#he is a destructive little criminal at certain times of the day

[a-polite-melody]

I adore this little loaf

Even if he was just trying to chew on the couch

[youryurigoddess]

The stuff dreams are made of, or the interesting case of Anthony J. Crowley

We’ve talked a bit about Crowley’s trauma and his way of reclaiming the narrative in the past, but it’s time for some deep dive into the story he’s trying to tell. A story that meanders through the fabric of time and space, slightly changing with the human fashion trends, but slowly and surely bringing the demon closer to a certain angel like the red thread of fate.

1793

Some stories start in a garden, some even Before the Beginning, but this one starts with an Arrangement. Or, to be precise, a little bit after that.

See, most of the iterations of Crowley we saw throughout the history until then didn’t delve too deep into human cultural tropes. If anything, they were the inspirations behind more or less prominent biblical figures, maybe some nameless villains matching his demonic provenance and role assigned to him by his employers.

But in the hustle and bustle of the revolutionary Paris, Crowley emerges as a prototype of the Scarlet Pimpernel — a chivalrous Englishman who rescues aristocrats before they are sent to the guillotine. Stan Lee famously called him “the first character who could be called a superhero”.

Sir Percy Blakeney, the main character of the novel and the West End play under the same title, leads a double life. Appearing as nothing more than a wealthy fop, in reality he’s a formidable swordsman, a quick-thinking master of disguise and an escape artist. Even his own wife, Marguerite, has no idea.

Unfortunately Marguerite is being blackmailed with her brother’s life to find and expose the wanted Pimpernel. She regrets betraying her husband the moment she's forced to do it and spends the rest of the plot working to save him. She does, they make up, and return together to England.

In Aziraphale and Crowley’s case there was just a short stop for crêpes. But what seems to be an inspiration of a specific scene might as well come up later in the wider perspective of the show, so keep in mind those fragments of the musical’s libretto:

We all are caught in the middle

of one long treacherous riddle.

Can I trust you?

Should you trust me too?...

We shamble on through this hell

taking on more secrets to sell

'til there comes a day

when we sell our souls away.

We seek him here, we seek him there,

Those Frenchies seek him everywhere!

Is he in heaven? Is he in hell?

Where is that damn elusive Pimpernel!

1941

The London Blitz is when we see a full-fledged iteration of the superhero Crowley performing dashing and heroic deeds under the literal cover of darkness and air bomb smoke. In a bespoke double-breasted suit and a fedora — still free from the unfortunate modern connotations from the internet culture — he’s clearly channeling Humphrey Bogart as a private investigator Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon (1941) now.

It all starts with a woman and a simple plan gone wrong: Spade’s partner is shot dead, just like the man he was supposed to be tailing upon the request of a mysterious Miss Wonderly. And when a very soft-looking, sweet-scented man named Joel Cairo appears in his office willing to pay a hefty price for a "black figure of a bird", Spade starts not only a new job, but also his own quest for truth.

On the surface, The Maltese Falcon ends happily: the killer gets caught, and the hero winds up with the Falcon. But Spade's victory is completely hollow. The Falcon itself, originally meant as a symbol of loyalty, transforms into a symbol of a corrupting, futile, and self-destructive greed that makes people betray their own loyalties.

The treasure is just a worthless forgery and he’s fallen in love with the criminal — one of the first femmes fatales on screen. Despite his feelings for her and a kiss, Spade gives her up and submits the statuette as evidence, describing it as "the stuff that dreams are made of".

Remember the eagle lectern? The eagle was believed to be flying highest in the sky and therefore closest to heaven, symbolizing the carrying of the word of God to the four corners of the world. Aziraphale in the 1941 church scene is the closest to Heaven we’ve seen him on Earth. Just look at him: dressed in a smart, well-fitted coat with peaked lapels, symbolizing his Heavenly allegiance, and doing good this time not as a work assignment, but of his own accord. Being the closest to Heaven means the furthest and most unattainable for a demon like Crowley.

The Maltese Falcon is a metaphor for unattainability — things out of reach to desire and fight for, although never truly possess. It’s “the stuff that dreams are made of”. But Crowley secured the original — made of gold and encrusted with jewels, but hiding its real value under black enamel — eerily reminiscent of the demon himself and the unending kindness behind his inappropriately tight black clothing.

Quoting Michael Ralph — the production mastermind behind Good Omens — from the S01E04 “Saturday Morning Funtime” DVD commentary, “We wanted to tip our hat to the Maltese Falcon as being a precious object that no-one thought really exists but it does”. So we can safely assume that Crowley can and will achieve his dream in the future.

1967

Do you know what else happens in 1941 in Scotland? Ian Fleming, a British naval intelligence agent, meets with the famous occultist Aleister Crowley and asks him to lead the interrogation of newly imprisoned Rudolf Hess — a leading member of the Nazi Party in Nazi Germany appointed Deputy Führer — given the two men’s shared enthusiasm for the occult.

This meeting has a significant impact on Fleming’s work as a writer; Aleister Crowley becomes the inspiration for his first villain Le Chiffre and creates a blueprint for most of the James Bond’s franchise ever since 1953, the publication date of the novel Casino Royale.

Meanwhile our Anthony J. Crowley believes in himself not being the villain he’s usually and sometimes forcefully painted as, but a superhero in disguise. The character of James Bond in particular inspires him so much that he buys petrol to get the limited You Only Live Twice (1967) window decals for his Bentley, dons his own tactical turtleneck, and sets off to organize a heist like no other. Sean Connery style.

Like a typical superhero, Crowley’s once again both saved and betrayed by his love interest. Aziraphale leaves him with a thermos of Holy Water, a faint smile, and a hope that they’ll soon match their speeds to meet halfway at the Ritz. The cancelled heist is not an ending, but a promise of a new beginning. And the fact that UK decriminalizes homosexual acts in the very same year is more than telling in this regard.

2019

An exceptional situation calls for exceptional solutions, and what’s more important than the impending Apocalypse? Demon Crowley does his best to put the arsenal of his 20th century film inspirations to good use.

"Ask yourself, do you feel lucky?" Crowley drawls, clearly imitating (although slightly misquoting) the titular Dirty Harry (1971). He’s hoping to be menacing and making the point of being the one on the right side of the law and history.

Some situations require more than quoting action heroes is not everything though. He knows what to do:

A jeep was heading purposefully towards the gate, and it looked as though it was crowded with people who were about to shout questions and fire guns and not worry about which order they did this in.

[Crowley] brightened up. This was more what you might call his area of competence.

He took his hands out of his pockets and he raised them like Bruce Lee and then he smiled like Lee Van Cleef.

'Ah,' he said, 'here comes transport.'

When in doubt, Crowley acts. He transforms into a combination of a stoic martial arts phenomenon and a sardonic, menacing character. His smile alone — even on Aziraphale’s angelic face, as seen in one of the final cut scenes — seems to be enough to ward off evil spirits, angels, and humans alike.

But we all know that even as breathtaking performances as those can’t protect anyone from the cogs of the Heavenly machine and its plans.

2023

No wonder that Crowley’s tactical turtleneck comes back in style after mere four years of retirement with a self-introduction “Former Demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”. Something has changed during this time; he’s more mature now, not playing pretend by hiding behind the usual veneer of sarcasm and movie quotes anymore. Finally comfortable with the fact that this is his own story and there’s no need to become anyone else than himself.

The bookshop fire and the Heavenly trial still seem to haunt the demon in a way that makes him realize what all humans know: that every hero is his own biggest enemy. His ultimate dream might effortlessly change into his greatest nightmare any moment now, and the only thing he can do about it is hover in a two-minute distance from the epicenter of his feelings. But Crowley has no time to work on it when a new mission appears, to protect his angel from Gabriel and the combined powers of Heaven and Hell. Even if this — rather ostentatiously — is the last thing he wants to think about at the moment.

Crowley tries to plan ahead, while his story slowly warps into a different genre due to Aziraphale’s interruptions. He eventually changes back into his usual Henley shirt after agreeing to swap places and guarding the bookshop while the angel is off to Edinburgh, collecting more clues. Did he finish his personal quest off-screen? Did he just give up on it in the whirlwind of matchmaking shenanigans? Remains to be seen.

In the S2 finale our master of disguise in yet another turtleneck proves that he can successfully infiltrate even the universe’s back office. We don’t know where he drives off in the end, but one thing is certain — he’s got a plan. And a world (and his dream) to save, like a superhero he is.

[bijouxcarys]

I’ve been doing this thing for about a year now, where I’ve made it a goal to try and find the documentary that disturbs me the most.

I stay away from documentaries that focus on animal abuse, since that’s just a massive no-go area, I can’t even think about someone as little as shout at an animal.

But I’ve watched quite a few at this point. I know a lot of people out there are also interested in this kind of thing, so I’ll give you some of the ones that have really had an impact on me. I’ll start with the tamest ones (available on mainstream platforms like Netflix) and it’ll get progressively more upsetting lol.

I’m actually quite a desensitised person, so if a documentary affects me, you know it’s worth it.

Green = unfortunate and upsetting

Orange = Jesus that’s fucked up, that’s latched onto me for a while

Red = The above + will find it difficult to watch again, and this made me cry my eyes out

Bold Red = Kept me up at night for a while + all the above. Still think about it to this day.

Bold with ** = don’t watch if you don’t have a strong stomach and can’t handle emotionless gory images

Take Care of Maya (2023) - Netflix

A nightmare unfolds for Jack and Beata Kowalski after they bring their 10-year-old daughter to the ER with unusual symptoms.

Tell Me Who I Am (2019) - Netflix

When Alex loses his memory after a serious motorcycle accident, he trusts his twin Marcus to tell him about his past, but he later discovers that Marcus is hiding a dark family secret.

Keep Sweet: Pray and Obey (2022) - Netflix

The rise of Warren Jeffs in the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and his criminal case.

Abducted in Plain Sight (2017) - Netflix

In 1974, 12-year-old Jan Broberg is abducted from a small church-going community in Idaho by a trusted neighbour and close family friend.

Dreams of a Life (2011)

Discovering the truth about the life of a vivacious, intelligent woman - and how she came to be so tragically forgotten. Nobody noticed when 38-year-old Joyce Vincent died in her bedsit above a shopping mall in North London in 2003. When her remains were discovered three years later, her heating and her television were still on. Who was Joyce Vincent, and how could this happen to someone in today's age of communication?

Just Melvin, Just Evil (2000)

In this documentary focusing on his own tortured family tree, James Ronald Whitney chronicles an evil that seems too pure to be real: Melvin Just. Over the span of three generations, Just, who married Whitney's grandmother and was later convicted of child molestation, is revealed to have abused his stepchildren from two marriages. Whitney not only explores the unspeakable acts perpetrated by his grandfather, but also the legacy of self-destructive behavior that can all be traced back to Just.

Tickled (2016)

In a story stranger than fiction, journalist David Farrier uncovers a strange tickling subculture. Delving deeper into the dark world of a tickling competition, he meets with fierce resistance.

Holy Hell (2016)

Filmmaker Will Allen documents the time he spent with the Buddhafield, a Los Angeles spiritual group.

Jesus Camp (2006)

Filmmakers Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady visit an evangelical Christian summer camp called Kids on Fire, where children take part in programs designed to strengthen and intensify their beliefs. The camp's founder, Becky Fischer, discusses her mission to indoctrinate youths in the word of God, while young campers play certain combat video games and talk about their love for Jesus.

There’s Something Wrong with Aunt Diane (2011)

The accident made national headlines: a suburban mother drove the wrong way on the Taconic State Parkway in New York and crashed head-on into an SUV, killing herself and seven others. In the aftermath, Diane Schuler was portrayed as a reckless drunk and a mother who cracked. But was she the monster the public made her out to be...or the perfect wife and mother that many say she was? Investigating the case six months after the accident, this documentary searches for answers to a mysterious and senseless tragedy.

Goodnight, Sugar Babe: The Killing of Vera Jo Reigle (2020)

The discovery of the mutilated body of a mentally challenged young mother begins a journey into madness that is so unbelievable the mastermind behind the crime ultimately got away with murder.

Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills (1996)

Paradise Lost was a groundbreaking true crime documentary series released in 1996 that set the bar for the genre and influenced similar productions. The trilogy follows the story of three teenage boys who were wrongfully accused and convicted of a brutal triple homicide in West Memphis, Arkansas. The series explores themes of societal hysteria, wrongful convictions, and the power of media influence, and it launched the careers of filmmakers Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky.

**Orozco the Embalmer (2001)**

A Spanish-language, Japanese-Colombian mondo film (a subgenre of exploitive documentary films) directed by Kiyotaka Tsurisaki, following a Colombian embalmer named Froilan Orozco Duarte, who is shown living in El Cartucho, an impoverished and crime-ridden area of Bogotá, Colombia, where the homicide rate is high and corpses can be seen on the streets.

The Dying Rooms (1995)

Documentary about a crew going from one orphanage to another in China to investigate these so called "dying rooms" where the orphanage workers leave baby girls to die.

The Dancing Boys of Afghanistan (2010)

In Afghanistan many hundreds of boys, often as young as ten, are being lured off the streets on the promise of a new life. Also known as Bacha Bāzī: an ancient Afghan practice in which men train, buy, and keep adolescent young boys for entertainment and sex in a society that keeps women hidden from view.

Boy Interrupted (2009)

Filmmaker Dana Perry documents the life of her son, Evan, a 15-year-old who committed suicide. The film traces Evan's growing mental illness, including videotapes made throughout his short life and interviews with his friends and doctors.

Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father (2008)

Dear Zachary is a both a touching tribute to a fallen friend and a heart-wrenching account of justice gone astray, skillfully put to film with no emotion spared.

[graciereadshannigram]

Hannigram recs s’il te plaît- (I prefer fluff lol but anything works!)

Thank you for the boops (Your favor will be returned in large quantities)

ahhhh! currently kicking my feet, giggling, twirling my hair, etc. over this ask!! the boops (given and received) were my honor <3

but okay *whips out the fic spreadsheet* these recs are gonna be a little all over the place and i'm fairly certain all of them are rated Explicit, so i'm sorry if that's not your thing!

If you're looking for a quicker (ish) read:

Kindling by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe) Word Count: 10,281 Summary: “You should take a date to your fundraiser." “Yes, perhaps you’re right. It would be improper to invite someone under false pretence, mind, and for my patient to understand, the evidence would need to be… compelling.” “Perhaps an ex-girlfriend,” Will says, unsure why the thought makes him feel flat and remote. “That would be incredibly inappropriate.” “A friend then. Someone you can explain the problem to. You could take-” “You,” Hannibal interjects. The words belly-flop into silence. Will’s mouth opens, and then closes, and then opens again. When Franklyn's advances of friendship become too much for even Hannibal to politely ignore, he enlists Will's help. Nothing For It... by phenobarbital Word Count: 10,281 Summary: ...not thinking to consult Hannibal on the matter, Will went ahead with venting his anger and he thudded the headboard against the wall again, before pressing his lips together and letting out a loud humming moan, which he trailed off into an ‘aaah’ sound as he parted his lips. He didn’t even glance behind him, totally missing the startled and intrigued look on Hannibal’s face as he made another humming moan and thudded the headboard lightly again.

if you're looking for medium (ish) reads:

The Good Cannibal by MrGnome Word Count: 42,219 Summary: Hannibal Lecter is accidentally placed into the Good Place (heaven) instead of the Bad Place (hell) due to a filing error. Alongside his supposed soulmate, Will Graham, they have to lie so that he isn't found out by the Architect of the neighborhood: Frederick Chilton, so that he can stay in the Good Place. d A Broken Cup by GhostIsReading Word Count: 47,135 Summary: Dr Hannibal Lecter, Chesapeake Ripper and Serial Killer owned a Bentley. Used said Bentley to cart around the bodies of his victims and had thus far been uncaught. Of course that is if you didn't count Will Graham, profiler and FBI Criminal Psychology Professor, discovering him when he was hiding a corpse of his own.

if you're looking for something to dig into and really spend some time:

I Didn't Know It Could Be Like This (orphaned on ao3) Word Count: 66,376 Summary: Will and Hannibal make their way to Hannibal's safe house in New Hampshire a couple days after their plunge off the cliff and plot their next move, Will coming to terms with the fact that he is committed to it this time. If The World Burned To Ash, Still We Would Remain (orphaned on ao3) Word Count: 115,395 Summary: Hannibal and Will leave the safe house in New Hampshire and sail to the Côte d’Ivoire. Navigating the combination of their mutual dark appetites, can they avoid mutually assured destruction? Is everything aligned perfectly for once? Part 2 of a series. Not absolutely necessary to read the first part, but it does of course help with character development and understanding the established relationship.

hope there's something here you like!! xoxoxoxo

[kiwioala]

reports from the federation workers today!

Report 00212 Facility unidentified It's been informed multiple times about the loss of a Binary Entity subject, in the past days the entity has been studied and experimented on, it brought us important and precious data, leading us close to finding both information of what are the Binary and what they are related with, and who is behind it's actions and creations. From what was registered, an intruder trespassed our security system and was able to get access to our laboratories from what is seen, the criminal who is currently still unidentified, with only suspects of have already acted before. Fortunately, their only interests was to steal our experimental subject. This is an important matter, and we want both a security system update and the subject back, categorized as either dead or alive.

Report 00213 Main office We received documents directly asking for the review of the security system and the creation of new methods to keep the residents and their entertainment at maximum. We need to keep an eye on the levels of happiness and satisfaction of the islanders, as we want to prevent disasters such as the explosions and destruction that happened back then. How are the coffee machines already back? I tried my best, I've been working endlessly... what a shame.. And I was waiting anxiously to be called to that meeting... Sometimes things don't work out I guess...

Census bureau, The black matter has been reduced in certain areas and removed in others in its entirety. We have attempted to discover who or what caused the black concrete but we will be continuing our research on the matter.

Status reports: First, one of the residents, "Foolish" wasn't in the count of residents that have been verified as having returned to Quesadilla Island. No sighting or signs yet. Second, we have captured one of the entities or "workers" (little guys? I don't know what to call them) from the entity that took over Egg Island. Their name is Luffy. We think they have some valuable information for us. Finally, as for the entity that took over Egg Island itself, (the "eye") I don't have any updates on him. He has all but disappeared. His current status is unknown. I'm tracking these items and should anything change I will let you know.

[stephenminiotis]

On Hearing Voices: Phase 1: Fear -Neut

Today I want to talk about the very first phase of schizophrenia, which I've deduced to be: auditory hallucinations that scare you.

Some schizophrenics are fortunate in that, the voices do not scare them. These schizophrenics inadvertently get patched to PHASE TWO immediately, and even come to know PHASE THREE and etc. quicker than their fearful peers, in my opinion. But that's neither here nor there.

But MOST schizophrenics (and i'm talking without looking at any stats) are afraid. At least, for a little while. At least, in the beginning. Something scares them. That something is the voices.

They're afraid the voices are a cop. An alien. God or Jesus himself or Allah. and etc. They're afraid that the voices are an Angel or a Demon - well, you get the point. What these schizophrenics basically fear, is a fear of the unknown. And what happens after death, unbeknownst to all of us, is the great fear that binds schizophrenics to phase one.

Are the cops going to come beat me up and kill me? Are there terrorists in my mind using voice to skull technology? Will I be absolved somehow; relieved from this earth and removed? Is a Criminal syndicate in my mind? Are the russians communicating with me with malicious intent? Are aliens going to probe me and my family? But above all: Will the voices come to harm me? Will I die?

This, my friend, coupled with the "programmers" relentless assault on anything you hold dear, and attacks during the times when your mind thinks it is safe, is the jist phase one: Fear and approbation. Fear of the unknown, and fear of the hereafter and fear of death.

The voices are never polite. They tell you to kill yourself or your loved ones. They threaten to beat, harm or maim you. Some people have reported trauma so real from hearing voices, that they have forced orgasms to disguising pictures in their mind. This is a relentless assault, and you WILL be traumatized. Or you're very lucky. In which case, you're already in a subsequent phase.

I myself remember a time when my penis became erect and had an orgasm, without me touching it. Just from the use of my mind. This has happened to me several times. I suppose I was in a dream like state, having what might be considered a wet dream while awake.

Despite all this. Sometimes, there is approbation, or a certain fondness. This is a sort of 'stockholm syndrome' - a certain sympathy for those voices which oppress you. This comes naturally. And even as the voices reject all kind gestures and words, and remind you that they're there to kill you, harm you and your loved ones, or family, and etc. There comes a time (only for some schizophrenics, though; many don't make it out of phase one: and live afraid for life!), there comes a time that the voices become endearing, like chatting with a friend who wants to kill you, and despite their malicious attacks on your psyche, this relentless assault and abuse, in phase two: you put that all behind you. The threats don't seem real. You toughen up. Or you get angry. You won't take no more. Sometimes, you forgive and forget, maybe you're old now and over it. Or you actually sympathize with the "perpetrator" in your mind. Maybe you find their destructive threats somehow endearing. Welcome to phase two.

Stephen M. Miniotis "NeutralG" or "Neut", is a part-time undergraduate studying English Literature at the prestigious University Of Toronto. He is a diagnosed Paranoid Schizophrenic who hears voices chatting with him all day long ,for which he recieves a 3-month injection cycle of medication. He has heard voices for decades. He hears voices to this day. According to him, he is no longer afraid of the voices, and has proceeded to a subsequent phase of introspection.

This article is a rough draft and will be subsequently edited for a book. It is published with permission. (c) 2023 Stephen M. Miniotis.

[ungrateful-cyborg-moved]

16. How does your OC make money? Do they have a respectible profession or work a series of odd jobs? Are they a criminal? Or do they get creative in the pursuit of coin?

bonus- how do they spend their money? do they go for more expensive items, or are they penny pinchers? What are their biggest purchases they’ve made? Any foolish financial decisions like a certain man and hair ties?

For Alajka, Astrid, and Wolfe! And of course, anyone else you wish to share!

Alakja's old. Very old. Old enough that unless he's meant to live exceptionally longer than most Vieras, he only has a few more years ahead of him before Death gets him. So for most of his life, he's had no need for money or any sort of currency. Living mostly alone in the Wood—save of the few social gatherings in his village—most of what he needed, he would gather and craft himself. Clothes, food, medicine...

The existence of currency was a surprise when he left the Woods to join the Imperial Army. He's still not quite entirely certain of the merit of it, and more often than not he forgets that he could get paid for the stuff he does for others now that the Empire is in shamble. He used to get paid as a lowly soldier, though. Not a lot, of course, and since he's never learned how to be financially wise, he's been scammed a few times out of his meager savings despite never buying anything fancy.

It's not that he's entirely naive though, it's just that he's a grandpa completely out of his element and Very Confused about Life Outside The Woods. But he's also not the smartest man, that's true XD

At least he's happy?

And currently missing after falling down a crevasse.

Before the destruction of the Isle of Val, she had a salary. At the time she was working there on her thesis to get her Archon mark, for the Students of Baldesion. Then the island disappeared and Astrid with it, and reappeared (without Astrid) and when she, eventually, surfaced back in her turn, she had been declared dead for a few years.

She was fortunate that her parents kept faith she'd come back, because in their inability to truly grieve for their daughter, they refuse to let go of a lot of her stuff so she didn't lose everything. A lot, but not everything.

Eventually after a few months fighting the Sharlayan bureaucracy to be undeadened officially, she took a ship to Eorzea and joined Krile and the Scions in a semi official capacity while trying to figure out what to do with her second chance at life. She basically helped and ran errands, so she was paid a little something and had a room in the Rising Stones.

Until she was teleported in Doma out of the blue a few months after.

But then the group she ended up with was paying for everything so it's been a non-issue for the most part. She's coming back to Sharlayan soon though, and I imagine she'll join the Students once again and be an employee there, helping in the reconstruction of the organization.

As to how she spends what little money she has? Books, chocolate, pastries, cooking ware, sewing material, knitting stuff, etc. Lots of hobbies are stored in this historian XD

I'll start with how he spends his money: on his equipment, for a start. On rent for his investigator office, although now that he's been exiled it's not a concern of his anymore, on clothes because he likes being well-dressed, on food even though he had found a way to grow vegetables in abundance despite the climate. On materials for his experimentation, whenever his best friend Edith is around and they're working on the latest dumb idea they've chosen to call a project. They are many of those, but fortunately she's not in Thanalan often xD And of course, he spoils his small menagerie: his cat, his dog and his chocobo.

Prior to being a private investigator (and earning irregular pay), he used to be in the Sultansworn. It ended badly for him, but even though it wasn't the reason why he joined, it did pay well.

Mostly these days he lives on his savings—what he's managed to bring with him—and he has yet to take odd jobs to complement it, mostly because he's on a job currently to find the damn anonymous client who gave them a case well above his pay grade (without warning, which is really what he's salty about :'D)

His relationship with money is a bit complicated, though. Despite being born and raised in Ul'dah, he's not very concerned with becoming rich. He does, however, share Zero's views (if you've met her in the story) about generosity and debts. Basically, there's no act of generosity, only debts to be repaid (with coin or with acts of service). And I suspect she'll change her mind long before he does XD

And though it hasn't been shown in game that much, I do think bargaining is a cultural aspect in Ul'dah. It's a city of merchants, after all. So he'll bargain before buying most of everything because he's convinced that—at least in Thanalan—you get scammed if you don't.

Thanks for the ask, @healersadjust!

GET TO KNOW THE OC

[burningexeter]

[PITCH]

Burnriders

What is it —

A computer-animated action/superhero crime drama film about the world of illegal street racing and the urban latino community.

PREMISE:

Set in Mexico City's seedy underbelly, we follow Duke Salizar, a young 20-something criminal and illegal street racer who has been released from parole and is looking to both make it big in the crime world and seek revenge against those who left him behind in jail to fend for himself. Highly skilled in front of the wheel and with a ruthless and cold violent streak behind him, he's not to be messed with when anyone gets in his way.

That is until after attempting to steal back his ride that was taken from him leaves him with a nasty and quite bloody gutshot, he discovers once his life is in danger that he's actually somehow managed to develop the ability of smoke mimicry. Realizing his newfound power can be used to his benefit, Duke begins marking his own territory that quickly puts him at odds with not only his former allies that left him but also different gangs which threatens to break out into the streets.

But while all of this is happening, he manages to strike up a bond and friendship with a little nine year old girl named Cecilia and Duke's actions end up affecting both her and her mother as he starts to see that his actions will soon lead to their deaths and what little humanity he's got left makes him realize he's got to stop what he started in the first place.

NOTES/TRIVIA/DETAILS:

• One thing that will make this movie stand out from other animated features is that unlike all of them, it isn't afraid to have an unlikable protagonist. Duke starts off as a cynical, sarcastic, quick-tempered, greasy and incredibly ruthless criminal whose a thief, killer and former drug dealer who's in this for himself and will do anything, no matter how down and dirty it is, to get what he wants. But he has a certain moral code to it and realizes the obvious hard way that his actions are causing nothing but pain around those who are innocent around him.

• The movie has an almost similar-esque aesthetic to Coco (2017) & Encanto (2021), because the whole pitch for it is both movies if they had gone horribly wrong. That said, the aesthetic will be made its own and will DEFINITELY have its own gritty look to it.

• As for who are the actors and actresses that will be in it, I have in mind at least five of them — Freddy Rodriguez, Carla Gugino, Sergio Peris-Mencheta, Renata Veca and William Sadler.

• The movie will be quite a hard R, plenty of swearing and brutal violence but at the same time it won't be shock for the sake of shock and there will still manage to be humanity.

• Just an added bonus, there will be a little easter egg/reference for film fans to catch — during a news segment that later details the rampant crime in the lower class sections of Mexico so that something will actually be done, the reporter brings up the mysterious and still to this day unsolved destruction of Sunnydale, California in '03. Shared universe with Buffy The Vampire Slayer and even Angel? You decide.

[jingyismom]

Thanks everyone for the prompts! I decided to try and knock these all out in one go:

@thegirlwhotrashcans: remember, you asked for it. au, nobody dies, wwx and yanli bodyswap. they're married to lwj and jzx. 100% crack. bonus points if jin zixuan completely loses his shit and lwj looks very calm but loses his sh*t after everything is back to normal

@alightbuthappypen: Competency kink! One or both of them (when I say 'them' I mean wangxian obvs, I know what I'm about) getting hot and bothered about the other being amazing. On a nighthunt maybe? Or anywhere else that strikes your fancy!

@hearteyeswangji: WRITE MORE P*RN

I think I can manage that. With a few tweaks, accidental seriousness, and broad, ridiculous fix-its tacked on. I have no idea how long this might be. Let’s try it in installments? I’ll reblog and add on as I go. Maybe it’ll be fun. We’ll find out.

Disclaimer that this is just gonna go for it with no revising and no beta readers, so pls do not hold me to any conceivable standard of coherency thx

--

WILL INCLUDE: wangxian, xuanli, let jyl and lwj be friends agenda, canon divergence, fix-it, everybody lives, arranged marriage, bodyswap, light angst, getting together, Attempts at Comedy, eventual (light?) wangxian smut

The Sunshot Campaign has just been won. Everyone goes over to Jin Guangshan’s house after the Nightless City banquet, to Negotiate Stuff, and some hasty political marriages happen resulting in Xuanli Wedded Bliss and Wangxian Un-confessed Wedded Tension. Then, suddenly...a curse befalls our brave heroes.

--

Wei Wuxian wakes suddenly, feeling odd. He’s sleeping on his stomach for one thing, which is not his usual, but he feels warm and comfortable enough that he doesn’t think it strange. But then there is the scent of peonies and gardenias, which is both familiar and alien, somehow. It makes him open his eyes. 

Which is when he sees the hand before him on the bolster. It is slender and elegant. Small. Pale. Familiar? Wearing a jade bangle. He pushes himself up a bit, startled, only to see the hand move when he does. 

The hand. Is his hand. He stares at it. The shock of it, coupled with the early hour, leave his mind working very slowly.

At length, he becomes aware of an odd weight across his back, which then shifts. Wei Wuxian turns.

He is met with the sleepy, moon-eyed stare of one Jin Zixuan, still cradling him in his arms.

“What the fuck,” says Wei Wuxian. His voice is. Soft. And high.

He would think this was all some messed-up dream if not for the fact that his dreams of late have all been messed up in an entirely different way. He’s also certain, in an odd, detached way, that he never would have imagined the battle scars that mar Jin Zixuan’s distressingly visible skin.

Jin Zixuan’s brow furrows, and he blinks. “A-Li?”

“...What the fuck.”

~~~

When Lan Wangji wakes at his customary hour, he is just slightly more tired than usual. The coverlet over him is oddly heavy, but he does not give it any thought until light from the rising sun slips over an unfamiliar sill and into his eyes. His entire body goes tense as he remembers. 

Jinlintai. The long hours of debate, of negotiation. The hasty marriages. 

He sits up in his strange bed and turns. There, in the bed opposite, is Wei Ying’s sleeping form. Close, yet still distant. Safe, at least.

Lan Wangji relaxes, and takes a breath. It was a near thing, keeping the sects from demanding more and more from Wei Ying, from treating him like a criminal instead of the hero he is. But somehow, Jiang Wanyin and Xiongzhang ended up on the same page, defending him, working tirelessly toward a compromise with the more critical parties. And now Lan Wangji has the dubious honor of ‘keeping Wei Ying in check,’ as Yao-zongzhu so inelegantly put it, through marriage. 

A strictly political marriage. A convenient solution. To bind them together, to keep Wei Ying tied under the umbrella of Lan Wangji’s rigid honor. 

It is unclear, as of yet, if Wei Ying resents this arrangement. He has not been himself since Nightless City, and the destruction of Wen Ruohan’s forces. First his long coma, then a lingering tiredness that he has not seemed able to shake, which dampens his normally-vivid expressions of feeling.

Lan Wangji is worried. But this, at least, Wei Ying has made clear is unwelcome. He seems to want to pretend that nothing has changed. Not about himself, and not between the two of them. Lan Wangji has done his best to honor his wishes, despite everything.

Now, he rises and dresses before sinking into his morning meditation. It is still strange to do so fully dressed, weighed down by the propriety required for the public, but it has felt necessary, now that Wei Ying shares chambers with him. A physical manifestation of the barrier between them, more important than ever now that they are, bizarrely, married. 

Before his meditation is finished, he hears Wei Ying stir. It is unusual for him to wake so early. Lan Wangji’s eyes snap open, immediately searching him for signs of pain.

Wei Wuxian turns over, then goes very still. He sits bolt upright, searching the bed with wild eyes, then turns them on the room at large. When they land on Lan Wangji, he curls in on himself, the fingers of one hand tightening at the collars of his sleeping robe, clutching it closed.

“La—Lan-er-gongzi?” 

His voice is oddly breathy, and his eyes...they are wide with confusion, with just the slightest tinge of fear. Lan Wangji is struck nearly senseless by the term of address, aberrant in Wei Ying’s mouth.

“What is wrong?”

Searching the room again, Wei Wuxian moves toward the edge of the bed with a strangely graceful modesty. It looks alien on his long limbs. “My...my husband. Where…?”

The word jolts through Lan Wangji’s entire body. He has never heard Wei Ying say it before. He has...wanted to hear it. Dearly, he realizes suddenly. But it sounds wrong. Distressed. Everything Wei Ying says sounds wrong.

“Wei Ying,” he says. 

Wei Ying’s eyes snap to his. “A-Xian? Where is he? Is he with A-Xuan? Are they alright?”

Lan Wangji blinks at him, uncomprehending, for several seconds. Then he begins to understand.

“You are not—”

The doors to their chambers burst open, and Jiang Yanli rushes in. The tasteful purple and gold robes she has adopted in the few days since the weddings are loose, uncharacteristically askew—not impreprietous, but verging on it. She spots Lan Wangji and her stormy expression clears.

“Lan Zhan,” she says, and her shoulders droop. 

Lan Wangji blinks at her, thrown by her use of this name, then glances at Wei Ying, who has gone completely still, his mouth open in a small, shocked ‘o.’ Jiang Yanli follows his gaze and freezes.

Just then, Jin Zixuan comes barreling into the room, significantly more unkempt than his wife. He has not even tied back his hair. 

“A-Li,” he implores, “what’s happened? We can’t just go barging into our guests’,” he pauses, and bows awkwardly, hastily, to Lan Wangji and Wei Ying in turn, “rooms like this. Please,” he takes her arm, but she shakes him off. 

She’s still staring at Wei Ying. “Sh...Shijie?”

Wei Ying startles, and looks down at himself. He holds out his arms, his hands, and looks at those too. Then he looks up at Jiang Yanli. “A-Xian?”

“Shijie,” Jiang Yanli says, and slumps over to the bed, embracing Wei Ying.

“A-Li,” hisses Jin Zixuan, scandalized. 

Lan Wangji glances at Jin Zixuan’s wife embracing his own husband on the bed, and rises. He walks briskly past them all to shut the door. Then he returns. 

“Wei Ying,” he says again. Jiang Yanli looks up at him.

It is obvious, now that he has realized it. Her face, animated by his personality. The soft warmth of her eyes sharpened just so. The deliberately graceless way she threw herself—himself—into Wei Ying’s—no, Jiang Yanli’s—arms.

Lan Wangji takes a deep breath. “Is this a curse?”

“Yes,” Wei Ying says with Jiang Yanli’s face, but his own certainty.

“How can we break it?” Lan Wangji asks.

“I”m not sure, not yet. I need to try a few things—or—having the original curse would be safer.” He looks at his sister in his own body. “I...don’t really want to experiment with this.”

Jiang Yanli tsks and bumps his shoulder a little too forcefully, jostling Wei Ying in her currently slight form. “Vain,” she says, teasing.

“Shijieee,” he whines. It sounds bizarre in Jiang Yanli’s voice. “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

“I know,” Jiang Yanli says, soothing. 

“Do you feel alright?” Wei Ying goes on, urgent.

“Perfectly alright, now that you’re both here,” she says, smiling at the newcomers in turn.

Something sharply acidic surges in Lan Wangji’s stomach at such a look on Wei Ying’s face, directed at...Jin Zixuan.

“Really, though,” Wei Ying presses, “any nausea? Dizziness? Pain? You’re not worried?”

“Not at all. Our A-Xian will figure it out.”

Lan Wangji watches as the appearance of Wei Ying’s knuckle affectionately brushes Jiang Yanli’s nose. 

Strange. It is all...so strange.

“If—”

“What is happening?” Jin Zixuan interrupts.

All three of them look at him. He stares between them, wild-eyed and desperately askew. Lan Wangji has never considered him to be particularly slow on the uptake, but he supposes allowances must be made for the stress of waking up with a stranger in one’s bed.

He does not care to investigate the perverse pang of jealousy he feels at the thought.

“A-Xuan, it’s me,” Jiang Yanli says. Jin Zixuan stares at her in Wei Ying’s body, uncomprehending. She goes on slowly, but not unkindly. “A-Xian and I have been cursed into each other’s bodies. He’s in there, and I’m in here.”

Her husband blinks several times, very quickly. Lan Wangji recognizes the moment it sinks in by the deep flush that rises across his entire face, and is certain he does not wish to know what precisely inspired it. 

Jin Zixuan takes an involuntary half-step back, then forward again, as he speaks with renewed urgency. “Why has this happened? Can it be undone?”

“Great questions,” Wei Ying says, falsely encouraging. Lan Wangji exchanges a glance with him, and it almost feels natural, to share such a thing with either Wei Ying or Jiang Yanli. “Someone was clearly either targeting me—that’s Wei Wuxian, that’s me, in here—or you...whom you know to be Jin Zixuan. I hope.”

Jin Zixuan turns a deeper shade of red. “Obviously,” he bites out. “But why?”

Wei Ying rolls his eyes dramatically. It is not something Lan Wangji ever imagined Jiang Yanli doing.

“We don’t know yet, but we will once we find and question the person responsible,” Wei Ying says. Jiang Yanli grips his arm suddenly. Wei Ying looks at her. “And yes, it can be undone. Of course it can. I’ll figure it out.”

“Cast a rebound,” Lan Wangji says, brisk. The more quickly they are done with this, the better.

Wei Ying’s face falls. “Ah,” he says, “well, we…”

“My cultivation is too weak for him to reliably use,” Jiang Yanli says suddenly. “And I’m not very good at the method, I’m afraid.”

Lan Wangji nods. Steps forward. Then hesitates. “If the curse was cast in such a way, one of you may end up in the caster’s body. And they in yours.”

They all look at Jiang Yanli. Her expression grows grim. “Alright,” she says, then looks to Lan Wangji. There is something steely in her expression that is familiar on Wei Ying’s face. “Thank you for the warning. Go ahead.”

Lan Wangji hesitates only a moment longer, expecting protests from the other two. But Wei Ying is wearing a small, knowing smile, and Jin Zixuan merely nods at her, reassuring. Lan Wangji senses his esteem for the Jin heir rising at such solid trust in his wife. 

He steps forward and casts the rebound. They all hold their breath. 

Wei Ying glances around, his wry expression entirely foreign on Jiang Yanli’s face. “Anything?”

“No,” says Jiang Yanli.

Wei Ying sighs. “More work for us, then.”

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli says, taking gentle hold of his wrist. “You know what this means.”

“Ah?”

“You’ll have to be me.”

“Ah. No, I—”

“A-Xian.”

Wei Ying scratches his head, a not-at-all ladylike gesture. “Or we could just stay in here and let these two investigate?”

The smile Jiang Yanli turns on him is tender, and knowing, and indulgent. “I’d like to see you try to sit still when there’s a puzzle to solve.”

He sighs. “Alright. But you have to be me, too.”

She nods, and theatrically slouches into a sprawling, sloppy posture. Wei Ying laughs, his head thrown back, a hand on his stomach. Jin Zixuan turns around, looking almost ill. 

Lan Wangji understands, and he doesn’t. It is dizzying, and distinctly wrong-looking, to see both of them this way. Yet there is also something endearing about it. About the parts of them that do overlap, and fit into each other better than one would expect. 

“A-Xuan,” Jiang Yanli calls softly, noticing her husband’s distress.

Lan Wangji gets the distinct impression that that tone in Wei Ying’s voice is not helping the situation.

“Jin-gongzi,” he says. “It would be best for all of us to go about our days as normal, and not to arouse suspicion. Wei Ying sleeps late, and will not be missed for the morning. Jin-shao-furen may claim mild illness until the afternoon. But you and I must behave as normal. There are still the other sects to host.”

“Yes,” Jin Zixuan says absently. He runs a hand over his face. “Yes. You’re right. A-Li—” he turns and looks at the pair of them on the bed, and pauses. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “I’ll go back and dress. Join me when—or—Wei—” he stops. “I will be attending my duties. Please let me know what else I can do.”

“Remember to act natural,” Jiang Yanli says. “When A-Xian joins you later, try to look less like a roasted tomato, hmm?”

Jin Zixuan’s mouth twists into a wry smile, and he nods at the floor, then flees the room. Jiang Yanli and Wei Ying turn their eyes to Lan Wangji.

“I shall also depart,” he says. He circles his arms to bow to Jiang Yanli, but Wei Ying stands and pulls him over toward the door. Lan Wangji lets him, and tries not to pull away from the improprietous touch from a married lady. 

“Lan Zhan,” he says, hushed and urgent. “I’m not...you don’t think I’m hurting her, am I? Just by being in here? Can you sense any resentment?”

Lan Wangji feels something tighten in his chest. Wei Ying has not let Lan Wangji so much as examine his pulse since he roused from his coma, but the idea that he is so constantly steeped in resentment as to cause worry that his very soul may be harmful...is distressing. He takes hold of his slender wrist carefully. It is still Jiang Yanli’s body, and he will treat it with the respect it is owed. 

“I cannot,” he says. The only energy in Jiang Yanli’s body is generated by her own small but steady golden core. “I sense nothing that may be harmful.”

Wei Ying lets out a relieved breath. “Alright. But, um. What about the other way? Is her...is my body harming her?”

Lan Wangji turns to go back and perform the same examination, but Wei Ying stops him. “No, that’s alright. I’ll. We’ll just get this over with, and we can. Between the two of us, we can fix whatever...whatever damage I do.”

Lan Wangji stares at him, but Wei Ying refuses to meet his eyes. At length, he nods. “We can.”

“Alright. Ah, thanks. You should go.”

Lan Wangji goes.

[sleepysnk]

a/n: after much brainstorming, i finally have fed your desires for a obito x figure skater reader fic. thank you all for your inspo!! 🤍 i hope you guys enjoy :)

pairings: obito uchiha x figure skater!reader

warnings: canonverse, post war arc, survivors guilt, some angst, mentions of injury, fluff, wholesome content.

The Woman on Ice ft. Obito Uchiha

Obito Uchiha resided in the outskirts of Konoha. For several years, the man chose to keep his presence out of the village he once lived in.

Now, to many of the villagers, this decision was smart and it made everyone comfortable.

Not a single soul inside of the Hidden Leaf could even look Obito in the eyes. Many had hatred and discomfort for the man who caused chaos and destruction to occur over the village. He was also responsible for the deaths of many great shinobi, including the Fourth Hokage.

When the Fourth Great Ninja War ended, there was a lot of distress as to what the village should do with someone like Obito. The people expressed that they weren’t exactly the most comfortable with somebody like him wandering the streets freely. He was a criminal, he could repeat those offenses and possibly cause even more damage than before. The man was considered to be a “threat” to everyone around him, and that he couldn’t be trusted.

Kakashi, being the hokage, decided that he didn’t want his childhood friend to meet his demise. Despite the uproar from the townspeople, he stuck with that decision to have Obito live a quiet life in the forest near the village. Nobody was allowed to be around that area unless authorized by Kakashi himself, and only he knew that location.

Kakashi was well aware that certain shinobi or villagers could hunt down Obito to kill him, so he put in a few precautions. There were several Anbu Black Ops stationed around the forest to prevent anyone from slipping in. It also gave Kakashi eyes on Obito, so, if something suspicious was taking place, he could take care of it.

Obito was extremely relieved when he found out he was going to live, but the idea of being closed off from others made his once warm heart feel cold. The only person he could make contact with was Kakashi, and that was it. It was just him and his isolated cabin in the forest.

At first, adjusting to this new life was hard. Obito had always been a social person. He loved people, and he was an extroverted person prior to all of the events in his life. He knew those days of interaction were now gone, and he was forced to stay locked up inside of a cabin for the rest of his days.

Occasionally, Kakashi would come by to chat with him, but those days were rare. Kakashi was hokage, and he didn’t have all the time in the world to come and talk to his war criminal childhood friend. Obito was lucky that anybody wanted to speak to him.

Being alone for as long as he has, Obito had a lot of time to think about what he’s done. The guilt from his actions constantly plagued him. It kept him awake at night, and he struggled to get a good nights rest. There were days where he questioned why a man like him was left alive. He felt as if he deserved death. He was responsible for many, so why should he get to live?

The thing that haunted him the most was the faces of the villagers who saw him for the first time after the war. The pure disgust and hatred their faces displayed was like a punch in the gut. He could hear the whispers, the mothers hiding their children, he truly felt like a monster.

There was also backlash from the other shinobi living in the village. They practically scolded Kakashi for his decision to keep him alive. Most of them disagreed, and they tried convincing Kakashi to think about the choice a little more thoroughly. In the end, Kakashi dismissed them and said his decision was final.

Obito knew those men were right. How could he keep someone like him alive? He should have died during that war. He didn’t deserve to live a quiet life while there are others suffering from the death of their loved ones; deaths that he caused.

As the months passed, Obito hardly left his cabin unless absolutely necessary. He didn’t like speaking with other people. In fact, he found it difficult to even interact with others. It took so much energy from him, and he pretty much lost any social skills he used to have. The only person he was comfortable speaking with was Kakashi, and that was it.

Sometimes the Anbu could come to speak with him. They usually questioned what he was up to, or if he was in need of anything. Obito hated those conversations, and he often became very grouchy whenever they stayed for too long. All he wanted was to wallow in his guilt, alone.

The days eventually grew shorter. The once long sunny days were now cloudy and cold. The sun hardly coming out, leaving a dreary feeling in the forest. It also opened the doors for sorrowful thoughts. Obito disliked winter, it made him irritable and he could hardly handle his emotions. He felt worse than he already did.

Those winter days felt like they lasted forever, but it was only the beginning.

-

The sun basking through the curtains made Obito look up from the spot he was sitting in. It was the first time he had seen the sun in weeks, and he was a bit surprised. The winter had been cold and long, so seeing the sun felt like a small bit of relief.

He hated how cold his cabin could get sometimes. Though the dark oak wood was thick, the cracks often let the chilly winter breeze slip inside. The only thing that would warm his cabin was the small fire place near the window. It was annoying though, because he had to leave to go and grab firewood.

The other annoying part of that was dealing with the damn Anbu Black Ops. Whenever Obito left his cabin, they’d always trail behind him like he was some kind of jailed inmate. Though, Obito could understand the men and their concerns.

With the sun being out, Obito figured he’d go and take a nice stroll through the forest. Although he hated having to leave the confines of his cabin, he liked being in nature. The calmness of the breeze and the smell of fresh air really put his bad thoughts at ease. He started doing it after he had a really bad episode, and since then it’s really helped him.

Standing up, Obito stretched out his muscles, causing a few of his joints to crack from sitting in his bed for a while. He figured he’d go on a small walk, because he didn’t want to attract attention from the Anbu. Any suspicious activity could cause everything to change for Obito, and he’d rather remain under the radar than in the sights of everyone.

He grabbed his jet-black coat off of the hanger which hung against his wall. The Uchiha crest was stitched into the material. He briefly remembered when Kakashi brought it for him a couple weeks before it got bitter cold outside.

The warmth of the jacket enveloped his body once he zipped it up. Obito turned to head towards his front door. He could feel the cool air from behind it as he placed his hand on the metal door knob. He silently hoped there wasn’t any ice. There was an occasion where he almost slid and he came close to hitting the ground, but he was lucky enough to stop it before he actually did some major damage.

Opening the front door, his eyes squinted from the bright rays of the sun. It was a beautiful day. The bright blue sky was cloudless, and he could hear the sound of birds tweeting in the distance. It had been a while since there was a day this perfect. He thought to himself that he could maybe spend a little longer outside than usual.

He shut the door behind him, stepping onto the dirt path that led into multiple directions. Obito had been in almost every direction possible. He wondered where to go that day.

As he walked down the path, he turned to the right and began to head east. The light breeze caused the cool air to nip at his cheeks and nose. It wasn’t too chilly, but it was enough for him to place his hands into his pockets to prevent them from getting too cold. The sun also helped him in staying warm, considering the black fabric of his jacket absorbed the sunlight.

His walk was quite pleasant. There wasn’t any distracting noise, the weather was nice, it was just Obito and his thoughts. He enjoyed the peace he had sometimes.

Obito stepped down a path that led to a lake that was near his cabin. He often came to it during the summer for a swim, or to watch the calm waters. Believe it or not, but he liked to come there during the night to think about the things going on in his life. He always loved the way the moonlight would sparkle on the water.

He stepped on a few pieces of now broken ice shards that laid on the ground beneath his feet. He knew he was getting close, because there was an increase in the amount of ice on the ground. The air also grew colder and crisp. It was always colder near the lake, and that’s one of the reasons why he liked coming to it during the summer. If it was too hot, then he’d stay by the lake until it cooled down outside.

His ears suddenly perked when he heard a sound coming from the right side. He knew once he turned the corner, the lake would be right there. The sound he heard sounded like scratching. Almost like someone was taking a blade and scratching at the surface of something. He hadn’t heard a sound like that before, and it made him feel defensive. Was somebody following him?

At first, Obito wondered if it was one of the Anbu trailing him. They usually followed him whenever he left the cabin, but he wasn’t sure. Why would someone from the Anbu be making such noises? Obito learned from a young age that the Anbu were skilled ninja that are extremely hard to see with the naked eye. They’re stealthy and sneaky, so why make their position known?

The other thought that crossed his mind was what if somebody had snuck into the forest to find him? Obito knew many people wanted him dead. There were even a few villagers caught one night trying to sneak into his cabin. What if that’s what’s happening?

The sound suddenly stopped for a couple of seconds. Obito furrowed his eyebrows, looking around the area before him to see if someone was hiding in the trees. Instinctively, his sharingan activated, the crimson color taking over his once dark eyeball.

There was definitely a presence nearby, and it was coming directly from the lake.

Obito walked in the direction of the lake. He kept himself hidden just in case the person was trying to get to him. He was skilled, probably more skilled than most shinobi, so he knew what he was doing.

One thing that Obito was always told was to never engage with people who are trying to pursue him. Kakashi warned him of that multiple times, and, for a while, Obito followed suit in that. The Anbu usually took care of any unwanted guests, but Obito was by himself. He didn’t sense any of the Anbu, so he had to take care of this if he had to. He didn’t care about the consequences.

Obito ran behind a tree. It stood directly in front of the now frozen body of water. The sunlight beamed over the ice covered lake, causing it to be brighter than it actually was. It was hard to see, but with his sharingan, Obito could see what was going on.

That same scratching noise started playing again.

Obito knew it was a person. It couldn’t have been an animal making those kinds of noises. He could practically sense the persons movements. He just wasn’t sure on how to approach the situation. Another thing he was wondering was why wasn’t this person detected? The Anbu can sense anybody coming in, so why wasn’t the person taken out yet? Nobody was allowed in or out except Kakashi.

He decided to shift around so he was now crouching behind a shrub. The leaves hid him so he wouldn’t be seen by whoever was out on the lake. Obito knew how to keep himself hidden, so he was prepared to disappear if he had to.

Obito squinted through the openings between the leaves. He could see somebody on the ice. He was right, it was a person, but they were doing something weird on the frozen lake.

The scratching noise he was hearing was from someone gliding against the ice. Obito noticed the person was wearing these odd looking shoes on their feet. They covered the base of their feet, but on the sole there was some kind of sharp object carving against the ice. They also moved incredibly fast, and it was hard for Obito to keep his eyes on them.

Was it some kind of ritual? Were they signaling for someone? He didn’t know what to do.

Obito’s eyes grew slightly wide when he finally saw the persons face. They were clearly a female. They were wearing a tight body suit which was the color of jade. She also wore no bottoms, so her legs were exposed to the outside. Obito wondered how someone like you was not freezing.

He practically jumped when he saw you jump into the air and land perfectly fine on the ice. You were so confident with your movements. He couldn’t detect a single flaw with the way you moved. You were also on ice. Obito could barely keep himself up whenever he used to try and walk on it, but you did it with such ease.

You also didn’t have a chakra signature, which meant you weren’t a shinobi. Obito wondered how the hell you did that without falling.

Meanwhile, you were skating against the ice before you.

You were beyond ecstatic to have been able to find a quiet place to practice your moves. You had spent a long time training yourself to make it to this competition, and you were so excited to finally live it. Living your dreams as a pro figure skater was all you wanted.

So, you decided to practice as much as you could. You snuck away from your teammates and went to find a lake to practice on. You ended up stumbling upon this one after searching for a while. It was perfect, it had the space, the ice was thick enough, and it was a great place for you to focus.

The reason why you were this far from home was because you had a figure skating competition in the Hidden Leaf Village. You had heard many stories about the figure skaters there, and you were ready to show them what you were all about. It also gave you the chance to possibly gain a spot on the team if you tried hard enough, so you wanted to do your absolute best.

Pausing in your movements, you took a second to recover from the huge amount of moving you just did. It was only the middle of the day, so you had to get enough training as possible in before the competition which was in two days.

You took a deep breath before moving your feet against the ice again. This time you wanted to work on your twirls. You did them fairly well, but you figured you’d put in the work for that aspect too. Everything needed to be perfect for the competition.

As you moved, you stuck out your right leg to get yourself ready to spin. The ice covered your blade, and some of it touched your calves. It was cold, but you didn’t care. You had been used to the chilly weather since you were a child.

You were about to get into position to spin, but your movements came to a halt when you heard the sound of a branch snap.

Panicking, you tried to stop your legs, but, unfortunately, you ended up losing your balance and hitting the ice. You also felt the sudden ache of your ankle taking over you, which caused you to hiss in pain. You faced worse injuries, but this really hurt. Your bottom also felt sore from hitting the ice really hard.

You tried to lift yourself, but your ankle was attacked with pain. You couldn’t get yourself up at all, and panic began to set in.

You were out here by yourself, and there probably wasn’t a single person out there for miles.

Behind the bush, Obito had watched you hit the ground. He felt like genuine shit because he was the reason why you fell. He had accidentally moved, and he stepped on a tree branch near his foot. The fall you took looked like it hurt, and you weren’t getting up either. He wasn’t sure what to do.

He could help you, but he wasn’t sure what might happen with the Anbu. He also risked looking like a creep, and he didn’t want to make it seem like he was watching you for some weird perv reasons.

You weren’t exactly his problem. He could easily walk away and leave you there, but something was holding him back from leaving. You were clearly injured, what if someone from the Anbu arrived and thought he hurt you? He already had a bad enough reputation, leaving you there would cause more harm than good. He also would want someone to do the same for him.

Obito let out air through his mouth before standing up, revealing himself. You weren’t that far on the ice. He could easily get to you, and bring you to safety.

You pressed your cold fingertips against your now sore ankle. The muscles were swelling, and you were clearly hurt. This was devastating for you. Your competition was in two days, and being hurt would automatically disqualify you from the show. Fuck, you were so pissed at yourself right now. You shouldn’t have gone out by yourself.

Your head snapped towards the sound of the ice cracking near the edge of the lake. Your eyes landed on someone, more specifically, a man standing before you. He looked like he was approaching you, and he seemed hesitant.

You wondered if he was watching you this entire time. Was he some kind of bandit or something? You didn’t know these woods very well, and you thought it was empty. You were practically helpless sitting there on the ice like that. You also didn’t have much to defend yourself with, unless you beat him to death with your ice skates.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” you swallowed thickly after you spoke. The man before you paused in his movements once your voice reached his ears. You were really hoping you wouldn’t die today.

Obito wasn’t sure how to make himself not seem like a threat. He didn’t want to hurt you. If anything, he wanted to help you out of this situation.

“I’m not going to hurt you! I promise..” he called back, “I have some medical supplies back in my cabin if you’d like to come with me!”

Your eyes narrowed at him. You didn’t know what to do. For one, he could be a genuine man who wants to help you. Maybe he was concerned and he didn’t want to harm you. You had met a few people like that before, and you often reminded yourself to never think pessimistically about people who are offering to help you.

But, there was the possibility that this man was planning to kill you. You were a woman alone by herself in the forest. It didn’t seem like there was anyone around for miles, so he could easily discard your body and that’d be lights out for you. Either of the choices you had were difficult, and you had to make a decision fast.

You shifted around on the ice, causing you to hiss in pain again. “How do I know you’re not going to kill me?!” you chewed on the inside of your cheek from the anxiety you were having.

Obito couldn’t exactly tell you that he could kill you if he really wanted to. He was extremely skilled as a shinobi. If he really wanted to do something bad, he would have made the ice crack and let you drown or freeze in the chilly water. He didn’t have a bad bone in his body for someone he didn’t know.

He sighed, the breath from his mouth fading into smoke. “You’re a complete stranger, I should be asking you why you’re in the woods that I live in. I could have easily killed you for trespassing, but I didn’t. That’s not the kind of person I am,” he looked at you with sincerity coming from his voice. Deep down, he hoped that you’d believe that. It wasn’t like he had much time, because the Anbu could come looking at any moment.

You started to shiver on the freezing ice. The wind was also starting to pick up, and you knew you couldn’t get out of this situation. You were also shocked to find out that he lived in these woods. They were so secluded and empty. It made you wonder why someone would live so far from civilization.

Feeling as if you had no choice, you turned your body to face him. “Okay! Just.. come! My ankle hurts really bad!” you motioned for him to come closer.

Obito was relieved to hear that you were okay with him helping you, but he was also pretty nervous. He felt as if you were a piece of glass. He had to be careful with you, because breaking you would be really bad. He also forgot how to act whenever women came around, so there was that factor.

He pushed away all of those thoughts, and began to make his way towards you. The ice was kind of slippery. It made him question once again how you were able to glide yourself without an issue.

Luckily for him, he had his chakra to help him maintain balance.

Once in front of you, he reached out for your hand. You seemed slightly hesitant, but you reached for him anyway. The warmth of your hand made Obito’s face turn slightly pink. Despite being out in the cold, you felt like a warm blanket. He found that to be quite fascinating.

“Ouch..” you whimpered as he pulled you to your feet. You hopped on your ankle to avoid feeling any pain. You were really hoping it was just a sprain and not a break.

Obito placed his hand on your waist, holding you up so you didn’t fall. He was surprised at how smooth your body suit was. It hugged your body nicely, and it showed off every single one of your curves. He hadn’t seen anything like it before.

“Let me carry you.. the pain will be worse if you walk,” he said, “May I?”

You looked up at him, nodding your head. “Yes, thank you,” you then averted your eyes down at the ice. You felt really embarrassed if you were being honest. This was the first time in a long time that a man was touching you like he was.

A small yelp erupted from your throat as he lifted you off the ground. He held you bridal style, and began to walk towards the edge of the lake. You were surprised at how strong he was. You didn’t expect it at all, but you weren’t complaining. Some people would have just made you walk.

As he walked off the ice, he started to make his way to this dirt path. You vaguely recalled seeing one of those same paths on your way to the lake. You didn’t know there were that many around this area.

“So, um..” he broke the silence between you both, “What’s your name?”

You shifted around in his arms, looking at the leaves below you. “(Y/N).. what about you?” you looked up for a brief moment, taking in the sight of his features.

“It’s Obito,” he replied, “We’re close to my cabin, so we won’t go very far,”

You nodded your head, choosing to not say anything else. You were honestly feeling really awkward at the moment. Sure, you knew his name, but it wasn’t like you knew anything about him. He was a complete stranger. You knew absolutely nothing about this man.

God, you were really hoping you weren’t going to die when you got to his cabin.

Your eyes went to his face. You didn’t really take in his features at first, but you studied them. He looked a little older than you did. He had these scars that lined the left side of his cheeks, and jet-black spiked hair. He also wore a jacket which had a crest on the front of it. It looked like the Uchiha symbol. You had heard so much about their clan from your parents, and you never thought you’d meet one.

But, why was an Uchiha living out in the woods all on his own? Did he hate his life or something?

You didn’t even notice that the two of you were outside his cabin until you heard the sound of a door opening. Your eyes went to look at the dark wood. It looked a little small, but it was enough for one person. He also kept the place nice and clean.

Goosebumps flared on your skin from the warmth wrapping around your body. You were, in fact, only wearing a bodysuit in the middle of winter.

Obito placed you down softly on the chocolate brown couch near the window. You were relieved once you were finally on your bottom. At least you didn’t have to stand, because your ankle was killing you at this point.

“I’ll go grab some first aid,” he stood up, disappearing down a small corridor.

You took a second to take in your surroundings. Nothing seemed suspicious about the place, and it seemed like it was just him. There was a small table with two chairs near the corner of the room, and beside it was a small kitchen. The only light source was from a few candles which sat on the counters. It was cozy, but it also felt lonely.

Leaning against the armrest of the couch, you looked outside the window. Daylight was slipping from your fingers, and fast. You didn’t know how you’d get back to your teammates. The walk from this place to the hotel was pretty far away, and you couldn’t make that journey on your own.

You tensed when you saw Obito appear in the room again. He held a white box in his hand. It looked like he was in a rush too.

He came beside you, sitting down on the edge of the couch so he could assess your aching ankle.

He cleared his throat, looking over at you. “Do you want to take off your shoes..?” he asked, “I need to make sure your whole foot isn’t messed up,”

You stared at him for a brief couple of seconds before nodding your head. “Yeah! Sure..” you reached downward to untie the laces of your skates. You then pulled them off of your feet, exposing your entire foot to him.

Luckily, it didn’t seem like your feet were bad. The only bad part was that your left ankle was slightly swollen, and there was a purple pattern forming on it. It was bruised, but it didn’t seem like it was broken.

Obito placed his cool fingers against your ankle, which caused you to flinch. He halted in his movements in case you were uncomfortable or in pain.

“S-Sorry.. I was just checking if the bone was broken,” he placed the white box on his lap, opening to find an ice pack as well as some pain medication. Kakashi gave it to him in case he ever needed it.

You smiled softly, “No, it’s okay, I appreciate you helping me,”

He looked up at you as he pulled out the ice pack. “It’s not a problem..” he said, “But I have a question,”

You shifted on the couch to get into a more comfortable position. “Go ahead,” you looked at him with a genuine expression.

Obito was surprised at how pretty you were. Your smile kind of cute, but he couldn’t think of things like that. You were just some random girl who he stumbled upon. You didn’t even know who he was, and he really wasn’t going to get into a “get to know you” chat.

He took out a tan colored wrap from his first aid kit. “What were you doing out on the ice like that? How were you moving on it like that?” he lifted your foot slightly so he could start wrapping the bandage around your aching muscles.

Your head cocked to the side at the question. He didn’t know what figure skating was? You were quite surprised to hear that, but not many people were aware of it. Sometimes you found that there were people out there that had no clue about the sport, so you weren’t that shocked.

“Well, I was actually doing something called figure skating. It’s a sport where people can move on the ice with special shoes,” you explained, “Those shoes I was wearing are called ice skates. It’s how I was able to skate on the ice without slipping,”

Obito looked down at your skates. He finally understood why there was a huge metal blade at the end of it. He thought you were wearing those to walk in snow or something, but he was really wrong about that.

He nodded his head, “That’s cool, I’ve never heard of anyone knowing how to skate on ice before. Do you do this often, or?”

You played with the skin of your nails as he finished wrapping your foot. “Yeah! I actually compete in competitions for medals and stuff like that. I’m here in the Hidden Leaf for one actually,” you said, “I hope to make the team here, because it’s been my dream since I was a child. Though, this injury might stop me,”

Obito slowly understood the concept of what figure skating was. He had never heard of it before. It looked really cool from what he had seen, but he was growing worried. What if you didn’t make it onto the team you wanted? You were injured, and that put things in jeopardy.

He needed to make sure you felt fine before your competition.

Obito took the small ice pack, placing it above the wrap on your ankle. You shivered from the cold material touching your skin. It did feel a bit soothing if you were being real.

“You should be fine, it seems like it was just a sprain, so I wouldn’t move for the rest of the evening,” he turned around to grab a bottle of pills, “These help a lot with pain.. I used to take them whenever I had really bad headaches,”

You took the pill bottle from his hand. The tablets moved around, clanking against the plastic container. It sounded like there was a decent amount inside of the bottle, so you were glad you had some pain relief.

Looking up at him, you smiled brightly for his actions. “Thank you, but, I have my competition in a couple of days. What if they come looking? Or.. what if I’m not better before the competition?” a worried tone was heavy in your voice. There was so much that could happen, and you didn’t know what might happen.

Obito placed his hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I think you’ll be okay in time for your competition. Rest as much as possible,” he smiled at you.

His words were enough to calm your nerves. You wondered how someone like him was all ok his own. He seemed like such a kind, genuine soul. How could somebody like him be hidden in these woods all alone? You wished there were more people in this world like him.

You played with the bottle of pills in your hands. “Hey, Obito.. I have a question,” you turned your head to look at him. He seemed to fixing you some tea, because you saw him taking out some tea packets from the cabinet.

He looked back at you for a couple of seconds. “Yeah? What’s up?” he turned to focus his attention back on the tea he was making you.

“Why do you.. live here all on your own?” you raised your eyebrows in curiosity.

You saw the male pause in his movements. He was dead silent now. You could practically hear a pin drop from how quiet it was inside of the cabin. Part of you was slowly regretting asking the question. What if it was too triggering? What if you were intruding on his business? God, curse your stupid brain for being too curious.

Fearing you upset him, you cleared your throat. “I’m sorry.. if that was too much to ask..” you looked down, feeling shameful from his reaction.

“No, don’t worry about it, (Y/N), it’s not too much,” he replied, “I just.. want a quiet life, you know? Away from all of the people, that’s all,”

You nodded your head, choosing to not say anything else. You still felt kind of foolish to ask such a thing, but you were just curious.

Obito then came towards you with a turquoise tea cup in his hand. He held it out for you, which you gladly took. The smell of the tea made your mouth water. It had been a while since you had something to drink. You had been practicing all day, so you didn’t have many opportunities to get a drink.

You sipped the warm tea. It relaxed your tense body, and you started to feel soothed. It was quite a delicious tea too. You’d have to ask Obito about it before you departed.

“Feel free to rest here for tonight. I don’t mind if you stay,” he walked towards the kitchen to grab his own tea cup.

Realistically, you had no choice but to stay there for the rest of the evening. Your ankle was too sore for you to even think about walking on it. Plus, the walk back to your hotel was very long. It wasn’t like this guy was going to escort you back. You could barely get yourself off of the couch without flinching, and there was that chance of you possibly making your ankle worse.

You placed your tea cup on the coffee table beside the couch. You then opened the bottle of pills to take some. You hoped that the pills would make you feel at least somewhat better.

Placing two of the tablets on your tongue, you reached for your tea to swallow the pills. There was a slight bitter taste in your mouth once they went down. They must have started dissolving on your tongue as you swallowed the tea. It was kind of gross.

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything. Just shout, okay?” Obito nodded his head towards the small corridor.

“Wait, before you go..” your voice made him pause in his movements.

Obito nodded his head to the side. “What’s up? Is everything okay?” he furrowed his eyebrows with curiosity on his features.

You looked at him with this sweet expression. It was enough to make Obito feel butterflies in his belly. “Thank you.. for everything, I know you didn’t have to help me, but I appreciate you more than words can describe,” you played with your nails as you spoke, feeling slightly bashful.

Obito’s face turned a light shade of pink from your words. Your voice was smooth like honey, and he thought you were the prettiest person he’s ever seen. You were so pure, he couldn’t believe people like you still existed.

“Of course, you don’t have to thank me,” he replied, “Let me get you a change of clothes before you rest. I wouldn’t want you catching a cold,”

You smiled at the gesture. “Thank you, Obito, really..” you looked down at the floor, then at him.

He disappeared down the hallway again, leaving you by yourself. There was something about Obito that made you feel nervous. He was flattering, and really handsome if you were being honest with yourself. He seemed so selfless, and it was such an admirable trait of his.

You wished you could spend a little longer with him.

-

Your eyes slowly fluttered open as the sound of birds chirping filled your ears. There was also a soft yellow glow that filled the room, which made you stir around in your sleep.

It took you a few moments, but you finally adjusted to the area around you. The room was slightly unfamiliar, but the memories from the previous day began to flood into your brain. You were still staying with Obito, but you weren’t sure what time it was.

Shifting around on the couch, your head turned to look outside the window. It looked like the sun had barely just rose out of the sky. You knew it was probably going to be a really beautiful day, and that excited you. You yearned for those lovely winter mornings where the air was crisp, and the sun was high in the sky.

Turning your ankle, you realized there was little to no pain in your muscles. The pain meds Obito gave you must have really done the trick, which made you even more happier. You were going to be fine for the competition, and your dream of making the Hidden Leaf Figure Skating Team was still alive.

You were also wearing Obito’s clothes. Before you fell asleep, he gave you one of his sweaters and a pair of his shorts. They were kind of big on you, but it felt extremely cozy. You also had a nice thick blanket covering you too, so you slept really nice.

Sitting up, you pulled the blanket off of your body, placing your feet on the cool wooden floor. It was completely still and quiet inside of the cabin. Obito must have been still sleeping, so you figured you wouldn’t wake him up. He deserved the sleep, especially after what he did for you yesterday. You didn’t know what you’d do to thank him, but you really appreciated him.

You lifted yourself off of the couch, and started walking towards the kitchen. This was also a small test to see if you could actually walk on your ankle. It seemed like it was perfectly fine, which was a complete relief.

Your eyes landed on the tea box which sat on the counter. You figured you’d make yourself a cup, as well as Obito.

Meanwhile, Obito was laying in his bed. He had barely just woken up from his slumber. It had to be pretty early in the day, because the sun was still peaking through the curtains; its golden rays basking against the wall. He still felt pretty lazy, but he knew he had to wake up eventually.

He also realized that you were still there. He almost completely forgot that you had spent the night with him, so he figured he’d go and check up on you. Obito was aware that you needed to leave today, so he wanted to get you ready as soon as possible.

He dreaded it, but you had your own life and he had his.

Obito sat up in his bed, stretching out his joints and his muscles. He then placed his feet on the floor, shivering slightly from the cold floor making contact with his warm skin.

Standing up, he headed towards his bedroom door and opened it. The faint aroma of herbal tea filled his nose. He wondered if you were already awake, because he knew he didn’t leave any tea out from the previous night. If you were awake and walking, that must have meant your ankle was fine.

At least he hoped so.

Obito walked through the hallway towards the living room and kitchen. His eyes landed on where you were standing. You seemed to be mixing something in one of his tea cups. Had you gotten up and made some tea for yourself? If that was the case, that was a good sign. You were feeling better, which was all he wanted.

He yawned, which caused you to turn around and face him. “Good morning, Obito!” you smiled brightly at him, “I hope you don’t mind.. but I made you and I some tea.. I was feeling kind of thirsty this morning, and I felt like I wanted to repay you for last night,”

His heart practically leaped out of his chest. You were so kind to him. You didn’t need to do any of that, yet you did. God, Obito thought you were an angel sent from the heaven’s above.

He stepped over so he was now standing right beside you. “Thank you, (Y/N), you’re very sweet. I appreciate the gesture,” his cheeks turned pink as he spoke to you.

Your hand raised to touch his arm. “Of course! You deserve it! I couldn’t leave without thanking you,” you giggled.

Your touch sent tingles along Obito’s skin. It was something he hadn’t felt before. He wasn’t alarmed by it, no, but he was surprised at how good it felt. You were making him feel something for once. He wished more people like you existed around Konoha. Your beauty, your smile, your laugh, it was all perfect to Obito.

He stared at you for a few moments, taking in your features. It pained him knowing that you had to leave him. You probably wouldn’t ever see each other again, and you would continue your lives without remembering this moment.

He dreaded that, but it was a reality he had to face.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he reached over to grab his tea cup. “Speaking of leaving..” he started, “We should get you ready before your teammates get suspicious. You have to practice for that competition,”

You slowly remembered that your competition was tomorrow, and you knew you had to get a ton of practice in. That, and your coach would probably rip you a new one for wandering off without informing him.

“Right! I’ll gather my stuff and I’ll be out of your hair soon,” you walked out of the kitchen towards the couch where your items were. Your suit was folded up, and your skates were right beside the coffee table.

Obito watched you as you gathered all of your things. He couldn’t help but think about how great of a woman you were. You’d make someone really happy someday, and he was very confident about that.

You turned around, looking at him awkwardly. “Um, do you want your clothes back?” you nodded your head to the side.

He almost choked on his tea. He cleared his throat so he wouldn’t. “N-No! Don’t worry about it, I have plenty. It’s also very cold outside, so you need to stay warm,” his tone was reassuring.

You tossed all of your things into the small bag you brought with you. Being honest, you were kind of sad that you had to leave. Obito was a very sweet man, and having to depart from his presence was making you melancholic.

You swung your bag over your shoulders, scanning the room to make sure you didn’t leave anything behind. You also took a second to slip into the walking shoes you brought with you. Your feet were kind of sore, and you didn’t want to trip over yourself with your skates.

“Before you go..” you turned around to see Obito standing behind you. He had a bottle in his hand, which showed the pills he previously gave to you. “Make sure you take some of these with you just in case,”

You took the bottle from him, smiling at the act of kindness. “Thank you, Obito, you’re such a good and amazing person. You deserve the best,” you played with the bottle, causing the pills to shake around against the plastic.

Quietness filled the room, this was the hard part. You both had to leave each other, but neither of you wanted that. You wished you could spend more time with him, but your competition was important. You couldn’t give that up for him. He probably didn’t see you like that anyway.

Obito watched you head towards the door. He could feel the dull ache forming in his chest from the scene unfolding in front of him.

“See you later, Obito,” you turned to wave at him before walking out of his cabin, the door shutting with a click.

His hand drooped to his side as you walked out of his home. You were gone, and that’s the last time he’d ever see you.

Being honest, Obito didn’t know why he was so upset about you leaving him. He barely knew you at all, and the two of you were strangers. All he did was patch up your wounds, so why did he feel sad about you? Deep down, he knew that you probably only saw him as a man who helped you. There was no spark, well, maybe you didn’t feel it as much as he did.

Maybe it was the fact that you actually saw Obito as a person. You didn’t give him those smug looks the people in the Hidden Leaf gave him. You said he was a good person. Nobody had ever said that to him, and it made him feel something for once. He wasn’t a robot anymore. You cracked that hollow shell inside of him, and let light shine through the dark space. He truly felt something being around you.

Sniffing, he turned around to clean up the tea cups. You were gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

-

It was the official day of your competition, and you were extremely nervous.

The knot in your gut was tight. You knew this was your chance to show the Hidden Leaf judges that you were worth joining their figure skating team. If you messed this up, there was no more opportunities for you to try again. It’s what bothered you the most, but it was also your biggest motivation.

You were currently in the locker room getting ready. There was about ten minutes left before you hit the ice, and you were doing some extra preparations. You made sure your laces were on extra tight, and your outfit was straight and smooth. First impressions were always everything.

“You’re going up soon, (Y/N)! Be ready!” your coach called, leaning over to look at you.

You turned your head to look at him. “Got it!” you called back, standing up to get ready. You could feel your heart leaping inside of your chest. You felt like you were going to throw up if you were being honest.

Your mind started to wander to Obito, again.

For the past couple of hours, your mind couldn’t shake the thoughts about him. Your mind couldn’t erase the memories of the few hours you shared together. It was short, but it meant so much to you and you wanted to relive it all over again. The lecturing from your coach was worth it, because you got to spend your time away with someone you felt comfortable with.

You really missed him, but you didn’t want to say it out loud.

“(Y/N)! Come here!”

The sound of your coach’s voice booming made you jump out of your skin. You wobbled your way to the small room he was standing in. He had a small smile on his features, which made you confused.

“Yes? What’s going on?” you nodded your head to the side with curiosity written all over your features.

He turned around, pointing at the most beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting on the wooden table. “Looks like you have a little fan. These were dropped off for you,” he said.

Your eyes grew wide in shock. Who could have given you such a beautiful gift? The flowers were lovely, the crimson colored roses popped out and they smelled amazing. They looked like they were freshly picked too.

“Wow.. these are amazing,” your fingers brushed against the soft petals, which felt like silk beneath your fingertips.

Your coach pulled a piece of folded paper off of the bouquet. “There’s a small note, you should read it,” he tapped your shoulder before walking out of the room for you to have some privacy.

You picked up the piece of paper, lifting it up to see what was written. Your eyes began to scan over the letters, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter from the sweet words.

(Y/N),

I picked these for you because you remind me of fresh roses. Your beauty is stunning, and you bring in so much love and happiness in every room you enter.

Good luck today, I hope you make it onto the team. You’re talented, so I know you’ll make it.

With love,

Obito.

[sserpente]

A/N: That Hyundai ad hit different. *chuckles*

Words: 3097 Warnings: kidnapping, hostage

New York smelled pretty bad, come to think of it. You had almost forgotten the hustle and bustle of this huge city that never slept and if there was one thing you had not been missing at all after spending a few months in Morocco for work, it was the constant traffic jams.

It was hot, unbearably so. You’d been a sweating mess ever since your cab driver had picked you up at the airport and the fact that the air conditioning in the cab was broken didn’t exactly help with that. Your thighs stuck to the leather of the backseat, your forehead glistening and your make-up… well, it used to be make-up.

The cab driver seemed nice, at least and since the long snake made entirely of cars had not moved for at least an hour now, he had offered to park on the side of the road and get you both a bottle of water. Ironically, you were only a few yards away from Stark Tower.

Perhaps you shouldn’t complain about the traffic jam. Half of the city was a mess after the atrocious battle you had been fortunate enough only to have witnessed on the news on the plane. You could only hope that your tiny studio flat was still intact and quite frankly, it was short of a miracle that a cab service had actually agreed on picking you up so shortly after an almost-war—not to mention that the plane had actually landed.

You sighed, brushing a strand of hair sticking to your cheek out of your face. You were unbelievably tired—even more so knowing that you had dodged a catastrophe that would go down in history all thanks to work. Your eyes fell shut and you leaned against the car window when suddenly, the driver’s door was all but yanked open and someone who certainly did not resemble your cab driver, started the car and clutched at the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.

Your lips parted. Shackles and a muzzle, along with a blue glowing cube landed on the passenger seat with a loud clatter, followed by an annoyed groan. It was him. The man who had attempted to take over the entire planet only moments ago, he was here in this car and he was currently kidnapping you with it.

A scream escaped your lips, a mixture of shock and fear spreading in your body and fuelling the rising amount of adrenaline. It was only then the God of Mischief glanced at the rear-view mirror and spotted you there panicking—but by then, he had already stirred the car back on the road, straight towards the traffic jam.

“You… you are… Let me out! Let me out at once!” You screeched, the heat around you—along with your miserable appearance—all but forgotten. Loki rolled his eyes. Great. Another mortal.

“I am not stopping this car,” was all he said. Your eyes widened in utter shock.

“Then don’t! Fuck!” Danger was radiating off of this man like heat from an active volcano; so if necessary, you would jump out of the moving car as well. Biting your lower lip and wondering if you should go through with this risky stunt at the speed he was going, the wheels squeaking over the asphalt with every abrupt turn he took, or if that would be a suicide mission. It was probably the latter, and when you reached for the handle of the back door, it took the God of Mischief only a mere second to lock it, trapping you inside.

“Let me out! Let me out!”

“You’ll kill yourself.” Loki spat. You did not miss the patronising tone in his voice—stupid. He believed you stupid.

“And if I stay in here with you I won’t?” You retorted hysterically. And it was justified, really—for when your gaze drifted back to the road ahead of you, you could see him racing straight towards a long line of cars waiting for the traffic to clear up.

“Watch out! The other cars, watch out! Oh my God…” You screamed, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your face with your arms but the imminent crash never came. When you opened your eyes again, Loki had all but moved through the other cars as if by magic. God, what was this, Harry Potter?

With your heart in your mouth, you brought your trembling hands to your thighs and pressed down on them in a desperate attempt to fight off the panic attack rising within you like the forthcoming eruption of a volcano.

But even when you reached the suburbs, ironically moved closer to your home, and the car finally slowed down to a reasonable speed, making you wonder how a god from another realm knew how to drive a car in the first place, your dread kept growing steadily. What would happen once Loki decided he had reached his destination? What would he do with you? Would you end up as another casualty? You’d know where he was, after all, and only God knew how he had managed to escape after the Avengers reported his capture—not to mention that he was in the possession of that mysterious blue cube you were certain bore even more chaos and destruction in the wrong hands.

“I take it this vehicle is supposed to be a means of transport in exchange for payment?” He suddenly said.

“What?” You gaped at him, swallowing. “Yes! I mean, yes, it’s a taxi. That’s… I was…”

“Where do you live?”

“Excuse me? What, are you going to drop me off and expect me to tip you?”

Loki smirked. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why but he did like your feistiness. “I need a place to hide.”

“What… no! No! I am not giving shelter to a criminal!” You snarled, swallowing your fear of him—and then you made the mistake of peeking at the navigation system the taxi driver had set up next to the steering wheel, with your address on bright display to show Loki exactly where he’d have to go.

The God of Mischief tilted his head. “You don’t have much choice in the matter, my dear.”

You took a deep shaky breath, digging your nails into the backseat. If your lower lip was trembling, you didn’t notice. “P-please… please just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone where you are or where you went. Please.”

“I am not going to kill you if that is what you are worried about.” He replied after a long pause. When you said nothing, too stunned and scared to come up with another snarky comment, silence spread in the car like wildfire.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you closed your eyes, hoping that this was a bad joke, a terrible nightmare and any moment now, you would wake up safely on the plane, yet to land in half-destroyed New York City—but the end of slumber never came. You were wide awake; even more so when, after what felt like hours, Loki finally stopped the car. Of course, you had not noticed him observing you repeatedly through the rear-view mirror, almost as if to check if you were still alive.

Your eyes met and then, finally, he unlocked the doors. Only now, you did not move an inch. You had no idea what to expect if you stepped out of this car.

Naturally, Loki disagreed with your cautious decision. He yanked the car door open when he saw you frozen in place, grabbing your upper arm so fast you didn’t even have a chance to react, and all of a sudden, seeing the entrance door of the apartment building you lived in did not at all look as appealing as it had at the airport anymore.

His grip around your arm was firm but when you whined in pain, the God of Mischief actually softened it—if only a little, barely noticeable.

“Unlock the door, my dear, will you?” He inquired, smiling sweetly at you. Right beneath the surface, you could hear that there would be dire consequences if you failed to comply.

Surely at this point, he could hear your rapid heartbeat. Shaking, you fumbled for the keys in your bag until they were jingling in your palms all the while Loki watched you like a hawk. You had dismissed calling the police on your phone in the car already—for now.

Fuck, you had been kidnapped. You were about to be held hostage in your own flat, or… or… was he just going to enter and kick you out? Had he been lying about not killing you? Would he fling a dagger at you any moment now like you had seen him do on TV?

Loki followed you when you approached the door and unlocked it clumsily. One floor up and to the left. For just a brief moment, you wondered what would happen if you started screaming bloody murder, alerting your neighbours but even when you opened your mouth to attempt it, not a single sound would escape your lips.

Even a little further out and farther away from the centre of New York City, rent prices were horrendous. Your salary was not bad but your apartment was no more than a small studio equipped with a humble kitchen, a separate bathroom with a tiny shower and lastly, your double bed in the centre of the room, posing as your sofa during the day.

Loki looked around unimpressed when he entered. “Well… it will do.”

“N-now what?” You choked out.

Loki raised his eyebrows, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Right—because that was going to be so easy. He sighed and rolled his eyes when you only stared at him in horror.

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

“W-would you? You tried to subjugate our planet like ten minutes ago!”

“And for good reason too. This realm is lawless, your people slaughter each other day in and out and you feel threatened by me? I would have given you a new purpose.”

He had a point… but… “And what is that so-called purpose? Slavery?” Loki’s expression darkened, making you flinch back.

“S-sorry… I’ll… I’ll be i-in the bathroom taking a shower. Please just… I mean… whatever.” Would he stop you? Hesitating, you made your way to the bathroom, waiting for him to yank you back, press you against the wall and threaten you? Threaten you with what, exactly? Could you trust that he wouldn’t kill you? Loki felt like a ticking time bomb in your flat.

But a painful yank never came and when you locked the bathroom door behind you, you exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled, trying to process the fact you had a war criminal in your home.

Once you had gathered enough energy to do what you had come to the bathroom for and, an hour later, returned to the main room, Loki was sitting on your bed cross-legged, the Tesseract right before him, glowing away.

“I roamed your ‘kitchen’”, he said without glancing up to meet your eyes, “Do you have anything edible at all?”

“I was away for a whole month.” You argued. “I haven’t done any shopping yet because I was kidnapped by a space Viking.”

Loki smirked. Amused, he finally looked up. “Well, perhaps I should take you back to Asgard with me then. I could use a diligent little servant.”

Your reaction did not disappoint him. Chuckling to himself, he slid off the bed more elegantly than you could ever muster, the Tesseract disappearing into nothingness.

“What I am trying to say is that even gods need to eat and I am, quite frankly, starving.”

“That sounds like a you-problem.” You grumbled. And then, as if on cue, your stomach growled. Damn it.

“Fine. I’ll order some pizza.”

-

Loki had all but watched you like a hawk upon calling the local pizza place. Everything inside of you had screamed to let them know about your predicament, to beg them to call the police and send them to you instead of the pizza.

But as soon as the food was delivered, the mood in your apartment changed so rapidly it left you wondering if the only reason for Loki’s world domination attempt had been his hunger. The man devoured a family-sized pizza in but what felt like two minutes and, upon realising you were done with yours, leaving three pieces in the box, he devoured those as well. And never before had you seen someone eat pizza so gracefully.

It didn’t exactly make it feel like you had been kidnapped anymore. Perhaps… perhaps he hadn’t been lying about not wanting to kill you after all. Perhaps he wasn’t as evil as you… no, stop. He had literally just tried to take over the planet!

“What are you pondering on, little mortal?”

You shivered, the nickname affecting you in a way it truly shouldn’t, especially after he had lost his armour and magically exchanged it for more casual clothes—they still looked like they were from a different time period altogether but it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as before.

“W-why did you really do it?” You found yourself asking. It was a risk—but you were feeling braver now that your stomach was full even though part of you was surprised you had managed to eat at all.

“What?”

“Why did you really try to take over the planet? Did you… do you really want to enslave us all?”

“A lack of freedom does not equal slavery. It offers protection from failure and bad choices.” He said. You frowned.

“You truly believe that?”

“You fight wars over opinions, religions and race among your own species. Your choices are suffocating the whole of Midgard. I would have changed that.”

“You can’t be serious.”

You looked down, reaching for the sweet treat that had come with your pizza to stop your fingers from trembling.

“What is that?”

“Oh, uh… those are marshmallows. This pizza place always packs them with your order, don’t ask me why.”

“What’s that?” He repeated, frowning at the plastic wrapper.

“It’s candy…”

“Well, it doesn’t look very natural.”

Woah. How had this conversation just gone from “humans should not have freedom of choice” to “marshmallows look unhealthy”?

“They’re… I mean they’re not. They’re made of pure sugar and artificial flavouring.”

“Then why do you eat them?”

“Because… because they taste good?”

Loki gave you a taunting look. See? It said. This is what I meant.

But when you opened the package and handed it to him, he took one out nonetheless. It looked tiny between his long fingers—as tiny as you must have looked next to him.

You gulped when it disappeared between his lips. When you reached out to take the package back, he snatched it away from you.

“They are quite delicious, actually.” Your jaw dropped when he popped them all into his mouth at once, winking at you. Not quite sure how to react to this, you averted your gaze, taking a feigned interest in your digital alarm clock on the nightstand instead.

It was only 5 PM but you were positively ready to pass out. Where would you even sleep tonight? Where would he sleep? Would he even sleep?

“You are tired.” He suddenly stated as if on cue. He couldn’t read your mind… right? He did have that weird cube of his, after all.

“Well, yeah… I got kidnapped, experienced a live remake of ‘Fast and Furious’ and I have a criminal in my flat.”

“I only understood half of what you just said but I can ensure you that I will not harm you when you sleep.” There it was again, that frown that almost made it look like he was offended. As if the very circumstance of him hurting an innocent for no reason other than malice insulted him.

“So by all means, retire to bed.” He went on, gesturing to the bed and eventually, standing up to make space for you. The pizza boxes disappeared in but a green shimmer of light and you watched Loki, albeit still suspicious, heading over to the small kitchen table. To be quite frank, it was the last thing you remembered.

-

Loki was gone, no trace of him left. It was as if he had never even been here. It was already past noon—the exhaustion from your flight as well as the racy car drive and last but not least, your shining time as a hostage had worn you out to the point you didn’t even remember falling asleep anymore.

You only realised now that it was your doorbell that had woken you up. Jumping out of bed and moaning when your vision turned black for a moment, you headed over to your speaker and pressed the button. Perhaps it was Loki. Perhaps he had locked himself out but then again… would he not be able to magic himself back in? Why had he insisted on you unlocking the door yesterday in the first place? You shook your head.

“Hello?”

“Hi. This is Henry, I’ve got your delivery.” A boyish voice responded.

“W-what delivery? I didn’t order anything.”

“You did, ma’am, would you come open the door, please?”

You sighed. “Fine, I’ll be down in a second.”

You had fallen asleep in your clothes from last night, so one quick glance in the mirror was all you had before you headed back down and opened the main entrance door.

The delivery boy was holding both your suitcase and a jumbo-size package of marshmallows in his hands. Big marshmallows—the bonfire kind, to be precise.

“Who…” But you knew. You knew the moment you made the connection and knew the moment you looked straight into Henry’s eyes and noticed them glowing unnaturally blue when he handed the items to you.

It had not been a dream then. Loki had really been here. You had been eating pizza with the God of Mischief and now… the gesture was almost sweet. Was that his way of saying thank you? For what? You hadn’t exactly done much except for trembling in fear.

“He instructed me to tell you that you will meet again soon.” Henry announced and then, before you even had a chance to respond, he turned on his heel, hopped back into the delivery van parked in front of the building and left. You only realised now that the Hyundai taxi was gone too.

[tooruluv]

Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ ...and then there’s you. ❞

description: you and bakugou have hated each other since childhood. through the constant bickering, fighting, and actual fist fights... you had no idea that you had been writing to him.

genre: angst, soulmate au where you have a notebook that you can write to your soulmate in

word count: 3.8k

warnings/notes: strong language, lots of angst, aged up characters, bakugou being bakugou, reader has an air manipulation quirk created as part 1 of 3 for my winner of my tooruluv2kparty contest @katsulovee​ <33

teaser | part 2

| masterlist

“ ‘cause when the sun goes down, someone’s talking back ” - talking to the moon, bruno mars

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

The storm only escalated, casting the sky in deep blues and greys. Loud rain clattered against the roof of your apartment building, the ceiling of your top floor apartment being the only thing that separated you from the pour. 

The rain may be cold, but you were on fire.

You had been livid all day, positively outraged by the man who seemed to always be in your way. He was the most arrogant, most opinionated, and most… loud-mouthed person you ever met. You were screaming from the inside out, burning with rage.

Groaning, you sprawled out on your bed.

Katsuki Bakugou was the biggest fucking issue on the planet. His absurd need to be the best at everything he did, his cold demeanor and venom that spews from his mouth -- you wanted nothing more than to punch him directly in the throat. 

With a deep breath, you flipped open your Soulmate Journal. 

The world was such a strange place, full of quirks and criminals and heroes and villains. To add on top of that, when you turn thirteen a journal just… appears. And whoever is your soulmate can read everything you write. Once they read it, they can reply or talk to you that way and the ink disappears. There are plenty of rules that go along with it, like if you turn thirteen before your soulmate does, the ink is red until they receive their own journal. Or how the journal itself is indestructible. Or the biggest rule: you cannot write any given name. 

When you’re thirteen, your life is full of hope and wishful thinking. Almost everyone at that age is excited to start writing to their Person, the one who they were supposed to be created to be with. You were surprised when you opened yours to find nothing written.

You assumed that you were a bit older than your soulmate, but that was quickly shut down as you wrote in black ink. Your soulmate hadn’t written anything. 

It took two months for him to write back. Two months of your excessive writing and nearly diary-like entries. Two months of you wondering if they would ever write back. Until he did.

Today sucked.

That was all you wrote, your past two months of writing still ever present and glaring at you with smudges and hinted annoyance. The ink started to fade like Harry talking to Tom Riddle, reappearing with new handwriting.

It was scrawled across the page with terrible handwriting, very much one of a middle school boy. 

Life sucks. Deal with it.

You were now twenty two, an adult and that once hope and love has turned into pessimism and indifference. And life still sucked. 

You were pretty famous, your air manipulation quirk one that catches a lot of attention. That, alongside your rivalry with the second most famous hero Bakugou, brought an abundance of recognition. Bakugou completely steals your thunder every chance he has, stealing your light and victories. 

You hated him. With the utmost disrespect, you hated him. Since your days in the hero academy, the two of you were at each other’s throats. He would even stop in the middle of antagonizing Deku to make some horrendous comment towards you instead. 

You ended up scribbling along the Soulmate Pages, heated rage boiling with each word.

Hey Honey! I need to vent if that’s okay.

Of course.

You would not believe the shit I have to endure in real life. I wish I could describe the hatred I have for this man I work with, he’s a real piece of shit. Anyway, how was your day?

My day was about the same as yours, living with the idiots of real life. If we could write names I would because there’s this bitch I work with that I fucking hate.

Maybe we need new jobs (insert laughing face even though I’m livid right now)

Yeah. Maybe. But we’ll get through it.

It took years for your soulmate to warm up to you. The first interactions were hesitant, slow, and barely considered conversations. But now you can discuss your day as if you were texting a friend, talk about your likes and dislikes. 

He was your soulmate after all.

You learned that he was a boy and an only kid, he had a strong quirk, and that he liked ramen. He was a rule follower and his handwriting always used proper punctuation. You told him all about your life and how you wanted to travel away from everything.

You wanted to know who he was, more than anything. 

You wished you could tell him your name and quirk, where you lived and who you were. You wished he could do the same. 

You’ve tried, of course, to write out your name and location. But the second the words were written onto the page, they turned into a random assortment of letters. Gibberish. Never to be written, never to be known.

“Dude, fucking relax!” You rubbed your temple at your desk, voice spitting venom against Bakugou’s loud vocals. “Not everything is about you, just sit down and wait to be sent on a mission.”

“What did you say to me?”

Katsuki Bakugou had been going on and on about how Deku got assigned to a mission in upper Japan, sent to work with a separate force for a bit to expand his horizon. He was outraged, yelling and standing tall and broad to pretend to be bigger than he was. 

You were doing paperwork, trying to concentrate despite his yelling and complaining and bitching. You were hovering above your seat with your legs crossed, papers scattered (it was a habit of yours, to just kind of hover a couple of inches off the surface of things; air manipulation and all that). 

“I said,” You turned to look into his ablaze eyes. “Sit down and wait. Not everything is about you.”

You only threw fuel into his fire, you could hear the sparking between his fingers. You turned back to your paperwork. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, you’re not even in the top five heroes.” Bakugou barked in your direction. You could feel his heat as he approached your desk. “You can sit and do your own paperwork all you want! I need to be put on serious cases, just like stupid Deku is always placed on.”

“You can argue with me all you want.” You moved to continue your work, pretending to be unbothered. You could feel the anger boil in your chest. “But you still are and will always be measly little number two. Now shut the fuck up, you’re interrupting those who are actually working.”

He was going to hit you, you knew he was. You two ended up fist fighting all the time, oxygen and explosions ending in destruction. Before he could, your boss walked in with a bellowing, “Bakugou! Get over here, I have something for your loud ass!”

You decided to give him a bored middle finger as he walked away.

They say that words are the way of life. You could say an infinite amount of words and sentences in your lifespan, you could say a word and only ever say it one time. Each assortment of words are different each time, something new every day. 

You figured that’s why you hated the soulmate thing. 

Finding your soulmate should be one of chance, of pure coincidence and meeting of strangers. With the journal, you are starting something you only hope to find. You could go your whole life without finding your soulmate.

And that is terrifying.

There are horror stories of writing to an endless notebook, sad movies created where the lettering turns back to red before they’ve found each other. You wanted nothing more than to meet and just… be with the man you’ve been writing to since you were thirteen.

It seemed to be some sick joke, a tease in the palm of your hands.

When you were young, you attended UA High. It was meant to be the best school for heroes, grooming them into the best of the best. Both of your parents had been heroes themselves, your mom with a cloud quirk and your dad with wings. You took after a bit of both, no wings and no clouds but could create air currents and manipulate the air surrounding you within a certain radius. It has something to do with your breath and lungs, but you never looked too much into the actual DNA aspect. 

When you arrived in the hero program, you passed the tests with ease. You tried to focus mainly on yourself and gaining your own points, alongside a couple of students with the same idea. 

You were pissed when you were placed in 1-B instead of 1-A. It was the start of your rivalry with the explosion boy. 

Luckily, you quickly gained friends. You actually seemed to have a soft spot for Hitoshi Shinsou, and you and Itsuka Kendou seemed to be the only two with brains (this led to many conversations resulting in shit talking and giggling). So in the end, you weren’t too upset to be placed in the second best class. 

And you did get to fight with Bakugou a lot more without punishment, your professor wanting to be number one as much as anyone else. 

One particular day that you remember to this day, one that really labeled your hatred for Bakuogu, was just a normal day at first. You were finished with your normal morning classes and just beginning the hero portion of the day, the training and fighting. 

Your class was working with Class 1-A for the day, teaming up with one of their students and seeing how your quirks would act both against and with each other.

You were, of course, teamed with Bakugou.

The fucker was already set in his ways, loud and in need of attention at all times. You were well aware of his… loud personality… at that point, being beside Shinsou when he called your class “extras”. He was already someone you wanted nothing to do with. 

“Good luck.” Kendou muttered to you when your names were announced as partners. “See ya.”

The second you headed to him, you could feel his apprehension. He wanted nothing to do with you. And you wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, you were hoping for Uraraka as your partner, wanting to see how your air manipulation would work with her gravity. 

Apparently the professors wanted to see the oxygen working with the burst of flames. Which, honestly, is cool yes — but it was the person behind the explosions that you did not want to be a part of.

Bakugou was not one to mumble under his breath. 

“Why am I paired with you?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “I could at least be with someone interesting like Mind Control over there.”

You already wanted to punch him. “You’ve obviously never seen my quirk.”

“Clearly it hasn’t been interesting enough to be worth my attention.”

“Say that again when I remove the oxygen straight from your lungs.” You threatened, knowing damn well you didn’t know how to do that yet. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He let out a long exhale, moving into position. You were already flying by the time he let off his first explosion.

His utter disrespect for you and your quirk not only irritated you, but only was the start of a long term competition on Who Can Be Better Than Who that lasted the rest of your time at UA.

Through the constant loud arguments, the yelling in the cafeteria and the comments just loud enough for the other to hear, the fist fights and the swearing that was reserved only for each other, you found comfort in talking to your soulmate. It was relaxing after a long day of pure annoyance and shit talking to finally just get to have normal conversations with someone you enjoy. 

Are we allowed to ask about school in this thing?

I don’t think so.

I’m sighing. Pretend that you could hear my sigh.

Wow, that was a loud sigh.

YOU’RE FUNNY! Anyway, I really want to know if we go to school together :(((

I don’t even think we can talk about JRTPD or BO::SOMD. See, they turn into gibberish.

 I mean… we can say school. So we can ask ABOUT school just not… specific schools. 

That’s true. I go to a special school and am the best in my class. You’re getting lucky by having me as a soulmate.

Well I would only hope so. Need a smart soulmate for fun facts.

Fun fact: you’re pretty cool. I guess.

Ah, the admission of your love for me.

Not love. I don’t hate talking to you if that does anything for you.

The one person you don’t hate. I’ll take it, Soulmate.

Don’t push it.

We should give each other nicknames. Since we can’t call each other by our real names.

Does the book allow it?

My parents did it before they found each other.

Okay. Like what?

I can call you Hot Head, because you’re hot and because you are always writing about how mad you are.

No.

I can always go with something cute like Honey.

This is gross. I was thinking like gamer tag nicknames.

Okay, Honey.

I take back what I said, asshole.

Honey and Asshole. The perfect pair. We could solve crimes!

I’m going to bed now.

Goodnight Honey ♡ I know that you aren’t reading these but you will in the morning. Dork.

“Do you know who your soulmate is?” You asked.

You were hanging out with Kendou, Monoma, and Shinsou in Kendou’s bedroom. The dorm rooms were all set up the exact same way, but for some reason Kendou’s always seemed to be bigger. 

“No idea.” Monoma shrugged. “I don’t think I want to know until I’m older, we’re too young and I want to focus on graduating first.”

“He’s right.” Kendou twisted in her position on her bed. “Why? Do you want to know who yours is?”

“I want to know more than anything.” You sighed. Your head was laid across Shinsou’s lap on the floor. “We get along so well and I try to talk to him every day.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He told me.” You laughed. “We tried really hard to narrow it down as much as possible.”

“It sounds like he wants to know you too.” Kendou said. She giggled. “I should ask my soulmate their gender.”

“What about you, Shinsou?”

“I barely write to mine.” He shrugged, making your head tilt a little. “I’m sure they understand.”

“I’m sure they do, they were made to be yours.” You looked up at him with a smile. “Of everyone, I thought you would write the most.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because most people are scared to talk to you in real life.”

He flicked your forehead. “You aren’t scared to talk to me.”

“I’m not scared to talk to anyone.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You sighed and closed your Soulmate Journal, the rain now casting a dark shadow across the entirety of the sky. Your face was flushed in red, hair disheveled and you were still in your hero uniform, dirty and kind of burnt. 

Katsuki Bakugou had not only interrupted your victory, but he had claimed it as his own. His desperation to be the number one hero hadn’t stopped. It’s been years, you’ve grown past his stupid desire and he simply… hasn’t.

You fought the villain yourself, using your quirk to it’s full capabilities and trapping them in a circle of air. You fought for over an hour by yourself, taking up the mission while out and witnessing it first hand. Your freshly bought coffee was long forgotten as you raced after the thief.

The second you landed the thief, the ball of air dissipating as you grew tired, Bakugou arrived in a fiery feat and handcuffed the villain. Of course, the main photos were of him with the handcuffs, standing proud as if he hadn’t stolen your fight. 

His argument was that he did help. Yeah, he did ‒ for three seconds.

Katsuki Bakugou was a piss stain upon himself, truly the worst of the worst who’s own personal interest outweighs anything else in his life. He will never be anything but second best because he never thinks of anyone but himself. 

If only he could read thoughts instead of turning his sweat to ignition. Then you wouldn’t have to put your harsh thoughts into tone.

Your Soulmate was one of two people you genuinely enjoyed talking to, he always seemed to be on the same page as you. The other is Shinsou, from your high school. He was the only one you really kept in contact with.

Sometimes you like to convince yourself that Shinsou is your soulmate, since he hasn’t found his either. But you compared the handwriting and it didn’t match at all. Shinsou’s handwriting was much smaller and neater than the man you would eventually call yours.

“This is so fucking stupid!” You screamed, your rage reaching its max.

You threw your journal across your bedroom, the storm masking the sound of it banging against the wall by your bed. You were pissed, you wanted nothing more than to see Bakugou’s downfall. It’s been years. You were over it.

You were over it all. You were over him, you were over not knowing your soulmate, you were over being alone in your stupid apartment. It all reached it’s apex. Maybe you needed a shower, or maybe you needed to move from your job.

Your fit was interrupted by a loud crash on the roof of your apartment building. You nearly jumped at the sound, the sound not even close to the crashes of thunder. 

You rushed to the roof, your hero senses kicking in more than your regular carefulness. Once you were outside, you were almost instantly drenched in the rain. Only a couple of yards ahead of you was a man crumbled to the ground; they must’ve hit the roof harder than you thought.

When they turned, clutching their side, you knew instantly who it was.

“Deku?” You rushed towards him. “I thought you were in Hirosaki for some serious villain.”

He moved to stand, much taller and broad than he was back in high school. Yet still with the fluffy green hair and bright eyes with hope always seemingly sewed in. 

“I was. I just… I need your help.”

“Why do you need my help?” You helped him stand fully, taking his hand from his side to check for an injury. He wasn’t bleeding. “Doesn’t Uraraka live around here?”

“I don’t… want to involve her in this.” He stood straight. His healing must’ve started. “I… this is something I need you for.”

“Okay…” You crossed your arms. “What do you need?”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Deku started, and you didn’t move. “But it’s Bakugou.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Aero, I know that you two…”

“No.”

“Please, I…”

“Deku, you know more than anyone how and who he is. Whatever it is, he can deal with it himself.” You started back towards the stairs. “I appreciate you coming to me, for whatever reason, but this is something that you have to find someone else for.”

“Don’t think of this as us doing something for him.” Deku rushed to stand in front of you. “Think of it as a favor for me. You owe me one.”

“Don’t do this now.” 

“I’m officially cashing in my favor.”

You sighed, “Fine. Can you at least tell me what we need to do for the asshole?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” He nearly jumped in joy. “But you cannot tell anyone. Not Shinsou, not the police, and not our boss. This is under the radar.”

“Oh, shit.” You followed him as you flew next to him. “What are you getting me into?”

tag list: @katsulovee @paradisebabey @seaofemptygold @zhaixiaowen @daylghits @haikyuusimp91 @darknessyournewfriend @samwise-though @liaxxx109

[roll-da-credits]

Overprotective - Hawks x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Request: hi ! if you don’t mind could i request something for hawks?? you can do it as a oneshot or hcs (which ever works for you). basically my idea was that the reader and him work together but reader gets injured. its not even that bad maybe just like a deep cut on their or something but people come to load them into the ambulance and hawks is just in protective birb mode. mans has his wings around them and is glaring at anyone near and reader is just like “pls i just need to get stitches then i’ll be fine dummy”. protective hawks just makes my heart go hnnnggghhh,,

A/n: fun fact of the day, protective Hawks also make my heart go S;DFJLASDFLJA;SDJFA, I love him sm, like he's such a bastard but he's an amazing bastard yk? I mean just look at how absolutely dumb and adorable he looks in the banner❤️ Anyways, thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy it!!!

🖤❤️🖤

“Hawks, the situation has gotten a little bit out of hand, they can use an extra hero out there.” One of Keigo’s assistants informed him over the phone.

Before he even replied, he flew quickly over to the site, “I’m already here. Who’s on duty right now?” Keigo released some of his feathers to rescue some civilians, and listen in on whatever ruckus was happening.

“Kamui Woods and H/n, but their quirks aren’t the best fo-” Keigo didn’t even let the woman behind the phone finished before quickly turning off his phone and sending even more of his feathers to scan the area for you.

If he was called in for backup, that meant you and Kamui Woods weren’t able to contain the villain very well. Or it could mean both of you were injured far beyond being able to defeat it. His mind raced trying to listen in on every corner of the danger zone.

The villain wasn’t exactly incredibly destructive or murderous, he was just a criminal with a rather pesky quirk. Being able to create spikes wherever his skin touched and on his hands, led to a lot of bystanders in the busy area getting injured, both Kamui Woods and you, were rather overwhelmed.

“Woods, rescue the civilians, I’ll try to ambush him.” From one of his feathers, he could hear your voice and pinpointed your location before swiftly flying over there.

His eyes landed on yours, and for a brief second, you faltered in your position, rather shocked at seeing Keigo there. This small shock led your ambush to completely failing, the man had enough time to react to your attack.

The spikes on his hands were directed to slash your chest, if it wasn’t for a red feather quickly pushing you back, your chest would’ve been a giant gash by now. Keigo flew down and quickly apprehended the man with his feathers quite easily. Making you slightly scoff behind him.

“Always got to show off huh?” he looked back at you with a small smirk, only for it to immediately falter when he saw your right hand on your shoulder. Blood dripping from your fingers.

“Birdie, I thought you completely dodged it?!” Keigo walked over to you eyes glued on the wound, wings rather puffed up from worry.

“He can extend his spikes you know?” Since Keigo was still looking pretty alarmed, you tried calming his nerves down, “Love, it's literally nothing. I get worse injuries all the time, it’ll probably take 2 stitches and that’s it. I am a bit tired from all the fucking running though.”

You said the last words in a more joking manner and started to head over to an ambulance to get your wounds treated and transported to a hospital to check for any further damage.

That was your plan, before Keigo suddenly picked you up from the ground, his wings taking flight immediately.

“Oi Keigo what the FUCK are you doing?!?!??!?” You yelled, being completely shocked at the fact that a second ago your feet touched the ground, now there was no ground to be seen.

“Who knows if the people in the ambulance were actually working with the thief.”

At this point you were flabbergasted, this man picked you off your feet just because of a deep cut in your SHOULDER, not even your legs, and didn’t want you to deal with paramedics because he was scared of them being the thief’s accomplices.

“You are literally making zero sense.” You let out an exasperated sigh knowing full well Keigo isn’t letting you go any time soon.

Finally arriving at the hospital, Keigo was literally on your tail the entire time. Even when going up to the desk to explain what happened to when you had to explain the circumstances you were in (those circumstances being you didn’t get to the paramedics on sight because of a certain hero).

When one of the nurses came to bring you to another room, Keigo followed once again.

“Excuse me, sir, we need to bring you to a different room to do a check-up on you.” There were a few scratches here and there from the previous fights before your skirmish with the villain. But he completely ignored the nurse. Only fluffing up his wings even more.

“Sir?” “Oh, I’m incredibly sorry, I’d like to say with my little birdie over there.” Keigo gestured towards you who’s being led to sit on a bed before getting stitches.

He came over to stand next to you and hold your hand in his.

“Babe, I’m literally a pro hero, I’ve gotten stitches more times than I can count. It's ok.” You tried reassuring him. Codeword: tried.

When the doctor came in with her tools, Keigo literally glared daggers at her. The room felt like it dropped a couple of degrees and you can feel the doctor getting slightly nervous from the dangerous glare of the rather intimidating hero.

Who wouldn’t be intimidated when an extremely popular hero’s lover was being treated by you?

“Ok no I’m not doing this, babe wait outside.” Keigo immediately looked at you with an offended expression. As if you just insulted him and all of his ancestors before him, “You’re literally intimidating the poor doctor, this will take about 15 minutes and then you can come back in.”

You kept a stern tone to him and he dejectedly, like a child after getting scolded by his mother, walked out the room. Leaving the ‘suspicious’ (at least to him) doctor and you alone.

15 minutes had passed and when the doctor left the room, she was immediately met with the menacing glares of the fastest hero, “They’re ok right?” The doctor stammered trying to answer him, “Uhhh yeah, yeah she’s fine. Its, it's not that deep.”

After answering she immediately paced away from Keigo who was already entering your room.

He took a seat beside your bed laid his head on the crook of your uninjured shoulder, wings lightly fluttering from the joy he was feeling. He had the biggest dopey smile you had ever seen.

“Your wings look really fluffy right now.” You remarked reaching out to caress some of his feathers. They were incredibly soft despite how dangerous of weapons they can be when he wanted them to.

“I was worried, am I not allowed to worry for my incredible birdie?” He cooed to you before wrapping his hands around your waist, peppering kisses all over your face. Causing you to giggle and lightly push him away.

“I’m a pro hero you know, I know when to ask for help.” You held up the feather necklace Keigo gave you, showing you technically could signal him to come to your aid any time if you needed to, “You don’t need to worry about me, pretty boy.”

The dopey smile somehow grew much more into a heartwarming one. He climbed onto the hospital bed, snuggling with you on it, was it slightly uncomfortable? Sure. But you wouldn’t have to stay here for that long anyway, so why not just have a little calming cuddle session.

Keigo, feeling your head on his chest, his hand tangling itself on your hair, and his other hand holding firmly on your waist, reminded himself. You will be okay. He doesn’t always need to baby you. You’re perfectly capable of doing things.

“Hey, birdie?” You hummed in reply, “Sorry for how weird I acted.” You snorted, weird was an understatement.

“It was cute seeing you overprotective though.” With that Keigo’s laughter filled your ears. Like a soft calming tune.

It was weirdly serene, bandages all over your left shoulder, the sun lightly setting, and an amazing man (bird? Man-bird?) in your arms.

[omniscientwreck]

Let me combine both of your favorite things! I would love a little thing about Caduceus (in his infinite wisdom and questionable intelligence) trying to give either Essek or Caleb relationship advice that may or may not be actually helpful. Those two wizards are probably too much in their own heads to see what's right in front of them and could use a little nudge. Just imagine both of them going to Caduceus for advice on how they're attracted to the other and Caduceus just sitting there trying to fight to urge to facepalm.

Hello! Thank you for combining my two favourite things into this fic that took way too long but I'm quite pleased with! I hope you enjoy!

In which Caduceus has three conversations with two wizards fighting against a force bigger than either of them.

----------

The first of these conversations Caduceus had was expected. Gardening alongside Essek, teaching him how to sow beauty where destruction had laid waste had been therapeutic for both of them. Caduceus had never given up on the war criminal. It’s difficult to feel no sympathy for someone whose story was written across their face in blank but pleasant stares and a mask of platitudes.

The state he’d been in when they met him at the outpost had filled Caduceus with determination. He’d been as close to a wreck as they’d ever seen him and now kneeling alongside him and looking over to see a small self-satisfied smile as he observed the work they’d done, it feels like they’ve done something right. This second chance had been well earned and he has faith that Essek will continue to earn it for the rest of his days.

This Essek is determined to right wrongs, and he’s started with the garden. He pays careful attention to the plants, always asking if he’s unsure about the compatibility of certain species, and making sure to put them exactly where they tell him. When they work past the point when the sun disappears behind emerald leaves he takes off the gloves Jester had made him and digs his hands into the ground. It seems to bring him peace, it’s good that he’s found any.

Most of the time when they work it’s silent, creases pressed into Essek’s forehead. He sweats through the layers that serve to keep him safe from the heat overhead and always has to be cajoled into taking breaks or drinking water. It reminds him a bit of Yasha.

On the third day, when he’d nearly gone faint Caduceus has to intervene, “You don’t need to hurt yourself to repent you know.”

Essek takes great care to swallow and not choke on the water he’d been sipping, bad timing. The mask comes up again, “I don’t know what you mean.” he states flatly. He knows that Caduceus is smarter than that and it shows.

“Hurting yourself doesn’t change anything. It’s the creation of beauty here that tips your scales, not the destruction of yourself.”

He nods slowly, indigo eyes downcast. “I suppose you’re correct. I have much to atone for Caduceus. There is much work to be done before I will deserve any of the kindness you foist upon me.”

“Hey now, I decide who deserves my kindness. We all do.”

Essek nods again, running a dirt stained hand through his silver hair. It leaves streaks of dirt, Caduceus says nothing.

“It’s difficult to be made aware of your stark moral failings, to learn what it means to truly care for someone again. It’s difficult to care more than you expect and to know what is enough, if anything is.”

His eyes flick behind Caduceus, where he can hear Caleb explaining something to Luc and he understands more than Essek probably wants him to. “You’ll find enough.” Essek looks at him, eyes full of a delicate hope, easily shattered, “He’ll tell you when it’s enough.”

His eyes widen just slightly and a deep blush spreads across his face alongside a smile so small it’s like he doesn’t want to let himself accept the barrage of feelings it holds back. “If.” His voice is small but the weight is heavy in the tone.

Caduceus reaches a hand to cover one of his, “When. Remember, I see things the rest of you don’t.”

Essek smiles wryly at that, voice full of mirth, “Of course Mr. Clay the ever observing.”

They go in for dinner and Essek speaks up a little more, he’s a little more alive. The change is small, but Caduceus notices.

----------

The second conversation is less expected, completely unexpected if he’s being honest. Caleb arrives at the doorstep of the grove one evening around 8 months after they’d last seen each other. “Hallo friend, I hope I am not intruding.”

His smile is easier now, though still restrained by sadness. “Not at all Mr. Caleb you are always welcome here. There should be left overs from dinner, fix yourself a plate.”

Caleb allows himself to be ushered in and fussed over. He tells a few stories of the trial but Caduceus tries to steer away from that particular vein of conversation. It’s raw and it doesn’t look like he’s fully healed. There’s still one catch somewhere that he needs to loose himself from before the smile will be easy and free, before he can walk away from his past and toward the future.

“I am going to Aeor next.”

Ah.

When Caduceus doesn’t say anything he continues, voice laced with trepidation, “I am going to ask Essek to join me.” he wants Caduceus to convince him of something.

“Well, two wizards is better than one.” He eyes Caleb knowingly and the wizard squirms a bit under his gaze.

“It is just, a little strange isn’t it? The directions we are led in.” He trails off again, maybe he’s hoping for wisdom. Caduceus decides he can probably dispense something.

“You’ve never seemed like someone who wanted much to be herded into decisions to me.”

“It’s been a journey.”

Caduceus clears his dish and sets down a teapot, “It’s a journey you’re still on. One that might not have a definite end. Is it worth it to deny yourself happiness because you’re worried about whether you deserve it?”

That caught him a little off guard, copper hair shook a bit as he’d clearly gone a little further than Caleb was expecting. He likes to talk in metaphors so that he can hide from truths later, or at least pretend everything can have multiple meanings. It’s time for Caduceus to stop letting him twist words around in that expansive brain of his until the original meaning is obscured by hypotheticals.

“I cannot tell you what’s right Caleb, but if you came here for a reasonable perspective listen to the one I’m giving you.” He pours the tea and offers honey, “You will never know if you don’t go and I know you better than you think. You don’t like loose ends, not as long as there’s something to learn.”

He nods, staring into tea, they’re so similar and so stubborn that Caduceus can feel the loving annoyance usually directed at his siblings creeping in. “Caleb, stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault in the first place.” Caleb nearly interrupts but Caduceus keeps barrelling through, “Self-flagellation won’t get you anywhere, you’ll just end up with regrets and what ifs. Go explore Aeor, forget everything else for a bit. Do that thing the two of you do where you’re finishing each other’s sentences and nobody knows why you’re bothering to speak out loud because it’s obvious you’re thinking the same things.”

Caleb’s smile is smaller now, but lighter. “Ja mein Freunde, I think you will. Thank you for tolerating questions I don’t know how to ask out loud.”

Caduceus smiles back, “I think this will be good. If you need anything while you’re there don’t hesitate to reach out. Stock up on healing, you’ll need it.”

Caleb laughs at that and spends the night, before heading to Zadash the next morning, undoubtedly to clear out Pumat’s stock of healing potions.

----------

The third time this conversation is had it’s his fault. He doesn’t mean to start it, but honestly the situation is getting ridiculous and the sibling feelings Caduceus has to both the wizards are firmly cemented.

They decide to get everyone together maybe a year after the last conversation. It’s his first time seeing any of them since then and as soon as they’re all in the same room it’s like no time has passed at all. Essek had come to get him while Caleb gathered the rest at Beau and Yasha’s home in Rexxentrum. Jester wraps him in a crushing and loving hug, Beau gives him a punch that’s soft for her but still stings, Yasha offers clippings of flowers immediately, and Fjord’s hug is warm. Veth’s family is here and she looks happier than he’s ever seen her. Caleb greets him with the warmth that’s always burned behind eyes that hold less and less sorrow every time he sees him. He hopes they’ll drop it all together one day.

When they pop back into existence from the way Caleb and Essek look at each other Caduceus expects something to happen. He doesn’t know what exactly but they hold each other’s eyes in a profound way. There’s gravity to them and everyone can feel it, he’s getting tired of watching them fight it.

It seems so simple even though he doesn’t feel that kind of pull, to see where this is going. It’s feels like the days before a big storm, when everyone knows what’s coming and it’s getting a little ridiculous that you’re still waiting for lightning to strike.

Everyone else drinks, they cook and eat and tell stories. Caleb and Essek sit apart but spend the entire time stealing glances across the table when they don’t think the other is looking. Nearly always they catch each other.

Yasha plays on the bone harp, she’s gotten very good and Jester swings Veth around into a dance. Kingsley, three sheets to the wind, grabs Beau and whips her into a reluctant dance and her initial protests eventually bubble into laughter. Caleb sits beside Caduceus and Jester has switched to twirling a flustered Essek across the floor of the livingroom. It often turns to dancing with these people and he loves that they love it so much.

“As I recall you’re an excellent dancer Mr. Caleb, go cut in.”

He shakes his head, “Ah- I couldn’t. Yasha is playing and I don’t think you’re much of a dancer.” He looks over with a quirk of a brow.

“I’m sure Jester won’t mind a break.”

He coughs at that, “I ah-”

Caduceus shakes his head, “No, talking is done, this is getting ridiculous.” He puts a hand square on his back and guides Caleb to stand, “You two will weave circles of metaphor around each other until one of you drops. Go Caleb, follow gravity.”

He seems to understand, seems to accept Cadcueus’ words and as soon as he stands to full height, Essek is watching over Jester’s shoulder. She, thankfully, understands the same way Caduceus does and even sends a wink as she loudly proclaims, “Oh my gosh Essek I’m so tired, I think Caleb needs someone to dance with, go to him.” She extends her arm, releasing him, and his levitation doesn’t allow him to stumble at the abrupt change in momentum.

Essek and Caleb meet and Essek steps to the ground gracefully as Caleb holds his hand out and pulls him in.

Nobody says anything for fear of spooking the delicate peace that settles over both of them as they gently turn, but Yasha slows the music she’s playing a bit and a quiet celebration is shared in the eyes of the rest of the Nein.

Caduceus breathes a sigh of relief and Jester sits herself beside him, bringing an overly sweet juice she’d found on her travels for him to try. She tells him stories into the night, and the wizards never let each other’s hands go.

[lea-andres]

Oops have some more Team Chaotix headcanons, guys! This is my idea of their origin story, kind of in chronological order. It's just me rambling, LOL.

I'm commandeering @sonicsmeteor 's headcanon that something happened to make Espio so bloodthirsty toward Eggman/Nega. So Espio is from another country originally, where he was being raised by his ninja clan family. (I like to think it was Chun-Nan, because I love Unleashed, but the Unleashed countries might not be Canon anymore... so 🤷) But, a typical Eggman taking over the world scheme caused his whole family to die when he was 3-4 years old. 😳 And it wasn't even intentional on Eggman's part. They were just... in the way.

I'm not certain on all the angsty, gritty details yet (I'm avoiding that for now with "Espio doesn't like to talk about it"), but that's... A Thing.

Espio was shipped off to Seaside City, and was bounced around a lot between foster families and orphanages. No one was too keen on the idea of adopting a ninja assassin child who watched his whole family die, and Espio was unfairly regarded as a "Troubled Youth"/juvenile delinquent because of it.

Because of everyone assuming Espio was trouble right from the get go, he decided to show them just how much trouble he could be. He'd sneak out at night and wander the city, causing mayhem and picking fights with any Eggman robots he'd encounter. (He's got a criminal record from these days. Nothing really crazy, just some 'destruction of property', 'trespassing', and 'disturbing the peace' violations. It comes back to haunt him work wise sometimes, but Vector vouches for him.)

Vector's past is pretty uneventful. He graduated from school with a degree in criminal justice (helps explain why the Chaotix are so broke, student loans LOL... 😵) and might've minored or even just taken a class or two in early childhood education. He knew he wanted to be a detective from day one, but he's got a big soft spot for kids.

If you had asked Vector before his first case, he would've told you he loves kids, definitely wants two or three someday, but not right now. He needs to get his career going first. (This will be humorous later.)

Vector and Espio met when a jewelry store near his latest foster home was robbed. Vector was just starting out as a private investigator, and this was his first case. Everyone else was eager to just convict Espio of the crime and be done with it (because he was the closest delinquent, who else would it have been?), but Vector was confident Espio didn't do it, and the real culprit was trying to set him up to be the fall guy. So Vector insisted, despite all the pressure otherwise, on doing a full, proper investigation and consider all possibilities. Turned out he was right: the store owner was trying to commit insurance fraud, and figured no one would bother looking into it if he accused Espio. Vector tore the guy a new one for trying to do that to a little kid, earning Espio's respect and gratitude forever.

They'd ran into each other a couple more times after that while Vector was solving other cases and Espio was up to some late night trouble. Vector put a stop to the late night trouble almost immediately, but he was against the idea of sending the kid home (the jewelry store case left a bad taste in his mouth, he didn't know it for sure yet, but he sensed Espio's home life was not great), so he decided to bring the kid with him on cases, and teach him how to be a detective.

It got to a point where Espio would just be over at the office every second he had available. There didn't even have to be a case happening, he just wanted to be with Vector instead of his foster families.

Sometimes people would ask Vector how he tolerates 'that troublemaker bothering him all the time', but Vector always insists Espio is not a troublemaker, and he's not bothering him. He loves having the kid around.

Vector was the one who suggested Espio blend together ninjitsu and being a detective. He thought the two complimented each other well, and Espio shouldn't forget his past.

Espio really cleaned up his act thanks to Vector, and was the happiest he'd been since his family died. He looked up to Vector like a father.

Espio's got some abandonment issues (WONDER WHY), and eventually begged Vector to take him on officially as his apprentice out of fear that he was going to lose his father figure too. Vector refused to be his mentor, and gave Espio a counter offer: He wanted to adopt him, and give him the familial love and care he deserved. 🥺

Adopting Espio was a long, arduous nightmare. "Vector's too young", "Espio's a problem child." "Vector's single, Espio needs a mother to nurture him properly." (That one made Vector the angriest of them all) It eventually worked out though.

This was one of the few times Vector saw Espio cry of happiness. 🥺🥺🥺

Time jump ahead 7 (happy) years, Vector and Espio are hired to solve a homicide case. Well, Vector was hired. Everyone was hesitant about him bringing his 13 year old son, but Vector insisted that they're a team and they solve cases together. Espio just darkly quipped he's "seen worse".

However, this case was particularly hairy, as the key witness was the murder victim's 3 year old son, Charmy. (No, he didn't see the murder, I'm not THAT monstrous, but he did see the murderer make their escape, and he was needed to ID them.)

If you were to ask Espio, he'd tell you that he knew the second Vector laid eyes on the bee that Charmy was going to be his new little brother.

Charmy had been really scared of all of the law officials and lawyers and news reporters all crowding around him demanding to know what happened and what he saw, so he clammed up and was refusing to speak to anyone.

So Vector had to chase them all off, and he and Espio comforted Charmy.

It took a couple days and a lot of patience, but Charmy eventually warmed up to both of them (especially Vector), and as long as at least one of them was with him he had the confidence to give his testimony. His true personality started to shine through again, all his cheeriness and optimism despite the morbid situation he was in. He really won over Vector and Espio at that point.

I don't have all the details of the case figured out yet, but obviously the Chaotix figured it out and justice was served. :)

Vector feared it was going to be harder to adopt Charmy than it was to adopt Espio (because Charmy was younger, and more desirable to the average family), but it wasn't. Vector and Espio milked "You guys said Espio was a problem child, and look at him NOW, after 7 years in MY CARE!" for all it was worth. 😂

So Vector's been teaching Charmy all the detective stuff too, and Charmy's been picking it up, as we've seen.

That's all I've got so far. I have some holes to fill in, but give me a couple days and I will.

I might turn this into a whole fic someday. I could get way more detailed than this, even. 😂

[lastxviolet]

Madripoor is for Lovers (Zemo x F!Reader - Ch. 4

Summary: Y/N is a SWORD agent recruited to help Sam and Bucky track down Karli and the super-soldiers. When Helmut Zemo joins the team, he takes a special interest in her. The friendly union is wrought for disaster, but then things take a turn for the worst when Y/N is taken as collateral. Will Zemo keep her forever? Does she even want to escape? And what happened in Madripoor that made the whole thing so complicated?

Warnings: mention of violence

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32878015/chapters/81589774

Madripoor was lovely until the shootout started.

It was difficult to appreciate the city views or even the night before as the shipyard collapsed around you.

One second you were running through fire and smoke, and the next, searing pain ripped through your bicep. The shrapnel and spewed toxic lab material were an afterthought as you hit the ground, clutching the place where a bullet grazed you.

The pain made it impossible to get up, open your eyes, or care about broken glass scraping your exposed skin. The smoke left you breathless, making the scream in your throat die before it could alert your friends of your location. You thought that maybe you heard Sam yell your name from somewhere far away — too far away.

Your lungs stopped fighting to scream and began the fight for air. Short puffs were all you could manage. Counting them held off the thoughts of your body behind left in Madripoor for only a little bit before your vision tunneled.

A familiar voice wafted through the chaos before darkness took you.

“There you are,” it had said as you felt strong arms lift you from the rubble.

That was all you could remember as you awoke from a hazy dream.

There was pressure on your arm and even with your eyes closed, you sensed the presence of people looming over you. They spoke but a harsh white noise filled your head, drowning out their words.

As the grogginess faded away, reality hit. You were on a plane. There was no mistaking the familiar rocking and engines rumble. A sickening thought hit you. Was this a military plane taking you back home, or Zemo’s private jet again. If your injurers were enough to land you in a hospital Sam would've called for backup, even in Madripoor.

You squeezed your eyes tight, unwilling to return to reality. This could be the moment you woke up and went back to your normal life.

The last week of your life had felt like a dream. Galavanting through Europe with super soldiers, uniting forces with a notorious villain, and forming a makeshift Avengers.

You still couldn’t decide if Zemo’s involvement made it more dream or nightmare. Either way, you didn’t feel ready to give it up. Opening your eyes meant coming to terms with what happened. This morning at breakfast, nerves had made it impossible to eat. You’d been sure that Zemo would make some mention of what the two of you had done. He could use the information against you, or worse, Bucky and Sam.

The thought of their eyes turning on you with disappointment almost made you keep your eyes closed for the rest of the ride but a sharp pain chose for you. The overwhelming throbbing of your arm shot you back into full consciousness. A guttural groan was all you could muster to alert the looming figures of your state.

“She’s back!”

Sam bent into view. From behind him, you saw the pristine accents of the private plane. Your heart fluttered.

They’d brought you with them.

Sam knelt next to the couch you’d been laid out on and placed a hand on your leg.

“How you feeling?”

Your mouth was too dry to speak so you nodded and took in more of your surroundings. The bathroom was near your feet, so you were facing backward.

A blanket weighed you down but you tried to sit up anyway. Sam’s arm shot out and knocked you back. He yanked the blanket up towards your neck and eyed the edge to make sure it reached your chin. The cool air on your back told you that someone had taken your shirt off to get to the wound.

“Nothing I have not seen before.”

The voice flooded your body with heat, making your cheeks burn. For the first time, you turned to see who was tending to your arm.

Zemo stared at Sam with a smile and continued. “From her dress last night, of course.”

That was the voice you’d heard. That was the voice that had saved you.

It wasn’t Sam or Bucky, it was the man they’d told you to hate. He’d come back through the flames, gunfire, and danger to pluck you out of the wreckage and bring you to safety. And now he healed you with his own two hands. He didn’t look you in the eye or acknowledge you at all as he bent his neck to focus on your wound.

You returned your gaze to Sam and spoke before Zemo made any more taunts or innuendos about last night. For now, you were partially certain that he hadn’t told anyone what happened. Sam’s demeanor might be quite different with you if he had.

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when we land, you need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” your voice came out as a croak. The room around you spun with the exertion of energy, proving your words false.

Sam chuckled and tapped your shin a few times while exchanging words that you couldn’t hear with Zemo. They leaned close and shared a worried glance before Sam entered the main cabin, closing the sliding door behind him.

You felt Zemo's hands at work but the pain subsided. Something had numbed your arm, or perhaps your brain had done you a favor and cut ties with the nerves there altogether.

Alone again, you stared at him, conscious of your hammering heartbeat and the fact that this was the second time you'd been topless in front of him in 24-hours.

“What are you doing?”

“Listen to your comrade. You need sleep.”

His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sweat forming on his forehead and upper lip. His face was more flushed than normal, almost as if he’d been running but his breathing wasn’t heavy behind his firmly set jaw.

“Thank you,” you muttered. “For saving me.”

A frustrated sigh was all he responded with.

Of all the expressions you’d seen of his, you couldn’t understand this one. No smirk formed as he worked. And where his eyes usually told you everything you needed to know, all they communicated was his desperate need for sleep.

You choked a few words out to quell the tension and distract your mind.

“Were you a medic?”

He shook his head. “Our army did not have enough enlisted for such distinction. I was a commander but we had to learn everything.”

“Commander,” you repeated. “Baron. Quite the collection of titles.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in jest, noticing that you felt lighter than before. An odd giddy feeling bloomed in your chest, despite the dull pain. He must have given you some sort of pain medication before you woke up.

The drugs continued for you. “I’m just an anomaly investigator so I don’t know how to do all that.”

“I’m sure you could learn.”

“I’d need a teacher.”

He hung his head and you adverted your eyes. Even without the oncoming haziness from the drugs, you knew that this little game of flirtations should stop. You opened your mouth to change the subject but he beat you to it.

“I’m not sure we have enough time.” His voice had a twinge of sadness as he spoke the truth.

Eventually, you’d part ways and the world would be better for it. The mission would be over and he’d have less to worry about with the super-soldier serum destroyed.

“Well, who knows how long it will take to catch Karli and…”

He flashed you a somber look and your voice caught in your throat. He wasn’t talking about the mission. He was talking about the two of you.

That's right. Reality came back into full force then, knocking sense into your head.

He was a criminal who'd be locked up for the rest of his days and you would go back to your full-time job, fighting people like him.

It shouldn’t have been as big of a blow as it was, because you’d only known each other a few days. If the drugs and exhaustion weren’t keeping you firmly in place under the threat of passing out again, you’d run as far away from this man as you could.

He was a criminal. He was not to be trusted.

But he’d saved your life.

He didn’t have to, in fact, it didn’t make an iota of sense that he did. But the words he’d whispered on the balcony floated back to you.

Had he meant it all?

His strained voice invaded your pestering thoughts.

“Suffering by nature or chance never seems so painful as suffering inflicted on us by the arbitrary will of another,” he said, caressing your bare skin one last time before tucking your arm underneath the blanket. “Do you know who said that?”

You shook your head, ruffling your hair with the pillow.

“Arthur Schopenhauer. The philosopher of pessimism.”

The fresh stitches scratched against the fabric as you turned towards him.

“A terrible choice for a man in prison,” you whispered.

He played with a roll of gauze in his hands, turning it over and over. The muscles of his jaw flexed and clenched as he sorted through his thoughts before speaking.

“Is it surprising though? For a man with a life sentence?”

He met your eyes then. The hard glare almost made you flinch.

Your heart ached for him. You knew firsthand the harm the Avenger had caused, but you also knew it could’ve been worse. The eradication of Sokovia had been to avoid the destruction of the world. But that had been his family, his home, his world. You knew his vision had tunneled because of what he’d gone through. A smart, military man knew the cost of peace but resented who had to pay.

Did he not think that was what everyone who had to pull a trigger in the name of peace thought of? Did he think that made him different from the Avengers?

Again, the drugs moved your mouth before you could think better of your words.

“Maybe we can push for better arrangements? Your assistance to the US must count for something —“

He raised his hand to silence you before you could finish the thought.

“That opportunity passed as soon as you assisted my escape. You know, as well as I how this will end. It is not the United States that is most concerned with my sentence but those who are will insist upon a worse cell, where they do not negotiate for amenities or comfort.”

Your stomach dropped with the realization. “The Raft.”

He was right. You knew he was. In all the chaos, Wakanda hadn’t crossed your mind, but this was a betrayal of mass proportions. His life sentence was their revenge and they wouldn’t take his brief freedom lightly. You couldn’t blame them of course. He’d assassinated their king in cold blood, in front of the world.

Prison had seemed like a joke to him before. When you’d first spoken to him in his cell with Bucky, it almost seemed amusing. Now the weight of his reality seemed to have set in. You wondered what changed.

“Do you not think you deserve it…your sentence?”

He squinted and stared over your head towards the windows. “That is not the question.”

His words felt the same as the bullet that had hit your arm; sharp, and perfectly aimed.

Normally your banter felt like a dance. There was no point to get across, or set path. You simply swayed back and forth, feeling each other out. But this time, it felt like he had something to say but was unwilling to go through the elegant waltz that you usually did.

The realization struck like lightning.

“Whether you’ll serve it,” you asked hesitantly, hoping for the first time in your conversations with him that you were wrong. His eyes gave nothing away but the hint of a smirk ghosted his lips.

Warning bells rang in your head, overwhelming your thoughts and any willpower to be careful with your words.

“Helmut, you’d be insane to escape the raft and even crazier to tell me about it.”

His eyes widened at the sound of his name.

“But I am not in the raft, am I?”

You stared at him in silence, failing to hide your angry expression.

“Perhaps, I never will be,” he finished with a raise of his eyebrows.

There it was.

He flinched as you brought your good arm up to swat his leg.

“Why would you say that,” you hissed.

He caught your hand, lowering it back down to your side. His fingers lingered around yours, caressing the back of your hand in a random pattern. It was then his smirk reappeared. Whether it was because of how your fingers gravitated towards his, or your anger, was unclear.

“I thought you might like to know.”

You shook your head and dropped his hand. “You’re insane.”

The Zemo that everyone else knew returned right before your eyes. He lived to taunt everyone and everything. You’d only ever seen the mask drop for you but now it was back up.

“No heavy lifting for a while, yes?”

The change in his voice was a show for the others as he stood and spoke loud enough to fill the cabin.

To hell with the pain. You ripped off the blankets and sat up. Thankfully, you’d been mistaken before, you weren’t topless, a thin sports bra kept you from being exposed.

“Zemo —”

“I do think it will heal in a few days —”

“— that would get you killed.”

He busied himself with something and paid you no mind as he spoke.

“— so the hospital in Riga won’t be necessary.”

You used the rest of your energy to shove him. Hard. All your strength went into it. All your frustration with his past decisions that separated you and the future ones that might keep him from you still. There was no way for you to be together and so you put all the maddening anguish into his back.

He hardly registered the blow as he spun, bringing his face inches from yours.

“Do you plan to be a criminal for the rest of your life? Is being on the run better than serving time for something you did?”

His eyes kept his concerned doctor mask for a second and then you saw the damn break. His iris’s widened, making an angry abyss of his warm eyes. You had no choice but to sit back down as he marched forward and braced an arm on the back of the couch, hovering over you.

“Something I did?” He asked in a dangerous tone.

You held his gaze and sunk into the cushions. Fear. You should’ve felt fear but a familiar heat rose from between your legs. You willed it away and focused on his quirked mouth, almost quivering with anger.

“Was it I who destroyed a country — thousands of lives? I, who created that hellish serum that makes gods out of man? I, who unleashed them on the world without a leash?”

He paused and leaned closer, waiting for an answer.

“No,” you whispered.

“One man receives life in prison while a band of thugs runs free, wreaking havoc on earth and calling it justice. They are your friends, are they not? That is your side. So why would you, S.W.O.R.D agent, fighter for the United States, Avenger, care about my sentence?”

His nostrils flared as he hissed and anger burned in his eyes. You could’ve retreated from the accusation that you were the same as those you worked with. But it wasn’t true. It might have been foolish to think that you knew him but the delusion made you speak softy, and tame the beast.

“Because I know what you’re doing.”

He flinched at the words, offended by the meaning and delicate tone. Again, you wondered the last person to show him any kindness or regard him with gentle eyes.

“Enlighten me about what you think you know.”

His jaw was tense when you brought your face closer to his and spoke in nothing more than a whisper.

“You obsess over revenge in the hopes that it will fill the holes in your heart left by loss. I know that you think keeping yourself distracted will heal you but it’s not true. The harder you run away from all that pain, the worse it’ll be when it finally catches up.”

There was more anger in his face when you finished than there was when you started. He stood and straightened his jacket before clearing his throat, unwilling to let you finish.

You tried to get up and follow but blood rushed to your head as soon as you stood up. The room spun and your vision tunneled. The roar of white noise washed over you again, threatening to send you back into unconsciousness.

Steady hands were on you in an instant, making sure you didn’t fall. Despite everything, Zemo reached out and folded you into his chest. One arm looped around your waist, and the other tentatively held up your injury.

“Lie down, liebling,” he whispered, not looking you in the eye.

He laid you down and pulled the blanket back up to cover your torso. You tried to focus by counting your breaths and watching the man who made good on his promise to be sweet as he looked for something in his bag.

He came close again and silently helped you pull one of his sweaters over your head. You hissed in pain as he straightened your arm through the sleeve and he made a disapproving look as if it hurt him as well.

He stood to leave but you held onto his wrist.

“Distractions won’t heal you, Helmut. Nothing — no one can,” you said through the haze, searching for him in your clouded vision. “Only you.”

You meant it, deeply. Even though you longed to be someone that could put broken things back together. You meant it, despite knowing that it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

Zemo withdrew from your space and sat the chair opposite, watching you from afar as the plane began its descent. The words he’d said when he’d found you played over and over in your head as you watched him too. His expression was thoughtful and less angry than before. He looked to be mulling something over, and you wondered if your words had made a difference but it was impossible to tell. Sleep threatened to take you again, but you fought it off, opting for a staring contest with the man you couldn’t ever seem to figure out.

It wasn’t until the plane was safely on the ground that Zemo moved.

He crossed the plane to you like a rubber band being flung across the room before tucking one arm underneath your shoulder blades and the other under your knees, scooping you into a bridal carry. Eyes level now, he drew in close and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“You underestimate yourself,” was all he said before walking out into the cabin, towards the exit.

The door opened before you could object and both Sam and Bucky’s faces fell immediately.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Zemo ignored Bucky’s protest and pushed through them to descend the stairs. The sun was too bright so you shut your eyes and leaned into the man holding you. The man who had admitted that you might be enough to heal him. Your heart ached at the impossibility of it but you let yourself live in the fantasy for a little longer.

“James, are you not a gentleman?”

“She hurt her arm, she can walk fine,” Bucky yelled from behind you, stomping down the stairs.

Zemo’s chest rumbled as he spoke. “The question is not can she do it, but whether she should have to.”

Sam piped up, his voice exhausted from the journey. “Put her down, Zemo.”

The man didn’t listen, of course, and crossed the tarmac before setting you down gently a step away from the opened car door. You hobbled in and looked him in the eyes a final time. He no longer looked to be mulling over his thoughts, but rather, like he’d decided something.

“Chivalry may not be dead but it does seem to have many enemies,” he said with a wink, before closing the door.