#plus if I get the office job and he gets the promotion that would be so cool

[onrainynights]

the good news potato didn't work for me but my dad found out he might be getting a huge promotion soon so. it half worked?

[badkitty3000]

Breaking The Rules

Five x Plus Size Female Reader, Words: 8,159, One-shot

Warnings: Smut, slight Daddy kink

So I received a very lovely request from someone I won't name, but they asked for something very specific:

"There aren't that many Five x plus size reader fics, And I think that should be changed"

I immediately jumped on this idea, because yes, this does need to change. Body representation is very important. I fully admit that I normally write Five with petite women, and that's usually because he's not a huge guy himself, so I tend to make them smaller. That's kind of the standard formula I suppose: bigger guy, smaller girl? But it doesn't have to always be that way. Everyone should be represented in a positive way.

Anyway, I have tried my best to fulfill this request and hopefully I do it justice. 😽❤️☂️

You had just been transferred from Records to Case Management. It was a pretty big promotion, but you had worked hard for it and deserved it. You were excited to be out of the stuffy records room and into the main population of employees since you were by nature a very social person. At one point you had thought about training for an agent position, but decided against it. Even though that’s really what you dreamed of doing. Instead, you figured vying for an executive position would be the best route, but that would take a few more years in the machine.

Part of your job was taking the data that you put together and assigning a particular agent to the case. You were good at solving puzzles, which is why you were put in this department to begin with, but you were also very good at reading people. You loved getting to know new people and their personalities, and what made them tick. People in general were fascinating to you, and the Commission had plenty of personalities.

As usual, you had no problem fitting in with your new coworkers. You had some sort of energy or charisma that drew others in. Maybe it was your infectious laugh, or your inappropriate sense of humor. Or just that way that you had of putting everyone around you at ease. Whatever it was, it was a source of pride for you. You liked being the one people gravitated to.

There was one person that did not seem as smitten with you as everyone else, and that was Number Five Hargreeves. You knew of him, of course. Everyone did. He was a legend among legends and there was a reason for that. You hadn’t been there the first time around, when he was fresh out of the Apocalypse, but when he came back years later as a younger version of himself, it was all anyone could talk about.

Five had a reputation for being aloof and if you caught him on the wrong day, he’d cut you down with some biting insult that was just as powerful as any physical harm he could do. He was smart, agile, and brutally honest. He was also hot as hell.

There seemed to be no end to the line of women that would purposefully parade past him on a daily basis. You couldn’t blame them, though. You’d caught yourself staring a few times, as you watched him read over a file with that serious expression of his, before he nodded a curt thank you and disappeared in a flash of blue. But you weren’t really that interested in him and you knew for a fact that he didn’t date inside the office. You admired that about him, actually, because neither did you.

Just because he wasn’t sleeping around the Commission, however, didn’t mean he wasn’t getting some action elsewhere. When you work for an organization that can see anything and everyone across all timelines and at any point in time…well, rumors are bound to start spreading. And you had heard a lot of them.

As with all rumors, it was hard to determine how much of it was true, but you could at least believe what you heard about his usual taste in women. Petite, thin, perky boobs, a flat stomach, and a small, tight ass. The guys at the switchboard loved to give descriptions of Five’s latest conquests, and they all sounded about the same. But hey, good for him, everyone has a type.

So, even if you were somehow interested in him from a romantic standpoint, you wouldn’t have made the cut anyway. You didn’t fit that stereotypical mold of those other women with your wide hips, slightly bigger breasts and butt, and a stomach that had never been flat. You doubted his usual dates had stretch marks on their thighs and hips, or even a small amount of cellulite on their ass. Not that you cared. Everyone’s bodies were different, after all.

Being a bigger sized woman didn’t bother you. You were confident in your body and made no apologies about it. Just because you couldn’t fit into the size negative two jeans that were constantly shoved in your face on every clothing store mannequin, didn’t mean you weren’t going to wear what you wanted. Short skirts, tight blouses that hugged your chest, or low cut, strappy dresses. If you liked it and it fit, who the fuck cared what anyone else thought? You liked yourself and your body, and if someone else didn’t, then that was their problem.

You liked sex, too, and you had no problems in that department either. You’d had many boyfriends, and a few one-night stands. Currently, you were unattached, but that was ok. There would be another man along at some point and you weren’t going to settle for someone you didn’t like. In the meantime, you’d ogle the eye candy at work.

It was a typical day when you had your first real interaction with Five. Sitting in the breakroom with your lunch, laughing loudly with your coworkers, the room suddenly became very quiet. You looked over to see Five strolling casually in, heading for the coffee station. He didn’t speak to anyone, or really even look in their direction, but there were nervous glances all around. One by one, your friends quietly made some excuse and got up to leave. Eventually, it was just you left at the table.

“Aren’t you going to flee in terror with the rest of them?”

You looked up, surprised to see that he was actually talking to you. You pointed to your salad in front of you. “I’m still eating. And you don’t really scare me, sorry.”

Five looked thoughtful for a second and you saw the glimmer of a smile before he took another sip of coffee.

“Nice work on the Edinburgh case, by the way.”

You nodded. “Thanks. I didn’t think you even knew who I was.”

Five shrugged. “I pay attention. Especially when I see real talent.”

You frowned. “So, you’re stalking me, is that what you’re telling me?”

Five almost choked on his coffee. “What? No! Why would you…”

“I’m kidding!” you laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Thank you, though. I appreciate the compliment.”

“Oh,” Five said, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re welcome.” Then he cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll leave you to finish your meal.”

“You don’t have to go, you know,” you said as he headed for the door. He stopped and looked back at you and you gestured to one of the empty seats. “It’s ok to relax sometimes. Maybe be social? And I don’t bite…at least not without prior consent,” you added with a wink.

Five stood there for a few seconds in thought, and you figured he was conjuring up some perfectly crafted insult for you. Instead, you saw his mouth twitch up at the corner and he gestured to you with his coffee cup.

“Well, that is very good to know. Consent is always important.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

A few days later you were standing with your friends in the hallway at the end of the workday, talking about the upcoming Commission pickleball tournament you were all playing in. One of your best players had been injured on a job and now you were down a body. As you were discussing options, you saw Five walking in your direction.

“Hey, Hargreeves!” you yelled. “You up for some pickleball?”

Five stopped in his tracks and actually looked around, as if there could be another Hargreeves standing right behind him. Then he looked back at you, thoroughly confused.

“What the hell are you doing?” whispered one of your friends.

“What?” you replied. “The guy’s like a hundred years old, he probably fucking loves pickleball.” You turned back to Five. “We need another player, you game?”

Still rooted to the spot, Five shook his head slowly. “Thanks for the invite. But I’ll have to decline.”

There was an audible sigh of relief from the rest of your group. You rolled your eyes. “Come on! It’ll be fun. You know what fun is, don’t you?”

Five narrowed his eyes, but you could see there was no bite to it. “Yes, I know what fun is.”

“Well, I promise this will be all sorts of fun.” You gave him a big smile. “And as a bonus, you’ll get to watch me run around in a short skirt.”

Your friend next to you slapped you on the arm. “What is wrong with you?” they hissed.

Five actually smiled for a second, you were sure of it. “Tempting, but again, I have to decline.” Then he continued on his way down the hall.

Over the next few weeks, you made it your personal mission to try and get Five to loosen up. Whether you personally delivered case files to him just as an excuse to talk to him, or purposefully followed him into the breakroom, you wouldn’t leave him alone until you got him to at least smile at something you said. After a while, you noticed he was much more relaxed around you. Eventually, you and he were officially friends, much to the amazement of everyone else around you. He even started seeking you out on his downtime.

“Hey there, handsome,” you joked as Five strode up to your desk one day. “Something I can do for you, or did you just miss me?”

“You know, I could report you to human resources for sexual harassment,” he said as he perched on the edge of your desk, folding his arms across his chest with a smile. He had a standard manilla file folder in one hand.

“It’s only harassment if you don’t like it,” you replied, pointing a pen at him.

“I’m not sure that’s accurate.”

“Sure it is,” you said as you jabbed him in the arm with the pen, laughing when he frowned and rubbed at the area. “But seriously, did you need something?”

“Maybe. I just wanted to run this by you.” He slapped the case file on your desk.

“What is it?”

“A case I was assigned to. I read it over though, and I don’t think it’s right. I wanted your opinion.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Me? The legendary Mr. Five wants my lowly opinion?”

“Just shut up and read the fucking file.”

With a laugh, you opened it and started reading. He watched you, rather intently you noticed, while you read. You frowned and shook your head, pointing at a paragraph. “Right here, this isn’t true. The clockmaker didn’t take a carriage to work that day. He walked.”

Five nodded. “That makes this whole case pointless, then. I’d be targeting the wrong person.”

“Shit, you’re right.” You looked up at him. “Good catch.”

“It looked off somehow, but I couldn’t figure it out. I knew you would, though.”

Normally you’d say something snarky to bust his balls, but he was being truly sincere and his compliment meant a lot to you. “Thanks, Five.”

He shrugged and grabbed the file off your desk. “Alright, see you later.”

As he turned around to leave, you couldn’t help yourself. “Hey, Five?”

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away.”

Five shook his head while you cackled at your own joke. “Can’t even make it ten seconds without treating me like a piece of meat. You’re hopeless.”

The following day, you were in the breakroom getting some coffee when you overheard a conversation by some of your coworkers.

“…yeah, I heard it’s not good. Took a shot right to the chest.”

“I heard it was a head shot; that he’s barely alive.”

“No way, I don’t believe it. Not him.”

You turned toward the group, coffee cup in hand. “Who are you talking about?”

“You haven’t heard? Your buddy was shot up pretty bad today.”

You frowned, lowering your cup. “Who, Five?”

“Yeah. I only heard bits and pieces so far, but it doesn’t sound great. They brought him directly to the infirmary when he came back. There was a trail of blood in the hall and everything.”

“What?” you cried, slamming your cup on the counter. “That can’t be.”

Your friend shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I heard.”

“Shit,” you hissed, before running out of the room.

You didn’t slow down the entire way to the infirmary, dodging people in the halls, and almost knocking a few of them over in the process. How could Five be hurt? And why was just the thought making you sick to your stomach?

You burst into the infirmary just in time to see several nurses scurrying away, and a very angry and bloodied Five sitting up in one of the hospital beds.

“God damnit, if you touch me one more time, I swear to god, I will strangle you with my IV line!”

“Oh my god, Five!” Without even thinking about it, you rushed up to him and threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly to you. “Holy shit, I thought you were dead!”

His body stiffened at first, but then he relaxed and put his arms around you in return. You heard him laugh and you pulled away.

“I bet you’d like that. Then you’d finally be able to molest me without me fighting back.”

You realized a few tears had slipped down your cheek and you hurriedly wiped them away. You gave him a half-smile. “You wish.” Then you looked him over, noticing the blood on his head and the IV in his arm. “Are you ok? What happened?”

He sighed. “Nothing, just a minor mishap. I’m fine.” He spoke louder and in the general direction of the nursing staff. “But these jack-holes won’t let me leave!”

You huffed out a laugh. “I can see you’re fine by your usual lovely attitude. You should hear the rumors going around about you, though. Pretty impressive.”

“Good. I need to keep up appearances.”

When you sat down on the side of the bed, you took one of his hands in yours and squeezed it. “I’m glad you’re ok, really. I got really scared there for a minute.”

Five smiled shyly at you and gave you a squeeze back. “I’m glad someone here was worried about me.”

You tilted your head to the side and brushed a stray piece of hair off his forehead and tried to wipe away a smudge of blood. “I doubt I’m the only one.”

“I think you are,” he said, looking you directly in the eyes.

You averted your eyes for a moment. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Maybe just one thing.”

“Sure, what do you need?”

He grinned. “Go on a date with me.”

You weren’t sure you heard him correctly. “Did they check you for a concussion because I thought you just asked me out on a date.”

“I did. And no, I am not concussed.”

“Five…” you started, blinking in confusion. “I don’t understand. Do you mean like a date date?”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Jesus. Yes, like a date date. Why is this so hard to believe?”

“Uh, well…because we’re friends. Also, I’m not really your type.”

His eyebrows creased together. “You’re not? You’re funny, smart, and sexy. Not to mention you flirt with me every chance you get. What’s not to like?”

“I do not flirt with you.” You smiled when you saw his incredulous expression. “Ok, yeah, I do. But that was just having fun and trying to make you laugh. I didn’t think you’d be into me.”

“Why not?”

“Ok, how do I put this? I have heard all about your little conquests and I know you have a running theme. Skinny, tiny, Barbie dolls that probably have never eaten a sandwich before. And not that there’s anything wrong with that. Everyone has a type and that’s ok. Hell, normally I prefer blond guys, but…”

“Normally?” he cut in.

You blushed. “Well, I do make some exceptions for certain grouchy, dark-haired men.”

Five nodded with a smile. “So then go out with me. I promise the only type I have is the type that I happen to be attracted to. And don’t believe everything you hear around here. Remember,” he pointed to the small abrasion on his head, “I was almost dead a couple of minutes ago.”

Hesitating, you shook your head. “I don’t date anyone from work.”

“Good. Me either,” he said, still grinning.

You laughed. “Alright, then, you wore me down. It’s a date. But only if you promise to stay here for at least another hour without verbally or physically abusing these poor health care workers. It’s not their fault you’re an asshole.”

“Fine, I’ll stay, but only because I want to go out with you.” He raised his voice so the rest of the room could hear. “Not because I need to be treated like a child who fell off their tricycle!”

The next Saturday, you and Five went on your date. When he saw your outfit, he was speechless for a few seconds. He was used to seeing you in your work clothes, which was always the same boring gray pants suit, but now he got to see you in your preferred style. A form-fitting, teal blue dress that stopped halfway down your thighs and had a keyhole neckline to show off a bit of cleavage. You paired it with some gold jewelry and black, strappy heels. You laughed at his face when he saw you.

“You look…” he stammered. “That dress…just wow.”

“Thank you.” You looked him up and down, liking the way his tailored pants fit his lean body just right and his casual button-down shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves accentuated his sculpted chest. You had never really noticed how strong he looked. “You look really good, too. Much better than the stuffy suits.”

“Agreed,” he said distractedly as he continued to stare at your chest.

“Excuse me, but my eyes are up here,” you joked, pointing to your face.

He looked up briefly, then back down at your body. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to your eyes in a minute.”

“Wow, I had no idea you were such a pervert.”

He looked up at you with a devious smile. “Oh, yeah, huge pervert. I’m surprised you never picked up on that.” He laughed along with you and then offered his arm for you to loop yours through. “Shall we?”

At dinner, the conversation came easily. It was nice to be able to chat without having to cut it short due to work. Your stories were much duller than his, obviously, but he still seemed genuinely interested in anything you had to say. You made him laugh with your sarcastic comments and you loved knowing you were just about the only one that could crack that veneer of his. Over dessert, you finally worked up enough nerve to ask him what you really wanted to know.

“So, how come you’ve only dated thin girls before?”

Five looked surprised and he shook his head. “I haven’t only dated thin girls.”

You cocked your head to the side and raised your eyebrows. “Really?”

He coughed, embarrassed. “Ok, fine, that’s true. But it wasn’t a conscious decision. Like I said, I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to.” He paused. “But…”

“But what?”

“But what I am most attracted to is confidence. I like a woman that is sure of herself and assertive. A woman that knows what she wants.” He looked guilty for a second. “Usually, at least in my experience, those are the women that happen to fit into the societal standards of beauty. I hadn’t really thought about it until now, though. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, it’s not a bad thing. I was just curious.” You hesitated, not sure you wanted to keep pressing him for information. “What was it that attracted you to me, then?”

He looked surprised again and then he laughed. “Are you kidding? I’ve never met anyone as confident and self-assured as you. Plus, you’re funny and easy to be around. And almost as smart as I am.”

“As modest as always.”

“I’m just kidding,” he said with a smile. “You’re incredibly smart, obviously. I wouldn’t waste my time with someone who wasn’t. And…” He reached across the table and placed his hand on top of yours, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. You felt a warm, tingling sensation ripple through your body. “You are also incredibly sexy with your shameless flirting.”

“Well, I’m glad you noticed,” you said, taking your finger and brushing it over his. “And just in case you didn’t know, you are also incredibly sexy.”

“I did not know that.”

“Oh yeah. I made a lot of enemies once word got out that I was going on a date with you. Lots of jealous women back at headquarters right now.”

“Is that so? Can I get a list of those women, just in case this date goes bad?”

Taking your foot, you dragged it up his calf, all while looking him in the eye with one eyebrow raised suggestively. “I don’t think it’s going to go bad, do you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t now.” You saw him swallow hard and shift in his seat. “How about we get the check?”

When you got back to your place, you were almost falling through the door as you struggled to get inside while aggressively making out. Neither of you had even made it out of the car before you started groping one another, so that by the time you had made it home, you were both on fire.

“You know,” you mumbled between frantic kisses as Five slammed the door closed behind him with his foot. “I don’t usually put out on the first date.”

“Me either,” he said as he grabbed you around the waist to pull you in closer, kissing you along your jaw.

“Ok, I lied. Yes, I do,” you exhaled breathily as your hands wound into his hair and he moved his mouth to your neck.

“Good, because I lied too,” he said, stopping to look at you with a sly grin.

After letting out a short laugh, you were back on his mouth again, breathing hard through your nose and pressing your body against his. You could feel his arousal building as he pushed his groin into your hip. Your hands fumbled as you started to unbutton his shirt.

“Fuck, you are so hot,” he breathed against your neck. “I want you out of this dress.”

As you finished undoing the last button and pulling his shirt out of his pants, you nodded. “Yeah, good idea.” When you reached down to pull at the strap of your shoe, he put a hand on yours to stop you. When you looked up, he shook his head.

“I said the dress. The shoes stay on.”

Well, if you hadn’t been wet before, you were now. The tone of his voice and the seriousness of his face only added to the hotness factor and at that point you would have followed almost any demand he made of you. Leaving the shoes on, you pulled the dress over your head while he watched. Even though you hadn’t really been anticipating your date progressing this far, you had still prepared with a pair of satin panties and lace bra that matched the same jewel tone as the dress you dropped onto the floor.

Five didn’t say anything, just eyed you up and massaged the back of his neck. Then he let out a long, shaky exhale.

“Are you ok?” you asked, suddenly a little concerned he might not be liking what he saw.

Five nodded, his gaze not leaving your breasts. “Yeah, just give me a second. I’m trying not to come in my pants.”

Your astonished laugh was quickly cut off when you found yourself pinned against the wall on the other side of the room, the fluttery sensation of one of Five’s spatial jumps lingering in your stomach. Your squeak of surprise was swallowed by his mouth on yours, as he pushed hard against you, his hands on your tits.

When he flicked his tongue across your bottom lip, you moaned and closed your eyes, jerking your hips into him. Your hands found their way to his hard chest and muscular arms, feeling them tighten and relax with each movement. He let you tug his shirt the rest of the way off and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he pressed his face into the side of your neck and lifted one of your legs up to his waist. His hard cock was grinding into you as you drew in a ragged breath. When you felt his lips against your skin and his warm breath as he brushed his mouth over your neck, you let out a loud whine.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Let Daddy hear you,” he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh and holding you tightly to him.

“Woah…Daddy?” you breathed out.

Five nodded, moving to the other side of your neck. “Is that ok?”

“Fuck yes, Daddy,” you moaned, running your hands greedily down his back.

You felt him smile against you and his kisses turned into small nips that he trailed down your neck and onto your shoulder.

“I want you. I can’t wait,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

“The bedroom is in there,” you said, pointing to the room just on the other side of the wall.

Five let your leg down and you pulled him by the hand into your bedroom, falling onto the bed and propping yourself on your elbows as Five stood there staring again.

“Well, come on, Daddy,” you teased. “I thought you couldn’t wait.”

A slow smile spread across Five’s face as he immediately started to undress the rest of the way, until he was crawling over you, completely naked. He rubbed his cock against your inner thigh, making a quiet growling noise in his throat before looking you in the eye.

“As much as I love this little bra and panty combination you’ve got going on here, I’m going to need those to go, too.”

When you nodded eagerly, he reached behind you and expertly unhooked your bra, tossing it off the bed before immediately moving farther south and ripping your underwear off. Once you were completely nude, Five sat back to take you all in. You assumed he liked what he saw, because it was only another second before he was covering you with his own body, attacking your full breasts with frantic sucking kisses.

“Damnit, honey, these tits…fuck,” he moaned as he buried his face in your cleavage.

“I take it that you’re pleased?” you giggled, threading your fingers through his hair.

He lifted his head, holding himself over you while he shoved your legs further apart with his knees. Then he lowered himself to kiss you tenderly, caressing your face with one hand. You let out a soft sigh.

“I’m more than pleased. You’re beautiful.”

He leaned in to kiss you again, this time using his free hand to travel down your chest and abdomen, and along your inner thighs. His long fingers met the soft, wet area between them, and he slowly ran them up through your pillowy folds, making you even wetter.

“Five…” you moaned as you rocked your hips up to match his strokes.

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he asked, only slightly condescending as he continued to watch your face for your reactions.

Five entered you with two fingers, pressing in slowly and then backing out again before repeating it in a slow rhythm. You chased his hand with desperate thrusts of your hips, biting your bottom lip to try to contain some of the noises that threatened to escape your lips.

“Fuck me, please,” you whined, throwing your head back.

He gave a quiet chuckle and you felt his hand move away from you. Then he was positioning himself between your legs and lowering himself so that you could feel his dick rubbing against your slit.

“God, I swear I’ve never been this hard in my life. I’m going to fuck you like you want, gorgeous. Daddy’s going to take care of you.”

“Oh, shit,” you gasped when you felt him enter you, just slow enough not to be jarring, but not drawing it out, either.

When he was fully inside, you angled your hips so he was at just the right spot.

“How’s that?” he whispered as he slowly pumped into you.

“That’s good…” You grabbed at his shoulders and back. “Keep going.”

Five continued his slow and lazy thrusts while holding himself over you so he could look down at your face and body. His hair fell forward over his eye and he made quiet groaning noises that were punctuated with soft kisses.

“You feel so damn good,” he moaned.

“Five?”

“What do you need, darling?”

“I need you to really fuck me. Hard.”

He looked down at you, momentarily stopping his movements. Then he laughed quietly and you smiled back. “Well, I did say I’d fuck you like you wanted, didn’t I?”

When he pulled out, you let out a soft sigh and watched as he crawled back off the bed, his dick still hard and wet from being inside of you.

“Wha--?” you started to ask, right before he yanked your legs sideways, so that you were laying across the width of the bed.

Five positioned himself between your legs, holding them up under your knees and settling them on either side of his waist while he lined himself up and slammed into you again.

“Is this what you wanted?” he snarled, continuing to thrust into you hard and fast.

“Yes!” you cried, clutching at the sheets beneath you.

Every time he pounded into you, you got to feel the intensity of his strength as your entire body moved back and forth, your tits bouncing enticingly in front of him. He gave your voluptuous ass a hard slap that made you cry out again. You instinctively covered your mouth with your arm.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Five warned through clenched teeth. “Uncover your mouth. I want to hear you scream.”

Everything he was doing and saying was driving you quickly over the edge, and you did scream for him, just like he wanted. You couldn’t even help yourself.

“Yes…please…keep going…harder, please! I need more!”

You were begging and pleading while he railed into you as hard as he possibly could, thrusting his thick cock deep inside of you while slamming his pubic bone right into your clit every single time. All while completely supporting your lower body, angling it up and off the bed so he could fuck you relentlessly and perfectly.

Soon, you felt your muscles start to twitch and your head fell back, your mouth wide open as you repeatedly asked him to fuck you harder. When you finally hit that wall, you completely lost yourself, screaming his name while bucking and thrashing wildly against him.

Your orgasm was still coming in waves when Five released himself inside of you, his head tipped back and jaw set, growling obscenities while his muscles contracted and he dug his fingers harder into your thighs.

When the intensity had passed, Five let go of your legs, setting them gently down, and he leaned over the top of you, his hands on either side of your head. He kissed you tenderly, still trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said with a heavy exhale.

You nodded, laying a hand on his cheek. “So damn good.”

After another minute, you both moved so that you were lying longways on the bed again. Five held you against his chest while he kissed your forehead and traced his fingers down your arms and back.

“I’m not sure why we haven’t been doing that all along,” he joked.

“Because you needed to get to know me and my sparkling personality first.”

Five rolled his eyes. “Sparkling? I don’t know, that seems a bit much.”

When you giggled, he pulled you close to him. Your lips pulled to the side in thought and after a few seconds you decided to just put it out there.

“Are you sure you’re ok with my body? I mean, I am, but I just want to make sure you are, too. Because if this is going to continue, and I really hope it does, then I need to know you’re going to be ok with my size and not try to change me after a while. I’ve dated men in the past that said they were ok with it, but then a month or so later, they’re encouraging me to go to the gym or making comments about my diet. They all got kicked to the curb, because I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. I am who I am and I love my body. I just want to make sure you do, too.”

Five was quiet for a moment, then he held your chin in his hand. “Look at me,” he said quietly, while tilting you face up. “I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that body type or looks matter to me, because it doesn’t. I just had the most mind-blowing sex I have ever had, and I wouldn’t change one single thing about you. You’re perfect.”

“Wow,” you said with a smile. “Five Hargreeves just called me perfect. Wait until I spread this rumor down at headquarters.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “You believe me, don’t you?”

You nodded. “I believe you. And thank you.” You gave him a soft kiss and smiled. “So, does this mean I can keep sexually harassing you at work?”

“I hereby give you permission to harass me as much as you want on a daily basis. I will welcome it.”

After that first date, you and Five couldn’t get enough of one another. It was like just being in the same building with him set your body on fire. You would find yourself staring off, lost in a daydream about what his mouth felt like and then someone would clear their throat or say your name, and you’d realize they had been talking to you without you noticing.

Obviously, everyone knew that something was going between you two. You hadn’t exactly spread the word, but you also hadn’t denied it. You didn’t really care what anyone thought, anyway. The only problem was, there was a strict policy of no relationships between case managers and field agents in place. This was done to protect the agents, and to avoid any favoritism with assignments. A few casual flings here and there were overlooked, but serious relationships were usually squashed. Not that you would describe what you had as serious. Yet, anyway.

You did love spending time with one another, even without the sex. You even made Five join you at lunch with your usual group, much to the shock of your friends. It was awkward at first, but when Five cracked a very dry and cutting joke about someone in upper management, the table went silent for a second before bursting into laughter. He looked at you in surprise, like he couldn’t believe he was having this type of positive social interaction. You just smiled and shrugged, mouthing “I told you so”.

Despite the fact that you spent a lot of time together outside of work, that didn’t stop either of you from taking advantage of your proximity at the Commission. You had lost count of the number of times you two had stolen away somewhere in the building for a quickie during the day. With Five’s status plus his convenient teleportation powers, you could hide anywhere you could think of that would give you at least a few minutes of privacy.

You would be sitting there, attempting to work on a case, when Five would come strolling in. Just the sight of him striding into the room, all confident and sexy with that tiny smirk on his face, made you want to jump on top of him. He would approach you with some made up problem he had and ask you to go with him so you could help straighten it out. It was pretty apparent what was going on, and your coworkers would exchange glances around you, but you didn’t care.

Once you were safely down the hallway, Five would grab you and blink you into some abandoned storage room where you were immediately attacked. You had told him to stop being so aggressive while at work, because the hickeys he was leaving on your neck were clearly visible. But that didn’t stop him from shoving you against a table or a wall, all while kissing you fervently and telling you how much he wanted you in that deep, growling voice of his.

Dropping to his knees to eat you out while kneading the flesh of your ass. Spinning you around to bend you over a table before fingering you and then fucking you from behind. Biting and sucking at your tits and stomach, leaving marks that would be hidden by your clothes, but were still a reminder of who you belonged to. All of it was expertly done, as only Five could do, and you couldn’t get enough.

The servicing wasn’t a one-way street, though. You liked to flip the tables sometimes and push him against the wall, sliding slowly down his body until you were kneeling in front of him, hands already clawing at his belt and zipper while you called him Daddy. When you would take all of him into your mouth, he would hiss through his teeth and groan loudly, his hand resting in your hair while he praised you for being good for him. He wanted you to look at him while you sucked him off, and tell you to finger yourself while you did it. You’d be choking on his dick, a hand shoved into your panties, and both of you moaning until you came; all while the throngs of Commission employees were passing by right outside the door.

It was quickly becoming apparent that your relationship was evolving into something more. You were starting to spend more nights together, sleeping in one another’s beds, curled up together and waking up happy in the morning, just to be near each other. Five loved cuddling up with you, pulling your soft body close against his, and nuzzling into your neck or hair. He told you how happy you made him and thanked you for pulling him out of his shell. He’d idly stroke your arms and thighs while you would lie together in the dark, just talking quietly. In the morning, he’d trace patterns over the white, jagged lines that criss crossed your abdomen and hips, reminding you how beautiful you were as the sunlight spilled across your bed.

Your feelings for Five were starting to seep into your everyday routines and the work you normally prided yourself on. You found yourself worrying about every assignment he went on, even though you knew he was a professional and could handle it.

After a while, the cases you started assigning him got easier and easier, whereas before you would have given him the most difficult and dangerous ones. He finally called you out on it when he received a total rookie assignment while another agent that was not nearly as skilled received a much more complicated one.

He sat on the corner of your desk, a smug grin on his face, as he dropped the file in front of you.

“What the hell is this?” he asked you, still smiling.

You glanced down at the file, then back at him. “What do you mean?”

He tapped the file with his finger. “This garbage. It’s a case for a newbie. Hell, you could probably hand this to any random person off the street and they could do it. So what’s going on?”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest and frowning. “Maybe I thought you just needed a break, that’s all.”

He studied your face and shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Every case I get from you these days is getting simpler and simpler. I just haven’t said anything until now. Are you losing faith in my abilities, is that it?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Of course not! It’s just, you know…” Your voice trailed off and your eyes flitted away from his.

“No, I don’t know. Tell me.”

With a heavy sigh, you dropped your hands onto the desk in front of you, looking up at him. “Fine. I’m scared to give you anything complicated because I’m afraid something will happen to you. And I don’t really want my boyfriend being gunned down or stabbed or beaten all to shit, ok? Especially not in another timeline where you might not even be able to come back.”

Five took a second to absorb that information, then he looked down with a smile. “You really worry about me?”

“Yes, I worry about you. Is that so bad? You might not be as amazing as you think you are. You’re not infallible, you know.”

Five made a face like he hadn’t actually considered that before, which was mildly infuriating, and then he looked at you with that gentle smile of his that you knew he saved only for you. He leaned in and gave you a quick but tender kiss full on the mouth, even though you were still in a roomful of people that could see. When he pulled away, you felt your face flush, but not from embarrassment.

“Thank you,” he whispered earnestly.

Then he flashed you that arrogant smirk again, the dimple on his cheek deepening, before snatching a much thicker file off your desk, and blinking away without another word.

It was only a matter of time, you supposed, before Corporate caught wind of your relationship. Especially when you were making erratic decisions with your cases lately. Both you and Five received a notice from senior management requesting a meeting. You were a mess of anxiety and nerves when the time came. Your career was important to you, and it was not in your nature to just throw that away for some man. But Five wasn’t just any man, was he? If you were going to have to choose between your job and your relationship with him, you had no idea what you were going to do.

Sitting in front of the executive’s desk, your leg bounced up and down with nerves as you waited for Five to join you. When he arrived, he had the absolute audacity to look calm and unbothered as he sat down in the chair next to you. He greeted the manager and then turned to give you a wink and a small smile. You really had no idea how he could be this nonchalant. Maybe he didn’t care if you had to end things.

“As I’m sure you know, the reason you two have been called here today is –”

Five cut your manager off mid sentence. “Yes, we are fully aware. According to section 64, subsection D of the Commission Code of Conduct, we are prohibited from being in a romantic relationship with one another.”

The executive paused. “Well, yes, that’s correct. And so –”

“And so you have to inform us that we either have to end our relationship or resign from our positions.”

There was another moment of perplexed silence from across the desk. “Uh, yes…”

“But that is only because of the current departments we work for, due to conflicting interests, correct?” Five continued.

“That is correct, yes. But—”

“So, if we move to the same department, that shouldn’t be an issue?”

“Well…yes…I suppose…”

You looked at Five, completely confused. “Five, what are you doing? You don’t want to work in case management. I know you don’t.”

He nodded. “You’re right. But you can train to become a field agent.”

Your mouth hung open. “What?”

“You’ve only mentioned that you were interested in being out in the field about 50 times, so why not? They can always use more agents,” he turned to the manager, “Isn’t that right?”

The man cleared his throat. “Oh. Well, yes, that’s true.”

Five nodded again, as if that explained everything. “Alright then, so move her to my department. She has the determination and skill. And you have my official recommendation, which as you know, holds a lot of weight around here.”

There was another look of bewilderment in your direction. “Yes, Mr. Hargreeves, that’s true. I suppose we could do that—”

Five stood up with a smile. “Great! It’s all settled then.” He turned to you, still sitting in your chair and trying to make sense of all of this.

What he had said was true. You had told Five many times that you wished you could have his job. But you figured that was outside of your skill set. Five didn’t seem to agree. He knew you were highly intelligent, strong, and had the right personality. You just needed the proper training.

He reached out a hand to pull you up. “Is this all ok with you, darling? Do you have anything to add?”

You shook your head slowly. “Uh, no…I mean, yes…I mean, yes I’m ok with it and I don’t have anything else to add.”

“Great!” Five turned to the manager. “Just send me the paperwork we need to fill out and we can call it good.”

The manager shook each of your hands and it appeared that the meeting was over before it began. Five guided you towards the door with a hand on your back. You looked over your shoulder, still unsure of what exactly just happened, but you let him push you outside into the hall.

“What the fuck, Five?” you demanded, hands on your hips. “You want to tell me what is happening right now?”

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? They weren’t going to let us keep dating if we were working in our current departments, so one of us had to move. And I know this is what you really wanted.”

You thought for a moment. “So…you didn’t think of breaking up with me just to keep things the same?”

His mouth dropped open and then he snapped it shut again, his brows furrowing and creating deep creases between his eyes. “No. Of course not.” He took a few steps closer to you and took your face gently into his hands, gazing into your eyes. “I love you.”

You drew in a sharp breath. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, this time with a smile.

You answered him, your own grin spreading slowly across your face. “Say that again.”

Five laughed, leaning down to kiss you and you hugged him around his waist. “I love you,” he said again after breaking away.

“I love you too, Five. I don’t know if I realized it until just now, but I do. I love you so much.”

Five nodded. “Well, that’s a relief. Because I would have looked like a giant asshole if I did all that and you shot me down.”

Laughing, you reached up for another kiss that quickly turned very heated. When you pulled away, Five was breathing hard and he tugged your body harder against his.

“There’s an empty room down the hallway over there,” he said suggestively.

You shook your head. “Sorry, honey, but we have to get to work. I have a lot of training to start on.”

“I think you forget who your new boss is,” he said in that serious tone of his.

Five pulled you in tightly again, kissing you hard on the mouth and flattened you against the wall. His hand roamed down to your chest and he gave your breast a small squeeze while pressing his knee in between your legs. When he heard you moan softly into his mouth, he backed away with a grin.

“You know, I can report you to HR for sexual harassment,” you said with a crooked smile, even though you were having a hard time controlling your heart rate.

“It’s not harassment if you like it,” he shot back before giving you a loud smack on the ass.

Then he turned around and walked away, leaving you flustered and hot; but also with that amazing feeling in the pit of your stomach from knowing you had found the perfect person to love and that loved you just as much in return.

[weaselandfriends]

The Making Of: When I Win the World Ends

(For my previous Making Of post, see The Making Of: Cleveland Quixotic.)

I. 1999

It was the year of the cubicle movie. It was the year of Fight Club, of Office Space, of Being John Malkovich, of Three Kings, of The Matrix, and of American Beauty. It was the year of suburban malaise, of eternal sunshine, of ceaseless normality. A year of United States hegemony; a year whose chief terror was that THIS WAS IT.

Before the millennium turned and the towers fell, there was an initial challenge to this order, a completely inconsequential one made consequential by a newly minted 24/7 news media machine running out of noise to fill dead air now that people were sick to bursting of the Clinton impeachment. This challenge came not through war, revolution, or violence, but through entertainment. Children's entertainment.

And I was a child. Unaware of any cultural context, I knew only one thing: I loved Pokémon. I really, really loved Pokémon.

I owned Red Version, Blue Version, Yellow Version, Pokémon Pinball, Pokémon Stadium, Pokémon Snap, Hey You Pikachu, a Pokémon Tetris sort of puzzle game, even the Pokémon TCG game for Gameboy. I had ten to fifteen strategy guides for the games, an encyclopedia of the 151 Pokémon, a choose your own adventure book, an I Spy-style book. I had Pokémon figurines, Pokémon plushies, toy Poké Balls, toy Pokédexes. I had Pokémon stamps and Pokémon stickers and a deck of Pokémon cards. Not trading cards, just a standard 52-card deck with Pokémon pictures on it. Of course I also had the trading cards. A complete set of the first three runs, plus a special Mew card you could get from I dunno Toys R Us or something as part of some promotion. I had a guide for the card game that explained which cards were good or bad even though I didn't even play the card game. I had a Pokémon Tamagotchi and Pokémon pencils and Pokémon erasers and Ash Ketchum's hat and I dressed up as Ash Ketchum for Halloween. Of course I watched every episode of the anime, and in notebooks I drew doodles of existing Pokémon and came up with names for new Pokémon. My father had died that year.

My father was a sports fanatic. Traditional sports. He, too, collected. Sports memorabilia, baseball cards, figures of famous stars. When I was an infant, he drove me on a cross country road trip to Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin, where I became a part owner of the Green Bay Packers. He had always wanted me to grow up and pursue professional sports. When I was born, the doctor apparently said to start looking for football colleges, a quote he saved in a scrapbook of baby photos. He had played sports himself, in college; he was a baseball catcher, until a hitter accidentally struck him in the head with a full force swing.

Almost everything I personally remember about him involves him dying. He was sick for a long time, and I remember hospitals and hospital beds and strange smells and gauze. And then one day my mother told me he died.

He was a charismatic man, very social and very popular. He had many friends and a lot of family, all of whom had constantly been around our house. Once he was gone, they stopped coming around. Then it was just me and my mother, who was not a fanatic for anything, except maybe her job as an elementary school teacher, which consumed her time as she assiduously prepared lesson plans and graded tests until late at night. When my father died, she got into some argument with his side of the family, the details of which I still don't fully understand, and afterward they no longer spoke. Her own family lived far away, out-of-state, seen only at Christmas. The house became quiet.

And I… played… Pokémon.

II. The Electric Tale of Pikachu

Toshihiro Ono was a mangaka primarily known for shotacon and futanari hentai. His credits such as Innyou Megami and Anal Justice made him a no-brainer pick for the officially licensed Pokémon manga, Electric Tale of Pikachu, as it too would feature a 10-year-old boy as the protagonist.

This manga would be the foundation for my conception of what Pokémon was, narratively. Though I also had the Pokémon Adventures manga that ran concurrently and which has by now long outlasted it, Electric Tale left a significantly deeper imprint on my memory.

In summary, Electric Tale is a retelling of the first two seasons of the anime. Ash Ketchum is the main character, he's accompanied by Misty and later Brock, his rival is Gary, and Team Rocket harangues him.

What sets Electric Tale apart is its tone, which is far more adult than Adventures and the anime. Obviously, part of this comes from the author's primary area of expertise being hentai. Even in the censored English version, there is a sense of sexual playfulness in how every single female character is an older woman who likes to tease Ash about his romantic interests.

But there are other elements that creep in unrelated to sex, due to the perspective of someone only used to speaking to adults who suddenly has to speak to children. Ono doesn't really get the childish fantasy of leaving at 10 being normal in society, so he introduces an element where Ash can only get a one year deferment from school and will have to return unless he hits it big. Team Rocket are former competitive hopefuls who flamed out and then, with no education or work experience to speak of, had no choice but to turn to crime. The Pokémon are depicted more realistically, often eschewing the toyetic mascot elements of their designs.

And the landscapes are often wistful, even apocalyptic in their presentation:

This more sedate, mature, realistic depiction of Pokémon became what I wanted Pokémon to be, what I projected onto an original Red and Blue version that left everything open to interpretation, and what would increasingly frustrate me with the series as it deviated more toward bombastic villain groups with goofy destroy-the-world plots. (Which was what put me off Pokémon Adventures.)

Amid all this, one panel stuck with me in particular. One panel I would think about ever since I first saw it as a child, that would turn around in my head and keep coming back. That panel would eventually—over two decades later—become the basis for When I Win the World Ends, the seed from which an entire story grew:

III. The Unkillable Demon King

But in the interim, the seed remained dormant. 1999 fell away. I grew up. I played later Pokémon games and increasingly lost interest by around Gen 4 and 5. Then I went to college.

That's when I started playing League of Legends.

I was something of a psychopath in college. I operated on a strict schedule and did not deviate. Wake up, read 50 pages of classic literature, write 2,000 words, go to classes, study, and then by about four in the afternoon all my obligations were done and it was League of Legends until midnight.

I wasn't actually interested in the League of Legends esports scene in its infancy. In 2012, I was actually invited to attend its World Championship in Los Angeles and refused. (When I received this invitation, I had just finished reading Homestuck for the first time, and was caught in a month-long haze in which I could do little but bask within what I considered the greatest artistic achievement I'd seen in my life. It was this month that inspired Modern Cannibals.) I only liked playing the game and watching Dunkey videos.

It wasn't until the next year, when a girl I was interested in recommended I watch, that I tuned in to my first professional League of Legends game, at the 2013 World Championship. It was there that I got to watch this new, hyped, upcoming Korean player who had apparently taken the pro scene by storm that season. That player was Faker.

It has seemingly become essential to the narrative of any sport that there is "the man who always wins." American football has Tom Brady, and the moment Brady retired, he was replaced by Patrick Mahomes. Basketball has LeBron James, picking up the mantle from Michael Jordan. It's as if someone being "the best" validates the skill-based promise of the sport, the fundamental top-down fairness of its premise, the idea that the person who wins is the best and deserved it. Faker would become the backbone of League of Legends esports and his ascendance correlated to that of the sport itself, from its humble roots at small-scale tournaments in places like Jönköping, Sweden, to max capacity arenas in the biggest cities in the world.

It's surprising, though, how the legend of Faker had already begun even before he won his first World Championship. League of Legends was designed as a clone of Defense of the Ancients (DotA), a popular mod for Warcraft III that emphasized competitive play. In its infancy, the competitive scene was mostly dominated by players who had migrated from DotA to League. They were older, winning thanks to a fundamental conceptual understanding of the game that was superior to everyone else, and frankly not very good in the aggregate. As League of Legends esports exploded in popularity from 2013 to 2015, these old pros would get filtered out swiftly, with even the biggest and most popular names retiring after only a couple of years in the scene.

Even once the new generation of League-grown talent ascended, though, careers were nasty, brutish, and short. The best players only remained on top for a season, as game patches dramatically changed viable strategies. Internationally the sport was dominated by Koreans, with the Korean regional league sometimes being seen as more difficult to win than the World Championship, where Koreans often breezed through uncompetitive Chinese, European, and North American squads.

This possibly affected the demographics of the professional scene. South Korea has mandatory military service, and leaving the pro scene to join the military was basically the end of a Korean player's career. This meant that it was rare to see a Korean player older than 25. Retiring in your early 20s was and remains common. Korean organizations, which had an infrastructural leg up on other regions due to the popularity of StarCraft 2 esports in the country, became adept at scouting promising players at 15 or 16, building them into top level competitive pros, wringing them dry for a few seasons with brutal training regimens, and spitting them out.

Faker was the exception. Though he had been discovered young by SK Telecom, a major Korean telecommunications company that did esports on the side, and gone through the training regimen, he refused to be spit out. He simply didn't stop. He won in 2013, then with a completely new four-man squad around him won again in 2015 and 2016 before narrowly losing the 2017 finals in a nail biter. Given League of Legends esports had only existed since 2011, he basically accounted for half of the championships up until that point. Nobody else, except for his teammates, had won more than once. And it was like it was known he would be this juggernaut the instant he manifested ex nihilo. Like it was known, even in 2013, that he would always win.

Then, Faker stopped winning.

By 2017, League of Legends esports was a titan. Venture capital firms, seeing the millions of eyeballs, thought that this was the next NBA in its infancy, and decided to get in on the ground floor. Multiple millions of dollars were pumped into the scene as even mediocre players in weak regions like North America pulled seven-digit salaries. In China, where League of Legends had become the national pastime, the nation's richest oligarchs ran teams for fun and vanity, outbidding Korean organizations for top Korean players in pursuit of a trophy that had gone to Korea every year since 2013. Riot, the studio developing the game, pumped tons of money into creating a professional sports product, with skilled announcers, dedicated arenas for regional leagues, live performances by musicians like Imagine Dragons and Lil Nas X, and all the other bells and whistles one might expect from a program watched on ESPN.

In this milieu, it seemed like Faker had finally reached his limit. He was still good, but not the best. Even as an individual, while everyone still considered him the "greatest of all time," he was considered outmatched by newer pros like Chovy and ShowMaker. 2018, 2019, 2020, and 2021 passed with no championships. In 2022, on a team of mostly rookies, he reached the world finals, but was ultimately beaten. Korea's stranglehold over the sport had been shaken by China, which had finally strung together some championships. People wondered if Faker would retire, although he had managed to avoid mandatory military service by representing Korea in the Olympics-esque Asian Games. He'd dealt with wrist injuries and his level of play dropped year over year. He just didn't seem to be that good anymore, potentially holding back his team of talented young players rather than leading them to victory.

Then, in 2023—

And in 2024—

In the end, never count out Touchdown Tom. 11 years of professional play, 5 world championships.

From this longwinded explanation, you might have realized that after watching that game in 2013, I became a League of Legends esports fanatic, fulfilling the prophecy set before me by my father though perhaps in not the way he would have expected.

And the things I become a fanatic about, I want to write a story about.

IV. Modern Cannibals

There's a deleted scene in Modern Cannibals, as Maximillion is driving Z. and her friends through the Utah desert. He starts to talk about Pokémon.

"I bring it up because my university thesis was about Pokemon in particular how Pokemon has basically trained an entire generation of children to think in a completely different way than preceding generations my generation for instance our fad was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles now I don't know how much you know about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles but from an educational standpoint we're talking absolute bankrupt complete and utter goose egg but Pokemon now Pokemon you see it's more like there's some substance to it you know that refrain Gotta Catch Em All right?" "..." "Well to most parents it looks like a marketing gimmick you make one hundred fifty-one characters and structure a game around collecting them the merchandising potential is astronomical kids buy one hundred fifty-one trading cards stickers coloring books figurines uh collectable lunchable toys I'm sure you've got some yourself."

He continues:

"But really you look at the game itself before the big toy explosion the game itself the focus is placed less on the collection and more on the catalogue you're given a blank encyclopedia to fill and you fill it by capturing one hundred fifty-one Pokemon but the goal is to create a complete database of each and every one and this is what I argue is the educational core of the Pokemon series." His hands left the wheel to conceive of his idea in the cool air of the car, which remained steady on its ever-forward path. "Our modern era is no longer one of singular isolated knowledge it is one of the catalogue the database which is most clearly personified in the advent of the internet because now all knowledge can be at the fingertips of any one human being all that is needed is someone to go and put the catalogue together and presto whiz bang it's there think about it Z. when you catch a bunch of Pokemon where do you store them?" Z. didn't need to think long to remember the game's mechanics. "In the PC." "Exactly now isn't that odd consider it in real life terms you have real life creatures made assumedly of flesh and bone and yet you store them in a computer how does that make sense you'd expect a farm or a holding pen but no it's the computer and that too prepares the budding portion of the millennial generation to become cognizant of the linkage between the computer the encyclopedia and the database structure of knowledge in a new era." "So," said Z. "So you're saying Pokemon taught kids how to think in the digital age?"

There's also a deleted character in Modern Cannibals. Well, mostly deleted—he still shows up, unnamed, in a couple of pages. He is Cole Coulter, Z.'s older brother, a popular League of Legends streamer. Before I deleted him, his role was to accompany Mrs. Roddlevan and Frederick in an attempt to bring Z. back home. He had POV scenes that gave insight into the weirdness of his cotravelers, but ultimately, I decided he didn't add anything to the story and removed him almost entirely.

Even then, though, I was already considering the future of Cole Coulter as the protagonist of a story about League of Legends esports. Playing under the ID MadKing, he would be a North American professional top laner, once known for his aggressive duelist style but recently forced into playing boring tanks as the esports metagame became more sophisticated and tactics-based.

The story would be simple, something I envisioned as a "sports story" only about esports instead of regular sports. It would start with Cole's team being relegated from the league, only for Cole to get a last chance signing to a new team with two promising Korean imports. One import, the mid laner, would be a charismatic and eccentric player in the mold of Doinb/Ganked By Mom/Huhi, while the other, an AD carry, would be introverted and pissy and elitist, in the mold of Piglet. The team would initially struggle, cultures would clash, then a mid-season replacement to sign a psychopathic Tyler1/Tarzaned style streamer as jungler would revitalize the team, put them on a major run, and get them to the World Championship. Though they would eventually fall after a miracle run, Cole would get a moment to truly shine on the biggest stage when he won a pivotal game by aggressive split pushing rather than tank play.

Thematically, the story would be about two things. First, a counterpoint to the idea of American exceptionalism, featuring a league where Americans are particularly bad compared to Korean or Chinese players. Second, an exploration of what it means to be exceptional at all. Cole would be an all-around mediocre person. Middling at school, at (real) sports, at the various popularity contests of being a teenager. League of Legends, this niche sub-sport, is the one thing he truly excelled at, the one place where he was good, better than 99.9 percent of all players, and yet even within that statistical greatness he wound up, ultimately, in a professional scene where he was once again mediocre, relegated to "tank duty," to facilitating other players to carry.

What does it mean to be the best? How can someone be so, so good, only to reach a level where they were still nothing special? Is there any way to win if you're not "the man who always wins"?

I remembered that panel from Electric Tale of Pikachu. The last people filtered before the final champion. It's certainly no walk in the zoo!

This idea was pretty detailed for a story I never wound up writing, something I mostly blame on the years 2018 and 2019, when a lot of bad things happened to me and in retrospect I consider it a minor miracle I managed to finish Chicago at all. As a human being, I would be decimated for the next three years, and so a lot of stories I might have written in that time never came to fruition.

Meanwhile, League of Legends esports reached a peak, then the venture capital bubble burst as investors realized there was no monetization scheme in place for any interested party except Riot Games. Money hemorrhaged out, Riot shifted resources to Valorant, and a sport that had been overinflated based on projected exponential growth in perpetuity fell back down to earth.

Also, Players came out.

Players was a 2022 mockumentary about a fictional League of Legends team competing in the North American league. Conceptually, it was doing a lot of what I had planned for my story: following a single team on a rags-to-riches run, focusing on the interpersonal drama of the team members, asking questions about greatness and its pursuit. It's a pretty good show if you're familiar with League of Legends esports at all, with a lot of on-the-ground fidelity that gives it an authentic feel, which is exactly what I had been hoping to use my esports fanaticism to accomplish. It completely took the wind out of my sails; it was like my idea had already been done.

So by 2022, the idea of a League of Legends esports story was dead. But there was still a drive to create something with that spirit, that would delve into those themes.

What remained after all these years of sifting the sieve, letting sand slip through, was that one panel from the manga. The number of people pursuing greatness slowly filtering until only one remained. And if I wasn't going to pursue that idea through League of Legends, maybe I could pursue it through another vehicle. Maybe the vehicle through which the idea had originally been exposed to me. Pokémon. It all came back to Pokémon.

V. Everything Evolving Into Crabs

I knew immediately that if I were to write a Pokémon fic, it would be a tournament arc. This was the natural evolution of my esports story idea. Also, if I were to write Pokémon, I wanted it to be a story about utopia, immersed within Pokémon's near-future ideal world, where everything is clean and healthy, where society is neat and ordered.

This idea caused me to remember the novel Eyeless in Gaza by Aldous Huxley, which I had read a few years back. A mostly autobiographical bildungsroman written on the precipice of World War II, the novel ends with the young protagonist on a journey to Central America, where he meets an idealistic doctor who believes sport to be a proper substitution for war. He tells the story of two tribes locked in internecine conflict through generations, able to replace that violence with soccer matches.

And wasn't that what the world of Pokémon was, a utopia revolving around neutralizing weapons of war by using them for competitive sport?

This tournament, I envisioned, would not simply be about deciding who was best, but an ideological battle for the future of the Pokémon world. To that end, I imagined a war between an entrenched trainer class, who competed as philosopher-warriors, intense individuals with deep connections to their Pokémon, and an upstart commercialization that sought to replace the ideological underpinnings that made their society so safe and prosperous with economic accumulation. It was from this kernel that the character who would become Aracely Sosa arose: charismatic, appealing, human-empathic, and propped up by a support staff who did all the hard work of teambuilding for her.

I imagined the story having an ensemble cast, focusing on nearly every competitor equally, with the Aracely character not having any especial focus until her improbable rise to the top. I imagined a final round where she faced off against "the man who always wins," and though she would lose to him, she would seem to have won the ideological battle, altering the course of society as major corporations scrambled to employ her formula for success at a much grander scale. The story would end with this realization of the earth-shattering importance behind her run, only for Aracely to sink in disappointment. Because in the end, all she really wanted was to win.

The more I thought about it, though, the less I liked the idea of an ensemble cast. The ensemble cast element of Chicago hadn't gone over very well (though I like it), and I figured it would wind up inflating the length of the story considerably. I was coming to the end of Cleveland Quixotic, after all, and once more wanted to write something smaller, tighter, and denser.

So I oriented my thinking to instead have the story revolve around Aracely and one major rival, to give an interpersonal mirror to the ideological war being waged. Thus, Toril came about as an antithesis to everything I had imagined Aracely to be: gruff, antisocial, independent. Their rivalry would culminate in a semifinals battle, before Aracely went on to fight "the man who always wins" in the finals.

I forget exactly when the gender theme came into the equation, but it evolved as an outgrowth of (once again) my competitive League of Legends expertise, where women are essentially nonexistent despite there seemingly being no biological blocks against them. This dovetailed nicely with Pokémon, a world where women seemingly could be powerful competitors, but where—in the anime at least—none ever are. For instance, look at this chart of every major tournament in the anime:

Every known winner is male. Every known finalist and semifinalist is male. Only a handful of female characters have reached the quarterfinals. What possible in-universe justification could there be for that?

This question was actually far more prominent in early planning and drafting than it wound up being in the final work. Initially, I had Aracely's personal motivation revolve around a drive to be the first female trainer to win; this would increase the ideological conflict between her and Toril, who attempted to ignore that she was female altogether. Over time, this theme would see diminished importance in face of the last piece of the thematic puzzle: cults.

It came from reading Underground by Haruki Murakami, a nonfiction journalistic account of the 1995 Tokyo sarin gas attacks carried out by the cult Aum Shinrikyo under the direction of its leader Shoko Asahara. Japan in the 90s was experiencing its own End of History, one taken literally by those disaffected with modern society's grand narrative. The prophecies of Nostradamus became fashionable among the young, who believed that 1999 would be the final year before the world was destroyed. Murakami interviewed both survivors of the gas attack and members of Aum Shinrikyo, collecting worldviews of people who simply thought they were "different" and who were willing to give everything in their lives to the one place that seemed to accept that difference.

The 1995 attacks were a watershed moment in Japanese culture. In their wake would come pivotal works of Japanese pop media, like the titan of otaku culture, Neon Genesis Evangelion:

(What's scary about Nostradamus' prophecy is that it might not come true. A year whose chief terror was that THIS WAS IT.)

Pokémon, whose first games released in Japan in 1996, also emerged within this post-Aum world where fixation on the minutiae of pop media was becoming a primary pillar of meaning for the youth, and it's hard not to see echoes of cultism in the evil teams that dot the series' landscape. Even Team Rocket, originally more modeled on organized crime than occultism, veers that direction in Gold and Silver, and afterward the organizations and their world-ending plots become increasingly absurd, to the point where it starts to become unclear why anyone would ever follow, say, Lysandre.

As I mentioned earlier, my personal interest in Pokémon was at odds with these clownish, Saturday morning cartoon villain organizations, but Murakami's account of the Aum attacks recontextualized them for me, made them make sense even within the framework of a "realistic" utopian world. The last elements snapped into place, and I knew my main character would be the member of one of these cults. A cult dedicated to, what else? Evolution. A core element of the Pokémon series, a perfect metaphor for the frustrating lack of movement of the End of History 90s. I imagined a cult leader as a surrogate mother figure for Aracely, who would have a strained relationship with both of her own parents, and deciding on that, the idea of making Pokémon's canon evil mother Lusamine the villain was a no-brainer. I imagined a post-SuMo Lusamine, unable to move on from her experience merged with Nihilego, languishing in Kanto after being sent there to consult with Bill, who had his own experience being merged with a Pokémon... It didn't take long to figure out how all these pieces connected.

The full form of the story had taken shape.

VI. Showdown

I knew immediately I would be following Showdown rules for the battles. No alternative even crossed my mind. I had dabbled in Showdown a few times over the years, first in Gen 3 OUs, then later in Gen 7 OUs, and I knew from experience that Pokémon is a monumentally more interesting competitive game when operating at a high level compared to either its depiction in the anime (shounen logic, mid-fight evolutions) or the general playing experience (spam your best move on your overleveled starter). I knew I would use competitive rulesets before I even considered the thematic or worldbuilding aspect I would eventually take in the story itself (i.e., that the specific rulesets prevent battles from becoming bloodsport and enforce order on the world). I simply thought doing battles this way would be far more entertaining.

To prepare, I started playing Gen 9 OUs under the guidance of a few friends who were into the competitive scene. I grinded the ladder for months, eventually getting a good enough grasp on the metagame to reach 1500 Elo on the Showdown ladder, which is not very good but generally higher than someone can reach with dumb luck.

Crafting the tournament format and rulesets used in the story wasn't difficult. I modeled the tournament format on the League of Legends World Championship, with region-based seeds (having been selected due to performance in regional tournaments) competing in four groups before the highest performers advanced to a single elimination bracket. Initially, I envisioned a 32-competitor bracket instead of the 16-competitor bracket that would appear in the final draft, but otherwise the format came quickly and easily.

In terms of the rulesets and available Pokémon, my considerations were made primarily in terms of what would be most entertaining to read. I decided to include Mega Evolutions and not include Z Moves, Dynamax, or Terastallization, because Mega Evolutions are cool and those other gimmicks are not. The bring-9-pick-6 format, while unusual in Showdown rulesets, is similar to the rules in Pokémon Stadium and VGC tournaments, and also adds a level of intrigue to which Pokémon each competitor uses. (It also enabled Red's Zapdos at the climax of the story, which was something I knew I would bring out from very early on.)

With the help of one of my friends who knew competitive Pokémon, I scripted out each battle assiduously before I wrote them. Every battle was tested using Showdown itself, with only a few turns mocked up to account for luck. For instance, in Aracely versus Jinjiao, Slowking is meant to stay asleep for three turns. Rather than rely on luck to ensure Slowking actually slept that long during the test, I could give Slowking a useless move and have him use that instead to simulate being asleep.

The only thing that couldn't be tested in Showdown was the 7 PP Kingambit trick Red uses at the end of the story, because it's impossible to set a Pokémon to have fewer than max PP in Showdown. This led to one of the bigger mistakes of the story, as it turns out that Encore would simply wear off if Kingambit ran out of PP, rather than forcing him to use Struggle like I assumed. Luckily, even if this were the case, it wouldn't change the outcome of the battle, so it's not an error I lose too much sleep over.

Character teams were chosen to thread the needle between a few considerations. The team needed to be competitively viable, reflect the character's personality in some way, and be distinct from other teams for the sake of variety. (Variety is somewhat unrealistic in real top-level competitive Pokémon, where you'll often see many almost identical teams in the top ranks. But that would be boring.) Some lack of optimization was allowed under the conceit that actually training these Pokémon to peak form would take a lot of time in the real world, compared to Showdown were optimization can be determined quickly due to the ability to immediately adjust stats and builds.

I also tried to give some preference for Pokémon that would be more familiar to layman fans, though this was difficult because Gen 8 and 9 have outrageous power creep and many popular early generation Pokémon have been completely phased out. (Using Megas helped with this issue.) It was this consideration that led to Azumarill being Aracely's ace. There was also an innate challenge to imagining what the competitive scene would look like without legendary Pokémon. Zapdos and Landorus-Therian have been inexorable staples of the competitive scene for generations. What happens in a world where they aren't used at all?

In the original 32-person bracket, I imagined Aracely competing against Jinjiao in the first round, then minor characters Adrian da Cunha and Jacq Ray Johnson in the next two rounds, before facing Toril in semifinals. I imagined Adrian da Cunha as a "hometown hero" whose team wasn't great but he was plucky with a lot of grit, and Jacq Ray Johnson as a self-aware heel who liked to use cheesy strategies and gimmicky Pokémon like Smeargle and Ditto. Condensing from 32 to 16 occurred around the same time I had settled on Lusamine as my villain/cult leader, which led to replacing those two with Gladion. I developed full brackets for both the 32-man and 16-man iterations, with character names and regions, just in case I ever needed to mention them.

All that was left to do was write the story.

VII. Unbroken Line of History

I began writing in September 2023 under the tentative title Unbroken Line of History, which I would later change to simply Lines. In the original drafts, I opened the story with a modified version of the panel from Electric Tale of Pikachu detailing how people are filtered over time in their pursuit of being the best, this time starting with all 8 billion people in the world until only one remains. The story then cut to Aracely's perspective in the restroom as she mentally prepared for her final group stage match.

At this point I was more set on Aracely being the clear protagonist of the story, so she had a few facets of her personality designed around that. First, as I mentioned before, there was a feminist angle where she was motivated specifically to be the first female trainer to win the championship. Secondly, I threw in some more generic nervousness/fear of failure. The other major difference is that I did not lead with the cult prophecy of the world ending. I originally envisioned the cult reveal to be a mid-story twist, and only obliquely hinted at it.

The scene still played out with Toril appearing and the two getting off to a bad start. Then, Cely's father tried to talk strategy with her while she ignored him, before the battle transpired in much the same form as it does in the final draft.

I showed this early draft to my friends and most disliked it. My girlfriend at the time told me Cely sounded like an edgy 13-year-old boy, while my neuroscientist friend whose aspirational idol is Bondrewd from Made in Abyss wanted to know more about the oblique hints of a cult, finding everything else boring. Another friend said it was stupid that there were 30 seconds between turns during the battle and that the Pokémon should just go at each other; nobody would actually want to watch a battle that was paced so slowly. (I vehemently disagreed with that take. Basically every popular sport balances between slow-paced moments of strategy and fast-paced moments of action and execution.) Some people I showed it to did enjoy it, though. Gazemaize, the author of Chili and the Chocolate Factory, was especially enamored by the Brittany/Gardevoir reveal and the Bud Light Analyst Desk, and implored me to keep both of those elements at all costs. 7th, one of my friends who helped me with the Showdown stuff, was so into it she drew fan art of all the characters (which I've posted before) and also wrote eight pornographic short stories about them.

I rewrote the same opening scene several times across October and November, though these were minor iterations without significant adjustments. Frustrated with the lack of progress, I decided to take a break from writing to simply think about the story for a few months.

During this time, to fix Aracely's edgy 13-year-old voice, I decided to lean into her being from Pokémon Los Angeles (with her native region, Visia, being a play on "visual" as a reference to Hollywood) and gave her a Valley Girl accent. To prepare for this, I listened to hours and hours of ASMR videos of people speaking like Valley Girls and took notes on their inflection and syntax. It was here where I decided on Aracely's underlining quirk, as a way of capturing the unique style of emphasis Valley Girls used.

This also made me realize I needed to adjust Aracely's personality. Despite the tone of her voice, she was still acting antisocially. She didn't want to talk to her father, she didn't want to talk to Lachlan Nguyen, she didn't even really want to talk to Toril. Toril herself was a lump of coal. My own misanthropy kept leaking into the characters, even when I conceptually didn't want them to have it. I thought back to Cleveland Quixotic, and how what made the Jay and Viviendre romance work was that they actually both liked each other, and figured—even though I didn't have explicitly romantic plans for Aracely and Toril—that I needed to do something similar to make their rivalry truly pop. Rather than avoid people, Aracely would lean into talking to them, even if they were annoying. Although Toril remained frigid, there would be a part of her yearning for emotional contact, a way to coax her out of her shell.

I also thought deeply about the structure of my stories in general, and my inability to come up with good hooks. It was around this time that someone I knew was reading Chicago. They pointed out that the plot of Chicago doesn't really start until Chapter 26; that I was "burying the lede." I considered this. My logic, when writing Chicago, was that the Empire moving to take over Washington would be a twist, something that would shock and excite people and change their perception of the entire story.

But did that make sense, when really the story was "about" that twist? Didn't that just make everything before the twist harder to get into for a reader? Chicago might look radically different if I revealed the Empire's goals immediately, but it would also probably be a more immediately engaging work. I'm a big fan of delayed gratification in storytelling, but had I taken it too far?

This was a major revelation for me, and immediately I understood what I needed to do for my Pokémon story: move up the cult plotline. Place it front and center. Name the whole story after it even. I decided on framing the opening scene from Toril's perspective, depicting Aracely initially more as an alien other, emphasizing the fact that she was in a cult rather than hide it behind foreshadowing. This could also lead to Aracely and Toril having more of a dual protagonist setup, which would make my planned two-half finale (one half where Aracely battled "the man who always wins," one half where Toril got involved in stopping the cult's doomsday plot) work even better.

Confidence resurged. At the end of January 2024, my girlfriend of seven years  and I broke up. A few days later, I started writing the sixth—and ultimately final—draft of When I Win the World Ends.

VIII. When I Win the World Ends

Now it's the part of the Making Of where I actually make the thing I'm supposed to be making, but there's a lot less to say about it. Once I have a plan, the actual writing of the story is the easy part, and most of what I wrote—with a few exceptions—looks similar to the story as it exists now.

There were some oddities. I wrote the first seven chapters (everything up to the end of the Jinjiao battle) and then had to take a two week break to write a short piece for a writing contest I had entered in December as part of an effort to stop overthinking WIW. After this interruption, I returned to WIW writing perhaps a bit more perfunctorily than I usually would, leading to an original version of Chapter 8 (the chapter where MOTHER makes her first real appearance) that was short and abbreviated. Later, in editing, I would rewrite most of this chapter.

A few ideas emerged while writing, like the motif of serendipity/Logos, which I felt tied nicely to the ideas of evolution and history. It was also in this draft that I introduced Cely's friends Haydn and Charlie, as a nod to an earlier work of mine also featuring a fashion-obsessed girl from Los Angeles. (Speaking of nods to earlier works, in the original 32-man bracket, Cole Coulter featured as one of the competitors, but he didn't make the 16-man cut.)

The process went smoothly. I finished the draft at the end of May, a little under four months after I started it. I had envisioned the full story as being about 70,000 words, but the draft ended up closer to 115,000. Underestimating story length is just an essential element of the trade, though.

A few days after finishing the draft I went on a four-day Oklahoma Darkness Retreat where I had access to zero electronics. The goal was to think about my story deeply and how it could be improved in the editing process.

In this time chamber, where I did nothing except complete crossword puzzles and read The Recognitions by William Gaddis, I came to a realization. There was one element the story needed that wasn't already there.

That element was Sabrina. In the original draft, Sabrina was not present during the scene where Aracely meets the Old Man. She was mentioned obliquely a couple of times in conjunction with Aracely's "psychic powers," but it never really built to anything. There was still a scene where Aracely was interrogated due to her relationship with MOTHER, but only by nameless goons, and the scene lacked tension as it was clear Aracely could talk circles around them.

When I returned from Oklahoma, I prepared for my conception of Sabrina as a character by writing an 8,000 word short story from her perspective, which hashed out an entire backstory for her. Then, I started editing the draft.

For me, a lot of editing is just polish. Usually, cutting out needless sentences and fixing clunky ones, as well as emphasizing a few of the more understated themes and motifs. For instance, during editing, I made slight additions to emphasize the thematic connection between Aracely's suicide attempt and the global war that almost destroyed the world, as well as the connection between the moon and cyclical insanity (lunacy, etymologically, being related to the moon). I made the Old Man more of a Walt Disney-esque figure (from my notes: "a dying Disney"), rewriting much of his dialogue to either be direct quotes or to evoke his ideals. I also expanded on several of the scenes where Toril and Aracely interact to make their relationship more complex and nuanced. I gave MOTHER some new dialogue, including her speech in Chapter 18 about loving a child for the potential it promises, while also paradoxically wanting it to remain a child forever.

The largest changes were in the three chapters I almost fully rewrote. The first was Chapter 8, which as I mentioned earlier was overly terse. In the original draft, it depicted MOTHER as more pathetic, more dependent on Aracely. I decided to make her a more threatening figure, and incorporated a few references to the Moloch sacrifice scene from Valle Verde to make her seem more like a false idol. Similarly, I rewrote Chapter 12, which was originally a very short chapter that focused solely on a conversation between MOTHER and Nilufer that ended with the order to kidnap Aracely. In rewriting the chapter to include Fiorella, I gave myself more opportunity to flesh out the respective philosophies of her and MOTHER (including some of the story's most salient discussions about why cults exist), as well as give more of an insight into the inner workings of RISE as an organization. And lastly, I fully rewrote Chapter 19 to include Sabrina.

The last changes I made in editing were to the final chapter. When I finished the final draft of the story, I sent it to several readers, many of whom had looked at the original drafts of the first chapter, as well as julirites, the author of a Fargo fan fiction called London. There was an immediate and minor backlash to the final chapter, which was originally much more pessimistic, from most people who read it. In the original version, Aracely and Toril were not still in communication. (Fiorella was also dying of cancer instead of jockeying to replace the Old Man.) The finale had a much more somber, sedate, tragic note. Juli and 7th disliked this sad ending, while Gazemaize wanted me to cut the final chapter altogether. I felt confident that the final chapter was necessary, though, and revised it to its current version, which was much better liked.

And then... the story was finished, near the end of July. I crunched the numbers and realized that if I posted two chapters to start and then did a twice-weekly posting schedule, I could end the story serendipitously on October 12. So I did.

IX. Names and Special Thanks

In my Making Of post for Cleveland Quixotic, I had a fairly extensive list of where I got all the character and place names from. The list is a lot less extensive here; most names I constructed for the purpose of sounding evocative, rather than taking them from someplace specific. For instance, I chose the name Aracely Sosa because it sounds like whistling with its repeated S sounds, compared to Toril Lund which is a lot harsher with its consonants. You can see a similar rationale behind names like Fiorella Fiorina, Yui Matsui, and even some of the background characters, like Jacq Ray Johnson, Jr., where there is a lot of emphasis on alliteration and rhyme.

There are a couple of exceptions. Jinjiao is the in-game ID of a longtime Chinese League of Legends pro of middling notability. He picked the name (which means "Golden Horn") as a reference to the Golden Horned King, a villain from Journey to the West.

Lutz, Fiorella's cameraman, was named after an extremely minor character from Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance, who is not playable and only appears in a singular cutscene before being killed. They are so irrelevant that despite naming a character after them, I actually forgot their name, which is Lotz, not Lutz.

Haydn is named after the famous classical composer.

Special thanks to 7th and Elick320 for helping me with the teams and battles. Thanks to Gazemaize and julirites, among others unnamed, for reading and providing feedback. And thank you all for enjoying the story.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

How about the towns people reacting to the farmer who despises joja. Like, think about it. The farmer left their soul sucking office job at joja behind only to see them again right across the bridge. I bet they would support the community centre out of spite.

They are normally a friendly and sweet person but the moment joja comes into the conversation they snap a little. Morris talks to them and their left eye twitches rapidly cuz this guy reminds them way too much of their old boss. They have dark dreams about the blinking lights of the work and rest lights and the bosses looming over them through the glass in their office.

Locals swear they see the light disappear from their eyes whenever they accidentally fish up a joja can.

Oh man, That's just about a perfect description of my OC Farmer. He is by nature a very kind and patient man, but every time he sees JojaMart, catching more trash with that logo on it, or sees people who use every means, even mean ones (remember that scene with Morris), to destroy the competition and become monopolists, he gets very sarcastic. Sometimes, it can be just pure rage.

But let's not talk about my OC, because the question here is about a neutral farmer 😅 So enjoy, dear anon!

SDV townies react to the Farmer who despises Joja:

Marlon's mind is more on protecting the Valley from monsters than on boycotting some store. He wouldn't have known about this until one day Farmer came in with a bunch of soda cans with the Joja logo on them, while swearing about the same logo. They told to the one-eyed adventurer that they had fished this cans of the mine waters at level 100. How these soda cans managed to end up in literal lava without burning or even deforming from the lava's temperature was a mystery to Marlon.

Stardew Valley has its own zest that makes the place unique, and according to Penny, JojaMart is ruining that uniqueness. Plus they constantly put promotions on the beer and ales they sell, which Pam just can't refuse. So Penny isn't too thrilled about Joja.co appearance in Pelican Town either.

How Willy understands them! There is already so much garbage floating in the sea from Joja's products that has endangered fish and other marine life. And the mart that was built here has only made the problem worse. So the old sailor will support the Farmer if they want to kick this corporation out of Pelican Town.

Not that George would care much where his wife bought the leek: from the farmers or from that huge store. After all, a leek is a leek no matter how you cooked it. Still, though, memories of his grandfather and his farm bring back fond memories of things that used to be both simpler and better. He's also annoyed by the loud music coming from the speakers in that supermarket, which is "supposed to attract customers" but distracts him from his nostalgic thoughts. Can't he have some quiet time in his own home anymore! If the Farmer wants to stage a boycott, then George will be the first of the participants!

Oh, this is so much fun! Abigail feel bad that she provokes Farmer on purpose, but it's not her fault that her friend gives such a funny reaction at any mention of Joja. "Look, Sam bought me a Joja cola, you want some?" *Possum hissing*

Haley thinks the Farmer is a fool. The only civilized supermarket in town, and Farmer looks at it as an insult to all humanity. Yes, the quality of the clothes leaves a lot to be desired, but there are a variety of sweets to choose from! And there's plenty goods for farming, too. The girl doesn't understand what Farmer's problem is.

Whoa whoa, easy, why the outburst of rage? What? Yeah, Alex bought a dozen eggs at JojaMart. After all, he needs protein. Hey! What's the Farmer doing? Give it back, why did they take the eggs?! If they wanted some egg, they could just ask! Wha?... Oh, the Farmer gave him three dozen eggs. These are from their farm? Uh, thank you. So big, and much better quality than he bought from Joja..... So, how's he gonna explain to Grandma that Alex now have three dozen eggs?

Gus sincerely hopes the Farmer doesn't vandalize his Saloon, at least as a sign of respect for the very owner of the establishment and his property. Because they've been looking at that Joja soda machine for too long. It's like they're trying to desiteng this poor vending machine. He may also have to take Joja Coke off the menu.

*Gasp* Hee-hee. Oh, Marnie can't stop laughing. To be honest, at first the young Farmer's angry stare and scolding caught her off guard and frightened her a little. But later, she can't stop giggling after every barbed comment towards Joja.co, their old boss and "colleagues".

Sheesh, wow. Sam would never have thought that a person could cringe like that at the mention of Joja. The young guitarist should think twice before opening a can of Joja Coke with Farmer standing next to him, because they will vaporize that very can with a look.

Jas already knows what natural resources are and has often heard from Miss Penny that many huge corporations often abuse and deplete these same resources. And this thought makes her sad. But she does not want to quarrel with anyone, so Jas will offer the Farmer to draw a poster together so that Joja will respect nature and makes products that do not harm animals and plants (spoiler: it won't work, but the Farmer was very touched by the girls’ idea).

Bad food? Bad store? But Mr/Mrs Farmer, why do you say that? Vincent doesn't really understand why they hate that store so much, where he often goes with his mother to visit his older brother and buy groceries. His mom even also buys him ice cream in the form of a dinosaur! Because dinosaur is so cool. What? Do they have a living dinosaur?! In a coop? Can he take a look please??? The farm is much cooler than this "Jodja'! Mom look, Mr/Mrs Farmer has a pet dinosaurs!

Oh, that whole blue trash things makes Leo and his bird family very sad. So he understands why the Farmer is so upset too. But the boy is not discouraged and wants to make a clean-up day together with Farmer, Linus and the parrots. Maybe the Joja people will see the beauty of nature and stop littering!

Oh, no, Farmer. You don't need to show so much negative emotion! Emily herself is not fond of Joja and their constant pollution of the environment with their waste, but absorbing so much anger and spreading it to others is not the best way to go about it. She does worry about the Farmer's mental state and will offer them meditation classes to get rid of the bad thoughts associated with the old job and Joja in general.

Shane would probably be the second person who truly hates Joja. Stupid, energy-sucking job, stupid boss who makes him work overtime, stupid uniforms that don't fit him and that make him itch. Can the occasional theft of beer and frozen pizza from Joja's warehouse be considered a form of protest?

Caroline nearly dropped her tea cup when Farmer literally hissed at the mention of Joja and Morris. The two of them were sitting alone in her sunny room drinking tea and Caroline was a little sad that her husband's business had gotten tougher since JojaMart had come to town. She had heard from the Mayor the reason for the Farmer leaving their old job and truly understands their decision (after all, life in the big city can be very tiring). Though the young Farmer's reaction to the mention of Joja.co has her a bit amused.

But when Pierre walked into the sun room (to pick up his gardening tools) where his wife and Farmer were sitting, and heard the conversation about his store and Joja, he started wailing and whining about the desperate situation. And the shopkeeper would wholeheartedly support Farmer in the idea that everyone would be much better off without blasted Joja! However, when the Farmers were about to leave, they thanked Caroline for the tea, and finally, with a sly smile, said that "Joja will not stay here for long". What this meant, neither Pierre nor his wife understood.

"Fuck! Fucking bitch ass Joja with their fucking cans and CDs! I want fish, not that dog ass shit plastic! Rot in hell, you goddamn corporation, bunch of bastards and rats!" Sebastian is used to Farmer's tirade by now, and watches from the kitchen window, sipping his coffee, as his poor friend has been trying to fish the mountain lake for the past two hours. Judging by their profanity, fishing was not going well.

But poor Maru, who almost dropped the wrench on her foot, heard the Farmer's profanity for the first time and thought something was wrong. When she went out to inquire after their fortunes, they were already sitting on the shore crying... and surrounded by the garbage from Joja.co. The young inventor invites Farmer into the kitchen for a cup of coffee with her and her half-brother.

While the brother and sister consoled Farmer with words and caffeine, Demetrius, seeing that there was now a lot of plastic lying nearby, offered to the Farmer take his recycling machine and scheme if they wanted more machines. Recycling would help to bring the environment back to its former state, also the recycled garbage would become useful products for the farm! Demetrius thinks it's unlikely that they'll be able to boycott the huge company in any way, so it's better to help the ecology like that at least.

Robin almost died laughing. "Holy macaroni, you swear like an old sailor!" She really didn't expect such profanity from such a quiet and kind person, but her son and daughter were not the only ones who heard the poor youth's tirade after a bad fishing trip. But Robin doesn't want to tease the poor Farmer, so she goes along with her husband's offer to take their recycling machine.

Oh dear, don't be so furious, you get a headache! Evelyn can understand why the poor Farmer is upset, but she would hate to see such a kind and sweet youth in a constantly bad mood because of Joja. Maybe they'll drop by for tea? She just baked cookies, and didn't use Joja products, granny promises! *wink*

Linus can feel Mother Nature weeping and choking on all this garbage and waste. And how her crying has gotten stronger since Joja their big store in town. The wise man stays calm though and tries to comfort the Farmer, because anger clouds his thoughts and it's impossible to think of ways to help nature.

Hmmm, dear, but Joja is full of good gardening supplies and farming seeds, and at a low price. Jodi thinks they should look in there and get something for.... Oh, okay, fine. Jodi won't mention Joja again, or she gets the impression that nice Farmer is transforming into a beast before her eyes.

Now, now... There's no need to get so angry or you'll get high blood pressure, Harvey knows what he's talking about. Anger is inherent in everyone, but he is well aware of how mental problems later affect a person's physical health. So if Farmer doesn't learn to control their anger, then it will be Dr. Harvey himself who gets angry. And take his word for it, Farmer, he will scold you severely.

For all his desire to help Farmer, Rasmodius feels he should not interfere in people's lives, much less use magic for it. Plus, he feels that there's no point in looking for an answer to solve a problem when the answer is right in front of them. Hmm? What is he talking about? Ah, young adept, the forest spirits will show you the way, you just have to learn to listen to them carefully.

Leah knows what it's like to live in a big city at an energy-sucking job, under the all-seeing eye of a mega-corporation (also with her ex who mumbling everyday about more profitable professions). And when Leah sees JojaMart, her mind involuntarily returns to that unpleasant part of her life. To be honest, she would also start snarling and hissing like a Farmer because of Joja or any other company that is trying to greedily take Stardew Valley for itself.

Elliott bows before Farmer: to reach such a peak of eloquence, masterfully masking sarcasm in conversation with the help of barbs and epithets - such a level was not even reached by Elliott himself, even with his rich vocabulary. The writer doesn't know why this manager from Joja.co angered the always good-natured Farmer, but Elliott made a note to himself to never get on the Farmer's bad side.

All right, kiddo! Don't bark at the store like a guard dog! Do Pam a favor and move your bum away from the main JojaMart entrance, she has to get a dark ale on special, plus a 15% off coupon. Huh, don't like Joja? Then don't look at them and problem solved! Like a piece of cake.

The tired father had to put his hands over Vincent's ears more than once to keep the youngest of his sons from hearing the endless stream of profanity from their new Farmer about the greedy megacorporation. Though Kent would be lying if he said the whole rant didn't make him laugh. Still, he tries to hide a smile under his wife's stern gaze.

All right, enough! Why don't you stop swearing, there's little kids walking around! Lewis can understand anything, but not useless swearing. The town mayor really does miss the days when they were all at the old Community Center, but yelling at Joja won't do anything. What do you mean the "Community Center will soon be alive again"? Farmer? Where are they going? Yoba, they're just like their Grandfather. Sigh, what a daredevil...bless your soul, my old friend.

Satisfied with his work and how quickly the number of visitors to JojaMart was growing, Morris didn't even notice how, when talking to a new resident of the Valley (aka "potential customer"), the poor "listener" had a twitch in his eye and a cringing their face. Well, one gets a tic, he doesn't really care. Although when Morris was at the restored Community Center where people started boycotting Joja, now his eye started twitching.

[hauntedhokage]

Day Two: Exhibitionism & Body Worship

Nanami Kento/Fem!Reader

summary: nanami’s got an office crush, and it turns out that you’re into him too. 

word count: 1.8k

warnings: public sex against a copy machine, marking, exhibitionism, possessive!nanami, nanami is kinda ooc but it’ll make sense i promise

note: I think about miserable corporate Nanami often because I, too, am a corporate girlie that is (occasionally) miserable

He’d had his eyes on you for a while, you’d started working at the company around the time that he did and being the first person he’d really met in the building already had you leagues ahead of the others he hasn’t met yet. Nervous during your first few days, you’d almost clung to him for the first few months because he was the only person you knew from the orientation days - plus the other men of the office always looked at you weird and you didn’t like it. As he grew exhausted of the day-to-day monotony, you seemed to keep that chipper exterior which had you quickly promoted to a senior role despite your short tenure with the company at that point. 

You were damn good at your job. Intelligent, laser focused on the market trends which made you quite skilled at getting sales (even when the markets were down, something that thrilled upper management). While he didn’t understand how you did it, he could respect your drive to succeed in this environment. He’d grown to admire you because of it, but that admiration turned into infatuation and he quickly came to the conclusion that you were the most beautiful woman on the floor - likely in the entire company. He wanted to devour you.

He understood why his coworkers and even managers would oogle as you walked by. It didn’t matter what you were wearing, there was always a whisper after you were supposed to be out of earshot about how hot you looked that day. He couldn’t say that he disagreed, even when you were wearing a turtleneck and jeans you were just as attractive as you were in a skirt and blouse the showed off plenty of your skin that he wondered if it was as soft as your voice was when you were speaking to him. He supposed you trusted him more, due to the fact that he wasn’t audibly wondering if you were single, or making propositions on a constant basis to take you out for drinks. On occasion he’d bring you coffee, or you’d drag him away from his desk to eat something besides the bread he’d brought in that morning - he had a closeness to you that no man in the building could ever hope to achieve. Those lecherous losers were jealous of him - and they should be. 

“Good morning, Kento,” you greet, leaning against the table beside the copy machine he was using. Too many figures needed to go to too many managers for signatures - waste of both paper and his time. “I would’ve handled those report copies for you, I know how stuff like this can grate on you.”

“You’ve got a hard enough job trying to encourage them to hit quotas, I couldn’t waste your time with this.” It's when he finally looks over at you that he sees what you’re wearing, the silky black shirt he liked so much with the top three buttons undone instead of your usual two. Likely to show off the necklace you’d gotten for your recent birthday, but he’d discreetly admire the way the swell of your breast was on display for him due to your height difference. “You look lovely today.”

“Thank you.” You’re smiling, batting those pretty eyelashes at him while playing with the papers in your hand. “I feel like you’re the only man here that appreciates my appearance instead of sexualizing it all day.”

“A woman like you should be admired, treated with care and respect.” 

“And you’d treat me with care and respect?” Your hand rests on his chest, and he’s glad that he left his blazer at his desk when his body begins to heat up at the contact. “We’ve got about half an hour before anyone starts to show up, wanna show me some proper respect?” 

He’d worship you if you’d let him, and that has him dropping to his knees in front of you. His hands hold your hips, fingers kneading into your body while also searching for the zipper of your skirt. As desperate as he was to have his hands on you, to taste your beautiful skin, he was not going to ruin your clothes. 

Except maybe the pantyhose that obstructed his path to truly feel your skin. 

“Forgive me, but I promise to replace these,” is all he says before ripping at the flimsy fabric, rolling it down your legs before bringing one of them up so he could comfortably kiss the side of your leg by your knee. You were just as soft as he’d dreamt you’d be, and he looks up to meet your gaze as he kisses and sucks - leaving the occasional bite) along your thigh as his other hand kneads at the flesh. “I’ve never told you how beautiful I’d always thought you were. Thank you for providing me this opportunity.”

Your hand pushes into his hair, the perfectly combed style instantly messed up by how you’re petting his head as he makes his way up to your core. Your mound is covered by black lace, the fabric pushed to the side so he could kiss around your labia while murmuring to you how beautiful your pussy was. You’re already soaked, juices pooled at your entrance that he eagerly laps up, your taste better than he could’ve ever imagined. His groan into your entrance brings a moan out of you, your hips pushing against his face as he grips them again. You could do whatever you wanted to him, and he’d take it all with no complaint. 

His finger carefully probes your entrance, and he’s pleased by how easy you take him. Your gummy walls almost welcome him with how they coat his finger in slick, making it easy for him to ease a second digit in to work to stretch you out. Your soft moan when his tongue drags along your clit, and he enjoys peppering kisses around your little clit as he fingers you. He doesn’t exactly want to make you cum this soon, but if it happened then it happened. You’d just have to give him another if you did. 

“Kento,” you sigh, sounding heavenly as you roll your hips into his hand. “Kento please, I’m gonna cum.”

That’s his cue to stop, sliding his fingers from inside you and enjoying the disappointed whine that leaves you. 

“Patience,” he chides softly, undoing his belt and pants so he could free his throbbing erection. “Gonna give you everything.”

His fingers are taken into your mouth as he pushes his cock into your waiting entrance, and he loves the way you moan at your taste while taking him so beautifully. The way your tongue lavished his fingers with attention, trying to clean every millimeter of your juices from his skin - making him wonder how much attention you’d give his cock in later events. 

Your eyes close as he bottoms out, his soft sigh making you smile around his fingers before you release them with a pop. He hears your heel hit the floor as your leg moves with the rhythm of his first few thrusts against the copy machine, the plastic creaking with every push against it. The thing was probably fifteen years old, liable to break after he was done with you, but this was not the time to worry about damage to company property. 

“You’re so tight, made just for me huh?” he murmurs, kissing at your neck before nipping at your jaw. He soothes that spot with a kiss before sucking at the skin there, knowing you shouldn’t have a hickey on your face - or anywhere visible, really - but he couldn’t care. Knowing that you’re marked by him, so everyone knew you were his, was much more important than protecting either of your reputations. 

He hears footsteps but cannot be bothered to care, not even when one of his coworkers stops in the doorway in shock at what was happening in the copy room. You’re letting out small moans with every thrust, and his hands are trying to get more buttons of your blouse undone so he could properly stare at the chest he’d spent years admiring.

Your breasts looked beautiful as they bounced, your bra barely able to keep them in place until his hands pushed down the cups to free them. One hand sets to idly kneading one of your breasts, fingers occasionally rolling and pinching your nipples as his mouth busies itself with your other breast. Your moans were sure to draw attention to your less than professional actions, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from properly adoring your body and delivering the utmost pleasure that he could provide at seven in the morning on a Wednesday. 

By now a crowd has formed, a herd of eager men all trying to get a look at the most beautiful woman in the office getting fucked against the copy machine. He’s normally a territorial and private man, but in this instance Nanami doesn’t care because it means these men know you’re off limits. You’re his now, only his, and your neck and breasts would be covered in marks that will serve as a reminder to everyone just who would be taking care of you. 

“K-Kento!” You’re also unconcerned by the crowd and how they watched, the occasional wolf whistle and flash of a camera trying to capture your beautiful body as it moved with his powerful thrusts. If anything, he was sure it had turned you on more judging by how you had tightened around him. 

“Sound so pretty when you’re moaning for me,” he praises, leaning in to suck at your neck to leave yet another bruise against your otherwise unmarked skin. “Let me hear you some more, please?”

“Y’like me that much, huh?”

“Think I love you,” he responds, pressing his face into your neck as he feels you tighten around him some more. “Gonna show them how beautiful you are when you cum for me?”

“Uh-huh.” He’s got you so close you’re practically whimpering for him, your hands messing up his hair and fingers digging into his shoulder hard enough that if it wasn’t for his shirt he’s sure your nails would break his skin. When you did this again, he’d make sure you did to mark him up as much as he’d marked you up. 

It’s when you’re cumming around his length, your juices dripping onto his pants before he pulls out to paint the copy machine with his own spend, that he knows that he’s truly in love with you rather than simply liking you. 

Fuck, was he lucky. 

“Uh, Kento?” you ask, snapping him from his fantasy and sending him plummeting back to the reality that was standing in front of a copy machine with you now waiting for him to finish so you could use it. “Are you okay?”

“I apologize, were you needing something from me?”

“Uh, not exactly.” You’re avoiding his eye contact now, fiddling with the papers in your hand. “I was going to ask if maybe you wanted to get a drink, or have dinner with me?”

“That sounds like a wonderful evening. There’s a restaurant not far from here that I enjoy, when would you like to go?”

And after plans are finalized, you leave the copy room - he assumes to go to your desk - and he realizes you’d left your papers on the table. One look tells him that they were blank, meaning that you used waiting for the copy machine to have an excuse to talk to him in a secluded place.

Those losers never had a chance. 

[delta-pavonis]

OKAY. OKAY.

HEAR ME OUT.

Hellknight!Hob wearing this. Chest hair and tiddies out, full happy trail, all of it...

Of course, I think about that, and that inspires a ficlet. And then that ficlet turns dark. So... *shrug* *shoves new baby out in the world*

Rated T

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time Hob sees Dream is when the latter has the audacity to enter the Morningstar's realm. He watches as the Dream King intimidates Squatterbloat into bringing him to the Palace. The demon is stupid and gullible, easily swayed, and Hob has a mind to bury his morningstar in the moron's fleshy head, but he would rather observe the visitor and his raven from the shadows.

Hob trails them, the straps of his armor expanding and morphing to cover his body with the mottled charcoals and midnights that are the palette of Hell. Squatterbloat leads the King in a circuitous route to their destination, passing a cell whose occupant not only commands the attention of the sovereign of the Dreaming, but whose pleading pains him. Curious.

He follows the pair of black figures beyond their guided tour, all the way into Lucifer's Hall, sliding unnoticed through the crack in the main doors. Hob is good at his job. He hadn't been successful at being a bandit and cutthroat in life for nothing.

Hob takes a place in the long shadows of one of the pillars and observes.

Apparently the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares is here in Hell to retrieve his helm, one of his important symbols of office. And of course it is some overly ripe idiot like Choronzon who has it. Sometimes Hob just wants to kill them all and promote new individuals to the positions of power, sometimes the house can't be cleaned, it needs to be razed and rebuilt.

But what is truly awe-inspiring is watching the battle between Dream and the Morningstar themself. The Dream King wins, although not handily. It makes the victory even more impressive. Hope. Of fucking course. Hob is quite sure that he has never seen the Lord of Hell so visibly angry in all his 600 plus years in the underworld.

Helm secured and confidence restored, the Lord of the Dreaming is proud and... well, he is incredibly beautiful. He is sharp angles in soft greys and blacks, luminous white skin draped in flowing ink, spikes of hair wafting against gravity.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Hob follows Lord Morpheus and his raven back outside. They walk slowly through the barren, twisted landscape, calculated and careful. Imperious.

Hunger ripples down Hob's spine. He wants.

The Lord stops, body going more still than death. "I am here in my official capacity as King of Dreams and Nightmares. You have followed me for long enough. Show yourself, fiend."

The Dream King's voice is so much deeper and darker than Hob expected and now it is directed at him and it goes directly to his cock. He decides to drop any pretense all at once.

Hob has no shame as he steps out from hiding, the shadow-plates sliding back and leaving him in what really amounts to a series of leather straps and a loincloth, buckled to accentuate the triangle of his torso and the strength in his chest, with sleeves from biceps to palms. The Knights of Hell need no metal protection - they shield themselves in darkness and guile - and so Lucifer Morningstar gives them intangible weapons: the ability to inspire lust and envy as much as wrath. He drops his physical weapon and holds his hands out to his sides.

"Dream King," Hob inclines his head. "I am not here to harm, nor am I here at the behest of my Lord, the Lightbringer." He meets the King's piercing blue eyes and has to grit his teeth to hold in a gasp at how sharply they cut into his breast.

That look trails from Hob's head to his toes slowly, then back up. Judging. Assessing. "So why do you dog my steps, Hellknight?"

He shrugs and takes a step forward. There is no reason for Hob to not be bold. He has long been dead. He has been a resident of Hell and served the Devil themself, has lived that fate worse than death, for almost seven centuries. He has, quite literally, nothing to lose.

So Hob nudges a the magic at his disposal into the cant of his hips, the tilt of his head, the purse of his lips. He lowers his eyelids and takes another step towards the luminous being of black and white before him. "I merely wish to look my fill before I can no longer."

"Bossss..." The raven flies a nervously tight circle above them. He is summarily ignored.

"You wish to more than look, Hellknight, for I can taste your dreams." The Lord of Nightmares snarls as he takes multiple steps to get into Hob's personal space. "You dare-"

Hob laughs loud enough to interrupt him and those ice shards widen in shock. "Oh, yes. I dare." He steps up once more and now their faces are within inches of each other. "How do you think the Morningstar trains their knights? Do you think there is anything you could do to me that would be worse than 700 years of this?"

The resonant chuckle that curls across Hob's skin should probably worry him, but he cannot muster such sense when he is watching the pupils of the Dream King's eyes bleed black outwards, eclipsing his eyes entirely, and wholly captivating Hob. "Lucifer Morningstar's sins often get in the way of their... creativity."

A pale hand shoots towards him and Hob braces for impact, for pain.

He gets nothing of the sort.

Fingers that are the coolness of a lake in summer skate with hedonistic gentleness across Hob's cheek. The palm cups Hob's jaw sweetly. Honeyed breath caresses Hobs lips before they are pressed together. Then he is being kissed with the fondness and warmth of a dear lover.

And that is when Hob realizes that he has vastly miscalculated.

Against his better judgement, Hob is lost to the tide of it. The softest touch of tongues morphs into lazy familiar licks, mapping Hob's mouth as if to memorize, immortalize.

The King of Dreams pulls away and Hob is left panting and hazy.

"I touch you, I kiss you, as I would a lover, as I would my beloved." The King whispers it like a benediction. Hob gasps at the horror that settles into the marrow of his bones. "And never will you feel it again."

And then he is gone.

Hob watches, frozen, as each stride the King takes covers miles. It is only when they have disappeared over the horizon, both Lord and Raven, that Hob realizes tears are streaming down his face.

[detectivestucks]

A Jealous Hokage V

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader x Obito

Summary: You make a decision as the Gala approaches, Kakashi drives you wild when you attend the event before he and Obito make a spectacle in front of the entire international community

Warnings: NSFW, Slight degradation, Oral, Unprotected Sex, Toy Usage, Violence

Word Count: 6k

Part 4

New here? Check out Part 1

You wake up the next day feeling heavy. It felt like Kakashi was forcing you to choose between him and your career. Years of studying, hard work, and climbing the ladder all to be thrown away over a boy. You worked so hard to get assigned to high profile projects, you spent so many long nights proving your worth to become team lead of your division, you’re about to meet with the board for a promotion that you’ve been anticipating for two months. Your career is finally taking off and Kakashi wants to come in like a wrecking ball and discredit everything your hard work achieved. 

You love how everyone views you as the exceedingly smart and dependable linguist. You dread the idea of being viewed as nothing more than the Hokage’s girlfriend, using her boyfriend’s influence to get the job she wants. Not to mention the target that will be on your back from all the jealous fangirls who dream of dating him. Scores of women will try to sabotage you or harm your work all for the sake of stealing your relationship away from you. He acted like this was no big deal but publicly becoming the Copy Ninja’s girlfriend was actually a very big adjustment and one that you were not mentally braced for. He was right though; you can’t ask him to wait till he steps down as Hokage. If you are serious about maintaining your relationship, you will have to face the music eventually. 

You couldn’t help but think about how much easier all this would be if you had never started seeing Kakashi and had met Obito first. The feelings were there. That you couldn’t deny. You were relatively sure that he already loved you and you could see yourself grow to love him in the same way. No one would care if you were to date a regular Jonin. Everyone at the office would keep praising your work ethic and intelligence and Obito would stand by your side and celebrate your success rather than detract from it. Plus if his genjutsu was even a little accurate, he was a good fuck too. 

You begin to shake your head. Stop thinking about that. It wasn’t real. I chose Kakashi.

Wrought with indecision you decide to go dress shopping to distract yourself. You needed something for the Gala in a few weeks and you would possibly need some alterations done before the night of the party. Not wanting to go alone, you swing by your officemate’s home to see if she could come with. 

“Absolutely! I’m sure my husband would be much happier if I go with you instead of him.” 

You both giggle at the sentiment and head to the market. 

“You doing okay, Y/N? You seem a little down today.”

“Oh, ah, it’s nothing. Just some personal issues.”

“Uh-oh, does this have to do with mystery man?”

“A little. Well, a lot.”

“What happened? Or are you going to keep me in the dark like usual?”

“Well, he doesn’t want to be a mystery much longer.”

“Which is reasonable”

“But I really think it will impact my upcoming promotion.”

“Why? Are you dating one of the elders?” She says sarcastically

“Of course not.” You laugh “But you know how important my work is to me and I don’t want it ruined over some guy.”

“Well is it really ‘some guy’ when you’ve been seeing him for months?”

You think about this before you speak. “There’s…there’s also another guy.”

“Woah! Two guys at once? Is that why he’s a secret?”

“No! Nothing like that! He has just made it crystal clear that he’s interested in me. He seems great and well, being with him wouldn’t negatively impact my career. It would ‘be easy, the way it’s supposed to be.’ Or at least that’s what he says.”

“Want to know what I think?”

“Desperately” you say with sincerity

“I think that the first guy must mean a lot to you if you want to date him despite how it could hurt your career. I know how much your work means to you, so it tells me a lot about who he must be.”

You give a weak smile, relieved that your decision to stay with Kakashi was validated.

“But where does that leave me with the whole, going public thing?”

“Well, you have that meeting with the board coming up soon, right?”

“Yes, they assigned me that Class S project that’s due in 3 weeks and the board meeting is right after. They want to see if I can ‘handle the pressure of leading a team that interprets S Rank intel’.”

“They act like you’re not already doing that.” she laughs.

“Yeah really”

“But anyways, how about, you wait till after the board meeting? See if you get the position and then go public after you’ve had a few weeks to settle into the new job.”

“I don’t know…”

“I’m just saying, it gives him a date so he’s happy, and it gives you time to establish yourself as the boss before your lovelife becomes a factor in your professional life.”

“You know what Shiho, that is sage advice. Thank you. Now what advice can you give me about this dress?”

“It’s stunning. The jaw of every man, including mystery man, will be on the floor.”

You smile at yourself in the mirror. She was absolutely right. Kakashi would have to forgive you if he saw you in this. He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you. 

****************************************************

Going into work the next Monday was painful. You had a meeting with Kakashi to discuss the status of your project and he was incredibly cold to you. You know it wasn’t cause he was mad at you, it was because he was hurt. It also probably didn’t help that the catalyst for your interaction was due to the very reason why you wouldn’t go public about your feelings for him. 

You needed to talk to him. Tell him your decision. Tell him about the timeline Shiho suggested. You tried to linger behind after the project briefing but new people kept coming into his office so you didn’t get the chance. 

At the end of the day Kakashi swung by your office. You were working late as usual. He stood there watching you while you were lost in thought. He sighed and walked away without saying hello.

Obito however also decided to come check on you, striding into your office like it was his own. 

“Oh come on Obito, now I can’t remember what I was just thinking.”

He leaned against your desk, “Don’t worry Princess, you’re smart, you’ll remember.”

You grimaced at him. “That’s not the point. I don’t like being interrupted when I’m working late. That’s the whole beauty of being in my office alone at night.”

“I thought the beauty of being in your office alone at night was so that I could bend you over your desk.” he says with a wink, getting close to you, seducing you with his sultry voice.

“Obito, we talked about this.” Though deep down you had to admit that does sound appealing.

“I’m sorry Princess. I just came to check on you.”

You look down embarrassed. You had a fight with your boyfriend and immediately cried in the arms of his romantic rival. You’re a terrible girlfriend. “Thank you Obito. I’ll be fine though.”

“Did you make a decision?”

“Ah, the real reason you came to see me.”

“Of course not Princess, but you know I had to ask. I do have a vested interest after all.”

“I’m still dating Kakashi.” you say with a look of exasperation “…if he’ll have me.”

“He will have you. He’d be a moron not to.” He says pulling you into a hug. 

You were starting to enjoy his hugs. They always made you feel better. You were sure they were just a way for him to touch you but you could tell it was also because he had grown to care for you. You take a deep breath while in his arms. Inhaling his musky scent. You relaxed completely in his arms as you exhaled. Feeling relief wash over you, you let go of him, ready to begin working again.

“Let me go make you some tea, and then I’ll leave you be.”

You give Obito a small smile as he leaves your office to head towards the break room. This would be a lot easier if he’d just be an asshole.

****************************************************

You tried for two weeks to get a hold of Kakashi before finally giving up on catching him at work. Instead you went straight to his home directly. You were just going to have to risk being seen if you wanted to speak with him. You give the door three quick knocks. Nerves getting the better of you. 

You could hear him get up to answer the door. “Angel” he smiles before letting you in.

Not thinking, you immediately rush to hug him, holding him tight. Butterflies are released the second you touch him. He hugs you back. “I’ve missed you Kashi”

“I’ve missed you too Angel”

Your heart ached upon seeing him again. You knew you missed him but just how much was unknown to you till this exact moment. You could’ve cried had you allowed yourself to. 

You swallow hard before clearing your throat. “I’ve come to negotiate with you.”

He cocks his head to the side, “Oh you have?”

“Yes, I have.”

He gave a smile, playing into your hand. “So what is it that you propose?”

“I propose that we keep our relationship private for another 6 weeks.”

“I propose that we go to the Gala together as a couple.”

“Kakashi, you know I have the board meeting coming up. That determines if I finally get the position as head of the department. Please allow me to get the position on my own, without you being a factor.”

“That meeting is in another week. Why do you wanna wait six?”

“I want time to establish myself in the position before the rumor mill goes wild with theories about our relationship”

“Fine, I will accept your terms.” He says seriously but with a twinkle of happiness in his eyes.

You beam up at him. “So are we good?”

“Yes Angel, we’re good” He pulls you in kissing your cheek as he pulls you over to the couch to lay with you. “You know, since I can’t go to the Gala this weekend as your date, I thought of a way you can make it up to me.”

Uh oh. You look up at him pensively. “What do you have in mind?”

“Oh not much, just a little toy I picked up for you.”

“A toy?”

“Yes, I think you’ll like it.” He gets up and goes to his room, coming back with a small pink pad with a bump in the middle. There was a wicked smile on his face. 

“What is it?” you say, standing up.

He pushes the pad between your legs so the bump in the middle kisses your clit. Pressing the remote he kept hidden in his hand, the pad began to vibrate. Immediately you locked your legs together and hitched forward, clawing at his shoulder for support as the vibrations knocked the wind out of you. Your moans bounced around the room as his eyes darkened with lust. He turned off the remote allowing you to return to standing. 

“I want you to wear this in your underwear to the Gala this weekend.”

“Kashi, people will notice.” you say with urgency.

“It’s up to you to make sure that they don’t.”

“What if they hear it?”

He turns it on again, making you groan, slick instantly puddling in your thong. “I don’t know about you, but all I can hear are you pretty little moans.” He pushes it into you harder before turning it off. 

You nod your head accepting your fate. “That’s a good Angel” he says with a masked kiss on your cheek. You take the toy and deposit it into your bag. 

“See you on Saturday” he coos in your ear.

“See you Saturday, Kashi” you say with your eyes closed. It felt like home to have him whisper in your ear once again. You left for home with your heart fluttering. Relieved that he was happy again and relieved that you had six weeks to get yourself ready for the shit storm that would hit you once you made your affair public.

****************************************************

The night of the Gala finally came. You were a little bit anxious about interacting and socializing with all your coworkers and so many important officials from other nations all at once. Not to mention the part where Kakashi would be tormenting your clit at any given moment. The pink silicone pad rested in your black satin thong, pressed into your heat by the elastic band.  The small ridge in the middle nestled snug up against your clit which throbbed with anticipation. You take a deep breath before you enter the room. Immediately by the door you see Obito who is talking to Genma, Kotetsu, and Izumo.

“Wow” he whispers audibly. 

You walk in wearing a slender, floor-length, glittering black dress. The bodice was snug against your chest, diving down in a deep V that showed your entire cleavage. The fabric gathered up at the slim straps that reached over your shoulders and criss crossed down your back to your waist. The skirt flowed down to the floor with a slit high up on your thigh, showing off your plush leg and dainty, strappy black heels. You wore the matching earrings that Kakashi gave you special for this occasion and around your neck draped the glittering stone necklace with the bright pendant resting between your breasts. Your hair was pinned up on one side with large waves cascading down past your shoulders. Since you loved to emphasize your natural grace, you chose light eye makeup with thick mascara and extra highlighter on your cheekbones. 

Upon your entrance many members in the crowd turned to gaze at you. The room began to quiet down as several of them gawked at your beauty. You felt incredibly shy by the room’s reaction and quickly sought out Shiho to go talk to. You bypass Obito, knowing nothing good would come from interacting with him, and looked straight ahead, doing your best not to see his reaction out of the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, she’s pretty to look at but she’s married to her job.” Genma says in response to Obito’s jaw falling to the floor.

“You don’t want a girl like that. She’d never give you the time of day unless you were one of her dusty scrolls.” Izumo piles on. Kotetsu laughed in agreement.

“You’re all idiots” Obito growls as he walks away searching for better company.

You meet up with Shiho and her husband. 

“Wow, you look stunning!”

“Thank you!” you say, casting your eyes down. You know that you’re beautiful but it still makes you bashful for people to be so forthcoming with compliments. 

“So, is mystery man here tonight?” 

“Shiho!” you say in an urgent whisper. “I don’t want anyone knowing anything till that day that we agreed upon at the dress shop.”

“So he went for it.”

“Yes, he went for it.”

“Well I’m happy for you.” 

You smile. You’re happy too, but soon you’re going to have to face your punishment for hurting Kakashi’s feelings and you’re dreading the moment that he enters the room.

The room dims and there is a man by the doorway. He comes out to begin announcing the important guests of the evening. They begin with the Feudal Lords of the other nations and their Kage, followed by their family members and invited guests. After the members of the other great nations enter the room, they announce the Feudal Lord of the Land of Fire and the Hokage.

Kakashi enters the room in his ceremonial robes and your heart throbs for him. As much as you want to see him in a suit, you feel so proud of him for the position that he earned. 

Soon after he enters the room your breath hitches. He turned on the vibrator.

Already?! Couldn’t wait a second, could you?

“Is something wrong?” Shiho asks

You laugh it off, “No, everything’s fine, just a cramp from my heels.” Kashi please turn it off.

“Okay” she says unconvinced.

Enjoying the company of other intellectuals, Shikamaru enters your circle right as Kakashi disabled the vibrator. 

“Good Evening Shikamaru”

“Good Evening, Y/N. How are you tonight?”

“I’m doing well!”

“How’s that project going? I hear you’re almost done”

“Yes, it’s going well.” 

Temari enters the conversation anxious to be near Shikamaru and at the same time Kakashi flips the switch back on.

“Y/N, this is Temari, she is the Kazekage’s older sister.”

“Nice to meet you!” you say through a pained smile. Kakashi, why?! This is too mean.

“So I hear you have a meeting with the board at the end of the project. Are you nervous?”

“Very much so” you say, your face turning red from embarrassment and arousal.

“Oh, what’s the meeting for?” Temari asks

“They’re thinking of making Y/N head of the department” One of the elders interjects as he joins the group for conversation. At that moment Kakashi raises the intensity of the vibrator. You feel you are going to collapse if he doesn’t stop. 

You desperately look around the room. He’s standing in the corner deep in conversation with Gaara and the Raikage but glances over in your direction. You know him well enough to be able to tell he is smiling a devilish grin under that mask when he sees the panic on your face. You silently plea for him to turn it off but instead he increases the speed out of spite. Kashiiiii! But as you shake hands with one of the retired jonin the elder just introduced you to, he finally turns it off again. 

You feel a wave of relief rush to your core as you catch your breath. 

It seems that everyone wants a chance to speak with you tonight and the circle of people around you is growing rather large. Kakashi is having boisterous fun turning the vibrator on and off all evening but eventually there are too many onlookers so you head over to find some refreshments, preferably some sake to desensitize your aching clit and relieve your embarrassment. 

 Finally alone for a moment you scan the room. You see Obito talking with his old classmates in the center of the hall. You noticed that he looked very handsome in a suit. The juxtaposition between the elegant fabric with clean lines against his battle-scarred face was erotic. He could have any woman in the room. Why did he always set his sights on you? You sigh wishing Obito would move on when Kakashi approaches you slipping off your earring as he whispers, “play along”

“Oh, Y/N, you seem to have a missing earring.”

“Oh no! It must’ve fallen out.” you exclaim looking at the ground.

“Do you need help looking for it?”

“That would be very appreciated, my Lord.”

“Let’s retrace your steps.” His hand glides to the small of your back as you walk back the way you came in search for a coat closet.

From across the room Obito spots you. His chest pangs as he sees you and Kakashi sneak off together knowing exactly what the two of you are actually up to.

You reach a secluded closet down the hall and he shoves you up against the wall. 

You smile as you look at him with those bedroom eyes he loves. You know you're gorgeous tonight and you know he wants to devour you. 

You playfully take his Hokage cap and wear it while pulling down his mask to kiss him. 

“Now this is a Hokage I would die for” he says as he lunges in to kiss you. You feverishly make out, pawing at each other’s faces, as the Hokage cap falls to the ground. You hadn’t been intimate for several weeks. Your pent up sexual frustration was boiling to the surface. 

Kakashi sucked and bit your lip till it was swollen and red making you look extra pouty. 

His inner wolf emerged as you played with his hair, mouth open, taunting him with your lips. 

He grabbed you tight, squeezing you with all his strength as he kissed you long and slow. Savoring your taste like he was discovering your lips for the first time. You slipped your tongue past his lips, licking the inside of his mouth. The two of you moaning together as your tongues danced in each other’s mouths, dry humping to the rhythm of your synchronized breathing. 

Eventually breaking apart, he stares at you, scanning you up and down. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look more beautiful than you do here tonight.”

You blush looking at the ground. “Well, I was trying to impress the Hokage. Have you seen him?” you look up innocently. A smile stretching across his face. 

“I can’t wait to see how beautiful you look on our wedding day.”

You gush at the idea and how ridiculous it is to be talking of marriage when you’re currently hiding your affair in a coat closet at an international event.

He grabs you forcefully by the shoulders pulling you in to kiss once more. You start to undress him, taking off his robes and his dress shirt underneath so that you can claw at his muscular chest and back. 

“That’s not fair Angel. I can’t mark you while you wear that dress but you can scratch me up all you want?”

“Shinobi know better than most that life’s not fair” you say, nuzzling your nose against his before sucking on his neck and collarbone that you know will be hidden under his mask.

Infuriated at the situation, Kakashi promptly pulls down the straps of your dress to mark your tits. All your previous markings had healed. There was no sign on your body that you were taken and belonged to him. It was time to remedy that. 

“Aaahh!” you sing as he overpowers you and starts biting down on the flesh of your breast. You missed the painful bliss of his ravenous teeth. He put his hand in his pocket and turned on the vibrator. 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!” It was much more fun to play with when you were allowed to moan and sink into the pleasure. While your mind swims from the vibrations, Kakashi takes one breast in each hand and goes back and forth between the two, marking, kissing, sucking, and flicking your nipples with his tongue. You loved it so much that you had to muffle yourself with your hand so no one would open the closet door and catch you. 

When he was done he squeezed your tits extra hard in his large hands before moving the slit of your skirt aside so he could gain access to your cunt currently being massaged by his toy. He uses his hand to push it into you  while he reaches in his pocket to put the intensity on max. You wail pushing a second hand over your mouth. 

“Do you like that Angel?” he coos as he tries to take your hands away from  your mouth. It’s like he wants us to get caught. You think to yourself but the thought is quickly stolen from your brain as he pulls down your underwear and replaces the vibrator with his tongue swirling all over your bud.

Your knees give out from the pleasure and you fall to the closet floor. Kakashi instantly climbs on top of you, his crotch above your face. He spreads your legs clutching around your thighs diving in on your delicious sex. You whine and moan wiggling under him as he dines on everything your pussy has to offer. 

“You taste devine. Just as sweet as I remember.”

Lust consuming your actions, you undo the ties of his pants pulling out his length. Stroking him aggressively, lifting your head to swallow him while his face is buried between your legs. 

He sucks hard on your clit eliciting a moan that vibrates along his entire shaft currently stuffed between your lips. You hear a mischievous laugh from between your legs. You whine and wiggle in response. He continues lapping at your heat while you bob your head up and down on his cock. 

You feel him go rigid before he bites down on your bud. You yelp, his length still filling your mouth. Kakashi readjusts his weight and begins thrusting into your throat. Gagging and choking on his cock, spit dribbles out of your mouth and tears leak out of the corner of your eyes while your face reddens from oxygen deprivation. You are about to tap out when he finally rips his length out of your throat and you gasp for air. 

He gives you a small upside down kiss before maneuvering to align himself with your heat. His tip pressing into your entrance, the familiar feeling of fullness stretches you once more making you hiss in excitement. He pushes your wrists into the floor as he sets his pace between your legs. You let your head fall to the side as you close your eyes enjoying the sensation of having him inside your pussy once more. Walls sucking his length in deeper and deeper, Kakashi leans down to lightly kiss your neck. You hum, feeling your mind go blank with joy and pleasure. His sack lightly tapping between your cheeks with each thrust. 

He lifts up your legs over his shoulders to deepen his angle. Your strappy black heels on either side of his face. You begin to mewl and moan now that he is kissing your cervix. Feeling yourself begin to tetter on the edge, ready to topple over in orgasm. You reach up to him to bring him down closer to you. 

His eyes ignite and he presses your legs into you snapping his hips into your plush behind at a wicked pace. You begin to feel rug burn on your back as he thrusts with all his might, utilizing every muscle in his body. You lift up your hand to stop your head from banging into the wall of the closet while the other grabs a tight hold of his neck. You want to scream but instead you mutter his name along with various curses under your breath.

“That’s it Angel, take every inch”

“Fuck baby! Fuuuucccckkk”

“That’s a good little slut. Taking my dick on the floor of the coat closet.”

“Oh Gods Kashi, Fuck!”

“You think I didn’t notice you chose a dress with a slit in it, just like I wanted. You’d been planning this. You wanted to be my little closet cumslut.”

“Yes, my Lord. I want to be your little cumslut.”

“Does your tight little pussy want my cum?”

“Ye-e-e-e-s-s!” You barely say between thrusts.

Kakashi grunts as he thrusts even faster than he already was till he spills his spend inside of you, stroking it deeper inside of your walls. Taking great pride in the thought of you spending the rest of the Gala feeling his cum leaking out of your pussy into your underwear. 

The two of you lay together on the floor of the coat closet both half naked catching your breath. What a site it would be if someone were to open the door. 

You grab his hand and hold it. An involuntary smile stretches across his face. He so badly wants to walk back out into that room holding your hand. He wants the world to know you’re his. You belong to him, from your delicious body, to your marvelous mind, all the way down to your beautiful soul. For now he will have to just admire you from across the room. Those 6 weeks cannot go by quick enough. The first thing he is going to do is take you on a very public date. He already knows exactly where; he’s been planning it since the night you came to his house. 

You sit up, adjusting your skirt so that the slit is back to the side where it belongs, and lift your straps back over your shoulders covering up the love marks on your breasts and ribs. You wipe the runny mascara off your cheeks and smooth out your hair. There's not much that can be done about the rug burn on your back so Kakashi grabs one of the shawls that was hung up and gives it to you to drape over your shoulders. 

You fluff his hair and straighten his cap. Walking out of the closet together, beaming at the other. He gives you back the earring he took and pockets the pink toy, letting your clit rest for the remainder of the evening. Besides, now it was his cum that would be toying with you as it slides out into your thong and coats your inner thighs.

When you re enter the ceremony hall Kakashi takes a left and you take a right, headed over to the group your officemate is talking to. Obito happens to be in the conversation and it seems that you interrupted the group giving him a hard time about being single. Great, just the conversation I want to have around him. Ebisu suggests that Obito should date you, since you’re both single. You both exchange heated looks before your officemate speaks up and spills the beans that you have a secret boyfriend. You shoot Shiho a look of rage. Is she dumb or drunk?! Obito toys with you knowing you want them to change the subject.

“You have a secret boyfriend, eh?” He asks

“I’m too focused on work to date.”

“Oh really? Is that why I see flowers delivered to your desk?”

You glare at Obito. “Would you drop it already?” Your face becoming more flush as the heat spreads to your cheeks.

Kakashi, noticing how Obito was messing with you, approaches the group. Feeling jealousy creep into his heart, he can’t take it anymore. You’re his, no one else’s. He just wants Obito to shut up. He stands next to you and quietly grabs your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, exposing your relationship to the entire Gala. 

“Holy shit” you hear your officemate whisper. 

“Wait, really?” someone else says

“Kakashi’s your secret boyfriend?” Ebisu practically yells to the whole room.

You see Obito’s devastated face before he leaves the Gala in a hurry. All you can do is look at the ground as the entire room breaks out into a whisper, all gossiping about your now public relationship.

“This isn’t what we talked about Kakashi” you whisper to him, eyes fixed to the floor, enraged by his action.

Shiho then says, “Yeah, I would’ve kept this one a secret too, Y/N. Had I known he was the guy you were talking about, I would’ve told you to never go public with him.” She looked up at Kakashi disapprovingly. Seeing his action for the selfish deed that it was. This was definitely going to impact your promotion and she knew it.

Feeling humiliated you leave the room and head for the door. All eyes were on you as you left, resisting the urge to cry in front of all the feudal lords and Kage of the five great nations. 

How could he do this to me? So publicly and in front of the entire international community! And with the board meeting in just 9 days!

Once your face meets the cool night air you begin to sob. Walking aimlessly in your heels, it didn’t matter where you went as long as it was far away from everyone at the Gala. 

Your vision clouded by tears, you didn’t notice Obito standing in front of you. You collided into him. He clearly had also been on the brink of tears. 

“Please Y/N, don’t be with Kakashi.” He begs, “You should be with me!” You knew he was serious; he called you by your name.

“Stop Obito! I can’t deal with this right now.”

“He doesn’t even respect you enough to obey your wishes! I KNOW you were not okay with what he did back there!”

“My relationship doesn’t concern you Obito!”

“Yes it does! I would never do that to you! You know that I would always respect you and your job.”

“Obito, you literally came to my place of work to ask me on a date!”

“But you weren’t secretly dating me.”

“No! But you knew I was in a relationship with someone else!”

“Princess…”

“No Obito! Don’t act like you’ve been a saint! You think I’ve forgotten how you ambushed me on my way home, how you always break into my apartment to see me, that you put me under genjutsu twice?!”

“Princess, I-I’m sorry, I-”

“YOU PUT HER UNDER GENJUTSU?!” Kakashi roared. 

He heard everything, having followed you after you left the Gala. He knew Obito was causing trouble but this was unforgivable. 

“Careful Kakashi, don’t start a fight you can’t win.”

“You’re a dead man.” He hissed. 

Usually the voice of reason, Kakashi only looked like the man you loved but he sounded and was behaving like a totally different person.

Chidori singing in his hand, Kakashi dove for Obito. Obito just stood there as Kakashi moved through him. 

What the hell? How did he do that?!

Kakashi tore off his Hokage robes and pulled out a kunai hidden in his pants. Obito did the same. Both men armed and ready for battle. 

What is happening right now?! 

You begin to panic as they lunge at each other in impressive hand to hand combat. Their tijutsu skills are unbelievable. They soar through the air as they kick each other, swinging their fists faster than you’ve ever seen anyone move. 

You finally collect your wits realizing you have to stop them. You can’t possibly step in, their skills far exceed your own. You yell for them to stop, begging and pleading with them but you are white noise in their ears. 

You run back to the Gala in your heels to get help. You see Shikamaru outside having a smoke with Temari. You grab him by the sleeve, dragging him with you, running over to where Kakashi and Obito are. Temari runs behind you. 

“Hey! What’s going on?!” Shikamaru yells in surprise.

“They’re gonna kill each other?!” you cry. He starts running with you. You round the corner and see that they have brought half the street to rubble in the midst of their battle. 

“Oh shit.” Shikamaru stops under the street light to use his shadow paralysis on the both of them, holding them hostage midswing. You can tell it took enormous strength on his part to hold these legendary shinobi at bay. 

“Calm down!” he shouts. “You’re creating a scene in front of the entire global community! Do you have any shame?!”

The both of them begin to sober up, their rage ebbing slightly. They calm down enough for Shikamaru to release them. 

“If I catch you sniffing around her one more time I’ll kill you.” Kakashi snarls. 

“Believe what you want Bakashi, but she loves me too and if I were the one she met first, it would be me who she’s with, not you.” 

The truth of his words stung, looming in the air between you. He was absolutely right, in another reality, you probably would have been with him. It shattered your heart to think about it. 

Obito marched off into the night while you looked up at Kakashi teary-eyed.

Kakashi regained his composure, collecting his ceremonial robes and cap from off the ground. “Let me take you home.” he says, sticking out his elbow. 

“Okay” you whisper, taking it. Leaving behind the spectacle you just made as Shikamaru and Temari watch you leave.

You didn’t want to think about the fight you just saw. You didn’t want to think about the fight you were about to have with Kakashi. You didn’t want to think about what people were saying back at the Gala. You didn’t want to think about how people were going to treat you on Monday. You wanted to run away but for now you would settle for turning your mind off and walking home on auto pilot in complete silence.

Part 6 Masterlist

[crazyqueenmoon]

LEADING A TIGER

Atsushi x Fem! Secretary, both mid-20s

Setting: 1960s AU

TW: sexism, mentions of s*xual harassment, CW: Drinking, smoking, implied NSFW stuff

!MINORS DO NOT READ!

So I’ve gotten back to watching the rest of Mad Men after so long. Though I haven’t finished it, it’s definitely a show I’ve found myself loving and find kinda similar to BSD in terms of its themes and workplace setting. Though they’re TOTALLY different as shows. Mad Men has no action, gore, or flashy characters and is 100% grounded in real life, so if you can’t be down with that stuff in a live-action show, expect to be bored AF. I’ve come it with some head-cannons around the 1960s. Also, Joan is one of my favorite female characters ever and I love Atsushi. Their personalities are completely opposite from each other, and this idea of Atsushi being this new employee at the ADA being shown around the office by a tsunderish secretary and them falling in love was just begging to be written, so here it is:

• The ADA would be like the Sterling Cooper office but with far less drama and gossip. The office would still look nice, but not nearly as nice

• You’re the badass, snarky head secretary of the ADA, refusing to settle for anyone’s BS. The Agency would not function without you helping all the higher-ups and you have a multitasking ability which allows secretarial tasks that typically take 8 hours to be completed in 10 seconds

• Unfortunately, most people have a hard time taking you seriously when it comes to your ambitions and underestimate your intelligence.

• BC it is the 1960s we’re talking about, unfortunately some of your male coworkers will be sexist a-holes that believe women aren’t supposed to be in higher positions/ ask for raises and should accept where they’re at and not be so demanding:

-Kunikida would say this to you after he got overhears you saying that you ought to be promoted. (I know you all love Kunikida and talk about how he drinks Respect Women juice, but this is 1960s Kunikida we’re talking about NOT Regular Kunikida. Plus Regular Kuni does kind of conduct himself in an old-fashioned way, so it doesn’t surprise me.

-You can expect Dazai to harass you and hit on you every single day unfortunately. He’ll also joke about how you’ve only gotten the job BC you offered Fukuzawa s*xual favors even though he’s well aware that’s not the case at all. But he will shut his goddamn mouth and behave in front of you once Fukuzawa or Kunikida is in sight. You’ve also learned some good comebacks from Yosano that’ll leave him terrified of you for the rest of the day. Interactions between you two will go something a little like this:

You: ‘I wanna be on top.’

Dazai: ‘Of me, dollface? Come on, now. Don’t be so feisty at work!’

You: ‘Of the company.’

Dazai: *laughs* ‘You’re gonna be a secretary for the rest of your life. That’s you’re fate, as a working woman. I don’t make the rules. But if you don’t like being a secretary, you can be mine instead.’

-Tanizaki also laughs when you mention this to him. He won’t make lewd comments about you or act domineering like Kunikida and Dazai do, but consider him trash as well.

-You tried to seduce Fukuzawa as a way to get promoted, but he noped immediately. He thinks of you as a daughter, and engaging in quid pro quo behavior completely goes against his values. He hires you because you’ve got the right skills and bc of your hard work, but doesn’t think you’re ready for a promotion combined with some sexist biases.

-Kenji respects you as his elder and superior. He wouldn’t really have any opinions on you being a leader, but even if he thought the same as all your male coworkers, it wouldn’t really bother you or frustrate you that much.

-Ranpo’s probably the only man in the office who isn’t dismissive of your ambitious tendencies, though he’s not necessarily a cheerleader about it. He’s more of a ‘Yeah, you’d be good at it, I guess’ kind of guy at most.

• You also smoke cigarettes a lot. You need them the way Ranpo needs his snacks, and it’s the only way you can calm yourself down.

•You’re filling in for Kunikida’s secretary today BC she’s sick. He calls you into his office, introducing you to your new employee, Atsushi Nakajima.

• “He’s the weretiger that he spent all night looking for, and now he’ll be working with us.”

• “Working with us?” you ask coolly. “Who’s idea was it, to employ a shapeshifter of all ability users?”

• “The president’s,” says Kunikida. “Should I report to him you doubted his decisions, Y/N?”

• “No need to,” you answer. “If it’s what president decrees, then I can expect it to be good.”

• Atsushi’s in awe as he looks at you pulling out a cigarette as you’re glaring.

• “Show the new guy around for the next hour,” says Kunikida, impatiently pushing a startled Atsushi from behind. “And cancel my 2 PM appointment! I won’t get it done with all these documents to read.”

• “Yes, Mr. Kunikida,” you scoff rolling your eyes.

• “Um, ma’am?” Atsushi asks. “Are you okay?”

• “Yes, I’m okay,” you say icily. “Now how about you shut up so I can give you the damn tour, tiger man? Could you do that for for me?”

• He nods quickly and walks behind you.

• “This is where you’ll be sitting,” you say, pointing to a small desk with a typewriter and a pen holder. It’s also facing a gray wall with no window. “Not pictureresque, I know. Though a chump like you should consider yourself lucky getting a desk with a typewriter. Now that you’re part of the Agency, you’d better learn to be punctual and not let your emotions get in the way. Don’t, and you’re left for dead. God knows it’s a pain, but it’s how work gets done around here.”

• Atsushi has no goddamn clue how to use a typewriter, so you have to teach him the whole day, in between passing out documents from Kunikida to the president and vice versa. You give Atsushi your worst frown once the day is done bc of all the stress he’s piled on you.

• On your desk the next day, you find a ‘Thank You’ card and a bouquet of flowers.

• It’s from Atsushi himself. He thanks you for helping him learn how to use a typewriter, and apologizes for upsetting you. Some of the ink is smeared, and he asks you to let him know how he can make it up to you.

•You march up to Dazai’s office holding the card and flowers, telling his secretary you’d like to speak to him shortly. She tells you he’s busy but he insists that she let you in over the intercom.

• “Eager, to see me so early, honey, huh?” he teases as you enter his office. “I knew you’d come through one of these days. You’re making me one lucky man.”

• “Is this some kind of joke, Dazai?” You demand, holding the card and flowers and opening the card.

• Dazai looks at the card and reads it. Handing it back to you. “Oh no, not my doing at all. The one thing I’d never do in a love note to a woman is let the ink get smeared with my tears. You’ve got an admirer Y/N. Atsushi-kun’s in love with you. You heartbreaker you. You’re makin’ me jealous!”

• You spend the whole day wondering if it’s true. As much of a scheming bastard Dazai is, he is good at solving mysteries

• You spend the next two weeks testing out if Atsushi’s got a crush on you, offering him employee training which he surprisingly manages to catch up on

•At this point, YOU’RE the one whose got a crush on him. He’s sweet, friendly, takes you seriously and doesn’t laugh at your goals. He’ll even bring you a treat from the bakery a couple times a week. But you won’t show those feelings to him. When you ask him if he’d like anything in return, he tells you he doesn’t.

• “Y/N, you never asked me what I can do for you in return,” he says.

• “Take me on a date,” you say. “At the Green Palace. 6 PM sharp.”

• “Date?!” he asks, shocked by your answer and how nonchalantly you said it.

• He takes you out and it goes well, eager to foot the bill despite his lowly salary.

• As you spend more time together, you vent to him about how you’re underestimated when it comes to your abilities because of your gender. He doesn’t know what that’s like, but he confides in you about how he’s felt so useless his whole life growing up in the orphanage and during his time at the church shelter. He also thinks it’s ridiculous that all the men at work belittle you, and believes you have what it takes to be in a higher role at the company.

• You’re one of the few people not to judge him for bringing up his traumatic experiences to him, and if he didn’t already trust you in the first place, he’s now given 1000% of it to you.

• You two keep your relationship a secret, though Dazai and Ranpo know. You’ll hear Dazai ask Atsushi personal questions about you two, but luckily Atsushi knows to be careful around him and scoffs at him, telling him it’s none of his business.

• He’ll come over to your apartment after missions to decompress and he’ll try to comfort you too when you’re stressed with work.

• A year into your relationship, you tell Atsushi it’s time everyone knows. He’s hesitant at first, but then agrees to it, and wants you to announce if this is to happen.

• Before announcing to the ADA, Fukuzawa decides to promote you to junior director. It’s got ‘junior’ in it, but it’s a far cry from being secretary and you get your own office. You’re now the only other female employee along with Yosano to have her own office.

• When you’ve announced to ADA, everyone cheers. Kunikida’s surprised, and angry you didn’t inform him about this, but gets over it. Fukuzawa wishes you told him, but approves of Atsushi as a boyfriend to you.

• Surf rock music plays on a record, and everyone gets drunk and hollers.

• “Happy one year together,” Atsushi says softly, holding a small gift bag. “ I got you this. Hope you like it.”

• “A marble bluebird,” you gasp, looking into the bag.

• “You said they’re your favorite birds once,” he says nervously. “I thought it’d be a great gift to give you.”

• “Atsushi…” you mutter. “Thank you.”

• You walk up him and kiss his cheek. His face turns bright red with everyone looking you two.

• “Don’t forget to give me one, too!” Dazai calls out. “It just took a measly glass bird? I’ll get you all of them, Y/N.”

• Kunikida makes a fist towards Dazai and he gets frightened.

• “ You hated my guts, when you first met me,” says Atsushi. “ The last thing I expected was that you’d fall in love with me.”

• “I never hated you, Atsushi,” you say. “ I just hated how I felt. You’ve helped me to believe in myself, and you’re always good to me. I love you, Atsushi.”

• “I-I love you too, y/n,” he stammers. He’s told you every single day, but he wants to say it again anyways. “You‘ve done really great. You deserve all this. Got any orders for me, director?”

• “Follow me to my office,” you jest, smacking his ass.

JFC this is MUCH longer than I thought it’d be. And writing this has kind of made me hate Dazai. But I had a lot of fun, writing this. If you’ve made it all the way here, thank you, thank you, thank you! Please leave a comment and LMK your thoughts.

[acheronist]

woah it seems like i missed the first eleven words of your post but in spite of that would it be okay if i asked about what you think thomas armitage and henry peglar spent four years doing while they were sailing around the equator on the gannet together

LET THE RECORD SHOW THAT IT IS THE YEAR IS 1834. it's also early april. cool and crisp but sunny one could assume. we are boarding the hms gannet (an 18 gun brig-sloop), and we are signed on for four years, sailing across the atlantic and then working in service of the british navy in north america + the west indies. henry peter peglar was born in 1812 and is at this point twenty two years of age. thomas middlename armitage is born in 1805 . much less information about thomas is readily available to me so we're really entering crazygirl speculation, but we know he's at least 28 but probably closer to 29. i love it when the least problematic thing about a couple is their age difference.

i don't know what thomas was up to, besides allegedly being married for eight years and having some kids and then fucking off to the navy instead of being a father (closeted deadbeat dad backstory? married young just to appease family backstory? lavender marriage backstory?) but in the last few year before this henry had: worked under a captain who was notorious for lashing his men, said Yikes this guy sucks i don't want to be lashed, wrote for a discharge, got on a new boat. new boat was captained by the same crazed captain as before, so he bailed again, and ended up on a ship he'd previously been on before, and then got lashed for being drunk and mutinous under the old-new captain anyways. my poor boy. the takeaway from this is when he's getting onto the gannet as captain of the foretop, his shoulders are covered in barely healed over scars.

good news is tho he got a promotion!!!! a few, technically!! henry's captain of the foretop, now, and likely spends his days up in the ropes and rigging, climbing around and fixing the sails. he's good at this and does an excellent job. this is also his first time as a senior petty officer aboard a ship, plus he was acting as coxswain AND working gunner crew when necessary. (shoutout to his childhood in his dad's gunsmithing workshop)

thomas armitage is rated as an AB right now iirc, and with only so many men aboard, surely their paths must begin to cross. thomas has got a pretty good coverstory of Marriage, but henry's never had any romantic affairs recorded thus far and has been pretty career focused for most of his life so far as far as i can tell. oh you've been in the navy since puberty? mm. mhm. okay.

well anyways no one would blink twice at some fellow crewmates who run in the same social circles sharing a meal every now and then. lots of people do that. and henry likes to write, has always liked to write and keep a journal! the atlantic is clear and beautiful but to make good pace, henry doesn't get the time to write until late into the evenings. men aboard see him writing constantly in his spare time, and he gets a reputation for it. once, maybe during a meal, the ships boys nervously ask him if he'd mind helping them with their letters. he laughs and says his spellings not very good, he's not much of a teacher, always been a sailor, but he'll help of course, if they'd like that. thomas can't help but overhear and remembers how it felt to sign his marriage certificate to cecelia with an X, not even able to scratch his own name out across the line. maybe that was better though, he hadn't really signed anything, and it felt like he wasn't truly tied to her, not in a way that was real. marriage consummated, sure, but he didn't know his children. wasn't in their lives. much preferred the company of his fellow sailors, the ease and routine of a crowded ship. sent most of his money home, of course, and never saw them. couldn't send any letters home, couldn't read any letters that managed to reach him, either.

still, if someone aboard was offering to teach, maybe it'd be worthwhile to speak to him more. try and learn. so he strikes up a friendship with mr. peglar. easy easy easy. he's funny, he's clever. gets silly after too much drink, freckles easily under the clear sunlight, works hard and his company is pleasant. he's strong and competent and good at his job-- jobs-- and there's not much to dislike about him. lots of men like him, but even on the hottest days as they sail south, when men strip down to their skins, henry still walks about the decks with his shirt buttoned all the way up. it's a nice thing to see-- thomas has always appreciated it when a shirt is well worn. when a uniform is respected and kept in order. you understand, of course.

so maybe, on a quiet night, one where henry's lingering up in the crow's nest with his pages again, tom gets the nerve to climb up. scares the hell of out henry on accident, and they both laugh it off. make room for each other in the cramped space. talk about the view, the waves and how they stretch out to the horizon, clear and gorgeous. tom hadn't realized the height would make such a difference. henry agrees, explains its part of why he likes to hide up in the heights of the ropes so often. they talk, and talk, and talk until the stars come out. tom doesn't even remember that he crawled up the ropes in the first place to ask henry if he could teach him to write, not until theyre both down on deck and henry's folded his pencil and papers away.

anyways... henry's often busy-- working. always working. its hard to pin him down but thomas begins to seek him out. gets scant minutes of each day to grip his shoulder, friendly-- NORMAL-- and smile. talk. nothing salacious-- of course not, one has to be careful aboard ships lest he wants rumors to start. but still. when henry begins seeking him out as well, it's a good feeling. sometimes the sun shines so bright and thomas gets to crane his neck up, picking out henry's dark silhouette against the blue sky and gets a few seconds to watch him work in the rigging.

and finally the ship gets a land break. a short one, mind, but a break nonetheless. the ship's docked in trinidad, henry practically begs thomas to join him off to a party. friends of someone on board throwing the whole thing over on the beachfront. spoke awful loud about it that morning, so it's not quite an open invitation, but seems informal enough that if they arrive at the right time, no one will notice they hadn't been properly invited. thomas wasn't expected to get drunk under the table like this, but apparently henry's much better at handling his alcohol, and its late-- or very early, depending-- when they finally stumble back out to the beach. its cooler out here and its lovely-- dark and salty and sweet and exotic. thomas hadn't ever been to a party like this. he has to twist his fingers into henry's shirt collar to keep upright, and maybe that's the first time he properly notices the lines of scars peeking out from below the collar. wouldn't ever see them if he hadn't pulled henry's shirt out of sorts while they stumbled over the sand-- giggling like boys and splashing barefoot along the shoreline before they returned to the gannet. and thomas wouldn't bring it up no no no that's far too forward especially because it wasn't something he was meant to see anyways but he keeps it in mind. he keeps it sooo in mind he kind of begins to suck at his job once daylight and the hangover hit him because all he can focus on is wondering how far down henry's back the scars go. what he could have possibly done to be lashed in the first place.

so he doesn't ask. he doesn't ask and he doesn't think about it, just struggles through the alphabet that henry has him copying down and thomas kind of hates himself but he copies his shaky letters down and does his job and keeps a nice distance but still... if he takes every meal with henry across the table then that's fine. they have to go over thomas's terrible alphabet practices and have a billion other things to talk about .

and the gannet moves along, so does thomas. so does henry. and its all well until the ships docks again-- cumana this time, and some men get permission to leave the ship. they'll be back on the sea again for a long while after this so the officers aboard allow it and henry just wants to walk so thomas is fine to walk with him. and it wasn't like they'd planned to find a party again, this just seems to be a joyful part of the world. and it's hosted by some americans this time, so they don't even need to struggle with the language barrier too badly! and thomas tries not to drink so much, wants to be there to take care of henry this time. and stays in the back a bit-- watches henry become best of friends with these strangers and he sings and dances alongside them, and isn't it nice how his face lights up when he spots thomas still there against the wall, so unabashedly pleased that he'd not disappeared while henry hadn't been paying attention!! and well maybe henry stumbles out of the crowd and pulls thomas into the thick of it, his hands all warm from the weather here and calloused from work and a bit sticky from spilled drinks, and brings thomas into the crowd to dance. and gets thomas to sing too because when everyone else is loud, no one really notices them specifically, and its okayyy its okay! its okay. theyre nobody here, it barely matters. just come dance. and thomas does follow after him and he does sing and he does dance. and they rent a room for a few hours before anyone notices they've not made it back to the gannet yet, and thomas gets to peel henry out of his clothes and do up every single button again after, like they'd never been undone in the first place. glances around the room one last time, and couldn't believe henry nearly left his wallet on the bureau top-- tucked it back into henry's pockets himself before they left minutes apart to avoid suspicion. but they got away with it which is THRILLING. and they keep on like this-- a cycle of working with their heads down and indulging away from the ship when they could manage it. halfheartedly teaching thomas his letters, which never quite sticks but that's alright, and seeing the sights and wonders every day, side by side, seeing the turtles swim slowly by and basking together in the heat and excitement of a new place with a strong sense of anonymity.

and its two and a half more years of this, of catching each other's eye between the ropes and Knowing it'll never last, things like this never do, but isn't it nice to have it now? and it's two and a half more years of this, and thomas does get to see the long, gnarled scars that trace down over henry's shoulders and spine, once, twice, three times, more and more until he begins to lose track. and its two and a half more years of secreting affections away up in the crows nest at strange hours when no one would notice. and its two and a half more days until they both get their discharges and the gannet docks again at sheerness and they hadn't talked about it, about what's next, because isn't it obvious? there's nothing next. this wasn't more than an affair, but it was a lovely one. it might even be one that hurts forever.

and it's february 1838 when they meet up at a pub in kent-- thomas kissed cecelia's cheek before he'd and said he was off for a pint with a friend-- and it's in a crowded pub when henry has to lean in across the table to tell him he's signed onto hms temeraire, just because he can't bear to stay in one spot. not anymore, loves the sea far too much to be on shore for very long. and thomas has to tell him that's good-- that's best for him. has to tell him to be careful in the ropes, he won't be there to watch out for him this time. and henry knows better than to ask if there's an address he could write to-- thomas wouldn't give that, and thomas wouldn't be able to write back either way. he'd still never gotten the hang of making his letters blend together gracefully into words, not in the way that henry always could. so they shake hands, fingers digging in a little bit too tightly, until they let go and that's all. thomas armitage and henry peglar go on their separate ways, resigned to the fact that they'll likely never see each other again.

and its seven years until they DO see each other again, running into each other, completely unexpected. isn't it so odd? isn't it so funny how things work out like that? do you think fate's real? well it must be, surely the navy's bigger than this to just be happenstance. they both needed jobs again at the same time, is all. heard the same rumors about john franklin's arctic expedition, whispers of optimism trickling down to even the most common gossiping circles of sailors. both couldn't resist the idea of it. both walked the chatham dockyard with their things in tow, keeping an eye out for hms terror, talking again as if no time had passed, about what to expect from the sandwich islands, if it'd be at all like the west indies... and well, they might be, once they make it that far.

who can really say, though. they're older this time. it'd be different, surely. maybe it'd just be best to be pleased for a friendship-- a more steady, meaningful companionship as they got through the passage. who can say. who could know.

[izvmimi]

a/n: not me butting into other people's aus but i love @strawberrystepmom's kakashi x reader au so much!!!

cw: alcohol mention. reader is at brunch with a friend (oc)!

"so you're fucking the hokage, huh?"

you nearly spit out the drink in your mouth while maemi looks at you, unphased by the words coming out of her mouth, and stirs her drink. it's 11am, there's relentless hustle and bustle at this outdoor restaurant, and the soft breeze of early spring is not enough to abate the heat rising from your mostly bare shoulders up to your jawline.

"shhh!!!" you hiss, leaning in, as though you're suddenly surrounded by reporters. maemi blinks.

"damn, you didn't even argue with me." she laughs as your complexion reddens even more, and takes another bite of eggs benedict. you're covering your face now, embarrassment thick and unrelenting, and she chews and swallows before leaning in.

"don't worry, no one is listening in. plus i'm pretty good at misdirection - good grades in genjutsu class, remember?" she insists.

you shoot her a dirty look before rising to a regular sitting position, and adjusting the pleats of your spring dress.

"fine, a codename." maemi suggests. "are we going with your usual?"

you sigh. "That Man and I have not fucked yet."

maemi looks at you, contemplating, then takes another bite.

"he's fingered you under the table, right?" she asks.

"please!"

maemi takes a sip of her mimosa, nonchalant, and gulps it down a little too quick. "manabu told me, and if he knows, more people know than you think."

your blood seems to run cold, or is it early spring chill? you can't tell. her partner doesn't seem like the gossipy type, but he does work close enough to the hokage's office that it is feasible that he's heard something - or worse, heard something.

"you know, i could tell that once you started this job it would end up like this." she taps her forehead with the back of one of her chopsticks. "you know, the authority kink and everything?"

you take out your hand and place it on the table, palm up. "knock me out right now, to be honest." maemi looks down at your hand then looks up.

"oh no, you're gonna have to ask the alcohol to do that for you." she says, declining to waste her chakra. with that statement, she finishes the rest of her mimosa, then raises her hand up for the waiter to bring them another round of drinks. once the order is given, her eyes turn foxlike as she smiles at you again.

"hey, can you get the hokage to promote me? i'm not gonna be able to compete with nepotism baby sakura at this point, unless i have some kind of backer."

you snort. "i don't think being a former hokage's apprentice necessarily counts as nepotism. maybe she's just good."

maemi furrows her eyebrows. "listen, i may not be as good as her but i'm not garbage and i need someone powerful to back me-"

you raise a hand. "even if i WERE-" you pause, then bite your lip before continuing, "making love to current Lord Sixth-"

"is that what you call him in bed?"

you can feel your head start to pound before giggling maemi raises her own hands in defeat. "sorry, no more jokes."

you cut your eyes at her, and continue, "- what makes you think i can ask that?"

maemi leans in, brown eyes glowing with humor at her own jokes. "just give him the old spit shine and be like, so i have this really, really talented friend-"

"get out." you hiss.

your next round of drinks come, and you dig into a plate of potatoes and chase it down with iced coffee. as the conversation shifts away from the fact that you are notably entangled with the most powerful man in konoha at the moment, you consider what it might mean for your future, both as a biographer but also as someone who hopes to live quietly in this country. maemi notices you are somewhat lost in thought, and stops her tirade about the hierarchy of konoha's medical-nin, and gives you a reassuring smile.

"i know i just gave you shit, but i promise if anyone bothers you, i'll be the first one at your defense. i already told manabu to write down the names of anyone who even suggests that you're anything but sweet and sought after," she mentions. "you'll be fine."

you swallow.

"thanks."

maemi gives you another look, able to tell you're not completely reassured.

"do you love him?" she asks, her voice softer this time. "... it's not wrong if you do."

you can't give her a yes now, but you can feel your heart, slowly but surely, moving towards it.

[betterbooktitles]

Because I was taller than everyone else on my fifth-grade baseball team, my strike zone was slightly larger than most. That fact alone must have led to a few more pitches going unanswered when I was at bat. It also didn’t help that I was deathly afraid of the ball.

My dad, not the biggest sports enthusiast, took the time in the evenings after work both during and after baseball season to toss small plastic whiffle balls (about a 6th of the size of a regular baseball) at me that I would then swat a sad few feet from where we stood in the front yard. He was always in his dress clothes, and as the sun set behind him, it felt like everyone in our neighborhood was hiding inside during our 10-minute drill.

“Keep your eye on the ball.” he’d say before underhand tossing the practice pitch, having no idea the reason I had watched the last 9 strikes in one game pass the plate in front of me wasn’t an inability to see the ball coming, but the exact opposite: I saw it flying right at me and was frozen by fear.

Recently, I found the baseball cards they’d made for our rec teams. There I am smiling, bat in hand, not an inkling of fear on my face since I was staring down a camera and not a pitcher. The back of the cards featured my weight, height, and various stats, including 0 RBIs. The more impressive numbers reported: I had jumped from 5’1” to 5’11” over three summers.

Being tall at 12, and remaining relatively tall until most kids caught up with me in high school, had its advantages. I played center in basketball and rarely had to jump for a rebound, I was a decent first baseman because I wasn’t afraid of a ball when I had a mitt to catch it in, and adults, simply by virtue of my being the same size as them, mistakenly talked to me as if I were a peer. 

“The problem with this fucking place…” the new head of my community theater confided in me as I sat in the box office and handed a parent her change, “is there are too many chefs!” My new boss kept her flat black hair short and wore fat earrings. She was in her mid-50s and had been given the job after the board fired her friend and colleague of 15 years from the same position. Our new leader had spent much of her career teaching children how to sing in harmony, not fundraising and attending advertising meetings, and she was adjusting. I was 11 or 12, hearing an adult woman vent for the first time about what I had assumed was a nice promotion.

“It’s like that pasta fundraiser we did,” she continued, “Everyone brought in a sauce from home, but imagine if we had mixed them all together? You bring your grandma’s famous recipe in and dump it in with a bunch of Ragu, what does it taste like? It all tastes like Ragu, you know?”

I nodded as if I knew. “I get you.” I said, speaking slowly so my voice didn’t crack. I had recently visited New Orleans and had tried to yell something funny at my family while crossing the street, and out came a high-pitched whistle instead. A man in a suit walking past us mirthfully smiled to himself, knowing exactly what had happened. Since then, I remained cognizant of how deep I needed to keep my voice to not slip. Plus I wanted this woman to keep speaking to me like a coworker. “You don’t want to be watered down.”

“Yes. It’s like that. Imagine that for every person who brought in Ragu, someone else brought in a bottle of piss to mix in. That’s what the board meetings are like. Their ideas are like piss mixed into a pasta sauce.”

I giggled and quickly cleared my throat before saying in a deep voice: “Tell me about it.”

The disadvantage of tallness was that from 3rd to 6th grade, it was assumed that I could do everything myself. They started asking for tall guy favors. Tiny teachers asked me to retrieve supplies from high shelves and old ladies I didn’t know stopped me on the street and asked me to help carry their groceries from their cars. No one was worried about a boy who looked 18 at age 11, but that also meant I had to desperately seek out the right friends if I wanted to talk about Pokémon and anime instead of someone asking if I could buy them porn or cigarettes or firecrackers. Still, like many kids, I wanted to be older than I was and I relished my tall kid privilege. I walked to the mall alone, I walked into R-rated movies without anyone on staff stopping me, and I stood outside the back entrance of my community theater where the director and crew members smoked cigarettes and talked to them about their love lives. Never in my life did older people cover their mouths after they swore or steer conversations away from sex at the sight of me. 

This early independence may have been what my parents wanted.

“We treated you like little adults even though we knew we weren’t supposed to.” My mom revealed to me on a recent trip to see my family in North Carolina. In the open-concept house down the street from where my brother settled after college, we reminisced about Cleveland from afar, my brother chiming in periodically to say how our old neighborhood had changed for the better, what buildings had been demolished and rebuilt because they were a lost cause. Schools had been turned into suburban developments, dilapidated gyms became giant complexes for rec soccer leagues, and a bunch of fuck-up alcoholics we’d known in school had become successful lawyers (who still drank too much).

“We let you decide where we ate and what sports you played,” my Mom continued, “you weren’t supposed to let kids decide all that, even in the 90s.” 

My dad, half-awake in a recliner, said that when he told a friend how he used to leave his 11-year-old alone to make sure his 8-year-old son got the school bus on time every morning, and the friend said that practice was tantamount to child abuse. Whatever trauma I experienced from having time alone with my brother (?) fails to compare to how I feel about adults who spoke to me from age 10-15. 

By the time I was a teenager, I’d fully accepted my early adulthood. When I wasn’t playing a sport or acting in a play, my number one hobby was taking a John Updike book (sorry) to a coffee shop. I frequented a place within walking distance of my house in Cleveland called Talkies. I sat at the front bar with my book and ate a second lunch at 3 PM. I talked to random people sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes inside. One was a researcher at Case Western who studied molecular biology. He seemed to know no one in Cleveland except me and the baristas. Another guy was a white dude with dreadlocks, a gifted actor who bussed tables at the fancy restaurant next door. Every barista was a 20-something woman who told me about their various trysts in graphic detail. Multiple times the men offered me cigarettes or to split a joint outside. No wonder it took me years to finish one of the Rabbit novels. I was soaking up more than enough adult content in my real life than any book could offer.

The oddest encounter occurred at a hotel in Annapolis, Maryland when I was 15...

Read the rest here.

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

Technically it's the 2nd Battle of New York

(Just a fun one shot, for all the Percy Jackson fans out there. This is going to be the first story, for a series I'm doing called the Percy Jackson Multiverse! Just a bunch of random crossover stories that I'm doing in prep for the show. Let me know if you want a specific crossover and I'll try to get around to it!)

Percy laughed as one of his subordinates, Mike slipped on the sea spray and landed hard on his but in the middle of the deck. Mike was their newest crew member, just barely a full fledged seaman, and so naturally every little mistake he made was met with never ending teasing and hazing from every other crew member on their little Recuse and Response Boat. But there was nothing cruel about it, just some light hearted joshing for a light heart day. As proven when the Chief Petty Officer stepped forward to help the young man up, with an amused smile and a kind word before ordering everyone back to the stations.

Following the order with a smile Percy turned back to checking the rescue lines, and watching the view. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of this. The glistening green waves of the bay. The sea salt breeze in his face. The music of a lively harbor. And the grandeur of the New York City skyline as seen from the sea. It was beautiful, and peaceful, and all Percy could have ever hoped for. Especially on days like today, when the weather was fair and there were no missions planned. They simply patrolled the harbor, laughing in the sun, and appreciating the view, until it was time to head in. 

It was the perfect job for him! He got to spend all day on the water, where no monsters would dare touch him. He got to help people, and no one cared that he had barely finished high school. He was stationed in New York, which meant he was easily accessible for any of his friends that might need help. And, aside from the odd night shift, he got to go home to Annabeth every evening and wake up with her every morning. 

Yep, life was pretty good for First Petty Officer Percy Jackson. And since he had finally extracted a promise from the gods to leave him alone! The Hero of Olympus was happy to say that he was blissfully retired from questing, and ready to live the rest of his life in peace. So naturally everything just had to go horribly wrong, because of course the fates hated him. And it happened as he was talking to his Chief as they looked over the harbor.  

“Have you ever thought of rescue diving Jackson?” the Chief said simply. “It’s hard and dangerous for sure. But it’s better pay and more benefits. Plus you get to travel around, see the world. Seems like something you might enjoy. I mean, you’re like a shark in the water.”

Percy shrugged. He’d considered it of course, but that’s not what he wanted right now and he said as much. “All I want, Chief, is a steady paycheck and to go home to my girl at the end of the day. I’ve seen as much of the world as I care to, right now I just want some peace.”

The Chief barked a laugh, “Peace? Boy, you're Twenty years old! You can’t even drink yet! You’re too young to be thinking of ‘peace!’ Besides, this job isn’t exactly low stress, so maybe you should consider reexamining your priorities.”

Percy chuckled and shook his head. “I’m happy right where I am,” he said simply as he leaned against the ship's railing, the gentle sea spray brushing his face like a gift from his father. “If that changes, we can talk. But I’ve got a wedding to plan, and a fiancé keep happy. And right now, that means staying in the city for as long as possible without getting into any more trouble.”

The Chief chuckled and nodded, turning back to the bridge. “Fair enough, just remember, that at the rate you're being promoted you're likely to find yourself pigeon holed into a desk job before long. Unless you're trying to make Admiral before you're fifty?”

Percy smiled slyly and said, “Actually I was thinking forty, but who cares, I’m not in a rush.”

They both laughed, and would have continued their good natured discussion of Percy’s future, if at that moment, the world hadn’t changed forever. One minute the sky was as clear as it could be, and then a noise like thunder echoed over the city and across the bay. Every eye was drawn to the skyline, and the swirling patch of space that hung ominously above Stark Tower. 

“Holy shit,” the Chief muttered in awe, and Percy spun to look at him. He and every other member of the crew were staring up at the portal in awe and terror. And Percy cursed in Greek. The mist wasn’t hiding this. Every single mortal that Percy could see was staring up at the sky in wonder, obviously seeing the portal (because what else could it be) for exactly what it was. 

“So,” he thought bitterly, “ Either the gods have messed up big time, or this isn’t them.” But Percy wasn’t putting his money on this being anything, but a major godly screw up. That was until the giant space mosasaurus flew out of the portal with a reverberating cry, and began to descend on the city. From where their boat was idling, Percy could barely see the thousands of specks flying around the giant space, dinno shark like flies, and then he cursed again. He had just lost his bet with himself, because while Percy Jackson was not always the brightest tool in the shed, he knew his world. And this monster and its swarming army, was not of his world. 

“Sir,” Percy said firmly, jolting his Chief out of his reverie. “We need to move, I believe we are being invaded.” 

The Chief Petty Officer snapped to attention, nodded once to Percy in thanks and then immediately began barking orders. There was a battle in the city and thousands of civilian boats in the harbor and bay, and they would need to be escorted to safety or rescued from the debris. Their peaceful day had just become a lot more stressful, but they were the Coast Guard. This was their job, and they would do it. 

Percy sent a quick prayer to Poseidon and Hestia, two of the few gods who actually liked him, that they would keep his family safe. He then sent a prayer to Athena, Nike, and (after grimacing) Ares to give humanity a chance at victory. He hesitated for only a second as he saw the bright red speck that he assumed was Iron Man, fly up to challenge the leviathan. But he shook his head and focused on his crew.

It looked like most of this battle would take place in the air, where he was less than useless. And unless the Fates themselves showed up and demanded that he take part, he was going to stay where he was most useful, and help as many people as he could. It grated against every protective and battle instinct he had. He wanted to run to his family, to Annabeth. He needed to know they were ok, and safe. He wanted to find the idiot responsible for this and punch them in the teeth. They had ruined a perfectly good day! And all of his training was demanding that he jump into the water, and take charge of the battle. 

But he did none of those things. He had a job to do and he would do it. He had to trust Annabeth to protect his family. He had to trust Iron Man and whatever forces he had in stock, to deal with the aliens. He had to trust, and if he saw a chance to kick some alien butt along the way? Well, none of his crew would blame him. 

Annabeth stuffed as many people into the boiler room beneath their apartment building as she could. She met Sally Jackson’s eyes as her husband Paul hugged little Estelle tightly to his chest. A soft determination came over Sally’s face and she nodded to Annabeth, silently telling her to go. The greatest mother the world had ever known, turned to the frightened, noisy, crowd and began to take command. Annabeth didn’t wait for Sally to get things under control. Instead she ran up the stairs, taking three at a time before returning to her and Percy’s apartment, and slamming open the door. She didn’t even hesitate as she ran for where her Drakon Bone Sword was on display in their living room before throwing on the spare breastplate, grieves, and helmet they kept in the closet. 

She only briefly paused to consider taking her Yankees cap before caving, and stuffing it into her back pocket. She then threw herself down the fire escape, and rolled out into the chaos that was now midtown Manhattan. However, the panicked masses parted for her easily. They understood the significance of a person running the wrong way, and dared not to hinder a person going toward the danger. The only road block she might have faced were the panicked policemen struggling to put up a barrier in a desperate attempt to contain the chaos. But they were all too focused on the literal aliens, falling from the sky to notice the young college woman with a deadly weapon running past them and into the battle. 

The aliens, however, had no such blindness. The beasts saw Annabeth easily, and charged her. The daughter of Athena gritted her teeth, and lifted her sword. She silently cursed herself, for running blindly into a fight without a plan and prepared to fight for her life. She didn’t even know if these creatures would be affected by Drakon bone! Or if they had special powers, or weaknesses. What if they were like hydras and could regenerate? It was such a Percy thing to do, that her scowl turned into a grin, and she bared her teeth like a wolf about to rip out their throats. She began to dance with her sword, something she had been training to do since she was seven. 

Her grin turned manic, as the alien monsters attacked brainlessly and fell easily. The sword she had claimed from the depths of Tartarus cut through them like butter, and their armor was like match wood beneath her strikes. She quickly evaluated them as she fought, and realized a few things immediately. First of all, these “soldiers” only had the most basic level of combat, and relied completely on their superior weapons and numbers. Second, they were clearly some type of hive mind, since their insensible growls and screams had no semblance of language, but they were far too coordinated to not be communicating. And third, there were too many of them. 

They fell before Annabeth like wheat before the scythe, but like the waves of the ocean, there was always another one to take its place. So while these creatures were nothing compared to the monsters she was used to fighting on a daily basis, she knew that eventually they would wear down her stamina and kill her without a second thought. And that was perhaps the most concerning fact. These creatures showed no fear. She cut them down without thought or hesitation by the dozens, without taking a single scratch, but none of them even hesitated to challenge her again, and again, and again. Even monsters had more sense than that, which only confirmed her brainless hive mind theory. 

She needed a plan, but for it to work she needed to know who their allies were, where Percy was, and what government organizations were mobilizing to help clean up this mess. That morning, Percy said that he would be patrolling the bay until five, and she assumed that his crew would need him to help rescue civilians and get them off the island. So she decided to cut her way to the Empire State Building, and see what godly intervention she could scrounge up. And they couldn’t say no. They owed her.

Annabeth pulled up short as a great roar echoed through the streets causing some of the windows to shiver. That was not the sound of the alien’s living ships, so it was either a magic beast, or a third party. Annabeth picked up her pace, until she saw the great green form of the Hulk jumping from building to building and smashing every alien he could get his hands on. “ Well,” she thought grimly, “ That explains the roar. ” 

Annabeth skidded to a halt and cursed right as she got to the overpass in front of Grand Central Station. A squad of fifty aliens, ten of which were on those strange speeders, had seen her and begun to charge. Needing the high ground, Annabeth scrambled up the bridge support faster than she’d ever climbed the wall at camp. Of course the fact that the bridge wasn’t shaking, or spewing lava definitely helped her speed. She vaulted the barrier, and fell into a battle stance as the aliens tried to follow her. 

The good news, the squad of fifty was slowed and dispersed by the climb, and she dispatched the speeders, as easily as evil harpies. The bad news was that she was now on an exposed plan, and she could already see two more squads in the distance moving in to flank her. Annabeth scowled, and looked to where she could just barely see the Empire State building peeking out from behind the towers surrounding her. Then her mouth dropped open in shock, because there standing on the spire, was a figure in armor. It was barely distinguishable, but whoever it was, was clearly directing lightning at the portal, stemming the flow of the invaders and giving the forces on the ground a chance to regroup, and organize. 

“Zeus?” She whispered in awe. Was the overstuffed drama queen actually helping? And was he actually being smart about it?!

“Thor actually. Watch your back!” A voice called behind her and Annabeth spun to see a woman with fiery red hair, and dressed in black leather, shoot an alien trying to sneak up on her. Annabeth cursed herself (she was doing a lot of that today it would seem) and put her back to the mortal warrior and cleared a space for them between two overturned cars, that they could use as cover. 

This gave them a brief respite, where the two women turned to look at each other with an accepting suspicion. They didn’t know each other. They didn’t trust each other. They clearly had a lot of questions for the other. But at that moment, they were on the same disadvantaged side, and therefore needed each other. So Annabeth lowered her sword and held out her hand, “Annabeth Chase.”

“Natasha Romanof,” the woman said without emotion, but still taking Annabeth’s hand. She then gave Annabeth’s armor and weapon a quick once over and then silently groaned, “Don’t tell me the Greek gods are real too.”

“What do you mean?” Annabeth said slowly, careful not to confirm nor deny anything the woman said. 

“Well,” Natasha said with a barely perceivable smirk, as she pointed to the figure summoning the lightning, “That is Thor, a Norse god straight out of mythology. So I assume all of the other ancient myths are based on some facts.”

Annabeth allowed her smirk to be easily readable, she had a feeling she was going to like this mortal. But all she said was, “A logical deduction, but hardly proof.”

“You’re trained, with abnormal strength and reflexes based on how easily you cut through the Chitauri. Also that,” Natasha pointed at Annabeth's sword, “Is hardly a common weapon, and you're dressed in ancient armor. In other words, you’re enhanced, with a connection to the ancient world, and assumed Thor was Zeus. So, yes or no, are the Greek gods real, and what is your connection to them?”

Annabeth grinned from ear to ear. She really liked this mortal. She had to be one of her mother’s favorites. Plus she could see through the mist. “Yes,” Annabeth said coolly, “They're real, and they live in the Empire State Building.”

There was only a brief widening of Natasha’s eyes at this revelation and a glance at the famous monument, but otherwise she remained stoic and sharp as Annabeth continued saying, “I am the daughter of Athena, Greek goddess of wisdom and battle strategy. No, I’m not a god, my dad is a human mortal. Yes, technically Athena is a sworn virgin. No, I don’t want to explain how I was born. No, I don’t know if they're going to help us. Yes, I do have a plan to end this. Are you willing to listen to me?”

Natasha stood silently for a moment, before she spun to kill a chitauri trying to sneak up on them. She then gave Annabeth another searching look. She seemed satisfied with what she saw, because she nodded, raising her weapons to face down the coming aliens. “Let’s hear it.”

“First,” Annabeth said once more, putting her back to the woman. “Give me the rundown. Who are we fighting? Who are our allies? Do we have support?” 

“These buggers,” Natasha yelled over the noise of her guns. “Are the Chitauri. They’re being led by Loki, the Norse god of mischief. He wants to rule the world. On our side we have Captain America, Thor, Hulk, and Iron Man, you know them?”

Annabeth choked as she sliced off a chitauri’s arm. “Captain America is alive!” She then stabbed the alien in the heart. Natasha nodded to her in confirmation, but her eyes brightened in approval at Annabeth’s viciousness. “Ok,” Annabeth said, shaking her head. It wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened in her life. “I know the rest, who else?”

“Clint Barton—”

“I know him.” 

This time Natasha froze as an alien corpse collapsed in front of her. “How?” Her voice was cold and demanding. 

Annabeth noted the woman’s change, and only hesitated to consider Clint’s situation before asking, “Are you in communication?” 

Natasha handed Annabeth an earpiece, and showed her how to turn it on. Immediately, unseen strangers were shouting in her ear. But Annabeth ignored them all in favor of the one she hadn’t heard since she was ten years old, begging him not to leave her. “Clint?” she said softly. 

Immediately the voices stopped. A voice full of a soldier’s command was the first to speak, “Who are you? How are you on this channel?”

“Clint Barton, Mr. Brunner sends his regards,” Annabeth said, ignoring the questions.

“Holy Hades,” Clint whispered, “Annie? Is that you?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said slowly, “I’m here with Natasha Romanof. We’re holding the overpass by Grand Central Station. She knows my truth, and she accepts it.”

“Oh,” Clint said, “Um ok…well…this…isn’t ideal. Do we have to do this now?” 

“I have a plan to end this, and I need your team to trust me.” 

“I’m sorry,” a voice filled with disbelief and condensation filled the earpiece. “Will someone please explain who this child is? And what Legolas is keeping from us? I thought we were past this, people!”

“Can it Tony,” Clint growled over the comms, and Annabeth heard an explosion in the background. “The only person I trust more than Annabeth is Nat. She has been through more wars than Cap, and she was a leader in all of them. If she has a plan, we shut up and do what she says. And don’t even pretend that you don’t have at least thirty skeletons in the closet that we don’t know about. Annie, I’ll tell Nat everything after this. Just tell us what to do. Also, please tell me your boyfriend’s here! We could use him.”

Annabeth blushed at the complements, but shook the embarrassment away before saying, “He’s with the Coast Guard. Unless one of you goes to get him, he’s going to focus on getting civilians away from the battle. But we don’t need him for this to work. Thor, how conniving is Loki?”

“He is one of the most cunning minds in all of Asgard,” a deep, accented, and formal voice declared. “But please, a moment, Sir. Barton has referred to you as Annabeth. You are not the famous Annabeth Chase by chance?”

Annabeth couldn’t help the swell of pride at being recognized by a deity from a completely different pantheon, and said. “The one and only.”

“I suggest that everyone listens to the Warrior Chase,” Thor declared immediately, “Her skill, and wisdom are legendary across the nine realms and further. And if it is true that the Perseus Jackson is nearby—”

“Wait!” Iron Man interrupted again, “Why is she Warrior Chase, while we’re all sirs and ladies? Who is she? And how old are you? You sound young. That’s not just me right? She sounds young?”

“Focus Tony,” Cap said again. And as he spoke, he joined her and Natasha on the overpass. He narrowed his eyes at her, and at first Annabeth was afraid that he would agree with Tony about insisting on her age. But she didn’t give him time to.

“Listen,” she said and she used the chitauri she was fighting as a shield against the blast of the others, before kicking him into his companions, knocking them down before she decapitated all three of them in one fell swoop. “The chitauri are a hive mind.”

“How do you know that?” Tony demanded. 

“Not now Tony,” Natasha, Clint, and Thor all shouted at once. 

“We need to separate them from their source,” Annabeth continued without missing a beat. “Loki’s smart, so he’ll keep the source as far from the main battle and his enemies as possible.”

“So, on the other side of the portal,” Clint groaned. 

“We’ll never get to that,” Natasha agreed as she took a chitauri’s staff and began to use it against him. 

“But Loki’s on this side of the portal, correct?”

“He just hoped on a speeder,” Clint said, the hatred in his voice as plain as clear as his hatred for the gods. “My arrow just blew him up, but I don’t think it did much.”

Annabeth nodded, more pieces of the puzzle fitting into place, as she bisected another alien. “Ok, whatever is keeping that portal open needs to be shut down as quickly as possible. The natural distance could cut off the connection, but if not then it will be easier to contain and beat the army. Then we need to capture Loki, and either kill or contain him.”

“I would rather you didn’t kill my brother.”

“Natasha, Clint,” Annabeth said ignoring the god, as was her want, “One of you needs to get to the gate's power source.” She could hear Iron Man begin to protest but she cut him off saying, “Mr. Stark, you, Captain Rogers, and whoever doesn’t go to that monstrosity of a building—”

“Hey!”

“Needs to continue supporting the police and National Guard in defending the city. Thor, you or Hulk need to deal with Loki. I don’t care if you do or don’t kill him. Just make sure he is no longer commanding his forces. I’m going to go see if I can’t call in some extra firepower to speed things along.”  

“It’s a good plan, Tony,” Rogers said as he watched Annabeth leap off an exploding car, grab a speeder by the handle, and twist it is that it and its passengers went careening into the side of a building, before dropping down onto an alien twice her size, and plunging her sword into its chest. 

“I just saw Loki, I’ll try to drive him back to the Tower, before heading to the tesseract. Steve, give me a boost.” Natasha said, before using the Captain’s shield as a springboard to take control of a speeder going overhead. Ok, Annabeth really liked this mortal. 

“I would follow you to Loki,” Thor said with a grunt, “But I am currently facing three leviathans over the harbor.” 

“HULK SMASH!” A voice bellowed over the comms, and that answered Annabeth’s question on whether or not the creature could understand human speech. She smiled, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Captain America flinch at the deadly glee in her eyes. 

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” she said. 

When the leviathan crashed into the harbor and sent a giant wave crashing over, Percy’s boat, Percy willed the water to not harm the civilians, but allowed the current to sweep him away and into the sea. He felt slightly guilty leaving his crew to think he was drowning in battle, but that was offset by the looks of astonishment that they would surely have when he showed up perfectly fine at the base camp in Brooklyn that the first responders were setting up. Besides he had been with the Chief since he was an Apprentice, he knew that Percy was a “strong swimmer” and would be fine. 

He had stayed with his crew for as long as he could, and they had almost completely cleared the water of all of the civilian and commercial craft. Now it was a matter of getting the civilians from one shore to the other. A process that he could expedite by talking to the River Lords to convince them to help the boats. With that done, he began searching for overboard civilians and silently shifting the currents to be in their favor. And if anyone began to drown, then he got a little more hands on with their rescue. By bringing them to an abandoned dock, not too far from the base camp, and pulling the water out of their lungs. 

The fish helped as much as they could, but they were terrified of the unfamiliar monsters sinking beneath the waves. However, with the help they were able to give, and the blessing of the sea constantly rejuvenating him and giving him strength, more people were saved than lost. After delivering a boy who didn’t know how to swim to the Brooklyn shore, Percy paused and looked over at the battle. The portal was still open, and the aliens were still coming in droves. However, the National Guard, and Army had just arrived. Skiffs full of marines and seals, were pulling into the bay as fast as their fastest boats could go. 

But Percy had an eye for war. He had led armies in two great wars before the age of eighteen. And he could tell that it was going poorly. Even with the reinforcements, the island was about to be overrun. Percy closed his eyes and prayed to every god and pantheon he knew for the people he loved and their safety. Yes, even to Hera and Zeus. He didn’t care. He just needed them safe. 

A great roar echoed over the water, as two leviathans turned from between the towers and began to fly over the river straight towards the base camp. People began to scream, and Percy cursed. Enough was enough. He jumped into the river, and torpedoed to the bottom and summoned the Spirit of the East River.

“Help me!” he demanded. And where once the Spirit might have grumbled and complained, now he only bowed to the son of Poseidon, who had walked through Hell, and prepared his currents to whisk the mortals to safety, even as Percy began to summon his strength. And although the land was screaming with the chaos of the battle. Under the waves all was silent, as the River god, and the demigod prepared their power. 

Then Percy screamed, and thrust his hands up and above his head. Mimicked by the spirit, the East River surged up and a wall of water formed between the two banks. The water grabbed the leviathans by their jaws and pulled them down and into the bay. The great waves formed by the creatures crashing into the rivers and being crushed by the angry guardians of the city, would have, should have, flooded the banks, destroyed the rescue boats, and drowned every individual in the water. But it didn’t. Every nymph and spirit of the waves and the sea, heard the call of their Prince, and their Lord, and surged to protect the innocents in their waters. When the river returned to normal, the piers of Brooklyn were as silent as the depths as the people stared in wonder at the absolute display of power that protected them. Still it didn’t take long for the Captains of the boats to rally and continue their rescue operations. 

Percy smiled as he watched the beasts and all of the creatures within them sink into the harbor, before swimming to the center of the bay. The Spirits of the Hudson and the East joined him, and prepared to repeat the feat should any more monsters attempt to leave the island. 

Thor choked on air as the river calmed as if nothing had ever stirred them. Had…had a mortal demigod, just done that? He knew that the young hero had power but that…that was the feat of a god! 

“Ahem, Warrior Chase,” Thor coughed into his primitive com device.

“Yes, Thor,” the Daughter of Athena said casually. 

“I believe, your beloved has joined the battle…he just drowned two leviathans with the help of the river.”

The sounds of astonishment echoing through the comms was enough to soothe Thor’s own ego, before flying off, but the Warrior Chase only chuckled softly and said, “That’s my Seaweed Brain. How are we doing on Loki and the portal?”

“Puny god,” Hulk’s gruff voice grumbled, drawing a laugh and chuckle from the rest of the team. 

“Guys,” the Black Widow called, “I’m at the tesseract. I can close it.”

“Do it!” The Captain shouted. 

“Hold up guys,” Tony called, “I got a nuclear warhead coming our way. And I know just where to put it.”

The Warrior Chase cursed so colorfully in Ancient Greek it made Thor blush, before she demanded in a tone that brokered no argument, “What idiot fires a nuke at their own city?!” 

…

Annabeth watched the SHIELD Agents swarming Stark Tower and carting off every piece of alien tech and biology that they could get their hands on. Many times, the gruff looking men with guns and the shifty little men in lab coats tried to approach her, but she just gave them the Wolf Stare that Percy had taught her, and even the largest of them did a one-eighty to avoid her gaze. 

“Hey.” Annabeth turned to see Barton watching her with a mix of pain and sympathy. She fixed him with the stare, but when he did no more than grimace, she sighed and turned away. Taking that as the vague acceptance that it was, Barton leaned against the wall beside her and watched the rest of the “Avengers" and Agents begin to transport Loki out of the Tower. “I’m sorry,” Barton finally whispered, “If I had known that the prophecy was coming—”

“How did you learn about them?” Annabeth interrupted, refusing to soften her voice. She was furious with him. Had been for years, and he was not getting out of this. Barton just sighed and said, 

“Will showed up a few weeks after the Second Giant War,” he said softly. “He needed a place to grieve, and he didn’t think he could do that properly at camp, because—”

“Because at camp,” Annabeth finished finally softening with her own grief, “He is a leader, a healer, and needs to be strong for the others, so that they could heal.”

Barton nodded solemnly. “Gods,” he muttered, “I never wanted to see any of my siblings like that. Crumbling under the weight of two wars. That shouldn’t have happened, to any of you, you're just kids.”  

“I haven’t been a kid since I was seven years old,” Annabeth said simply, without condemnation or bitterness, just a simple statement of fact that no one could deny.

Barton nodded gravely and said again, “I’m sorry. I never should have left. I just…I was just so angry with the gods, with Chiron. He did his best, but…it wasn’t enough. They weren’t enough. Their empty platitudes and false promises. I couldn’t take it any more. I had to leave before I snapped.”

Annabeth nodded, “I know. And…I understand…I didn’t then, but…I do now. And I’m sorry to, I should have searched you out a long time ago.”

Barton didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around the young woman. They didn’t cry, or sob, or laugh. They just silently held each other in grim understanding of their world and their place in it. The play things of gods, of parents, who barely knew how to care much less love the mortals they had sired. Finally, Barton pulled away and said with a soft smile, “Hey, we’re all going to get shawarma. Care to join us? And Percy of course! I find I’m suddenly really nostalgic for camp, and I would love to hear how everyone is doing.”

Annabeth nodded and cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she said, “That sounds great.”

“So, Barton is the son of the sun?” Tony said rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to ward off a headache, “The Sun’s Son if you will?”

Barton rolled his eyes lazily and said, “Yes, Stark I’m the Sun’s Son. Sorry I couldn’t tell you, but you wouldn’t have believed me anyway. Happy?”

“No,” Stark said weakly, and dropped his head into his hands. 

A chuckle drew Natasha’s gaze back to the two other demigods and Thor chowing down on their shawarma as if they would never eat again. They were completely unfazed by the fact that they were surrounded by gods and legends, after having faced an army beyond their imaginations. But if half of what Clint, Thor, and these kids had said was true…then this was just another Tuesday for the young adults in front of them. Still, Natasha believed them. The weight of command surrounding the girl. The aura of power circling the boy. The hidden under currents of grief and horrors lurking behind their eyes. These were kids who had seen the worst of the world and had conquered it. And still, every time Natasha looked at them, Annabeth in her dirty armor, and Percy in his tattered Coast guard uniform, she couldn’t help but think, “ They’re too young for this life. ” 

Steve seemed to think the same, because he leaned forward and said, “So how old were you during your first war?”

“Fifteen, actually turned sixteen during the final battle!” Percy said around his shawarma, “Unless you're asking about how old we were when we first started training. In which case, I came to camp at twelve, and Annabeth when she was seven.”

“But,” Annabeth said after whipping her mouth, “Percy faced his first monster at…three?”

“Snakes in the crib,” Percy agreed. “Freaked my mom out. Not that I can remember it of course.”

“Spiders in my sleep,” Annabeth shivered, “I was six.”

Barton shook his head in commiseration, “Yeah, I was lucky. Harpy when I was ten. That’s when I went to camp too.”

“Are…are you ok?” Banner asked softly looking between the three of them with utter pain in his eyes. 

“Oh you know,” Percy said, finally swallowing his food, “Aside from the anxiety, paranoia, PTSD, and occasional death quest because the gods still won’t leave me alone! We’re just peachy!”

Everyone except Thor and Clint stared at them in horror, but Annabeth just waved their concern aside saying, “Look this is just the life of a half-blood. It sucks. But we deal with it. And believe it or not, it’s actually getting better.”

Percy nodded emphatically, and pointed at Clint with his fork saying, “You really need to come back to camp. So much has changed. No one’s unclaimed any more. There's cabins for the minor gods. Annabeth designed this awesome temple that’s going to represent literally every single known Greek god. It’s absolutely beautiful. They started building it last month, and it’s already looking incredible!”

“Percy!” Annabeth hissed as she tried to hide her blush, but her boyfriend just kept going. 

“Oh! And we’ve expanded the border, and we’ve started building housing for adult demigods who want to live in safety. They commute to the city and other mortal towns in Long Island for school and work. It’s not perfect. But it’s the first step in building a place where demigods can actually live their lives in peace from birth to grave.”

The look of pure joy on Barton’s face was so bright it was almost blinding, and Natasha had no problem believing that he was a son of Apollo. “That’s wonderful! What started that?”

“Oh, the Roman demigods have had their own city for generations,” Annabeth said dismissively, “It sounded like a good idea. So we convinced the gods to expand the border and provide the materials for all of the building projects as a reward for defeating Gaia. They call theirs New Rome. So we were thinking of calling our city, New Athens, or New Sparta, or something like that.”

Clint laughed saying, “Let me guess, cabins five and six can’t agree on which one?”

“They won’t stop arguing!” Percy groaned as he drew his hand over his face. “Capture the Flag has become an all out war trying to decide!” Clint burst into laughter, as Natasha turned her questioning gaze to Annabeth.

“The children of Ares and Athena,” Annabeth explained with a slight smile.

“You all do realize there were more Ancient Greek cities than Athens and Sparta right?” Bruce said slowly. 

“Wait!” Tony cried, waving his hand wildly, “Go back. Roman demigods?! Just how many pantheons are there?!” 

Percy and Annabeth shared a look that sent a pit of dread into Natasha’s stomach, and Tony’s head thumped onto the table in defeat.  

[eggcompany]

Kill a Dixon Part 4

“Um, Miss… Miss Lori?” Daryl said nervously. He was sitting in front of a big pile of socks that were spreading across the coffee table, matching together fuzzy pink ones and ones with extra support and special ones that helped Lori’s pregnancy cankle situation. But behind him the woman was watching some TV show and combing through Daryl’s hair.

Daryl didn’t mind. 

Actually he was really enjoying the way her nails scratched against his greasy and probably still dirty scalp. He hadn’t washed his hair while at Officer Walsh’s but he had rinsed it well. It was dirty, yes but not too bad. He liked the way her pink would graze his ear every so often and how cool her hands felt on his forehead and ear. It made him feel safe. 

He was in a nice cozy home, with a full stomach, wearing fresh cleaned clothes with a very nice lady petting his hair while matching up nice clean socks. It was like… like a dream. 

“Yeah, Daryl? What is it?” Lori said and sat up a bit to look down at the boy. She was having a nice time. Daryl was very helpful. He got her a glass of water when she asked, brought her the piles of folded clothes so she didn’t have to walk from the bedroom to the living room, and she had to admit that he was really like a kicked puppy. He had no manners whatsoever and didn’t really know how to do everyday housework but he tried. He tried and he learned quickly. 

Daryl just swallowed and kept his eyes down. 

“Are they gonna make me stay with my daddy? Officer Walsh and Officer Grimes, are they gonna make me stay? I know I cain’t live with Officer Walsh and I cain’t stay here but-”

“You can stay here. Actually you will stay here. Down in the basement, now it’s not really fully finished but there’s a bathroom and we just had to put a bed into storage that we can put down there. We’ve got all the supplies to finish it but then Rick was promoted and then Carl happened and we haven’t had time since.” Lori said and started hatching out a plan. It would give Daryl a space but also be separated from the main house. Plus the door down locked from the outside if ever Daryl misused their trust, or someone came to hurt him they could lock their asses down there because no one’s ever gonna hurt this poor ba-

Lori stopped her thoughts and almost giggled to herself. She was almost glad the young man was bringing her maternal ways to light. Preparing her for everything she’ll feel for Carl, to a lesser degree but preparing nonetheless. 

Daryl turned around and looked at her with those beautiful blue eyes, loose socks falling to the floor from his lap. 

“Why?” The man said quietly and kept looking at her. Why were all these people being so kind? So caring? It hurt Lri’s feelings. 

She reached out and cupped his chin, feeling the few wiry hairs that inhabited it. 

“Because I said so. Rick can talk to the low income housing people and get them to see reason. I’m sure we can find you a job, at least something to get you some money until you can find a job you like. You don’t have to stay here, no one’s gonna make you stay or go. I have a good feeling about you Daryl, and I think you feel the same way about me.” Lori said in all sincerity while staring into Daryl’s eyes, making sure he understood. Daryl just stared at her and nodded after a moment. His face turning red and tears welling in the corners of them. 

Lori wiped the ones that started to fall and gave him a smile before leaning back. 

“Plus I’m pregnant and if you try to argue with me, I’ll cry.” She said in a joking way but Daryl just sat up on his knees and sniffed a little and looked right at her with seriousness. 

“I promise I won’t make you cry.” He said and she laughed. He looked confused but she just scratched at his head and he smiled. 

Soon her three valiant men were back. Shane hugged her and left to go back to work, Rick got ready for his shift and put dinner in the crock pot, and Daryl showed Lori all his stuff. She sat down on the couch and looked at his measly belongings. He had an old battered blue canvas backpack which was packed with one plastic comb, two foldable hunter’s knives, three sleeveless button downs, a pair of tattered blue jeans, and a picture of a woman sitting on a couch holding a baby while smoking a cigarette. He also had a cross boy with four arrows which he left on the porch. 

Lori helped him put the clothes in the wash and helped her down the stairs to the basement. 

“Oh you just didn’t put the insulation and the plywood up. You just gotta use screws, it’s easy, look.” Daryl said and started lifting things into place like a puzzle. Lori handed him screws once she found where Rick had left the drill, luckily it was on the charger. 

Once he had the last of the boards put into place he was sweaty and hungry and tired. It had been a few hours, so they went up and ate what Rick had made. 

That’s usually how the first few days went. 

Daryl slept on Rick and Lori’s couch. He got up before them and sat on their porch and watched the sun rise. Rick woke up and made breakfast for Lori to eat in bed and left a plate on the table for Daryl. Lori and Rick got showers ( shower usually) then Daryl waited for Lori in the laundry room and did up the laundry with her seated on the bench folding. 

They talked a lot. Daryl had never felt like he wanted to talk to anyone. He told her about his mom, Merle’s habits and friends, and of course eventually he told her about what daddy had done. Told her crying on the couch about the men. It had always been men that hurt him. And with cool calm hands she’d pet down his back and listen. At night she’d shed a few tears telling Rick that she wanted to swaddle up the boy and carry him around in her pocket and that she hopes those men rot in the worst corner of hell. 

They’d eat lunch, Shane would call or come by to check on him and bring him stuff. Comic books since Daryl had mentioned that he couldn’t read all that well, some good socks and new underwear since Daryl didn’t have very many, and of course he brought over new documents from the court house. 

Then Shane would leave or hang up, Rick would fuss about how Daryl could eat whatever he wanted since he ‘wouldn’t be worth keeping if he was gonna wither away’, and he’d leave. They’d go to the basement, Daryl and Lori, and work on drywall and paint. Daryl was always careful not to get anything on Lori and to not make too loud of noise. Lori however laughed and flicked paint at him saying that she wasn’t made of glass. 

Daryl found that he rather liked having his walls painted warm brown, a familiar color as his walls back home were dark wood shiplap. So they painted them brown and Shane helped him put the bed in the main room, just a boxspring and a mattress on the floor. Daryl was so happy he couldn’t contain his smile. 

Then he had sheets and a blanket and an orange and black patterned quilt. He had food and his own chores to finish. He had a routine. And he was never happier. 

Lori helped him look for jobs while Shane found out where would take him if he asked. Lori found that Daryl liked quiet jobs, solitary jobs. He also liked mechanics and had taken a mechanics class in highschool and had a few certifications. He had thought about a job as a cook at a diner but then one day Shane had come in with a smile and a pat on the back. 

A salvage yard. All he did was take things apart and toy things to different areas. It was the best. So then his routine changed. He got up, showered, put on his uniform, and caught the bus. He worked from nine till noon, walked three blocks to a little cafe where a very nice lady, Carol, had a cup of ice tea and the special of the day waiting for him, and walked back to work until three. Then he would walk around in the alleys and look for stray cats and maybe do a bit of dumpster diving. Shane would pick him up on the corner near the bank and drive him home. He would get a shower in his bathroom, put his laundry in the washer, and eat dinner with Miss Lori. 

Sometimes Rick was home during dinner but most of the time he wasn’t. 

He’d started a habit of putting all the clean laundry from the week in the round white basket and every Saturday him and Miss Lori would watch House MD and fold laundry. 

Rick told him he could stay as long as he wanted. So Daryl made a home. He found a gray patterned area rug and a floor lamp in his dumpster diving which ended up actually not looking too bad in his little apartment. 

He bought Miss Lori snacks and brought her little pastries from the cafe because he didn’t have the heart to tell Miss Carol that he really didn’t like sweets. He even made some friends at the yard. There was the owner, Dale, who would tell him all sorts of cool tips and tricks and mostly worked on his own projects. There was a little asian guy who came around every Monday looking for parts for his mustang that was older than he was and always falling apart. He ended up being a really nice guy who Daryl could tease with and talk to. The guy, Glenn, eventually started coming around to hang out and talk to Daryl. 

Then Glenn and Dale start talking and they end up having beers after work on Friday’s before Glenn’s shift at the pizza shop. Then Glenn starts bringing around this girl, his girlfriend, Maggie, and her and Daryl hit it off. 

So Daryl’s routine changes again. 

Eventually he finds a nice apartment in the building next to Glenn and Maggie’s. Rick and Lori send him off with the bed they let him have, a recipe book of easy cheap recipes, and promise that they’d always be there for him. Of course Lori had made him promise to come to the hospital when Carl was born, only a few weeks away. 

“He’ll need his Uncle Daryl after all.” She had said which caused him to cry like a baby right there in the doorway. 

Sundays were for visiting Lori and Rick and helping do laundry and the week's episode of House MD. 

Mondays were for talking to Glenn, changing his bed sheets (Miss Lori demanded of it) and occasionally going and renting a movie. 

Tuesdays were for cleaning his apartment and grocery shopping with Miss Lori. 

Wednesdays were Dinner at the Grimes residence and Daryl always did his best to bring something. Most of the time though it was a small package of beers and those fizzy cherry drinks Miss Lori liked. 

Thursdays he smashed cars and played checkers with Dale. 

Fridays he had a beer after work with Dale, Glenn, and Maggie. They listen to the radio and sometimes play checkers. 

Saturdays are for sleeping in and going with the flow. Sometimes Glenn came over, sometimes he went to Miss Lori’s, and sometimes he laid in bed all day. 

And every week was similar but slightly different. 

Soon enough he was going to the Grimes residence more and more often again. He was cleaning and cooking and rocking a little tiny baby in his arms. Lori would fall asleep anywhere she could and Daryl would be happier than hell to rock little Carl or feed him a bottle. 

Then he found a little puppy hiding under a car in the yard. Mangy and dirty and smaller than his hand. Daryl had taken the day off and took the little thing to the vet. 

At the end of the day Daryl was proud of himself. He had a place of his own, a good job, a sort-of nephew, a dog called Dog, and most important of all he finally had the one thing he’d never had before, a family. A family found in a husband and wife and a sweet little baby, a bachelor, a mechanic, a pizza delivery boy and his girl, a cafe owner, and a mutty puppy dog.

[polyphonical]

Red Hot Island - Chapter 1

[ View on site for better experience♪ ]

???: .......

Location: Starmony Dorm Room (Makoto, Adonis, Chiaki's Room)

Chiaki: …Nn

…Where am I? (-- Aah… Right. This is my room in the dorms…) (Haha. Even if it was only for a moment, I can’t believe I forgot how the room I’ve been living in every day looks like.) (The dream I had was so nostalgic… I think that’s why my head got all confused when I woke up.) (There was something like that, huh… I completely forgot until I had that dream.) (I wonder if he remembers it… That small promise we made in that white room.) (That promise we made while watching our classmates going to the pool. Happily, and full of excitement, despite how hot the summer heat was.) (Well… It’s hard to say that promise was made with the purest intent. It’s more like we were miserably licking each other’s wounds.) (Even though I knew there’s no chance that promise would come true—At that time, my heart definitely felt better.) …Haha. I ended up becoming sentimental. Hmm. If Takamine were here, he’d probably say something like “Morisawa-senpai, you’re basically waving around a death flag.” …Oops. Is it that late already? I can’t just lay here and do nothing. I should probably get ready to go to today’s job.

Location: Star Pro Office

Eichi: Hm...

(I’ll just give this project to him. Next is—Ah, now that I think about it, there were some projects left on hold weren’t there?) (I should respond soon. I have a feeling he’s going to get impatient and come here yelling at me.) [1] --Hm? Hello, Anzu-chan. Good morning. What’s the matter? Hm? You want to hear my opinion? I don’t mind, but… Aah, yes. I have time right now. I was just working on some things that needed to be done by today. So? What was that thing you wanted my opinion on? Ah, perhaps it’s about that proposal you’re holding in your hand? Fufu. You don’t have to be so surprised. It’s basic reasoning, isn’t it Watson? Could I see what you’re holding there? – Thank you. …Aah, this is a project for the ES Fan Event. And the contents are… A sports day at Aquaria Park? Oh, that’s right. Last year, to promote Aquaria Park, wasn’t there a survival game job? If I remember correctly, Hokuto and the others participated, right? [2] Hm. Survival games were too niche, so it was decided that the events would be arranged to be more suitable for everyone. it’s more like variety sports festivals that are shown on programs now.

Next, for the main part… “Treasure hunting”? What’s this? Right, I’m sure it’s just as you say Anzu-chan. It seems the area for western sailboats was added around a month ago. Fufu. I see. Pirates are often associated with water. They can also remind you of treasure. It’s true that pirate manga are popular right now. I think it’s a good idea. It’s clear who the target audience is. Hm? You don’t look satisfied. Is there something you have a problem with? Hm. You’re worried about holding such a large-scale event that isn’t a live all of a sudden? Even up until now, you’ve been in charge of things other than live shows, so I don’t think there’s anything to be worried about. Plus, I don’t think there will be any issues if the work is divided and detailed checks are made throughout. Well, if you’re still worried about it Anzu-chan, how about trying out a limited play test? Hm? Ah, that’s true. I suppose the most efficient way to play test it would be to have multiple people test it at the same time. It increases the chance that something unexpected happening. It’s the easiest way to simulate a situation closer to the real deal. If that’s the case, we could implement the prototype of the treasure hunt game since it’s a limited event. If you want to use the facility, Anzu-chan, I give you full permission to do so. …Hm? Why am I the one allowing you to use the facility? Well, it’s because I’m the one in charge of Aquaria Park. It’s one of the businesses that the Tenshouin conglomerate is running. Eh? Why are you so surprised? I thought you were asking for my opinion because you knew that already. Fufu. It’s okay, I’m giving you permission. If you’re the one asking, I’m more than happy to allow it. ♪ Hm? Um… What’s with that expression? Yes, that’s true. It makes sense that if we’re going to collect data, the people who know what the purpose is should be involved. So you have a request of me? Ah… I understand what you’re saying, Anzu-chan. Well, I suppose I have no choice. Well, if I’m being honest, the benefits of this project are great from Aquaria Park’s perspective. It’d be nice if we could just throw everything in the air and enjoy it as is. But we need to contribute where we can. Hm? That’s true. Then, Anzu-chan, I would like you to choose which members you’d like to go to the pool--

………

Ah, no, it’s nothing. I just remembered something.

………

Could I ask if you leave it to me to gather the test play team? Eh? No… I don’t have any ideas on who, but… You shouldn't worry about it. I’m sure Anzu-chan is busy working on the proposal. You can leave this one to me.

────────────────· · · · · ·♡· · · · · · ────────────────

Directory ♡ Next

I have no idea who he's referring to right here sorry ToT

Referring to the story Pool !!

[kanerallels]

A little late, but finally, here are my thoughts about MSATD 4x06!

Absolutely LOVE the way it started. Because of course these two would wind up being chased around an abandoned factory by a guy Eliza DRUGGED THIS IS THE THIRD TIME SHE'S POISONED SOMEONE AND I LOVE HER FOR IT

"I used to box for County Harwick" "does that mean something?" "IT MEANS QUITE A LOT" absolutely PERISHING it reminds me of that post about the person who pretended not to know what Harvard was

(also from a writing perspective I loooooooooooove the vibes of just throwing us into the middle/end of a case, showing us that they've been working on quite a few cases together! Plus it's just a fun way of writing things)

I'm very proud of Eliza for working with a large staff well and being able to handle things on her own!

UGH FITZROY'S JERK DAD SHOWED UP I HATE THAT GUY

Okay this was probably my favorite case of the season. The suspense, the way it handled Fitzroy's struggle over being given that promotion, and the culmination was *chef's kiss*

I read this post about how Eliza's allegiance is to the truth, while Nash's isn't to money, but to the memory and legacy of his brother and this episode DEFINITELY hammered that point home! The scene where he was struggling with whether or not to kill that guy? SO well done, Felix Scott has got mad skills

(also while I am not a Patrick x Eliza shipper.... from an objective point of view they had some GOOD moments in this episode)

(I mean come on. "you're the only one who's ever believed in me"? Him putting down the gun for her and only shooting O'Driscoll when he tried to kill Eliza? Those are some pretty immaculate vibes. I'm still ride or die for Williza, but I can see where the Patrick x Eliza shippers are coming from)

(okay and the moment in Patrick's cell where he said that he wanted her to believe he was a good person and she said that would never happen (affectionate), but then he said "Perhaps not. But I'll keep trying anyways"? Giving SERIOUS Rose In Bloom vibes. If you know, you know)

ANYWAYS BACK TO THE PLOT I also really really really LOVED the last scene between Fitzroy and his father. He stood up to him!! And told him that he didn't care if he was disappointed in him!! And the fact that he might not have a lot of ambition wasn't painted as a bad thing!! I LOVED IT A LOT OKAY

Oh also I didn't really like Phelps taking William's place at first, but the idea's grown on me a lot in this past episode. I liked the part where he basically told Fitzroy that he shouldn't be doing this job to get a pat on the back-- while I get where my boy Fitzroy was coming from, and Phelps is definitely a lot harsher than I approve of, it reminded me of a scene in The Rookie. And therefore gets a pass. I also liked the way it showed that Fitzroy and Phelps are at their best when they're working together!

Oh and! I liked the moment where Eliza and Mr. Potts were talking and she finally elected to be honest with him, and that's what won him over. EXCELLENT scene, I really liked it

(also I loved how Fitztroy, when he was Stressed, rubbed his hand over his face like William does. These are the things I obsessively notice. I have issues)

And then I REALLY liked the ending. The whole "Eliza goes to work for Nash" plotline has never been my absolute favorite. It just doesn't feel super true to who she is-- instead of being the only female detective in the city, she's a female detective working under Nash. And while I did enjoy their partnership more than I expected, I'm so glad to see her back in her own office, where she belongs. And she finally changed the name at the top of the sign!!

(and OBVIOUSLY I loved the William flashback at the end)

So overall, this was a really fun season!! Even though I was sad to not have William for the last two episodes, they were still really fun. Eliza and Patrick have great chemistry together on screen, and they're a really fun duo to watch!

Also, even those I missed Moses a LOT, I enjoyed some of the new characters-- namely, Clarence-- and the focus on some of the old ones, like Fitzroy and Phelps!!

And I DEFINITELY can't wait for the next season

[apotodiplodocus]

OK so I've never actually had a tumblr before today so I'm still very new to how it all works, I hope I don't miss something! Just going to be updating whats on my AO3 to here and if anyone has any questions I'll answer those!

SECURITY

Chapter 1

Your desk is a mess of papers, preparing a presentation for a client that you were meeting in 10 minutes, your eyes threatening to spin straight out of their sockets. Your job used to be simple before this project came up, you just had to worry about emails and excel sheets, but now you had to actually talk to clients. The area being a bit shady there were a lot of crummy clients who wanted more than just the project information and now you were tasked with dealing with them. Though, this was your first big project and you had tirelessly been working to make it perfect hoping it could be enough to get the promotion management has been dangling over your head the past two months. You needed that money to send back to your family, it would be life-changing for them if you could just send them a little more a month.

Wrapped up in thoughts of your family you didn’t notice your manager approaching you nervously, nor the second set of footsteps behind her. She cleared her throat for your attention which you gave, a frazzled look upon your face.

“Good afternoon yn. Are you ready for your presentation?” She said keeping her focus on you like she was worried about something; you took it as a fear that the project would fall through.

“Yes, I’ve been preparing for weeks so don’t worry if I can just get to the end of my presentation, I’m sure Mr Komaji will be hooked!” You smiled reassuringly at her and she cleared her throat again, more out of anxiety than the need for attention.

“Yes, well… I feel it’s only fair I make you aware of Mr Komaji’s… Track record. You see he can get rather, how do I put it? Handsy? Please just keep your distance and stay focused on the presentation, try not to get side-tracked with a conversation outside of what he needs to know for work. Plus you won’t be in there alone we’re sending a security officer in with you, just to be safe. This is-“ She quickly pauses and takes a breath as if scared to even say his name as you finally notice the man behind her. “Gyutaro Shabana.” She finishes shuddering like the sound of his name was disgusting to her senses. You felt as if she was unnecessarily rude.

Your eyes flickered to him as he stepped out from behind her, your position sat down making him seem so tall, you can’t believe you didn’t notice him before. You notice he had dyed his hair green and let it grow out revealing his black roots, was dyed hair even allowed here? You couldn’t remember, but you couldn’t help but think his hair and birthmarks on his face just made him so incredibly unique. Did you like unique before? Who knows, but you know it looks good on him.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Shabana, I’m looking forward to working with you! I’ll be in your hands today.” You flashed a bright smile. Your reaction made him look weirded out and he bristled at what you called him.

“Gyutaro, I don’t like being called Shabana.” He says looking away from you, hands in his uniform pockets. It seems like he took liberties with his uniform as well as his hair, the uniform you were accustomed to being much neater. He had disregarded the tie and fleece, popped open the top couple of buttons of his shirt and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, allowing you a view of the way the muscles of his arms rippled when he moved ever so slightly. You hadn’t thought his arms could be that ripped for such a skinny guy. Clearing your throat after your blatant staring, a light blush crept up your neck and down from your ears.

“OK, Gyutaro, I can do that. Will you be OK to go in… Crap! Now?” You exclaimed after checking your watch. You quickly gathered your materials and locked your computer, barely hearing his acknowledgement in the sound of an amused hum at your panic. You scurried to the meeting room, you had to pass through ten doors to get to the meeting room and for all except the very last door he had walked through, not holding the door open or waiting for you as you fumbled with your folders trying to keep pace with him. It irked you a little bit, but it wasn’t really his job to hold the doors open.

When you did reach the meeting room door, Gyutaro waited for you to catch up before walking in first, holding the door open for you. You thanked him with a smile, the much taller man looking away with what you hoped was a faint blush on his ears. Turning your attention to the balding man sitting at the conference table. He stands up and goes to shake your hand but Gyutaro steps in, putting a hand between you and Mr Komaji.

“Hands off.” He states as if a handshake was not normal business practice, but you couldn’t help but be thankful since you had caught him staring at your legs.

“I feel a bit offended you thought you would need a guard to sit in with us.” He declares, and you realise this is going to be a bigger pain than you thought. The man backed off and sat back down, patting the seat next to him. Gyutaro bristles and you realise just how tall he actually is while staring at his back, it seems like he was slouching on the way over but had straightened up before going into the room. Shaking your head you refocused on the man but sat on the other side of the table from him, away from the door.

“Sorry Mr Komaji, it’s policy.” It was in fact not policy, but you needed this project, so you couldn’t let him get offended.

Gyutaro moves to stand behind your seat, crossing his arms. While you are blissfully unaware of Gyutaro’s expression, Komaji can barely look in your direction, sheer intimidation making him hesitant.

Eventually, your presentation starts and Komaji slowly gets used to Gyutaro’s presence, he becomes bold once more, blatantly staring at any exposed flesh and your chest. You feel so naked under his gaze, but Gyutaro makes you feel ten times safer. Gyutaro has positioned himself barely a foot away from your chair, he’s so close you can hear his breathing go from calm to aggravated the bolder Komaji becomes. The more you thought about the safety that oozed from the man behind you, feeling at home in his ‘protection bubble’ the less you focused on the presentation. You stumble over yourself and Komaji decides it’s the perfect time to push boundaries, thinking you stumbled because you were too distracted by him.

“There, there my dear-“ As he reached across the table to grasp the back of your hand, his own is snatched away.

“Hands to yourself. I won’t say it again.” The man flinches at Gyutaro’s touch and after a moment of surprise, wrenches his hand from your guard’s grip. Not-so-subtly Komaji uses hand sanitiser as if he could catch something from Gyutaro. You tense and clench your fist in anger, how rude could this man be? You want to rip him a new one for disrespecting Gyutaro when he was just doing his job, but a snicker from Gyutaro stops you. You visibly relax and take a calming breath in. Hold, and then breathe out. Putting on your best customer service smile you continue your presentation.

After 5 minutes as you’re about to finish, the radio on Gyutaro’s belt goes off, beeping and screeching. You turn to look, and he meets your eye, holding it up for you to see.

“I’ll be right back. I’ll be right outside the door.” He declares pointedly staring at Komaji, who doesn’t even acknowledge him. He leaves an eye trained on the man all the way until the door closes behind him. It’s muffled but you can hear him talking to someone. You turn back to Komaji to continue but notice he’s now stood up, looking down at you in such a predatory way you freeze, feeling more prey than human. He was not as deterred by Gyutaro as you had hoped, as he approaches the door he begins to speak.

“Now that insect is gone, we can really get to business.” He attempts to purr out, and you hear the awful sound of the door lock clicking quietly. As he now approaches you, he starts complimenting your figure, saying awful, vile things. Your heart pounds and hot bile rises in your throat, contradicting the cold shiver that ripples and waves down your spine.

He stops not too far from you and as you are frozen, he takes a moment to drink you in, apparently not worried about Gyutaro on the other side of the door. You want to call out to him, but the fear has you turned to stone.

“Since I’ve locked the door, he’ll have to go to the security office on the other side of the building to get the keys. That’ll give us at least 5 minutes to conclude our business.” He growls on the approach again. The flinch from the impending sense of doom renders you able to move at last and your paralysed vocal cords return as you scream for Gyutaro. The volume makes the man pause as he watches the door.

“Shut up, you little bitch, you need my money, don’t you? Now be a good little whore and give yourself to me.” He snarls. It was only a few seconds, but your heart threatens to screech to a stop until you hear heavy footsteps pound towards the door. Gyutaro’s body slams against the door, it rattling the frame. The vibrations again draw the man’s attention away from you and you take the momentary distraction to quickly stand up and retreat to the back of the room, Komaji blocking your way to the door. The door handle rattles violently and there are a few good slams which you assume is Gyutaro’s shoulder.

Komaji looks slightly perturbed at the strength Gyutaro clearing has to be shaking even the doorway, but stalks towards you nonetheless confident he still has time. As he starts closing in, however, there is an enormous bang, and the sound of splintering wood greets your ears. Looking at the door you don’t even get the chance to see Gyutaro at the door before he’s in front of you, taking Komaji to the ground. Trying to take in the situation, you first focus on what the sound was and see the door almost in shreds, having been kicked in, an amazing show of strength. You look to the men on the ground and see Gyutaro holding the man’s arms up to his shoulder blades, one knee to the side of Komaji and the other pressing down just below Komaji’s arms.

“I’m sure a guy like you is so used to things going your way, aren’t you? How great for you man. Not that a could be envious of a creepy parasite like you. You clearly have enough money to think her silence can be bought, don’t you? Goood for you man. How unlucky for you that I’m here though.” Gyutaro snarls accentuating his point by pushing Komaji’s arms further up his back and you hear a quiet popping sound right before Komaji yells in pain.

It's weird for you to admit but it does something to you, seeing Gyutaro’s prowess despite looking unassuming. Your eyes are fixed on the flex of his biceps against the straining fabric of his shirt.

“Get off me you wretch! I swear I’ll report you for misconduct and assault! Both of you! And you-!” His eyes fix on you, and the pent-up stress makes your legs weak, sliding down the wall behind you “The project is off! I’ll make sure no one gives you anything again! That’ll keep you quiet won’t it bitch? Being unable to send money to your precious family! You stupid-!” Gyutaro is pushing upwards again, Komaji thrashing below him.

“Eyes on me, cretin. Don’t look at her, don’t speak to her, don’t think about her. I’m the one you should be worried about right now.” Gyutaro growls. If you didn’t feel so ridiculous that would have been hot, you may have even had to fan yourself. You snap out of your stupor and get up on shaky legs and put a hand on Gyutaro’s shoulder. His head whirls around but his expression softens when he sees your fear, it somewhat reminding him of Ume.

“Enough now please, I don’t want you to get fired.” You say gently.

Gyutaro thinks for a second, pondering your words and you feel like he’s looking through you, then he stands to his full height stepping back from Komaji, watching him squirm on the ground.

Gyutaro starts giggling to himself quietly, strangely endearing as it is, you are awfully confused.

“Gyutaro?”

“Ya say you’ll report us for misconduct, but your stupid pig brain clearly can’t comprehend the idea of CCTV. I may have t’pay for the door but then m’good. You really are disgraceful you know that? I’m gonna make sure you get shit for being a predator.” He cackles towards the end, and you understand his confidence, yes there’ll be trouble because of this but he is the one who was clearly planning to assault you. Again the man sees something you don’t. The way Gyutaro stares at Komaji after his laughing fit ends is truly fear-inspiring. He looks as if he’s measuring Komaji for a coffin and the balding man knows if he didn’t have a job to look out for, he would be beaten to within an inch of his life- if not worse.

There’s a moment of quiet staring at each other where you can sense the tension between them, Komaji looks terrified, and suddenly Gyutaro whips down and picks Komaji up by the scruff of his neck and marches him out of the building. You collapse into a chair when the disgusting man is gone and you don’t think you need to cry, you don’t want to. You’re just glad Gyutaro was there to save you and thinking of it again you remember the door and stand up to inspect it. There is a huge crater right next to the lock and there are pieces of wood all over the floor, you don’t understand how that is even possible, a solid wood door, these weren’t cheap.

You crouch down to start picking up bits of wood feeling bad for the cleaners, taking them into your hand, it’s nice to have an unnecessary task to take your mind off what could have just happened.

Gyutaro is coming back fiddling with his radio on his belt and re-attaching it when he spots you crouched on the floor, he is taken aback by the curve of your legs in your skirt but chides himself for faltering in his stride. You just had something awful happen he definitely isn’t gonna flirt with you after that, even if he did think he was ‘worthy’. He strolls over hands back in his pockets and crouches down with you just watching you.

“What’re ya doing?” He says looking at you like you are mad.

“… I’m picking up pieces of the door, so I don’t think about what just happened and start crying.” Gyutaro is surprised by your honesty and thinks for a second, he can already see the type of person you are.

“Don’t. People get paid to do this.” He grabs your wrist lightly and empties out what you have in your hand into his. He doesn’t look at you as he stands to throw the splinters away. He returns to you and waits for you to stand up, when you don’t he huffs and holds out his hand. You take it as softly as possible letting him help you stand up.

“Thank you so much. I… I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there. Truly thank you so much.” You stare at the floor because you can’t bear to look up at him with the dark blush staining your face, he really saved you.

“Whatever, my shithead co-worker locked himself out. Shouldn’t’ve gone to let him back in. Fuck – I wanna beat that scumbag.” He clenches his fists, the tension coming back to him.

“I’ll pay for the door; you broke it getting to me from a situation I could have stopped. I should have been firmer.” You say feeling at fault.

“Are you stupid?” He questions looking down his nose at you a small smirk on his face.

“What?” Your head shoots up in disbelief.

“I said, are you stupid? He woulda tried something whether you were firmer than a rock. Chicken shits like that don’t care how scary a woman is, to them they are still just women. And don’t jus’go assuming I need you to pay for the door, I’ve never done a half-assed job and m’not gonna start now.” He huffed.

“Oh… I see. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make it seem like I thought you couldn’t afford it. Are you sure it’s OK? I really don’t mind. Or if you won’t let me pay for the door, I insist you let me take you out for food.” You demand, stubbornly looking up at him through your lashes, blush painted over your cheeks. Gyutaro almost flinches at the sudden request and at seeing the blush on your face. Is it really possible an attractive woman would want to take him out? He mulls over his options, weighing the pros and cons.

“… OK fine, you can take me out for food tonight. I’ll meet you at the main doors after work.”

“Oh! OK, thank you Gyutaro! I finish at 5.” You call after him.

“I know.”