or how Grayson could audomadicly tell what kind of day at school the rest of them had withen a few minutes. Hell even Drake could tell what grunts ment what from father! Which ment good job, Which ment I'm glade your okay, or frustration either at them or at a case (Cass didn't surprise him, she had to learn how to communicate without words and watch body language and micro expressions).
School was no better; sometimes it was to load or bright othertimes, when everyone was doing a test, it felt to quiet. But, to much or to little, Damian was always aware of every movement, every sound. It was like the very instincts that saved his life every night where turned against him.
He turned to his nearly forgotten childhood habits to distract himself from everything around him. That only led to more whisper shouting and what even he could tell where displeased glares with a grunt of "fucking tapping" or a snap of "stop!" He knew it was disrupting but it was all be could do to drown out the noise or silence.
On one particularly bad day at school; apparently during one of their tests one of his classmates had had enough of Damian's tapping and decided to make a scene.
There was some yelling from the kid. A few cries in agreement. Before the teacher had gotten hem to settle down. He had demanded that Damian look him in the eye and when he finally did told him to stop with the tapping or else he would be sent to the office, Gym Leaders son or not.
He was the last to finish that test where he normally finished first. The silence had been to load!!
After that clusterfuck Damian finally headed home. He had texted Grayson saying that he was meeting a friend somewhere to work on a project and to not pick him up. In truth he didn't want his brother reading what kind of day he had had. He needed some time to himself.
That was how he found himself in a nearby park. It was filled with plenty of sounds that didn't suffocate him and the fall leaves where soothing to his eyes. Damian had Titus out of his ball as company, knowing that the pup loved park walks.
They had been walking for an hour when they came across a box set off just on the edge of the trail. "Free to Good Homes" was written on the side in black sharpie.
No sound was coming from inside, so he assumed that the had all been taken. Until Titus went closer sniffing at the seemingly empty box.
"Pooch Pooch"
"Hmmm... what is is it boy?" He asked as he walked closer to his Pokemon and the Box. Damian hoped he was wrong. It was cruel to leave a baby Pokemon all alone, especially since the weather was getting colder by the day.
Inside the box was in fact a lone Pokemon. At first glance it looked like a Pikachu. But something was off. It looked more like a doll than a living creature. If it wasn't for the small chirps it let out and slight way that it was shivering from the cold Damian would have written it off as a toy. No wonder it got left behind...
Damian reached down and picked up the mystery Pokemon as gently as he could.
"Come on beloved, lets go home."
He tucked the Pokemon in his jacket to warm it up before reaching for his phone to call Grayson for a ride home.
That night Damian locked himself away, even skipped patrol, and spent a sleepless night learning everything he could about his newest Pokemon.
---
That was inspired by this comic
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Finaly, for his last spot Eevee!!
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Name: Omni
Gender: Female
Why: I'm going to have all the Batfam members have an Eeveelution. This branch and the Batfam are both growing consistently. We all have our favorites but we love them all the same. So I think it fits.
Story: Everyone in the family had an Eevee or one of its evolutions. Damian's Father said that Eevee was the Wayne family symbol, it was potential, the ability to become whatever you wanted.
Though it surprised Damian that the Wayne symbol wasn't a Noibat or Noivern (Batman's ace) at first he eventually understood the logic in choosing such a Pokemon to represent the family name. That only made things harder for him being the only one not having one. Did they not truly see him as family?
On the one year anniversary of Damian arriving at The Mannor, his family through a small party. Pennyworth made his favorite foods, The Mannor was decorated in tacky streamers (Graysons' idea) and they watched some of Damian's favorite fims, their Pokemon curled up with them. His father had offered to take the day off from the gym. Until Todd suggested that Damian take on the challengers.
The Gotham gym was part of his heritage. Damian had been training for the day that he could finally help weed out the weak challengers just like his siblings sometimes did (think the battles you do before challenging a gym leader in the games).
On that day, if the challengers agreed to it, their final battle wasn't with Bruce Wayne the Dark Knight but instead his son. Most accepted thinking that it would be an easy win, that they had lucked out in not having to battle one of the stongest Gym Leaders in the League and could still get the Shadow Badge.
Those poor fools.
Damian was only allowed to use Alfred, Titus and Habibi since he used Goliath and Heretic primarily as Rookidee.
Damian fought seven trainers that day in 3v3 fights. Only two of them got the badge.
With the day overwith and the night rising, so did Gothams' protecters.
The night ended with exhausted body's and adrenaline crashes. Damian was ready to slip into a mini coma from the day he had but before he could head upstairs to The Mannor...
"Not so fast baby bat." Graysons' voice called out to him. "We got one more surprise for you."
Damian raised his eyebrow at that. What else could they do? His father came back from the locker rooms where he had been desuiting, it always took him the longest because of his "old man bones" as Todd said.
"Son," his father said "its Wayne tradition to get your first Pokemon when you turn ten years old. I missed that with you." He paused, eyes briefly shifting to the floor before they snapped back on Damian's face. "Luckily there's one tradition we didn't miss. When you've lived at The Mannor for a year or the adoption papers get finalized, I give my children this..."
He pulled a Poke'ball out of his poket and handed to Damian. "Go on son, let them out."
He did
Staring at him was his own Eevee.
---
AN: All of Damian's Pokemon (sans maybe Omni, I'm thinking of leaving her as an Eevee) will eventually evolve. Eventually.
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silkling · 3 years
Text
This is part two of an ask box fic. For part one, click below.
Part 1
———————————————————————————————————
Cody had been expecting to see Blades sitting in front of the TV when he and the others returned. He had not been expecting to see the large bot the team had rescued holding the copter while said copter made a sharp, painful sounding noise. When he, his siblings, and the other three bots had returned to the firehouse, they’d been chatting and teasing Heatwave about his increasing frustration with his difficulty at contacting Optimus. Then when they’d gotten down to the bunker, the three Cybertronians had abruptly stopped talking, before they’d looked concerned and panicked and rushed ahead. The humans had followed as quickly as they could, and the group arrived to see Blades in the large bot’s grasp, making that noise that Cody didn’t know the meaning behind.
The large bot noticed the, first, and a sharp, red gaze snapped to the group. “More younglings, little one? I suppose I should not be surprised, the Rescue Force did tend to match teams within the same age bracket.” he remarked.
Cody didn’t know what a “youngling” was by Cybertronian standards, but to human ears it sounded like the new bot was calling Sigma-17 kids. Or at the very least, younger than adults.
Heatwave clearly didn��t care about what the bot had to say. “You let Blades go!” he snarled, stepping forward and looking ready to tackle the larger bot.
Blades had startled and gone silent when the bigger flyer spoke, but at Heatwave’s words he jumped and pulled himself free, gathering his pedes under him and standing between his team and the larger bot. “Wait!” he protested. “He wasn’t hurting me. I was kinda…collapsing, and he kept me front falling.”
Cody frowned. “Why were you collapsing?”
“He told me something that Optimus should have told us a long time ago. Something very bad.”
“And what was that?” Kade snipped, eyes narrowed.
“I’d be curious to know too.” Dad’s voice came from behind them. Cody turned to see his father stepping out of the elevator. “But first, maybe we should sit down. Something tells me this news isn’t going to be pretty.”
“You are a clever human.” The stranger rumbled. “I believe that would indeed be best.”
Heatwave growled, but nodded stiffly. “This way.”
He led them to the lounge area, where everyone got settled and comfortable. The stranger sat on the floor, Blades and Boulder took the couch, and Dani and Graham sat beside their respective partners. Heatwave sat leaning against the couch, and Kade sat leaning against him. Chase pulled over a Cybertronian sized beanbag Graham and Boulder had made, and Dad squished in next to him. Cody, after a moment of consideration, stepped in and sat in front of the newcomer. The large bot shot him an arched brow, and the human just smiled and waved in response.
“So.” Heatwave grunted. “What’s this news?”
“We’re the last Rescue Bots.” Blades cut in, voice quiet.
Chase was frowning. “That is not entirely news. Optimus implied as much when we asked him about the rest of the Rescue Force. I assume the rest of the Rescue Teams were folded into the Autobot ranks when the War began.”
Boulder frowned. “That would make sense, though I have a hard time believing the others would just….abandon in the oaths of neutrality we all took.”
“They did not.” The stranger cut in. “When the War began, the Rescue Force remained neutral. They aided and rescued mechs from both factions. Megatron offered them the chance to join the Decepticons, and they refused. They wished to hold true to their oaths to serve and protect all who needed it. Megatron did not take kindly to the refusal. In order to make an example of them, and also to remove a faction that would aid his enemies, he destroyed the Rescue Force Headquarters and offlined every Rescue Team there. Survivors of the initial attack, as well as those who were simply not present, were subsequently hunted down and slaughtered.” he said bluntly.
There was dead silence in the bunker, with horror growing palpable in the air.
“Dreadwing.” Blades’s voice was weak. “Maybe that was a bit blunt.” He glanced at his teammates. “I think he’s right. I found a mention of the “end of the Rescue Force” in one of High Tide’s data pads. Plus…remember what Optimus said when he first saw us? “I was not aware Rescue Teams were still active.” That’s what he told us.”
Dreadwing. So that was the stranger’s name. Still, he was more worried about the bots. Boulder looked horrified and increasingly sick. Heatwave looked stunned and angry and grief-stricken all at once. Chase looked disbelieving. None of them seemed to be able to protest what they’d been told.
“Dreadwing, is it?” Dad’s voice rose in the silence. “You seem to know a lot about the topic.”
“Any Cybertronian who was alive at the time knows about the Fall of the Rescue Force. It was a great tragedy.”
“That’s why Optimus is so adamant about keeping us here.” Blades whispered. “He knew. He probably thought we’d be in danger if any other bot knew what we are.”
“You would be.” Dreadwing agreed. “If Lord Megatron were to discover your existence, he would send his forces to see you slain, even if it meant razing this island to the ground to do so. Perhaps he would even keep you alive long enough to force Optimus Prime and his team watch your destruction.” He stated, blunt and hard.
Everyone collectively flinched at that, looking sick and horrified at the prospect. Cody could relate. The way Dreadwing discussed such violence and such horrors…it was so casual. He didn’t know what to make of it. The Rescue Bots didn’t speak so bluntly about that sort of thing, but he knew that was due to lack of exposure to that level of violence. Optimus and High Tide were both also very…sanitized, in the way they spoke of the War. It wasn’t necessarily bad that Dreadwing didn’t care to censor himself, but Cody certainly wasn’t used to it. Just the idea of his friends being stolen away and killed to make a point made him sick.
Graham’s voice broke the silence. “Lord Megatron.” he sound, sounding strained. “You called him “Lord Megatron”. I can’t imagine any Autobot calling the leader of their enemy something like “lord”. Which means you’re not an Autobot. You’re a Decepticon.”
There was a second of silence, and then Heatwave surged forward and yanked Cody away from Dreadwing. As one, the Rescue Bots, baring Blades for some reason, lowered the windshields in their chests to let their partners climb in to safety. As for Blades…he just stood, carefully maneuvering Dani out of range of danger and stepping forward before anyone else could do anything. Cody, still dazed and now strapped into Heatwave’s passenger seat, could only watch in confusion.
“Everybody stop and calm down!” The copter snapped, his rotors rattling against his back. The other bots were still, and Dreadwing hadn’t moved from his seat on the floor.
The large bot shifted his gaze to Boulder, or rather, Boulder’s chest where Graham was tucked away. “You are correct.” he said, voice somber. “I am a Decepticon. Or rather, I was. It was Megatron himself who gave me the wound that nearly offlined me.” He paused. “I am afraid I am still teaching myself to shed the loyalty that once bound me to him. I spent many millennia calling him my Lord, and it is a habit that is very difficult to break.” He tilted his head. “Regardless, I assure you I have no desire to return to the Decepticons. I would be destroyed if I were to return.”
That seemed to calm the bots down, and Dani frowned from where Blades had stashed her. “You knew, didn’t you partner?”
Blades sighed. “I suspected.” he admitted. “I read in the data pads that Optimus left for us that after the fall of Vos, most Seekers joined the Deceptions. Dreadwing is a Seeker. I put the pieces together.”
Dreadwing bristled at the mention of “Vos”, though Cody didn’t know what that was. “Vos was destroyed and razed to the ground by Autobot forces, little flyer.” he rumbled. “Seekers did not join the Autobots when the War began because most of those who did were the same who had spent generations abusing and ostracizing any and all flight-frames.” he said bluntly. “It is why most flyers joined the Deceptions. They did not wish to be treated as lesser simply because of a different vehicle mode.”
Dani blinked. “Huh. So bigots exist on all planets, then.” she sighed. “The War…are you saying it started as a social revolution?”
“Just so.” Dreadwing nodded at her. “In the beginning, it was not Optimus Prime who led the Autobots. It was his predecessor, a mech called Sentinel. Sentinel was backed by the Senate. The same Senate that had created laws to force mechs to live only by the function of their frame types, and the same Senate that allowed flight-frames to be treated as filth. When Megatron rose up initially, it was to fight for justice and put an end to the caste system.”
This was news to all the humans. They’d heard about the War, of course, but hearing about how it started and why it had began put new context on things.
“The Senate refused to listen, and thus the War began. Megatron initially led as non-violently as possible, but then any who harbored even slight anti-Senate mentalities began to be culled by Autobot Enforcers. Flyers were confined to the ground by force when not in Vos, and in Vos they were not permitted to leave the city.” The Seeker continued. “What started as a fight for equality turned into Decepticons fighting for their right simply to live. And then the Senate was assassinated, and Sentinel destroyed, and Optimus Prime took his place. By then, it was too late for things to return to peace. Too many Decepticons feared they would be killed for the crime of wanting a better life and fighting for it, and too many Autobots were bitter and angry towards the chaos the Decepticon had wrought. And so, the War continued.” he sighed.
There was silence for a long moment, and the Rescue Bots finally returned to their previous positions, though they didn’t let the humans out just yet. Blades sat on the couch, and Dani shifted over to perch on his shoulder. Everyone present was silent for a moment, taking in what they had been told. This…changed things. Certainly, the Decepticons had done horrible things. The fact that they had slaughtered the Rescue Bots was a prime example. But to learn why they had risen and where they had come from…it put a lot into perspective.
“Blades.” Dani spoke up. “You’re a flyer. Did you run into any of that sort of thing Dreadwing was talking about, before your stasis nap?” she asked.
Blades sputtered. “Well, no.” he seemed embarrassed. “You know I wasn’t always a flyer. I was a ground-frame, on Cybertron. Sure, I’d heard about the anti-flyer and anti-Seeker stuff but I never experienced it. Dreadwing is telling the truth, though. Cybertron…didn’t have the best social system. I did know about the civil unrest, thought it hadn’t grown to a revolution quite yet the last time I was on Cybertron.” he said, sheepish.
Before one of the humans could ask for an elaboration, Dreadwing was straightening up. “Youngling. You mean to tell me you were able to shift from a ground-frame to a flight-frame by scanning a new vehicle mode?”
Blades paused. “Yes?”
Dreadwing was quiet, before uttering what Cody was very sure was a curse. “You do realize that is an extraordinarily rare ability? Even triple changers are more common than that.”
“Really?” Blades, and even all the other bots, seemed stunned by this revelation.
“Yes.” Dreadwing was frowning. “Most Cybertronian t-cogs will only allow for scanning and transformation into a vehicle mode that is compatible with your root mode. To be able to change from a grounder to a flyer by simply scanning a new vehicle mode…it speaks of a highly malleable and adaptable base frame type. The kind one expects from the tales of the Shifters of old.”
That made the Bots perk up, and Cody made a note to ask about that later. For now, he opted to stay quiet and let the Cybertronians figure this out. And it seemed his family had the same idea. Even Kade, for once.
“Are you saying I’m a Shifter?” Blades seemed frantic at the idea.
“No.” Dreadwing shook his head. “But perhaps you have coding descended from them.” He sighed. “Your ability, little one, is one I have only ever heard of on Cybertron. Many would be jealous of you. I know many flyers would not give up their flight for anything, but I know of many more who would have wanted your ability desperately in order to change to a ground-frame and escape the derision.”
Blades blinked, then looked down. “Oh.” he whispered.
Heatwave growled. “Look, it’s all well and good that we’ve figured this out, but now what? You were a Decepticon! You could hurt us or someone else on the island!”
Dreadwing looked unimpressed. “I have no intentions of doing any such thing, though I will leave if you prefer.”
“But won’t Megatron kill you?” Boulder asked.
“He will try. I will simply have to avoid him.”
“Then why not join the Autobots?” Chase asked.
The Seeker’s expression went dark. “No. While Optimus Prime is honorable, the Autobots have not always been such. I have lost too much to their regime to submit myself to the brand, even if it is different now.”
No one seemed to know what to say to that. After a long moment, the humans were finally let out of the cabs of their respective partners, and Cody saw an odd look in his Dad’s eye.
“Hoe about this, then.” Dad said. “We don’t feel right about sending you off where you might be killed. You don’t want to fight the Autobots, you don’t want to fight for the Decepticons. Am I right so far?”
Dreadwing simply bowed his head.
“Do you even want to fight in the War at all, anymore?”
Dreadwing paused. “The Decepticons committed a crime which I must put right. But other than that, no.” There was a pause. “Even with my end goal, it is not the Decepticons at large I wish to see defeated. It is only one mech among their ranks.”
Dad hummed slowly, then nodded. “I’m guessing you’re not ready to tell us the details, so I won’t even ask.” he said. “Here’s what I propose: you stay here on Griffin Rock. You don’t let yourself be seen by the humans here, we do have a cover to maintain after all. You can think and plan your next steps here. That lets us keep an eye on you, and keeps our minds at ease that you’re not out there running for your life from a tyrant. You just can’t destroy anything or hurt anyone or cause trouble.”
Cody was surprised by the offer, and clearly Dreadwing was too. What did his Dad see in this large bot that was making him take a chance like this? Cody wasn’t against it, but it was a little unusual.
Dreadwing seemed to think over the offer, before he nodded. “I will accept your terms.”
Dad relaxed, and before Kade could protest he waved his children along. “Now come on, everyone. It’s late and we humans need our rest.” he said. “Kade, not here. We can discuss this more later. Let’s go, everyone.”
Cody hopped off Heatwave’s knee, and followed his siblings and father to the lift. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was the Rescue Bots turning to their newest addition, and heard the start of a question before the doors shutting cut it off.
“So what else do you know that Optimus isn’t-“
——————————
Everything came to a head a week after Dreadwing had settled into the bunker. The Seeker had taken over one back corner of the large room, converting it into a small space for himself. None of the other bots or humans had raised a fuss at that. But Kade was getting increasingly agitated. It was clear that he didn’t understand why Blades and his team were so calm about letting a Decepticon live peacefully with them. Personally, the copter bot attributed that to the fact that the firefighter was human, so he probably didn’t understand the Cybertronian cultural or societal intricacies that had allowed the five bots to come to an understanding. That day, Kade had been particularly snarly. Even Boulder was starting to get put off by it.
They had gathered in the bunker. Blades was watching TV with Dreadwing and Chase, trying to explain the allure of his favorite show to the two bots. Boulder was painting, and Heatwave was on his little sparring platform. The humans had come down in time to see Dreadwing pinch one of Blade’s finials when the little copter bot’s rotors had straightened and extended, threatening to start spinning right there on his back due to his excitement. It had pulled Blades back to himself, and he’d sheepishly tucked his rotors back along his spinal strut while shooting the older mech an apologetic grin.
To a Cybertronian, such a gesture from an older mech to a youngling would not have raised any attention. The gentle tweak hadn’t even hurt his sensitive finials. But to a human, especially one who didn’t have or understand the context of Cybertronian culture, the gesture and lack of reaction from the bots could easily be misunderstood.
So really, Blades wasn’t surprised that Kade had finally snapped. As soon as he’d seen the interaction, he’d roared a demand to know what was going on, questioning how the bots could live with someone who had been part of the same team that had wiped out all the other Rescue Bots. That was when Chief Burns had sighed and suggested they all get settled in the lounge to talk again. They had, taking up the same positions as the previous time, though this time Boulder also dragged over a large beanbag for himself and Graham, while Dani perched on Blade’s shoulder and Dreadwing took the free spot on the couch. Which was where they were now.
“Alright.” Kade spat. “So I’m not getting something here, obviously. Why are you four so comfortable around him? He literally admitted that he used to be a Decepticon! The same guys that destroyed your Rescue Force!”
“But he wasn’t there.” Blades chimed in. “We talked when you went to bed that night. He joined the ‘Cons after the Autobots destroyed Vos, which happened after the fall of the Rescue Force.”
“And that changes anything?” Kade sputtered.
“It changes everything.” Heatwave grunted. “He wasn’t part of the group that destroyed the Rescue Force. And even though he joined them later, it wasn’t to inflict violence, it was in response to his home and people being destroyed. That may be hard to understand, based on what I know of your human culture, but for us Cybertronians that’s enough.”
Kade crossed his arms, scowling fiercely. “Fine. I guess I can accept that, even if I don’t get it. What I don’t get is why you’d defect.” he directed the last part at Dreadwing. “You hinted last time we talked that you served Megatron for thousands and thousands of years, and joined him because he was fighting for a just cause, one you believed in. What changed?”
Dreadwing frowned, staring hard at the human. “You are correct, Skyquake and I did originally join Megatron because we believed him to be honorable and just.” he tilted his head. “As the War progressed and left Cybertron, Megatron gradually became more…mad. However, we still followed him because we had sworn an oath of loyalty, and to break that oath would be dishonorable.” he rumbled. “And we did not fully agree with the Autobots either, even after Optimus Prime took command.”
“Hold on.” Graham cut in. “Skyquake?”
Dreadwing blinked, and something odd entered his gaze. Blades felt the flash of grief in his EM afield before it abruptly cut off. “Yes. Skyquake. He was my brother. We were split spark twins.”
“I thought you said you guys don’t have families like humans!” Kade said to Heatwave, eyes narrowed.
The fire truck scowled. “We don’t! Not usually! There’s only really one exception, and that’s so rare I didn’t think it mattered!”
“Two exceptions.” Blades intervened quickly. “There’s actually two exceptions, two ways for Cybertronians to have siblings.”
Looks were directed at him, and he squirmed under the attention. Slag, he hadn’t meant to say that. They’d want to know how he knew and that was something he wanted to keep to himself. It was his burden to bare.
Dreadwing sensed his discomfort, cutting in before the questions could start and drawing the attention back to himself. “Yes. The first exception is that of split spark twins.” He glanced at the humans. “We Cybertronians are not created like you organics. On Cybertron, our source of life is called the Well of All Sparks. It is where all sparks are created, and where all sparks return upon deactivation.”
“A spark is like…your soul, right? It’s what gives you guys life and makes you who you are.” Dani questioned.
Dreadwing dipped his helm towards her. “Indeed. When a new Cybertronian comes into be, their spark is created in the Well. It goes through several layers of the Well’s energy, the spark refining and becoming more defined as it progresses to the edge of the Well from the center. Often, the sparks will not maintain their form in this process, and their energy will dissipate and return to the Well.” Noting the human’s looks, he shook his head. “The spark has no life or sentience at that time, it is merely a small collection of energy. It is if the spark holds its form past the final layer of shaping that it gains sentience and life. At that point, the energy of the Well pulls resources from Cybertron itself to create a protoform, a physical body, around the spark. Then, the protoform is pushed from the Well, and thus a new Cybertronian is created.” the Seeker explained.
“That doesn’t explain how you guys can have siblings.” Graham pointed out.
Dreadwing dipped his head. “Twins like myself are a rarity. They occur when, just before a protoform is formed around the spark, a surge of energy from the Well causes the spark to split into two. When that happens, most sparks to not survive and dissipate. If they do survive, the Well forms two protoforms around the two halves. The two halves of the spark can function on their own, and are fully formed in their own right, but due to the fact they were one a singular spark those two halves are forever bound.” he explained it carefully.
“Two halves, one whole.” Graham said, eyes lighting up with understanding.
Dreadwing nodded. “Yes. That is how split spark twins are created. Due to the bond, twins are very close to one another. A spark bond is a precious thing, little human.” His optics went distant, and Blades’s own spark ached with painful remembrance. “Through a spark bond, you are always and forever aware of the one who you share the bond with. You know what they feel, how they think, you know them in every way that they in turn know you. You can talk and communicate using the bond, and it can never be detected or listened in on. Distance can dampen a bond, and the further one gets from those they are bonded to the more muted it becomes. At one point, the bond becomes too muted to talk in words, and you can share only base thoughts and emotions.” he rumbled. “But even so, the bond persists, and it allows you to know your bonded is still living.”
“And…this Skyquake. He’s your twin? Where is he?” Kade asked.
“Gone.” Dreadwing said, his EM field flaring with that sharp agony, and even the humans could hear the grief in his tone. “Offlined before I even arrived on Earth.”
“How did it happen?” Chief asked, voice somber.
Dreadwing stared at him for a long moment, and Blades could see the grief in the angle at which he held his wings, even if he had reigned in his EM field. “Centuries ago, Megatron stationed my brother here in stasis in order to guard over Deception energon deposits. I was aware of his mission, but I was sent to far off star systems to fight in the War.” he sighed. “Recently, Skyquake was awoken, and in an ensuing confrontation with the Autobots he was slain by Optimus Prime and his scout.”
Blades flinched, optics wide. Bumblebee had killed Dreadwing’s twin? He supposed he couldn’t really judge a situation in which he didn’t have all the information, but he still had a hard time imagining the friendly yellow bit he knew actually killing someone else.
“How did you survive?” he blurted out. Looks were directed to him again, confused, but Dreadwing understood.
“Distance.” he rumbled. “I was so far away at from my brother at the time of his death that the bond was too strained for me to even feel his strongest emotions. I could only barely tell he was still living, and even then only when I focused on the link between our shared spark.” His gaze went sad. “I felt his death. The surge of energy that came from the bond breaking did reach me, but by the time it did it had had to travel so great a distance that it had dulled too much to overwhelm and gutter out my own spark. All I felt was a very faint sting. It didn’t even hurt to feel him perish.” he said, and he sounded bitter at it.
Blades could understand. “I’m sorry.” he said honestly.
Dreadwing sighed. “He died an honorable death. For that much, I am grateful.”
Kade cleared his throat, frowning. “Okay.” he said carefully. “But that doesn’t explain why you left the ‘Cons. Shouldn’t you have more reason to stay with the, if the Autobots killed your twin?”
Dreadwing growled lowly here. “No.” he denied. “The Autobots gave my brother a good death, a death I know Skyquake would not have been ashamed of. For all I resent the Autobots from taking my brother from me, it is War, and I cannot find fault in them removing an enemy from the battlefield.” He turned a sharp look to Kade. “It was the Starscream, however, who is a Decepticon, who desecrated my brother’s rest by defiling his corpse and turning him into a Terrorcon.”
Blades inhaled sharply, rage clouding his processor. He seethed, his rotors clamping tight to his spinal strut, his optics going dark and angry, and his hands curling into fists. Dani was the only one to notice, and she didn’t want to draw attention to him just yet.
“Terrorcon? Cody asked.
“A zombie.” Boulder offered, looking sick. Actually, all the bots look sick. “Or the closest equivalent to it there is for Cybertronians.”
And now the humans all looked sick. “Oh.” Kade said. “That’s why you left.”
“Yes.” Dreadwing said darkly. “I learned the truth, and when I attempted to avenge my bother Megatron attempted to destroy me. It did not matter to him that Starscream had attempted to assassinate and betray him on countless occasions. He sought my death in order to protect a known traitor.” he growled. “Starscream turned my brother into something twisted and abhorrent. That is why I left.” he finished.
“I’m surprised you didn’t rip his spark out.” Blades hissed. Stunned gazes turned to the copter, and everyone was alarmed to see just how angry he looked. “I’d have tried to, in your place.”
The only one who wasn’t surprised was Dreadwing. “I did try, and I was almost killed for it. I will avenge Skyquake one day, little one. But for now, calm yourself.”
Blades actually snarled at that. His rotors rattled aggressively, the smaller ones in his pedes whirling to life with a loud buzzing, and his engine all but roared with fury. “Just the idea of someone doing that-!” he cut himself off, snarling again. Dreadwing was quick to pick Dani off the youngling’s shoulder and set her down.
“Blades.” he snapped. The others were too frozen in shock at the sight of the usually bubbly copter so aggressive.
“No!” Blades snapped. “If someone did that to ‘Aid, or Groove, or Streetwise, or Hot Spot, or any of them, I’d rip them apart myself!”
Dreadwing narrowed his optics, his processor working quickly. There was no reason for the youngling to get so upset at the idea of a spark sibling being so badly defiled, no reason for him to take it so personally. And those names…
“You are gestalt, aren’t you, little one?”
That was enough to snap Blades out of his angry haze, and his optics shot wide. Fear swamped his field, and his rotors abruptly silenced and clamped back against his spine while the rotors in his pedes cut off with a sharp grinding noise. “What?”
“Given your reaction, and those names you said….it is the only conclusion that makes sense.”
“Wait, Blades…you’re part of a gestalt?” Boulder asked, his own optics blown wide.
“That…would explain your reaction.” Chase offered hesitantly.
“Blades.” Heatwave prompted at the copter’s continued silence.
“Uh, hello? Clueless humans here!” Dani called. “Blades, put me back up. Also, what’s a gestalt?”
The youngling bent down, allowing his partner to climb her way back up to his shoulder before he sat up. He sagged, looking defeated,
“A gestalt is the other way Cybertronians can have siblings.” he said quietly. “It happens in the Well. Most of the time, the Well creates on spark at a time. Creating a living spark is a complex process, so it can’t afford to create too many at once. Every once in a while though, the Well has an excess of energy, undetectable to any technology. When that happens, it creates multiple sparks at once. If all those sparks survive to the edge of the Well, then the excess energy pulls them together into one large, massive spark. Many sparks, becoming one. They remain combined until the energy stabilizes, and then split into the original number again and that’s when the protoforms are created around the sparks.” He sighed. “When that happens, all the bots in that group are linked. They were created by the Well together, and they were merged together by the Well to bind their sparks. That’s a gestalt. Because of the spark merge that occurred in the Well, gestalt can actually merge themselves again outside of it. They can push together their sparks and processors and very beings to become a singular bot. Gestalt frames are even adapted to that they can physically combine, each member becoming a different body part, in order to form the body of a new, larger mech while their sparks combine to form the mech’s own spark. Many, becoming one.” Blades looked down. “My brothers and I are that. We can combine to form Defensor. I’m the arm.” he said weakly.
——————————
Part 3
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howlingday · 3 years
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nora the arc au) nora finds out that blake was essentually a child soldier and blake admits she's afraid that she doesn't know how to be a good person nora sugests she find someone she trusts to be a good person and then just follow their orders. then study them to find out how to be a good person yourself.
she was expecting blake to follow her own team leader ruby. instead now she's got a cat constantly watching her and jaune trying to get intimate. SHE CAN'T HOLD HANDS IN FRONT OF SOMEONE IT'S TOO LEWD! she can kiss her husband tho so consolation prize
Ceiling Cat!
Blake heard everything. Blake saw everything. If it happens in Beacon, sooner or later, she would learn about it. So when she learned about her neighbors across the hall being both the most trusting people and the most loving couple, she needed to learn more, firsthand.
Her years in the White Fang taught her many skills, including infiltration. She knocked on the door, no doubt drawing the attention of the dwellers inside. The door opens.
"Hm?" Jaune peered out through the door. "Oh, hey, Blake! What's up?"
She needed to gain their trust if she was taking this route. Failure to do so could end in total mission failure. She needed to give them a reason to let her in.
"Hey, Jaune. Do you mind if we talk in your room?"
"Uh, sure!" Jaune opened the door wide and stepped aside. "Come on in!"
"Thank you." The door shut behind her. Mission accomplished.
"What are you doing by the peephole, Yang?" Damn! I've been spotted! It's all on you, Blake! Your partner's been captured by the ice queen! "Hey!"
Blake sat quietly across the tea table Jaune unfolded for their discussion. She was told it was an idea Ren had to help bond the team together. It was small, square, and only had enough room for one person at each end. Thankfully, however, it was tall enough to have tea on. She was served a cup pre-made by Ren for sudden guests.
"So what's on your mind?" Jaune asked.
"I'm told you're the most trusting man at Beacon."
"Wow, really?" Jaune blushed. "I had no idea!"
Blake nodded. "I wanted to get to know you a little better, and hopefully you can get to know me as well."
"Yeah, that'd be great!" Jaune beamed. "What do you want to know?"
"First, I'd like to know about your family." Blake began. "You were born to the Arc family, correct?"
Jaune nodded. "I take you've heard of them."
"Only a few times. My father used to praise your family for being kind." Jaune grinned. "But he also criticized their recklessness." He frowned. "He said your family made a habit of sticking their nose where it didn't belong. The Faunus Wars, for example."
"Oh, yeah. You mean Abigail Arc, right?" Blake nodded. "Honestly, I don't know a lot about her, except that she broke Faunus from slavery during the early settling of Vacuo."
Blake nodded. "Yes, and at the time, she was my favorite human from history."
"Really? Who was your favorite Faunus?"
"I would say Ghira Belladonna, one of the early founders of the White Fang."
"The terrorist group?" Blake flinched, but Jaune didn't seem to notice. "Kind of weird, but I guess it makes sense if you cared a lot about Faunus rights."
Blake nodded. "Yes, and I do. Jaune, do you trust me?"
"Of course I do."
"And can I trust you?"
"You can." Blake removed the string from her ribbon, causing it to fall and reveal her small cat ears. Jaune blinked and gasped. Blake blushed as she revealed her secret.
"Kitty!"
"What?" Blake whirled around to find Nora standing behind her, gawking at Blake's ears. She had stars in her eyes, like a child watching a butterfly for the first time.
"Can I touch them?" Nora gave a pouty face. "Pleeeeeeeease?"
"Nora," Jaune warned, "mind your manners."
Blake giggled. "Are you sure you're a couple? You seem more like a parent and child relationship."
Nora scoffed. "It's just a gag we run with each other. Right, Jauney?"
Jaune chuckled. "Yes, honey, it is." Jaune then looked Blake dead in the eyes and shook his head, mouthing 'No!' Nora pulled up a chair and sat between them. "So, you're a cat faunus? I take it that's why you're so curious about my thoughts on Abigail Arc."
"Partially." Blake admitted. "Moreover, I was curious on your thoughts on human/faunus relations."
"What relations?" Nora asked.
Blake nodded. "Exactly. Humans and Faunus have had a strained connection between them since the end of the Faunus Wars. Some people have held onto their grudges from then, even when the war ended before their parents were born."
Nora nodded along. "Mhm, I see."
"It's a shame when people can't see past a set of ears or a tail to have a normal conversation." Jaune replied.
"Yes, a darn shame." Nora nodded again.
"Cardin is one example." Blake offered. "His great grandfather fought against the Faunus, and he still holds a grudge against us, even though we never harmed him."
"True, true."
"Nora," Jaune looked in his fiance's direction, "when did the Faunus Wars end?"
"Uh," Nora blushed, "sixty-three years ago starting at noon tomorrow?"
Blake and Jaune shared a look, then looked back in Nora's direction. "Lucky guess."
"Look, I don't really get it, but I still think it's ridiculous." Nora started listing things on her fingers, "The Faunus Wars, the White Fang, the Menagerie Outcastings, the SDC embargoes," Nora waved her hands in the air. "It's all ridiculous! At the end of the day, we're all the same squishy people with breakable body parts."
"A bit morbid, but I understand." Blake was surprised to hear Nora make an argument against not just Faunus discrimination, but discrimination as a whole. She smiled as she stood up. "I should be going." She tied the bow around her ears. "But before I go, I have one more question to ask you."
Jaune and Nora watched carefully. "Yes?" Jaune answered.
"I used to be a member of the White Fang. I used to hurt people for a living. For ten years, every day, I fought against violence with violence. Knowing this," Blake turned to face them, their visibly pale faces watching her every move, "will you treat me any differently?"
"Yes," Jaune answered immediately, standing up and approaching her. She watched as he closed the gap between them, unflinching, expecting the worst. "I'm sorry."
Blake couldn't move. She was trapped in his grip, and he refused to let go. Worse yet, it felt... nice.
Jaune hugged her, resting his head on her shoulder, one hand rubbing her back. "I'm sorry you had to go through that?"
"Jeez, Jauney," Nora teased, "now who's being rude, hugging a girl without her permission?"
"It's fine, it's..." Blake leaned into the hug, "nice."
Blake had left, and Jaune was currently putting the tea table away. He folded it and slipped it into the closet space. As he shut the door, he was hugged from behind by Nora. "You really do have a big heart," Nora said, "you know that?"
"Yeah, I know." Jaune answered. "What I didn't know was how much you knew about Faunus history."
Nora giggled. "Just because I don't talk about it, it doesn't mean I don't know anything about it."
"Fair point." Jaune admitted. "So, here we are again."
"All alone." Nora added.
"Ren and Pyrrha won't be back for a while. Do you wanna..." Jaune trailed off.
"Right now? In the middle of the day?" Nora asked.
Jaune turned around to face Nora. He draped his arms over her shoulders. "Why not? No one's watching."
Nora gulped. "O-Okay."
Jaune and Nora held their hands up, touching palms together. Jaune shifted his hand clockwise and began by wrapping her hand with his pinkie. Nora followed suit with her pinkie, nestling it between his Pinkie and ring finger. Jaune then lowered his ring finger down, followed by Nora, though her finger's ring cause Jaune to flinch from how cold it was. "Are you okay?" Nora asked. Jaune nodded, and continued with his middle finger. Then came the index fingers, leaving only the thumbs extended. Jaune wrapped his thumb around Nora's hand, with the girl looking up with a dreamy sigh.
"BLAKE?!" Nora shrieked. Nora leapt away and looked away with a blush. Jaune looked up, and indeed saw the Faunus girl above with cat eyes wide with pupils round.
"Should you be doing such lewd things without wedding rings on?" Blake asked.
Jaune grabbed his boot from the closet, hefting it up. "GET OUT OF HERE, CEILING CAT!" Jaune tossed his boot into the ceiling, forcing Blake to scurry away.
"What happened?!" Ruby asked, static covering her speech.
"Mission failed," Blake reported, "we'll get 'em next time."
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imaginesandinserts · 3 years
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Irreverent Drabbles: Perils of Realization
Title: Irreverent Drabbles: Perils of Realization Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: G Words: 6078
A/N: This takes place chronologically between chapters 28 and 29. 
Irreverent Series Masterlist
You went on a date.
You realized that you were in love with Hotch, and your first instinct was to go on a date with someone else.
In all respects, it was a relatively good decision. Hotch was your boss and despite the close relationship you enjoyed with him, any romantic relationship between the two of you was impossible.
Miles Burton was a Senior White House Advisor whom you'd run into during your social obligations as a member of the Women in Service organization who had persistently flirted with you at the Griffiths fundraiser and had made it a point to say hello at the following two events you'd both been in attendance for.
Once you'd come to the fairly life-ruining conclusion that you were head-over-heels in love with Aaron Hotchner, you made sure to actually flirt back the next time you saw Miles Burton. That was how you found yourself on the date that had you questioning ever having harbored an attraction to men - dinner and drinks accompanied by a rendition of the 101 Life Accomplishments of Miles T. Burton.
This was hell.
After dinner, Miles had insisted on driving you home, and you cursed yourself for having taken a cab to dinner in order to avoid the lack of parking options in downtown. For some reason, he'd gotten it into his head that paying for dinner entitled him to having your mouth wrapped around his cock while he was parked in the street overlooking your house. You'd extracted yourself from the situation with as much contained outrage and dignity as you could muster, and having closed the front door, you find yourself leaning against it with only one thought in your head – Aaron Hotchner would never.
*------------*
"Rough night?"
You look over at Derek as he peers at you over his coffee mug, his eyes filling with amusement, no doubt having already taken in your slightly puffy face and the extra large cup of coffee you're carrying. After Miles had driven away - you'd watched from your window just in case - you'd needed a drink, which had turned into two drinks and ultimately falling asleep on the couch. You'd woken up late and having rushed out of the house - sans makeup - had arrived at work just in time. Hotch may no longer be upset at you being five minutes late, but he's still entirely stringent about punctuality and you hate to disappoint him.
"Bad date," you respond, dropping into your chair and whipping out the little compact and concealer from your bag so that no one else sees you looking like this.
Emily perks up at that, walking over to perch herself on your desk, the beginnings of a grin already forming on her face. "You finally went out with Burton?"
You look up at her, slightly shaking your head in disapproval at her glee. She'd warned you against him. Something about bad vibes, but since it hadn't been anything concrete, you'd impulsively gone against it. You should've known better. Emily's gut, when it came to men, was impeccably accurate.
Pursing your lips, you make sure your face no longer bears the telltale marks of having fallen asleep, drunk on your couch, before you look up at her and Derek once more. "He tried to Lewinsky me," you tell them ruefully, a scowl making its way onto your face as Emily unsuccessfully stifles a snort.
Derek's eyebrows rise in question. "It's fine, I'm okay," you assure him, before looking back at Emily. "You were right. He's an arrogant creep."
"I'm sorry," she tells you, scooching up further onto your desk and swiping up your coffee before you could stop her. "Everyday I continue to be attracted to men feels like a waste."
"Tell me about it," you mutter, careful to not allow your eyes to slip up to the landing where his office was.
"Oh come on, we're not all bad."
Both you and Emily turn to Derek with looks that say exactly what you think about that particular statement.
"Geez, tough crowd." He raises his hands in surrender, turning away from you both and back to his screen, no doubt to message Pen and fill her in on everything.
"I'd make a good lesbian."
You look up at Emily, who has a contemplative look on her face as she continues to take sips of your coffee. Your coffee. Your hot, perfectly sweetened and foamy latte.
"You would," you agree with her, reaching out for the cup, which she thankfully hands to you, before her eyes flit up to the landing. You turn and follow her gaze, eyes coming to rest on Hotch.
He's wearing the navy blue suit with the nice red patterned Gucci tie that you'd helped Jack pick out for him on Father's day. He has a folder on his hand and his brow is already furrowed, straining under the weight of the world far too early in the morning. His eyes move from the papers in his hand to all of you looking up at him, muscles tensed and breath held tight.
"Briefing. Now."
It takes only two words from him to get you all scrambling from your desks and rushing upstairs, his tone telling you everything you needed to know.
It was going to be a bad one.
*------------*
Five girls missing, three bodies found. Based on the pattern, it's already a foregone conclusion that the fourth girl was also dead. Not that you'd tell her parents that. Not until there was a body. All of your efforts were concentrated on girl number five.
You've felt the eyes of the entire team on you ever since the third body was found and Caroline Geller, lucky contestant number five, had been taken from the parking lot of a grocery store after work. All five girls were around the same age, pretty, low-risk, and had no connection to the unsub that you'd been able to work out.
You look up from the notes you'd taken while talking to Caroline's friends from work to see Hotch looking at you. When your eyes meet his, he's quick to look away, turning back towards the screen in front of him. You know why they're all concerned. While all of the girls are roughly the same age as you, Caroline Geller looked like you. Same hair color, similar features, comparable build – at first glance one might mistake her for you.
She taught ballet at the local dance school, volunteered at the soup kitchen every week, and had recently gotten engaged to her fiancé, a beautiful and heartbroken man who had planted himself on a bench outside the precinct and refused to leave his post.
You'd been at their home, combed through their life, seen the wedding invitation pinned to the refrigerator, held her pointe shoes in your hands as you looked around at everything left behind.
Your eyes stay fixed on Hotch's back as he continues to assess the screen of suspects and look at the evidence board, as though willing something to fall into place. He seems more affected by this case, this girl's disappearance, more than any other in recent memory. There's this childish, naïve part of you that's hoping against hope that it has something to do with you. Because she reminds him of you. More likely, it's the fact that he's had to walk past her fiancé, every time he's left the precinct. Hotch had been the one to speak with him, and the poor man had broken down into tears right  in front of his eyes. It was enough to affect even the coldest of hearts and Hotch hardly fit the bill of a cold-hearted man, despite any misconceptions made based on his reticent exterior. Aaron Hotchner was one of the kindest and most sincere people you've ever met – devout father, responsible team leader. His very aura commanded the sort of respect reserved for those men, the kind of men everyone looked up to and knew they'd never be.
Somehow, he's permeated your entire life without you realizing it. Ever since the two of you had made up, it felt like things were back to normal, even more than before he'd left. You had dinner with them as often as possible. Both him and Jack slept over at least once a week when there wasn't a case going on. The sight of Hotch in pajamas, disappearing into your guest bedroom was becoming a familiar one. It's beyond normal coworkers, beyond a normal friendship – you can finally admit that to yourself.
How it had happened though - how the two of you had allowed it to happen - still remained a mystery. It had been innocuous enough in the beginning. Accompanying Jack and Hotch to the Zoo or the Smithsonian. Relieving Jess when Hotch couldn't get away and she had to go home to her own family. Keeping him company late nights at the office because you hated seeing him be the last one there.
You can feel a lump rise in your throat as your eyes stay on his frame, watching as he points out an additional factor for Reid to consider in his geographic profile. You didn't deserve him. You didn't deserve someone like him, even if he were to give you the time of day.
You've already thought through how it would go if you were to tell him. Blocked out what you'd say and how'd respond. The initial shock of your revelation would catch him off-guard. He'd falter ever so slightly. It would be quickly followed by a professional and kindhearted rejection. You were his subordinate. You were too young. He's sorry if he did or said anything that might have led you on. Of course, he understands if you need some time and space to gather yourself and make your peace with the matter. Of course you'd still see Jack, he'd never deny you his son again. And he wouldn't. He'd stay true to his word.
But you'd never be the same again. You'd never be able to look at him again and feel anything but the sting of that rejection. The confirmation – you weren't good enough. It didn't matter that you'd changed everything. It didn't matter that you'd tried and tried to atone. You weren't good enough. You never would be. Not for that. Not for him. Slowly, you'd start to withdraw. You wouldn't be able to help yourself. It would hurt too much, just being near him. Without meaning to, you'd lose him.
*------------*
Samuel Nolen, age 45, a landscaper who'd worked jobs around each of the women's workplaces in the weeks leading up to their disappearance. He'd been the only common link Garcia had been able to pinpoint and he fit the profile exactly. Older white male, non-threatening demeanor, rotating job that gave him the freedom to watch his victims uninterrupted. Grew up with a single father, mother left the family when he was nine years old and was never heard from again. Garcia had found out that she'd moved out to Vegas and had a relatively successful career as a cabaret dancer.
He was sat in the interrogation room with both Rossi and Reid talking to him while the rest of you watched from the other side. There was something almost gentle about how he held himself, how he shied away from Rossi and leaned more towards Reid, whom he perceived as non-threatening. The guess was that he'd lured in his victims under the guise of needing help, and based on the man in front of you, you could see how some women might fall for it. He seemed nice. If there's one thing this job has taught you, it's that men don't ask for help from women. If a man is asking you for help, run.
Neither Rossi nor Reid were having much success with him. You could all see the twitch in his fingers as they curled around something imaginary. All of the victims had died via strangulation. The hope was that you'd captured him before he'd managed to get back to Caroline and subject her to the same fate.
Derek and JJ had been the ones to pick him up, and as Derek had marched him past you, through the precinct, Samuel's eyes had caught yours and they'd lingered, sending a chill racing down your spine. He might be able to fake it long enough to lure those women to their deaths, but there was no hiding that look in his eyes. The look of a predator.
"I want to talk to the female agent. I'll only talk to her."
It was the first thing he'd said since the interrogation had started half an hour ago. You feel yourself tense, the eyes of the rest of the team on you immediately. None of you needed to ask which agent. From the corner of your eye you look at Hotch beside you. He isn't looking at you, still glaring at the unsub through the mirror, but you can see that his jaw is set tightly.
When Rossi and Reid exit, Rossi immediately looks to you before his eyes go over you and to Hotch. You don't have to turn to see that they're engaged in a wordless debate about the right next move.
You can't help but think of that lovely empty house. The despondent man still seated outside. Those satin shoes that had just been broken in. They deserved to be worn.
"Hotch," you turn to face him, making up your mind as you do. You're going in. You're going to get answers.
He's already looking at you and you can tell that he doesn't like it at all. His forehead is already wrinkled and you can literally see the dissent on his mouth. He's incredibly protective of the team and everyone knows that you're being asked for because you look most like the victim. His ritual has been interrupted and he's going to be eager to resume it. With you as proxy.
"I have to go in," you tell him, before he can say anything to dissuade you from the notion. There was no point in waiting. Every second you waited, your chances of finding Caroline worsened.
His eyes bore into you, silently speaking his every concern into existence. You didn't have to do this, there was always another way. You look so much like her. You look too much like her. If you go in there, he won't see you. He'll see her.
It is a tense minute as you and Hotch look at one another. He's giving you the chance to back out despite knowing that's the last thing you'd do. Finally, a nod comes from him.
"We still have the personal effects that were found in her car?" You're already walking out to the main office as you direct your question to Emily, who is quick to follow you. She guides you to a box of items, among which there's some pieces of clothing. Grabbing the box, you go back to the office overlooking the interrogation room. If he was going to think you were Caroline, then you'd play into it.
Quickly, you shuffle through the clothing in front of you, selecting a well-worn seeming crewneck with her alma mater on it. Slipping your blazer off, you pull the sweater over your head, adjusting so it hung off of you in a manner reminiscent of how Caroline wore it in the photos you'd seen. You shuck off your heels as well, finding a pair of low flats in the box, which you don instead.
Behind you, you can feel the eyes of the team on you as you slowly transform yourself. For the final touch, you take your hair out of your usually prim updo and let it down. Your hair was a little bit longer than Caroline's, but, as you part it down the left side just as she did, you figure it was close enough.
Turning finally to face the unsub, you take your first breath as Caroline Geller.
*------------*
Aaron watches, fists bunched tightly together, thumb itching to move, to do something that would accomplish something larger simply watching and waiting.
They all knew what you were doing - playing up the similarities between yourself and the victim to draw out whatever it was about these women that played to the unsub's compulsions. Prey on his weaknesses just as he'd preyed on them. It was a good tactic – one he could feel forming in your head as you'd searched through the evidence box in search of props for your scene.
You're good in the field, there's no doubt about it. But here, in the interrogation room, that's where you really shine. It was one of the hardest taught skills and it was the one that you had outperformed in beyond imagination from the very start. Your methods unpredictable and out of the box, but highly effective. Out of them all, you were always the best at getting inside the heads of the unsubs and finding that one little thing that made them break.
He's seen it before countless times now, been witness to each spoken word, well placed emphasis, timely pause. The interrogation room was a stage and you were always the star.
It had been the topic of some conversation between himself and Rossi – how you'd managed to convince some of the toughest unsubs to crack under the pressure of your presence. Aaron, personally, chalked it up to your childhood and upbringing. When your entire life was a performance, you know how to play your role.
Now, as he watches you, he sees how you've managed to mimic the mannerisms of Caroline Geller from the home videos you'd seen of her – the slight tilt of the head, the fiddling with the ends of your hair. Your voice has shifted as well, a slightly higher and happier pitch, more like what one might expect of a dance teacher with students in primary school. You've done your homework on this one, that one is easily clear. However, it's the slight pause you have as the Unsub addresses you as Caroline, the nearly imperceptible tension in your shoulders as the Unsub mocks Caroline's desolate fiancé whom Aaron hadn't the heart to look at. This one had gotten to you, and you wouldn't be able to deny it. Not to him.
At long last, you get what you're searching for. The docks by the east river.
The answer came at a price – twenty five long minutes with just you and the Unsub as he poked and prodded at your psyche just as you did to him.
The confirmation from Garcia, of a heat signature at the given location, comes within the minute and Aaron is quick to rap his knuckles against the glass, signaling your curtain call.
*------------*
You can't save them all. That's the one lesson every new agent learns at their own pace.
You can't save them all.
She'd suffocated before you could get to her. You'd been too late.
JJ hadn't let you see Caroline's body, dragging you back and away from the dock containers when Derek had emerged with a somber face, slowly shaking his head.
Your gun feels heavy in your hand, and it is only out of sheer rote habit that you manage to disarm and reholster the weapon. JJ stands with you as the flurry of people begin to process the scene, lit only by the red and blue flashing lights of the police cars.
You'd failed. You'd been too slow to extract the location, too slow to get there. You'd been too damn slow.
You've lost victims before. Everyone has. But you lived in this girl. You'd worn her clothes, her shoes, taken her name. You'd walked like her, changed your voice to mimic hers. It was as though, by pretending to be her, you'd taken in a part of her that now yearned to reunite with the rest of its whole, but it wasn't able to. So now a piece of Caroline Geller rattled inside of you, sobbing and crying out for the rest of itself.
Hotch and Emily finally emerge and you follow JJ to join them as Hotch assigns everyone their roles. One of the policemen interjects and informs him that Caroline's fiancé had insisted on coming along and was now waiting with a deputy by the barricades. You see Hotch nod, his eyes briefly moving towards the direction of the barricade, before refocusing on the team and instructing Reid to assist with the evidence logging.
As everyone starts to disperse, you can feel a lead ball drop into the pit of your stomach, knowing that Hotch now had the task of informing the fiancé that Caroline Geller was dead.
"Hotch," you begin, his name coming out full and heavy, sitting in your mouth like warm air.
He halts at your voice, turning back towards you. He'd already given you your assignment, so he has to be wondering what you could possibly have to say to him.
You look up at him. It's just you, him, and Emily left now, as she waits for you to help her with processing paperwork on the unsub that Hotch had tasked you both with. "I – ," you falter as you meet his eyes, and you can barely see a hint of him behind them. He'd already donned his mask to go face the fiancé.
"I'm sorry," you manage quickly, jaw tight and heart clenching at the awfulness of the job that he now has to do. The job he always has to do.
The only acknowledgement you receive that he had even heard what you said over the din of the police and ambulance sirens, was the barest of wrinkling to his forehead. The ever so slight slippage of the mask during which you thought you might get to catch a glimpse of him, but he catches it far too quickly and keeps it in place. As if it never happened. Not even nodding, he turns away and walks towards the barricade.
It's a miserable few hours for Emily afterwards, you're sure, as you monotonously follow her back to the police station and begin the task of coordinating with the local office to handle the case and subsequent prosecution.
Emily likes to talk while the two of you work together. Rarely ever do the two of you work without talking, however she seems to pick up on your mood fairly well and the two of you quietly go through all of the required processes.
"You know what your problem is?"
You look up at Emily, who had finally broken the silence, her sharp voice cutting through the small storage room that the two of you inhabited, gathering all of the files that would need to be sent off to the local office.
You swallow, bracing yourself for the worst. At your slight nod, she proceeds, her voice a calm fury like you'd never seen before. "Even after everything you've done, after everything you had to go through, you seem to harbor this delusion that you're not supposed to be here."
"What're you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you. Apologizing to Hotch. You think you don't belong here. That you aren't good enough. You think that girl dying today was your fault."
You scoff, shaking your head. "It was my fault," you retort, grabbing the box you'd just finished packing and making your way to the door before you're blocked by Emily, preventing your escape.
"No, it wasn't. The only person responsible for that girl's death is the guy who's going to rot in prison for the rest of his miserable, fucked up life."
You sigh, shuffling your weight from one foot to the other. "If I'd gotten – "
"You can't save everyone," she interrupts, barreling onwards. "We're going to try. We're going to try our best every single time. But we can't save everyone. None of us can. Not you, not me, not even Hotch. But that doesn't make it your fault."
Emily stares down at you, reaching out and grabbing the heavy box out of your hands and setting it down on the floor by your feet. You look away, up at the ceiling, tears pricking at your eyes, causing them to burn. Your chest feels tight and you take a shuddered breath. The lure of wanting to believe her was so very strong, struck against the waves of dissonance it posed in your head.
Emily softens her voice, reaching out towards you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders as she easily pulls you into her chest. "Hotch isn't blaming you. He doesn't think you have anything to be sorry for."
*------------*
The plane ride back was a somber affair, everyone on the team off on their own. Spencer was reading a new book whose title had caught your interest, Rossi was tucked away in a corner with his eyes closed but you're not sure if he's actually asleep. Both Emily and JJ were sitting close together, quietly sharing a bag of Cheetos while JJ worked on her presentation to Henry's class for Career Day and Emily bided the time alternating between reading the trashy romance she'd found left behind in her hotel room and staring out the window. Derek sat across from you with his headphones on, leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. Across the way, you can see Hotch diligently working on his report for the case, the only sound emanating from his faint taps against the keyboard.
Emily's words still play in your head, now competing with that churning voice that you'd had in your head for the past few weeks – you would never be good enough for the likes of Aaron Hotchner. Her words were starting to put some minute cracks in the foundation of that particular statement, and you had no idea what to make of that.
You hear the tapping of the keyboard stop momentarily and watch as Hotch turns up to look at you, your eyes meeting for a long second, before he breaks his gaze, returning back to the screen in front of him. From your seat, you can barely make out a slight crinkling of his forehead as his hands hover above the keyboard, as though faltering in typing out his next words. You have to guess that he's arrived at the part of his statement around the interrogation. You turn away, following Emily's lead and staring out your own window, while unbeknownst to you, his eyes can't help but return to you countless times more.
It felt as though you'd thought of very little besides Hotch, since that day that your mother had visited. She'd left in the wake of one of the few times you'd seen him lose his cool with someone, and having it be done on your behalf, in your defense, had somehow unveiled this entirely ridiculous truth that you'd tried in vain to deny.
You were in love with Aaron Hotchner.
You had no idea what to do with that.
Dating other people hadn't worked out so well.
Trying to simply get over it had been an exercise in vain.
You've run miles in your own head, trying to make sense of it. The question begged itself – why Aaron Hotchner? If you merely wanted a husband and kids, you've no doubt you could have that with anyone you got along with well enough.
Your mind had briefly flitted back to that final date you'd had with Cedric Kensington. It had been highly promising, you'd finally felt it heading in a definite direction and you could see it. You could see yourself being with Cedric, marrying him, having children with him if you were so inclined. Had you not gotten the call from Garcia, informing you that Foyet was back on the grid, who knows what could have happened. Maybe you could've had that with Cedric. Having that perfect life with someone else was not entirely out of the realm of possibility.
You'd thought of John. How it had never been the right time when it came to the two of you. Then finally, when you could conceive being something real with him, you'd faltered. You couldn't go through with it. It hadn't been the right time to choose him. It hadn’t been the right time to choose anyone but yourself.
It had taken you some time but you think you've finally come to the right conclusion of why it was Hotch and no one else – the possibility of losing him was terrifying. Even when the two of you had been on the outs, you hadn't been able to leave, staying anchored to him despite being furious with him. Seeing him had been torture. Not seeing him had been so much worse, and you couldn't bring yourself to endure that again.
Given the absolute fact of the matter – you being in love with Hotch - there were really only two paths forward that you could see. Ignore it and hope it goes away, or tell him and pray you didn't lose him in the process.
The Pro/Con list to that second option had begun, unbidden, the week prior. Your mind going rogue and dreaming up ridiculous and absurd scenarios of you confessing your truth to him.
Pro: You're absolutely, unshakably, madly in love with him.
Con: There's a fairly good chance that he does not and will never reciprocate those feelings.
Pro: Aaron Hotchner was loyal to you. You had always felt he was, but your conversation a few weeks back had cemented that. He would do anything to help you, no matter what.
Con: He's twelve years older than you and has a kid.
Pro: You love his kid.
Con: Between the two of you, your past trauma could be its own wing in the Library of Congress.
Pro: You're both good at getting the other person to talk.
Con: You work together and workplace romances are frowned upon. He was your supervisor, and dating him would no doubt lead to rumors and malicious gossip, which would follow you the rest of your career at the Bureau. It could tarnish you entirely and it could also hurt him.
Con: You would not be alright if the two of you didn't work out. You know that you weren't even together, but the idea of ending things with Hotch, after knowing what it was to have him – that would break you entirely.
Con: He was going to say no, so it was all a moot point.
Towards the end, you'd run out of items for the Pros to balance out each Con, and as of now, the Cons were definitely in the lead.
*------------*
The two of you are once again the last two people in the office. Emily had been the last to leave, leaving her book from the plane on your desk, having already put sticky note bookmarks in all the right spots. She'd winked as she left, encouraging you to skip the rest of the book and skip straight to the good stuff. You had to smile at her attempts to cheer you up. Some friends bought you a drink. Emily Prentiss curated sex scenes that she thought you'd enjoy reading.
You glance up and see that Hotch's door is shut, the orange blush emanating through the glass windows, alluding to the fact that he'd given up on using the overhead lights. They were too bright for him and gave him headaches, so despite the strain on his eyes, he preferred to read by the glow of his desk lamp. With Jack away at sleepaway camp for Cub Scouts for the week, he's unlikely to leave early.
You grab your finished report and head up the stairs to his door, stopping and knocking before hearing his permission to enter. As you open the door, your eyes go immediately to his desk, however he's not seated behind it. Instead, you're greeted by a most unfamiliar sight.
Aaron Hotchner is seated on the brown leather couch in his office, a glass of amber liquid in his hands. You don't think you've ever seen Hotch not working in his office. Sure, he'll take a break here and there when you interrupt, but the image of him outright sitting on the couch, not a report in sight, was entirely foreign to you.
It feels as though you're intruding. Like you’ve stumbled upon something entirely private, because Hotch doesn’t strike you as the kind of guy that makes a habit out of drinking in his office by himself.
You could imagine this was something he did with Rossi on occasion, the two of them sharing a drink after a rough case or catching up and reminiscing about the so-called good old days, before the team had a plane on call.
"You can set that on the desk," he tells you, his voice deeper, made warm by the liquor. He doesn't look up from his glass, eyes fixed on something in the far off distance.
Unsure how to react to the sight in front of you, you quickly make your way across his office, setting your file on top of the already tall stack at the edge of his desk.
Turning around, you quickly walk back towards the door, eager to not bother him any longer than absolutely necessary. When you get to the door, you hesitate, turning back to face him. Before you can stop yourself, you can feel the words tumbling out of you. "Hotch, are you alright?"
He looks up in your direction, his expression entirely unreadable. He nods slowly, and you can see a deep sigh work its way through him, before he finally meets your eyes.
"It was a rough case. Telling the families isn't something I'll ever get used to, I think."
You nod sympathetically. It wasn't fair that it always fell on him.
"I'll be fine, though. Just need to be alone after some of them."
You nod again, not trusting yourself to say much. As you turn to leave, taking his words as your cue, he speaks again.
"You can stay."
You turn back, your head tilting in some confusion as you meet his eyes once more. He looks at you for a second longer, before reaching over to the side table and grabbing a second glass. He pours from the bottle of good scotch that Rossi had given him last Christmas while you watch him.
Proffering the glass in your direction, he beckons you forward. "You're easy to be alone with."
Somehow, in a slight daze, you manage to walk back towards the couch, reaching out and grasping the heavy crystal glass in your hand. He motions for you to join him and you sink into your usual spot, tucking your legs underneath yourself.
His eyes stay on you as you settle in and take a sip of the scotch, feeling it burn your lips, the tip of your tongue, before blooming into a subtle smoky sweetness in your mouth, settling into your stomach like dying embers.
"Are you alright?" he asks, watching you carefully.
You try not to squirm under his inspecting gaze, unable to offer much beyond a shrug. "I will be."
It's quiet for a moment as he continues to look at you and you distract yourself with a stray thread in the cushion stitching.
You hear him clear his throat, shifting slightly on the couch so that his leg bends at the knee as he turns his body to face you, arm stretched out on the back of the couch, fingers grazing the top of your shoulder. "You did everything you could."
You feel that heavy tug in your stomach, unable to look at him, knowing that your face would betray you entirely.
He says your name, soft on his lips, gentle with every part of you. He waits until you look up at him, meeting his brown eyes that held the warmth of an everlasting hearth.
"You did."
You nod slowly, because who were you to disagree with him. Because if Aaron Hotchner said you did everything you could, then maybe it was true.
Not much more is said that night, as the two of you sit side by side.
Pro: You could be alone with Aaron Hotchner.
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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years
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The Reward of Suffering
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Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13. 
Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins​
A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!
Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader
Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk
Word count: 12.1k
           “Reid is in jail.”
           I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.
           Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.
           “Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.
           “In Mexico.”
My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.
It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.
“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.
“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”
Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”
“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”
For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.
There was no way he would throw all of that away.
“What type of drugs?”
“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.
Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.
“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.
“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.
Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.
I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.
“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”
I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.
“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”
Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.
“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”
           The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.
--
           “This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”
           “Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.
           “The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.
           “Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”
           “We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.
           “Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.
           “Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.
           “Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
           “Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”
           “How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”
           “Three days.”
           “That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.
The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.
Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.
“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”
“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.
“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.
“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”
I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.
But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.
“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.
“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.
A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.
“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”
“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.
“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”
Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.
I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.
When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.
“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.
“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.
Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.
“Get clean? What are you talking about?”
I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.
“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.
Thank God for Luke Alvez.
After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”
Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.
“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”
A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.
“You two are close, I take it?”
I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.
“He’s my best friend.”
Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.
“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.
Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.
“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.
“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”
“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”
“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”
“Only if they’re cute.”
And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.
“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”
Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.
“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”
My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.
“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”
I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.
When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.
I absolutely hated it.
“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”
--
The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.
“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.
“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.
“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.
“No.”
Color me unsurprised.
“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”
“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”
I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.
Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.
Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.
My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.
“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.
Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.
I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.
I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.
“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.
“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.
Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.
“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.
           “We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.
           “Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.
           Spencer was quicker to respond this time.
           “Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”
           Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.
           “Where did you meet her?”
           Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.
           “I… I don’t remember.”
           “If you saw her, would you remember her?”
           Spencer nodded in affirmation.
           “You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.
           “It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”
           “And you’ve been drugged?”
           I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.
           “Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.
           “Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”
           Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.
           “Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.
           Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.
Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.
           Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.
           “Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.
           Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.
           “Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”
           Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
           “No.”
           “Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.
           “Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.
           Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.
           “Can… Can you stay?”
           Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.
           “I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.
           “Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.
           Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.
           And then there were two.
           I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.
           “Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.
           As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.
           “About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”
           “I’m… In Mexico.”
           A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.
           “You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”
           I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.
           “It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”
           “Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”
           “Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”
           “How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.
           “I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”
           “Wait, so, where are you?”
           “I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.
           “Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”
           I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.
           “The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”
           “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”
           “I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”
           “I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”
           There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.
           “Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.
“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”
           “Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”
           “I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”
           “Love you, too.”
           I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.
           For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.
           I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.
           I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.
           I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.
           “I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”
           He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.
           I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.
           “Do you remember what happened to your hand?”
           Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.
           “I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.
           “M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.
           Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.
           “Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”
           The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.
           “Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”
           The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.
           It would have to be enough for now.
--
           Nadi Ramos was dead.
           I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.
           I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.
           And target him he fucking did.
           “We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.
           “How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.
           “She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.
           Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.
           “We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”
           “What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.
           “He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”
           I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.
           “Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”
           Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.
           “It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.
           “Do I want to know?”
           Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.
           “Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”
           “I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.
           “Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.
           “I’ll try.”
           Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.
           “There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”
           Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.
           “What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.
           Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.
Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,
“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”
           “I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.
           Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.
           “Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”
           Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.
           “I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.
           “Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”
           Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.
           “I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.
           I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.
           “I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”
           I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.
--
           When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.
           We are so beyond fucked.
           “How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.
           “He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”
           “They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”
           Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.
--
           While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.
           “We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.
           “I don’t know how.”
           “He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.
           “If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”
           “Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.
           “Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”
           “I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”
           Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.
           “Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”
           “So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”
           “I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”
           I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.
--
           “We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”
           “Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.
           “Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”
           “Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.
           “We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”
           Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.
           “Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.
           “Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”
           “That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.
           “Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”
           “I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”
           “So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.
           “It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.
           “Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.
           “Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”
           “Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.
           “You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”
           “I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”
           “Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.
           “Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”
           “We need to know more about her,” Clara said.
           And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.
           “What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.
           Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.
           “There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”
           “Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.
           “Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”
           “Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.
           “Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.
           “So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.
           “Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.
           “Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”
           “Garcia, I have some questions for you.”
           “Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.
           “Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”
           “I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.
           “Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”
           “Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.
           “Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”
           “That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.
           “What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”
           “Why?”
           “Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”
           “Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.
           “Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”
           “This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.
           Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.
           “It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.
           “We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”
           Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.
           “I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.
           One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.
           “With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”
           Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.
           I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.
--
           “We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.
           Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.
           “I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.
           “It was for the right reason.”
           “I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.
           “We do, too.”
           Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.
           “Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.
           “Effective immediately,” Matt added on.
           We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.
           “I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”
           I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.
           “I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.
           “Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.
           Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.
           “For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”
           I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.
           We cannot give him that recording.
           Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.
           “I didn’t record it.”
           Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.
           “But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.
           “I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”
           Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.
           Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.
           “You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”
           “We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.
           But so is Scratch.
--
           All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.
           Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.
           “You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.
           “I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”
           “You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”
           Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.
           “Since when did you get so insightful?”
           A grin stretched its way across his face.
           “Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”
           “And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.
I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.
“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”
Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.
“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”
Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.
“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”
“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”
Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.
“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”
A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.
“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”
I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.
“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.
I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.
“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.
“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.
“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.
“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”
Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.
“You’re entirely too good to me.”
“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”
No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.
--
Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.
JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.
“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.
Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.
“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”
Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?”            “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”
I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;
Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.
JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.
Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.
Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.
Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.
Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.
Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.
That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.
I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.
“We’re on our own.”
And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.
There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.
           -Storm Constantine
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floatinginwords · 3 years
Text
Saved by the Devil (17/?) - Thomas Shelby
Summary: Father and reader are reunited, Reader faces her past and future at once. (Im getting better kind of?) 
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader (Romantic)
Warning: Unhealthy father and daughter relationship.
A/N: This chapter took oh so long but I’m glad that we get to see this relationship between Father and Daughter in this one. Also i named the father George so sorry if you know someone named George. Comments and feedback is always appreciated and as always have a good night and take care of yourselves. 
Italics = flashback
George (L/N), your father was a man that everyone feared. You knew this ever since you were a little girl. You saw the air he prided himself with, the way people parted like the red sea whenever he walked, the way no one would look him in his eye. You used to worship the ground he walked on. You would cry on to your mother why you couldn’t spend more time with the man, she would give you a look that you didn’t understand then. She was horrified when George did decide to take you for a tour of his ‘office.’ She could do nothing but watch you bounce happily away on your father hand. You still remember the day.
 “You can’t take her, not there.” Your mother cried to him
 “Shes gonna need to learn sooner or later.”
 “Then later!” She yelled.
 He ignores her cries as he drags you along. You had a big smile at finally getting time with your father. You didn’t understand why she was against this.
The walk was brisk, you even stopped for a treat. You ended up jumping from one place to another. Your father talking to people, shaking their hands. You noticed how they looked to him like a leader. So you asked.
 “Im a boss honey,” He answered, “You will be too one day. You’ll help me run all this.”
 “Really?” you said
 “You just gotta be tough. Can you do that?”
 You nodded pulling off your toughest face. The next place he leads you is some old train tracks that aren’t used anymore. A group of men stand around in a circle. All of them waiting for him.
 “You brought a kid to this?” One of them says.
 “You got a problem with that?” George says cocking his gun you didn’t realize he had.
 The man shakes his head no and pints where the rest of them gather, “They got him over there.”
Your father no longer holds your hand as he walks ahead of you. You follow slowly. You can see the man in the middle of the circle. Looking worn down and beaten. Your father stands ahead of him, he plays with gun in the air. He talks words you block out. You just watch the man as is eyes loosely follow your father. He cries uncontrollable begging for his life. You see his body fall before you hear the gun. You don’t cry, you don’t say a word. Your father pats you on the head and says you did good.
 Soon he took you everywhere and anywhere, spending more time with him less with your mother. You became a different person as you became used to the violence. You saw different side of your father more than once but he still treated you like a good. He wanted you prepared for anything and you just wanted to prove that you could be. So learning wasn’t an issue and neither was the perfection you set yourself up for. You became a mini version of him, you didn’t mind unlike your mother who was just horrified. She fought for you to stay in school when he would convince you to leave. She wanted to to date, have a normal job. But you wouldn’t listen to her. You father was your hero at the time you saw nothing wrong with anything that was happening.
 “Your tainting her. Its not good for her to be around this stuff.”
 You listen from atop of the stairs, now only seventeen.
 “Son or daughter, my child is gonna learn the business and learn it right!” He yelled
 “Then ill tell the police, everything I know. Ill take her away or- or”
 “Are you threatening me?”
 “I want my daughter back! You’re running her.”
 “She’s growing up, deal with it.” He turns away from her, gives her the side eye before walking out. You go to sleep, hoping for them to forgive and forget.
 You wake in the middle of night for a glass of water when you found your mother dead. You cry for the first time over a dead body. Holding your mothers hand close to her face, hoping for  a reaction. Your father walks in and pauses. You can see through your lashes that his hands were stained red. You don’t say anything. He brings  out two shovels and hands one to you. George tells you nothing more but to dig in the backyard.
 You don’t. He scolds you for not listening, for not working faster. He digs it himself. He doesn’t look you in the eye as you watch his bury dirt on top of your mother. You share a tea later in the night. You just watch the inside of your cup, the steam rising up. He drinks his greedily, eating cookies as if it’s a regular Sunday morning.
That’s when your relationship changed. You begun to bicker and challenge everything he said or did. You couldn’t understand why he would do that. Or how he even could. You didn’t know what you could do, so you held the emotions in for a long time. Growing distant with your father. He confronts you on your behavior and you no longer hokd your tounge with him.
 “You killed her. Why?”
 “You wouldn’t understand.”
 “I had to bury her, do you know what that was like?”
 “In this business you’ll have to bury a lot more like her.”
 “she had nothing to do with it.” You state.
 He looks at your small figure, your eyes welling up with tears. “Don’t cry.”
 “Why did you do it? Why did you kill my mother?” You press the issue your voice growing louder wanting , needingthe answer. Wanting all this to make sense.
 “Why does it matter? So you can tell the whole city?” He turns on you quick.
 “What if I did, does that scare you?”
 “Watch your mouth girl.”
 “Is that why you killed my mother? Cause she didn’t watch her mouth.” He gets up quickly punching a hole in the wall near your face. You stay still as tears fall from you eyes slowly.
 No longer were the two of you a pair. The father daughter duo was dead. He iced you of the business. Meeting happening without you, transactions with your knowledge. He treated you like a stranger he shared a house with. But every chance you got when you would see him. You questioned him, wanted him to feel bad. No answer at this point would satisfy you, you know that. But you hoped the guilt would eat at his soul for the rest of time. You were there to remind him. And he didn’t like that.
It was the day before you turned eighteen, when you were surprised with a knock on the door. The men claimed to be doctors as they grabbed you by the wrist, throwing you in their car, declaring you insane. You didn’t understand what was happening and that only made them laugh sealing their opinion on what state your mind was as you panicked. The doctors told you nothing but that your father had expressed concerns over your health. And that he was doing this for your own good. Being there made you feel insane but you tried your best to repeal the order to get out. But the doctors were well played off, some of the nurses being Georges goons, no one would let you out unless he said so. Until Tommy Shelby came in, of course you were finally free from that cage.
 So now you stand in front of this man, you had idolized and called father. A man who now is only a murderer, a thief, a low life, your enemy. You clench your jaw as he opens his arms to you. The wrinkles on Georges face crease as he smiles. He’s older in the face and hold a cane in his hand.
 “What? No hug?”
 “Fuck off.”
 “What a lovely choice of words. Im glad to see your okay. I meant to visit…” You glare at him, “but I’ve been busy. Its good to finally find you.”
 “You don’t have to play dumb. How long have you been following me. Ive noticed since a month ago.”
 “Hmm you’re slacking. Its been longer than that. You really think I would let my daughter be out and about, not knowing shes safe.”
 “I had hoped the rumors of your death were true. Guess I hoped too much.”
 “Ah yes your little hit on me. Didn’t go as planned did it.” He glances over at the smoke floating in the town miles from us, “Your work I assume.”
 “Did you do that to Trinity?”
 “It wasn’t anything personal. No need to throw a tantrum.”
 You huff and hold yourself back from stabbing right where he stood. “You had no right-“
 George interrupts you, “After the stunt you pulled. Asking Thomas Shelby to kill me in exchange you tell him a few locations. You know what he did when he found me. He shook my hand. The man helps me fake my death, im off to America. Can you guess where?”
 “New York.”
 “That’s right and its bigger and its booming, honey. And here you are sleeping with a man who lies to you, who is no different than me or the other men ive killed or hurt.”
 “Im not-not” You blush at the accusation your father throws to you. You had forgotten for a second how Tommy Shelby was involved in this. You remember asking him and never getting a clear answer. Especially when you were so unsure with what was going on, you should have pressed more. Not been so easy to trust him. You could have been more prepared for this, left the country sooner.
 “Listen, I’m just here to help you-“
 “By locking me up calling me crazy, or was it when you killed my mother, or had me followed or when you killed my friend.”
 “I understand your mad. But honey we are better as a team than not. Remember me and you fighting the world together.” He uses a funny light hearted voice. One that he would use only to manipulate you when you were younger.
 “What do you want from me?”
 He sighs, “I need a peace treaty. And the family’s got this son.-“
 You scoff, “Are you kidding me?”
 “its what best for our family. And honestly you have no choice in the matter. Ill drag you there myself if I have to.”
 “I’d like to see you try.” You pull put your knife and hold it out in attack position.
 “You’re gonna kill me, your old man,” He uses a mockingly sad voice before erupting into a mad laughter, “You might as well do it now cause you wouldn’t want me as your enemy.”
 “I think it might be too late for that.”  You press the knife against your own throat, pressing hard against your skin. You can feel a trickle of warm blood run down. Now George finally panics.
 “Hey, Hey! Don’t do that!” He yells.
 “Walk out of here and don’t turn back.  Now! “You command.
 Your father follows your orders because you knew it as well as he that in this game you were now an important chess piece. And he wouldn’t have no use with a dead bride.
 “I’ll be seeing you very soon.” He says as he walks further and further away. You watch until his figure is nothing more than a blur. That’s when you finally release the grip on your knife.
You sit down on the ground and quietly sob into your hands. You don’t know the time when you finally stop but its still night and still no train. You hear the sound of a lighter flicking on. You curse under your breath as you get up, ready to die tonight if it meant not being in your fathers plan.
 “You are really testing my patience tonight.” You say turning around. Only it wasn’t your father standing there.
 “Cigarette? You look like you could use one.” The deep voice says. And there you are, Face to face once again with Thomas Shelby.
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toomanyrobins · 3 years
Text
MINIMAL LOSS
summary: Spencer and Y/N head into the Separtarian Sect and are greeted with trouble.
pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
content warnings: few swear words, guns, character death, violence, cult behavior
word count: 3.7k
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It had been a few months since Y/N had joined the BAU. Despite initial worries, she fit right into the team. She had joined the women for girls’ night and even helped Garcia plan JJ’s baby shower. Hotch was truly showing how much trust he held by sending the two youngest teammates on their own assignment. Y/N and Spencer were in a car in La Plata with Nancy, a CPS worker, on their way to Liberty Ranch. Spencer played the call for the three of them: “He comes into my bedroom and lays with me. He says it's god's will. I'm only 15. And I'm not the only one. Please help me!” 
Y/N turned to Nancy, “Who is the ‘he’?”
“I believe the ‘he’ that they referred to is the church's leader: Benjamin Cyrus.”
Reid flipped open the file and leaned forward so that Y/N could look at it too. She smiled appreciatively at him, “Benjamin Cyrus--No criminal record. No record at all, really. What else do you know about him?
Nancy shrugged, “It's rumored that he's practicing polygamy and forced marriages.
Y/N scanned the file as Spencer read aloud, “Do we know who the caller is?”
“Jessica Evanson is the one who the age fits, But...we can't be sure. I negotiated interviews with all the children. It wasn't easy.”
“Well, considering their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn't identify us as FBI. Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Y/N and Reid left their badges and gun in the car. The trio pulled up and was greeted by a single man lounging on the stairs. He seemed unimpressed by their presence and continued to read his book. Y/N noted that the act seemed a bit over the top and a definite attempt to appear nonchalant about their visit.
Nancy walked up to him, “I'm looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.”
The man walked down the stairs, shutting the Bible in his hands, “You found him.”
“I'm Nancy Lunde. We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”
“Savages they call us because our manners differ from theirs.”
“We didn't come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.
“Actually, It's a Benjamin Franklin.” Y/N smiled softly at the ever fact-driven Dr. Reid.
Nancy motioned at the two of them, “Y/N Emard and Spencer Reid -- they’re child victim
interview experts.”
“How far from God's word must we have strayed for there to be the need to invent a job called child victim interview expert?”
“We wish we didn't have to be here,” Y/N said.
So do we. But you are welcome, nonetheless. The children are in the school,” He pointed to the building behind him.
Nancy nodded and thanked him. The two women forged ahead, but Y/N stopped when she heard Spencer remark on the compound’s use of solar power.
“We're completely self-sufficient,” Cyrus explained, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said, ‘God helps those that help themselves.’ You look surprised.” Y/N noticed that Spencer was working to build a relationship with Cyrus and followed Nancy to begin interviews. They decide to start Jessica: the suspected victim. Y/N immediately noted the defensive posture that the 15-year-old held. Her mother, Kathy, stood beside her and looked much more submissive.
“So, what does a normal day on the ranch look like for you?” Y/N inquired.
“We go to school. We do our chores. And we treat ourselves and each other with the respect that God demands.”
“But you've never been off of the ranch?
Kathy spoke, “I brought Jessie here when she was 2.”
The young girl had a very sour look on her face and had her hands folded tightly in anger, “You've talked to lots of children in your work. Tell me, are their lives somehow better than ours? We devote ourselves to God.” Kathy put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder to calm her.
Y/N reassured the teen, “We are not here because of your religious beliefs.”
“Then why are you here?”
“We received a phone call alleging that an adult male member of your church was having inappropriate relations with the younger women here.”
“You're talking about Cyrus.”
Reid had joined them and heard the last bit of the conversation, “What makes you say that?”
Kathy tried to stop her daughter, but the indignation was clear. “Is it inappropriate for a husband to share a bed with his wife?
Y/N was shocked, “You are married to Cyrus?”
“Yes. Cyrus is my husband and a prophet. It's an honor to bear his children.
“Jessica, you're 15 years old. The state of Colorado requires parental consent.”
Y/N stared at Kathy and saw the regret in her eyes. She looked up at Reid, “She gave consent.”
Before they could continue to question, they were interrupted by members of the ranch coming in armed. They forced the three outsiders back and pointed their weapons at them. ”What's going on?” Nancy demanded. Three men came over and patted them all down. Y/N dug her heel into the man’s toe when she felt him linger. He groaned and stepped back with a scowl, nodding to Cyrus to confirm that all three were weapon-free.
“We just got a very strange phone call from a news reporter. Is there anything you want to tell me about a raid, maybe?” All three of them were shocked. Especially Y/n and Spencer since they knew that JJ had checked with other agencies before sending them in. Cyrus shook his head, “They don't know.” The men shepherded the woman and children through tunnels hidden under the buildings to a bunker filled with weapons. Gunfire could be heard overhead as instructions were given by Cyrus. 
Y/N and Spencer both saw how the guns lining the walls. She whispered, “Where did all these guns come from?”
Spencer shook his head, “I don't know. Garcia checked with the state police.” Nancy broke free of the group in the bunker and hurried up the church, thinking she could stop the raid from continuing. They heard the gunfire cease and he whispered again, “The raid is over.”
“What does that mean?”
“Either Cyrus convinced them to leave or this is over a lot faster than we thought.” When the men returned back down, Y/N realized that they were stuck in the compound again. Spencer inquired into where Nancy had gone and Cyrus explained that she had been shot by the Colorado authorities. 
“They’re pulling out.”
Reid shook his head, “Not for long.” They were stuck in the bunker while the male members of the cult all armed themselves. 
Y/N leaned over, “The team will have to be on its way now that a failed raid will be on the news. 
“With an average flight time of five and a half hours between DC and the La Plata County Airport plus the half hour drive out to the ranch, I estimate that they’ll be here by 4 o’clock, maybe 4:30 depending on who drives.” Y/N and Reid stayed trapped in the bunker, covered by an armed member at the door.
Y/N needed grounding and turned to Spencer, “What is the playbook here?”
“If the BAU is put in charge, which I imagine they will be because we are inside, they will go for the minimal loss situation. Statistically, it is improbable that they will get every member out, so they will do their best to save as many as possible. With the indoctrination in cults like this, some will be too far gone. It will be impossible to convince them that what they have been following is a lie. They’ll first try to get out 1 or 2, then 3 or 4, and then as many as possible before it goes bad,” Spencer stopped talking and looked confused, “You haven’t told me to stop rambling.”
“Why would I tell you to stop? This is valuable information,” Y/N’s cheeks warmed, “Plus you have a nice voice. We are going to be here a while until someone gets in contact with Cyrus. Best to be informed and it seems that you’re a wealth of information, Dr. Reid.” 
Despite the situation, Spencer smiled and continued talking quietly to Y/N about the tactics used. She asked him questions and let him answer them with as much information as he had. Y/N had seen him get cut off by the others before, and she understood why they did it, but she realized he probably didn’t get to share to his heart’s content often and currently they had a minimum 6 hours of waiting ahead of them. That plan was cut short by Cyrus coming back down. He brought them all up to the church. The duo were off to the side, watching as Rossi came in carrying a box. He was patted down and Cyrus spoke to him. Y/N and Spencer were both careful to keep any hint of recognition off of their face, knowing that even a twinge of weakness could seal their fates. 
Rossi let his eyes pass over the duo, before turning to Cryus, “I’d hope you let me take the children.”
“Nah, they’re our protection. I remember Waco... we all do. They stay for now. While I pray for God’s guidance. Please don’t try to force us out.”
“No one’s gonna try to force you out of here.” The two men walked to the door and Rossi left again. 
The moment he was out the door, Cyrus ordered a member to prepare wine, “We are celebrating. Everyone drinks. Everyone rejoices. Because today we are one day closer to being with him.”
Y/N watched a scene unfold in front of her and brushed her hand against Spencer’s to get his attention, “Look at Jessica’s body language. The way she looks at him. She literally worships him.”
Spencer nodded, “There is no way she made that 911 call.”
They both watched as Kathy stood up to speak to her daughter, “Look how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter. She's inserted herself between them. I don’t think Kathy is as devout a follower as she wants people to believe. Cyrus isn’t the most important thing to her; Jessica is.” Spencer squeezed her hand in silent agreement. 
Cyrus began preaching from the front as all the followers drank the wine, “Acknowledge him in all things and he will guide your way. Drink to acknowledge him and I will guide our way. We will be with him soon. We drank the poison together. Mothers… Fathers… Children, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we fear no evil, for thou art with us.”
Y/N eyes widened and she looked up at Spencer, “What do we do?”
He shook his head, “Nothing.”
“We have to do something. These people just took poison.”
“Cyrus just told them they did. I think he's just bluffing. Just after he told them about the poison, he waited for them to start to react. Then, he nodded to Cole and he started writing. They're scanning the audience looking for reactions. They're writing down the names of the people who are crying.
Realization hit Y/N, “It's a loyalty list. So he knows who will follow him to the end.”
Cyrus spoke again, “Be still. There was no poison. Instead a test of faith. Because your adversary, the devil, waltzes about as a roaring lion, choosing whom he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother's keeper.”
After the test, they forced Y/N and Spencer back into the bunker. A guard again stationed by the door. It wasn’t long before Cyrus came back into the bunker, anger written across his face, “Which one of you is it? Which one of you is an FBI agent?”
Spencer and Y/N shared a look. “Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?
“God will forgive me for what I must do.”
Spencer kept his face confused and innocent, “I--I don't know what you're talking about.”
Cyrus cocked a gun and pointed it at Spencer’s forehead. “One of you does. Who is it?”
Y/N knew that Spencer had built a rapport with the sect leader. She took a deep breath, “Me. It's me.”
Spencer looked at her worriedly as Cyrus uncocked the weapon. He flew forward and grabbed Y/N by her hair, dragging her into another room, “I told you not to put me in this position!” She tried to stand, but he backhanded her. She got up again, staring determinedly at him. This time, Cyrus threw her into the wall. Y/N crashed into a mirror and felt the shards cut her arms and face. He continued to preach while beating her, “Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.
Y/N remembered what Reid had said about the FBI trying to find a way to listen in, she had to stop them from coming in, “I can take it.” Cyrus thought she was antagonizing him and hit harder. She repeated herself, “I can take it.” Y/N hoped that the team understood that she could handle this fight and not blow the operation by trying to save her.
“Pride comes before the fall,” Cyrus punched her in the stomach and threw her to the floor. Y/N lay on the floor, trying to catch her breath after the last kick to her stomach knocked the wind out of her. He called for another man to come in, “Tie her up. Put her upstairs.
Kathy snuck into the room they had trapped Y/N in. She had brought a small first aid kit and cleaned the blood away from her face and removed bits of glass, “You should have told Cyrus who you were. He's a prophet. He predicted Satan's armies would come and lay siege to us.
Every inch of Y/N’s body hurt, but she knew she couldn’t give up. She looked at Kathy, “There's a name for that kind of prophecy-- self-fulfilling.”
“You don't know how dangerous It is to lie to him.”
“I know it would take a brave woman to defy him, Knowing the consequences. And that woman would have to have a damn good reason to do it. Kathy sucked in air when she realized that Y/N had suspicions about who made the 911 call that had led to them coming to the compound. She left the room and Y/N let her head fall back against the pillows, hoping that she was getting to the woman. 
She tried to track how long had passed but when the sun set, she had no measure of time. It hadn’t been long before the door to the room flew open and the same man who had tied her up entered. He roughly dragged her up and cut the rope binding her wrist. He kept his weapon trained on her and forced her into the church, where everyone else was. 
Cyrus stood at the altar, “It has come to my attention that some of our brothers and sisters have lost their faith in God. That they no longer love us. They want to abandon us. So when I call out your name, please stand.”
Spencer came up to her. She kept her eyes trained on the sect leader, “He looks pissed.” She turned to him and smiled softly when she saw the worry in his eyes, “Spencer, it's not as bad as it looks. I’ve had worse.”
“I'm so sorry,” Spencer scanned over Y/N’s body, taking in every injury inflicted by Cyrus. Moments like this, he hated his eidetic memory; knowing he would never forget the beating Y/N took to protect him. Their attention was drawn back to the members, 
“Look at who he's releasing. It's the ones who failed the loyalty test. I'll get word to the team. Wait for a sign from outside to indicate what time the raid will come.” Spencer walked away from her to speak to Cyrus. He turned and nodded to her, before she was dragged back up the room. Her arms were tied again and she was thrown on the bed. 
Y/N nodded off for a few hours, but had woken up when the sun had started to rise, cursing herself for falling asleep. Y/N situated herself on the bed and used her shoe to pull the blinds down. She knew that the glass needed to vibrate in order for them to hear her, “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 continued to repeat herself, when a red dot shone on the opposite wall, “Ok. Ok. I got you. What time?” The dot held steady for a moment and then moved 90 degrees. “3 a.m.?” The dot moved up and down confirming, “Understood. Reid is on the first floor somewhere with Cyrus. And, please, remember there are children here.” Y/N heard someone coming and dropped her foot, letting the blind close again.
Kathy came back into Y/N’s room. She helped her sit up and gave her a glass of water. This was Y/N’s last chance to convince Kathy to held, “Cyrus is planning a mass suicide. You made that 911 call.”
The woman shook her head regretfully, “This is all my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn't of made that call.
“You were trying to protect your daughter. No one would fault you for that”
“There were other girls before Jessie. He--he would marry them in secret, and after a while he'd take another. And we weren't permitted to speak of it. So, when she asked for my consent, I wanted to just take her and run. But I was afraid she wouldn't leave him.”
“You wanted us to take her.”
“Well, I--I wanted to save her from Cyrus.”
“I can give you another chance. The FBI is coming here at 3 a.m. I need you to gather Jessica, the kids, the other women -- get them into the basement just before 3 a.m.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I have faith that you are a strong enough woman to do the right thing for Jessica.” Kathy stood and walked out of the room without another word. Y/N was left with the hope that she had gotten through to the woman. 
Only a few moments later, Kathy came back. She helped Y/N sit up and removed the bindings from her wrists, “You were right. They're setting the place to blow up. I told Jessie that Cyrus wanted her to gather the women and children.”
Y/N’s thoughts were on Spencer, “Where is the man I came in with?”
“He's in the chapel with Cyrus. It's 2:45, though, we gotta hurry.” Y/N and Kathy rushed to get the women and children down to the basement, careful to avoid any of the armed men. 
Once they got to the basement, Derek and Rossi were waiting for them. He rushed up to her, “Y/N, Y/N, you all right?
“Worry about me later, Derek. They've wired explosives.” Kathy and the agents rushed everyone out of the compound. 
“Where's Reid?”
“He's in the chapel with Cyrus.”
Rossi turned to her, “We gotta get you out of here.
“No. We've gotta get Reid!
Derek grabbed her shoulders, “I will get Reid. Get out of here. Get to safety. Go now.” Y/N nodded and followed after the rest of the members. She stayed watching the building as the other continued to run. Y/N had to know that Spencer was okay. The church exploded and Y/N fell to the ground, covering her head. Once the smoke cleared, she stood up, “Reid! Morgan? Reid? Morgan!”
“We're ok!” Derek called.
Spencer ran up to her and wrapped her in a hug, “Are you okay?” She nodded and he put his arm around her, helping her to walk to get medical attention. Only once he was certain she was getting help did he leave.
Y/N sat in the back of an ambulance as the paramedic pulled shards of glass from her arms, and bandaged and disinfected the cuts on her face. JJ came over to check on her, “How bad is it?”
“Everything is sore, but the worst is cuts from the mirror he slammed me into. They said I don’t even need to go to the hospital.”
“Take it easy and don’t move until one of us comes to help you. Understand?”
Y/N smiled, “You’re already such a mom, JJ.” The blonde laughed and sat next to her, one hand on her belly.  The rest of the night passed quickly and soon the team was on the jet back to DC. Y/N sat next to Spencer on the couch, “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Y/N gently pulled the book out of his hands and put her hand in his, forcing him to put all of his attention on her, “I need you to listen to me. What Cyrus did to me is not your fault. It was my decision, and I would do it again. Do you hear me?” Spencer nodded. Y/N smiled at him and handed him his book back. She tucked her feet under the blanket and put her head on his shoulder, exhaustion weighing her eyelids down. Spencer read to her, remembering what she said about his voice, until he was sure she was asleep. The team all shared looks at the familiarity between the youngest teammates and smiled.
When they landed, Spencer offered to drive her home. The duo ended up at Y/N’s apartment. They ordered Chinese food and Y/N let him turn on Star Trek and explain all of the science and how it was ahead of its time. By the end of the night, Y/N had her legs slung across his lap and a frozen pea bag on her bruised face. She fell asleep sometime during the fourth episode. Spencer turned the TV off and covered her with a blanket. He quickly put the leftovers and peas away, and even laid out some Advil and water on the coffee with a note for when she woke up. 
Y/N,
You fell asleep and I decided you need your sleep. I put the food away and the peas back in the freezer. Take the Advil when you wake up. You’re going to need it. Text me when you wake up and I’ll pick you up. You shouldn’t drive until you’ve healed.
Dr. Spencer Reid
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merakiaes · 4 years
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What She Left Behind - Aaron Hotchner
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Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader
Requested: Yes. 
Prompts: None. 
Warnings/notes: Another, for the most part, narrative short-story requested by the anon in my inbox. I really like writing these. Not proofread so sorry in advance for any mistakes, let me know what you thinkg and send in more requests xx
Wordcount: 1802
Summary: Haley would be proud and happy, about Aaron’s choice of person to replace the hole she left behind. 
When you moved from New York to Quantico, Virginia, to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Erin Strauss’s request, the last thing you expected to do was to fall in love with your boss. And yet, that’s exactly what you ended up doing.
He was cold toward you to a start, pushed your buttons and your limits in an attempt to get you do snap or act out of line, so he could get a reason to remove you from your position like he knew Strauss was attempting to do him by hiring you.
You had no idea why he was being so rude to you when he didn’t even know you. At first you only guessed that’s who he was to everyone, but it didn’t take long for you to come to the conclusion that you were the only one getting the “special” treatment.
It wasn’t until two weeks into your stay that Erin finally approached you with the hidden motives she’d had all along, going on about how Hotch was supposedly unfit to continue leading the team.
You weren’t happy in the slightest about the way you had been treated since you started but you wasted no time in coming to his defense, telling Strauss that he was, in fact, the best leader this team could get, and if the only reason that she hired you was because she expected you to step up and take his place, then you would gladly hand in your badge and look for work elsewhere.
Rossi, to whom Hotch had voiced his irritation and concerns after Strauss had directly approached him with her plan, overheard the entire conversation from outside the office and wasted no time in repeating every single word and praise he had heard fall from your lips to the man about whom said words and praises were about.
It was right after a solved case that Hotch found out what you had done and said, and while you were getting ready to leave the office after finally finishing all of the dreadful paperwork, he approached you to apologize about the way he had been acting, and to thank you for what you had done.
This was shocking in itself, but you happily received the apology and small smile of gratitude that he offered, telling him you understood and that he didn’t need to worry about it.
You closed your bag and turned off the lamp at your desk, getting ready to leave. But much to your surprise, he stayed, and asked you out for drinks as a token of his gratitude.
You probably shouldn’t have seeing as you had to work again early the next morning, but you accepted against your better judgment and the two of you ended up spending the night together, if you catch my drift.
The team only had to see you arriving together to the jet the next morning to understand what was going on, and no one said anything about it, just shrugging their shoulders in acceptance of the new status of your relationship.
Despite the team knowing and being okay with it, however, you had to sneak around a lot, in order to keep your relationship a secret from Strauss.
It wasn’t until you were encouraged to go sign the paperwork that needed to be signed in order for the two of you to become an official couple, that the stress of your unprofessional behavior really caught up with you.
It ended up going alright though, after some separate scolding from Erin, she sent you on your way with your paperwork and a warning that if your relationship, in any way, compromised your abilities to properly do your jobs, she would relieve both of you of your positions in a heartbeat, which both of you accepted.
Signing those papers made everything a lot more real, and the only thing remaining now was for you to be introduced to Jack.
Everyone else on the team had met him, but simply for the reason that the two of you were more than colleagues, more than friends, Hotch was hesitant to introduce the two of you even though, in his heart, there was nothing he wanted to do more.  
Introducing you to Jack would cross off the final thing stopping you from becoming real and as it would become real, it would also make it all the more hurtful if he ever ended up losing you like he had Haley.
He had already involved his entire workplace and all your mutual colleagues in your relationship which would be hard enough to handle if you ever broke up, so having to deal with that with Jack was something he didn’t know if he was ready for.
Luckily and not much to his surprise seeing as you were the most compassionate human being he’d ever met, you understood, giving him all the time in the world and never bringing it up unless he was the one to start the conversation.
You were taking things slow, both for his sake and for Jack’s.
They way you saw it, he just didn’t want to rush into something and get attached only to figure out in the end that it wasn’t going to work, and Jack… Jack had already lost his mother and the last thing Hotch and you wanted now that he was older with a better grasp on reality and his memories, was for him to grow used to having you around and have you ripped away from him, too.
He needed security, something long lasting, and so did Hotch.
But despite your understanding nature, he was at conflict with himself. He was hesitant to introduce you to his son simply because of the risk that followed that he would have yet another mother figure ripped away from him, but he had promised Haley that he would show Jack what love was, so he knew he had to make a decision.
And secretly, while you were understanding and willing to give him all the time he needed, you really wanted to meet the little boy his father spoke so highly of, and he knew it.
It was Saturday night and Jack was with his aunt to allow Hotch some time to himself, some time with you.
Like every other time you got the chance to spend time together just the two of you, you had dinner together at his place and at the end of the night, found yourselves in his bed.
The air in the room was chilly, but you were everything but cold after the activities you had just partaken in.
Blanket loosely laying around your hips, you laid on Hotch’s chest, fingers drawing lazy circles over his chest as he did the same to your back.
“I want you to meet Jack.” His voice cut through the air after laying for minutes in silence, and your head immediately snapped up at the sound of his words.
“What?” You asked, eyes wide with shock and your hand now laying still on his chest. You knew he knew that you wanted to meet him, but you had not expected him to bring it up now, so soon.
His eyes shifted away from the ceiling to meet yours, his gaze and entire energy calm whereas you were anything but.
“If you want to, of course.” He added, and you slowly softened your face, getting off his chest and sitting up, pulling the sheets up with you to cover your bare chest.
“Aaron… Of course I want to meet him. But are you sure you’re not just doing this because you feel pressured? Because I’ll wait however long you need me to. After all, we’ve only been together for a short time.”
Hotch propped himself up on his elbow and reached out a hand to brush a misplaced lock of your hair into its rightful place. “You have been nothing but understanding, the last thing you would do is pressure me, intentional or not. I want the two of you to meet.”
His words were meant to assure you, but they did everything but, your lip ending up between your teeth.
“What if he doesn’t like me? I don’t want him to think I’m taking you away from him, or that I’m trying to take Haley’s place.” You said in a quiet voice, a bitter taste forming in your mouth as you recalled this being exactly how you had felt about your step-mother for so long back when you were just a child.
Hotch face grew sullen at the sound of your concerns. “He barely thinks about her anymore. I try to show him pictures and films of her, of her with me and of her with him, but I don’t do it nearly enough.”
His words and the sadness behind them tugged at your heart, and slowly, you laid back down next to him, bringing your hand up to his cheek.
“Then I’ll help you tell him how much she loved him, how much she loved you and how much you love her, so he never forgets her. I’ll make sure that he remembers her and knows how brave she was.” You promised and he smiled, a small smile, before pulling you in for a kiss to seal the deal.
You met Jack the following evening and all of your worries about not being accepted by him went straight out the window, the young boy loving you from the moment you walked through the door with Captain America themed cupcakes.
He adored you and wanted you around at all times just like his dad, but he was young, and confused.
He called you by your first name to a start, but after a while, he accidentally called you by the title Hotch never would’ve imagined for anyone other than Haley.
It was weird, hearing his son call you his mom, but as it eventually stuck, he got used to it, and even though you ended up taking on the role of a second parent, you took Jack to the big portrait of his mom standing in the living room shelf every evening to kiss it goodnight before putting him to bed, as promised never letting him forget where he came from.
You didn’t think Hotch noticed your nightly routine as he was usually the one left behind with the task of cleaning up after dinner while you went to get Jack ready for bed, but he did notice, and he couldn’t have been happier, knowing that Haley would’ve been so proud, and so happy, about his choice of person to fill the empty hole she left behind.
If she were there, she would say to him that you were a keeper, and he’d smile at her and nod, because he knew.
Tagged: @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @zizzlekwum​ @cozytruecrimeaddict​ @lovelynervouskingdom​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @cocoaxrain​ @rousethemouse​ @thesassmisstress​
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gummy-dummy · 3 years
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Hi everyone! This is my first fic on Tumblr, it's just here, for now, I'm excited and kinda nervous too, my native language it's Spanish and I'm trying to be better at English so sorry for the grammars mistakes, I hope you like it, dear reader.
Warnings: Probably bad grammar or mistakes, swearing, mention of knives, mentions of death, kinda cute, kinda soft, confused Dabi, he doesn't know but he a softie.
It was pretty late when Shoto and I started doing our night patrol, it had been 3 months since we graduated from the UA in the hero course, the first 4 of the class were invited to work at Endeavor’s agency, Deku, Dynamight, Shoto and me, Artemis. We were the new pro-heroes with the biggest expectation from the public.
Endeavor wasn't the best at talking but I trust him, also thanks to him I don't have to worry about rent, the agency offered departments near the agency, and the rooms in the agency’s building were comfortable enough, usually, the new group was Split into two for patrol, Deku always had to go with Dynamght, he was the only one who can keep up with Bakugo’s shit, Shoto and me, we already were pretty Good Friends, I even can say we are each other’s confidant, it was a pretty nice night shift together, the absence of noise and people (and Bakugo’s shit), made it go smoothly as always. We are used to talking about everything, in the streets we could say anything, and no one more than us knew what secrets lay between us. There were secrets that Shoto didn’t want his father to know, not that he cares, but just to protect the people that he loved.
The current number one hero thought that the friendship we share will eventually become a love story, but oh boy, little did he know. Shoto had romantic feelings for another hero, I am pretty much the only person that Shoto has physical contact with, hugs and rest on each other shoulders, that's why his dad thinks of us that way. I don’t have family near where we are but the Todoroki family accepted me as one of their own since Endeavor thinks that I and Shoto are together we had to explain to Shoto’s siblings and Mom that he was in love with someone else, they didn’t care at all.
Suddenly the cold wind of the night started to get weird, making the residual trash of the city blow roll in the air, we both started to run there to know what was happening, at the moment we got close enough a black and purple substance started emerging from nowhere, it was a warp, the kind that the League of Villains has Access to, Shigaraki Tomura came out first, being followed by the tall, half-burned popcorn (as Shoto and I like to call him) Dabi, Toga right behind them with other 3 members.
I summoned my light arrows on my bow, I shoot an arrow at the leader and the tall man with black hair just disintegrates it with his blue fire. Like it was nothing.‘What are you doing here?’ Shoto asked the team of villains, Shigaraki just started to laugh ‘We came to get some groceries, what the fuck he is trying to do? Distract us?
I just rolled my eyes and said ‘Yeah well, here, you have something to add to your list I quickly prepared my bow with a new arrow, this time a stronger one, that can’t be destroyed so easily. The amount of power that this one has, with the purple hue and the energy that makes everything feel like an earthquake made the leader of the team look at it with fear in his eyes, Dabi tried to take it with his fire, but nothing happened, the arrow just started to follow all of Shigaraki’s moves, so again the man in front of him tried to catch it with his bare hands, oh what an error was that. The indentation that my arrow left on his right hand wouldn’t heal properly at all, not till I gave the order to my arrow to disappear in the wind.
Dabi just looks at me, while the others started to attack us he just stayed on the side, watching every move I make, (with) Shoto work pretty well with each other, we know our quirks and how to enhance each other's quirks.
There was a lady that appears to be new into the league, I never saw her before, she started to shoot mini grenades from her hand, making me jump to the side to avoid it, one laid between my feet, I didn't notice it until it hit me if that thing blows I die.
I'm going to die here.
The last thing I heard was a scream, Shoto screaming my real name, and then... darkness.
The next thing I know is that I'm in a completely white room, very small, I'm chained to one of the sides of a small bed, being forced to stay seated on the cold floor, if I am in one of the League facilities why they want me here? the murder of a new pro-hero would be an accomplishment by the league, why don't make it while I sleep? it would be something to make all the world feel unsafe, make all the heroes feel in danger. I hear the noise of the door opening, someone calls my name.
Dabi, that jerk, wait he was the one that saved me, at the moment the grenade exploded he just took my arm and yanked me out of the way, and took me in the warp with him.
"Hey Hawkeye!", he looked different than the night of the attack, just with his t-shirt and trousers, not his usual jacket, he looks more laid back than when fighting. He started to look preoccupied while I think how to escape, I'm not responding to him.
"Shit, no, did they do something while I was gone? Hey look at me, can you hear me? oh, these little shits are going to pay, I told them not to touch you" I just roll my eyes and say "What the fuck do you want from me you extra crispy fried ass?" he just stares at me confused for a couple of seconds and says "I'm not- Hey don't talk to me like that I'm your savior, remember? maybe I would let them do things to you, maybe I could take this food and let you starve".
He has a plate in a hand and glass with what appears to be fruit juice on the other. "Why would you feed me? do you know that keeps me alive, right? why didn't you kill me already?" I'm really confused, isn't better to kill someone while they're asleep, or this mother fucker want's to torture me. "That's because I don't want to kill you, dummy hero". Then why did he bring me here? what is the league planning to do to me? so I ask what the league wants from me.
"What makes you think there's a plan behind this?"
"Why else would a fucking villain kidnap a pro-hero if not to use them for something?"
"Well, there's nothing behind this, no one knows why I have you here actually I don't even know why I did it, but you were going to die and I just acted"- oh he should let me die, I'm gonna kick his pretty face when I get the chance.
"What do you want? you know it was going to be easier to kill me while I was unconscious, right?"
"Why do you keep telling me to kill you?"
"This is why"- there's a thing that not a lot of people know about my quirk, the bow, and the arrows are just a form I use it to be more precise, that doesn't mean that's the only thing it does.
With my both hands tied I conjured a little of my energy to make a knife to set me free, I break the cloth that keeps me hand-tied to the bed, throwing a punch at his face, he doesn't move I'm trying to get Dabi down but he is just there, he is not moving or trying to attack me at all, looking at me with sadness in his eyes.
"Hey what the fuck, why don't you attack me? aren't you afraid that I'm going to beat your ass?"- He looks like he is in pain but doesn't fight back.
"I know you could," he says with a sad smirk, what's happening here? by a couple of times, I saw him before he never acted this way.
"Can you please just calm down, let me talk, and I'll let you go if you want"
I intertwined my eyes with him, a beautiful blue, exactly the color of his flames, I don't know why, but I want to hear what he has to say, he looks so sad, but also a little surprised when I sit at the small bed. It looks like he never thought I actually would hear his reasons.
He kicks gently the plate with the food by the side and sits on the little makeshift bed, the bed is so small that we can't avoid our knees touching, he doesn't try to tie my hands again, I could conjure a big weapon, maybe just a simple bat and then scape, I know I can win, so why am I anxious to hear him? he looks at me a couple of seconds, lets out a loud breath, and starts talking.
"Well, when you attacked me, I caught one of your arrows right?" he looks at me and I nodded "Look" he shows me his left hand, inviting me to take his hand on mine.
It's rough, more than calloused, the years of him using his quirk took a lot out of his hands, they were burned, when I touched him I thought it would hurt, but he just opened his eyes a little more in surprise and looked at me again.
"Ok you have your hands burned, what about it? it's your quirk right?" he lets out a little smile that if I wasn't looking at him this close probably would have missed it. "Yeah they're burned, I don't have feeling on them, even if I take something with force or catch anything, can't feel it."
I'm starting to understand what's happening here, but I want him to tell me anyways "Yesterday, when you shot your arrow when I caught it I-"why does he look so nervous? "I felt it, I felt the pain of the arrow, and I felt you, well, your quirk, whatever it is, I just felt your touch"
What I am supposed to say about that?- "I'm sorry?" I say confused "No no it's okay I just want to know how you did it" I don't know why I have the desire to touch him again, I need to help him, he is a villain, a cute one if I say so myself but a villain nonetheless. A villain very dangerous that just wants the world to burn, but look so lost, with the same face you see on a lost child on a Mall
"I don't know, my quirk it's just based on energy, I don't know where it comes from, It just appears when I want to and takes the form I need, I used to lost control over it a lot," I say while moving my fingers letting the violet ribbons go around my hand "Now I can control it using it as weapons, the one that makes me feel more comfortable is the bow and arrow, that way I can control it a little more, but I pretty much can conjure anything" He nodded and looks at my hand.
I show him again, letting a little ball of my energy dance between my fingers and let it go, I made it stay in one of his hands, he started playing with it, like a child with a new toy that was waiting to get for Christmas day, a smile started to appear on his face, not a cruel one, that he usually used, this one was of happiness, he looks handsome, the scars on his face makes him feel unique. I'm not sure what I'm doing till I come back to my senses, I'm catching his face between my hands, he just looks at me surprised.
I run my thumbs right below his eyes, he leans into the touch and closes his blue eyes.
"You know that I can attack you now and escape right?" "I know, but you don't want to do that, I am right?"
He is, he is sure about it and I am too, but why? he probably has me here to lend information about heroes, but he isn't asking anything about it.
"No, I don't want to, why? did you get me drugged or something?" I say smiling at him for the first time "No, Toga tried to get a little bit of your blood but every time she wanted to get a needle into your skin, a purple energy, your energy, surrounded you, Shigaraki wanted to use real knives but I- I didn't let them hurt you, I didn't want them to hurt you".
And to end: this is the first chapter, it's gonna be probably 2 o 3 chapters, I'll probably add some warnings if needed.
Love
Gummy.
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unmaskedagain · 4 years
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Happy Birthday, Miss Bustier
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Every year, Bustier looked forward to her birthday. All the teachers got together for drinks after school, and Bustier go show off all the wonderful presents her students got her. One gift in particular always was sure to wow.
However, the school year had been different than the previous ones. It had been a difficult year. The class seemed to be in a civil war. Marinette’s side versus everyone else. Caline was forced to expel Marinette after she was caught cheating. Only for it be revealed that she never cheated and Lila had a terrible disease that caused her to lie. The explosion was reversed and Bustier chalked it up to the students as terrible mistake.
Though the look Marinette had given her when she returned to class sent shivers up her spine.
Marinette resign as class president not long after. Lila took over but the sweet girl was so busy that the Alya and a few others were volunteered to step up and help out. Everything the class seemed to do or planned turn into a catastrophe.
An embarrassing one.
Caline started to avoid the teacher’s lounge after a bake sale ended up poisoning several of the students. Two of her students accidently started fires at another fundraiser. And the dance the class planned ended up with several students and two chaperones in the hospital because Lila ordered the gym floor to be waxed just before the dance.
She couldn’t take the snickering.
Plus, the other teachers had frequently needed to step in to sort out some of her students’ behavioral problems. Alya erupt in anger whenever she thought anyone had done anything wrong to her or her friends, got told off and given detentions many times before she finally learned her lesson. Alix had been caught tripping Marinette multiple times and had got suspended after the third incident. Lila had be verbally ordered by Mendeleiev to stop touching a clearly uncomfortable Adrien without his consent several times before she finally got the message. Mostly because Mendeleiev contact Adrien’s father and got a restraining order officially issued. Lila had to stay at least ten feet away from Adrien at all time when in class; fifty feet outside of it.
Which Caline thought was a bit harsh. She remembered what it was like to be a young girl in love. Emotions just overcome you at that age.
Normally, she would count on Marinette to rein the rest of the students in but girl had taken a step back from the other students. Or maybe they had taken a step back from her.
Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Nathaniel, Juleka and Rose seemed at odds with the rest of the students in class. And for the life of Caline’s she couldn’t figure out why. The small group never went to any fundraiser, vocally letting the class know they would not being going on any trips with them. They didn’t go to the dance, and Marinette made it clear she wouldn’t be helping decorate it. The costumes for the school play had been abysmal and not the usually quality they were; then Mylene informed Bustier that they couldn’t get their last costume designer to help out. Their last costume designer was Marinette.
The year had been rough but Bustier still looked forward to her birthday. Last year, she got a gorgeous cashmere scarf, the year before that an entire assortment of different chocolate pastries; every year, every all the gifts were amazing. She come on the morning of her birthday and find her entire classroom amazingly decorated, her students’ adoring faces looking at her, and a pile of presents on her desk.
This year was no different… technically.
The classroom was decorated but not nearly as well as it had been the previous years. It looked like the cheap decorations the other teachers were used to; not her. A majority of the students were smiling at her; but a few, Marinette and her team, just looked bored. There were presents on her desk but they all looked… basic.
Still Caline smiled happily and thanked her wonderful students for their thoughtful surprise and gifts. Only when they left for lunch, did she finally take time to examine them.
There were the usually gift cards, a box or two of cheap chocolates, some flowers, lovely handmade cards, some perfumes, and a gift basket full of amazing smelling various bath products, which was by far the best gift by far. But nothing outstanding like she usually got. Nothing she could show off to the other teachers as proof that her student adored her. It was the same type of gifts all the teachers got. Nothing extraordinary.
And it soured Caline’s cheerful mood a bit. She couldn’t understand it.
She still went out for drinks that night with the other teachers, still showed off her gift basket but saw none of the envious looks she was used to. When she got home, she looked over the presents again.
Bustier saw that each gift had was from a different student. Chloe and Adrien got her perfume. Rose got her gift card for a mani-pedi. Alya got her chocolates. She saw Marinette got her the gift basket and nodded, unsurprised; the girl always got her the best presents…
Caline paused. Marinette? Marinette got her the scarf from the year before; she made it. She also remember that Marinette was the one who gave her the delicious assortment of chocolate pastries from her parents’ bakery, the teacher supposed. In fact, as Caline thought back, Marinette always was one to get her the best gifts; whether it was for her birthday, Christmas, or teacher’s appreciation day.
Marinette was also one who always decorated the classroom, she recalled.
Marinette who had claimed to be too busy to be class president, to be on the decorating committee, to help fund raise, to make costumes for the school play, to be the good example for the class Caline needed her to be, and apparently too busy to get the fabulous gifts for her teacher like she used to.
Clearly, her student needed to be talked to. Caline would have to stress the importance of being an active presence in the class. Marinette needed to be a good leader so the other students could model after her. Her friends counted on her for help, no one should be too busy for that.
The following Monday, Caline Bustier finally got around to asking Marinette to stay after class.
“Marinette,” Caline started. “I’ve noticed you’ve become rather… distant lately with the other students in class.”
           Marinette fought the urge not to roll her eyes, “We’ve had a falling out,” she said innocently. Not bothering to mention that it was Lila’s doing. “It’s fine. Things change. Friends go apart.”
“They don’t have to,” Bustier smiled. “You were such a wonderful class president; the entire class counted on you. Don’t you think you were a bit hasty in resigning… in that regard.”
“There was no avoiding it,” Marinette stated. Most of the class at that point at turned against her. And every time she tried to make plans or come up with ideas to fund raise she was shut down. “I’m interning with Wilhelmina Slater. She’s currently editor and chief for Mode Paris. I couldn’t turn that down. On top of that I’m overflowing with commission request; some come in by the website I launched, others from recommendations from my other clients. Also Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, if you remember, both announced three months ago that I was their personal stylist. I’ve been getting swamped with work ever since.”
Caline did remember. She had been shocked when she saw her student’s face on the news announcing her as up-and-coming Fashion design MDC. A number of celebrities tweeted that they had commissioned work from the teen; a dress here, a suit there, costumes. The announcement had only caused more derision in class towards Marinette, “But don’t you think helping your friends is more important than making money?”
Marinette blinked. “I am helping my friends.”
“Alya needed your help with the fundraising,” Bustier said. “Lila needed help with the dance. Mylene needed costumes for the play. Nino needed someone to design his set for a gig of his. You were too busy. How do you think that made them feel?”
“First of all, they never asked me for help,” Marinette quickly said. “Second-”
           Caline cut her off, “Maybe they didn’t ask because they knew you’d be too busy.”
           Marinette looked the teacher up and down and continued what she was saying, “Secondly, I have very few friends in class; and you didn’t name any of them. Lila is not my friend. Alya is not my friend. Neither is Nino, Mylene, Ivan, Max, Kim, or Alix for the record.”
           Bustier reared back; shocked at the unexpected tone from Marinette.
           Marinette crossed her arms. “I am helping my friends. Chloe is my PR manager, which is giving her amazing experience. Juleka and Rose model for me, and frequently get poached to model for other designers. Adrien gets to sit back and relax for once. Claude meets all the directors and actors I work with. He ended up getting an internship at WB. Nathaniel and Marc’s Ladybug comic got exposer after I used some of his designs of her on my clothing line. Images comics is picking up their comic to turn it into an entire series. Aurore is my personal assistant but that’s only to give her a clear reason to be there so she can interview any celebrities, I’m working with, that are willing to talk with her. She posted an interview with David Tennant about a cameo in Doctor; with him, Rose, and their kid. An hour later the website: Tumblr crashed. I do help my friends.”
Bustier sighed, “You’re having an argument. You didn’t stop being friends.” Honestly kids could be so dramatic sometimes. “Once you apologize everything will go back to normal.”
“And why should I apologize,” Marinette asked. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We talked about the Marinettes of the world, remember?” Caline smiled. “You have to be the bigger person; be an example for the other students. Show them the right way to act.”
“No.”
           It was said so firmly but so quickly that the teacher nearly missed it as she opened her mouth to continue her speech but closed it as she processed what Marinette said, “No? What do you mean no.”
           Marinette picked up her school bag and walked to the classroom door, “I mean, I won’t do it. I’m no one’s shining example. And in this situation, I refuse to be the bigger person. I have no intention of apologizing whatsoever.” She opened the door about to walk out. “Especially to people who you allowed to verbally harass me in class, trip me right in front of you, and disinvite me and my friends on class trips. I don’t care how it made them feel. I don’t care about them at all.” “Marinette,” Bustier started.
           Marinette cut her off, “It is not responsibility to teach my classmates the right way to behave; it’s their parents’, it’s yours.” She said fiercely.
           Bustier straighten herself up to her full height. She refused to allow any student of hers to speak to her like that. “I see. I will have to contact your parents to discuss your lack of participation in class.”
           Marinette snorted, “Okay. You should do it soon, though. I and a number of other students sent in complaints to the school board about my wrongful expulsion, this class, the way you run it, and Damocles; with video evidence. Bourgeois and Agreste lawyers are leading the charge. Chloe out of sheer spite. Gabriel because of the clear case of sexual harassment you allowed Adrien to deal with from Lila. He’s out for blood.”
           Caline Bustier paled. She couldn’t feel her legs. The school board? “Nothing is as bad as you say. You are overdramatizing everything.”
“My lawyer say different,” The bluenette shrugged. “If anything, they think I’m not understating things. Much like when I tell them, you’re a bad teacher.”
“I will not be spoke to like that!”
“What are you going to do?” Marinette asked with a single eyebrow raised, “Expel me?”
           There was only silence to answer her question. Marinette just shook her head and left.
           Leaving Caline Bustier wondering just how she let things get so out of hand. And more importantly, if she would even have a job come the new school year.
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