#preventing us actually doing the paperwork. so i will start training shortly

[shezasag]

officially promoted & like not to boast but i'm starting at $21/hr plus tips for literally not much more work than i'm already doing and i'm not even required to work 40 hrs/week so it'll probably only be ~32 hrs

also my store manager admitted what i already suspected which is that he hired me with the intention of me becoming the shitty manager's replacement from the very beginning

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 161 }

the dark knight.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

you had just started out as a hunter when you were introduced to a tall man donned entirely in dark armor; a man who was shockingly hidden from within the depths of your shadow.

being labeled as an a-rank hunter, you had some skills, being highly proficient in using a weapon that you had spent most of your life perfecting, training with it ever since you first awakened as a hunter.

and by some miracle, you were accepted into an extremely well-known guild:

ahjin guild, ran by the famous sung jinwoo himself.

his story was nothing short of a miracle; a once weak, e-ranked hunter somehow managing to gain strength by unknown means, rising up the ranks with ease before quickly being labeled as the world's strongest hunter within what seemed like mere months.

unfortunately, you recall your own conference and introduction to the scene being lackluster in comparison, with your eyes remaining bright with hope as you spoke with some confidence during your interview. you promised your nation to use your strength as a sole means to protect those who could not defend themselves, earning a polite, round of applause from the audience.

you remember that day vividly, trailing your eyes across the crowd before your gaze landed on someone who stood out the most to you.

glowing, purple eyes were shining with amusement, and his applause actually seemed genuine the more he looked at you. even when you had caught him staring at you, he never once looked away from you.

and it was more than enough to make your whole body tremble with excitement in response.

shortly after your introduction, the chairman reached out to you, telling you that the president of ahjin guild wanted to speak to you, putting you directly in contact with jinwoo. the tall and handsome man then shook your hand while making you an offer you couldn't refuse.

"join my guild and you'll be paid handsomely."

the excitement that coursed through your veins was nearly indescribable, since you were so certain that you would be able to prove yourself to him; to gain some confidence as a hunter while joining jinwoo during these high level raids.

yet oddly enough-

this didn't seem to happen.

instead, you were often left at his office, working on sorting through applicants and reports for the guild while he went alone on such raids. when you asked the other members, jinho and soohyun, if this was normal, they would simply shrug and nod their head yes.

"yeah, i just help the prez look at the reports and stuff. haha, he lets me post on my insta account and has no issues with me lazing around sometimes."

"ah... the boss takes me with him on raids sometimes, but that's only to provide him with equipment. usually, boss doesn't even fight. he uses his shadow soldiers to do all the work during raids."

with both of their admissions swirling within your mind, you could feel your mounting fury growing from deep within you.

you did not become a hunter and join his guild to do mere office work.

you became a hunter to fight.

and you were finally going to do something about it.

your president was currently in his office, and when you looked into his office, you saw his grey eyes looking bored while pouring over some paperwork. with a click of your tongue, you enter his office, causing jinwoo to look up at you with a calm expression.

he says your name before looking back down at the paperwork. "hello, is there something that you need?"

red hot anger was still felt surging through your veins when you take quick strides toward him. you slam the palm of your hand against his stack of papers, preventing him from reading any further.

jinwoo meets your gaze with a raised eyebrow all while leaning back in his seat.

"you're upset."

"no shit, sherlock!" you hiss at him all while pointing an accusing finger at him, "when i first joined your guild three months ago, i had every intention of fighting by your side- not by being your secretary!"

his eyes begin to steadily glow purple again. "don't get too cocky. lately, there have been several a- to s-level gates appearing all across seoul. and you are certainly not ready to face them yet."

"w-what gives you the right to decide that for me! i have spent over 10 years training, being labeled as an a-rank! i can do these raids just fine!"

"you've had zero experience. you could get killed." jinwoo's voice was now filled with venom when he stands from his seat.

"i would have had some experience if you just let me join you on your raids!" you scoff at him, eyes practically shimmering in response to your anger. "and just why do you care if i get killed or not? if that happens, then at least i died for a good cause!"

suddenly, jinwoo's eyes flashed with an unknown emotion, the sensation being potent enough that he had to bite down on his bottom lip. you ignore the strange feeling of guilt that fills you, taking a step back, your voice shaky when you tell him.

"there's an a-rank gate that just appeared, and i'm going with or without you."

"don't you dare-"

jinwoo was about to stop you, but you were faster, flashing him your middle finger before taking advantage of your speed, running away from him and the rest of your guild. you ignore their cries of your name while following the coordinates on your phone to where the gate was.

within what felt like minutes, you arrive at the bright red gate, seeing several authorities push back the civilians that got too close to the gate. a determined expression paints your features as you duck beneath the yellow tape and step into the gate's periphery.

"halt, the members of the hunters guild has not arrived yet. i was given strict orders to not let any other hunters pass through-"

"i am a member of ahjin guild, and i was told by my president to start scoping out the gate. hunter sung says that he will be here shortly." you purposely lie through your teeth, watching with satisfaction when the man's eyes widen with response.

"you're a member of a-ahjin guild, with hunter sung's arrival being soon? then by all means, go on and enter! we're all counting on you!"

you adjust your hold on your weapon while giving him a nod, stepping through the red colored gate with your head held high.

the moment you went into the gate, you felt a little nauseous at the sensation of shifting into what felt like a different reality. surrounding you was a thick forest made even denser by the fog. had you have been a normal human, then there was no way your eyes could see through the fog-

you considered yourself lucky that you could make out the many beasts taking shape from within the fog, brandishing your weapon as you began to work, slashing through each monster that dared remain in your path.

your confidence was building; with each stroke of your weapon, you felt a strange sense of satisfaction as the monsters fell to their demise. the passing of time was unknown to you, yet you never once stopped your movements until you were certain that every monster had been defeated.

you stand amidst a pile of fallen bodies, the fog now clearing as your sight became even clearer in response. taking a step forward, your footsteps made a crunching sound against the ground when a sudden sensation of something powerful looming over you stops you in your tracks.

your breathing becomes labored when you felt an overwhelming presence behind you. you turn around slightly, only to let out a silent scream upon seeing a monstrous spider with venom dripping down its claws.

"shit!"

knowing that you couldn't properly defend yourself from its poison, you try to dash away from it-

but its gigantic form easily caught up with you, and you watch from your periphery as it raised its clawed legs toward you, slamming down on you with a slash! as it manages to pierce through your armor.

"UGH!" you let out a scream of pain, feeling the blood pouring from your wound as the poison spread through you, paralyzing you. you were filled with panic now, feeling your entire body go numb as you struggled to crawl away from the spider.

with each movement, you saw your shadow lengthen from behind you, the sight being so unexpected and strange that you stopped moving. your eyes remain rooted on your shadow, watching with wide eyes as what looked like a tall and muscular knight appear from your shadow's depths.

his glowing, purple eyes acknowledge you for a brief second before he takes a protective stance in front of you. your breathing comes out in labored gasps, watching as he brandishes two daggers before quickly gaining up on the poisonous spider.

the beast didn't stand a chance, for within seconds, the dark knight slashes through its body, seeming to make thousands upon thousands of cuts on its body. you could feel a deep breath escape from your lips in a labored manner as the beast falls, the putrid scent of its blood filling your nostrils, making you nearly gag in response.

as if sensing your distress, the knight that crawled out of your shadow faces you, taking quick strides towards you before placing your pliant form in his arms. as he held you, you became shocked at how solid he felt.

did all shadow soldiers feel this... real and alive?

unable to speak, you allow the shadowy knight to carry you back to safety, appearing within the forest's clearing as his raspy and deep voice spoke to you.

"unfortunately, the exit has closed. we will have to wait until it opens up once more. it may take a couple of hours."

he settles your body on the ground, reaching behind him to pull out a vial filled with a golden liquid. "drink this, it will get rid of the poison's effects."

the knight uncaps the vial for you, tilting the elixir into your parted lips as you swallowed the liquid, emptying the vial as the knight tosses it aside. within a few minutes, you felt the sensation return back to your extremities. testing out the movement on your arm and legs, you call out to the shadow soldier.

"did jinwoo set you up for this?"

he was silent for several seconds before letting out what sounded like a huff, "yes, you could say that."

"tch, why is your master such an asshole?"

the soldier seemed taken aback by your outburst. "a-an asshole? you view my liege in such a manner?"

you narrow your eyes a bit, noticing the slight break within his voice. thinking that it was nothing (for now), you sigh and shake your head, moving up your legs so that you could rest your chin against your kneecaps.

"what did jinwoo name you?"

the shadow soldier was quiet again, as if deep in thought before answering, "he did not give me a name, but many refer to me as 'the first.'"

you hum and look down at your torn armor. "do you respect jinwoo?"

"of course i do... do you?" first asks you in a seemingly nonchalant manner.

"begrudgingly yes." you admit to him with a pout, picking at the ends of your ruined armor. "i hate how cocky he is all the time... and how he's always right."

the last part comes off as a mere whisper, catching the dark knight's attention.

"you think he's always right? how so?"

you could feel the tears of frustration appear in your eyes, "it's just... i hated how jinwoo won't let me join him in his raids... i wanted to prove myself; to prove myself worthy of him."

"worthy?" your words seem to have piqued the knight's interest.

"yeah... i just really admire and respect him." you finally admit to the shadow soldier with your cheeks heating up in response. "i used his story as motivation for me to become brave and stronger, and i wanted so badly to fight by his side! but he never would let me..." you sigh and meet the knight's gaze, "you have no idea how happy i was when i was able to enter this gate and fight...!"

your body began to shake as you began to curl up in response to your admission, "but, i fell short. i couldn't take out the boss of this dungeon... and i got severely paralyzed because of it. jinwoo was right, i wasn't ready-"

"but you were brave and tenacious despite it all." the soldier interrupts you, preventing you from speaking ill of yourself any further.

you saw wisps of shadows appear from your periphery and a sharp hand gently framing at your face. your head was then gently tilted upwards as you were forced to meet first's gaze.

"i was wrong... you're strong enough to take on anything... and i shouldn't have held you back."

when cracks were seen in his dark armor, you felt your eyes go wide in response, the shadowy armor now disappearing as it revealed a familiar man to you.

"looks like i ran out of mana... i can't keep up this appearance anymore."

your throat turns dry, seeing jinwoo dressed only in his dress pants as his entire upper body remained bare. you kept on sputtering his name when his large hand frames at your face. jinwoo lets out gentle coos of your name, resting his forehead against yours while pressing a kiss against your skin.

"do you want to know why i was so eager to have you in my guild... and why i never let you do anything?"

feeling overwhelmed at his sudden transformation, you could only manage a nod in response.

jinwoo chuckles a bit, wrapping his arms around you as he brought you even closer to his chest. "the reasoning is simple, my dear, and it's solely because i wish to protect you while remaining close to you."

your breath hitches in response to his confession, causing you to meet his gaze once more, "y-you... you want to protect me?"

the s-ranked hunter's eyes began to glow a deeper shade of purple, seeming to shine with pure mirth before admitting to you, "of course i wish to protect you; i want to protect every single person that i love-"

"and that especially includes you."

your heart was suddenly felt racing within the confines of your chest, with you being held tightly within jinwoo's embrace with his lips hovering over your own.

"...may i?" his voice becomes uncharacteristically shy, and you manage to give him a shy nod before jinwoo dives in towards your lips, sealing it perfectly in a kiss that conveyed his love and devotion toward you.

and with his lips perfectly slotted against yours, you figured that there was no better way to pass the time than to share a million kisses with the man that you have always admired and adored.

a.n. - so re-reading solo leveling's later chapters, where he fights antares, i get so heated, remembering how hot he looked donned in armor made of complete and utter darkness, like dear god jinwoo, just take me- I AM YOURS! 😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 55 - Utter Fixation

Title: Irreverent Pt. 55 - Utter Fixation

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~14K

A/N: This one is a doozy lols. Solnyshko is Russian for sunshine. 

Men of Irreverent: Casting

Irreverent Series Masterlist

"Nice shot." You hug Spencer, his bony frame shaking just slightly as he laughs at your comment. "Bet you don't make fun of my marksmanship again, huh?" he jostles you as the two of you stand off to the side while Derek and Aaron wrap up with the SWAT team leader and ensure that both Novak and Cavanaugh are set on their way to the hospital, with appropriate protection in place while they await their CIA handler. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen," you smirk, before looping your arm through Spencer's as he leads you out to the car. As you pass by Agent Novak in a gurney, he nods at you in thanks. You offer a smile back, trudging through the field surrounding the warehouse. Spencer doesn't say much else and you know he's trying his best not to overwhelm you. You'd seemed shell shocked when Derek had gotten to you and it was only now, when the adrenaline was seeping out of your system, that you felt more capable. You lean against the car with Spencer, your mind fogging up as you careen through everything that had happened. You hadn't seen Clyde yet, so you imagine he's at Quantico. You'll have to ask Aaron about that. It's a wonder they'd managed to actually find you, but you'd never really doubted the team, no matter how much the odds had been stacked against them. Aaron had been the one to take out Ramos. He hadn't trusted any of the SWAT guys to do it. Not when it came to you. He wouldn't trust anyone else with that. Not that he had told you, but you had known even before you got to him. You see Derek and Aaron walking towards you, Derek pulling you into a quick hug before getting into the front driver's side. You expect Aaron to go around to ride shotgun, but he follows you in as you enter the back of the car, leaving Spencer to go sit up front. When you're buckled in, you look over to him. His eyes can't seem to leave you and you're struck by the thought: he'd been genuinely scared. The car rumbles to life as Derek pulls off onto the road and with one quick glance forward to ensure that neither Derek nor Spencer are paying you much mind, you close the distance between you and Aaron in the back. You press up against him and claim his mouth, a silent reassurance that you are indeed alright. He knows what you're doing and he lets you kiss him, the silent ambient noises of the car drowning out the two of you in the back. If Morgan or Reid noticed, they wisely kept their mouths shut and their eyes trained on the road in front. He can taste you – taste your apology,  your regret. He feels your shoulders relax under his touch as his hand comes around to hold you to him. As you withdraw for a breath, he can't help the curve of his mouth from slipping into a small smile. "Does this mean we're back together?" he murmurs against your lips. He's not expecting a response beyond a laugh or agreement, but instead he sees confusion flicker onto your face as you move back to look at him properly. "What are you talking about?" He explains then. How Strauss had come to his office with the paperwork. How he'd seen your signature on the first page and she had expected he would sign the second. How he had indeed signed it, trusting that you had your reasons.

You feel your breath leave your lungs in utter disbelief. He'd thought…he'd thought you'd ended it. Just like that. He had signed it out of sheer faith and then gone home to Jack and pretended like nothing had happened. You can feel the pinprick tears in your eyes as you come to understand some of what he too must have gone through in the last couple weeks. You shake your head in disbelief, your mouth dry as you sniffle and clear your throat. "I – I didn't know," you tell him softly, your hand grasping his in the darkness. You'd never known he would have to sign something too. You'd only been shown that first page. You thought that would be it. That just you telling Strauss would be enough. Had you known – "Oh honey, I am so sorry." Your whispered apology is followed by your mouth on his once more, lips ghosting over his face, pressing to his skin. Physical atonement for the agitation and concern and worry you had no doubt caused him. Had you known that he too would have had to sign something, you would've spoken to him. Would've forced yourself to explain what was going on, as much as you could've. Perhaps you should've known better but back then, fresh after the day Clyde had taken you, your mind had been in disarray and you'd acted on instinct alone, doing your best to shield both him and Jack against any blowback from your assignment. You'd acted out of fear. Aaron only nods, drawing you in closer, tucked so close to him, you're practically in his lap. He's reacting to it a lot more calmly than you'd expected. No berating at you not thinking things through, because of course he would have to sign something too, and why wouldn't you just talk to him. Maybe, implicitly, he understood how much of a mess you'd been back then, trying to do whatever you could to remove the trail leading from you to him and Jack. Making sure that if anyone were to come after you, they would be safe.

You can feel his lips at your hairline as you push closer into him, running your fingers down his back, finding that pressure point that has him relaxing entirely under your touch as he holds you. The silent understanding that this – the two of you – was unshakeable. You'd left him and trusted him to find you. He'd let you go and trusted you to return. *------------* Clyde thought you were the mole. That you've been planted at the Bureau under your father's orders. Aaron and the others had filled you in on that as you'd neared Quantico, with Aaron still fretting that you needed sleep and rest before dealing with any of this. If it were up to him, he'd have you hooked up to an I.V. and put on bedrest. As it stood, it was not up to him, so now you're sat in a glass conference room, awaiting the rest of the team. The second you had arrived back at the Bureau, a couple agents had met you all in the parking garage and the four of you had been led past McKinney's office and to this room. You imagine the rest of the team will be joining you shortly, as you all had been the closest. It's really starting to sink in – Clyde thinks you're the mole, he'd talked to McKinney, you were escorted here by agents. You'd tried to protest when they'd met you in the garage, but one look from Aaron had you silent. He wants you to go along with this and not cause problems as long as possible. Buy time to figure out what was going on and what Clyde's angle was. It's only been a minute since you all were let into the room, Morgan and Reid were sat in chairs around the large table while Aaron stood leaned against it. He watches as you look out the glass walls, your eyes squinting, and he can tell you're thinking through what to do next. Aaron finds himself uncharacteristically calm regarding the situation – now that you're back, it shouldn't take much to convince McKinney just how ridiculous the entire notion of you being a mole really was. He isn't being naïve. He's aware that Easter potentially could have a case, given everything you've told him about your deal with your father. However, as it stands, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that it isn't the truth, and he can't imagine any proof that would show otherwise. "Can I borrow your phone?" Aaron starts at your sharp voice, your hand reaching out towards him almost impatiently. Brow furrowing in confusion, he's about to ask why, but the urgency on your face has him handing the device over before he can. He watches as you move away to the opposite side of the room, unable to step outside with two agents still standing guard. He shares a look with Morgan, who only shrugs as the two of them await the end of the call. With your head turned away to prevent Reid from watching, there isn't much more that they can do. You wrap up your call quickly, unsure how much time you have before Clyde and McKinney arrive, when you hear the door opening behind you. "Hey Cap." Your heart stops. No. It wasn't – You turn slowly, eyes widening as you see him standing in the doorway, a smile on his face, eyes crinkled at the corners. A soft gasp escapes you as you take him in. Then before you know it, you've barreled over to him, arms wrapped tight around his waist as his encircle your shoulders, tucking your head into his chest. Only one word comes to your mind, making its way down through you and settling against your ribs – Solnyshko. John presses a kiss to your hairline and you can feel the tears threatening to fall. Because if Aaron's arms were home, then John's were the lake house growing up. The one you think of fondly with the rose tinged glasses of nostalgia. Back to warm summers and too much sticky sweet ice cream dripping down your hands. To the thrill of jumping off the pier, scared and screaming and thrilled all at once. To the soft touches and gentle kisses shared on the patio with boys whom you would move on from but always remember. To the child you were, wide eyed and curious, wanting to have it all. He's a different kind of home. "We thought we could use an extra hand." You turn around at Aaron's deep voice coming from behind you, and there's a smile on his face that you're not sure how to interpret just yet. You can feel tears clouding your vision as you look at him, John's warmth still surrounding you, his arm still holding you near as he keeps you by his side. He'd called him. He'd called John. For you. Of course he had. Thank you, you mouth at him, catching just the hint of a second smile on his face before you're tackled by Penelope, who shoves John to the side. Behind her, you can make out Emily, JJ, and Rossi entering the room as well. "Oh my goodness, sugar! You're alright! I mean of course you are. We knew you'd be alright. We never doubted it, did we?" she asks Derek frenetically, whom you assume is behind you, but doesn't wait for a response before continuing her frenzied inspection, her hands running over your arms and hair, making sure nothing was out of place. "But you're alright, right? I mean when we saw what Easter did to you on that video  – so, so awful. Who would waterboard someone? I mean, sure, you can learn anything on the internet, but that is still abhorrent. But don't you worry because I'm hunting down the other guys that were there with him, so we'll take care of them and of course the Director already knows, because Hotch showed him, and – " You break away from Penelope, trying to keep pace with her mile a minute voice, trying to understand everything she'd just said, trying to figure out what video… There's a sharp inhale that you hadn't realized was your own. Your lip quivers, eyes wide as the sinking, dreadful realization reaches you. In the background you can just barely make out John's voice asking what video she's talking about. You can't do anything but shake your head in horror. No. No. That's not. No. Aaron. No no no no no. He's looking at you and you know. He knows. No. You can't breathe. You can feel the air leaving your lungs but none seems to be making its way back in. Through the din you can make out Penelope and Derek moving towards you to make sure you're alright. John is still standing right where he'd landed when Penelope had pushed past him. Aaron. He'd seen. He knows. Oh God. Behind you, the door opens once more. You don't turn around to see who it is. Not yet. Aaron watches silently as you freeze, your shoulders tensing. He'd stopped himself from grabbing you right as the door opened, not wanting to give any visual to McKinney and Easter alluding to yours and his personal relationship. He knows better and he allows the part of him that knows the political play here, to overrule the part begging him to go to you. To seize you into his arms and draw you away from this room, this building. Take you home where none of this could touch you. No one could hurt you. Instinctively, your hands graze over your stomach, stopping momentarily before continuing up to your face and wiping away at the tears that had fallen. He sees you take a deep breath. Then another. Lips pressed tightly. Hands made into fists. It's like watching a metamorphosis in reverse – the unbridled, frantic panic and fury slip away, replaced by a cocooned version of you, held tight and wound together, guarding your soft spots within. "If everyone could please take a seat." Director McKinney enters the room after Easter who had already made himself at home near the front, a stack of folders and a tablet in his hands, his eyes curiously looking over the lot of you inside. You, still turned around and facing the other way, and every other person in that room, holding their breath and waiting for you to turn back. At the sound of McKinney's voice, you push through, forcing your mind to shut out the pieces of information that were not helpful in the moment. Aaron had already talked to you on the way up about not doing anything to get on McKinney's bad side right then, and you know that refusing to acknowledge his presence while you had a breakdown in the corner wouldn't earn you any brownie points. So, simply put, you didn't have the luxury to absorb it all. You couldn't think about the fact that they knew – that Aaron knew – about what Clyde did, why you had gone to Strauss, the baby. Your baby. His baby. Your baby. You didn't have the time to let it sink in, to take him aside, to give you both the time to fall apart. You couldn't. Not now. Later. First this. Later. With that, the steel trap clamps down, caging it all away. Turning, you grab the first chair in front of you, while everyone else who had been crowded near the doorway shuffles in. Aaron quickly settles down to your left, a brush of his hand to your shoulder and a softly muttered Later that was meant for your ears alone, but was caught by John as he claims the chair to your right. As you look up, you see Gladys trotting in after McKinney, a righteous look on her face as she carries what looks like a bundle of cloth and a mug into the room right behind her boss, and walks over to set both items down in front of you. With a quick motherly brush of your hair, she leaves as quickly as she came in, defiantly avoiding McKinney's eyes. It's quiet as everyone settles in, the shuffling of clothing and people, accompanied by the groan of government budget issued chairs. You reach out for the bunched up fabric on the table in front of you and unravel it to reveal a regulation F.B.I. crewneck. You're quick to slip out of the stiff leather jacket you still had on from a day prior, revealing a strappy top beneath, which you cover up, basking in the warmth the sweater provided. Gladys had also brought you a mug of hot chocolate from the kitchens and you reach for it gratefully, taking a quick sip, the hot liquid burning a molten streak down your throat in the best of ways.

From the corner of your eye you can see the regret in Aaron's posture as he sees you enjoy the most basic of comforts offered by someone else. Something he should've considered. You're able to offer him only the slightest of assurance with your eyes – he'd found you, that's what was truly important. *------------* "Who is this?" McKinney asks, gesturing towards John once everyone was seated and Clyde was preparing to speak at the front. You exchange a look with Aaron and John both, realizing that perhaps John's presence wasn't entirely Bureau approved. "I am exercising my right to retain private counsel," you speak up before either one of them could. "That –," McKinney begins, only to be interrupted by Spencer, " – is allowed per Section 56 Code 19 of the Employee Handbook. All agents retain the right to employ private counsel in the event of accusations levied against their person as a function of their role within the Bureau." Reid rattles it all off quickly and not for the first time, you find yourself jealous of his eidetic memory. Yours was good, but not nearly like his. You shoot Spencer a grateful smile, before meeting McKinney's eyes once more. "You're paying him?" The question comes from Clyde, eyebrow raised, in a tone so derisive that you have to wonder if he had ever liked you at all, or if the man had spent the past number of months that you two worked together, silently seething at your very existence. You don't have to look at Aaron to know that he's already pulled out his wallet, when he hands you a twenty dollar bill. You slide it across the table, over to John, never once turning away from Clyde's critical look, your own unwavering under his scrutiny. He had no idea who he was going to war with. McKinney looks between you and Clyde, before sighing and nodding his okay. "Very well." He turns towards Clyde to give him the floor. Your eyes narrow as you take a sip of the hot chocolate again, careful to not show any discomfort outwards. Beneath the table, you can feel Aaron's hand resting against your thigh, the heat of it reminding you that you aren't alone. McKinney had let you have them all here with you, likely in reaction to that video, if Aaron had indeed showed it to him. He had the kindness to not make you be alone with the man who had tortured you. If Clyde was going to be accusing you of anything, he'd have to do it front of everyone. On your other side, you feel John shift, his knee skimming against yours before settling down to be right against it, a silent pledge – he's there too, and he isn't leaving. *------------* "I believe we all know why we are here," McKinney starts, his hands interlaced together on the table, a serious set to his brow. He's doing his best to keep this entire procedure civil. You know he's doing you a favor by allowing you to be there when Clyde offers up his accusation formally. He's offering you the opportunity for rebuttal before any of it is written down and documented. Saving you, potentially, from an entire formal review. Part of you wonders who that is meant to protect however – you, Clyde, or McKinney himself? You nod to indicate that you understand, meeting McKinney's eyes. Walter McKinney – as you'd come to learn – was a fair man and his rise in the Bureau had been no fluke. He knows that the reason you'd brought in the BAU at all was because you hadn't trusted anyone – not even him. You have to believe that when the two of you do eventually speak alone, that he would understand why. Clyde clears his throat, turning everyone's attention to him and the screen. Him, you were extremely wary of. You had been immediately after he'd tortured you, of course. However, he'd managed to convince you, that for him, that had been standard operating procedure. He'd been able to use your own fear and insecurities to convince you to go along with it. Were he not sitting across a table, gearing up to accuse you of treason, you might have allowed that one act to pass – he had simply been trying to make sure you were prepared for the worst. Not anymore. "I would've preferred this meeting be held behind closed doors," he begins, tilting back in his chair and keeping one eye trained on you at all times as though he thought you'd try and pull a disappearing act, "However, no matter. I will be walking through the evidence gathered against Agent L/N, proving that she has been a plant working against the Bureau since the very beginning." His declaration is followed by silence from everyone else in the room, and were it not for the seriousness of the accusation, you might've laughed. The screen at the front of the room flickers on, and a black and white surveillance quality photo of an airstrip appears. You're disembarking with your father at your side. You're eighteen, your hair up in a ponytail, John's Columbia Law School hoodie, rumpled from far too many hours on an airplane. Beside you, you feel him tense as he too realizes exactly how old this photograph is. How young you were in that. It's from that summer, so very long ago. When he and Julian had gone on that trip, just the two of them. You'd gone with your father. There's a man standing by a car at the foot of the steps leading down from the plane. For the first time in over seven years, you set eyes on Volkov again. "For those of you who may not be aware, the man in the photo is Alexander Volkov. Volkov is wanted by many Eastern European governments, and is notoriously on the books for the Russian government, despite no official ties. If you recall the bombing in Sokovia, five years ago, you're looking at the man responsible." Easter had been part of Olympus. He hasn't confirmed it, but that was the only thing that made sense. You look around and know that at least both Aaron and Emily had reached a similar conclusion. Nothing else would explain him having surveillance photos of you from a decade ago. In the wake of Clyde's explanation, you can feel Aaron's eyes on you from your left, but you don't dare look at him. The rest of the team is taking his lead and not saying anything in response either, for fear they might say the wrong thing. Ultimately, it's John who speaks up. "She's eighteen there, practically a child. What exactly is the purpose of showing us this?" Clyde's eyes narrow as he realizes that this won't be quite as easy as anticipated. If he'd expected Aaron or the others to display any shock or revulsion at his revelation…well, he really didn't know your team that well, did he? "It sets the foundation," Clyde counters, his hand once more on the controller. "A pattern of behavior, indicative of less than honorable intentions, bad company, and plenty of opportunity." With that, he clicks a button on the remote, replacing the photo with another one. This one is of just you, exiting a building on Harvard's campus. You have to be in your second year – your hair is dyed because Matthew liked it better that way and you'd given in to his request. You're carrying books in your hand as you walk, hair whipping around in the wind. It's you, but it looks nothing like you. With a deep internal sigh, you sink in further into your chair. You had a better idea now of where this was going. "This was taken outside the Lowell Lecture Hall. You were seen entering and exiting the building the entirety of the Fall semester, right in time for the Math 55 lecture," Clyde announces, his eyes issuing a challenge at you to explain this away. Unfortunately for him, his jab doesn't quite land with the audience, as Rossi raises an eyebrow at him. "What does a Math class have anything to do with this?" However, instead of Clyde, it is Reid who answers him. "Harvard, oddly enough isn't known for its advanced math program but it is known for one particular class," Reid explains quickly, his eyes flitting over you with some curiosity. "When you're good at math - good enough to get into Harvard - you take a math class called "Math 15". When you're better than that you take "Math 25", but when you're the best, the absolute best, you take "Math 55": Honors Advanced Calculus and Linear Algebra. Graduates are immediately employed by the U.S. Government because they're too dangerous to work anywhere else. More specifically, they're employed at the NSA." Reid's spiel is met with mixed reactions. Rossi shifts back in his seat, hands crossed in front of him, an oddly smug look on his face. The rest of the team looks mildly surprised as they process what Reid had said. Aaron sits beside you, unshaken, and John of course had already known you had attended the class. Clyde clears his throat, shifting forward in his seat. "Thank you, Agent Reid," he says to Spencer in a clipped tone that has you bristling in reaction. "Doctor." He looks up at your interruption, brow quirked in question. "It's not Agent. It's Dr. Reid," you clarify, your lips pursed, jaw tight. "You took this class?" McKinney asks, finally breaking his silence since Clyde had begun. You swallow, meeting his eyes. He was still your mentor. What he thought about you, still mattered. You can feel the attitude you'd just given Clyde waning ever so slightly. "I audited it. For all anyone knows, I would've flunked out." "No, you wouldn't," McKinney replies quietly, his gaze appraising. His dark eyes holding all the knowledge on you that he'd amassed in the past year of being your closest supervisor within the Bureau. He has no doubts when it comes to your capabilities. "Why didn't you just enroll in it?" You shrug nonchalantly, the large crewneck shifting off your shoulders slightly as you do. "It's a large commitment. I didn't want to be beholden to every assignment. I already had a lot on my plate." It wasn't a lie. Not exactly anyways. McKinney looks like he doesn't quite believe you. You thrive with having too much to do. "Is that the only reason?" he digs, his eyes firmly on you, watching for anything, any sign. You let out a short breath of exasperation which you manage to disguise, deciding to just give them what they wanted. "I didn't exactly want to be on a list of people considered dangerous by the US government. I wouldn't have said yes to working for the NSA. I wanted to be a lawyer." Your eyes cut to John and he meets them, because you both know – you had wanted to be a lawyer because he was. It had been part of the plan. Your plan with him. Your justification is met with some more silence and you can tell, that for McKinney, the deck is slowly starting to stack against you. He now viewed you as intentionally deceptive regarding your abilities and usefulness to the government. As ex military, to him, that was on par with avoiding the draft. "Attending closed session classes that you weren't actually enrolled in wasn't the only thing you did in college. You also made quite a few friends, didn't you? You aren't exactly a stranger to relationships of convenience." As Clyde speaks, the screen changes once more behind him and a photo from the ill fated engagement shoot that Matthew's mother had insisted on pops up. Your hair is curled, you're wearing a long burgundy  gown, standing beside Matthew in front of Lippman House, where the two of you had first met. You're smiling, both of you. On your hand sits an incredibly prominent ring, the stone shining brilliantly in the sunlight. This time, both John and Aaron tense, and your mind, unwanted, goes back to the video that he'd seen. There's a chance – if they'd caught what you said to Clyde's lackey towards the end. There's a chance that Aaron knows about Matthew. About what he'd done. You can't look at him. Instead, you look across to Derek, who's shifted forward in his chair, his fists tightly balled up on the table in front of him, his brow furrowed and body tense as he looks from the screen, to you, and then to Aaron beside you, before meeting your eyes again. He doesn't have to say it. The way his eyes go from Aaron and then you and back to Aaron, says it all. Fuck. "My personal relationships are not up for discussion," you assert slowly, the feeling of all eyes on you causing your skin to break out with goosebumps. "You don't get to decide what is and isn't relevant here," Clyde rebuts, venom in his voice. "Is this how things are done at Interpol? Because in polite society, we don't simply ambush people." John's tone might be light but his posture spoke to how much he was holding back in making just that small comment. You know, that if you gave the go ahead, he would obliterate Clyde. "Don't worry Mr. Hawthorne," Clyde smirks. "I'm certain over the course of this discussion, we will arrive at the matter of you as well. Pretty sure I saw some your face in the stack as well. Or, is your objection to the fact that you were never anything official – just used and tossed aside when it was convenient?" This bastard. The fury you feel at him talking to John in that way. For him to insinuate that he knew anything about you and John. For him to talk down to John like that. You open your mouth to tell him off, but before you can, you feel the dig of John's fingers at your thigh and you look up to see him shake his head. He knows that you wouldn't let something like that about him simply pass. He's telling you that he knows what you were, and that Clyde – well, Clyde could go fuck himself. John didn't want you tossing your cards down just for him. Hold on to them. You're going to need them. You press your lips together tight and bite your tongue, your hand reaching for his under the table, fingers intertwining with his. He squeezes your hand gently – once, twice, thrice – just how he used to, before letting go. Aaron watches the interaction between you and John, before turning his attention back to Easter, who waits for a beat more, trying to bait you into lashing out, before he moves on. The screen changes once more, to be replaced with a photograph of you with three boys. You're on what appears to be a yacht, the blue ocean spanning out endlessly behind you. You're seated on the shoulders of a tall man with short, dark hair and light brown skin, his hands wrapped around your thighs to hold you steady atop him. Your hair is back to its natural shade and it cascades past your shoulders, hitting the top of your bikini clad breasts, your white bathing suit stark against your sun-kissed skin. Beside the two of you, are two other men – one with darker hair, standing nearly as tall at the first while the other – a stocky blond – sits atop his shoulders. The four of you are grinning, smiles carefree and happy as can be. The kind of loose joy that is really only found amongst college students indulging in spring break a little too much. "You know, Clyde, just because you don't have friends of your own for show and tell, doesn't mean you can use mine." The smartass comment is out of your mouth before you could hold it back and you know you'll pay for it later as Clyde elects to ignore it in the moment. From your left you feel Aaron's eyes on you briefly before darting back to the front. Well, you were definitely going to pay for it in one way at least. "Patrick Kane," Easter's laser points to the stocky blond man, before the screen changes to reveal just a photo of him. "His father is part of the Irish mob and runs their international businesses out of Europe. He himself now owns leadership of the faction out of London." Kane was going to love that he had been part of your indictment with the Bureau. He was sure to get a particular kick out of it, considering the number of times he got in trouble because you and Ricky decided to burst into his classes and stage a kidnapping. But well, it was usually warranted. Impromptu trips to the Hamptons took precedence over Psych 101.  

From the corner of your eye you can see Penelope appraising Kane with some interest and you have a feeling you're going to be talking to her about all the boys afterwards. The screen changes again to reveal Ambrose Hastings - Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome himself. However this time, the photo of him is shown only briefly before its replaced with another one that has your breath catching. Hastings is seated with you in his lap, your lips slotted against his, a large hand wrapped around your back, holding you close to him. "Ambrose Hastings and his father own the largest weapons contracts internationally, for those of you who many not know. Just friends, huh? " Clyde's taunt has your eyes flashing with rage. How on earth had he gotten this photograph?! You know for a fact that this wasn't posted anywhere. It's from the trip to Monte Carlo for your twenty first birthday. You're wearing the black dress with the deep slit up one side, a tiara sitting at the crown of your head. Ambrose's large hands splayed across your thigh and his lips keeping yours warm, as was your pattern anytime you and Matthew were on a break. John has come to the same realization as you. This is not a photograph that you or anyone in the group would've leaked. Which meant that Easter had acquired it himself. There's a grim set to his shoulders as the two of you exchange a look, before he speaks. "What did you do, pay off the waitstaff for that?" When Clyde doesn't say anything in response, you have your answer. He had. He had set up someone on the yacht to get anything they could on you. The feeling of revulsion that crawls through you at that realization – he had been watching you, even in spaces where you should have had the assumption of privacy. "This is a cheap ploy," John continues, now that he had the confirmation on exactly how far Easter had gone to gather his so-called evidence against you. "You think you can slander Agent L/N and make inappropriate digs to provoke Agent Hotchner. However all you've accomplished thus far is displaying your inappropriate invasion of privacy into the life of a young woman, which would normally be grounds for a harassment suit." The barely veiled threat is in John's words. If Clyde doesn't have anything real to share, and soon, he will bury him. Before Clyde has a chance to say anything more, there's a knock at the door, and Gladys peaks her head in to interrupt. "Excuse me," she starts, her hand against the door to hold it ajar ever so slightly, "There is a call from Director Richards." "See if I can return the call later today," McKinney tells her quickly, before turning back to the table to continue the discussion. "Actually sir, the call is for Agent L/N," she clarifies, her eyes meeting McKinney's firmly before shifting over to you. You can feel the sharpness of McKinney's gaze on you as he wonders why Richards is calling you directly. With a quick look around, you stand with a nod towards Gladys. "I'll take it outside, thank you." With that, you quickly walk around the table and out the door, following her to McKinney's office, where she's routed the call for you. In the wake of your departure, the room is quiet. John turns to Aaron, one eyebrow raised in question. "Director Richards, as in – ?" Aaron looks quickly towards McKinney, whose eyes are fixed on the door where you'd left, before he nods at John in confirmation. Director Richards, as in, the director of the CIA, had called and asked for you personally. *------------* You're gone for ten minutes which might as well have been an hour, for as long as it stretched out. Easter tried to engage McKinney into a side conversation twice, before giving up and sulking at the front. Prentiss and JJ's eyes flit from the door, to Easter, and then one another, the two of them engaged in a silent conversation he wasn't privy to. On his right, Aaron can see John and Garcia engaged in a hushed conversation as she types away at her laptop, seemingly looking up something for him. Aaron meets Rossi and Morgan's eyes, both of them carrying the same question that was in McKinney's stalwart gaze that had locked on the door you'd left through and not wavered in the ten minutes since. Why on earth was the director of the CIA calling you right now? How did he even know you? Despite your offer from the CIA, Aaron can hardly imagine that the Director himself would be involved, so even that kernel of knowledge that he has over the others doesn't offer any clarity in the moment. At just past ten minutes, you can be seen making your way back, quickly bypassing the two agents still standing guard, one of them opening the door to let you in. You're met with McKinney's pointed look as soon as you enter, demanding some sort of explanation. You clear your throat and offer a polite smile. "Both Agents Novak and Cavanaugh are recovering well," you reveal, standing demurely in front of Director McKinney, who eyes you with a guarded look, no doubt simmering at the notion of one of his peers deigning to circumvent him and go directly to one of his agents. "Director Richards asked that I pass on his gratitude for the Bureau's role in the rescue and recovery of his agents. He will be reaching out to you again, later, in order to thank you properly." McKinney nods slowly, giving you permission to return to your seat, despite knowing that that had hardly been everything Richards had spoken to you about. A thank you did not take ten minutes. A mere thank you, would not have gone to you directly. Not if you didn't have some sort of personal relationship with Richards that he wasn't privy to. There is a palpable shift in the room as you reclaim your seat, making a show of taking your time to settle back in properly, leaning forward to grab a bottle of water from the center of the table and then unhurriedly opening it, taking a delicate sip, closing it, and then setting it back on the table before shifting in your seat to where your elbow rests on the arm of the chair closest to Aaron. Your posture is slouched, where before you had been a stiff board. As you lean closer to him, deliberately tilting your head to appear that much more near him, Aaron gets a whiff of that smell that is undoubtedly you. You, without a proper shower, but still you. Yes, it is quite obvious that you and Director Richards had spoken far beyond a simple exchange of gratitude. The tides have changed. *------------* Easter attempts to continue as though nothing had transpired, resuming his position at the helm, the image of you and Hastings kissing – which Aaron had carefully avoided looking at for the past ten minutes, because far be it from to judge you on your past, no matter who it was with – replaced by one of the final boy. "Ricky Costello, part of the Costello family. Son of Frank Costello." Easter doesn't bother expanding further. There wasn't an agent on the eastern seaboard that wasn't familiar with the Costello family. So this was the kid who had punched van Doren in the face. Aaron liked this one. He liked him a fair amount more than Hastings, that was for sure. Across the way, he sees Rossi's eyebrows raise with some surprise, a glint of recognition in his eyes. He isn't entirely surprised by that. He'd always known that Rossi had ties with the Italian crime families. Easter clicks another button and a series of surveillance photos replaces Costello. They are all black and white, with the date on the corner indicating that they are all from last year. You're getting into your car, with Costello helping you in, the two of you smiling at one another. "Would you like to explain what you were doing, speaking with Ricky Costello last year? This was after you started working on Atlantis." You remain nonchalant, taking another sip of the hot chocolate that was bound to be cold by now, but you'd never deny yourself chocolate in any form. You casually smirk up at Easter's question, answering it only with a shrug. "Were you giving Costello information regarding Atlantis?" Easter probes, his frustration with your changed demeanor highly evident. He had preferred when you were at least somewhat taking this seriously. "Is a connection with the Costello family all it takes to accuse someone of treason nowadays?" you drawl, eyeing Easter from behind the rim of your mug, before leaning forward and setting it down on the table. "In that case, there might be some other people you want to have a talk with." Aaron is fully expecting you to be hinting at Rossi with that line, though why you'd throw him under the bus was a mystery. However, he watches as you stare resolutely ahead. Except, you aren't looking at Easter. You definitely aren't looking at Rossi. No, you're looking at McKinney. McKinney who, if Aaron isn't mistaken, looks just the slightest bit uncomfortable in the wake of your statement. McKinney who shifts in his chair ever so slightly, his eyes darting down and to the left imperceptibly quickly – something that might have gone unnoticed otherwise, but unfortunately for him, he happened to be seated in a room full of profilers. Huh. "Let's move on, shall we," McKinney instructs Easter, avoiding your eyes and everyone else's in the room. Easter's mouth falls open in disbelief at the turn of events. Your presence, which you'd kept buttoned up for the first half of this meeting, now permeated the room, and Aaron is reminded all over again of your interview. How he had initially sat back, waiting for you to stumble. How you'd gone one by one, getting to or through to each of them. How you'd called out even his bluff. You were commanding, charming, and serene all at once, and he'd marveled at how one person could possibly embody all those things at the same time. "You shot me!" Easter accuses, grasping for something, provoked by your calm attitude, and believing that to be his hole in one. The one thing that could not be denied. His one piece of evidence against you that couldn't be brushed aside, threatened away, or dismissed. "Yes, you got me there," you chuckle lightly, and Aaron almost feels bad for Easter. Almost. Across the way, Morgan has a smirk on his face that likely matches his own. You shift forward, placing your hands on the table in front of you, your eyes trained critically on Easter and Easter alone. "I shot you twice, actually. Once, two centimeters above the center of the heart and another to the left, one centimeter below the fifth rib. Both shots take advantage of the portions of the vest designed to be thickest and also are far enough away from any major arteries to avoid you bleeding out to death in the event that the vest isn't enough. Even if both shots had made it to their destination, you would have had at least thirty five to forty minutes, at minimum, before you were in any real danger of not recovering. If you don't believe me, I suggest you ask a doctor." With that, you lean back once more, giving both Easter and McKinney the opportunity to offer a response in opposition. After a few seconds, when neither one is forthcoming, you sit up straight once more. "Why were you dismissed from Project Olympus?" *------------* You watch, your eyes directly on Clyde as he falters under your gaze. You can tell that your question had caught McKinney by surprise as well. McKinney, who had looked at you differently ever since the call with Richards. You would have to thank the man later. His call could not have come at a more opportune time. With Clyde unable to answer the question, you decide to answer it for him. "Is it because you wasted resources and defied orders by continuing surveillance on me because you were convinced that I had something to do with my father's business?"

���How would you know that?” McKinney asks, though his eyes say that he already knows. He is merely confirming in order to have your answer on the record.

“Director Richards was on Olympus as well,” you answer. “He was highly surprised when he learned that Agent Easter was overseeing the investigation into the Atlantis disappearances.”

McKinney nods, having expected that, you’re sure. You already know he’s trying his best to piece together what little he could about your conversation with Richards. No doubt, it’s something he’ll question you about in more detail when it��s just the two of you later on.

You both turn back to Clyde expectantly, still waiting for him to chime in with an explanation. Director Richards’ word would be taken at face value and McKinney wouldn’t question it. Not for this. "Anyone who paid the slightest bit of attention – every single person on that assignment – they should've seen what I saw,” Clyde seethed, pushing up from the table and standing up, his body trembling with caged fury. “He took you along to meetings. He introduced you to his contacts. You were being initiated, tested. Of course I kept an eye on you! It would have been negligent not to." You shake your head in disbelief at exactly how unhinged he sounded. How incensed. This wasn’t a man who had proof. This was a man who had believed his theory for a long time, and was unwilling to part ways with it. "And what did you see?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest. "I saw a girl who was making connections - with everyone. Sons of the mob, the mafia, and the cartels. Saudi princes and daughters of Russian tycoons. Up and coming Chinese heiresses. If there was a single person with even the slightest of pull on that campus, they knew your name. They considered you a friend. You're telling me that's the move of someone who wasn't establishing themselves to take over the reins?" "What can I say? I'm a friendly person."

It wasn’t clear to just you. It was clear to everyone that Clyde didn’t have proof. None to speak of. "If you'd spent even half as much time and effort into watching her father that you did into watching her, maybe you would have learned enough about him to know that he would have never made her his plant in the Bureau. A plant is someone dispensable. You don't put what is potentially your best asset in the hands of the enemy. Far too much danger of them turning," John declared, his face betraying how astonished he felt at Clyde’s obsession with you. Of all people, he’s had some experience in men who become unhealthily attached to you. It never ends well for them. "Not to mention the fact that you cannot possibly think very highly of me,” you continue from where John left off. “If you think my grand plan was to bide my time within a faction of the Bureau with minimal ties to core operations, wait four years to enter into a relationship with a Unit Chief, compared to whom, my clearance level is actually significantly higher,” you state, before turning to place a hand on Aaron’s arm. “No offense honey.”

Aaron barely conceals his amused snort at that, the smirk that had taken residence on his face ever since you flipped the tables on Easter, firmly in place. "That's true,” John agrees, and you can tell that he’s enjoying the return to your typical repartee that the two of you have always had. The one that most outsiders find intimidating to keep up with. “If you'd wanted to infiltrate the Bureau, that role in White Collar was much better suited.” "You’re right,” you nod. “And it would've taken me only a couple of months to get everything I need. Agent Barton would've been an easy mark. I'm just his type."

Aaron watches as Easter appears to regroup and the Director looks deep in thought as he works his way through the quick back and forth performance you and John had put forward. From the corner of his eye, he sees John lean in to you, hiding his mouth behind his hand as he whispers something into your ear. You lean back sharply, your face the picture of disbelief as you think through whatever it was that he’d said to you.

Clearing your throat, you nod towards Garcia. “Agent Garcia, could you please pull up the first case I ever logged? It would have been during the third month that I was a trainee.”

From the front of the room both McKinney and Easter’ brows furrow, along with the rest of theirs, wondering what you were getting at. It’s Morgan who voices what they were all thinking. “What does your first case logged have to do with this?”

Your eyes flit from Morgan to Easter, barely stopping at McKinney, before you wordlessly direct Garcia to proceed with pulling up the case. “My third month while I was a trainee, someone broke into my apartment. Nothing was taken, but I could tell that someone had been there, so I dusted for prints and logged it. I ran it against the system but it didn’t turn up with anything then. The thing is, trainees only have access to the domestic IAFIS database.”

At that, your eyes flash dangerously towards Easter and the implication of what you’re saying has Aaron’s hackles raised. Easter sits straighter, just the slightest bit tense as Garcia pulls up the case and then runs them against Easter’s fingerprints.

The blaring negative result for a match has your jaw tightening and Easter sporting a smug smile that Aaron truly can’t wait to have wiped off of his face forever.

You take a breath, knowing that running it against the entire system would take far too long. Eyes narrowed, you look towards Easter once more. “You don’t really like getting your hands dirty yourself, do you?” you muse, your voice low and contemplative as you appraise Easter’s reaction to your conjecture.

“Garcia, compare the prints against Eli Black, Harold Woodshire, and Stefan Dupont.”

Garcia starts to pull up the prints of the Interpol agents you’d provided, when McKinney jumps in. “Agent L/N, don’t you think you are perhaps being just a little paranoid?”

Garcia looks between you and McKinney, the two of you engaged in a standoff that he was unlikely to win.

“Run it,” you instruct, knowing that Garcia’s loyalty to you far outweighed anything that McKinney could say to her in that moment.

The entire room waits with bated breath as Garcia runs the prints against the names provided. It’s tense as Easter’s eyes flit nervously between the screen that Garcia had commandeered away from him, and both you and McKinney, still looking at one another, your gaze staunchly defiant.

The system blares, stopping at Eli Black – a 100% match. They all look to the screen and Aaron’s stomach clenches as they look at the face of the man who had beaten you and strapped you down in the video, his eyes just as pale and emotionless in his Interpol I.D. photograph as they’d been when he’d put his hands on you.

There’s a tight smile on your face, your eyes shifting away from McKinney’s without comment, fixed on Easter once more. “I didn’t actually go to law school, but we happen to have two lawyers in the room right now. Remind me,” you say, a quirk of your eyebrow in John’s direction, “what’s the fourth amendment, again?”

John has a dark smirk on his face as he realizes you’re finally giving him full permission to do whatever he wants to, and in that moment, Aaron can quite easily see how he had the highest conviction rate in the entire New York state D.A.’s office. “The Fourth Amendment strictly prohibits unreasonable searches and seizures,” he states, the forced calm of his voice just barely masking the thundering rage that was coming off of him in waves, his chest expanding as he sits at his full height, towering over the table.

“How much you want to bet, that wasn’t a sanctioned search?” you quip, mirroring his expression, your tone hinting that this wasn’t the first time the two of you had paired up to dress someone down in prime fashion.

“Easy enough to find out. All we’d have to do is pull up the logs on warrants,” John replies, his eyes locked on Easter, daring him to say or do anything to further paint himself into a corner.

There’s a beat while Clyde seems to process everything that had just happened. Absorb how the script had been flipped around on him. McKinney was looking at him with a great deal of concern and you know that Clyde can see it on the Director’s face as well – any credibility that Clyde might have had with him was quickly dissipating. The combination of that video and everything that had come forward, along with the lack of concrete proof and now this, had McKinney finally arriving at a decision regarding the validity of Clyde’s accusation. "Then why?” Clyde asks, sounding as though he couldn’t quite believe anything that had transpired. “Why would someone of your pedigree and connections ever deign to be a federal agent?”

You close your eyes for a moment, having put together the final piece that had always plagued you. You don’t have to guess at whether or not you’re right. You know you are.

“Because you knew. People like you, knew. You knew that he murdered Julian and you chose to look the other way. Pinning him for killing some kid didn’t matter to you. Not when you could potentially be the people to bring down him and his empire. Why settle? Because you knew, and the second he decided to turn on me, you’d let him get away with that too. Because I refused to be yet another casualty of my father’s greed.”

You can feel the tears glistening in your eyes and you’re quick to blink them away while Aaron finds your hand on the table and grasps it firmly in his, his thumb caressing your palm comfortingly. He hadn't known that you'd truly feared this level of retaliation from your father, and your desperation to get onto the team takes on a new layer of meaning for him.

You clear your throat before continuing, taking stock of every single person seated around that table that was here because of you. JJ, smiling at you kindly while throwing her dirtiest looks at Clyde. Spencer, who had chimed in repeatedly and who you knew was about to pester you about Math 55’s coursework endlessly afterwards – after all, there had been a reason you’d never told him about it. Rossi, smugly claiming you as his own, his gaze proud as can be. Penelope, who was still wordlessly apologizing for bringing up that video earlier, and who you knew was going to ruin those guys’ lives because of what they had done to you. Emily, who was glaring daggers at Clyde and likely planning out the various ways she could torture him right back. Derek, who would have your back in any situation, any circumstance, no matter what. Aaron, whose hand was warm against yours and who had let you handle this yourself because that was your guys’ agreement. At work, you were your own person and he would allow you to navigate and deal with everything by yourself, until you asked for his help. Aaron, who would go out of his way to do anything for you at home, who would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you were alright.

“Because, you’ve seen what this team does in order to protect our own. Joining them ensured that I couldn’t just disappear.”

*------------* There’s a long silence, during which all you’re really aware of is the seconds hand on the clock ticking away. Clyde isn’t looking at anyone. McKinney is switching between looking at you and Clyde both and you can feel him assessing everything said and shown. Weighing the proof or lack thereof. Thinking through the implications of Richards offering up the information on Clyde’s dismissal to you personally.

Beside you, Aaron has shifted and dragged your hand back with his, placing both in his lap so he can hold onto yours tighter. You can’t help but feel your heart tremble ever so much as his thumb drags itself back and forth over your palm, paying extra special attention to the deep indentations that have been left over the past couple of days, and especially the past half hour.

When you’d said that this team protects its own, what you’d really meant was Aaron. Of course the rest of them would protect you too, in a heartbeat. But Aaron protects differently. He does what needs to be done. Not what you ask him to do. Maybe at the time, you’d resented him for lying about Emily’s death. Over time, you’ve come to realize that he had done whatever needed to be done to make sure that she would be safe. He’d known the team would hate him for it and he’d done it anyways, because who cared if you were upset with him or not talking to him as long as it also meant that Emily was safe and alive.

To your other side, John has shifted so he’s leaning closer to you, his elbow on the arm of your chair, and you know that he – out of them all – had known how truly afraid you’d been in New York. How you’d lived in constant fear of your father finding out what you and him were doing and turning the full brunt of his fury towards you. You wouldn’t have survived that. Not then.

After a few more minutes, McKinney stands, and you know he’s arrived at a decision. “There remains the matter of the actual mole,” he states, bypassing any discussion on anything you or Clyde had said. With that one statement, he was declaring your innocence while electing to ignore everything else. You shouldn’t have expected any different from him. For him, all that mattered was ensuring the sanctity of the Bureau.

You squeeze Aaron’s hand before your hand away, back to the table, and with a nod at McKinney, turn to Clyde. “Where’s my locket?”

However, instead of Clyde, it’s Aaron who answers you. “I have it.”

You turn back towards him and watch as he shifts to bring out the chain and pendant from the inside pocket of his jacket and set it on the table in front of you gently.

Why Aaron had the locket instead of Clyde, was something you’d have to ask him later. For the time being, you focused on answering the Director’s question.

“When I was with Jansen, he revealed some details regarding the mole which were enough for me to create a preliminary profile,” you divulge, reaching and picking up the locket. “Rossi, can I see your wallet?”

Rossi gives you an odd look, but leans into his pants pocket and retrieves the wallet, tossing it to you from across the table.

You flip it open and search though, looking for the thick metal card, while everyone’s eyes are on you. When you find what you’re looking for, you fish it out.

“I just need to double check a couple of details, but if I’m not mistaken, I think I know who in the Bureau is the mole,” you say, as you latch the metal card into the bottom two prongs of the pendant, and with some leverage from the table, manage to flip them open.

Aaron looks at you and you mutter a quick Sorry, honey to him, before sliding the stone out of the setting to reveal a black memory card behind it.

Everyone watches as the memory card is taken out of the base of the pendant, having sat there behind the deep emerald stone, unbeknownst to them all. You slide it over to Garcia, who eagerly takes it off your hand.

“When we started looking at everyone on the project team for Atlantis,” you start again while Garcia is working on getting the information in the chip loaded to her computer, “we tracked financial statements primarily, to see who was receiving or had funds available to them which they shouldn’t.  Additionally, I did an assessment of assets  – mostly real estate and artwork – as that is often used to hide illegal assets. Most people checked out, others had some assets that were questionable but nothing that rose to the threshold that we were using for our assessment. However, during my conversation with Jansen, he told me that the mole in the Bureau was effective because he didn’t take monetary payment.”

“What kind of payment does he take?” McKinney asks curiously, now leaning in across the table. He’d seemed mildly taken aback when you’d broken the pendant to take out the microchip you’d hidden, and now that you were being forthcoming about your suspicions, seemed more than willing to listen to what you had to say.

Clyde sat sulking at the front.

You clear your throat, a grimace taking form as you recall your conversation with Jansen. “Apparently, little girls make for compelling payment.”

JJ has a sharp inhale and Garcia momentarily stops typing as your words sink in.

“Once Agent Garcia is able to fully read in the data, we can reassess the real estate holdings. We’ll be looking for property which could be used to easily conceal the presence of children.”

When Jansen had told you how his plant was paid, you’d had the bone chilling realization that your late night excursions over a month and a half ago had not been a mere coincidence. What you’d feared had come to fruition. The smell of smoke still lingers in your brain.

“Who do you think it is?” Rossi asks as you toss his wallet back to him.

“Alexander Pierce. He’s the only one that fits the profile of a child molester.”

McKinney appears beyond shocked. Pierce was at the level directly below him. He’s the favorite to take the reins of the entire Bureau in the upcoming decade. They’ve worked together for years and are at least friendly. Yet, he doesn’t question you. He doesn’t tell you that you might be wrong. Instead, he turns resolutely towards Rossi.

“Dave, due to the changed circumstances, I ask that you oversee the investigation and if warranted, subsequent arrest of Agent Pierce.”

Rossi nods, so McKinney continues as he sweeps up his files from the table and stands, buttoning his jacket as he does, effectively drawing your indictment to a close.

“Agent Easter, I will be speaking with the Interpol Director regarding your actions and composure on this assignment. I believe the three of us will have much to discuss together. Agent L/N, you have the entirety of the BAU, with Agent Rossi, to assist you in closing this out. Ideally, the two of us will sit down on Monday and discuss your role in all of this as well, beginning with the disclosure of classified information to outside parties without requisite clearance.”

You sigh internally, squeezing Aaron’s hand once more as he opens his mouth to likely speak up against McKinney still trying to read you the riot act. You’d expected as much. He wasn’t the type to let that slide – especially not with you rubbing his nose in Richards calling you directly.

"Yes sir," you nod.

Having said all he had to say, all of you watch as McKinney takes his leave with a sweep of the room, the door shutting behind him.

*------------*

In McKinney’s wake, everyone looks at Easter, who appears incredibly uncomfortable and looked to be assessing whether or not he was meant to stay. He seemed to have reached a conclusion, as he stands and makes his way towards the door.

“You know,” you speak up as Easter approaches the door, and Aaron watches as you break the man down with your gaze alone. “For someone who thinks I’m capable of any number of atrocious things, you sure didn’t seem to have a problem with pissing me off.”

Your words are said with a casual overtone as you remain seated, the perfect air of ease about you, designed to draw a rise out of Easter, who had one hand on the doorknob, having turned around at the sound of your voice.

At your words, he scoffs. “What is that supposed to be? A threat?” He raises an eyebrow at you and tilts back into his quietly assured self.

Your lips purse ever so slightly and your eyes flash, before your mouth widens into a smile. The kind of smile that would have grown men running for the hills. “No. That wasn’t a threat,” you clarify, shifting to sit up straight once again. “This is. You come near me or mine again, and you will find out exactly how much I learned from my father.”

Easter looks like he’s ready to dismiss your threats, rolling his eyes and turning around.

“Передай от меня привет Даниэлю.”

He turns sharply, his face paling at whatever you’d said to him. His eyes search yours for any doubt, any hesitation. He appears to have seen the staunch truth in them, as he only swallows, his Adam’s apple protruding, and if Aaron wasn’t mistaken there was a slight tremor in his hand as he once again opens the door, and this time, manages to exit the room.

You close your eyes, your shoulder slumping, a deep sigh workings its way through your body. When you open them, all eyes are on you.

“Pen, once the files are available, you’ll want to start with Pierce’s properties in the countryside,” you instruct softly. “Anderson is already watching him,” your eyes cut to Aaron and he realizes who that phone call you’d made earlier had been to. You had asked Anderson to go and watch Pierce while you dealt with Easter and McKinney, knowing you needed to reestablish your credibility with the Director before you could make any accusations of your own.

Garcia nods and the rest of them remain silent as you turn to Rossi. “Can I have twenty minutes?” you ask, the fullness of your voice hinting at just how exhausted you must be.

At Rossi’s nod, you push up from the table, and with a squeeze to John’s shoulder, make your way out of the room with Aaron at your heels. He knew to go with you. You didn’t have to ask. Not with him.

*------------*

As the team watches you and Hotch leave, Morgan turns to Emily, eyebrow raised. “That was Russian, wasn’t it?”

She nods, however Hawthorne also agrees with a quiet Yes.

At that, her eyebrows raised at him in some surprise. He was a New York State District Attorney. Language skills weren’t exactly a part of the job description. “You know Russian,” she asks, the lilt in her voice hinting at her surprise.

He chuckles, a smirk on his face as he looks up at her with those ocean blue eyes, amusement dancing in them. “Who do you think taught her?” All at once, Emily can entirely see how you and him had once worked so very well together. It had been clear since the moment they'd entered the room, Hawthorne wrapping you up in his arms. There was a quiet electricity to your interactions with him – a palpable connection which easily transcended everything else. There was a casual ease to your demeanor with Hawthorne that you and Hotch rarely allowed yourselves while at work, and Emily has to once again admire how well Hotch had maintained himself throughout the entirety of the meeting. He'd allowed you and Hawthorne the lead in retaliation against Clyde, knowing that drawing any additional attention to you and him wouldn't help your case. He'd bided his time, biting back any number of choice words he must've had for Clyde, letting you take the reins on it all, because it was your meeting, your case, your indictment. Anything she might have believed about Hotch when it came to him being controlling and overbearing had fallen apart, having witnessed exactly how well he took a backseat when it was important for you that he do so.

“So what did she say to Easter,” Rossi asks, drawing both of their attention away from one another.

Emily takes it upon herself, even though she had no idea what your words had actually meant. “Say hello to Daniel for me.”

“Who’s Daniel?” Morgan asks, his brow crinkling, gaze fixed on where you’d sat next to Hawthorne.

They both shrug.

“So um,” Garcia starts, shifting everyone’s attention to her as she looks hesitantly between Rossi and Morgan, who raises his appraising look at her next, compelling her to just spit it out.

“When John and I were looking into that other location – the one that burned down with the triple homicide – I saw that the same night, three kids were left outside the Philadelphia precinct. All three were young girls around eight to ten years old and they said they were being held somewhere by bad men.”

At Emily’s prompting, she continues, “The thing is, when asked how they got away, the kids said that they heard some fighting and then some lady came and got them and dropped them off near the police station. All of their descriptions of the person who saved them...they match Y/N.”

There’s a stunned silence before Morgan decides to speak up. “Baby girl, are you saying she took down three guys all by herself, snuck those kids out, and then burned the entire place down without leaving a single strand of DNA or anything else behind?”

Garcia shrugs, an uncertain expression on her face. However, they can all tell that that is exactly what she believes happened. “If anyone could…,” she trails off as they all look at one another before turning to face Rossi.

Rossi sighs, his face torn for a momentarily, before arriving at a decision. “Well, like you said, the Philadelphia police already called it a case of gang violence and shut it down. I don't suppose it is our place to go and create problems where none exist."

At his words, Emily meets Morgan and Hawthorne’s eyes, realizing that perhaps out of everyone in the world outside of herself, Hotch, and Morgan, Hawthorne was the one most likely to understand that you could and would do exactly that, and get away with it.

*------------*

You make your way down the stairs with Aaron at your side. You just needed twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. That was it. Aaron knows not to say anything. You don’t want to talk. Not then.

You make your way down to the locker rooms before you turn and speak. “You mentioned you’d brought my other bag.”

“Yeah, it’s in my locker,” he confirms, watching you with apprehensive, yet loving eyes.

There was no one else in the locker rooms owing to the lateness of the hour. With a quick look around, you begin to take off your shoes, undoing the buckles on the boots and toeing them off, before sliding the pants off of your hips and then quickly removing the sweatshirt along with the rest of your clothing.

Aaron is quick to shuck off his own clothes as you walk into the shower and turn it all the way to the left. He can already see the steam rising off of your skin when he slips in behind you, picking up the shampoo bottle from the ledge in the corner and dumping some out into his hands.

The hot water felt like baptism by fire, but it was the only thing helping you feel clean, as two days worth of dirt and grime slid off of you and swirled its way down the drain. You can feel Aaron behind you as his bare chest rubs against your back when he leans for the shampoo and then works it into suds in your hair, allowing you to simply be.

The slip and slide of his hands, as he takes soap and scrubs against your skin. His large hands gliding against your shoulders and back, down your legs, making sure to get every inch of you clean. You let him. You can feel the exhaustion seeping through you as your mind slips into a fog, leaving you aware only of the heat of the steam, the water, and him.

Once Aaron has ensured that you’re as clean as can be, he shifts so you’re fully under the stream, the last of the shampoo leaving your hair. That’s when you finally feel the weight in the pit of your stomach turn to lead.

You allow that steel trap to open ever so slightly as you lean back against him. The fact that he'd had to see you go through that, had to find out from a video of you being tortured, that you'd been pregnant and lost the baby. It was far too much for him to have gone through on his own. Your heart breaks at the thought of him sitting with the rest of them and watching that. Having them all find out at the same time as him, when he should've been the first and only one to know.

Your tears mingle with the water from the shower, your shoulders shake and your body quakes and slumps, held up by his arms alone, holding you tight across your chest and waist, tight to him as the sobs wrack your body. You can feel his lips against your shoulder as he dips his head down to slot his face against yours. He’s hard and warm and all around you, the only thing standing between you and total collapse.

*------------*

The two of you had gotten dressed slowly, taking far longer than the twenty minutes you’d asked Rossi for. Your eyes are red rimmed and glassy still, your hair falling to your shoulders in damp tendrils as you grasp his hand and the two of you make your way back upstairs using the elevators.

“There’s a chance McKinney still fires me,” you mumble, leaned against him and the back of the Elevator wall both to hold yourself up.

Aaron shakes his head, looking down at you with his warm brown eyes. “He isn’t going to fire you,” he insists, despite not fully believing it himself. He too had caught what McKinney had said to you prior to his departure.

You aren’t appeased by his words, but he hadn’t expected you to be. The elevator continues to climb back up the floors slowly. Right before it reaches its destination, you worm your way away from him and hit the emergency stop button, halting the elevator and plunging it into darkness.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, feeling his way around the elevator until he finds you again.

“If I’m getting fired on Monday,” you whisper, leaning up so your mouth is right against his ear, drawing a shiver through his entire body, “then there’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”

With that, your lips find his, insistent and soft, begging his open with your tongue running along the seam of his mouth. With a moan, he gives in, hands finding your waist and pulling you up further against him. He can feel the smile in your mouth, mixed with everything else – the fear and fury, the regret and pain undercutting everything else.

If this is what you wanted before you were potentially fired – then well, of course he’d give it to you.

*------------*

By the time the two of you make it back to the conference room, the team is well situated, with Rossi and Morgan engaged in conversation while the rest of them crowd around Garcia. John was in the corner, just getting off of a phone call and Reid had managed to find some pretzels it seemed like – or he merely always had them on him – because he was munching away, leading to Aaron becoming incredibly aware that none of them had eaten since that sandwich the day prior. Hell, he wasn’t sure when the last time you’d eaten at all. His eyes must’ve lingered on the pretzels for a while too long, because JJ had leaned into her bag and lobbed a package of chips towards him.

Aware of your return now, the team turns to you and Aaron, with John being the one to break the silence with a soft smile. “Mom says hi” he says quietly, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Aaron can see the flash of guilt in your eyes. "I'll call her," you promise. When you'd left John, he hadn't been the only one you'd left.

He smiles and nods. "She'd like that."

With a glance around, and with no one else saying anything else, he continues, his smile morphing into a wicked grin. "So, you and Hastings, huh?" His voice teasing in that manner that only truly good old friends can get away with.

"Matthew and I were on a break," you clarify primly, shoving at his arm. His grin remains unchanged, causing your eyes to narrow, before a realization seems to hit you as you groan and slump back into your chair. “Don’t tell me you and Julian had a bet on that too,” you grumble, though Aaron can tell you aren’t really annoyed. You’re merely playing along.

“I won, if you must know,” John grins wider. “Seeing as you’re his next of kin, you owe me twenty.”

You scoff. “This better be written down somewhere. I’m not signing off twenty thousand to you just because you said so.”

Behind John, Aaron can see Morgan and Garcia’s jaws drop as they realize that twenty dollar bets were not the norm in your circles. You played for much higher stakes. Always had.

“Oh you’ll get your proof,” John winks at Prentiss, hinting at some sort of inside joke between the two of them while you and him both settle in, you stealing some chips from the bag in his hands, before swiping the bag entirely with a sweet smile that he was in no condition to refuse, ever.

“Hey,” Prentiss asks, drawing your attention away from John, “who’s Daniel?”

Aaron watches as your face turns dark ever so slightly, your eyes hardening as you meet Prentiss’s gaze, and Aaron realizes that the quietly enunciated Danielyu that he’d caught when you’d spoken to Easter in Russian had meant something more.

“Mr. Have-No-Attachments has a son,” you tell her, your jaw tight.

They’re all quiet as your revelation sinks in. You’d brought up Easter’s son while –

“You threatened his kid?” JJ asks, slight surprise on her face as she looks at you, her eyes flashing with the concern that they all always had. Their children being dragged into danger because of their line of work.

“He threatened mine.” Your retort is quick and to the point and if Aaron was being honest, he really really didn’t care that you’d threatened a child at this moment, because you were right. He had threatened yours.

When no one says anything further, you nod at Rossi and then turn to Garcia. “Let’s get to work.”

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

When it rains - an Edgejeanist backstory

Ao3 link

As I have mentioned before I wanted to do a drawing for this eventually but it would take a lot of effort and I don’t have that in me right now so I’m gonna share it with you in the form of a rather long jumble of words instead :D it might be too long to read on tumblr because it kept on crashing the app when I worked on it so please feel free to read it over on ao3!

I wasn’t really happy with the drawing I did for the injury prompt so I’m posting this to make up for it lmao

If you have not read my Edgeshot backstory (well the summary that I did), I do recommend it because it may give some context as to what they’re talking about!

This was originally meant to be happy but it turned out kinda angsty (unsurprisingly)...but then I managed to make it not as angsty?? Anyway ->

Warning: a few times they talk about death, mentions of injury, self-doubt and generally quite sad stuff.

Also, it turned out incredibly long so imma stuff it all under the cut for those of you who don’t wanna read it :)

Hakamata Tsunagu wasn’t one to usually complain when sent on a mission, however on this particular stormy evening he really didn’t fancy the idea of being caught up in a case that wasn’t in his own area, simply because he was “passing by” trying to go home. But, he understood that this guy was quite the hassle and it would probably be best to sort it out as soon as possible. When he arrived to the area he could see that there were already many other heroes on the scene, including one of the higher ranking heroes - Edgeshot. They had met before and had worked together on various cases due to the two of them being known for rather rapidly climbing up the ranks, not to mention that their ranks were neighbouring and often would over take one another. So they knew each other, to some extent. He walked over to where the ninja hero was standing to ask him about the details of the villain they were going against.

“Fire-type quirk, troublesome. Had many sidekicks aiding him in an armed robbery. We’ve managed to apprehend most of the smaller accomplices, however this guy’s a pain, so I was told to wait for you to arrive in order to end this quickly.” The fiber hero hadn’t even said a word and had already gotten his answer.

“I see. I guess we should probably get to it then, as he seems to have his eye on escape.” Jeanist swiftly responded as he went on to restrict the villain’s clothes to prevent him from moving any further. Luckily, the area had been cleared out and the other villains had been carted away by the other heroes that were in the scene, so the only ones left in the area were the two of them, and this maniac.

The air around the two pros started to heat up and before they could act, flames burst from the open air around them causing them both to flinch and Jeanist to lose his focus. The villain started to sprint away from the scene but Edgeshot was one step ahead of him. The hero had rushed over and the two had started to engage in a fight, and the villain had no problem with using his quirk to aid in this. Jeanist tried to drag the villain back to the open space using the denim threads of his own clothing and had managed to grab hold of him, however, the two were unaware of what the man was carrying. He was taken back when a cold, sharp object came flying towards him, cutting through the high collar of his hero costume and through the skin of his ear and cheek - causing him to curse quite audibly.

“Watch it!” The silver haired hero hissed as he took another swing at the walking flamethrower, now also knife-thrower apparently, in front of him.

“My apologies,” mumbled the lanky blond as he regained his posture once more and continued to restrain the armed robber.

The other hero hesitated for a moment. “Ah- wait no, sorry, I meant uh- I meant the other guy, not you sorry.. you just got a knife thrown at you why would I yell at you?” They hadn’t properly spoken before so Shinya really didn’t want to give him the wrong impression of himself, especially since it was someone he kind of admired and...uh well...yeah. The two shared a rather awkward apologetic glance as they tried to come up with something to say but were rather rudely interrupted when-

“Oh for THE LOVE OF-” the villain angrily snapped around, “YOU TWO ARE REALLY DOIN’ MY HEAD IN! WOULD’YA GIVE IT A REST? OR AT LEAST JUST. SHUT. UP.” The heroes barely had time to react when the villain set his whole body and the air around it on fire. The flames engulfed the two who were previously fighting each other and briskly travelled along the threads that were restricting the man from escaping, and towards a startled Jeanist. The fire had reached the fiber heroes arm at this point and was obviously going to spread further if it weren’t for him removing that part of his sleeve, only shortly after the ninja hero had speedily shot forwards and cut through the fiber that connected Jeanist and the villain, his own arm very much ablaze. However, he didn’t look too concerned for his own injury as he eyed the taller man’s scorched arm.

The two heroes were now starting to get rather tired. Not because they were weak, or this guy strong, but just because they wanted to go home. They’d really had enough at this point and really wanted to just end this before the weather got any worse, but this stupid lunatic just wouldn’t give in! Maybe it was the fact that they had never really fought alongside each other before, so were holding back the more powerful, more dangerous side of their quirks - in case a mistake would be made that could injure the other. That was probably why it took so long.

After many more painfully long minutes, they had managed to wear down the robber enough to get close enough to knock him out. Tying him up, the two heroes handed the unconscious villain over to the police that had just arrived to help clear up the scene of any passer-by’s. At this point, it was the late evening and already rather dark and gloomy, the sky let out a large growl as if to warn that it would only get worse...and well, it’s point was proven as it started to rain.

The blond hero sighed and glanced up at the sky in dismay, realising that all that paperwork wasn’t going to get done by itself, and grumbling at the fact that he still had to get back home - which was going to be a real pain in this weather. He wasn’t a huge fan of the rain, especially with that denim hero costume of his, but he decided to ignore all of that and started making his way towards the train station, hoping to get home before the weather becomes too bad. Edgeshot noticed the other hero’s intent to go home and looked back up at the sky. No chance. That weather was way worse than Jeanist thought it was and he knew that by the time the other man reached the train station, there would be an unbelievable length of time before he would be able to get to where he wanted to go - not to mention how busy it would be. Taking a moment to think things through, he decided to chase after the lanky hero and called out to him, suggesting a better idea.

“I wouldn’t take the train right now if I were you,” Shinya advised the tall figure in front of him.

Tsunagu was confused, he wanted to get home and that was currently his only means of transport. “Why? What’s wrong? Please tell me there’s not another villain to deal with...” he murmured. Oh he really hoped that wasn’t the case, because there’s no way he could fight in this storm - especially with all these new burns, they may have been small but wow they hurt like hell! He looked down at the shorter man in front of him, weary of the answer he may receive but felt an odd sense of relief when he saw him let out a light chuckle. Or was it cough? Maybe a sigh? How would he know - that man was as mysterious as they get!

“Ah no, that’s not it.” Shinya couldn’t help but feel amused by Tsunagu’s response. The rain was soaking into his costume and was making it a little harder to breathe through his mask, so he tried his best not to laugh. “It’s just that this storm isn’t going to be easing anytime soon, and I feel that it’s only going to get worse - there’s no chance that transport will be easy, especially not for a hero in such a state as yourself.”

“Oh...I hadn’t thought of that,” Tsunagu replied, “do you...have any suggestions as to what I should do instead?” He understood what the other was saying, he had quite a few burns and a large gash across the side of his face - there’s no way that people wouldn’t notice that - but he really did want to get out of this miserable rain. So where could he possibly go, if not straight home?

“Yes, actually, that’s what I was wanting to talk to you about.” Shinya shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure as to how he should phrase his next question. “Um...well...my...my house- I mean, do you want to stay at my place? Until the storm blows over-” he stopped himself mid-sentence. That did not come out the way he heard it in his head, and why did he panic?

“Pardon?”

“Sorry, I-” Oh. Right. He probably didn’t understand that rushed mumble of his. Thank god, Shinya could have another go at mending his failed attempt at a suggestion. “Ah...my house isn’t far from here, it doesn’t take that long to walk there. And, well, I just wanted to suggest that you come with me. Those injuries could do with tending to, and with this storm getting worse, I just thought that it might be of help to you to stay at mine until the storm passes. Only if you’d be willing of course- It’s simply a suggestion I thought might be easier than you staying in this rain.”

“Oh. I see. That’s...thoughtful...I- are you sure?” Tsunagu was taken aback, but was definitely not opposed to the idea of getting out of the rain.

“Yes, of course. If you are okay with accompanying me?”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“...thank you”

Shinya glanced up at the taller figure in front of him and smiled. Not that you could really tell.

They both decided it would be best to stay somewhere warm, get patched up, and wait for the weather to relax. So, off they went, away from the scene that had just been up in flames - now basically back to normal - and toward wherever this mysterious little ninja’s home was.

————————————————————

After a while of walking through heavy rain, dodging leaves as they zoomed past on the wind of the winding path, and silently accompanying each other with minimal words between them, they finally reached Shinya’s house. Not in the middle of nowhere, but also not near any busy city noise. It was peaceful, well, as peaceful as it could be in a raging storm.

Shinya fumbled at the door handle with numb fingers, as he attempted to unlock it as quickly as possible. The door opened with a small click and was gently pushed open. He gestured for the taller man to enter and closed the door after them, relieving them from the cold wind. As soon as they were both inside, they shared a long sigh of relief - ahhh....warmth...

“Sorry, it isn’t much,” Shinya said as he set down his bags and rain soaked hero gear, “I’m the only one that lives here, so I never really thought about how small it was. But now that someone else is here with me...”

“Haha it’s fine! Lovely, even, I think it’s quite sweet.” Tsunagu chuckled, placing his heavy and rather soggy denim coat gently to the side. He’d always liked the more traditional style houses, they had this comforting feeling to them that he couldn’t quite describe. “How long have you had this place?”

Shinya smiled and led Tsunagu towards the living room, they could do with a sit down after all that walking. “It was my Gran’s, well, she wasn’t really my Gran but that’s what we called her. She took us in and looked after us - my sister and I - and after she died we kept this place. Eventually, my sister moved out to be nearer the main city, but I thought it best to stay. I’m comfortable here, you know what I mean?”

“Of course,” Tsunagu nodded, “I think it’s wonderful.”

“Thanks...”

Shinya looked up, watching as droplets of water dripped from the other’s droopy fringe, his own hair now clinging to the side of his face. They both still had their faces masked and breathing through damp fabric probably wouldn’t be very good for their health. As Shinya noticed this, he let out a startled noise that took Tsunagu by surprise.

“AH!”

“What? What happened? Is something wrong?”

“No, I just realised, we’re still stuck in our costumes. They’re soaked! It’s probably best if we get cleaned up before anything else...” Shinya exclaimed.

“Oh, right.” Tsunagu replied quietly. He’d actually forgotten about the rain, which was weird because normally he’d be grumbling about it louder than the storm itself!

“There’s a spare bathroom downstairs, just to the left of the kitchen. It’s quite small but works just as well.” Shinya handed Tsunagu a towel and some spare clothes, looking a little hesitant as he did so. “I had some spare clothes lying around, though I’m sorry they probably won’t fit you very well...you’re very tall compared to me...” Shinya muttered sheepishly.

Tsunagu chuckled at the shorter man’s rather obvious remark and folded the fabric that was now in his own hands. “That’s very kind of you, thank you. It’s okay, I’m sure I’ll be able to adjust it to fit well enough.”

“Oh, of course, that’s- you can do that can’t you...I kinda forgot about that.” Shinya felt even more embarrassed from that, but managed to brush it off as he looked back up at the rather amused figure in front of him. “Well anyway, I’ll be cleaning myself up upstairs and preparing the things we need to tidy up those troublesome injuries of yours-”

“And yours I hope.” Tsunagu briefly interrupted.

“O-of course,” Shinya stuttered a reply. He’d actually somehow forgotten about his own injuries, too caught up in the company of another for once. “Well, if you should need anything, please just call me, I’ll be down as soon as I’m finished- oh and don’t feel the need to rush, take as long as you need.”

“Thank you.”

Tsunagu watched as the other left the room before making his way towards the bathroom. It was quite a small room. He made sure the door was securely locked before peeling away his sodden hero costume, piece by piece.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he noticed how deep of a cut it was that ran across his left cheek and over his ear. The rain had washed away most of the blood but it was still quite the nasty injury. He grimaced. ‘That’s gonna leave a bit of a scar...’ he thought to himself. Oh well, just another one to add to his growing collection of them. Although, he suddenly realised something. He’d have to show his face. And what about Shinya? Didn’t he always cover his face as well? Would they really be able to trust each other enough to show their faces to one another - even though they barely knew each other?

He felt himself freeze as he thought about it. They were both known for masking their faces, but the idea of showing his face had always made him feel uneasy. Little did he know that about five minutes prior, Shinya had the same nerve-wracking revelation and was feeling just as conflicted as he was. ‘Stop it, dammit,’ Tsunagu frowned, ‘he’s been so kind and nice to you, I doubt there’s anything to worry about...’

He shook his head and brushed these worries aside before stepping into the running shower. Oh wow, that felt nice. The water flowed over his shuddering body and embraced him in a warm blanket of comfort. Though, it did sting a bit when it seeped into the crevices of the gash on his face, and over the burns on his arms. However, he didn’t mind. He was used to these kinds of small pains and, though he’d be ashamed to admit it, he found it oddly comforting.

At the same time, Shinya was preparing a first aid kit, disinfectant and some warm damp cloths (he, luckily, knew what he was doing. Even if I don’t lol). He’d already managed to clean himself up and had changed into some older, plain clothes - so fast, but as expected from someone as stealthy as himself! Humming quietly to himself, he listened as the sky let out another loud grumble. “Why are you so angry today!?” He chuckled at the noise the raging storm made as he tidied up, “you’re doing this on purpose aren’t you! You always seem to pick ever so specific times to conjur up a storm...is it because I seemed lonely? You want me to make a friend or something?”

The sky growled again and Shinya took that as his response. He’d always found himself talking to the nature around him when he was alone, it had just become a habit of his - he found comfort and company from doing so...and it always seemed to have a way of replying. He was a bit anxious at the thought of showing his face to another, but had managed to push away his concerns as best he can. ‘What else is there to be worried about, Shinya?’ He thought to himself. ‘He’s already in your house. So in terms of his knowledge about you now, you’d basically already be screwed! He knows where you live, so I don’t think that showing your face would be that bad. Plus he’s a hero, isn’t he? Not to mention he’s trusting you with his own identity too...it’ll be fine...’

He sighed and clutched his stinging, scorched arm. Glancing at the rain that danced its way down the cold glass of his bedroom window, he headed back downstairs to give company to his guest who was just as battered and tired as he was.

Shinya set the items he had prepared, down on the small coffee table and walked to the kitchen to grab some hot water. As he stood there, he heard the bathroom door click and turned to see it open ever so slightly. “You’re done? I’ve prepared some stuff to bandage up our injuries and disinfect that nasty cut of yours,” he called out.

“Ah, yes. Thank you,” Tsunagu replied from behind the door.

“...uhm...would you like me to go and wait-”

“Oh! No, there’s no need, sorry...” Tsunagu blurted out as fast as he could. “It’s just...well...I...” he trailed off. ‘It’s never been easy, will he understand that?’

“Don’t worry, I understand. But I guess that with it being just the two of us here... can we say that we may fully trust one another?”

Tsunagu let out a small sigh of relief, before nudging the door open further and emerging from behind it. Making eye contact with the smaller figure in front of him, he smiled gently as he allowed the other to view his face. Shinya doing the same in return. “I guess so.”

Shinya locked eyes with the man that stood in front of him. Wow. He...did not look anything like how he expected...not that he really knew what he expected. Damp, blond hair was messily ruffled across the top of the taller man’s head. He’d managed to make the spare clothes fit well enough to make it look as if they could possibly be his own, though they were still awfully short. They suited him well, actually, and Shinya felt himself stare a little at this gangly noodle in front of him. Why did he look good in those clothes? Hell, they’re old and rather tatty and are way too small for him, and yet he still manages to look like a freaking model in them! And to top it off, they were just some clothes that Shinya owned, that happened to be the longest things he could find! He was unsure of why, but the sight in front of him definitely made him feel rather “odd” (in his own words) - though he didn’t really know what that was.

There were so many things about him in that moment that seemed so out of character for “best jeanist” but what really caught his eye were his scars. Ignoring the large cut on his cheek, Shinya traced his eyes over the bottom half of Tsunagu’s face in a shared silence. Large scars ran from just above his chin, and down to his neck. Some ran over his lips, which had formerly been pressed together to form a small smile, but were now separated slightly in a shocked manner. Noticing where he was staring, Shinya felt his face heat up as he quickly averted his eyes and looked down at the kettle that he was clutching (he went to go boil some water, but had gotten distracted before he could actually put the kettle on). ‘What on earth are you doing, Shinya!? I mean he’s really pretty, sure, but you can’t just stare omg-’ he lectured himself as his face progressively got more unnaturally warm, ‘those scars though....whatever caused those couldn’t of been a small accident...’

Concurrently, Tsunagu was completely stunned. ‘Pretty...’ was the only thought that circulated around his mind for many long seconds. Not only was this man incredibly considerate and mysterious, he was also very pretty and wow did that make Tsunagu’s face redden like an overheated saucepan. He took in his sharp features with observant eyes. Shinya’s hair was no longer fashioned into spiky points, but was now pulled up into a high ponytail. He still had that long fringe covering his right eye, but instead of seeming blocky, it was now loose and soft - and oh wow was Tsunagu really resisting the urge to pat it - though it still looked to be quite sharp, as if you could cut your fingers on the edge of each strand. Tearing his focus away from the shorter man’s hair, he found himself softly staring at Shinya’s face. Though his first thought may have been about how pretty he was, he couldn’t help but notice the other’s scars. Yes, he had quite a few. They were mostly quite small and would go unnoticed by some, but there was one that stood out. A long scar, in the shape of a large gash just like the majority of his own, ran down from just under the corner of the uncovered side of Shinya’s mouth, and down to the middle of his neck. ‘What an idiot.’ Tsunagu thought to himself. ‘You were so busy worrying about showing your own face to even think that he’d be worried about the same thing...it’s...oddly comforting to see another that hides them...even though its not something I should probably be comforted about, since it means that there’s most possibly a painful story behind them...just like my own.’

After a couple of minutes of a shared, awkward silence, Shinya started the conversation back up again with a few stuttering words exchanged between them and nervous laughter. “Ah...um...I guess we should probably...you know...”

“Aha yeah, sorry...” Tsunagu rubbed the back of his neck, “the...uh...you...you forgot the hot water...”

“Oh! Yeah...sorry about that! Um, please, go and sit down. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Tsunagu made his way to the living room and sat down, his mind still curious about all these new discoveries. The pain in his cheek had started to sting even more than before and he was really wishing that he didn’t have to deal with that right now. Letting out a shaky sigh, he reached up to grab it in a hope to ease the pain slightly, but his burnt arm got caught on the edge of the sofa, causing him to let out a distressed grunt.

“Are you okay?” Shinya asked from just beside where the taller man was seated. Tsunagu was quite startled by the other, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“Ah, it’s just this stupid cut. It’ll probably be better once it’s been treated,” Tsunagu brushed it off, still rather confused by the speed of which the other man seemed to appear without being noticed.

“I see. Well, everything has been prepared so we should probably take care of that first.” Shinya smiled and took a seat next to the other man, gently picking up a cotton swab and dipping it in disinfectant. “The cut just has to be disinfected before anything else though, who knows what else that bastard had been doing-”

“Haha! You’re approaching this just like a proper doctor! So serious and everything,” Tsunagu laughed.

This made Shinya chuckle in response. “Well, I do like to think that I know a bit about what I’m doing!”

They laughed together for a couple of minutes and the tension between the two of them started to dissipate. Tsunagu eyed the cotton swab in Shinya’s hand and realised, how on earth was he gonna do that himself? Well, I think we all know that the answer is he wasn’t. Even he came to that conclusion, as he exchanged funny words with the man in front of him. Shinya knew this, and decided that it was time to tend to the lanky blond’s wounds.

“Do you trust me?” Shinya slyly asked.

“Huh?”

“Do you trust me?”

Tsunagu was hesitant to answer, not because he didn’t trust him, but because he had a feeling as to what was going to happen. “...yes...”

Without missing a beat, Shinya leaned forward and pressed the cold, disinfectant-soaked cotton pad against Jeanists cheek. This caused Tsunagu to scrunch up his face and let out a tiny screech from the shock - it stung like hell - and he was not prepared. “Wrong answer!” Shinya chuckled. He was a little unsure whether he was actually going to do that or not, but knew that it would only hurt more if the other man had to slowly and hesitantly do it himself...plus he actually knew what he was doing.

“Argh! You- you’re evil you know that?” Tsunagu yelped and sat upright, trying to get used to the sting of the disinfectant that was seeping into his cut.

“I try my best,” Shinya hummed as he held the taller mans face, tilting it slightly upwards to better see the injury in the light. Whilst doing so, he noticed how many scars were littered across his face, and felt a little sad at the sight of them. ‘There’s so many...I didn’t really notice before, but now, seeing them up close...these all feel like painful memories. And no matter how much I understand his reasons for hiding them, I cannot help but wonder what on earth happened to him...’

Tsunagu held his breath, wincing every once in a while as the smaller man dabbed the gash on his cheek. He was so close! Not only that, but he was holding his face and wow, did he look like an angel as the light illuminated him from above. He felt the tops of his ears redden as he let out a small breath. As Shinya held his face close to his own, Tsunagu noticed things that he hadn’t spotted before, and made him even more curious than before. Like the front tooth that was slightly chipped, that he could see when the other’s mouth twitched open everytime he dabbed at his cheek. Or, the two rather odd but beautiful tattoos that were wrapped around his two wrists. ‘So much to take in, I didn’t really notice it before, but all these things are so unique and different. His face looks so soft....and pretty....But I truly do wonder what could’ve happened to cause that.’

“Your scar-” Tsunagu mumbled before quickly cutting himself off. ‘Tsunagu, you idiot! You weren’t supposed to just blurt that out...I guess there’s no other option than to just ask now you stupid- stupid, ugh!’

“Hm?” Shinya locked eyes with the other in a distracted confusion, before getting embarrassed and quickly looking back down.

Tsunagu stuttered as he tried to find the right words to say. “O-oh, well...I, uh...Sorry, I was just curious about your scar. It’s just- I, well...wondered-”

“How I got it?” Shinya interrupted quietly, almost in a rather hushed tone.

“Ah. Yes. Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy, it was simply a curious thought.”

“No, it’s alright, it’s okay. It seems both our curiosities lay in the same area of thought.” Shinya smiled softly, lowering the cotton swab and throwing it in the bin. As he went to pick up the thread (you know, the one they use to stitch up these wounds) Tsunagu placed his hand on his arm and stopped him from doing anything else. Shinya handed the thread to Jeanist and watched as the blond man slowly and carefully stitched up his now clean wound in one gentle swoop of his hand - though it did look quite painful by the look on his face. “Woah!” Shinya exclaimed in awe. He often forgot about the beautifully handy and elegant things that the other man could do with his quirk. This caused Tsunagu’s ears to redden even further.

Shinya let out a deep sigh and sat back slightly to take a rest for a moment. “Ah, where do I start? You said you were curious about my scar, but I’m sorry to tell you that this isn’t any light-hearted story...” he started, scratching the back of his neck and wincing as the burnt skin on his arm brushed against the fabric of the sofa.

“Sorry, you don’t have to...”

“No, it’s alright! To be honest, I think it would actually do some good to tell someone for a change...because, for once I feel that I can trust someone, and that’s a weird thing...” he muttered the last part under his breath so that the kind man next to him wouldn’t hear it. Tsunagu simply smiled in response, looking down as he acknowledged the smaller man’s courage to reveal a very clearly painful memory.

“Uhm, well, are you...are you aware of the small band of mountainside villages down south?” Shinya asked, “if I’m correct in thinking that you are a couple of years older than me...”

“Pffft- did you just call me old?” Tsunagu snorted.

“No! Of course not!” Shinya quickly defended himself. “It’s just that, you are around my age, so I was just wondering whether you’d know of it or not.” He smiled sheepishly as he watched the other’s amused face turn into one that was more focused.

The older man hummed quietly. “Yes, I think I know which villages you are talking about. My mother used to take us there every year when my father was off of work, to go and watch the yearly festivals. Oh, and to visit the market! They had some amazing tomatoes!” Shinya laughed at this little comment. They truly were some good tomatoes, though he preferred the strawberries that they’d grow there. “But...we...we stopped visiting when...” Tsunagu trailed off with a frown and looked back up at Shinya, noticing the distant smile that was faintly spread across his face.

“Then, you know what happened...you know what happened all those years ago?” Shinya questioned quietly as he reached for the bandages that were tangled in the basket. But, doing so only made his arm quiver in pain even more.

“Ah, please, let me do that,” Tsunagu insisted, reaching out for the bandages and using his quirk to gently and swiftly untangle them. He gave Shinya a reassuring look and gently took his arm, starting to wrap it very carefully. “Yes. I was around...13? Yeah, I think I was about 13 when it happened. It was all over the news, I don’t think I could ever forget it. It...was so awful, just hearing what happened...” he had a rough idea as to what Shinya was going to tell him, and it made his heart sink at the thought of it.

The sky let out another huge growl, and a streak of lightning flashed past the window, causing Tsunagu to flinch. Shinya didn’t move a muscle, but simply carried on with what he was doing.

“Hm.” Shinya felt his face warm up slightly as the taller man held his arm softly. ‘So gentle’ he made himself blush even more, but shook these thoughts away before continuing with what he was saying. “I guess it’s kind of obvious then, what I’m about to say I mean.”

“I...I don’t want to immediately assume what happened, but if what I think is true...”

“Yeah.” Shinya sighed. “It was my home. I’d lived there all my life until that day...they...they took everything from me...”

Tsunagu stopped wrapping the other’s arm and looked up, their faces merely inches away, taking in the broken sadness in his eyes and allowing it to drown his heart even further into the pit that it had sunk into.

“Everyone I knew, my friends, my family, everyone, they all died in front of me. There was nothing I could do to stop it... I was the only one that survived...just me...a small, defenceless, 10 year old child. I grew up as part of a family that was renowned for protecting their people, yet I couldn’t even protect my own innocence...my...my own mother...” Shinya’s voice started to get weaker and smaller as all of the memories started flooding back.

Tsunagu could do nothing but listen in shock. This was a lot to take in, and Shinya was trusting him enough to tell him something this personal. It pained him, watching the small ninja’s face contort into a broken frown. “...I’m sorry...”

His voice made Shinya snap back to reality and look him in the eye, confused. “What for? There isn’t anything for you to be sorry for...”

“No, I mean, making you have to think back on a memory that painful...it must’ve been horrible.” Tsunagu finished wrapping the other’s arm and let go of it slowly, hands still slightly lingering over the injured area.

Shinya sighed. He couldn’t disagree with that, it truly was the most painful memory he could imagine. Tucking his silver hair behind his ear, he reached up and touched the scar on his chin. “This was from that day. The people who ambushed us tried to attack me. They had stolen my own grandfather’s sword and managed to just catch my face as my mother whisked me away. It hurt, but I didn’t really notice it until later on...which...well...it’s not like they survived either...”

“Oh dear.” Tsunagu muttered, his face and arm still stinging. The wind picked up and rattled against the window, startling him again.

“I guess you’re wondering what these are as well,” Shinya gestured towards the intricate patterns that were inked into his wrists. “My family was part of that village for many generations. Over these generations, the Kamihara name became rather well known as a family of protectors and guardians. When my family died, I felt like I had lost all my connections to being a ‘Kamihara’ and so I decided to get these tattoos.”

He lifted his left arm, “this represents my father’s side of the family, the Kamihara name.” Then proceeding to point at the other arm, he explained the rest. “This represents my mother’s side of the family, always one with nature. I find that it’s a comforting way to keep them with me at all times, even if they’re not really there. It means that I can keep them safe, and in return they keep me safe too.”

“Wow...I think they’re beautiful!” Tsunagu breathed. They really were. The patterns were so small and intricate yet they held so much meaning and story...just like Shinya himself. “That’s- quite the tragic past...”

“Hm. Well, that’s what happened really...not all of it, but I think it’s best if that is shared some other day.” Shinya plucked the bandages out of the lanky blond’s hands and gestured towards his arms, waiting patiently as the other hesitatantly held out his own scorched arm. He looked back up at Tsunagu’s face and, out of some sort of instinct, reached up and gently touched the long scars on his face, deep in thought. After a very brief moment of...whatever that awkwardness was, Shinya snapped his head down to look back at his hands and Tsunagu averted his eyes in a nervous manner, both turning much redder than they had been before. “A-ah, I’m sorry!” Shinya immediately blurted out.

“No, it’s- it’s okay...” Tsunagu managed to stutter out. Blimey, that was awkward, why did his face feel so hot?

Once they had both managed to laugh it off, Shinya decided to return the same curious question that had been on both of their minds. “So...your scars...how did you get yours?”

Tsunagu froze. He knew it would come up in the conversation at some point, but he still had that reaction whenever someone asked. Shinya noticed this, and panicked a little, “Sorry! You don’t have to-”

“No no, it’s only fitting for you to ask the same question...and I think it’s best you know, since you shared your own story with me.” The anxious Jeanist interrupted. “But, I must ask you not to think ill of me after hearing this, nor should you feel the need to keep me here...I’m...it’s just...I-”

“It’s alright,” Shinya reassured him, “I’m not gonna kick you out of my house, just because of your past...you...didn’t judge mine.”

“Heh,” Tsunagu smiled and watched as the small ninja bandaged up his arm delicately. “Well, it’s not a happy story either, I’m afraid!”

“Guess that makes the both of us!” Shinya let out a light chuckle.

“Yeah...” He paused. These memories still scared him. “When...when my quirk activated, I didn’t know how to control it, like most children. The only thing is, both my sister and I had our quirks activate at the same time, being twins and all this was expected. This, however, just made things worse. I was...I was wearing a scarf at the time, and, well basically...to put it simply, I strangled myself.” He looked up, realising how stupid that sounded.

“Oh! That’s awful, though I’m sure it was probably much more traumatic at the time,” Shinya smiled sympathetically. “I can’t really say the same for my own rather embarrassing quirk discovery....”

“Well that sounds like a story I’d love to hear!”

“Oh, I’m sure!” Shinya laughed and cut the bandage carefully, tying the ends around the other’s slender arm and making sure that everything was secured nicely. “So, was it that which caused those scars on your face? That sounds horrible.”

“Ah,” Tsunagu shifted his eyes in thought, “not exactly...you see, there was an accident later on in my childhood...and...well, it did a lot of damage...” he trailed off, “not only to myself...”

A loud clap of thunder startled them both, and Shinya darted his eyes up to see Tsunagu looking down at him with a solemn face. ‘Whatever happened, that doesn’t sound good...in any context...’ he thought, choosing not to interrupt the taller man.

“It was a villain attack that burst out in the middle of the street. My family just happened to be passing by, but there was this loud scream and I turned around just in time to see that this villain had taken a young girl, about my age at the time, and was planning on taking the rest of her friends too.” Tsunagu paused again, he wasn’t sure how to word this, he never knew how to say it. But this time, it seemed a lot easier. “Before I knew it, and well this is quite typical isn’t it, I found myself in the middle of it all, unable to breathe or move. There was...blood everywhere...pieces of fabric were piercing my body, strangling me, completely littering the area. I- I remember, just, hearing my sister screaming...the pain I felt...she had to go through it all...but I couldn’t do anything, the heroes couldn’t get near me.”

Shinya sat there, stunned from this information, unable to form words. It sounded like such an awful situation to be in, even from his own point of view. He watched as the blond man shifted in his seat and turned to lean back more comfortably with a sigh, unsure of what he should say. However, he thought that it would be best to allow Tsunagu to continue.

Tsunagu felt his chest tighten at the memory of what happened, but still carrying on. It felt nice to talk to someone about it for once. “I had managed to very seriously injure my neck and face, unable to breathe, especially from the panic that I felt. I thought that was the worst part...it really wasn’t.” Tsunagu looked up cautiously at Shinya, wanting to say something but too scared to go further. Shinya saw this and placed a small hand on his shoulder, trying to think of words to say.

“I’m sorry, I can’t say much in terms of comfort. But, whatever it is, please know that I’ll listen no matter what.” He gave a small smile. Despite the fact that they hadn’t really talked before this, he already felt that he could trust him, and wanted the other to feel the same way. He’d made many mistakes in the past, and had done things that had weighed down on him all the way through his life, so knowing that Tsunagu probably had the same thoughts towards whatever it was that happened to him.

Tsunagu felt relieved. No one had ever said those words to him before, and for once he felt that he wasn’t alone. And he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel like crying. He nodded slowly and took a deep breath before carrying on, “...well...I- I looked up to see the villain in front of me...he wasn’t breathing, he’d been caught up in the strands that I’d sent flying and...I...he...he didn’t survive...I killed him. Just a small, scared 12 year old child, yet I’d managed to kill a man in a moment of pure terror. I- I think it was how angry I felt that someone was being that bad, I don’t know...but whatever it was, I couldn’t stop it, and the fear from that day has haunted me ever since.”

Shinya was shocked, he had a feeling that something like that must’ve happened, but it was still not something he’d been expecting or hoping to hear. Though, he’d experienced the same kind of shock himself, so he knew that it wasn’t something to be taken lightly. “I...poor child...that’s not something that someone should go through...I know from experience as well...”

“Wh- really?”

“Yeah. Those villains that ambushed my village. In a moment of blind rage I had managed to rid of them entirely, completely unaware of what I did. So, I guess, we aren’t too different, huh?”

“Wow...yeah...look at us, just a couple of very traumatised, depressed and barely capable adults, trying to make a living out of helping others...heh.” Tsunagu remarked, making Shinya chuckle in agreement, his mind easing more and more. “Y’know, I got bullied a lot, trying to become a hero. My quirk was ‘not suitable’ for it and I was ‘weak’. The more they said it the more I believed them, and well, knowing what I had done and knowing that I’d not been able to save that man who was simply going down the wrong path...I really did feel weak. Ever since, I’ve just buried myself in my work, trying to give myself a reason to feel ‘strong’, taking on as many cases as I can even if I know that I can’t do them alone...and well these moments have caused me to make some...stupid...decisions in the past, and, well they’ve all left their mark on me quite prominently.”

Shinya’s eyes softened as he heard the other man spill all of these worries that he’d been hiding for so long. “Oh...poor Hakamata-senpai...” he said with a slightly saddened look.

“Ah, it’s alright. To be honest, I don’t think I’d be where I am now without their bitter words and mean, pain-inflicting prompts. Also, please, ‘Tsunagu’ is just fine!” He normally didn’t mind the formalities, but for some reason when the small ninja sitting beside him used them, it made him feel odd.

“Oh, okay.” Shinya’s face heated up slightly at the thought of using the other’s first name to address him, he wasn’t used to that. “So, I guess we both have kinda...depressing backstories...to our scars and ourselves in general.” (You may not be able to see it but eclair is currently smiling very gleefully)

“Yeah,” Tsunagu glanced at the rain dancing down the window, “I guess so.”

————————————————————

After a long time of exchanging funny stories (well, they aren’t funny at all really, they’re either sad memories or quite self-deprecating...but I guess that’s their way of bonding...to simply share their most traumatic experiences and become friends....huh) the tension between the two of them had almost completely lifted. They sat there chatting away, all bandaged up and tired as hell, simply making the most of each other’s company.

“Oh come on, how is that not funny-” Tsunagu exclaimed, gesturing towards Shinya as he laughed. The pain in his cheek had faded, almost completely, as he slowly became more comfortable.

“Because! You try tripping over, knocking yourself out for 2 hours on the edge of a stone fountain and chipping your tooth. It isn’t a fun experience!” Shinya said enthusiastically, very defensive about the little chip in his front tooth - in response to the taller man’s question.

“Of course, sorry! Poor little Kamihara-san~” Tsunagu replied with a smile.

“Please, just call me Shinya!”

“Shinya, huh?” Tsunagu felt a little bit shy at the thought of using his first name, but it would probably be easier. “You know, now that I think about it, being in the middle of this storm isn’t so bad.”

Shinya smiled. He’d always loved this type of weather, and seeing the lanky man in front of him start to agree, he felt like he’d somehow accomplished something.

They were startled from their little conversation by a loud beeping noise coming from Shinya’s phone. When he checked it, he let out a shocked gasp and this caused Tsunagu to be slightly worried. Was it something important?

“What? What is it?”

“I can’t believe it...it’s already 1:45...we’ve talked for so long!”

Tsunagu widened his eyes in disbelief as he checked his own phone. Yep. That was the time. They’d gotten so carried away by their conversation that they’d become completely unaware of the time. They shared a very shocked look before snickering at their own carelessness. “Hah! To think that there was a time I’d never imagined this would happen.”

Shinya quickly got up from his seat, and started to make his way to the kitchen. “Sorry, I realise that it’s probably way too late for this, but I realise I never offered you food!” He called out.

“It’s okay! I forgot about it myself! But to be honest, what food could we possibly have at 1:46am?” Tsunagu inquired, slowly becoming more aware of the hunger that crept through his stomach.

“Hm...” Shinya thought before looking back up at the confused man with excited eyes, “pizza?”

“Pizza?!”

“Uh-huh!”

“Who on earth sells pizza at this time?!”

Shinya chortled at the other’s comedic remark. “Oh, you seem to be forgetting all that I told you about my very first internship...” he said slyly.

“Of course...that’s actually a brilliant idea!” Tsunagu laughed. Well...who doesn’t love getting 50% off of pizzas, even at 1:47 in the morning!

So, they ordered pizza. Just...two pro heroes, chilling out at 2:00am, eating pizza instead of sleeping off their injuries. How fun!

After even more time, the two of them decided it was best to actually get some sleep, and Tsunagu watched as the silver haired man quietly said goodnight and crept up the stairs, before setting his head down on the arm of the sofa - his legs dangling over the edge.

He listened as the wind and rain battered against the window. Normally, he’d be fed up by these noises, however that night, he found himself listening to it peacefully, and he had a thought:

‘maybe the rain isn’t so bad after all...’

[crystallized-shadow]

Rating: Teen Pairing: Hashirama/Madara/Tobirama Word Count: 1373 Warnings: Past child abuse, hurt/comfort Summary:  Hashirama and Tobirama finally learn why Madara never takes off his gloves.

For @naruto-rarepair-bingo Board A: h/c

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Uchiha were strange creatures to the Senju, that much isn’t new, and even all the years spent both at war and during peace hadn’t changed that. To Hashirama and Tobirama, the strangest one of them all was Madara; the Uchiha clan head had more ticks than a stray cat. The two brothers would often spend their free time coming up with crazy reasons for each odd quirk of Madara’s. Their favorite one to guess at was Madara’s refusal to ever remove his gloves, Hashirama hadn’t seen his bare hands since they were children. Hashirama’s theories were often childish, maybe Madara had really ugly fingernails, while Tobirama’s were often darker, perhaps the Uchiha was hiding a missing a finger and was too vain to let anyone know. The Senju brothers had tried unsuccessfully to ask Izuna, apparently Madara had picked up the habit shortly after the incident by the river and had never shared his reasoning.

It wasn’t until after the brothers had finally convinced the stubborn Uchiha to move in with them that they learned his reasoning. Even as the more realistic of the two, Tobirama is caught off guard by the story behind such an innocent article of clothing. The night in question had started out simple enough, it was Madara’s turn to cook dinner and Tobirama was forcing Hashirama to finish up the paperwork he’d tried to hide under his desk at the end of the day. None of them liked to bring work home, they rarely got a break from their duties, but this stuff was important and Hashirama really needed to learn better time management anyway.

“Fuck!” The snarled curse breaks Tobirama’s concentration and he’s in the kitchen before he even realizes he’s moving, Hashirama a few short seconds behind him.

“Madara?” Tobirama mutters, eyes following the blood trail to the sink, “what happened?”

“Hand slipped,” Madara grumbles, not bothering to turn around and look at either man, “I’m fine just go back to bossing Hashbrown around.”

“Madara!” Hashirama whines, hating when the two team up on him, “are you sure you’re okay? That seems like a lot of blood.”

“Let me see,” Tobirama insists, moving to Madara’s side as he ignores his brother’s whining. He gently grabs the Uchiha’s wrist as Hashirama moves to the other side so Madara can’t make a run for it.

“I’m fine!” The snapped words are ignored as Tobirama pulls the injured hand closer so he can inspect it. Unfortunately, the glove prevents Tobirama from actually seeing the wound and he yanks it off despite his partner’s protests. It’s only the sight the severely discolored skin that makes everyone pause.

“Madara…?”

Madara remains silent, his head ducked enough for his hair to block his face from view. Taking a moment to get past the shock, Tobirama frowns as he looks closer at the damage, taking in the faint tremor of the other’s hand as he does.

“These look like burns,” Tobirama mutters, making sure to keep his tone even and non-judgmental, “training accidents?”

It takes the Uchiha a long moment, but when he finally meets Tobirama’s eyes, the Senju knows these scars were no accidents. “Like most of my clan, I've always had a knack for fire,” Madara mumbles, his voice smaller than either Senju has ever heard it, “but I wasn’t an accident-prone child.”

“So, if they weren’t accidents…?” Hashirama questions, finally finding his voice again now that he desperately needs to know the truth. The fact that it’s also way past time Madara actually talked about the trauma is just a bonus for the elder Senju. The Uchiha doesn’t fight as Hashirama gently heals the relatively minor cut and leads him to the couch. Hashirama presses himself against Tobirama’s side as the younger Senju pulls Madara down so he’s seated in both their laps.

“I got in trouble a lot as a kid,” Madara admits as he settles more comfortably against his partners’ chests, “I thought the war was stupid and I was pretty vocal about it when Tajima forced Izuna to start fighting. Befriending a Senju was the last straw for my father, he cracked down on me and his punishments were severe.” Madara trails off as he stares at his hands. “Tajima used various methods to burn my hands before he’d make practice hand signs, beating me with his belt for each one I got wrong.”

“Those scars on your back?” Tobirama mutters and Madara nods with a frown.

“Depending on the method Tajima used, there were times I couldn’t move my fingers at all,” Madara admits, his gaze a million miles away as he speaks, “when that happened, he’d just beat me into unconsciousness. I took to wearing gloves because Izuna freaked out the first time he saw my hands.”

“How often did this happen?” Hashirama demands, his tone dark in a way that should scare Madara, but he’s too detached to feel much of anything at the moment.

“Couple times a week, unless I really pissed Tajima off, then it might happen every day,” the Uchiha states neutrally and Tobirama calms enough to realize Madara is zoning out. Drawing his brother’s attention, both Senju loosely wrapping an arm around Madara’s waist, resting their chins on the shoulder closest to them. They wanted Madara to know he’s not alone without startling him. “Right after that day at the river was the worst.”

“What happened?”

“He held my hands in the fire until my skin was blistered and bleeding, then he doused me in boiling water.” Madara lapses into silence for several long moments before he sighs and places his hands over the arms around him. “The clan healer was forbidden from helping me; he did the second Tajima was gone, but even he couldn’t do much. My hands hadn’t even healed before he shoved them in a pot of boiling water.”

“How can you even still use them?” Tobirama asks, shifting so he can gently cradle his Uchiha’s hands, “with all that damage the nerves should be dead.”

“It would be easier if they were dead,” Madara mutters with a frown, “a dead nerve can’t transfer pain. Depending on the day I have very little to no feeling in my hands, and on the days I can feel anything, the nerves just register pain.”

“I know how to heal nerves,” Hashirama points out as he places a chaste kiss on Madara’s cheek, “why haven’t you ever told me so I could help you?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Madara glances over his shoulder to glare at his hashbrown, “why would I want you to know I’m damaged?”

“You’re not damaged!”

“At least not anymore damaged than the rest of us,” Tobirama chuckles, his dark humor get the quickest twitch of a smile from the Uchiha, “seriously though, you should let Anija look at them; the longer the nerves are damaged the harder they are to heal.”

“I appreciate your concern, honestly I do, but I’m fine,” Madara insists, turning around into their laps so he can pull Tobirama into a kiss, “really, I am.”

Instantly knowing what his partner is doing, Tobirama pulls back and glares at him. “Madara you are constantly in pain; you are not fine.”

“It’s no one’s business besides my own,” Madara growls, glaring right back, “I hadn’t planned on you two finding out!”

“Do you think we like knowing you’re in pain?” Hashirama mutters, his eyes watering like someone just kicked his favorite puppy, “you are precious to us, I don’t like knowing you’re hurt.”

“Hashi….” Madara mumbles, anger deflating and leaving him feeling hollow. “I...I’m sorry…”

“This isn’t your fault Madara,” Tobirama says firmly, grasping Madara’s chin and forcing eye contact between the two because he needs Madara to understand this, “don’t you ever think for a second that needing to ask for help so you can live pain free is a weakness.”

Madara is silent for a long moment before he smiles shyly. “Tell you what, let me get drunk and then Hashirama can look at my hands; I refuse to deal with his inevitable blubbering while sober.”

“When you put it like that,” Tobirama chuckles, “I’m going to need a drink too.”

“Hey!” Hashirama huffs, “I’m not that bad!”

[bywandandsword]

Ok so, just now for that last post the generator shot out ‘Simple Country Protagonist of Noble Birth’, and that’s essentially one of my OCs so here’s her story if your interested

The takes place in the 1880-90s. When the story starts, Simon’s been on the run for almost five years, dressed as a boy, and half the time she forgets that she’s not one. She spent six months riding up and down the river on the steamboat and got off in Missouri to find other work, hopping from job to job, always reading the papers for any news from New Orleans, and has gotten very good at pretending to be just another young man looking for work. She spent a few months riding the rails, with the vague notion of California or Canada or where ever, just always on the move. Margaritte’s family down south has gotten very powerful, and even more so when she married again, this time to an oil baron turned senator. Simon doesn’t know if Marg is still hunting for her, but isn’t about to risk being found. At the start of the story, she finds herself in Kansas, following a river she was told would lead her to a road, which she could follow to a railway, but either she’s lost or it’s way father than she anticipated, she’s almost out of food, and it’s late September, so it’s getting cooler than is comfortable for someone without a jacket at night. That’s when she sees a farm, miles away from anything, and all the residents are having their lunch outside, enjoying the some of the last few pleasant sunny days of the year. Well, this is too easy, Simon thinks, she’ll just take a bit of bread, a bit of meat and cheese, maybe a better knife, and be on her way with none the wiser, just like she’d done a dozen times in the last few years, she’s long gotten over any moral debate about stealing. Only this time after she grabs what she wants, an incident involving an insistent horse leads to her being discovered. The oldest son Michael (who has two younger twin sibs), wants to take her into town right then and hand this thieving boy over to the law. The father, an older man named Mr. Elias Blez, sees how travel worn and ragged the youth is, how he didn’t take anything but food, and knows that winter is almost upon them, and thinking they’ve been needing a bit of help around the farm anyway, makes Simon a deal. If Simon agrees to work for them as a farm hand until May, they’ll let him leave with as much food and supplies as they can spare and won’t turn him into the law. Mr. Belz also makes it clear that if Simon does try to run, he wouldn’t make it out of the county. It’s black mail, but Mr. Belz think’s its ultimately going to prevent Simon dying of exposure or worse somewhere. Simon, who doesn’t feel like she has much of a choice, agrees. Almost immediately, Mrs. Johanna Belz figures out that Simon isn’t a man, but Simon is like, “We already have an agreement, I won’t be treated any different because of this realization” (cause guess who doesn’t ID as a woman anymore but who doesn’t have the vocabulary to say she’s genderqueer!) and the family hesitantly agrees to let this weird half-feral runaway be. So, she helps them do the last of the harvest and the culling and the rest of the winter preparations. Michael expects Simon to rob them blind and run away any moment now. Simon is secretly glad to have a place to stay for the winter and actually grows to care a great deal for this family, though she still puts up the distanced grumpy front she started with. They go into town sometimes and Simon always presents as male. As winter goes on, Simon gets the first taste in a long time of what it’s like to be in a family again and all the feelings she’s suppressed start bubbling up. Once, after a long day, a family friend and his kids brings over some food, booze, and instruments and the two groups have an impromptu party. Simon gets shnockered and when she gets pressured and dared to sing something, she grabs the fiddle and preforms an old diddy her father used to play in French, then a piece by Bach, then a waltz. And once she’s felt the shape of French in her mouth, her first language, she doesn’t release it easily, the more she drinks the more French she speaks and the more the Belzs wonder how the hell a ragged vagabond they found stealing from them acquired training in classical violin and learned French. 

-

Flashback: Her full name is Marie Simone Madeline Lereau de Saint-Maxent, but everyone just called her Maggie. She got this absurdly long name cause she happens to be the eldest child of the wealthy merchant Saint-Maxent family, living in New Orleans. Her father is gone a lot for business and she’s an only child but she has her mother and tutors for company and spends most of her childhood receiving a strict, classical education, even spending a few summers at a boarding school in Paris. When she’s 14, her mother gives birth to her younger brother, Jean René, but she dies shortly after. Obviously everyone is devastated, but Father decides his children need a mother and, as was commonly done at the time, he marries a recently widowed woman with three children of her own, Margaritte. It starts out pleasant as it could be, but as Maggie ages, and Father refuses to change his will to prefer Margaritte’s children over Maggie and Jean, Marg gets manipulative and controlling of Maggie, though never towards baby Jean. The years roll on in this tense way until, when Maggie is 17, Father, Maggie, and two of Marg’s children catch the Fever. Father dies, but Maggie and the other youths recover. Marg uses this as an opportunity to force Maggie to sign paperwork denouncing her claim to the inheritance, and produces a forged will to back it up. She’s paid off the police and the lawyers to make it stick and threatens that if Maggie turned up dead, no one would know that she didn’t die from fever too. Maggie refuses and that night, men sent by Marg break into her room and try to drag her out, but she manages to get free of them, grab one of their guns, and kills one of the assailants. The others flee. She grabs as much clothes, money, and just, stuff that she can fit into a bag and runs. She catches a train that night to Baton Rouge. She’s still got the gun and the whole train ride, she’s processing wtf just happened and cleaning the blood off her hands and worrying about her brother and wondering if it was really fever that killed her father or poison, but by the time she gets to Baton Rouge, she’s together enough to think. She uses her mother’s maiden name, gets in contact with a friend, the son of a family servant, and rents a room in a low-key b&b and waits for the newspapers. Sure enough, they report that all members of the Saint-Maxent family had died, except the youngest, and that Marg find herself a fortunate and exceedinglyy wealthy new heiress. Her contact reports that Marg’s men are still looking for Maggie and offers to help her disappear. They sell what valuables Maggie brought with her, except the gun, she cuts her hair, starts going by Simon. She buys some of men’s clothes clothes, using enough money to bribe her way onto temporary employment on a steam boat headed north. 

-

Simon doesn’t say anything more about it until almost February. By this point, she’s grown to love and trust the Belzes and their community and vice versa, Michael has grown to trust her too (especially after Plot and Hijinks), and when he stopped being a dick to her, she befriended him and has feelings for him but like hell is she going to admit it to herself much less anyone else. She’s starting to think this might be someplace she can stay, actually build a life, a home. Then Marg’s name shows up in the paper. I haven’t figured it out but for business reasons Marg has bought a house in the closest big city, maybe Kansas City or Dodge City? and is using it as a base of operations for a branch of her business. But that means she and many of her people are less than a stones throw away, practically breathing down he neck, and Simon just fucking has a panic attack. What if her step mother comes to their town? Are they still looking for her? What if someone identifies her? What if one of her men recognizes her? And what’s happened to her brother, who’d be about ten? Well, Mrs. Belz finds Simon clutching the newspaper, hyperventilating, and after that, the truth comes pouring out. Everyone is shocked. I haven’t actually thought much past this scene, where Simon tells her story to the very shocked Belzes, but Stuff will happen. The Belzes talk her out of just bolting for Canada, Simon will eventually encounter Marg again face to face after she rogues into the house for some reason. Marg has a delicate little pistol, but Simon still has that old blood stained revolver. Way after this, Michael will fistfight one of the goons, and the story will eventually be brought to light, but I have no idea how that will all play out or the consequences. 

[sailoryue]

A Saiyan Prince, and his princess

"Complication? What do you mean complication??" Bulma was at her 4th month checkup for her pregnancy, and they finally had a chance to find out the gender if they wanted, which Vegeta did not. He wanted it a surprise, as with saiyan babies they know almost imediatly what the baby is, he actually wanted it to be a surprise. But when they had their ultrasound, the technician had some concern and imediatly paged Bulma's obygn. The doctor pulled up the image of Bulma's ultrasound, and pointed to a part of it. "It appears as if the umbilical chord has wrapped itself arouind the baby's leg." she explained. "What the hell does that mean!?" Vegeta shouted. The seemed to vibrate around him. Bulma may not be able to read energies, but she knew Vegeta enough that things will start to break if left unchecked. And the last thing they needed was to have to find yet another doctor, since Vegeta had "chased away" the first one simply for being a male. She placed a hand on his bicep, which snapped him out of his impending implosion. He looked down at her before taking a deep breath, pulling back on his wayward ki. The doctor gave him a questioning look before continuing. "We're not sure just now. It can and may effect the baby's development, or cause issues down the road. You're best bet right now is to be on strict bed rest. That is the best advisory right now, to prevent any further complications." "Bed rest?" Bulma repeated. "For the rest of my pregnancy?" "Yes. You need to avoid all undue stress." The doctor gave a pointed look at Vegeta. Said saiyan prince narrowed his eyes in return. Bulma sighed in resignation. ----- A few weeks later, Vegeta had just finished training and entered Bulma's bedroom. He paused at the door tho as he had heard her talking to someone, but there was no one else in the room. Who the hell was she talking to? He marched over to her bed, and the conversation she was having stopped. He crossed his arms at the sight of all the paperwork spread over her bed. Bulma looked up at her husband innocently. "Good afternoon, Vegeta." He raised an inquiring, grumpy eyebrow, he gestured to the papers on the bed. "What's all this?" Bulma closed an open binder, and moved it to cover another stack of papers. "Oh, just some light reading." Vegeta crossed his arms, not believing Bulma at all. Noticing something, he reached to the side of her head and pulled an earpiece off her ear. He held it up, questioningly. "That's... just some music I--" She was cut off by the tiny device bursting in his hand by a small amount of ki he sent to it. "HEY! What the hell Vegeta!?" She shouted, hands on her hips "I could ask you the same thing, Bulma! You are supposed to be on bedrest right now, not running Capsule Corp." Vegeta responded. "I can't just leave my company to run itself for 4 months!" She whined, crossing her arms and sulking. "You have to take care of yourSELF, not the company!" Vegeta tossed the remnants of the blue-tooth phone piece in the nearby waste-basket. She glared at him. "This from the man who decided it was a good idea to train in 450 times earth's gravity with 4 broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a concussion. Vegeta narrowed his eyes at that. "Touche, woman." He approached the bed, and whispered, "But we're not just talking about YOUR health now. We have to worry about the life of our baby." Bulma looked down at her growing baby bump, and placed both hands around it. "Good point. I suppose things will be OK for a few months." Vegeta placed his hand on her belly next to hers. There was a quiet peace that was usually so rare in the Briefs household. Bulma closed her eyes and relaxed. "Thank you." He muttered a whisper, before recoiling. "What the hell?!" He yelped. Bulma opened here eyes, looking at him in confusion. "What?" He looked down in confusion at Bulma's stomach, then to his hand, then back to her stomach. "What the hell was the hell was that?" It took a few seconds for Bulma to realize what happened. When she did she burst into a fit of giggles. Vegeta scowled at her. Taking a deep breath she explained what was so funny. That was the baby kicking. And it was a heck of a kick too. Seems like SOMEone is taking after their father and is ready to be a fighter. "That was the baby KICKING?" Vegeta asked in wonder. "Do they do that alot?" Bulma smiled up at Vegeta. "All the time. Trunks particularly favored using my kidney's as punching bags." Vegeta looked at her in wonder. He suddenly had a new respect for her. Putting up with a saiyan child for almost 9 months using her body as a personal training room, she had alot more strength than he thought she did. He placed his hand back on her stomach and felt again, the baby kicking at it. Again he felt bad that he had missed this part when she was pregnant with Trunks, and he was glad to witness this. He wasn't going to miss anything of this pregnancy! ------- It wasnt long before it was time for the delivery. The doctor stated that since the umbilical chord was still wrapped around the baby's leg, the best bet was for Bulma to have a c-section. Vegeta was quite anxious about having to wait out in the waiting room for Bulma to be let out of the surgery. He hated this feeling, and hated having to wait. He did not pay attention to Trunks or any of the other people providing moral support for this. He didn't care. He only had Bulma and the baby on his mind as he stared hard at the door, waiting for the doctor to return. Soon the doctor did come thru the door and beckoned Vegeta over to her. "Mr Briefs, everything went well on the surgery, both Mrs Briefs and the baby are well. Bulma is recovering and you can see her shortly. You have a very beautiful baby girl. In fact, what I had thought to be the umbilical chord was actually something very unexpected." The doctor paused. While he was releived that both his wife and the baby (a girl!) were healthy, he wanted to know what was this unexpected thing was, and he did not like how the doctor paused. "And that was?" he asked thru clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. "Well, what we thought was the umbilical chord, was actually a tail. It's the strangest thing, a full sized tail too!" The doctor seemed baffled at the idea. Vegeta was floored. His child, his DAUGHTER, has a tail. A very part of saiyan heritage. He felt something. Was it pride? A little bit of joy? he didnt care. He wanted to see her, no both of them. And as soon as possible. "Oh that's all? That's fine. She gets that from me. When can I see them?" The doctor seemed taken aback by his light attitude. What did he mean by that she gets it from him? He certainly didn't have a tail, did he? "Uh, in about 20 minutes." Vegeta nodded and waited. He wanted to see his newborn baby daughter. His saiyan princess. The first of his line who has a tail!

[bigpatrolkid-blog]

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Essay (Any style), Everyday terms, 5 pages

My 2 essential choices are Theme A and Electronic to get Computer Science. Merely as well distribute Subject Do, that could lead to three documents, you claim must only be restricted to a pair of. So do We never bother about Theme C? And also will i publish regarding Subject matter C but not be worried about breaking a ‘two essay’ suggestion?

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