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imagineaworlds · 4 years

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I Love You (Part Fourteen) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Talk about murder. Kidnapping.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 7783

Timeline: Season 2 Episode 22. Right after part thirteen.

Everyone was already on the jet and waiting for me when I stepped on. Gideon, Morgan, Emily, and Reid were all sitting at the four seats around the table, leaving me with one of the nearby single seats or the edge of the couch. I stuffed my go back in the overhead bin and took a seat on the edge of the couch. Morgan handed me an official case file for the sixty-three missing homeless people in Kansas City. I opened the file to take a look. They had transcribed everything Detective McGee gave them for the file, and Garcia had also added whatever she could, despite the fact that there wasn’t much documented in our system. They had been working on the case while I was gone, so they already had an idea of what the profile of the Unsub was.

Morgan ran me through everything they already knew. Our Unsub was what we liked to call a “housecleaner”, which meant that this kind of Unsub viewed himself as a hero who was cleaning the streets of the “filth”, which in this case was the homeless. It made sense that this was their first step in the profile since sixty-three people had gone missing, and the only link in victimology was the fact that they were all homeless. He wasn’t delusional enough to not conceptualize that murder is still bad, but he figured that his murders were excusable because he was helping the world by ridding it of “filth”. Because he has a housecleaner’s superiority complex, he was likely an unpleasant man who left everyone he met with a bad feeling about him, but they weren’t sure why. That makes him a loner, and he blames the world for that. So rather than take on a friend or partner, he likely has someone who is subservient to him to help him with these kidnappings and murders.

According to Detective McGee’s reports, he started noticing the disappearances about a year ago, which meant that the stressor likely happened around that time— no more than three months prior to the disappearances. Since he was a loner and he was a dislikable person, it was fair to assume that the stressor was losing someone who was important to him and loved him no matter who he was, which led us to believe that it was a family member who had passed away. Spencer brought up that the Unsubs likely didn’t have any jobs because of how frequent the disappearances were occurring.

“Sounds like I missed all the fun,” I laughed. They had practically done the whole case on their own while I was gone. All that was left to do was to get onto the ground and find the guy who matched the description.

When we landed in Kansas City, we headed directly to the precinct to meet up with Hotch, JJ, and the detective. Gideon was the first to ask how they managed to convince the Chief of Police to give us the case, and Hotch admitted to us that McGee had gone over their heads with this and come straight to us, so they weren’t exactly inclined to give us the case, but JJ found out that a note that was sent to McGee from the Unsub after he had been rewarded for cleaning up the streets was from Kansas City, Missouri, it became a federal case the second it crossed state lines.

“This is Chief Wright,” Hotch introduced us to the police chief who was less than happy to see us in his precinct. “We’re going to be working closely with him. This is still his jurisdiction.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Do you have somewhere for us to set up?” he asked Wright. The police chief nodded. “Good. We’ll set up in there after we give the profile.”

“The profile?” Wright inquired.

“We’ve been working on it all morning,” Reid answered without thinking.

Hotch eyed Spencer with a stern look that said: “Some things are better unspoken.” Hotch turned back to the police chief with a faux friendly smile to throw Wright off. “We’d like to give it as soon as possible.”

Wright nodded warily, “Right… Sure… Let me gather everyone up.” He headed off.

Hotch moved closer to the team as we huddled up to talk with him. “Reid, I want you and Gideon to give the profile. We’re all going to head out afterwards to talk to the locals, see if they know anything about these disappearances. Maybe one of them can identify our Unsub or tell us where to find him. It’ll be dark by the time we get out there, so we’ll all team up. JJ, you’ll go with McGee, I’ll go with Wright, Gideon with Reid, Morgan, Emily, and Y/N will go together. Sound good?”

Everyone nodded again as the entire precinct started to gather up for our profile. We faced them as they got situated in their seats. Gideon and Reid stepped forward and began to tell every detail of the profile that they had told me on the flight. None of the department seemed to have any questions or comments of any use afterwards, so they were dismissed. Wright and McGee came over to ask if the plan was still to go downtown and question people on the streets, and Hotch nodded. Those who lived on the streets were our most likely witnesses, even if they didn’t realize it.

Hotch told everyone to change into warm clothes for the night and gear up. After the team split off, Hotch grabbed my hand and led me towards the break room in the back of the precinct.

“Hey, how did it go with Haley? I know that you were a little worried.”

I smacked his arm playfully. He knew I was worried this whole time and he was acting like it wasn’t a big deal, and it made me feel stupid about it. “It went fine,” I admitted. “Jack’s mad at us because he wanted to spend the night at our house and he wanted to get ice cream with me, but I tried to tell him that there was nothing we could do.”

“We’ll make it up to him when we get back.”

“That’s what I said, but he kept pouting.” I smiled, “He crossed his arms and frowned like you always do. It was cute.”

“I don’t frown.”

“Yes, you do. All the time,” I laughed. “It’s okay, though, ‘cause I get to see you smile everyday, and that's a good enough reason for me to stick around.”

He raised a brow and smirked as he decided to play along, “Was that in question?”

I shook my head, “No. I’d never do that to Jack.”

Hotch finally let out a chuckle. “I see how it is.” I smiled up at him playfully. “You’ll stay with Morgan and Emily tonight, right? No wandering off on your own?”

“I’m not a baby, Hotch. I’ll be fine.”

He squinted, “You have a bad habit of doing things your way. I don’t need this Unsub taking you if he sees the chance.”

I patted his chest, “I’ll be good, big guy. Thanks for being worried, though.”

“Hey,” he caught my attention with his earnest tone. “I love you. A lot.”

He raised his brows shortly to make his words more sincere. I believed him. He never had to tell me more than once to make it stick in my head, but he always wanted to tell me. He was obsessed with saying it whenever he could because he was never sure when it would end up being the last time, considering our field of work. It was like how often I felt the urge to return the favor by telling him or telling Jack every chance I could get. I never knew when the last time I would be able to see Jack would be, so I had to make every second count.

When everyone was ready and waiting for us outside of the break room, I managed to steal a moment to kiss him and tell him that I love him, too, before we headed out. Each pair, or in my case, group, took their own car since we were all starting on separate sides of downtown and we were going to work our way towards the middle, where we would all meet up to review what we had learned.

Morgan, Emily, and I started on the South side of downtown. where there were more homeless camps than stragglers and prostitutes. We found a few communities building shelters under bridges and outside of abandoned builds, and we asked each and every person we came across if they recognized our Unsub’s profile or if they had seen anything suspicious at all. While they all insisted that there was nothing out of the ordinary, the worrisome part was that they all said that they hadn’t heard about any disappearances. They knew of people who had moved away, but not gone missing. Those of them who told us that they knew of people who moved away were given a list of names by Emily to see if they could identify any of the victims, but to no such luck. It was like these victims didn’t even exist between the missing files and the fact that no one in the area knew of them.

While walking North, we came across an injured and alone woman, pushing a cart full of her belongings along in front of her as she limped. We were asking anybody and everybody for their help, this woman was simply no exception. Morgan approached her with a kind smile and she smiled back at him. He had an inviting, homely face that when lit up with a smile, it was contagious to everyone else.

“How are you doing this fine evening, ma’am?” he asked her as she stopped pushing her cart.

“I’m fine,” she answered.

“We’re with the FBI and we’re investigating some disappearances that have been happening in this area. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“Go for it, handsome.”

Emily and I both smiled at the ground. Morgan was just that kind of guy. He was attractive, smart, funny, and embarrassingly kind. He had this playboy type attitude that he liked to flaunt around a lot, but underneath all of that was a man who just wanted to do right by everyone he ever met. This woman looked so sad and alone, yet she took an immediate liking to Morgan— not in a creepy way, but in a way that reminded me of how a grandmother would treat their grandson; and Morgan was more than willing to oblige this woman by playing along.

“What’s your name darling?”

“Mona.”

“Mona,” he smiled. “I love that name. It suits you. Well, Ms. Mona, have you seen anyone suspicious around here recently? Maybe some unfamiliar, out of place faces?”

Mona shook her head, “There’s unfamiliar faces everywhere on the streets. You see a lot of the same people all the time, but people come and go as their life takes turns going up and down.”

“Have you noticed that anyone you recognized a lot is suddenly gone?”

Mona shook her head again. “Like I said, people come and go as they please. One day they might be under the bridges, the next they’ll be working in some restaurant. Life happens.”

“Alright, well, thank you for your help. Can I maybe take you somewhere? Like a shelter, perhaps?”

Mona scoffed and scrunched up her nose in disgust, “Have you ever seen one of them shelters? I have better luck on the street than in there.”

“Okay, okay,” he pulled his hands out of his coat pockets and threw them up in surrender, “You just be careful out there, Mona. We need more beautiful faces like you out in the world.”

Mona blushed and hid her face in the collar of her shirt. She thanked him for his kind words before pushing her cart off again and continuing on her way through the streets at night. We watched her walk on and I hoped to myself that she would be alright and she wouldn’t end up as one of the next victims. She was a good woman— a kind woman. She didn’t look like she could hurt a fly. We needed more people like her in the world.

Emily chuckled. “You’re a good guy,” she complimented Morgan.

It boosted his ego tenfold and he smiled over at us, his playboy act returning just for show. “Oh, I know.”

“I think you’re just an asshole who has a thing for older women,” I bit back a laugh.

Morgan’s smile brightened at my playful jab. “Says the one dating our boss.”

“Ooh,” Emily sighed, “burn…”

“Is that for me calling you a tool earlier?” I interrogated, walking past to keep heading North.

He nodded, “It sure is.”

Both of them caught up with me and we continued on a few more blocks before we ended up finding Hotch and Wright walking towards us from the North. We regrouped with them as we waited for JJ, McGee, Gideon, and Reid to find us on their paths from the West and East. Morgan asked if Hotch and Wright found anything of use, and they shook their heads. No one had seen anything out of the ordinary and no one even knew that these people were missing. Emily admitted that we had the same luck.

“We saw JJ and McGee about a block back and they said the same thing,” Hotch told us. “It’s just weird. You’d think that if the Unsub were out here, he’d stick out like a sore thumb because of his superiority complex, but all of these people seem… quiet and humble. Most of them even seem extroverted once you start talking with them.”

“And our Unsub is definitely an introvert?” I checked.

Hotch shrugged.

“You were adamant on our guy being an introvert, but being extremely memorable… yet no one seems to have any idea of who we’re talking about,” Wright said with an accusatory tone towards Hotch.

“So, then, riddle me this, Chief Wright, what do you think happened to those sixty-three missing people?”

“I still don’t think anything happened to them, Agent Hotchner. I think that this is all a waste of my time, your time, and the people’s tax dollars.”

“Ah, right. You think that they all just got jobs and houses. Maybe they found rainbows and unicorns as well.”

“Hotch,” I hissed a warning. Their tones and conversation were incredibly rude. It wasn’t going to help anything if they were just going to keep fighting amongst each other.

Emily changed the topic first, “What we should really be asking ourselves here is how did the Unsub get sixty-three or more street smart people off the streets without being seen?”

“It would need to be someone trustworthy, under the radar. He’s here all the time, but not enough for people to know him by name or to know enough about him to think that he’s an unlikable person.”

“Then it’s definitely not someone from the streets,” Morgan added. “Someone who would go undetected by bystanders and the street community alike.” He looked down the road, towards the direction where Mona had started walking off. “Someone like… Captain Wright, does your Social Services Department patrol around at night?”

Wright furrowed his brows and shook his head, “No, they have to be called, and then—”

Morgan jumped onto his toes and started running back towards Mona’s direction. We all turned to see what he was doing while Hotch ran after him. Morgan had spotted Mona at the end of the road, just in front of an alleyway, walking with a man who had driven up in a Social Serves van. The driver was taking Mona’s cart from her calmly and helped her put it into the back of her van. It looked fairly innocent, but with what Wright had just disclosed about Social Services not being out that time of night, we realized that something was wrong. Well started chasing after Morgan and Hotch.

“Mona!” Morgan called out desperately. “Mona, wait! Do not get in that van!” He slowed his pace down as he approached her and the driver of the van. “What are you doing?” he asked curiously, putting a hand on Mona’s shoulder.

“He's gonna drive me to the park,” she answered.

The driver was already getting back in the car and trying to start the engine. Morgan walked over to the window. The rest of us slowed down now as we caught up to them. Morgan leaned against the car, peeking his head in through the window, “Hey, what’s going on, my man?”

“I should go,” the driver said nervously, turning the engine over and it started to rumble.

“Sir, do you have a city employee I.D.?” Hotch asked the driver.

“Look, I really don’t have time for this.”

“Yes, you do. I.D. Now, please,” he demanded with a gruff tone that I knew all too well.

The driver hesitated for a moment, his eyes still on the steering wheel that he had a tight grip on. Morgan kept his hands on the car and his head in the window— a tactic to try to intimidate the man. I looked at the banner on the side of the van, and realized that it was entirely fake. It didn’t look at all real if you knew what the real thing looked like. But to anyone on the streets, like Mona, it probably looked legit. Next thing I knew, the banner was speeding out of my field of view as the driver stepped on the gas. The car sped forward with Morgan still hanging on to make sure that he wouldn’t get away. I called out Morgan’s name as we all ran after the car. The driver was racing down the alleyway towards a dead end, which he soon realized, but with Morgan fighting with him for control of the van, he was unable to stop in time before they collided with the wall.

“Morgan!” I cried his name out again as I grabbed his jacket and pulled him out of the window. He jumped onto his feet and thanked me before yanking the front car door open and pulled the driver out. “Don’t do that ever again,” I scolded Morgan while he pushed the driver up against the side of the van and arrested him.

Morgan recited the driver’s rights as he slapped the handcuffs on him. Hotch called Gideon and JJ to let them know that their groups needed to meet us back at the precinct as soon as possible. The car that Emily, Morgan, and I brought was the closest. Hotch hopped in the car with us and the suspect since he wanted to lead the interrogation when we would arrive at the precinct. I sat up front with Morgan, as usual, while Emily and Hotch sat on either side of the handcuffed suspect.

I watched the suspect through the mirrors on the outside of the cars and the rearview one on the ceiling between Morgan and I. He didn’t look at all like a killer. He looked scared, but not innocent. We had caught him trying to take someone while posing as a city official, so he knew that he was neck deep in trouble, but he wasn’t our Unsub. Earlier, however, the team had mentioned that our Unsub could possibly have a subservient partner who was helping him, and that certainly passed through my mind as a possibility a few times. Hotch was likely going to proceed with the investigation with such an accusation to see if we were right, in turn also proving a point to Chief Wright.

At the station, JJ and McGee were already waiting for us since they had been the closest. Morgan and Emily took the suspect into the interrogation room, meanwhile Hotch, JJ, McGee, and I stayed in the mirror room just outside of it to talk about how we were going to proceed. McGee asked us if we thought that this was our Unsub, but Hotch denied the claim, and as I suspected, he assumed that this man was the subservient Unsub who was helping the dominant by kidnapping the victims. McGee asked what that meant for our investigation— and specifically this interrogation, and we told him that this guy was going to tell us exactly where to find our real Unsub, if he really was who we thought he was. It was entirely possible that this guy was just some other random creep who had been taking people off the streets, but that was a whole other can of worms to open if it got to that point.

“Detective, I want you to go in with me,” Hotch said to McGee.

“Wha— What… Me? Are you sure?”

Hotch nodded as a response to him just as Morgan and Emily came out of the interrogation room. “Morgan, call Garcia and see if we can find anything on this guy.” Morgan took his orders and headed out to go call her. “Y/N, if this guy ends up not responding to the good cop, bad cop routine, be ready to go in.” I nodded. “McGee, when we go in there, let me do all the talking. I’m going to ignore you— I won’t even look at you. I need to show this guy that I share the same alpha, dominant personality as the other Unsub in order to get him to tell us anything.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Y/N’s going to go in. If he doesn’t respond to a male dominant type, then he’s likely scared of the opposite. A woman. It doesn’t matter if they’re stern with him, because their physique and demeanor will throw him off. We’ll worry about one thing at a time, though.”

The door to the room opened up again and Morgan stepped back in. “Garcia couldn’t find much on this guy. His driver’s license is legit, so his name is Steven Foster. But there are no employment records, tax records, no credit cards, no bank accounts, nothing. This guy’s practically a ghost.”

“That’s likely the point,” Hotch added. “The dominant probably told him that the best way to keep both of them safe is to leave no paper trail.”

“Wait,” McGee cut in. “If this guy is so devoted to the other Unsub, then why does he look so scared?”

“He’s the only one who knows what the Unsub is truly capable of,” Emily responded. “He’s the only one alive who can tell us who the Unsub is and what horrible atrocities he has committed. He knows better than anyone what the dominant could do if he found out that he was caught by the police.”

“We can use that to our advantage,” Hotch explained.

The door opened again and Wright, Reid, Gideon, and JJ all walked in. Gideon and Hotch nodded knowingly to each other. Hotch took that as his signal and waved McGee over with him towards the other door that led into the interrogation room. The second Hotch stepped into the room, Steven leapt out of his chair and tried to power pose on Hotch, of all people.

“It’s about damn time!” Steven exclaimed with faux anger that was trying to cover up his anxiety. “What am I doing here, anyways? I didn’t do anything! I mean, what’s the charges? Hm? Do you even have any? What did I even do? Offer to help an old lady get to the park? Is that even illegal? No, I don’t think so!” He chuckled to himself, “I see, you’re going to try to charge me with the collision, even though it was the other cop’s fault! The black guy! You know!”

His incessant yelling wasn’t at all intimidating. In fact, it only showed just how fragile he was and how quick he was to unravel in front of Hotch’s glare and spine-chilling silence. I recognized Steven’s attempts to find a talking point for Hotch to respond to because it was what I would have done if Hotch was like that towards me. Even if everyone else didn’t realize it, this was more than just putting on an alpha personality for show and for the interrogation; this was Hotch’s exact dominant personality. Every time I was in Steven’s shoes, I was practically bouncing off the walls with anxiety because Hotch always got quiet when he slid into his dominant role. He liked to wait and see me squirm and dig myself into holes that I couldn’t climb out of because he would ultimately use those against me later. That was exactly what he was doing with Steven… and I pitied him for what would come next.

“He jumped into my van! He crashed the car, not me! I didn’t do anything! There were witnesses! They’ll testify!”

“Sit. Down,” Hotch commanded sternly.

Steven did as he was told immediately. God, it was so ironic to me that the rest of the team watching had no idea just how common this was for Hotch, but I knew… I knew exactly just how terrified Steven was of possibly crossing Hotch again now. Steven’s obedience also meant that Hotch was going to get through. He didn’t need me to go in, and he didn’t even need McGee there anymore to prove his dominance in the room. Hotch had already won and Steven didn’t even know it yet.

“I’ve been standing on the other side of that glass, thinking about what to do with you, Steven,” Hotch said as he sat down across from Steven. A shiver ran down my spine in response to Hotch’s low volume. “And this morning, I decided that I’m going to save your life. You’re going to tell me where my killer is. You’re going to give me an address. And you’re going to tell me how to get inside without raising an alarm. You’re going to draw me a map, if I need one. You will do whatever it takes to help me.” Steven started rocking back and forth as panic set in again. “You’re going to do all of this because he has never been nice to you. He is going to hurt you if we don’t find him and we let you go while he is still out there. He’s going to kill you unless you help us lock him away. Do you understand? He doesn’t care about you. He told you to not get caught by the authorities, and you disobeyed him, which means that there will be severe punishment. You don’t want that, do you, Steven, so don’t give him the satisfaction. Tell me where he is.”

Steven shook his head, “I can’t.”

“You can, and you will.”

“No… You don’t understand… I can’t. My family has always worked for his family. It’s all I know…” He choked back a worried sob. “His father died last year, leaving him everything— the money, the place, the—” he stopped himself short before he could admit more about their operation. “He’s the last one… He’s going to hurt me so bad…”

“Not if you tell us how we can put him away.”

Steven looked down at his fidgeting hands in his lap. He gulped while thinking long and hard about what he was going to do. Like I said, Hotch had already won after he made his first command. It was only a matter of time before Steven would give in. With the truth of Steven’s possible punishment staring him in the face, he had no choice but to help us or go back to his partner and be slaughtered like the other victims likely had been.

“Holcombe,” he whispered. “His name is… Charles… Holcombe…”

Morgan was already on his phone, calling Garcia for information on the name we were given, Emily went to call the SWAT team for back up, JJ went to go handle the press conference that would come shortly after the arrest, but Gideon, Reid, and I all stayed to watch the rest of the interrogation.

“He owns the old meatpacking plant.”

Reid left to go tell Morgan that detail and to find out where the meatpacking plant was located. It was just me and Gideon now.

“He has her there.”

“Who does he have?” Hotch interrogated.

He shook his head again, “I don’t know her name. I picked her up yesterday. The sun’s coming up… If she isn’t dead yet, she will be soon. The kill room is on the third floor in the East wing. You can enter through the first floor, North side door.”

Hotch pushed his chair out and stormed out of the interrogation room with McGee following close behind. Gideon and I left the mirror room just behind them and we headed towards the boardroom where our team had set up shop. Morgan and Reid already had their vests on, and Morgan was just getting off the phone with Garcia when she gave him the address we needed to find Charles Holcombe.

Morgan tossed my vest at me and I started strapping it to my torso. I tied my hair back out of my face as the entire team— Hotch, Gideon, Morgan, Emily, Reid, JJ, me, Wright, and McGee— all headed outside for the black SUVs just out in front of the precinct. All ten of us fit into two separate cars. Hotch drove one with McGee, Wright, and Gideon, Morgan drove the other with me, Emily, Reid, and JJ. We raced down the highway with the lights and sirens on. The meatpacking plant was only about ten minutes away, but with traffic moving out of our way and Morgan speeding over ninety miles per hour, we would make it in half that.

When we arrived at the building, Morgan and Hotch parked the cars on the North side of the building, since that was how Steven told us we would get into the building. The SWAT team pulled up just behind us, jumping out of their truck before it could even come to a full stop. Hotch told them to lead the way towards the third floor in the East wing. He opened the front door for them, using a crowbar in order to pry it open. They all filed into the building with their much larger weapons, compared to ours. As I ran in behind Morgan and Hotch, I nearly tripped when I trampled over a couple of pairs of shoes lined up in the hallway. I raised a brow as I caught my footing. It looked like the shoes were almost leading the way to the door… but there were so many of them… way more than sixty-three pairs… and there were kids sized ones, too… I tried to ignore the thought as I stepped around them and followed the team further into the building. We took a few interesting turns on our route to a staircase which held us to the third floor, and from there, we continued heading East.

When we found traces of blood on the floor, the SWAT team slowed down to approach each corner with caution. On the walls, I started to notice that he had painted labels— or directions, if you will— on each corner to help him keep track of where he was and where he was going, which only made it easier for us to find him, because all we had to do was follow the corners that read “KILL ROOM”. Then, when we heard movement and talking down the hall, the leader of the SWAT team called us all forward so that we could proceed with the negotiations and arrest. Our entire time moved up and waited for Hotch’s signal to run around the corner with our weapons raised. When we did, we saw Holcombe at the end of the hall, wearing a full hazmat suit, turning a stretcher into a nearby room labeled as the “KILL ROOM” with big, red letters, presumably done in blood.

“Charles Holcombe!” Hotch called out, taking careful steps forward. “FBI!”

Holcombe looked up from the girl on the stretcher in front of him to Hotch and the rest of the team who was approaching him with hostility. “No!” he cried when he realized that he had finally been caught. He let go of the stretcher and picked up a large machete knife that had been laying beside the woman. He raised it like he was going to slash it down on her neck.

“Don’t do it!” I warned him, still approaching behind Hotch and Morgan.

“Charles Holcombe, you’re under arrest for the murder of sixty-three people,” McGee quivered as he spoke with courage.

“Just let me do my job!” Holcombe yelled again.

When he started lowering his hand and knife back down towards his next victim, Hotch tried warning him again to not do anything stupid, but he couldn’t take the chance that this guy would kill the woman, so both him and Morgan started firing since they had the cleanest shots. Holcombe fell away from the stretcher, dropping the knife, and landing on his back on the floor.

I pushed past Hotch and Morgan once they were done firing, and I ran over to the woman to make sure that she was alright. Hotch followed me over, Morgan and Reid went to check on Holcombe, and Emily pulled out her phone to call an ambulance. The woman looked up at me with tears in her eyes and blood pulsing out of multiple different wounds around her body. I cooed her quietly as Hotch and I both started working on releasing her hands from the restraints keeping her on the stretcher.

“His face…” she cried.

Hotch thought she said, “My face,” so he responded with, “You’ve got some cuts, but you’re going to be okay.”

She shook her head, “No, his face. I want to see his face. Please.”

Hotch froze for a moment before telling Morgan to pull the mask off of Holcombe’s face for the woman to see. Hotch and I carefully propped her head up as Morgan did as he was told. When Holcombe’s face was revealed, she started laughing hysterically to herself, likely from the shock.

“I won,” she laughed with relief. “I won…”

I eyed Hotch through my eyelashes so as to not make it obvious that we were sharing a worried glance over this woman. He decided to take the initiative to keep talking to her to calm her down. “You’re going to be okay. There’s an ambulance outside. You’re safe. Just try not to move until the EMTs come in.”

She stopped laughing slowly and took in a painful, wheezing breath, “Can you have someone check on my baby, please? I left her with my mom for the night, but I didn’t get home on time… I just want to make sure my baby’s alright…”

“What’s your name?” I asked her. If I had her name, I could call Garcia and get an address for her mother.

“Maggie. Maggie Flores.”

“I’ll find your daughter, Maggie. She’ll meet us at the hospital, okay?”

She nodded and thanked me. I gave Hotch another look before I stepped back, grabbed my phone from my pocket, and dialed Garcia’s number at the office. I asked her to look for a Maggie Flores in Kansas City, and I needed an address for her mother. Garcia was on it faster than the speed of light. She gave me an address and a phone number to call Sarah Flores, Maggie’s mother. I hung up with Garcia and called Mrs. Flores at her home address. She picked up after the second ring as though she had been sitting next to the phone, waiting for her daughter to call. I told her my name and that I was with the FBI, and that we had just found her daughter. I told her that we were going to be taking her to the hospital, but she looked alright besides a few scrapes and bruises. Mrs. Flores, understandably, started crying on the other end of the call. I asked the EMTs running past me which hospital they would be taking her to, and I relayed that information to Mrs. Flores on the phone. She told me that she would grab her granddaughter and they would hurry to meet us there.

When I got off of the phone with Mrs. Flores, the EMTs had already put Maggie on one of their stretchers and they started pushing her towards the exit. Hotch still stood where I left him, the rest of the team gathering up with him. As I approached, I heard Wright apologizing to both McGee and Hotch for not believing them. Without McGee, those sixty-three— or more people— wouldn’t have found justice, and that mother would have been dead. McGee did the right thing by coming to us with the case.

JJ told Hotch that she was going to head back to the station with Gideon and Reid to prep for the press conference which would conclude this case, and then they would start packing up so that we could go home. I started walking backwards, toe to heel, as I headed for the stairs where they were taking Maggie. Hotch asked where I was going, and I told him that I was going to ride with Maggie to the hospital to make sure that she was alright. I spun around on my heel to start walking forward. I called back to him that he could pick me up from the hospital whenever we were ready to head back to Virginia. I knew that he was probably less than pleased with me going off on my own, but like he said himself… I had a tendency of doing things my way.

Maggie thanked me for keeping her company in the ambulance as I sat down on the bench beside her and took her hand. I comforted her and told her that her family would be meeting us at the hospital. She was going to be alright.

When we arrived at the hospital, they took her to a room and locked me out while they made sure that she was okay. I sat just outside of the room, bouncing my knee as I waited for something to happen. A few minutes later, I found that an older woman and a toddler were running towards me. I stood from my seat in the hallway to greet them. Mrs. Flores looked visibly distraught while trying to see into her daughter’s hospital room, while the little girl looked so confused about why she was there. After the nurse came out of the room to tell us about Maggie’s status, Mrs. Flores took her granddaughter into the room and I stayed in the hallway to give them privacy.

I sat back down and continued to bounce my knee. All there was left to do now was wait for Hotch to pick me up when the team was ready to head home. I wasn’t entirely sure why I decided to quickly go with Maggie to the hospital. I think I attributed it towards how she asked us to check on her daughter before she even asked about herself. I wanted to find her daughter for her, and I wanted to see them reunite. I could only hope that if I were to ever be in Maggie’s position, someone would show me the same courtesies… Maybe that was why I went…

Hotch called to tell me that he was waiting in the car outside. I told him that I would be right out, but before I went downstairs, I went back into Maggie’s room to tell her goodbye. She was curled up on her hospital bed with her daughter in her arms, both of them content and half asleep. I whispered to tell her that I needed to return to Virginia, but that I was happy that she was safe. She thanked me again for saving her life and reuniting her with her daughter. All I could do was smile and nod before quietly taking my leave. I didn’t know what else there was to say to her when I didn’t even fully understand it all myself.

In the car, Hotch asked if I was alright. I stared at his cheek for a moment while he kept his focus on the road, then I hummed a “yes” and took one of his hands from the steering wheel and intertwined my fingers with his. My mind was still lost in thought, thinking about how Maggie was holding her daughter close and how I wanted nothing more than to hold Hotch and Jack like that forever. My heart was pounding in my chest, too, and I wasn’t sure if it was left over anxiety from the events at the meatpacking plant, or if it was from Hotch’s electric touch, or the desperation I felt for getting back home to see Jack. We had only been away for a day, but that was a day longer than I wanted in the first place, and I was sure that Hotch felt the same way.

Hotch’s hand untangled itself from mine before he put his palm against my cheek. I tucked into his touch and sighed lightly as he brought me back down to Earth. “We’re going to see him soon,” he reassured me.

He knew that things weren’t okay and that I just wanted to get home to be with him and Jack more than anything else in the world. Jack wasn’t even my own, and yet my heart ached every time I was away from him… It was the oddest feeling. I knew that he wasn’t mine, and I knew that he never would be. I knew that there was always a possibility that Hotch and I wouldn’t be forever, and if that day were to ever come, I would have no right to stick around in Jack’s life. I knew that I would never be his mother even though I so desperately wanted to be. I knew that whatever pain I felt while being away from Jack was nowhere near the pain Hotch felt because they were flesh and blood. Hotch had helped bring that precious kid into this world, and he was the best father anyone could ask for. I had never seen anyone so devoted to their son like Hotch was. Therefore, I knew that despite how much I was hurting, it could never compare, yet Hotch always went the extra mile to comfort me— and maybe that was because it helped to comfort himself, too…

Before we had even gotten on the jet in Kansas City, Hotch called Haley to let her know that we were done with our case and we were flying home. She told Jack while she was still on the phone that he was going to be staying at our house for the next few days, so he needed to go get ready. I could hear him jumping with excitement in the background before running up to his room to grab his school stuff and the toys he wanted to bring to our house. He didn’t have to worry about clothes, toiletries, or anything of the sort because Hotch’s home was still his home, but Jack liked to carry his favorite toys between houses.

Back in Virginia, Hotch and I hurried from the jet to our car before anyone could stop us. Neither of us even thought to go back inside the office for our paperwork. It could wait, but seeing Jack couldn’t. As we pulled up to Haley’s house, we could see Jack peeking through the blinds in the front window to watch for us. When he spotted us, he ran from the window, and before Hotch and I could even get out of the car, Haley was already opening the door and Jack was running out towards us. Haley watched from her door as Jack jumped into Hotch’s arms and hugged his dad’s neck as tightly as he could.

Hotch winged his arms around Jack and squeezed back, “Hey, buddy.”

“Are we going to get ice cream, daddy?”

Hotch chuckled while sending me a glance that said: “This is all your fault, you know?” I smiled back and shrugged. He always liked to tell me that I was the cool one, so I wanted to give him the chance to be the cool dad for once. “Yeah. Just like we promised we would.” Hotch leaned down and set Jack back on his feet, “Go tell your mom goodbye first.” Jack spun around and hurried back to hug his mom. Hotch walked over to where I was standing on the sidewalk and he threw his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close, “You’re paying.”

I let out a chuckle, “Touche.”

He kissed my temple while he was still smiling ear to ear. “I love you.”

“I love him more,” I poked his side and escaped from under his arm. Hotch’s jaw fell agape playfully. I looked at him with wide eyes, “Is it too late to say I’m sorry?”

He nodded, “Oh, yeah.”

Shit.

I bit my lip and winked at him before helping Jack into the car. Hotch watched me with a smile as he got back into the car and turned the radio on for Jack. I asked him as I buckled him in what flavor of ice cream he was going to get, and when he told me “every flavor!”, Hotch laughed from the front seat.

“How about we just start with one flavor?” I asked Jack. He nodded reluctantly. “Attaboy.” I closed his car door and sat up front with Hotch. “Hey, you,” I poked his side again before he could put the car in drive. He looked at me and raised a brow. “I love you.”

He squinted, “I don’t easily forget, Greenaway. You’ll have to try harder than that.” He set the gearshift to drive, looked back at the road, and put his foot on the gas. I stared at him with bright, soft, admiration-filled eyes until I caught his attention again. He rolled his eyes at me and shook his head while smiling, “Stop it.” I didn’t look away. He sighed. “I love you, too,” he gave in.

I grinned to myself and sat back in my seat. I realized something in that moment: I was the happiest I had ever been.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines

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rubylocket · 7 years

Text

009. Exsecror

title: Exsecror fandom: dangan ronpa v3 characters/pairings: kirumi toujou/kaede akamatsu warnings: major spoilers, nsfw (sex) summary: deep wells must be dug if you want clear water — but deep waters don’t stand still. a/n: this was initially going to be the last of my pre-game series but then i had another idea so be on the lookout for that. i was extremely busy finishing my first year of grad school which explains the long gap between this and the previous piece in the series. i hope to be posting more regularly from now on! fair warning — the explicit rating is there for a reason. sex happens. some brief notes: the girls’ school mentioned here is real, but the dormitories are a fabrication for the sake of convenience; the real school doesn’t have them. in-line lyrics are from rosenrot by rammstein. [ AO3 mirror ]

“she wants it, and that’s fine so it was and so it will always be she wants it, and that’s the tradition: whatever she wants, she gets.”

※

Kaede Akamatsu has heard the name of the family she serves far more than her own.

Despite her mother’s objections given their social standing, the master of the house refers to them by first name — far more often, however, he simply says “you.”

This is the only family she knows, but it’s not hers; this is the house she knows, but it’s not hers.

She allows this thought to ferment in the dark cellar at the back of her mind as she ascends the spiral staircase to the second floor. Her lady has always insisted on her privacy and has had her room in the furthest corner of the house as far back as Kaede can remember. She stands upright and perfects her posture as she carries a tray toward her lady’s room. She lightly raps her knuckles against the door.

“Come in,” calls a soft voice.

Kaede shifts the tray to her other hand and opens the door before replacing both hands on the tray. She summons her most obliging smile and approaches the table.

Even after so many years, she can’t quite grasp the opulence of her lady’s room with its lush red velvet accents and rich mahogany furniture. The crystal chandelier ties it together — a sharp underscore of wealth.

“Good morning,” Kaede greets. “How are you today, Toujou-sama?”

※

There is a memory that has ebbed and flowed in Kaede’s consciousness throughout the years.

At eleven years old, after seeing the only Toujou daughter off to bed, Kaede went to the room she shared with her mother and dejectedly looked down at the floor.

“I don’t like being a servant, Mother.”

Situated at the desk, her mother looked up from her book, eyes widening in concern.

“Why, Kaede, our family has been with the Toujous for generations,” her mother explained, brow creased in seriousness. “But — ‘servant’ is such a harsh word in this day and age. Even Toujou-sama doesn’t prefer it. It’s best to think of yourself as a companion for the young mistress.”

Kaede chose to ignore the obviously erroneous nature of using a word such as “companion.”

“I don’t understand. No one else lives like us.”

Her mother told her the story of how Fumihiro Toujou — the great-grandfather of Kirumi Toujou — toured Europe to promote his pianos and grew enamored by the European wealthy’s propensity for hired help. So much so, in fact, that he asked his housecleaner, Kanae Akamatsu — the great-grandmother of Kaede Akamatsu — to move into the Toujou residence and become a live-in maid.

“It was a rather ostentatious display of wealth here in Japan,” her mother said with a wry smile. “But I think it was a wonderful thing to have done for us. I imagine we’ll stay with the Toujous for many more generations to come.”

Kaede flashed her best subservient smile.

※

“And that’s how one performs a differentiation to find the derivative,” the instructor states as she finishes scrawling across the chalkboard. The woman — older, austere — turns around to appraise their understanding, appearing visibly perturbed at Kirumi’s confusion. Kaede purses her lips for a brief moment; she has no choice but to salvage the situation.

She leans into Kirumi’s desk (close enough that the scent of her sophisticated perfume, jasmine and waterlily, assails her senses).

“The derivative is just a way to see how the output changes according to the input. This is how it’s expressed mathematically, and here’s an example of how to perform a simple differentiation,” Kaede explains, pointing to each step in Kirumi’s textbook accordingly.

“Akamatsu-san is right.” The teacher can’t conceal a hint of disappointment in Kirumi’s ostensible inability to grasp a simple concept.

“Right,” Kirumi mutters, covertly glaring daggers at the instructor. The same venom isn’t present when she looks to Kaede. “Thank you.”

The tips of Kaede’s ears feel hot as she averts her gaze toward the desk and exerts an impossible amount of effort to keep her hands flat on her lap.

※

Kaede turns the last page of the sonata as Kirumi’s fingers, lissome and fluid, glide over the keys. Her eyebrows are knit in solemnity, lips pursed in concentration. The tension lifts from her features as the sonata comes to an end. As always, there’s a period of silence wherein Kirumi sighs and looks to Kaede for her customary commentary.

“You get better every time. It’s the truth,” Kaede offers with (what she hopes is) genuine admiration.

“Thank you, Kaede-chan.” Kirumi frowns and touches a finger to her lips. “I think that’s enough practice for today. Let’s pack it up, shall we?”

“Understood.”

Kaede plucks the composition from its place on the music rack and closes the fallboard as Kirumi rises to her feet. She peers at the grandfather clock situated across the room; it’s nearly time for dinner, much to her surprise. She never seems to notice the passage of time — nor her hunger — when they’re here in the piano room.

“I’m going to go back to my room for a bit,” Kirumi announces as she approaches the doorway.

Kaede’s breath hitches in her throat — an impulse she had been long staving off bubbles to the surface, exploding before she can force it back down.

“Toujou-sama,” Kaede begins nervously, “I want to do something with my appearance, but I wanted to get your permission first.”

Kirumi turns to look at her, blinking with momentary surprise before her manners set in. “What did you want to do?”

Kirumi looks at her with such kindness, such invitation, that Kaede must double down on her efforts to maintain her posture.

“I would like to bleach my hair,” Kaede proclaims.

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Good!” Kirumi chirps, hazel eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “I think you should do it. You’d look wonderful.”

Kaede’s heart skips a beat. She clears her throat. “I’m so glad to hear that, Toujou-sama.”

“I’ll call the hairdresser so we can have it done toward the end of this week.”

She flashes a smile before sauntering off to her room.

Kaede’s hands shake as she deposits the composition back onto the bookshelf.

※

“The hairdresser will be here on Friday,” Kirumi informs as they have tea after dinner in the living room. “Are you excited?”

“Of course, my lady.”

Kirumi hums to herself as she absentmindedly stirs her spoon around in her teacup. Kaede stares at out the three wide windows facing the garden. Snow drifts gently down to earth — they’ve reached the apex of December with Christmas swiftly approaching.

“Kaede-chan, do you ever think about the kind of person you’ll fall in love with?”

The question comes unbidden. It’s almost shocking against the backdrop of silence.

Typically, Kaede would carefully consider her words, measuring them with all the caution of a baker measuring his ingredients. She would craft an elegant and becoming reply fitting of her learning.

Yet, her mouth — and her words — have gone alarmingly dry.

“I-I don’t think so, no,” she admits, eyes darting around. Out of her peripheral vision, she can see Kirumi frown ever so slightly.

“Really? That’s a shame.”

※

“Oh, Kaede-chan,” Kirumi says wondrously, running her slender fingers through her hair. “It looks just as good as I thought it would.”

“Th-Thank you,” Kaede stammers. A jolt strikes every nerve ending at the sensation of her lady’s fingers on her scalp. She isn’t sure if she likes this or hates this.

“Ah, see? We look alike now.”

Kirumi withdraws her hand and places it on Kaede’s shoulders before turning them both towards the mirror. Kirumi’s hair, while light, shines with hints of brunette. Kaede’s hair is more golden in tone. Nevertheless, they do indeed look more similar than Kaede even expected. It’s jarring.

It’s wonderful.

※

Kaede has always seen the cracks and crevices in her lady’s soul. All the pedigree, fine upbringing, and prestigious parlance in the world cannot conceal an innate indolence and sense of deserving.

Yet, undeterred by her own hamartia, Kirumi goes on, ensconced in the velvet embrace of privilege.

And Kaede follows — not unlike a shadow chasing the light.

※

On this particularly chilly February day, Kenjiro Toujou calls them both into his office.

“What did you want to speak to me about, Father?” Kirumi asks, hands clasped together at the level of her waist.

“I’ve been giving it some thought, and I believe it’s time for you to learn to work with your peers.”

Kaede swallows and averts her gaze toward the bookshelf. She knows she must be here at her lady’s side — nevertheless, she feels like a ghost next to the two of them. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Kirumi waiting expectantly for her father to continue.

Kenjiro looks down at a paper on his desk before his eyes flicker back up toward his daughter — and then, strangely, Kaede. She abruptly turns her head to face him.

“You’ll be taking the entrance exam for Seien Girls’ High School next week,” he announces. He looks at Kaede, and something is different in his facial expression as he addresses her. “You will, too.”

“Next week?” Kirumi sputters.

Kenjiro frowns. “Yes, next week. If your education has been of any worth, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Kaede can see the gargantuan effort Kirumi is expending to regulate her facial expression. She’s more in tune with her mannerisms than Kenjiro is, she thinks dismally.

“I understand, Father. Thank you for letting me know.”

The thin, invisible live wire suspended between Kirumi’s eyes and her father’s is enough to make Kaede wring her hands.

“Very good. You’re dismissed.”

Kirumi turns deftly on her heel — never once casting her gaze toward Kaede.

※

“I feel so nervous,” Kirumi laments as they make their way toward the train station. The Toujous’ chauffeur has been ill for some time; thus, they’re left to make the trip to Shizuoka using public transportation.

“Why?” Kaede asks, eyebrows knitting in concern.

“What if I don’t pass?”

“That’s just impossible, Toujou-sama. You’ll pass with flying colors,” she insists. She conjures the will to smile.

Kirumi mirrors it, though it’s more characteristically discreet and genteel — and then, of course, there’s that one thing, that one trait that Kaede simply cannot place.

“You’re so kind, Kaede-chan,” she lilts.

Her cheeks feel hot.

(She didn’t say “what if we don’t pass.”)

※

Their worries were for naught: they were both accepted. Kaede ranks #34, whereas Kirumi ranks #37.

Her lady doesn’t speak to her the entire day.

※

Kaede studies the boarding school for hours in the days leading up to their departure. She isn’t particularly excited — at least, not in the same way Kirumi is — but she needs to be prepared for any questions she might have or anything she might need. By the night prior to their travels, she can visualize the school’s layout when she closes her eyes.

Dread, thick and frigid, undulates over the contours of her body.

※

They wake up before the sun rises on the day of their departure. Kaede rubs her eyes and descends the staircase to bring their belongings outside for the chauffeur to collect. Kenjiro Toujou is nowhere to be seen as Kirumi joins Kaede downstairs.

“Are we going yet?” she asks, stifling a yawn.

“Just a few minutes, I believe.”

The chauffeur motions that they’re ready to leave. Kaede looks around discreetly, scanning for signs of Kirumi’s father. There are none.

She almost asks, but manages to stops herself.

The trip takes slightly under two hours with few words exchanged during that time. Kaede fights the urge to doze off with everything she has.

As the school comes into sight, Kirumi’s eyes widen with the promise standing before her.

※

Kirumi weaves herself seamlessly into the fabric of the school. Kaede doesn’t talk much with others, and the opportunities to do so are scant given her constant presence by Kirumi’s side.

Kaede doesn’t make friends. When she considers it, she never has.

Friendship is optional though, and she never feels lonely when Kirumi’s arm brushes against hers as they retire to their dormitories for the night.

A feeling, ineffable and disarming, grows and blossoms in her chest. (She only wonders when it took root.)

※

Yet, Kaede fails to conceal the effects of the incessant anomie that assails her day after day in this school. It apparently begins to show on her face, as Kirumi confronts her after their classes are over for the day.

“Why do you look so sad?” Kirumi asks with a scowl.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Please don’t worry about it,” she replies, failing to meet her eyes. “I suppose I just...have a difficult time feeling as though I belong here. But I’ll be fine.”

A significant period of silence passes before Kirumi’s hand briefly — ever so briefly — hovers above Kaede’s shoulder before withdrawing.

“Perhaps I haven’t expressed my gratitude as often as I should,” Kirumi mutters thoughtfully, touching a finger to her lip. “It upsets me to hear that you feel that way, Kaede-chan. I find it difficult to think of a life without you.”

Kaede swallows hard, if only to fend off the tears threatening to pool in her eyes.

She, once a paragon of inhibition, commits the egregious sin of stepping outside of herself as she cups Kirumi’s cheek and softly presses her lips to hers.

Almost as soon as she initiated it, she ends it, pulling away swiftly. Kaede’s knees buckle, her stomach turns, her thighs quiver — she sees stars.

“Toujou-sama,” she gasps, “I’m — I’m so sorry. I’m truly sorry.”

Kirumi’s eyes are wide with bewilderment, but there’s a distinct flush in her cheeks.

Kirumi takes her hand and briskly makes her way into one of the empty unlocked classrooms. She drags Kaede inside before turning the lock. The windows face away from the sun; it’s dark, but she makes no motion to turn on the light.

“What are — ”

Kaede isn’t granted the opportunity to finish as Kirumi pins her to the chalkboard and slides her lips against hers, frenzied and desperate, with no consideration and no love.

Kaede can taste blood when she flicks her tongue across her own bottom lip.

Kirumi takes Kaede’s wrist again and drags her over to the desks.

“Sit.”

Kaede sits.

“Lie down.”

Kaede lies down.

Kirumi hikes Kaede’s skirt up above her hips, exposing her underwear. Kirumi presses two slender fingers against her and raises her eyebrows — presumably at the wet sensation.

“How long have you wanted this?” Kirumi asks, and it’s clear that she does not expect an answer. She wastes no more time on teasing and yanks Kaede’s panties down with no trace of grace. Kirumi laughs softly and moves closer until Kaede can feel her breath, hot and tempting. “I suppose that doesn’t matter, does it?”

Kirumi wraps her lips around her clit, circling her tongue around the bead of skin, and sinks her soft fingertips into Kaede’s thighs. Kaede’s senses are saturated with the scent of Kirumi’s perfume, the small shocks traveling along her nerves, the sight of her lady degrading herself like this. Her mind swims with the stimulation as she subconsciously wraps her legs around Kirumi’s neck.

Kirumi moves away from her clit and down toward her lips. Her gaze flickers up to meet Kaede’s as she experimentally drags her tongue across them before licking them in broad, wet strokes, occasionally sucking her inner labia. The pleasure is almost painful; Kaede grips the edges of the desk with such ferocity that her fingers ache.

“Toujou-sama,” she whimpers, hips twitching in Kirumi’s direction.

“You want more, don’t you?”

Kirumi’s voice is low and tantalizing — it makes Kaede’s clit ache even more. For an evanescent moment, Kaede wonders if she’s done this before.

“Yes,” she whispers breathlessly. Kirumi rises from her position and moves toward Kaede. The sight of Kirumi’s lips and chin glistening in the low yellow light exacerbate her utter frustration at the cessation of sensation.

“Kiss me,” Kirumi commands, and she doesn’t wait for Kaede to accede before doing so herself. She clumsily pushes her tongue past Kaede’s lips, forcing her to taste herself, before dragging her teeth across Kaede’s bottom lip and pulling away.

“My turn now.” She hoists herself up on the opposite desk and makes quick work of pulling off her underwear (black lace, Kaede notices) and pulling up her skirt. When Kaede fails to move closer, she frowns. “What’s wrong, Kaede-chan?”

The endearment snaps her back to reality.

“I — I’m just worried I won’t be able to...p-please you,” Kaede stammers, nonetheless moving toward the level of Kirumi’s hips.

“You worry too much. You always do,” Kirumi coos in response.

Placated somewhat, Kaede flicks her tongue out tentatively, allowing the taste to situate itself on her lips. It’s salty and pungent, but not in an unpleasant way. On the contrary, it makes her mouth water and her fingers quiver with barely restrained desire.

Kirumi runs her fingers through Kaede’s hair before gripping it roughly and pulling her closer to her unshaven pussy, prompting Kaede to cry out from the abrupt introduction of pain.

“Right there — don’t breathe,” Kirumi demands. She wraps her legs tighter around Kaede’s neck and brings her thighs closer together, further restricting airflow. “Keep going.”

Kaede’s heart beats wildly against her ribcage like a butterfly in a bell jar as she quickens her pace. She hardly notices the sting of tears of asphyxiation pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m going to cum,” Kirumi says lowly, and it sounds as much of a warning as it does a promise.

Kaede laps feverishly at her pussy, momentarily forgetting herself and sinking her fingertips into the soft, pale flesh of Kirumi’s thighs.

For a moment — a fleeting moment — she can pretend that someone loves her.

An unadulterated cry escapes Kirumi’s throat as she grinds herself against Kaede’s jaw. The sudden influx of wetness coats her chin, and she can’t stop the small noise of surprise from escaping her (occupied) lips.

Kirumi goes limp against the desk surfaces for a solid minute. Kaede reluctantly pulls back, making every attempt to regulate her breathing with limited success. After a painstaking amount of time and silence passes between them, Kirumi pulls up her panties and hops off the desk — a wolfishly satisfied smile adorning her lips.

“That was...incredible.” Kirumi runs a hand through her hair and gazes down at Kaede before leaning in and planting a firm kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Kaede-chan. I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

She does so, leaving Kaede alone in the suddenly too-large classroom.

Kaede’s knees knock against one another as she hobbles back to her room, spurning the concerned glances of her classmates.

(When she wakes up the next morning, she feels something damp against the side of her face.)

※

Kirumi regards her differently — the evidence is in her eyes. For all her years of knowing the young lady, Kaede can’t place whether this change is good or bad.

“Toujou-sama, is something wrong?” she asks one day after their advanced algebra class. They make their way down the expansive hallway, the nascent spring sunset filtering through the trees outside and scattering across the linoleum floor of the corridor.

Kirumi looks at her and furrows her brow.

“No, why?”

They reach the end of the corridor. The sun, no longer obfuscated by the trees, shines painfully in her face, causing Kaede to squint.

She can’t tell her the truth, but it was never in her nature to lie.

“It just seems as though you’ve been acting a bit different lately,” Kaede admits. She clasps her hands at the level of her heart and staring absentmindedly at the floor.

Kirumi giggles. “I think you’re just imagining things. Although we have been a little busier with midterms approaching, I guess.”

“Right. Of course. I apologize for being paranoid, Toujou-sama.”

“It’s quite all right,” Kirumi replies.

Kaede bristles.

Her apology was perfunctory.

※

As she gathers their belongings in preparation for returning to their dormitory, Kaede overhears Kirumi talking to a group of girls in their class.

“—Okay, but would you apply, Toujou-san?”

“I think it’d be an interesting challenge,” she responds thoughtfully. “I don’t believe my father would approve, though.”

“Would that stop you?” interjects another girl.

Kirumi snickers. It’s an unbecoming sound for her, Kaede thinks.

“Of course not.”

※

“What were they asking you about, Toujou-sama?” Kaede inquires as they eat their lunch the next day.

“Oh, you know that television show? The one with the killing game.” Kirumi looks out the window and takes a small bite of her rice. “DanganRonpa.”

“I see.” She can feel the color draining from her face.

Silence passes between them; she’s lost her appetite.

“I don’t mean to offend you, but what would be your motivation for doing something like that?”

Kirumi’s eyes are the color of knives as she looks directly into Kaede’s.

“Because I know I’d win.”

※

Kirumi acts increasingly distant and Kaede becomes increasingly desperate.

The teacher is going over English subjects and predicates and it fails to penetrate. The vision of that glimmer in Kirumi’s eyes after they committed the act, her face tinted orange by the sunlight, leaning over the desk —

and now Kaede turns to her, and her eyes hardly flicker in her direction.

She wants to believe that she’s simply not paying attention; she knows better, and when Kirumi asks for her notes later that night, there are no surprises.

※

Kaede makes her way over to homeroom with her lunch. She scans the vicinity and spots Kirumi sitting in the corner with three other girls.

“I’m back,” she declares, looking for a nearby desk to sit in.

The girls exchange inscrutable glances. Kirumi turns around and looks up at her.

“I’m going to be sitting with my friends today,” Kirumi announces.

“Oh. I see.”

“I don’t think you’d be very interested in what we’re talking about, Kaede-chan. Why don’t you talk to some other people in our class?”

The words aren’t unkind. Yet, Kirumi’s sharp gaze, the subtle smirk on her lips, the tension suspended in the silence among the quartet —

“I understand, Toujou-sama. I’ll see you in the dormitory,” she bids, knuckles white from the iron grip on her bento bag.

“Wait, wait.” Kirumi motions for her to stay in place. She does.

(It’s hard to tell whether her heart skips a beat or if that’s simply her stomach lurching with anxiety.)

“Yes?”

“Don’t call me that in front of my friends. It’s strange,” Kirumi says.

She turns her back.

※

Right before the beginning of class, teacher informs her that her mother has arrived at the academy and has requested to see her.

Kaede clenches her teeth and shudders. She turns to Kirumi.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Kirumi nods without averting her eyes from the board — an odd behavior, Kaede thinks with the quirk of her eyebrow. If she had heard of Kaede’s mother arriving, she would typically be similarly alarmed.

Kaede makes her way to the front office of the main building, her dread accruing with each and every step, until she’s reached her destination. Her mother is standing just before the double doors leading into the school.

Her face is red and stained with tears.

Time seems to dissipate and melt into the ground, but she continues to make her approach.

“M-Mother,” Kaede croaks. “Why are you here?”

“Pack your things, Kaede.”

She freezes in place just a few inches away from her mother.

“Excuse me?”

“Pack your things,” she repeats simply.

“I don’t understand,” Kaede says with an increasing sense of panic. “What’s happening, Mother?”

“We’ve been...dismissed.” Her mother’s lip trembles.

The first words out of her mouth do not address the obvious question of “why.”

“I can’t leave Toujou-sama.” Her breathing is quick and shallow as she leans against the wall and seeks purchase to stop herself from crumpling to the ground.

“Kaede,” her mother sobs, wiping gingerly at her face with a (perfectly manicured) finger. “Please. We have to leave.”

She can hardly speak as her mother turns away to look at the wrinkled piece of paper crushed between her hand.

Kaede says the only thing that comes to her mind.

“I didn’t do anything!” she pleads.

Her mother turns to her — her violet eyes, so similar to her own, glisten with unshed tears.

“I know, Kaede. I know.”

※

They move into a reasonably middle-class section of the city. Her mother works as a housecleaner, but the savings from their former lives keep them comfortable.

Kaede never asked her mother what the circumstances behind their sudden dismissal were. Likewise, her mother never volunteered the information.

Today, Kaede goes to the high school the next ward over to hurriedly take the entrance exam. She’s made peace with the fact that her future is grim — something that ameliorates her tattered nerves.

She writes her name at the top of the paper — it’s an automatic action, but she doesn’t recognize the characters.

It’s the same feeling she gets when she looks in the mirror these days.

(Vicious thoughts simmer deep inside her, releasing a steady poison into her cortex.)

※

Countless nights of intermittent sleep have given her ample time to digest the past three weeks of her life.

She — contrary to whatever Kirumi believed — is not a vacuous servile vessel.

When the night reaches its apex, she slips out of bed and saunters over to the papers on her desk.

Gingerly, she plucks a pen from its place by the lamp.

※

Kaede still bleaches her hair.

※

She stumbles into the train directly after school and taps her foot impatiently as she hangs on to the belt above her. It takes eight minutes to arrive at the ward where the TV station is.

She runs, bag in hand, gripping her proof of callback.

Panting furiously, Kaede finally arrives and follows the posted directions toward the audition room. It’s empty — she breathes a sigh of relief. She takes a seat and checks her phone every minute, aching for it to inch closer to her scheduled time.

“Kaede Akamatsu?”

A young woman, dressed sharply in a white blouse, black skirt, and black kitten heels, emerges from the door. Her long midnight blue hair reaches down to the backs of her knees and leaves Kaede speechless.

“Y-Yes, that’s me,” she sputters.

The woman smiles.

(It reminds Kaede of something else.)

“I’m so glad to see you. Come back with me.”

She rises to her feet in trained obsequity and approaches the woman, who opens the door and beckons her inside. The audition room looks like a gymnasium studio with bright lights and a mirror wall behind a single chair and a desk.

Kaede tentatively takes a seat in the chair as the blue-haired woman strides over to the desk.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions to get to know you better, Akamatsu-san,” the woman says in a singsong voice. It reminds Kaede of wind chimes.

“Okay.” Kaede’s hands ball up into fists in her lap.

“Why do you think you’d be successful at the killing game, Akamatsu-san?” the woman asks sweetly.

“I think I have the personality it takes to win. I can’t bring myself to trust people,” she replies, doing her best to maintain her smile.

“That would certainly benefit you.” The woman jots down some notes before looking back up at her. “Why do you have a hard time trusting people?”

The thick black haze of loathing snakes up her limbs and coils around her. The smile fades.

She can’t stop the name from spilling from her lips.

“Kirumi...Toujou...”

“Pardon me?”

“N-Nothing. I was just talking to myself,” Kaede mumbles.

“I think I heard a name. Did you say ‘Kirumi Toujou’?”

She blanches. She’s crossed the Rubicon, it seems.

“Yes. That’s what I said.”

The woman’s face is alight with intrigue. The sparkle in her deep blue eyes is inexplicably discomfiting.

“Why don’t you tell me more about that? We love hearing more personal stories from our contestants,” she urges, eagerly tapping her pencil against her clipboard.

Kaede isn’t sure she wants to share, but she feels the black haze slither up her back.

“I’m sure you know of the Toujou family.”

“I do. Piano makers, yes?”

“I was the servant for the youngest daughter — ” (‘servant’ is such a harsh word in this day and age) “ — and things happened between us.”

The woman raises her eyebrows, interest thoroughly piqued, but she apparently catches on to the fact that Kaede isn’t going to disclose the events that transpired. A small (and vaguely sinister, although Kaede is likely just imagining things) smile spreads across her lips.

“I see. Tell me how you feel about that, Akamatsu-san.”

Now that she’s been goaded, she can’t stop.

“I hate her.” It comes out as a low whisper, rough and resentful.

Her volume rises steadily as she speaks, each word laced with an increasing amount of poison.

“I hate her for what she did to me. For what she did to my family.”

The woman nods, her smile having grown into a full grin. Kaede balls up her fists even tighter in her lap. The black haze chokes her.

“I hate her. If I get chosen, I want to be the one to show everyone what a fraud she is. I want to kill her myself.”

“I’d like to hear how you’d do that.”

“I — I haven’t thought that far ahead. But I want it to be — what’s the word? Anticlimactic. I don’t care if I die. I know I’m not smart enough to be a good murderer,” Kaede admits with no less abhorrence in her tone. “But if I’m going to hell, she’s coming with me.”

The woman stops writing and her eyes widen. Fear brews furiously in Kaede’s chest.

“Give me one moment, please. Stay right there — don’t move,” the woman urges, setting her pencil down and rising from the chair and scurrying out a door to her right.

Kaede wrings her hands and catches sight of a camera right above the desk. She can’t imagine she looks very good right now.

The door opens and the woman returns looking just as ebullient as she did prior to leaving.

“I think you’ll be very happy with the ideas we have for you, Akamatsu-san,” the woman chirps. “I hope you’re excited, because we certainly are!”

※

Her mother is already gone for the day when Kaede wakes up for school. Blinking blearily, she dons her uniform and descends the staircase. She goes through the motions of her morning — she waters the plants, double checks her bag, pointedly walks past the kitchen. She rarely eats breakfast now.

She steps outside — the sun approaches the apex of the sky slowly but steadily. The final step is checking the mail, which Kaede dutifully does. She reaches into their modest mailbox and feels around for anything. There’s only one item — a large, smooth envelope. Kaede’s stomach churns.

She displaces it from the mailbox and inspects it.

DanganRonpa.

A weight’s been lifted off of her.

She runs back inside and tears open the envelope, dumping its contents on their kitchen table. Her eyes quickly scan the congratulatory letter from Team DanganRonpa before moving on to the important information — the dates, the location, the procedure. There’s one last thing she searches for, and it’s all the way in the back of the folder.

Terrified, Kaede plucks the sheet containing her name tag from its place.

Kaede Akamatsu, Ultimate Pianist.

Gravity is more palpable than it’s ever been as she trembles and falls unceremoniously into the chair.

Kaede laughs — she laughs, unabashed, unrestrained, unfettered.

※

Kaede doesn’t tell her mother. After all, she was complicit until the very end — Kaede owes her nothing. The vacuity in her heart lightens her burden and puts a spring in her step as she begins the journey from her house to the location specified in her folder.

The tips of her fingers tremble as she arrives at the ominously clinical building.

The receptionist tells her to enter the second room on her right. Donning a mask of false confidence, Kaede strides down the hallway. She was warned not to speak to anyone in the other rooms, but she can’t help but glance at each of them — the contestants behind the doors are slightly visible through a small window.

She comes to a stop when she sees her in the room directly across from hers. It’s faint, but unmistakable — that luxurious flaxen hair, groomed to perfection — that smile, brimming with decorum and spite.

Kaede grins.

#dangan ronpa #dangan ronpa v3 #kirumi toujou #kaede akamatsu #fanfiction

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