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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years

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Jensen | Scott Reed

Clay Jensen, there were many ways that you could describe the boy. As expected by many at school, he was a massive nerd, the posters on his bedroom wall served as evidence for that fact. He was smart as well, most of the time overthinking things, including people.

He had a theory that the baseball player Scott Reed was like all of the other members of his team, but you knew the truth. The boy was no rapist or pervert, nor was Zach for that matter. He was sweet and enjoyed taking his significant other to the movies and sneaking little heartfelt notes into their locker.

How did you know this? Because you were his significant other, and to your luck, your brother so happened to be extremely overprotective and your boyfriend’s biggest hater. If he knew that Scott Reed was currently sat on your bed with a calculus book in his hand, you were sure a window would be smashed or something ridiculous like that.

Your mum and dad were aware that the boy was over, just not of your private relation to him. You prayed one day that your brother would chill and that you could tell your family about it with no dramatic reactions.

“I just don’t get it.” You groaned, burying your head into one of your pillows. Scott smirked at your reaction, shaking his head in amusement.

“Maybe you would if you stopped getting so distracted Jensen.” At this, you removed your head from the cushion, glaring up at the attractive boy with spite in your eyes.

“It’s not my fault that my tutor is the one distracting me.” The simplest thing was that you could do was blame him, because it was the truth after all. His eyes were captivating, pulling you into their hazel depths, making you never want to look away as they shone brighter.

He was not just another jock, as Clay thought. They were typically crude and perverted to the girls that crossed their paths. Exemplary people would be Bryce Walker, the rich boy with almost too much money to spend. This gave him the want for nothing, and ended with the desire for one thing that he could not control – other people’s bodies, whether they gave consent or not. And then there was Montgomery de la Cruz, the teen with raging anger issues and a tendency to inject himself with minerals that affected his performance on the field.

But Scott, as cliché as it may have sounded, was different. He liked dates at Monet’s over Rosie’s, the whole atmosphere was different. Quieter.

“Well, have you got any ideas how I can undistract you?” At his words and smirk, you scoffed, disappointed in his intellect. He was your tutor, and yet he was oblivious to his own Grammarly mistakes.

“Undistract is not a word.” You tapped his nose with the bottom of your pen, laughing lightly at the frown that settled upon his tanned face. And then he began to lean in, coming closer to the space surrounding your face, and you would have openly kissed him if your bedroom door had not opened, revealing the act that the pair of you were about to take part in.

“Dad!” You exclaimed, shuffling away from Scott, offended by his lack of manners. He could have at least knocked. Sighing at his raised eyebrows, you finally spoke. “What is it?”

A blush had rose upon Scott’s cheeks. This was not the impression that he had wanted to give. He was supposed to be helping you study, and yet your parent had discovered him attempting to make a move, in your bedroom, with the door closed and the curtains drawn. That was not embarrassing at all…

“Sorry to have disturbed… whatever is going on here.” Honestly, your father could not have been more awkward, but that was nothing new. “But dinner’s ready, mum wanted me to come and get you two.”

Dropping your pen dramatically on your bed, making sure that the lid was on so that you wouldn’t get any ink on your duvet cover, you arose, Scott copying your actions. The walk downstairs was quiet, and so was Clay once the two of you seated yourselves in the kitchen.

Scott was besides you, and Clay opposite, and he was glaring daggers at your secret boyfriend. “Thankyou Mrs Jensen.” Scott smiled at your mother as she placed the plate down in front of him, and Clay rolled his eyes at his politeness. He was sure that this was all an act, configured in a plan of Bryce’s to get back at him for that night that he went to visit him with the recorder. The last thing that he wanted was you to be hurt because of his own dedication to Hannah, or hurt in general.

“I approve of your tutor.” She winked at you, making you slink down in your seat and Scott laugh nervously. You should have known that your father would not have stayed silent, this was inevitable. Your parents practically told each other everything, except when your mum was working on a private case, such as details about the current Baker one.

“You should have seen them, they were close to kissing when I got up there.” Your dad laughed, paying no mind to the fact that you were near on a puddle on the ground. Scott rubbed the back of his neck, and Clay, well Clay grew redder than the devil, angered by your betrayal.

“He’s friends with Bryce.” He reminded you strongly, causing the entire room to turn silent.

“But he’s nothing like him. Scott only hangs around with those assholes because of sports, same as Zach. If you can understand his side, then you surely can understand my boyfriend’s, you just don’t want to.”

And that’s when you realised by your brother’s reaction, that you had just let your personal matters slip. “Boyfriend?” He all but shouted, standing from his seat and pacing.

“Yes, my boyfriend.” You confirmed, feeling bad for putting Scott in this position, but Clay had to accept the truth.

“Clay, I would never let anyone hurt her.” He tried to relax him by confirming that fact, but it only seemed to have the effect of riling him up further.

“But you’ve stayed mute about Bryce raping any other girl. What are you, scared of him? Because you should be, he could fuck up your entire life. He did so to Hannah’s, and she wasn’t the only one! How can you say that you won’t let your friend hurt my little sister when your close enough to him liken Justin was with Jessica?”

If this was the path that Clay was going down, you knew one thing that would make him stop. His secret. The one thing of many that he had been hiding from your parents. He was trying to drag Scott down before their eyes, and visibly it was working, from the tears that were lining the insides of his eyes and the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. So you would use some reverse psychology in return.

“What would Justin say to that analogy?” You wondered, receiving a silent glare from Clay telling you to shut your mouth. “Maybe I should go upstairs and get him.” You turned to your parents mindlessly before sparing them a note of information that they weren’t aware of. “Oh yeah, by the way, Clay’s been hiding Justin upstairs, detoxing him and keeping him locked up before over two weeks.” And then you would have focused back on your brother, if it weren’t for Scott.

“Justin’s upstairs?” Perhaps a friend could bring the pair of Scott and Clay together, enforcing them to look past their multiple differences that had categorized them into very separated people at school. But right now, you nor them were at school, meaning there was no reason to cause a feud because of their temporary social groups.

#scott reed x reader #scott x reader #scott reed imagine #scott reed fanfic #scottreed #scott reed #13rw x reader #13rw fanfiction #13 reasons why #13 reasons why x reader #13 reasons imagine #scott x reader imagine #brandonbutler #brandon x reader #13 reasons why imagine #13 reasons why imagines #13 reasons x reader

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

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Can I be cheeky and ask for a wheel spin for Scott? ^^"

I did the spinning thing and got ‘concussion’ and ‘office cubicle’

Here be the result.

Spin the wheel and send me a prompt with a character :D

-o-o-o-

Carly had been through a lot in her short time at Tracy Industries, but this took the cake.

“I assure you, Tracy, if you give yourself up, everything will go much, much better for your employees.” The man’s voice was gravelly as he projected across the office space. She couldn’t see him from where she was crouched in a random cubicle, but she didn’t need to.

The man was a villain straight out of a movie – dark-haired, more muscle than brains, he even sported a moustache out of the eighteenth century. Carly had seen one like that on one of her great times whatever grandfathers.

Mom was really into genealogy.

But none of that was important.

What was important was her boss. Scott Tracy, a man she admired beyond belief, was curled up in the cubicle with her, his head in her lap.

Of course, this was a position she may have daydreamed about at some point, but those dreams usually involved summer days and lazing in a field under a tree with a picnic rug and a bottle of bubbly.

It should also be noted that they were daydreams that were likely shared by ninety percent of the female staff in the building and in no way ever considered an actual possibility.

And never involved a gun man or his six equally armed cronies.

Mr Tracy had simply been walking towards his office. He made a point of making his way through the cubicle forest and saying good morning to any he encountered. Those who had been here long enough claimed that it was a tradition sprouted by Mr Tracy Senior before his tragic death.

Every one knew how good the Tracys were.

She had never worked in an environment where so many people so admired their employer. Even if he wasn’t in the building very often, he still put in effort. There were teleconferences, his hologram was a familiar sight as were the interruptions followed by some dramatic news story where X amount of people were saved by the same man and his brothers.

They were led by a hero.

And their work reflected that aim. Tracy Industries was a massive engine churning out so much good into the world. It still worked as a business. It had to, to stay solvent and stable in a world much less kind than the Tracys themselves. But it was the small things. The disability aids, the charity work, the environmental projects, the doing simply because there was a need. The profit margin kept so much going that was so needed in the world.

And in the middle of her office stood a man who wanted to take that all away.

“C..arly.” Fogged blue eyes searched for her as his head bled on the print of her dress.

She touched a finger to his lips without thinking. A motion she would have done for her boyfriend and never for her boss, but the massive presence of Scott Tracy had been reduced to an injured man who had almost died as the bullet clipped his temple.

There had been so much screaming as her workmates dove for cover. Whether the gunman wanted Mr Tracy dead or for some other nefarious purpose, she didn’t know. She would say she didn’t care or that it was irrelevant, but it did matter as she had seen enough movies to know that that would affect what the asshole was willing to do to get to her boss.

His hand reached up and took her finger away. “Help me up.” And he was straining to climb to his feet.

“No.” It took very little to hold him down which only proved that he should stay down.

“He’s going to hurt pe’ple.”

Carly pressed her lips together as she caught the eye of Barb in the cubicle across from hers. “You let us worry about that.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head, only to have to close his eyes at the movement.

She brushed a hair off his forehead.

“Scott Tracy! Is this one your secretary?” A woman’s cry echoed across the room. “She is very beautiful. You picked a nice one. A dead one if you don’t show yourself by the count of five.”

Scott tried to get up again, this time opening his mouth to yell something.

She clamped her hand down and muffled whatever he was trying to say just as the gunman squawked in pain. “You bitch! You bit me!” There was the sound of a scuffle and the gun went off.

Silence followed.

Mr Tracy’s eyes widened in horror and glistened in the overhead lighting. Again, he tried to rise, but couldn’t.

Carly shook her head and mouthed a silent ‘I’m sorry’. She had to blink away her own tears.

“You’re not going to find him.”

Carly blinked. That was Marcus, the guy who fixed her computer. Ever the nerd, he wore a Trek tie to work almost every day and the days he didn’t, it was a Doctor Who tie.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

The click of the gun. “And who is going to stop me?”

Barb scuttled out of her cubicle, her headset on her head whispering ever so quietly. Her eyes pinned Carly and clearly told her to keep their boss safe.

Carly swallowed hard.

The shift of an office chair. “I will stop you.” The voice shook but held strong, this time a woman she didn’t recognise.

“Me, too.” A wavery male voice.

“And me.”

Then there were many voices filling the audio space of the room.

“Then we will kill you all.” The gunman yelled over the ruckus, only to scream out in pain. Anger and screams overtook and Carly clutched her boss to her, tears running down her cheeks.

A roar suddenly drowned out everything. A roar that every employee knew well.

The roar of a Thunderbird.

The sound of breaking glass.

More yelling.

But no more gunfire.

Mr Tracy’s blue eyes were wet and struggling to focus on her.

Until they closed and didn’t open again.

Shit.

Her fingers scrambled for a pulse as her own staggered until she found it.

“Please, Mr Tracy.” She brushed that same stray hair off his forehead and it stubbornly flicked back.

Barb suddenly appeared, a woman in IR blue-grey beside her. Security.

“John, I’ve got him. We need Virgil in here.”

“FAB.”

Carly barely registered the exchange, only that there were suddenly hands attempting to take her boss away.

Her unconscious and possibly dying boss, Mr Tracy.

She struggled a moment, but the woman’s grip was like iron and Barb grabbed Carly, soothing words spilling all over her.

A man in green and blue appeared with a stretcher. Curt words, an examination and Mr Tracy was whisked away.

Carly found her hands empty.

“Are you okay?” A young man, blonde, blue eyes, IR uniform slashed in red. His hand gently urged her to stand. When she did, she rose into a world that was no longer a cubicle forest and more like a war zone.

Office furniture lay scattered everywhere. Several cubicle walls had been pushed over. Everyone was milling about, some angry, some crying. IR security was everywhere, intermixed with Tracy Industries security.

“Ma’am, please sit down.” A chair was found and she was deposited in it. Alan Tracy, because that is who he was - Carly knew that, as much as she knew she was likely in shock, she was shaking so much. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “Mr Tracy was shot.”

“We know. Virgil’s on it.” As if on command, Thunderbird Two, which had been hovering outside the windows, spun midair and tore off into the distance.

The absence of its engine roar left a gap that had many of the people in the room muttering.

“What happened to the bad guys?” She blinked.

“They didn’t stand a chance.” The youngest Tracy was checking her pulse and frowning at her.

“Who got shot?”

Barb answered. “Julie from social networking was shot in the shoulder. Ms Kyrano says she should be okay. Took a chunk out of the bastard’s arm with her teeth though.” Barb was actually smiling.

Alan was staring at Barb, frowning.

The office coordinator caught his stare and threw it back at him. “We take care of our own, Mr Tracy. No asshole is going to mess with our family on my shift.” She squeezed Carly’s arm before turning back to the chaos and began issuing orders.

Alan turned back to Carly.

“Wow, she’s a little scary.”

Carly straightened, finally finding her spine. “We’re all the same, Mr Tracy. You don’t mess with Tracy Industries.”

Her lip trembled as his blue eyes widened.

She swallowed suddenly aware of exactly what she had been willing to offer. “We protect our own.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Scott Tracy #outsider pov

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sondepoch · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4

Hearts on Three (Satan x Reader)

The athlete and the nerd. The rich kid and the scholarship student. The girl who will constantly joke about breaking your knee caps and the boy who will actually do it. There are so many ways to describe your relationship with Satan. Too many, if you’re being honest. He’s your best friend. The smartest tutor you’ve ever had. He also spends thousands of dollars for you at the drop of a hat and holds your hand when you’re feeling down. And in the beginning, that's okay. Neither of you let yourselves get bogged down by labels, both of you content to just savor this newfound friendship. But deeper feelings always have a way of complicating things. And for better or for worse, you and Satan are no exception.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎

MASTERLIST

“Bro, you good?”

Satan blinks the sleep from his eyes at the feeling of a pencil tapping against his shoulder, groggily turning to face the owner of the voice that tore him from his precious slumber.

“...bwha?” is the educated response Satan can come up with in his sleep-addled mind.

Solomon snorts.

“Dude, this is the third time you’ve fallen asleep in class this week.” The white-haired athlete grins. “Keep this up and I’m gonna score better than you on tomorrow’s test.”

“We have a…”

Satan groans inwardly. He has a test tomorrow? The blonde blinks up at the board. It takes a second for his vision to clear, but then it registers that he’s in math class, and everything else falls into place. A quick scan over the whiteboard confirms that Satan didn’t miss anything important, that the chapter the teacher is covering is something Satan taught himself roughly two years back, but the boy still groans to himself in frustration. He doesn’t like to sleep through class. Ever.

“Thanks for waking me up,” Satan mumbles to his friend when he glances at the clock. It seems that Solomon let him doze for nearly the entire period, opting to wake him up a mere minute before the bell should ring.

“No problem. But seriously, I’ve never seen you slack this hard. You good?”

“I’m fine. I’m just tired because…” Satan trails off, hesitant to confess that the reason he’s so exhausted is because of you. No doubt, Solomon would read way too deeply into that—nope, wait, it looks like Solomon figured it out on his own from the shit-eating grin he’s now sporting.

“Ah, your future girlfriend, is it?” Solomon leans back in his chair, grinning. “The love life is rough, buddy. Make sure you’re using protection at night, though.”

Satan has never been more relieved to hear a bell ring.

“Would you lower your voice?” He growls when a couple of kids passing by give him weird looks. Satan glares hard at Solomon, but the latter gives a grand total of zero (0) shits.

“Sorry,” Solomon says in a voice that makes it all too clear that he’s not sorry.

Satan has never hated his schedule more than in the next moment when he realizes that Solomon is in his next class and that they can’t split ways. Worse yet, it’s Physical Education—the stupidest course of all time because all it consists of is kids walking in circles for an entire hour and being “encouraged” to run. And somehow, to top it off, Satan always ends up walking with Solomon.

“We’re not together,” Satan grunts to his friend when they’re outside doing laps around the track. “It’s just that it’s fucking hard to balance club duties, her volleyball schedule, and my own studies.”

“I totally get it,” Solomon blurts. “But you’ve gotta get used to it, bro. Imagine how much harder it’s gonna be to when the two of you start dating! You’ll have to take her out on dates, and—fuck—have you ever been to one of her games? She has crazy stamina, man. The two of you’ll be at it all night.”

Satan thinks back to freshman orientation, wondering why, of all the places to sit, he chose the seat next to the most annoying person in the entire academy.

“Solomon, can you shut the fuck up?”

Solomon, unsurprisingly, does not shut the fuck up.

With enough difficulty, Satan does finally manage to steer the topic away from Solomon’s matchmaking attempts and towards more normal topics. Namely, Satan’s matchmaking attempts. Of course, just as Satan places no weight on Solomon’s opinions on his love life, Solomon completely ignores Satan’s advice to stop beating around the bush and just ask Asmo out, the athlete having the nerve to say “I’ll ask Asmo out when you ask our volleyball captain out”—as if you and Satan have a remotely similar history to Asmo and Solomon, who, as now known by the entire campus, are both desperately pining for each other but are too dumb to see it.

Satan sighs, shaking his head.

Idiots, he thinks. I’m surrounded by idiots.

It’s to this thought that Satan hears someone calling his name in the distance: an extremely familiar voice, almost grating on the ears, but a voice he knows he should not be hearing.

Satan shakes his head, deciding that he’ll clear up his schedule today so he gets a nap in because surely, surely he must be imagining you calling his voice. Surely you’re not actually on this track field. Surely you’re not cutting English, of all courses, a subject that Satan insists you pay extra attention to because it’s the single course you're most likely to fail.

“Bro,” Solomon whispers, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Satan closes his eyes, trying to see if pretending that he doesn’t hear your footsteps sprinting closer and closer towards him will make it so that they’re not real.

It doesn’t work.

“Satan!” You shriek, now close enough that he can’t pretend you’re a figment of his imagination anymore. “Satan! Satan, Satan, Satan!”

The blonde continues staring resolutely forward, committing himself to the ideology of I do not see it, therefore it is not happening.

Unfortunately, Satan sees it. And so it happens.

Without any warning whatsoever, you lurch forward and grapple on to Satan, wrapping your limbs around him like a literal koala as you yeet yourself onto him with enough force that Satan is just barely able to remain standing when you attach yourself to him while shrieking: ”Satan! Guess what, guess what!”

The blonde is at a loss for words, so dumbfounded and taken aback that it’s all he can do to sputter out a confused “w-what?”

You grin at him with a smile so wide it looks like it hurts, and Satan can only stare as you reveal what made you so happy.

“I got an 85 on the Shakespeare test!”

The Shakespeare test, the man thinks, trying to remember.

The Shakespeare test, he repeats in his mind, a vision of you cram-reading the final acts of King Lear flashing through his mind

The Shakespeare test! Satan realizes with a start, suddenly recalling how it was a test he expected you to fail.

Satan’s mouth drops open at that. He had been prepared for you to get a 20, a 30; the highest you told him to expect was a 60, and even that was below the fail margin, but an 85? Holy shit, Satan might cry if he got a grade like that, but for you, it’s a genuine accomplishment, and he’s fucking proud.

“You’re joking,” he blurts, already calculating how this will affect your average and, holy shit, it’s actually going to pull you up to a passing grade.

“I’m not!” you declare with so much happiness that it’s infectious, and then the two of you are hugging and laughing except that Satan’s literally carrying you so it’s awkward, but neither of you care because this is the highest grade you’ve pulled all year, and Satan is finally beginning to feel like the late hours and the sleepless nights are all worth it.

The two of you are grinning and beaming at each other even when you finally de-koala yourself from Satan and land on the ground; and it’s at this precise moment that Satan realizes just how many people are watching.

The blonde clears his throat awkwardly.

It felt so natural when you tackled Satan midair, but he’s now beginning to realize just how intimate that whole scene looked to any onlookers. He stiffens, and you seem to notice, your own demeanor turning sheepish in turn.

A low whistle from next to you diffuses the situation.

“An 85, huh?” Solomon slings an arm around your shoulder, sandwiching you between him and Satan as the three of you continue walking along the track field—effectively sending a message to anyone watching that the show is over. “Not bad, Captain, not bad.”

“It’s amazing, Solomon!” you cry out in turn, grinning as you lean into his shoulder. (Satan doesn’t feel weird when he sees that, he swears he doesn’t.) “I haven’t scored this high since, well, I dunno. I don’t really pay attention to the scores I get because they’re always so low!”

Solomon laughs at that, definitely remembering when he was the same way.

“It’s all thanks to Satan, no?” Solomon prods, and the blonde shoots a sharp look at his friend. He’s up to something. Satan isn’t sure if he wants to know what.

“Oh, definitely! He literally read every single text out loud to me! I left this one book for the very last day, and he actually stayed with me and—”

“You need to get back to class,” Satan swiftly interrupts, his ears turning red. “You did well on one test, but you need to pay attention if you want to continue.”

“Oh, but—”

Satan practically shoves you away, gesturing wildly the whole time with a vigor that has you confused but compliant as you slowly depart, doubtlessly making your way back to the English building as slowly as you possibly can.

When you’re gone, Solomon snorts.

“You read to her?” He asks, expression brimming with mirth.

“It’s not—it’s an effective studying technique that we use to save time—”

“Oh my god,” Solomon mumbles under his breath, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. “Next thing you know, I’ll find out that she’s sleeping on your shoulder or something. Seriously, Satan, way to make a move early on.”

Satan is incredibly grateful that Solomon doesn’t see how his face changes at that part, a flush rising on his cheeks when he realizes that you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder not once, now, but several times.

“Shut up,” Satan grumbles, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

“No way, man!” Solomon cackles with laughter, finding great amusement in his friend’s frustration. “Oh my god, the two of you are so perfect for each other that it hurts! Here, take a look at this—”

Solomon pulls up his phone and opens up his Photo Gallery, swiping twice before handing it over to Satan.

“Just look at that, dude—” he gestures vaguely at the picture. “You two already look like you’re dating.”

Satan stares at the image, his feet slowing down. It’s a picture of you and Satan hugging, taken conveniently when you were still koala-ing Satan with your entire body because of course Solomon was able to get a picture that quickly, and although Satan can’t see either of your faces due to the side angle, even he has to acknowledge that the two of you really do look like a couple.

“It’s not like that,” Satan mumbles, shaking his head as he hands the phone back to Solomon.

This might be the first time, though, that he actually entertains the thought of what it would be if it was like that.

It’s not a terrible thought.

You hate away-scrimmages for a lot of reasons.

The first reason is that, more often than not, the environment is hostile. The other team is always bound to have more support, more cheering, more motivation powering them forward while yours has nothing more than the girls on the bench and the loud voice of your coach.

The second reason is that they always feel like a waste of time. Scrimmages, by nature, are meant to be an extension of practice. So what’s the point of a scrimmage if you spend more time driving to the school than you spend playing against the school? It’s totally backwards, in your opinion, and pretty stupid.

The third reason is the most compelling reason, though. And it’s probably because this is the issue you’re dealing with right now: the fact that at away-scrimmages, if there does happen to be someone from your school who puts in the time and effort to come watch, the pressure on your shoulders instantly triples. Scrimmages are supposed to be fun, enjoyable. They’re nothing more than practice matches to collect data and get ready for when you’ll go against the school for real—but when people from your school travel such a long distance to watch you play not even a game but a scrimmage, it feels like you owe it to them to bring home a win, to succeed, to make the match worth their while.

And while Satan doubtlessly had no intentions of adding to your stress when he asked to watch you play at today's scrimmage, that’s exactly what has happened.

“Listen, girls,” your voice is low as your team groups up in what will likely be the last huddle of the match. “I want us to win this. Really badly. Do what it takes, but bring home that victory.” You take a moment to recite the weaknesses of the other team, trying to downplay their skill and build confidence in your own teammates, but ultimately, you all know the truth. “It all comes down to how we play this point, girls, so let’s play our best.”

You glance around at your teammates, stealing a glance at the bleachers where Satan sits, watching the scrimmage.

You want to make him proud.

“Wolves on three: one, two, three—”

“Wolves!” your teammates echo, raising their fists as the lot of you split off into your serve receive positions.

As it stands, match point is weighing against you, and your team is at a heavy disadvantage. From what you’ve gathered on the opposing team, their libero is a literal legend when it comes to front row saves, and they have an amazing right-side hitter, one that easily rivals your own skill. This entire game, their team has been leading, but all your team needs to secure victory is a measly three points, three points that you know you can obtain if you try hard enough.

You crouch low, getting ready for the opposing team’s serve.

The first two points are easy for your team to get: the first point comes when the opposing team’s outside hitter rams the ball into the net, and the second comes when your team's right-side hitter manages a clean hit through a line of defense that jumped a second too late.

The final point, as always, is the hardest to get.

It just so happens that it’s your serve, so you consciously aim at what you think is the weakest link in the opposing team, but they’re able to recover. From then on, it’s an intense volley back and forth until it’s just you versus the right-side hitter, #18, the two of you fighting it out in a rhythmic contest of pass-set-hit that just won’t end.

It’s at this time that you feel the pressure beating down on you heavier than ever before. More than anything, you want to win. Not just because you’re naturally competitive, not just because you really fucking hate #18 right now (seriously, what business does she have being as good as you?), but because you know that Satan is watching.

You really, really, really want to bring home a win for him.

It’s to this thought that you set the ball over on the first touch, sabotaging the flow of the game and ruining the other team’s momentum.

It happens in slow motion as the ball falls, slowly, slowly.

The entire room seems to hold its breath as three girls on the opposing team, #18 included, all pancake-dive for the ball. Sensing their success, you bend your knees, preparing for the ball’s return.

It never comes.

The blow of the ref’s whistle is surreal, almost as faraway as the subsequent cheers of your own team, so empty and distant as they instantly group up for a team tackle—but for the first time, you don’t join them.

Instead, you’re left staring up at Satan who, from his spot on the bleachers, is grinning down at you with a proud look on his face.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy to win a scrimmage.

Everything else passes by in a blur. Your team regroups and changes out of your uniforms, and the lot of you board the bus that’s set to bring you back to the Royal Academy of Barbatos.

You, however, stay back.

“I’ll get a ride from my tutor,” you tell your coach, bidding farewell to your friends.

The man arches an eyebrow at you, asking once and then twice if you’re certain you don’t want to stay with the team, but you nod your head.

Weird, you think as you go to find Satan, who’s waiting for you at his car. This must be the first time I’ve prioritized someone else over the team.

You decide not to dwell on that thought.

Instead, you choose to think about how sick Satan’s ride is.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, gawking as soon as you see the car. “Satan, I knew you were loaded, but I had no clue you were this loaded.”

Satan laughs at your reaction, grinning when you can do nothing but stand and stare at the sheer beauty of it: a slick, black Bugatti with a single green stripe down the middle.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” you coo, marveling at the interior when you slide into the passenger seat and slug your volleyball bag unceremoniously in the back. “Satan, I think I like this car better than I like you.”

The blonde gives a short laugh, rolling his eyes as he gets inside next to you. “I’ll let you drive it someday,” he offers.

You’re quick to decline, shuddering to think about how many more sports scholarships you’d need to ever pay such a thing off if you were to crash it.

Satan can only smile at that, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t hear.

“Your match was amazing, by the way,” he says before you can probe him about what he said. “It looked really intense. It’s impressive that you were able to keep a level head even at the end.”

You don’t tell Satan that your head wasn’t level, that you were practically dizzy with fear from the possibility of losing in front of him.

“It comes with practice,” you instead choose to say. “Something we’ve gotta do tonight!”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

You shoot Satan an innocent smile in response.

“Your match lasted a good hour, and I saw you practicing with your team before your bus left.” Satan shakes his head, a frown beginning to spread across his lips. “You’re going to destroy your muscles if you try to do any more. Even you need to rest.”

“Yeah, but resting is boring.” You lean back in your seat and stare at your palms. “Besides, that scrimmage was way too close for comfort. Didn’t you see number eighteen? She was, like, really good. If both our teams make it to the state tournament, we’re going to have a lot of trouble dealing with her unless we practice like crazy until then.”

“Exactly,” Satan says. “Your team needs to practice, not you. The best thing you can do for them is relax and make sure you don’t overexert yourself.”

“But don't you want to reward me for getting a good grade on my Shakespeare test?” A smile curls onto your lips because you know that's something Satan has been thinking about. “Come on, just a few balls? It’ll be quick, I promise. I just want to try a few moves out.”

Satan lets out an exasperated sigh that lets you know he’s agreeing.

“Yes!” You exclaim, resisting the urge to jump out of your seat and hug him because he probably won't be as inclined to help you if you make him crash his car. “Thank you so much, Satan! I won’t be long, I promise!”

The blonde doesn’t say anything to that, sighing softly as he switches his destination from the student parking lot to the on-campus gym you usually conduct your practice sessions in. It takes a while, but when the two of you get there, the spot Satan pulls into is far from the doors. It's a necessity since all the other spots are taken, but it makes you raise an eyebrow because this is the first time you’ve seen this gym even remotely filled up.

You nudge Satan out of his car regardless.

“Alright, so today I want you to make my tosses higher than normal. Number eighteen was taller than me, so I’ll need to increase my jump height if I want to be able to break past her defense.” You pull him to the door, wasting no time to get inside. “And don’t worry if your tosses aren’t perfect! It’ll be good practice for...for when…”

Your train of thought is disrupted when you see how packed the gym is.

“Damn,” Satan mumbles next to you, frowning.

There must be some kind of athletic event coming up. That's the only explanation you can think of for the picture in front of you. As it stands, there are tons of students inside this gym, everyone practicing their own sport. It’s ridiculous, honestly, because even sports that are traditionally outdoors are practicing inside. You can see Solomon leading his soccer team through a few drills on the far side of the court, taking up one half of one of the six nets set up in the gym.

“They must be here because it’s so muddy outside. All the outdoor sports are practicing inside.” Satan crosses his arms. “Let’s come back tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to get an effective practice in.”

“No!” you immediately exclaim, if only because you see a group of people setting up to leave. “Look, we can take that side of the court. Let’s go! I don’t want someone else to get there first.”

It’s a bit harder to find a spare cart of volleyballs than it was to find a spot to practice, but after checking enough supply rooms, you finally find what you’re looking for. After that, it takes you all of two minutes to wheel the cart over to Satan where you present your findings to him proudly.

“Shouldn’t you stretch first?” He frowns. “I don’t want you to get injured.”

“Come on, Satan. I just came back from a match! My muscles are all loosened up, so let’s get straight into it! The faster we can get this done, the faster we can return to the dorm, so let’s hurry!”

The boy doesn’t look wholly convinced, but he acquiesces to your request nonetheless, throwing you a toss higher than usual as you jump to slam it down.

It’s only once the two of you have returned to your usual rhythm that you begin to feel the stretch in your thighs, and for a moment, you stop to consider the fact that it might have been better if you’d stretched after all, but you ultimately decide that you’ve already started so there’s no point in stopping.

The practice whizzes by, as usual. It's almost pitiful how quickly the end of it nears.

“Three more balls,” Satan says, glancing at the number of balls left in the cart. “Then we go back, alright?”

“Sure thing!” you exclaim with pride, the familiar sense of satisfaction after a practice session well-done setting in.

Satan tosses you the third-last ball, and your feet begin following it as soon as it leaves his fingers. Your feet follow a familiar pattern—left, right, left, jump!—and you force yourself to put in a little bit of extra power to increase the height of your jump, letting your palm collide with the ball just a few inches beneath the peak of the arc to let it slam onto the court at an angle so steep that even a reinforced defense wouldn’t have been able to save it.

“Perfect!” you shout the moment your feet land on the floor. “Two more like that, and we’re set!”

Even Satan can’t hold off a smile at that.

Already in-tune with you, he doesn’t bother asking if you’re ready before throwing the next ball into the air.

Again, you go through the motions that have been ingrained into your muscle memory since you were eight years old. The sting of pain against your palm is familiar, too familiar, and you’re still high in your jump when the ball spikes down onto the floor.

What isn’t familiar is the immediate calls of concern from across the court.

Everything seems to happen in slow motion.

You turn your head to the source of the noise, the loud group of soccer players who are on the far side of the gym and are all shouting to watch out. You stare at them in confusion for a moment, squinting to look for what they're all pointing at, because right now you don’t see anything to watch out for, and why—

Your eyebrows furrow.

Why are they all looking at you?

That thought is the only warning you get before your feet land—and the first thing you realize is that you landed way too early, that you should have been in the air for longer given the height of your jump. That’s when you realize that you haven’t landed, that your foot is instead twisting on top of a soccer ball that’s rolled directly underneath you.

Your hands go out to catch yourself when you fall, but there’s nothing you can do about the swell of pain that bursts from your ankle when the soccer ball pops out from underneath you.

There’s a moment of trepidation, a single second where your body is completely suspended in the air, and the gym is silent.

In that quiet moment, you hear Satan call out your name in a terrified voice.

Then, the ground collides with you and hard, and there’s nothing you can do as the pain you’d been feeling earlier blossoms out from all parts of your body.

MASTERLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎

Word count: 4.2k

Notes: ive returneddd :D this chapter is dedicated to the vball captain who, in my freshman year of high school, injured herself. her injury was more dramatic, given that it was way more severe and it was during an important match, but irene, i carry you in my heart <3

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

#Word count: 4.2k #obey me! shall we date?#satan x reader #obey me satan #obey me solomon #reader has personality #volleyball athlete reader #slice of life #friendship #friends to best friends to lovers #human au #high school au #college au #slow burn #extremely slow slow burn #requited feelings #crushes #gonna be *wholesome*#mild swearing

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sjw-publishings · 4 years

Text

A Shift In Attractions

Jace was crushed, after asking his asian friend for a date. Only to be told a lengthy description on why he should change his ways and set himself straight, before leaving off to some random asian chick who he never recalled seeing him with.

Though then again, the asian man was just a crush right? Crushes get crushed he supposed. Though he thought they had something, unlike those one night stands in private...

Maybe if they had bonded more in class than just mere classmates, he could have stood a chance...?

“No no...”

Shaking his head, he doubted it, the guy seemed completely dedicated to his girlfriend. He always recalled him proclaiming ‘Praise the lord to our relationship’ as he kissed his girl. No wonder he accentuated on the word ‘Straight’.

He never felt more insulted. Tugging his dress shirt, the tall lean college senior scoffed. Yes he was a valedictorian, and he stood out, but that did not give the right for this christian hottie to just diss him off like that.

He was being polite and civil too. All he wanted was to graduate with honours and have a lovely boyfriend.

He wished that he could have fallen for someone else...a shift in attractions-

“Hey man! Would you like to join us for prayer time?”

A tanned asian man in a checkered shirt and khakis interrupted his train of thought...and boy, was he cute. Down to the mannerisms and attitude...darn, he reminded quite a bit of his crush.

Without speaking, the tanned man grabbed hold and brought him down the alley way, where soft tunes filled in the atmosphere, as a group of men were seated in the middle.

“Welcome brother, I’m Paul Heng. So glad of you to join us.”

Ushering him down next to the man, he blushed wildly as he could. If anything, he literally drooled at those thick biceps and pecs straining against that marine tank of his. Not to mention the cute innocence that he displayed beneath those messy bangs of his, despite the asian probably being around the same age of him.

“Would you like to share with us what seems to be the matter?” Paul Heng spoke.

He looked around, more than half of the men were asian, and his gaydar definitely sensed the rest are gay, coincidentally enough. Not as to say the asians are not gay...but this group in particular...

Whatever, maybe they are allies at the very least.

“Oh...There was this guy...and..”

“Say no more.”

Paul placed his palm over on his back, still retaining his smile as he closed his eyes, head down as he prayed.

“Father God, please work about a shift in attractions within this man.”

The music was cranked up louder, still peaceful but yet...a little too calming? Coupled by the warmness emitting from the asian’s palm...it just made him, want to tell everything...

Eyelids heavy, Jace watched as the others mirrored him and Paul. Each of them grinning as their eyelids closed shut.

“Tell us...what you desire.”

Paul spoke, as his palm radiated heat within his back. Soothing those tired knots, loosening them, giving vigour that he never had. Igniting new desires within him.

“I want...to be young and fresh.”

Those words escaped out of his mouth instantly, like a inner desire coming forth. Young and fresh? Didn’t he want to graduate from school? As a senior? But as the warm, radiating heat seared his skin...almost like a warm tan, it definitely showed otherwise.

Sophomore, yeah he did do sort of well in school...but that was not what he really wanted. Crushing on his role model who was older definitely did not do him any favours either...

Freshman...yes, that was exactly what he wanted, where he is. Completely new to everything, a blank slate, letting the warmth guide him in the...overly calming music being played in the background. Regressing to a man who just turned legal 18 a couple of months ago, of course.

This was the freshman’s orientation, he and the other newbies were assigned to be in this group. Sure it was odd why they were in a batch with more than half being Christian and asian, but who was he to judge?

He was young, and fresh.

“Indeed, and someone as young as yourself, is bound to have so much energy.”

Senior Paul’s palm radiated heat once again. Jam grinned wildly, as his back wanted to just carry tons of stuff cause of his energy. Legs unable to sit still as they shifted back and forth within the meditation position he was in.

“And with that energy, belongs to brothers who are athletic.”

Energy, athletics. It made sense didn’t it? His back, while much younger, gained a sizeable definition as they broadened with the heat. Embracing the care, and concern from his brotherly figure, as the tanning trailed forward with the suggestion.

His chest toughened, definitely not as crazy big like his seniors, but he did work out quite a bit! A Light trace of abdominals Pressing against his dress shirt, his pectorals inflating to a sizeable degree, with those ‘Tiny udders’ begging to be milked.

But wait, didn’t he had done ‘It’ before? But that did not make sense to the college freshman. He just turned legal months ago! No way was he into that kind of life.

Besides, it feels unethical to think of such thoughts with Christians. Pretty sure they rubbed off him...despite being...

“Amen brother?”

“Oofmm...”

Paul gave a gentle rub against his back, as he let out a soft, satisfied response like the other freshmen. He just...knew this freshman orientation helped them, eyes still remaining shut as it was still prayer time.

“Amen...”

He spoke calmly, though there were hints of joviality within them. Grinning, his vocal chords still shifting due to puberty, he sounded so cute, so young. But damn these clothes are so uncomfortable.

He was never the smartest guy in his class, or even mid way. Which was supposedly odd considering he was half asian. Preferring softer, younger clothes that are more trendy or just stuff that gave his muscles a little more breathing room.

Wincing, he felt his legs strain against his Dress pants, being too tight for the male altogether and just a chore. Why did he pick such nerdy subjects? Those stuff are for brainiacs and the gays!

Wait did he just say that? He was gay...though that insult felt appropriate to him. Like how gay it was for him to wear briefs and shoes two sizes bigger than he was. Did he let his mother dress him or something?

Man...he hoped that his youth leader would call him out on-

“With such a youthful appearance, one ought to dress like one.”

Thank Lord! Someone gets him. Grinning wildly, Paul’s warm synchronising with his own, as the tight fabric softened. Sleeves rolling up to just below his shoulders, clinging firmly on his back as buttons and the collar disappeared into the wind.

Colour darkening in cotton, as printed logos plastered itself on his brand new Youth Trends shirt he got with an iconic ‘ORH’. Giving his body the much needed breather room it so desired.

Why would he wear a dress shirt? Only DORKS wear those....and his pastors and sometimes his youth leader as well...BUT NOT HIM. He definitely pulled pranks, but not stuff like that!

Sides, if there was a prank, he would be doing the more hands on kind of approach. What was he? An academic nerd? Haha ok lol boomer. He launches erasers, paint balloons and all those kinds of stuff towards the nerds.

Serves them right for calling em’ gay!

His tanned asian arms flexed in response, as his expensive watch became cheaper with rubber straps. It was time for attention! And being young, he wanted all if it!

So much, that Paul had to always bring them down before they interrupted the prayer session. He was so cool, his big bro Paul Heng, allowing him to just be, HIM.

Dress pants shrunk upwards, concentrating with mesh fabric as they became grey sports shorts. The kind of stuff he always wore while on the field kicking balls, soccer balls DUH. What you think, huh?

Tightening below in two areas, shoes shrinking to a size 8, metallic indents growing at the bottom and a signature styled itself on both ends of the cleats. Whose signature, one of the pro asian athletes of course. Which one? HAHA, Why you want to know? Gay?

Gay? POKE! Thrusting forward, by only a small bit. His hard-on actually shrunk back a couple of centimetres, like his brain-LOL WHO YOU CALLIN’ DUMB, FAGGOT?

Ruder and ruder, thrusting as he so desperately wanted action, never experiencing it. Buttocks hardening but shrinking in size as well, compacting to the new Jockstrap with his 6 inch wiener, only when its-

“Any Hard thoughts? Benjam....”

Paul spoke, his hand still on his back. Yeah he was hard, though it would be pretty gay if he said he got hard cause of the prayer. Yeah he was a new christian, but still...

“Yeah man...I wanna...”

The Chinese Asian’s pubescent voice spoke out...to be honest, he was not sure what he wanted. He liked being a young jock, but the more he tried to think of...some random older asian, it felt really really off.

What was he? GAY? I mean he had...some gay thoughts, but what was he thought when he was a Christian for years? Be fruitful and multiply...and man, did that phrase cause his smaller crotch to just wanna skyrocket through late puberty already.

“A hot babe?”

“Oh yes! Yes!”

“Hot babes for us men!”

“Preach it pastor!”

A hot babe? Yes! Yes! That was what he wanted, what his group wanted. Total jocks abstaining since forever, but now that they are legal, man did he just want to get married already and let loose, fulfil the calling on his life.

“Oh man I wish...I wish..”

Benjam squeezed his thighs as tight as he could. Rubbing against his smaller member as every brush only excited him further. The prayer session was simply too much for him to handle on his own. He had to say it, he had to-

“Brothers, You know what to do to seal the deal. Lead the way, Brother Shang.”

Paul got up from his place, but the warmth never left Benjam Shang’s side, his big brother figure trusted him in doing this, in spite of his young and fresh attitude which just pissed some of the older folks.

Its time for the younger generation to play a part in THIS-

“WE ARE CHRISTIANS!”

He yelled, in his youthful splendour. Pumping his fist in the hair, eyes still closed.

“WE ARE CHRISTIANS!”

The rest of his soccer group followed in suit, he knew that cause of their fellowship together of course.

They had stuck together since young in church, a close group which stuck like brothers through thick and thin. Through church camps, hang outs, and even the boring examinations he could not care less about.

As for as he was concerned, he had spiritual wisdom. Better than those overly intelligent NERDS!

“WE ARE HOT!”

He proclaimed, of course they were. They were the most popular group throughout high school. All the ladies wanted a piece of them, and all the GAYS were jealous.

Provoked to jealousy. Smirking to himself, cheekbones rising and rosy. He was always such a prankster, just light hearted stuff, nothing too GAY of course.

Though he doubted it was anything too far like some other of the ‘HetTubers’ did. Hair follicles brushing to the side, hair bangs over his brow as a raven feathery guy next door kind of look stuck on him, short hair of course-he was into sports and chicks said he looked cute with this style.

He was a Christian after all. Jaw rounding out while sharpening at the edges, with lips beaming into a smile, flashing bright pearly whites. He still represented God and even though he was mean sometimes with his ‘zoomer speech’, as the pastors would describe it, but hey-he was young and fresh!

“AND WE ARE GOING TO HAVE WIVES!”

The men inhaled deeply, nostrils wrinkling. Man it reeked of testosterone...They loved each other like brothers, but jocks needed their cheerleaders, husbands needed their wives. Not the smell of sports cologne.

They wanted to finish quick. At the final phase, light eyebrows furrowing, anticipating the climax with an-

“AMEN!”

“AMEN BROTHER!”

The new Benjamin Shang proudly proclaimed the chant, like the rest of the men. Boisterous Voices blending in harmoniously as a choir. Claps from the seniors applauded from the background, Paul was definitely pleased with him.

Letting loose their vocal chords like they just ‘came’ to be, of course nothing came out from below. Those were reserved specially for their wives, which they knew will be coming soon.

Beady eyes opening simultaneously staring around innocently as a college freshman, fresh and ready to chase-

CLICK

Tail.

Almost instantaneously, his eyes were directed away from the group of men he was at. The rest of brothers followed as well, upon hearing the sound of high heels growing nearer. Laser focused on the single asian lady by the corridor.

“Look at her...she’s so pretty...”

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hinatas-sunshine · 4 years

Text

Request: It's 5:32 in the morning from where I am, so sorry for asking this early. How Kenma, Ushijama, and Tsukishima react to their s/o that just unintentionally roasting them, other people, and things? - @animmle

tiny a/n: thank you for the request! No matter how early or late I always appreciate them! 🤍 ~ this isn’t my best work but I couldn’t think of much :(

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Requests: Open!

✰ MASTERLIST ✰

☾ Tsukishima Kei ☾

• You knew walking into a relationship with him, let alone friendship, you had to have a thick skin

• What he didn’t know is how thick HIS skin had to be too

“I don’t know tsukishima maybe if you tried a little harder things would run smoother.”

• He knew you had no ill intentions though, especially by the way you kissed his nose and smiled at him

“Don’t kiss me it’s emba-“

“Finish that sentence. Do it. Finish that sentence.”

• Honestly you had to be the only person who tsukishima was intimidated by

“I’m not scared of you y/n.”

“I don’t expect you to be.”

“....Yeah why would I ever be scared of a small person. How silly of-“

“I’m not scared of you either, how could I be scared of a tall guy who doesn’t care about anything but music and school. Sounds nerdy to me.”

• You laughed lightly while he glared at you

“I’m only kidding!”

• Yeah he didn’t talk to you for a few hours after that-

• Your problems weren’t only with him though...no....

“Oh so the king is going ba-“

“Why are you roasting on kageyama? The boy can’t even talk to other people you think he cares what you think?”

• Tsukishima was cackling at this while Kageyama turned red in embarrassment

“Y-y/n you really just helped him and then k-killed him!”

“Huh?”

• Looking at Kageyama you automatically started apologizing

“I’m so sorry Kageyama! You’re amazing at volleyball, so it’s okay that maybe you prefer the game over the people! It’s not weird or anything!”

• As your boyfriend and Hinata’s cackling intensifies along with Kageyama’s red cheeks Daichi sighed pulling you away from the situation

• He doesn’t do anything to stop you from roasting other people and things he really just lets you continue

“I don’t know I don’t like this girl.”

“Why?”

“One time she told me she hated dogs. And if you hate dogs how are you even a tad bit trustworthy?”

“I’m right here?”

“Okay and I’ll say it again?”

• Now you were full on bickering with her 🙈

“You got yourself into that.”

“It’s not my fault she got all defensive.”

• when he confronted you about it-

“Y/n you have a big mouth.”

“I think it’s pretty normal sized if you ask me-“

• he laughed lightly watching you touch your pink lips and look confused

“No I mean, you offend people. And you don’t know when to stop.”

• You furrowed your eyebrows on confusion even more.

“Could you explain a little more?”

• Tsukishima sighed and sat with you on the floor next to your bed where you were studying, placing his face in the crook of your neck placing small innocent kisses on it

“I’ll explain another time.”

“Okay lazy bum.”

“See!”

“No I knew what I was saying.”

✰ Kenma Kozume ✰

• You’re terrible at keeping your comments to yourself and he knew this

• The thing is, he loved it.

• Was it ever too quiet for his liking there you were

“OH BROTHER, THIS PLACE STINKS.”

• Many people Kuroo thought it would’ve bothered him but the moment you say something it’s like he can’t help but smile

• It’s not that you were outgoing automatically, but you knew out of you and Kenma you had to be the talker and you knew this since you were younger

“Your hair is so long! I thought you were a girl..”

• Kenma hated you when you first met because of this

“But honestly you’d be prettier than half the girls here!”

• Yeah you were only making it worse

• But once he got over it, he saw you just had a big mouth and said whatever came to your mind

“I don’t know Kuroo, you sound very sus to me. I used to not trust you when we were younger.”

“What why?”

“You give off bad boy vibes, I guess In the end you were just a big nerd. What a plot twist in my opinion.”

• Kenma cackling while Kuroo tries to claim he is a bad boy

“It’s not a bad thing!”

“It’s not a good thing!”

• Kenma sees how honest you are and thinks everyone should have someone like you in their life

“Everyone needs a y/n in their life.”

“Really? That’s a first.”

• You laid your head on his lap while he smiled looking down at you, hair covering his face

“You have such a pretty face my love, you cat looking eyes top everything off.”

“I don’t have cat looking eyes?”

“Eh you do.”

• When he tried to confront you about how much you babble with no filter-

“Oh I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah, but if I didn’t say what I was actually thinking- that’s just as bad as lying. No?”

• Kenma stared at you for a second

“Babe, your brain. It’s amazing.”

“I like to think it’s pink and cute but okay.”

• Kuroo, Yaku and Yamamoto don’t get you but the moment you met Lev-

“So you’re like the opposite of Hinata?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re tall, can’t seem to want to learn to play the sport, and you come off as intimidating.”

“SHE THINKS IM INTIMIDATING.”

“No...no more like you come off as stupid.”

“Kenma :(“

• Yeah Lev is the only one who doesn’t get offended by you because he focuses on the wrong things

“You’re so lanky and tall.”

“Am I really that tall?”

“Yeah.”

• Kenma hates your interactions with Lev because he thinks they’re not funny

“Don’t talk to her Lev.”

“Why?! Me and y/n are best friends!”

“No you’re not.”

“We aren’t but we can be aquatinted!”

“That sounds so much cooler suck it Kenma.”

• Yeah You were the reason everyone found out how dumb Lev was

✰ Ushijima Wakatoshi ✰

• He likes to think you’re as unfiltered as him

• But he also thinks you’re too unfiltered and it’s not that you unintentionally roast people you kind of expose them

• He also definitely saves you when you’re about to say something

“I don’t know your skirt seems kinda unflat-“

• Like then, he cupped a hand over your mouth and dragged you away without a word

• And that’s how you knew if you were saying something offensive, your boyfriend would cup his hand over your mouth and drag you away.

“I don’t know Tendou, you have creepy eye-“

*smack*

• You pouted before looking at your boyfriend

“I wasn’t finished! But I think it’s bad ass! I’d be intimidated if I didn’t know you were a crackhead!”

• Tendou was definitely your best friend and he eggs you on to say stuff you shouldn’t

“What do you think about Ushijima’s spikes today hmmmm?”

“I couldn’t focus I was too busy looking at those beefy ar-“

“THE SPIKES Y/N THE SPIKES!”

“OH yeah I mean not as strong as usu-“

“How can I fix them?”

• Every now and then you knew when to speak up and when to not, when it comes to volleyball you don’t because you’re not a pro?

• You managed to catch yourself sometimes but then you turn into an even worse babbling mess

“Semi you remind me so much of Sugawara from Karasuno, that guy. Such a good setter- NOT THAT YOU ARENT A GREAT PLAYER TOO! You’re an amazing player!-“

“Y/n I get it.”

• Ushijima gets entertained when you babble, he’s never seen anyone think as fast as you do in situations like this.

• He doesn’t ever think to confront you, mainly because he thinks it’s a cute quirk of yours and finds it somewhat entertaining

“Goshiki reminds me so much of Rock Lee. I can’t be the only one who sees it?”

• Tendou had a field day with this statement and Goshiki just didn’t know who Rock Lee was

“GOSHIKI IN A WHINEY VOICE SAY GAI SENSEI!”

• Ushijima just watches-

“No I asked Ushijima out and he turned so red I swear-“

“That’s enough talking.”

• He cupped his hand over your mouth and dragged you out while you waved bye 🧚🏻‍♀️✨

• You often almost exposed your boyfriend

“He sleeps with a volleyball night ligh-“

“He always asks me to pick out the pickles in his-“

“He hates when I hug a pillow instead of h-“

“He seems superior here but when it’s us it-“

• This is when Tendou and Semi rise and snatch you from him

“What were you saying y/n?”

“Yeah finish what you were saying about Wakatoshi~”

“Oh yeah!”

“No.”

• And there your boyfriend stood ready to take you away when-

“Ushijima has a bunch of you guys’ pictures framed! It’s really sweet!”

“Oh really?”

“Wakatoshi that’s so sweet!”

• You smiled at your boyfriend who looked at you and sighed

“You’re a hassle.”

“What how?”

“Y/n is an angel Wakatoshi!”

“Thank you Tendou.”

“I never said she wasn’t an angel, just a hassle.”

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danielcooperrp · 3 years

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We Two Boys Together Clinging

Halfway through 19th Century American Poetry and Drew has a sensation with which he is all too familiar: eyes boring into the back of head. It doesn't matter how many times he's been gawked at in a restaurant or in the allergy aisle of CVS (hay fever is a bitch), the feeling of the little hairs on the back of his neck standing up never fails to make him want to slink into a hole and die. He tries to ignore it, tries to focus all of his attention on the professor, who is droning on about the difference between various editions of Leaves of Grass, but that only lasts so long. Eventually, he caves, and he turns to look.

He's not shocked when the dark eyes watching him quickly dart away—people are often abashed when they get caught staring—but it is a surprise when, a few moments later, they return to meet his. The face they belong to is handsome, warm, dark skin, a strong jaw, a slightly crooked nose that suggests some kind of trouble, and—oh. Two rows of perfect white teeth that he sees now because the face is grinning at him, an inviting, dangerous grin, and now Drew's the one looking away, his own cheeks glowing red. His eyes burn holes in his notebook—he hasn't written a word in so long, he'll have to research this edition issue on his own later—and the other guy's eyes burn holes in his skull.

Why is he looking at him like that? Drew hasn't said a thing all class, not that any of them would be able to get a word in edgewise. His eyes dart down to check his outfit; a little schnerdy, sure, but nothing that stands out in a Harvard classroom. He risks it again; a quick look back, and that smile is still waiting for him, this time a little softer, like he's happy he keeps getting caught.

By the time class ends, Drew is a sweaty mess. He has no idea what the professor said for the last half of that lecture, but he's not going to stick around to ask. He tosses his notebook and his copy of Whitman into his satchel and slides into the mass exodus from the room. He lets himself be carried toward the building exit by the river of hungry undergrads, hoping that he avoids whatever situation was brewing behind him in class, but the river comes to a screeching halt when everyone notices that it's pouring buckets outside. Those smart enough to plan ahead whip out their umbrellas and leave, and some who don't have any other choice lower their heads and shoulders as though preparing to take a charging bull head on and foray bravely into the downpour.

Drew doesn't have another class for forty-five minutes, and even though he was planning on getting lunch in the interim, he really doesn't want to get this sweater wet, so he decides to duck into an alcove and wait it out. He pulls out his phone, Googles the information he thinks he missed in class, and is halfway through an Encyclopedia Britannica article when someone clears their throat. He looks up and blinks owlishly. It's the teeth.

"Hi," the teeth say. "I'm Xander."

Drew stares. He doesn't know what to do with this information. During the rare instances someone deigns to talk to him, an introduction like "I'm Xander" is almost always followed by a request like "Can I get an picture?" or "Do you know where the bathroom is?", depending on if he's been recognized or not. But this...this is just warm brown eyes and a big shiny smile that he doesn't know what to with.

"Drew Cooper," he eventually blurts out, remembering that he is in fact a human person with a name. "Um. Hi."

Xander leans casually against the wall adjacent to Drew, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight over the bulk of his arms as he crosses them over his very muscular chest. "You know, I really liked what you had to say last week about the em dashes in Emily Dickinson's poems. How they're meant to give you space to breath but really end up making you feel breathless. Professor didn't know what do with that, but...I liked it."

What is happening what is happening what is hap— Drew swallows thickly. "Oh. Thanks. I, uh, visited the house in Amherst a lot growing up. School field trips, family weekends...I'm...familiar with her work."

Xander nods toward the corner of Leaves of Grass sticking out of Drew's satchel. "What about Whitman? He a favorite too?"

Drew shrugs. "Sure. Mostly 'Song of Myself' and 'Drum-Taps,' but generally...yeah, his language is...unparalleled." Drew pauses, unsure, and then continues. "Reading Whitman always reminds me that I need to look around more. That everything is beautiful if I let it be."

The smile grows bigger. "I really like the way you talk about poetry, Drew Cooper." Xander reaches into the JanSport he's got slung over one shoulder and pulls out an umbrella. "Want to talk about it over lunch?"

—————

It’s not until their third post-poetry class lunch that Drew finds out something interesting about his new friend. “Wait...you’re on the football team?”

Xander laughs, a loud, warm sound that makes Drew feel like he’s part of the joke instead of the butt of it. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on the football team.” Drew makes a face. “What?”

“Well...don’t take this the wrong way, but...” Drew swirls his spoon in his cup of clam chowder. “...is Harvard’s team any good?”

This earns a longer, louder laugh from Xander, who takes a bite of his grilled chicken when he’s done. “In the grand scheme of things? No. We go up against Auburn or Clemson and we’re getting our asses kicked, no questions asked. But against the teams we actually play? We’re not half-bad.”

“So what position do you play?”

“Tight end.”

“Oh, I know that one. That’s...an important one.”

Xander suppresses the laugh this time. “It’s okay, Cooper. You don’t have to pretend to like football.”

Drew scrunches his nose. “I’m sorry. I come from a sports family. My dad and my older sister, in particular, they’ll talk for hours about football or baseball or hockey...it all goes over my head.”

With a shrug, Xander says, “Well, you’ve got enough good stuff going on in that head. No need to waste brain space on stuff that doesn’t matter.”

Drew feels himself starting to flush, so he quickly tries to shift the focus. “Well what about you? If football doesn’t matter, why risk CTE for it?”

“Scholarships, Cooper! You think Harvard pays for itself? I got in on test scores, but test scores don’t get you out of loans. Football does.”

And doesn’t that make Drew feel so silly. He knows how unbelievably lucky he is, that he had every semester of higher education he could ever want at whatever university would take him paid for before he was even born. If he had the mind to, he could keep taking classes at Harvard or Yale or Oxford until he died and he’d never have to think about the cost. Xander actually has to work for his education, and Drew feels like a little kid in comparison.

—————

They’ve been in a little back corner of Lamont Library for a few hours now, bent over their respective texts as they work on assignments for different classes. Drew’s nose-deep in an anthology of Helen Hunt Jackson, while Xander’s scribbling away at equations for one of his insanely complicated math classes. They work in comfortable silence, and every once in a while Drew wonder how strange it is, the easy way they spend their days together.

At one point, Xander throws down his pencil in disgust. “That’s it. Cooper, I’m dropping out.”

Drew makes a face. “You’re not dropping out, Xander.”

“I am. No economics degree is worth this.” He gestures vaguely to his chicken-scratch math homework.

“I mean, you’re not going to hear an argument from me, the guy studying History and Literature.” Drew peeks at the equations. “Would it help if you explained it to me?”

Xander furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...my sisters always head more of a head for the STEM subjects, while I’ve always been better at...” He waves a hand over his poetry book. “...softer stuff. But when I was a kid, my dad, who’s, like, an insane science nerd to the max, would tell me to pretend that I was the science teacher and I had to teach him the homework. It really helped. Explaining out loud, going over each problem piece by piece, helped me understand it better.” He flushes. “It’s just a thought, though. You don’t have to...”

“On one condition.” Xander smirks. “You have to tell me all of your thoughts on Thoreau afterward.”

Drew can’t fight his grin. “Deal.”

—————

Drew’s schedule is light on Tuesdays, so he’s back in the apartment he shares with Aidan, about halfway between Harvard and MIT’s campuses. She’s here, too, ditching a class she claims is “beneath the mathematical sensibilities of a first-grader.” She and some friend Drew is sure he should know the name of are on their little balcony, sipping wine coolers and people-watching while Drew reads for his early Wednesday class. Mostly, really, he’s listening to them gossip.

“See her?”

“Blond ponytail?”

“No, by the crosswalk, with the dog. Don’t tell her you have a fake ID, she’ll narc on you in a heartbeat.”

“Get out!”

“Dead serious. Freshman down the hall got busted because of her.”

“What a bitch. Over there, those two: dating or siblings?”

“They’re practically identical, so I’m hoping siblings....Oh god, please let me be wrong...”

“Who’s that?”

“Where?”

“Coming down the sidewalk here.”

“He’s hot, whoever he is.”

“I’ll say.”

“Wait...why does he look familiar....”

“Wasn’t he at that party two weekends ago? The one on Banks Street?”

“Oh my god, that’s it, he’s on the Harvard football team!”

Drew’s head snaps up.

“Tell you what, he could score a touchdown any day. Look at those arms...Drew?”

Drew scrambles off of the couch and flings himself onto the balcony. Aidan gives him a wild look. “What the hell?”

Peering over the edge, Drew spies Xander just as he gets to the front door of their building. He doesn’t need to use the buzzer, because someone’s coming out. “Oh.”

“Drew?”

Ignoring his sister, Drew rushes back to the couch, where he grabs all of his books and notebooks and tosses them into his backpack. Then he races into his bedroom to grab shoes. “I, uh, have to go! Study thing!”

Aidan looks down to the street and back to her panicked twin. “Drew...are you friends with a football player?”

“No!” Drew squeaks. “Yes! I mean, yes, we are friends. We have a class together. I have to go!”

Aidan squints in suspicion as Drew charges out the door. When it slams shut behind him, her friend says, “Does he know his sweater is on backward?”

Aidan shrugs. “Not my business.”

—————

“Why do you hang out with me?”

It’s a hazy October afternoon, and Drew and Xander are hanging out in Flagstaff Park, studying. People call out to Xander as they walk by, and Xander gives them a friendly wave or a “Hey man!” but makes no move to get up and socialize. Drew knows he’s quiet, not the best conversationalist in the world, so he wonders.

“What do you mean?” Xander looks at him like he always does, like Drew is about to say something absolutely revelatory.

“I mean...shouldn’t you be hanging out with the rest of the football team? Is that what you’re supposed to do?”

Xander seems amused. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“No,” Drew answers too quickly. “I just...I don’t know. I’ve never had someone spend so much time with me who wasn’t a blood relative, that’s all. And it seems like you have a lot of friends so...I don’t know...forget it...” Embarrassed, he turns back to his history textbook.

A wide hand, fingers splayed, plops down over the pages, and Drew looks up to see Xander rolling his eyes. “I hang out with you so much, Cooper, because I like spending time with you, and also, I’m hoping that if I earn enough goodwill you’ll let me take you out to dinner at some point.”

Drew freezes. “I—what?”

“I mean, if you’re not into me, that’s fine. I’m a big boy, I can handle it. But the thing is, I think you are into me, which is great, because I’m into you too, but I don’t mind biding my time until you’re ready.”

Every single neuron in Drew’s brain is misfiring. “You’re—into me?”

“Man got himself into Harvard just to outshine the professors and he still can’t read what’s right in front of him.” Xander sighs. “Yes, Cooper, I am into you, and would like to start seeing you socially in a romantic capacity.”

“But...you’re on the football team!”

“I—what?” Drew just gapes at him. “Cooper...” Xander starts to laugh, slow at first, and then harder.

“Wait, why are you laughing at me?”

“It’s just...really refreshing to talk to someone as woefully out of touch as you are.”

“Hey!”

“Cooper, I dated a guy on the swim team for like two months last year. My being gay is...not news. To anyone.”

“Apparently not my sister,” Drew grumbles.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Drew shakes his head. Nothing is making sense. “Do you know...who I am?”

“...We’ve met, yeah.”

“No, I mean...my family.”

“Oh.” Xander shrugs. “Yeah. Did some light Googling. I mean, c’mon, a white boy as quiet and smart as you? I had to be sure you weren’t secretly a neo-Nazi or some shit.”

“I’m Jewish,” Drew mumbles, “but that’s not the point. You know...who I’m related to.”

“Yeah. Am I supposed to care?” Xander reaches out and takes Drew’s hand, interlaces their fingers together. Drew’s heart is pounding so hard in his ears he can barely hear Xander speak. “Cooper, I am an economics major. I don’t want to date you because your grandpa was a billionaire. I want to date you in spite of the fact that your grandpa was a billionaire.”

Drew chokes out a laugh. “Fair enough.”

“I mean, you’re cute and all, but don’t think I won’t eat you for sustenance when the class war starts.”

His laugh is louder this time. “Stop.”

“So what do you say?” A squeeze of the fingers, and a squeeze to his heart. “Drew Cooper, will you go on a date with me?”

Drew chews on his lip, and then he nods. “Yeah. Yeah I will.”

Then Xander grins his perfect white grin, and Drew knows he’s a goner.

#drabble #v1 #drew #xander #thenamesallison #i................spent hours on this #i did nothing today #where did this even come from wtf

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everygame · 4 years

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Blaseball (Web)

Developed/Published by: The Game Band Released: 20/07/2020 Completed: n/a Completion: Maxed everything in the shop. Trophies / Achievements: n/a

Alright, if you’re here there are two options:

You already love Blaseball and just like reading about it.

You have no idea why people are obsessed with Blaseball.

Now, in the grand tradition of my article on Cinco Paus, because it turns out this tumblr shouldn’t just be about me finishing games and then complaining about how they failed me, I present:

Blaseball or: How You Learn To Stop Hating The Fact The Canadian Team Is Called The “Moist Talkers” And Love A Game That’s Usually Sold As A Communal Storytelling Experience (As Wank As That Sounds)

There’s a challenge here. Blaseball, once you’re in, makes you want to immediately gush about the cool things that are happening in the game, to tell the story of it, but unless you’re definitely tuned in to it, I think it can be somewhat alienating. Like here’s what I want to say, right?

That after the Raptors went out of the NBA playoffs I stopped caring (this is not entirely true; I stopped after the Nuggets put the Clippers out because spite/the lols) and was kind of looking for something else to obsess over in a not-too-active fashion. You see, what kind of got me into sports, as much as learning to enjoy the actual games, is the… theorycrafting? I might be using the term wrong. But it’s looking at the schedules and thinking, “ok, if they beat them, then they’re here, but if they get beat, then they might struggle there” or “trading X player for Y would be the best move… will we do it? Can we do it?”

It’s part of the reason why this year’s NBA bubble was such a success--they created a play-in situation for a group of teams on the edge of the playoffs, and then even though I don’t really care about any of the teams involved, there was so much drama, and so many ways for things to go, that you could spend ages just thinking about how X thing had to happen for Y thing to occur and then get excited if it happened or have to recalculate.

So: Blaseball. It is, ostensibly, a game in which you gamble on baseball blaseball games. I mean for the most part, I will be clear with you, that is it. It’s a game where you make bets and use your winnings to increase your ability to make bigger bets. It’s not even a particularly effortful example of this. There’s no clicker mechanics outside of one involving peanuts that turned out not to do anything, and all games are pretty clearly given odds so you can mostly fire and forget.

However. The thing you have to do with blaseball is actually the thing I have to do with a sport: pick a team and care. It’s not a baseball blaseball betting sim. It’s a sport fan experience. I say experience, not sim, because you will not be pretending to be a fan. You will be a fan, and if it’s for a made up team, who cares?

I think for a lot of people (the kind of nerds who play this kind of game) that’s a novel experience and I think that for people like me (who like sports) there’s an immediate sense that people are being ironic. You know; “blaseball” doesn’t feel that far from saying “sportsball” and I can’t guarantee that a lot of folk aren’t enjoying it… wrong. But then I also feel like people enjoy actual sports wrong so fuck it (I’d just warn you that if you go hard and join the discord--which is kind of necessary--you might find some people… annoying).

So you might think I’ve just described a few things at cross purposes there: I said you’ve got to be a fan for this to work, but then I also said that the NBA bubble succeeded because it made me care about teams I didn’t care about because of theorycrafting. Well, not exactly: what I’m saying is that in this game you’re going to need one (the ability to be a fan) to make the other pop.

I’m lucky here, because I’m Canadian (among other things) immediately and violently defending the one Canadian team in the thing is instant. I don’t need to put any effort in. I’ve never been the kind of guy who could just pick any team because I like the look of them, maybe you are or maybe you’re actually going to have to live in Charleston to want to support the Shoe Thieves, but let me say: if you are not American, the only correct decision is to support the Moist Talkers despite their terrible name (that I have come to terms with.)

Anyway, now I’ve given you the background, let me explain what happened last season to my team.

During a game, an legendary undead pitcher swapped places with our worst pitcher before, in another game, swapping places with a dog who used to be owned by one of our previous players. Then our fans started a campaign to make sure our best pitcher, who was trapped inside a peanut, would be idolised enough that they’d meet the “Monitor” a huge squid god, which most people assumed would kill them. At the end of the season, the squid cracked open our pitcher’s peanut shell, chose not to eat them and as a result saved them from the end of the post-season, where a vengeful peanut god turned all the players trapped in peanut shells (or, uh, who had Peanut in their name) into an evil team who then played the season champions in a RPG battle-style blaseball game (with hit points and everything) and cursed them. Then, at the end of the season blessings were handed out and thanks to having our best pitcher and receiving and absurd four blessings (including one which increased the size of one of our batters and one that gave a player a fishing net) we were suddenly one of the best teams in the league… with the danger that we might actually win the next season and be forced to fight the peanut god.

Now, as I said above, there’s a fair chance that seemed like absolute drivel to you. And even if it is exciting, I think the most important thing to do is to scroll back up and look at the screenshots and remember that the game doesn’t really have any graphics. Blaseball games occur in a tiny window with a diamond graphic, and so it’s a bit like watching just the corner of the screen in a baseball game. It is not particularly entertaining to watch games (although you can learn how to be captivated by it anyway). The game also, despite not being anything, can take up a massive amount of mental real-estate because you’re going to be checking in on it every hour of almost every day even though all you’re doing each time is clicking ten things and checking scores. It’s probably much too much, and it gets worse when you start to engage with the discord, because as a fan you really have to co-ordinate how to vote for blessings to make sure your team is always improving and you’re raising money for a good reason.

Alright, by this point it’s almost sounding like I’m trying to talk you out of getting into it, and I *do* recommend you don’t sicken yourself of it too quickly by checking it all the time. But most importantly I sort of glossed over what the genius aspect of Blaseball is: that being a fan has a weird, roundabout effect on how well your team does, and that reflects the fact that being a sports fan is not passive. When you watch a game you’re somehow putting everything into it even though you can’t affect anything. It’s why you spend all that time theorycrafting. Here, you, as a group, pool the votes you’ve spent all week raising money for and try and make your team what you want it to be. You don’t get to change what’s going on in a game like it’s Twitch Plays Baseball, or something. That wouldn’t be a fan. In Blaseball, instead, what you do is you try and make your dreams real via collective wishing. It’s only the slightest step up from just being a fan of a real team, and it gets to the heart of the communal experience of being a fan.

If I was the NBA, the NFL or very specifically the MLB I would 100% be looking at Blaseball and how to learn from it. I think there’s a crass version of it--imagine fans of teams in the NBA bubble could have voted to like… make sure their team got the nicest hotel rooms, or nicer meals or something--but giving fans a way to boost their team (outside of the brute force of their psychic power in a home game) by, I don’t know, checking into an app or otherwise engaging is a truly interesting (and honestly kind of disturbing, for people who hate the implications for tracking) concept.

Anyway. Try Blaseball! Pick a team, bet based on the odds, invest in snake oil, idol the best pitcher every game you check, but don’t check too much (and invest in the pitcher pendants, once you’re maxed buy votes and join the discord to find out what your team is voting for/get involved in the conversation. That’s it. But it’s pretty cool.

Will I ever play it again? I mean, it still feels a bit rich to say I’m playing this but I’m invested at least until the Moist Talkers win a season. Which could be this season. I’m really interested to see how much The Game Band expand this, too--I can think of a lot of ways that fans/players can be ever more empowered, but I’m interested in how carefully they could destroy the balance, and so many ways this could simply be more entertaining to look at and engage with (I mean the fact that you have to go to external sites for things like future schedules is kind of wack imho.)

Final Thought: There’s a ton of other stuff people like about this game--making up stories about the players, who they are, drawing them--and the nice thing is I don’t give a flying fuck about any of that and I don’t really have to. You can completely ignore the wiki’s fanfiction if you like and just deal with the reality of the game and how you personally react to it. Or you can really get into it and care about it way more than what’s actually happening on the field. I don’t care, I’m not your dad.

Even if I did just spend a long time shouting at you about sports.

#video games #web #webgames #blaseball #the game band #review #games #gaming #text #txt

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coeurdastronaute · 5 years

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Either/Or: WWC 3

Previously on WWC

“Jess?”

“Yes, Ms. Luthor?”

At her desk, the CEO continued to look at her schedule, peering at it behind her glasses as she cocked her head and looked at the other window she had open. Outside, the summer was just beginning to turn, the heat radiating off of the buildings and shimmering in the city, hiding it behind a glaze. June was coming and it was going to be a brutal beginning to the season.

“There’s no way this can be right. I am not going to France for over a week.”

“Yes you are,” Jess nodded. “It says so on your schedule.”

“Why would I go to France?”

She tried to play it as cool as possible, but her assistant looked at her with completely understanding, and Lena knew she didn’t stand a chance. Maybe to the rest of the world, she was just doing her duty as owner to go to every game, but to the person that perhaps knew her best in the world, Lena was an open book and her assistant.

It’d been a few dates. A few amazing dates. And lots of phone calls when they travelled. And lots of dinners that were business related, surely. It’d been a few nights spent in each other’s beds. It’d been… it’d been… in truth, it’d been absolutely wonderful, and Lena loved dating Kara Danvers.

The captain of the team was a dream. She was funny and kind and interesting, and for some reason, despite being the sun, she liked being around, and that was huge to Lena. Kara was a morning person, she ate junk food, non stop, even though her trainers tried to keep her on the straight and narrow. She loved doing things. She made Lena experience the city in a completely different way, and her view of the world was almost contagious.

But Lena couldn’t go to France. They kept to themselves and no one knew, and that was something she also kind of enjoyed-- that Kara was her’s and her’s alone. She didn’t have to share her, at least in some way.

“Three players from your team are playing in the World Cup,” Jess explained. “It will look very good for the entire sport if you are there.”

“I have a lot of work to do.”

“You always have work to do, but that doesn’t have to stop you.”

“That’s a long time.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Ah, so that’s it?” Lena grinned and sat back in her chair as her assistant shrugged. “It’s just not a good time to take a week off.”

“Think about it.”

Before Lena could argue, her assistant placed a small box on her desk and urged her to open it. At first Lena wasn’t sure what it was, but then she saw the crest of the nation on the corner, and she turned it around to see Kara’s name and number, and she smiled to herself.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Mmm, you smell so good,” Lena moaned as she inhaled the smell of Kara’s neck deeply, her arms wrapping tighter around the soccer player in them.

“I missed you,” Kara confessed, squeezing the CEO back, tight as she could against herself. “Is that weird to say? It was a week.”

“A really long week.”

Stuck in the embrace, neither moved to really pull away, but rather enjoyed the closeness, enjoyed the anchoring of each other and the quiet that finally came since the last time they were together.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Kara asked as she pulled away only to be answered with a long kiss and sigh. “Or not?”

“There are much more intriguing things we can do,” Lena decided.

“There is a game on right now--”

Before she could finish, Lena interrupted Kara’s suggestion, rooting her hand in her shirt and in the hair at the base of her neck. Helplessly she tugged and told Kara her plan without ever saying a word. In just a few seconds, she was lifted, her legs wrapping naturally around hips. Hands held her ass and her skirt slid higher on her waist as legs spread.

“You are so beautiful,” Kara hummed as they landed on the bed. She pushed aside the mess of black hair that swept into Lena’s face.

“You’re a sweet talker, Danvers.”

“I just…”

Kara trailed her fingertip along the bridge of Lena’s eyebrows, along her cheek, the bridge of her nose, along her lips and jaw and chin. She took her time, eyes following the motion of her fingertips. Lena melted against it, sank into the bed as Kara laid atop her, a comfortable weight that held her to the ground.

“You are nice to come home to.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

Lena earned a smile, one of the soft ones that tugged Kara’s lips just enough, a true contentment. She shifted her hips and rubbed against her girlfriend’s thigh.

“Is this what you missed most?” Kara asked, a small growl to her voice as she shifted her thigh, pressing it harder, earning a muffled moan and a bit lip. “Not my pleasant conversational skills?”

“Kara,” she whined. A Luthor never whined, but Lena wasn’t entirely sure she was a Luthor that often anyway.

“I missed this too,” the soccer player promised. “I missed the way you are very needy and very un-put together. You’re always so composed, but not when I have you like this.”

Kara was a talker. She was deceptively confident when it came to sex, like she knew how good she was, and like she knew exactly when Lena needed. It was insanely frustrating and insanely hot. Th same girl who nervously fiddled with her beer, who nervously asked for a date, she was gone, and the same kind of focus that was seen on the field constantly, the same focus and skill, that was applied to the task at hand and that task was absolutely ruining Lena Luthor.

“You turn me into a teenager.”

“You too.”

Somehow the clothes disappeared. Lena hadn’t meant that to happen when she invited Kara over for dinner. But they both were home from their respective trips, and she’d toyed with the idea for the entire day before giving into wanting to see the soccer player. She hadn’t counted on Kara being just as eager to see her. Why would she ever think that?

“Is it weird to admit how much I’ve thought about you naked while I was away?” Kara murmured, her nose nudging Lena’s thigh before she hooked them over her shoulder.

There wasn’t time for an answer. Lena couldn’t form one as a tongue lapped her up in long, flat strokes, narrowly and deftly missing where she wanted it most. Instead, her hands went to Kara’s hair and tugged at it.

By the time they both tapped out, there weren’t any places open to order from. Lena chuckled to herself as er hand splayed over Kara’s stomach as it rumbled.

“Worked up an appetite?”

“I haven’t had a workout like that since camp.”

“I better feed you. How’s pizza?’

“Yes please.”

With a kiss on Kara’s neck, Lena pushed herself out of bed and grabbed her phone to order. Kara watched it all and flopped back into the giant, sex-shredded bed as a beautiful, lace-clad hips swung out of the room.

“I am going to open a bottle of wine,” Lena called from down the hall.

The tired of traveling home and the rather lengthy sex hung in her muscles, but Kara got up anyway with the promise of wine, pizza, and Lena Luthor’s legs. The past few months had been perfect, and Kara found herself enjoying all of those things exponentially more and more. So much so, that she very much wanted to ask Lena what it meant for them, to have the talk about relationships, to ask the questions, to see if they were going to be something more.

With a decided tug of a shirt over her head, Kara nodded and pulled up her hair, prepared for battle and to find her answer.

“I got everything but olives,” Lena informed Kara from her position at the counter.

Legs on display she dragged one against her calf with an itch absently as she poured the other glass and handed it over. Just ten minutes ago, Kara’s tongue had been inside her and that was enough to make her mouth water.

“Thank you.”

“You smell like sex,” Lena shook her head as Kara stood close, looking over her shoulder at the tablet she had on the counter. “You should shower.”

“We should shower.”

“Then we won’t get clean.”

“You weren’t complaining when I came by after practice that one time.”

“Well that was… that was something else entirely,” she waved her hand absently, swatting away the memory.

When Kara first debating dating Lena Luthor, she just knew her as a CEO, a powerful billionaire with a troubled family background. But she wasn’t just that. She wasn’t that entirely. She was a big nerd. She was smart, wickedly smart almost. Too witty for her own damn good. She had a sharp edge to her tongue if she was displeased, and she was short on faux compliments. But she was warm when she was comfortable. She was wry. She was bold. She was brave. She was an expensive glass of red, meant to be savored and meant to be appreciated for all her layers.

“How was your trip?”

“Long and arduous,” Lena sighed, turning off her tablet and turning in Kara’s arms. Pinned between strong hips and the counger, she didn’t really want to go anywhere else.

“But fruitful?”

“Very. I am the proud new owner of a large tech firm.”

“Wow,” Kara whistled. “That sure beats my trip.”

“I don’t know. Two goals aren’t so bad.”

“You followed the game?”

“I watched.”

Kara beamed and Lena shrugged, rolling her eyes at how happy it made the soccer player. She didn’t mean to admit it, but it just came out because she told Kara the truth, even without meaning to do it.

“What did you think?”

“I think I shouldn’t let you eat pizza,” she joked, pinching Kara’s side. “You looked slow out there.”

“Oh, did I?”

“You did. I expected a very big win. And 2-1 is not as impressive.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint, boss.”

“I just want to make sure we’re at the top of the table heading into the World Cup where we might drop a few games.”

Despite herself, Kara smiled as she took a sip of her wine and Lena freed herself, moving around the kitchen. She cleared her throat and tried to make the rising pink in her neck disappear.

“Speaking of the World Cup--” Kara began, steeling herself with another sip. “I’ll be leaving for a while.”

“I imagine the commute to France would be rough.”

“Have you… um… are you… would you be going?”

The buzzer rang before Lena could pay much attention to Kara’s words, and the soccer player sighed and shook her head before finishing her glass of wine as her-- her-- as Lena went to get the food.

“Dinner is served,” Lena smiled as she set the giant box on the counter. “If it’s after midnight is it breakfast? Either way.”

“It’s dinner until after four in the morning.”

“I can agree to that.”

Lena’s penthouse was large, with giant windows and the breathtaking views, with the new everything and pristine surfaces. A box of pizza seemed alarmingly out of place in the modern kitchen, but it was the most important part as they pair opened and began to eat without even grabbing plates.

“You’re going to miss this, in France,” the CEO teased, grinning as she took another bite. “The food there is amazing, but shitty, greasy pizza isn’t a specialty.”

“I won’t be eating anything fun,” Kara shook her head and nearly moaned as she covered her mouth and savored. “The diet and training gets kicked up in the next week, and then when I’m there, I’m on a very strict schedule.”

“Haven’t you already been on a strict and rather rough training schedule?”

“It can and will get worse.”

“Dating me probably hasn’t helped.”

“I’ve had my best season so far. I chalk it up to all the cardio you have me doing.”

“And lifting.”

“Yes, and lifting,” Kara blushed and took another piece.

“It feels so far away, but it’s coming up so soon.”

“The Cup?”

“Yeah.”

Lena moved only to refill their glasses of wine, carefully taking a bite of pizza crust as she topped them off.

“I think you’re just more aware of it than most because you have to listen to me complain about training for it,” Kara decided. “Something about dating a soccer player must get a little tedious.”

“Sometimes,” Lena grinned. “But when it does I just look at your abs.”

“Do you think all of those fancy genius scientists you hang out with know that you are just a superficial perv?” she asked, pointing her crust at the horny CEO.

“Just because I can appreciate the absolute wonderful wrapping on the gift that is you,” she explained, making her way around the counter, slipping into the lap of her favorite player. “Doesn’t mean I’m superficial. I quite like your mind,” she kissed Kara’s temple. “And your heart.”

“All that stuff?”

“All of it.”

“Not the muscles?”

“Just a perk.”

“Not the goals?”

“Something I’ll brag about one day.”

“One day?” Kara quirked an eyebrow.

“You know. Whenever we are… you know. More official.”

“More official?”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

“I just need a little clarification,” Kara furrowed, her hand landing on Lena’s hip to hold her there. “About more official.”

“Do we have to have this conversation at three in the morning over not half decent pizza?” Lena yawned.

“Well, no, but I mean… I don’t know what--”

“I just meant that when we’re… you know… not quiet… about--” Lena yawned again as she grew more uncomfortable. Slightly agitated she stood up and took a few steps. “When we’re not a secret.”

It took a few seconds for the word to register its true meaning to Kara, but when she did, she looked up and cocked her head, slightly confused by it all and how she went from asking if her girlfriend was going to support her at the biggest event of her life to realizing that perhaps she didn’t have a girlfriend to begin with.

“We’re a secret?”

“How many people have you told?”

“Well-- I-- Not because I didn’t-- I wasn’t sure what we were doing-- and I wanted-- you’re kind of my boss--”

“It’s complicated, and I know you get it.”

“It’s new and I was waiting for you,” Kara explained.

“Can’t it just be easy? Can’t we just keep… I don’t know,” Lena shrugged. “Can’t we keep getting to know each other before it gets harder?”

“It can be easy.”

“Can we talk about it more in the morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you let me take you to bed now, and not have my wicked way but rather tuck you in and give you the best damn night’s sleep you’ve ever had?”

Kara smiled despite herself because for some reason, Lena Luthor had that effect on her and it was absolutely infuriating, but disarming, at the same time. And a hand was held out, waiting for her to take it, and that hand was attached to a beautiful girl with messy hair and wine-red lips who, although it was exceedingly risky, was worth the gamble every time.

Because of the delay, Lena grew nervous as Kara debated before the small, hint of a smile tugged on her lips and she took the offered hand. It left her with a bit of hope that Kara would stay, even though Lena had no idea how she was going to have a personal life.

XXXXXXXXXX

They didn’t have the talk the following morning. They didn’t even have it the next time they got together for dinner. Kara didn’t know if she wanted to have it after she really thought about Lena’s honest words. It didn’t make sense for her not to be a secret. Lena was the leader of the largest company in the nation, and she had enough press, let alone that involving a girlfriend who happened to be the star of one of her most recent investments.

And all of that made Kara wonder how long she would allow herself to be a secret. In between training and the travelling and preparing for the World Cup, she allowed herself to think of things and allowed them to make sense. Her relationship was the best she’d ever had, and maybe it wasn’t worth ruining by thinking about it too much.

But things were normal with them. They had dinners and watched movies, and Kara would look up at the box to see the owner at home games. Lena gave naked massages to Kara after tough training sessions. Those were always lovely. And Kara showed up at L Corp a few times with snacks to make her girlfriend take a break. They were rarely seen in public together, but the spent as much time as possible near each other, even if that consisted of Kara watching plays while Lena draped her legs over her lap and read through notes on the couch.

They were honest and stable and healthy and Kara wasn’t sure why she still felt something lacking in the most fulfilling relationship ever. It didn’t make sense, and the more she tried to make herself satisfied, the more she dug into the psyche of realizing she was a secret.

“You’re packing very light,” Lena observed as she lounged on Kara’s mattress.

“I can buy anything I forget,” the soccer player muttered as she folded and stacked another shirt in her bag.

“Still, don’t you like your own stuff? I crave home when I’m away.”

“I’m fairly low maintenance. And I’ve heard that the Cup is going to breeze by so quickly that I won’t need much.”

“It won’t be a breeze for me.”

“You don’t have to play.”

“I have to watch and miss you,” she sighed. “While you are very focused on the games, I’ll be hearing about how wonderful you are.”

“You could come with me to France,” Kara offered, nonchalant and words out of her mouth before she could think of them. “I have enough room in my suitcase.”

“I tried to get my schedule changed, so I could come, but I just… I couldn’t.”

“You… you tried?”

“To see my girlfriend play and potentially win on the world stage?” Lena balked at the suggestion. “Of course I did. Jess actually tried last month. Moved my trip around to the West Coast, but then different things came up.”

“You tried?”

“Of course, Kara.”

Something warmed deep in her heart. She paused her folding as Lena continued to answer emails on her laptop.

“I can’t believe you tried.”

“Why? Because I don’t want to be public yet?”

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t sure where we were, and what we were doing when Jess brought it up. But I figured no matter what… I could at least be there. It’s important. You’re important.”

Kara tossed the shirt into her bag and watched as the CEO adjusted her glasses and ran a foot along her bare calf. Clad in an old university shirt and Kara’s old shorts, she was comfortable at the football players place, sticking around even during a tedious task to just be around.

There was more to pack and more to say, but Kara didn’t want to do either. Instead, she tossed her bag onto the floor with a large smack and slid into her bed, resting her head on her girlfriend’s thigh.

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wiener-soldiers · 4 years

Text

operation omega - naked (iii)

summary: years after the avengers dismantle HYDRA, the group remerges more dangerous than ever. their modus operandi? infiltrating foreign governments, stealing and reproducing their weapons, and selling them to terrorist groups. when the us government approaches the avengers for help on a secret operation with a secret asset, they are reluctant to agree. it isn’t until their quinjet almost gets shot down in the middle of nowhere when the understand that omega means business.

pairing: bucky barnes x SEAL!reader

words: 2.5k

warnings: mild sexual tension, they’re kinda all naked

a/n: this is still exposition haha. also i barely edited this

taglist: add yourself here!

OPERATION OMEGA MASTERLIST

Omega, Bucky quickly learned, was nothing like the Avengers.

They weren’t independent, rather they were the collective asset of the allied nations.

They weren’t public figures, rather nearly no one knew they existed except for the people who can directly order them to go on missions.

They didn’t really have private lives; they were stationed at their base for months on end and were only allowed back home for a few weeks at a time.

And most noticeably, they weren’t superheroes, but they were badasses.

Omega had ex-Navy SEALs, Green Berets, Delta Force, CIA, and Air Force. Everyone on the Avengers, including the enhanced, were pretty intimidated by the lineup.

Bucky also noticed how they were all much more like a family. Not like the Avengers-dysfunctional-type family, but one that actually cares. He notices that despite prepping for missions, they still have happy hour on Friday night, movie night on Saturday night, and they actually enjoy training with one another.

One minor thing Bucky also noticed is how little clothes they all wear.

He honestly shouldn’t be that surprised. Though being in army camps seemed like a lifetime ago, something about the atmosphere screamed the lack of necessity for shirts.

And honestly, who wouldn’t want to show off how fit they all were?

The first instance he realized this fact was when he was in the medical wing to get his physical. Captain Y/N insisted that all the Avengers go in for a physical exam done by their in-house doctor, Dr. Marge Dean—who also happened to be an ex-Green Beret and CIA operative—just in case there were health issues that needed to be fixed before they went in the field.

Bucky’s appointment with Dr. Dean was scheduled for noon, but he got there five minutes before. Knocking softly on the door, a soft female voice said, “It’s open” before he pushed his way inside.

Dr. Marge Dean wasn’t alone in the room. Sergeant Dominick Stone, ex-Air Force pilot, was also there. He sat on the exam table across from Dr. Marge with his right hand heavily wrapped. The duo looked up at him and offered him a smile. He tries to ignore the fact that Dr. Marge was wearing nothing but short track shorts and a sports bra and Dominick was wearing nothing but boxers. If they’re comfortable with each other, then it can’t be that bad, Bucky tells himself.

“Afternoon. Doc, Sergeant,” Bucky nods at both of them, returning a smile.

“Please, James. Call me Marge,” Marge tells him softly as she finishes wrapping Dominick’s hand. “My abuella’s a doctor. I grew up with everyone calling her Doc, I guess I just haven’t gotten used to people calling people me that yet either,” she giggles softly.

Bucky smiles at her, “Marge it is.”

“I would shake your hand,” Dominick says as he hops off the exam table and waves his bandaged hand in the air, “but it’s a little hard right now.”

Bucky chuckles, “Don’t worry about it, Sarge. What happened?”

Dominick sighs and Marge chuckles as she cleans her equipment, prepping for Bucky’s physical exam. “It’s stupid,” the Sergeant sighs.

“Oh come on,” Marge starts, “I think it’s funny, Sarge.”

Dominick sighs, “I was sharpening my knife and I accidentally cut my hand really deeply.”

“A combat knife?” Bucky asks curiously.

Dominick sighs, “A kitchen knife.”

Marge bursts into another fit of giggle before patting the exam table, signalling to Bucky that she’s ready to start his exam. “Dom’s Ma is from Ghana. The first time we went home for our break, his Ma gave him the family fried rice recipe. He makes it for us every week,” Marge starts as she starts Bucky’s physical. He surprised at how calm she acts around his metal arm; whether it’s a telltale sign of a good doctor or a good person, Bucky doesn’t really care—the simple action allow Bucky to trust her.

“I was sharpening the kitchen knives because no one in this damn place will do it—”

“You said you found it relaxing, so we let you do it!”

“And I was distracted for a second and my hand slipped,” Dominick rolled his eyes and gestures to his hand again. “It’s not big deal. No stitches needed; I’ll be good in no time.”

Marge finishes monitoring Bucky’s breathing and moves on to taking his blood pressure. “All those extra bandages are just to make him feel better,” she jokes.

Bucky takes a deep breath, allowing his walls to come down a bit. “Well, Sarge, I’d love to try it sometime,” Bucky says with a smile that reaches his eyes. “Ya know, after your hand has healed an all,” he adds an on, jokingly.

Sergeant Dominick grins, “I go by Dom.”

“Fair enough. I go by Bucky.”

The second instance he realized the unspoken, no-clothes policy was later that week. That morning marked the second week that the Avengers were working with Omega. Slowly, they were fitting in with their new partners. Despite looking crazily similar, Bucky’s hunch that Steve and Jack may want to one-up each other was proven false. Steve and Jack bonded surprisingly fast from their shared interests in history, art, and their war experiences. Wanda got along really well with Dr. Marge as soon as the two girls realized they both had a passion for cooking and baking. Natasha got along with Second Lieutenant Abigail Lee, the resident engineer and ex-Green Beret weapons specialist, as soon as Natasha found out that Abigail loved stand-up specials as much as she did. Clint and Sam got along really well Sergeant John McBueller after drunkenly one night, John taught the two how to salsa the same way his mother taught him how to when he was younger. Tony gets along with the ever-so-clumsy Sergeant Dom because Dom is secretly a nerd about everything about the Iron Man suit and Tony thinks Dom is like a younger version of Rhodey.

The unlikely group of friends found themselves in the kitchen that morning. The ex-military individuals were still used to a waking up early so their training sessions normally takes place before breakfast, whereas the Avengers training sessions normally took place later at night, as the team is full of insomniacs.

Bucky, Steve, Tony, Clint, and Sam sat in the kitchen that morning. Tony was tinkering with a new gadget Bucky couldn’t even begin to comprehend, Steve was hunched over a tablet analyzing reports, Clint was looking over flight logistics, and Sam was switching his attention between sipping his coffee and making breakfast for everyone.

Bucky’s attention was concentrated at the laptop in front of him where he was analyzing old Avengers briefs for HYDRA missions. A fit of chatter take his attention away from the laptop. Salsa-dancing John McBueller and Dr. Marge walked into the kitchen, easy chatter flowing between them. His eyes widened at their wardrobe, John was wearing nothing but grey sweatpants and Marge only sported a sports bra with her leggings, sweat dripping off the both of them.

In comparison, every Avenger was very clothed.

“Morning guys,” John called out, following Marge into the kitchen. Marge busied herself by making a protein shake for her and John, not noticing the stares both her and John were getting.

“Morning…” the Avengers mumbled.

“John you want banana in your shake?” Marge asked, not giving a care in the world.

“Hmm, yeah sure. Also, can you add peanut butter too?” John responses, easily as care-free.

“Are you guys always like this?” Tony asks, baffled at how casual they are.

“What?” Marge and John ask at the same time. Bucky chuckles at his expression.

“This…naked,” Tony says bluntly.

Another loud chuckle is heard down the hall and Dom and Abigail enter the kitchen next. The corner of Bucky’s mouth quirks upwards as soon as Tony’s eyes widen even more. Abigail was wearing nothing but a swimsuit and a flannel to cover up, her hair still wet from the laps she swam in the lake that morning. Unlike John, Dom was wearing a shirt, but his dripping wet swim trunks and open flannel—with nothing on underneath, to add—made his attire barely passible.

“Jesus, is your dress code basically nothing?” Tony remarks. He wasn’t surprised that every member of the Omega team was absolutely shredded. He was used to it in fact, as it usually isn’t surprising for Steve or Bucky or Sam to walk around shirtless. He was just surprised about the bluntness the Omega team had.

“Morning,” Bucky hears a final mumble. The group in the kitchen turns towards the sleepy voice; it was Y/N with Jack trailing into the kitchen behind her. Though he was used to seeing his new teammates so naked, his eyes widened at the sight of her. She wore nothing but pajama shorts and a lacy bralette. Jack shuffled in behind her, wearing nothing but boxers. Jack gently put a green flannel around her shoulders and Y/N mumbled a thanks.

“Sorry we woke up late and missed training. Pulled an all-nighter analyzing more intel and I didn’t realize I missed training,” Y/N mumbles.

“Jesus Christ, you guys are shameless. I dig it,” Tony says, mostly to himself.

Bucky can’t help but feel his cheeks heat up at the sight of Y/N. He normally was fine around naked girls. He was nowhere near the level of confident as he was when he was younger, but we was rarely flustered at the sight of one. He really tried not to stare, but the view of Y/N in nothing but comfy clothes wrapped around a flannel, laughing softly at something someone said over a cup of coffee was something that made Bucky’s stomach flip.

Oh, fuck. She’s so beautiful, Bucky thinks.

Bucky hears a soft chuckle behind him. He tilts his view backwards and sees Wanda (he isn’t exactly sure when she woke up and made her way to the kitchen) smirking at him. His eyes widen, Stop reading my mind, asshole.

Wanda’s smirk only widens.

Early the next morning, Bucky woke in a cold sweat. The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he looked around the unfamiliar surroundings before he slowly realized that we was in the Omega bunker, not his room at the Avengers’ tower.

Fucking nightmare, he sighs. His metal arms cramps, a symptom of the Phantom Limb Syndrome that he feels every now and then, especially after he has a nightmare. Bucky sighs and glances at the time: 5:11 AM.

He decided that sleep is so far behind him at this point, so Bucky rolls out of bed, pulls on a pair of workout shorts, and trudges out of the room.

As soon as he walks out into the hallway, the goosebumps on his bare bake perk up. Still, Bucky continues trudging towards the kitchen. He starts a pot of coffee and digs around the fridge for some food.

“Bucky?” someone calls out to him, startling him. He tries to lift his head out of the fridge, but he accidentally hits his head.

“Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing the back of his head.

“Shit!” the voice calls behind him and he feels to warm hands wrap around his neck. “Are you okay?”

Bucky turns around and face Y/N, who’s hands are still on his neck. Bucky can’t help but notice that she’s wearing nothing but a sports bra and sweatpants. He gulps and trains his eyes on her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. No biggie,” he says weakly.

Y/N smiles softly, letting her hands fall. “What’re you doing up?” she asks softly, side-stepping around him to grab a banana from the counter.

Bucky exhales softly, hoping his breath isn’t shaky. “Nightmare,” he states bluntly, too tired to lie.

Her eyebrow raises, “Oh?”

“It was about, uh…how I lost my arm,” he says quietly, not meeting her eyes. “The dreams, I’m used to. It’s the pain from Phantom Limb Syndrome that usually wakes me up.”

“Biofeedback,” Y/N says simply.

“I’m sorry?”

“Talk to Tony about adding biofeedback and haptics to your metal arm so you can feel touch in that arm again,” Y/N responds, stepping closer to him. She reaches out for Bucky’s metal palm and drags a finger down it. Bucky doesn’t flinch; he knows what the feeling is supposed to feel like but it pains him that he can’t feel it. “I read an article talking about how biofeedback helped some patients overcome their Phantom Limb Syndrome…” she trails off, hoping she didn’t make it awkward.

“Thank you,” Bucky says sincerely, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Y/N doesn’t say anything, but the comforting look in her tired eyes say it all, you’re welcome.

Bucky continues to make his coffee and a breakfast omelette while Y/N sits at the island silently, eating her banana and observing him. It was 5:30 AM already, meaning she should have been out the door and starting her run. Instead, she watches how his back muscles contract as he cuts vegetable combined with the soft mechanical whir of his metal arm to create a mesmerizing scene.

Bucky speaks up, snapping her out of her trance, “What about you? What’re you doing up?”

“I normally go on a run right now,” she told him, casting her gaze towards his face. She notices how his unkempt hair dangles in front of his eyes and how she do desperately got the urge to push the hair out of his face to stare into his eyes.

“Don’t let me stop you then,” Bucky jests.

Y/N smiles at him, “Didn’t feel like it today. I like going on runs because it’s calming. Sitting here and watching you cook, it’s also…calming.”

Bucky had nothing to say to that, surprised by her honestly. Y/N is equally as surprised and hopes she didn’t make it weird. Apparently, she hasn’t because moments later, Bucky slides a serving of omelette for her as well.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbles before digging in.

“Don’t mention it,” Bucky replies with kind eyes.

They eat in silence. Not an uncomfortable one, but a perfectly, intentionally quiet one—like if one of them spoke, it would ruin the calming and intimate emotion draped over the kitchen.

They both finish their meals and clean up the dishes. As Bucky is about to round the corner and head back into his room, Y/N calls out, “I would love to run with you, if you want.”

Bucky pauses mid-step and glances back at her, waiting for her to continue.

“There’s this trail that I made when we first moved here. It leads to a beautiful rock formation and a waterfall. I run there every morning,” Y/N gushed out. Bucky fully turned to look at her this time. “You’re welcome to join, if you want.”

Bucky smiles at her.

Bucky got a long really well with Captain Y/N Y/L/N after their quiet morning breakfast and confessions. Waking up to run with her is what make Bucky excited to wake up every morning.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan fanfiction #operation omega

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hanniiesuckle17 · 5 years

Text

Brains or Muscles

a/n: this will be the first of my descendants series for skz! comment if you want a part 2 or which boy you want next!! idk why i did this in third person

Stray Kids as Descendants

WARNINGS: n/a........it is so weird to type that for me

Summary: Jeongin has always been quite quiet. He was one of the Descendants who tended to slip into the background. His parents weren't considered royalty in Auradon and he mostly kept to himself besides occasionally talking to Cinderella's son, Bangchan. He most certainly didn't expect the daughter of Hercules to talk to him one day.

Genre: descendants!au, nerd&jock!au, romance, fluff

Jeongin took after his mother, Kida in every aspect except for the fact that Jeongin was not brave. He was not strong, and he certainly was not a leader. While his appearance was his mother's, his personality was much like his father, Milo's. His head was almost always buried in a book, and punctuality was certainly not his specialty.

Such as now.

The white haired boy sprinted into Auradon prep, papers flying behind him. Jeongin had spent most of the previous night entranced in some maps his father had sent him. He didn't mean to oversleep, he had set an alarm.........he was pretty sure he set an alarm.

"Second warning, Jeongin!" Fairy Godmother yelled as a flash of white and blue raced passed her. Just as the bell tolled across the campus, Jeongin burst into his History of Auradon class. The teacher sighed and motioned for him to sit down and with a bright red blush on his ears and cheeks, he did.

Nervously he looked around, trying to see if anyone was watching him, laughing at him. Everyone seemed to turn back to the lecture except for one pair of eyes. A small smirk perched on the girl's lips and she had a sort of twinkle in her eye. Quickly he looked away before his cheeks turned a deeper red.

He had often seen her with Chan, Cinderella's son. Chan needed tutoring sometimes and Jeongin was always happy to help after Chan's practice had ended. He wasn't sure of their relationship, but he knew that the girl, Y/n was one of the only two girls in the history of Auradon to be put on the Tourney team. It was a brutal sport, one that only a daughter of Hercules would be thrilled to play. And.....some part of him wanted to be apart of it too.

Jeongin didn't have many friends. He wasn't part of any club. He mostly kept to himself, his studies, and his maps. But there was this deep desire to be part of that team. At first he thought maybe he just wanted to have some more friends. But the more he watched the practices and watched the team, he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

She was so strong and powerful. He honestly thought it made her more beautiful. He had heard some of the other girls in school shame Y/n for even trying out for the team.

Something about her fascinated him. Like she was a map with a secret for him to find. Jeongin's day continued as normal. At four o'clock he went to the field where he waited for Chan in the bleachers. Tourney practice was just ending and two figures started climbing the stairs toward Jeongin. His heart stopped when he saw Y/n coming up with Chan. She had her H/c pushed back and beads of sweat lay on her forehead making her skin have a shimmering effect in the sunlight.

"Jeongin! You didn't wait long did you?" Chan clapped him on the back with a smile. "No. Of course not. Not at all." His words stumbled out of his mouth as if they were tripping over themselves. "It was a great practice. You were fantastic, Y/n." She looked surprise at the mention of her name. In all honesty she did not think Jeongin would want to talk to her. Most boys that weren't on the team were too intimidated by her. "Oh....um thanks. Jeongin right? You're the one keeping this idiot on the team?"

He couldn't do much else but nod. "Do you like Tourney?" Jeongin mentally cursed himself for simply nodding again. His mother would be appalled at his actions.

"Why don't you try out then?"

"Jeongin? Play Tourney? Y/n have you seen him? No offense, Innie." Jeongin blushed at Chan's nickname for him. His shoes suddenly became very fascinating.

"Seriously. A few weeks of training and I bet I could get him in your position, Mr. Linebacker."

"I will gladly take that bet."

"The usual then?"

"Of course."

They shook hands and she smirked. Before Jeongin could react Y/n had take the books in his arms and shoved them at Chan. "I'll be taking your tutor then." She threw and arm over Jeongin's shoulder and guided the two of them down the steps.

"Wait whose going to tutor me?"

"Ask Seungmin!!"

"YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!"

That night Jeongin sat on his bed in sweats and a t-shirt looking over another of his dad's maps. Woojin his roommate had long gone to sleep and was snoring quietly on the other side of the room.

A knock broke the silence of the room. No one ever came this late, not even room checks. Usually Woojin's friends left about ten. Maybe one of them forgot something?

Jeongin winced as his bare feet padded against the freezing wood floor. Opening the door he found Y/n standing with a bright smile. "Do you have the wrong room number?" She couldn't possibly be looking for him.....could she?

"No. This is your room." Jeongin stood in confused silence for a seconds before again asking a question. "Is this about the history notes? Cause I can give you mine." As he turned back into the room she stopped him. "Do you not remember this afternoon?"

"You weren't joking?"

"Do you think I would casually bet The Suspicious Purchase?"

"What's The Suspicious Purchase?"

She shrugged and tugged on his wrist. "I'll tell you later. Come on! We have training to do." Y/n dragged Jeongin down the hall, a big smile plastered on her face.

The night air was cool and a warm spring wind blew across their faces. Jeongin quietly followed the girl he had admired from afar all the way to the Tourney field. The lights were on illuminating the bright green grass. Y/n turned to the boy with white hair when they had reached the edge of the field. She couldn't help but notice the sharp angles of the boy's face which were hidden by his large round spectacles.

"Take off the hoodie. Let's see what we have to work with." Nervously Jeongin removed the hoodie and stood in a tank top that he hoped he had remembered to wash. She eyed him up and down and made a circle around him as well.

He was nervous.

He had already spent more time and said more words to her than ever before. She was quite pleasantly surprised to find a little bit of muscle on the boy. She tried to ignore how cute he looked in something other than a button up. "Okay! You know the rules of Tourney, yes?" Jeongin nodded with a smile. "My mom loves Tourney." The smile didn't go unnoticed by Y/n at the mention of his mother.

"Whose your mother?"

"Kida."

"That explains the hair."

They both chuckled before returning to an awkward silence. Jeongin kept asking himself what his mother would say. She always knew exactly the right thing to say and never doubted her words or confidence.

However it was Y/n to break the silence. "I thought we could start with the track to get your endurance up." Jeongin nodded once again with a smile and followed her to the track that bordered the field. "You don't talk much do you?" A blush creeped up his cheeks as they started to jog. "Sorry...I'm just not used to having someone to talk to."

His words stuck with her. She recalled every time she had seen him. Each time he was alone. No friends. He was always by himself. "Well now you do. And you better not leave anything out." She chuckled and nudged his arm.

For the next hour she trained him for try outs. Jeongin struggled but he put on a brave face and did everything she asked with a smile. He knew that in the end this would be good for him. Not only would he be on the team, but he would be closer to Y/n.

She kept him talking the entire time. Jeongin couldn't quite understand what she found so interesting about him. Truly Y/n wanted to know the boy. He was always so quiet and shy. She hated seeing him left out of groups at school.

Every night for the next two weeks she came to his door. They would train together. She never left him behind and always made sure he was going at his own pace. And a funny thing happened. People started noticing Jeongin. Maybe it was this new glow he had about him. Or how he felt more confident in his body. Or maybe it was the fact that Y/n walked down the hall with him everyday without fail. Jeongin was happy. He had friends and people actually liked talking to him. He even got quite close to Y/n’s brother, Changbin.

The night before tryouts however, Y/n didn’t show up at his dorm. Woojin had gotten quite used to his roommate going out so he often stayed up until he left. “Maybe she thought you didn’t need anymore training?” Jeongin shook his head as he watched the door, shoulders slumped and heavy. She had confirmed the time with him earlier that day. The clock chimed one and Jeongin shot up from his bed and threw on his jacket. “Where are you going?”

“To find Y/n.”

The white haired boy wandered the dark halls looking for her room number. He knew she shared a room with Jasmine and Pocahontas's daughters, but what was the number again?

After walking up and down the corridor he finally found the right room. Hesitantly, he knocked on the door. He pushed his doubts away as the wooden door opened. But, it wasn’t the girl he wanted to see. Serina, Jasmine’s daughter opened the door with a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.

“Oh. Well isn’t this unexpected.”

Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “You’re here for the tramp?” His face twisted at the word. Was this normal for girls? He didn’t know. “One minute, blondie.” She left the frame, but her voice could be heard in the hall.

“Hey Tramp! One of your boyfriends is at the door. You’d better go see him.”

The laughter that followed stabbed at his heart and his smile started to fall from his face. It dropped completely when he saw Y/n’s form shuffle to the door, her head down in shame.

“Jeongin....now’s not a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jeongin had to stop her from closing the door on him. His mind tried to desperately find an excuse for her to come out with him. “My dad...he-uh....just sent me a new map. I was wondering if you wanted to check it out with me.” Jeongin’s eyes glanced behind her to the two girls who were doing nothing to hide their laughter.

“Please?” He asked once more.

Slowly she lifted her head and Jeongin tried to keep a straight face when he saw her tears.Y/n nodded slowly and closed the door without a sound. The two students walked in silence, not particularly going anywhere. Each thought they were following the other, but somehow both ended up at the center of the Tourney field again.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Her hair blew in the night wind as she faced away from Jeongin. "It's fine." Was all she said. But Jeongin knew. He had said those words many times before and it never meant what he said.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He was met with silence. Looking around he saw a pair of the focus mitts lying on the bench. He picked them up and began slipping his hands into the back slot. He tapped her shoulder gently, with a small smile.

"Come on! Give me a tap."

With a sad laugh she wiped her tears away. She gave the pad a little love tap and then looked at Jeongin.

"No. For real. You can do better than that."

She hit it a little harder this time. She watched Jeongin shake his head with a tiny smile. The next time she hit the pad hard enough for Jeongin's hand to recoil the tiniest bit.

"You are the daughter of Hercules. I know you can do better. Come on!"

Y/n stared at the gloves for a moment and the sadness came back into her eyes. With the swiftness only a demigod could have she struck the glove again and again. Her final punch sent Jeongin flying twenty feet back.

"OH MY GOD, JEONGIN! I AM SO SORRY!"

"It's fine!"

She ran over and kneeled next to the boy as he lay on the ground. Frantically she took off the gloves and checked every bone in his hands. Jeongin watched her intently as she held his hand with such care. Worriedly she helped him sit up and winced with him when she pushed to hard on his shoulder.

"Do you feel better?" The blonde boy said with a genuine smile that lit up the night. She nodded and looked into Jeongin's eyes. "Thank you." Without thinking about it she brought her lips to his cheek to place a chaste kiss on his skin. It was like an instinct from a past life that felt natural and safe in the moment.

She froze when she realized what she had done. Jeongin's eyes turned to saucers and every muscle in his body went rigid and he could feel his heartbeat pulsing in every part of him. He hoped to God it was too dark to see the bright red blush on his ears and cheeks.

"I am so sorry!"

"No-no it's....it's fine....I uh-"

There was an awkward silence and each of them were hoping the other didn't see the heat on their cheeks. Each were hoping the other would speak. Each were hoping the other would make the next move.

"Y/n?"

"Yes, Jeongin?"

"Umm.....could you maybe close your eyes for a second?"

"Umm....okay...."

Hesitantly she closed her eyes and Jeongin couldn't help but take in every single aspect of her face. The lines of her nose. The angle in her cheeks. The creases near her eyes. He did something he never though he could.

He kissed her.

Y/n wasn't surprised when she felt his lips on hers. She couldn't help but smile at how gentle and soft the kiss was. He flinched away slightly when her hand placed itself on his chest just below his shoulder. To his surprise she didn't pull away, instead she returned his kiss ten fold.

After a moment he pulled away and looked down at the field. Y/n couldn't stop the blush on her cheeks from the moment they had shared and she smiled even wider when she caught glimpse of the cute grin Jeongin was trying to hide.

"Can I walk you back to your room?"

"I would love that."

Like a gentleman Jeongin took her hand and helped her off the ground and he didn't let go of it as the two started walking back to the dorms.

The morning of try outs Jeongin ran joyfully to the Tourney field. His shy grin fell into place on his lips when he saw Y/n waving to him near Chan and her brother. A flush came over his ears when she greeted him with a happy kiss, her arms draping around his neck.

“Well....that’s new.”

Both boys looked at the pair in question and shock. Changbin eyed Jeongin up and down in a way only a brother could. “So, Jeongin, are you ready for try outs?” A smirk played on Chan’s lips. Before Jeongin could slip into old habits Y/n placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him. “Of course. He’s got this in the bag. You better watch out, Chan. He’s coming for your spot.”

Chan scoffed as the coach’s whistle blew calling all players to the field.With a smile Y/n sent Jeongin off and joined the two boys on the bleachers to watch. She watched with pride as Jeongin passed through each tier with ease. She could see the smile on his face as he played the scrimmage and cheered loudly anytime the white haired boy scored or completed a tackle.

Beside her Chan was dumbfounded at the sheer force and speed the skinny boy had. The second the coach blew the final whistle he knew he was screwed. Head in his hands Changbin and Y/n dragged him onto the field to hear the results. Jeongin found reassurance in Y/n’s words and the grip she held on his gloved hand.

“New team members are as follows.”

He held his breath.

“Byun Baekhyun; Goalie.”

Y/n rubbed her thumb over his hand.

“Yang Jeongin; Linebacker. Thank you all for trying out. See you at practice on Tuesday.”

Y/n screamed and turned to Jeongin with the brightest smile her brother had ever seen her wear. “You did it!” He was still shocked as he embraced her. The team came over and congratulated the new members with excitement. Chan’s face fell when Y/n turned to him with an impish grin.

“Chan, we should get going shouldn’t we? I forgot that I need to go shopping!”

Ten minutes later Chan, Y/n, Jeongin, and Changbin piled out of her car into the most busiest grocery store parking lot. “Why are we here again?” Jeongin whispered to Bin. “This is their usual punishment for losing a bet.”

Jeongin followed silently behind Y/n as she led the boys down an aisle. The devilish look returned on her face when she pulled three items off various shelves. His eyes widened when she shoved them into Chan’s arms.

“Check out on your card, no talking. Oh and don’t forget to smile.” With a dejected sigh Chan stepped into the busiest line and groaned when he saw a girl, specifically the daughter of Dr. Facilier, who Chan had grown a crush on. Y/n and her brother laughed at their luck as the watched near the exit.

Jeongin just watched still not fully understanding the punishment. With the most innocent and largest smile he had seen Chan put the biggest cucumber they could find, condoms, and lube on the conveyor. You could see the heat on his ears and the sweat on his forehead as he tried to keep the smile.

The girl looked up at him with an arched eyebrow as she saw the items roll down the conveyor. “You Auradon kids are weird.” She rang him up and chuckled as he took the bag not dropping the smile. Jeongin couldn’t help but laugh two as Chan turned and walked towards them with tears almost in his eyes.

Y/n and Changbin fell onto the floor in a fit of laughter muttering incoherent sentences. After they had calmed down Jeongin helped her up and took her hand as they exited the store.

“What’s with that smile?” She asked as the setting sun illuminated the boy’s face in a golden orange glow. He turned towards her and looked at the girl he was lucky to call his now.

“I just feel comfortable being myself around you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel like I have to be my mother or my father when I’m with you. I just feel like me.”

“Well....I think I like you.”

Jeongin smiled and leaned down to connect their lips in Auradon’s last few minutes of setting sun.

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Photo

Was reminded of this one today :D

-o-o-o-

Carly had been through a lot in her short time at Tracy Industries, but this took the cake.

Mom was really into genealogy.

But none of that was important.

What was important was her boss. Scott Tracy, a man she admired beyond belief, was curled up in the cubicle with her, his head in her lap.

Of course, this was a position she may have daydreamed about at some point, but those dreams usually involved summer days and lazing in a field under a tree with a picnic rug and a bottle of bubbly.

It should also be noted that they were daydreams that were likely shared by ninety percent of the female staff in the building and in no way ever considered an actual possibility.

And never involved a gun man or his six equally armed cronies.

Every one knew how good the Tracys were.

They were led by a hero.

And in the middle of her office stood a man who wanted to take that all away.

“C..arly.” Fogged blue eyes searched for her as his head bled on the print of her dress.

His hand reached up and took her finger away. “Help me up.” And he was straining to climb to his feet.

“No.” It took very little to hold him down which only proved that he should stay down.

“He’s going to hurt pe’ple.”

Carly pressed her lips together as she caught the eye of Barb in the cubicle across from hers. “You let us worry about that.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head, only to have to close his eyes at the movement.

She brushed a hair off his forehead.

Scott tried to get up again, this time opening his mouth to yell something.

She clamped her hand down and muffled whatever he was trying to say just as the gunman squawked in pain. “You bitch! You bit me!” There was the sound of a scuffle and the gun went off.

Silence followed.

Mr Tracy’s eyes widened in horror and glistened in the overhead lighting. Again, he tried to rise, but couldn’t.

Carly shook her head and mouthed a silent ‘I’m sorry’. She had to blink away her own tears.

“You’re not going to find him.”

Carly blinked. That was Marcus, the guy who fixed her computer. Ever the nerd, he wore a Trek tie to work almost every day and the days he didn’t, it was a Doctor Who tie.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

The click of the gun. “And who is going to stop me?”

Barb scuttled out of her cubicle, her headset on her head whispering ever so quietly. Her eyes pinned Carly and clearly told her to keep their boss safe.

Carly swallowed hard.

The shift of an office chair. “I will stop you.” The voice shook but held strong, this time a woman she didn’t recognise.

“Me, too.” A wavery male voice.

“And me.”

Then there were many voices filling the audio space of the room.

“Then we will kill you all.” The gunman yelled over the ruckus, only to scream out in pain. Anger and screams overtook and Carly clutched her boss to her, tears running down her cheeks.

A roar suddenly drowned out everything. A roar that every employee knew well.

The roar of a Thunderbird.

The sound of breaking glass.

More yelling.

But no more gunfire.

Mr Tracy’s blue eyes were wet and struggling to focus on her.

Until they closed and didn’t open again.

Shit.

Her fingers scrambled for a pulse as her own staggered until she found it.

“Please, Mr Tracy.” She brushed that same stray hair off his forehead and it stubbornly flicked back.

Barb suddenly appeared, a woman in IR blue-grey beside her. Security.

“John, I’ve got him. We need Virgil in here.”

“FAB.”

Carly barely registered the exchange, only that there were suddenly hands attempting to take her boss away.

Her unconscious and possibly dying boss, Mr Tracy.

She struggled a moment, but the woman’s grip was like iron and Barb grabbed Carly, soothing words spilling all over her.

A man in green and blue appeared with a stretcher. Curt words, an examination and Mr Tracy was whisked away.

Carly found her hands empty.

She shook her head. “Mr Tracy was shot.”

“We know. Virgil’s on it.” As if on command, Thunderbird Two, which had been hovering outside the windows, spun midair and tore off into the distance.

The absence of its engine roar left a gap that had many of the people in the room muttering.

“What happened to the bad guys?” She blinked.

“They didn’t stand a chance.” The youngest Tracy was checking her pulse and frowning at her.

“Who got shot?”

Alan was staring at Barb, frowning.

Alan turned back to Carly.

“Wow, she’s a little scary.”

Carly straightened, finally finding her spine. “We’re all the same, Mr Tracy. You don’t mess with Tracy Industries.”

Her lip trembled as his blue eyes widened.

She swallowed suddenly aware of exactly what she had been willing to offer. “We protect our own.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #nuttyfic reblog

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evcrafter · 4 years

Text

Carlos De Vil

Face-claim: Cameron Boyce

Status: semi-active

Biography:

Carlos Oscar De Vil is the son of Cruella De Vil. He was first introduced as the bullying target of Jay and Mal. Raised to believe that dogs are vicious animals, Carlos used to have an irrational fear of canines. Everything changed when Carlos arrived in Auradon and met a real dog, Dude, and the two soon became inseparable.

Carlos is one of the nicer VKs and is rarely seen doing anything bad. Having been treated as a slave for a long time, he is obedient and dislikes the idea of going against authority. He tends to follow what his mother tells him to and what his friends do. His mother claims he was a follower rather than a leader, and Carlos longed to prove her wrong.

Being younger and physically weaker than the rest of his class, Carlos was often a target of bullies. Despite being looked down by the majority, Carlos has shown to be a lot smarter than them. He is a true tech prodigy, having had worked feverishly on a project that would connect the Isle of the Lost to the outside world.

Although he inherited his mother's love of fashion (especially if it's in black-and-white), he didn't inherit Cruella's love of dogs ― on the contrary, Carlos is deathly afraid of dogs. Cruella raised Carlos into thinking that dogs are killers, as well as vicious, rabid pack animals. As a result, Carlos had an extreme fear of canines, practically allowing them to chase him up a tree. Carlos realized that dogs can be gentle and lovable when Ben introduced him to Dude the campus mutt; the two then developed an unbreakable bond.

Carlos cares about his friends deeply and sees them as his older siblings. Evie was the first person that he ever considered as a friend. The two grew closer after Carlos rescued Evie from the trap that Mal set up. Carlos noticed that something was troubling Mal and requested the rest of his friends to sit down and have a talk, even though he didn't know how to start a "girl talk." He is extremely supportive of all his friends, and even calls them his family.

One of Carlos's greatest attributes is his character. He is extremely loyal, willing to follow his friends (family) wherever they go. He is honest, admits when he feels down, very clever, witty, and asks for advice when he needs it. He keeps the team together and tries his best to be helpful to the others. Carlos is fun-loving and holds good clothing styles. And as most would say, very good-looking.

Carlos is treated badly by his mother and sleeps in her dressing room on the floor, without touching her furs. He is forced to look after and clean her furs, and it is also revealed that she loves her furs more than him and refers to her car as "her baby."

Since he never had anyone to play with, and everyone ignored and bullied him, Carlos never received what he longed to have: love. Cruella tortured him with chores and the thought of dogs, while Mal and Jay bullied him into holding a party. Reza, his rival in school, takes a vial out of the lab, and Carlos himself admits that Reza hates him. In the book, Carlos seems to be the one everyone beats up, as he tells Evie he is beat up in "games." At Evie's 6th birthday party, Carlos is given a cat named Beelzebub, a kitten from Lucifer's litter. Thanks to "Bee," Carlos was given affection and love, and was able to push through many hard times that were yet to come over the course of the years. Years later, Carlos rescues Evie from his mother's closet and helps her escape the bear traps. As a result, the two begin to bond together and grow closer throughout the course of the books. Evie tries to cheer Carlos up about his bedroom, but Carlos objects, saying his mother keeps him away from her furs. When Evie offers to give him an old comforter, Carlos didn't believe that a Villain Kid would offer such a thing; Evie herself felt awkward, and didn't know what to say. Carlos tells her that "no one's ever cared whether I'm warm or not." Having never had any form of comfort, Carlos asks if she has a pillow, regrets asking, and then tries to cover it up by claiming he has had one before. Even as both felt extremely awkward and uncomfortable, both felt something different inside, and we are given a glimpse that VK's can feel different emotions.

With other things that are not related to his house, Carlos is incredibly smart and enjoys science and creating inventions, and refers to himself as a nerd. He has a tree-house where he keeps his inventions and chemicals, as he fears his mother will create hair products. He also has Jace and Harry, the sons of Jasper and Horace, as his "minions", though they are not truly his friends since Cruella forces them to hang out together. He gets beaten up and pushed around in school. Carlos was also the one responsible for making a hole in the dome briefly when he was testing his invention, which would cause Maleficent's staff to gain its magic back as a result. It also lets him watch Disney Channel sitcoms like Dog with a Blog, Liv and Maddie, and Mighty Med while the dome is open. After Mal and Jay force Evie to help them retrieve it, she also convinces Carlos to reluctantly join the quest. Though the group fail when the staff is unable to retain any magic, Carlos is finally accepted by Mal and Jay, beginning the four's friendship.

Cruella forces Carlos to help touch up her roots, fluff up her fur, and scrape the bunions from her feet. This makes Carlos consider that heading to Auradon wouldn't be so bad, but Cruella uses his fear of canines as a way to control him. While in the limo headed to Auradon, Carlos takes a liking to chocolate. When they first meet Doug, he seems to have trouble remembering the names of the Seven Dwarfs, though Carlos seems to know the names of each and reminds Doug of Sneezy. He is the most tech-savvy, as he seems to take a liking to video games and is able to use a computer to locate the museum where the Fairy Godmother's wand is. When Jay causes the alarm to sound, Carlos hears the phone and picks it up; he manages to disable the alarm and make them think it was a system error.

The Fairy Godmother assigns Carlos and Jay to sports. While Carlos doesn't seem to do well, Ben offers to help him with this. As he practices sprinting, Carlos gets chased by the campus mutt, Dude. Seeing that Dude isn't vicious, Carlos starts to take a liking to canines, and takes Dude everywhere he goes in the film. During the big game between Sherwood, Jay insists that Carlos play with him, and with his help, the team wins the game.

When Cruella sees Dude and calls him an "earmuff," Carlos defends Dude; this is most likely the first time that Carlos has stood up to his mother. He then "burns" her by telling her to "give it a rest" with talking to a toy dog head. In one plan, it is Carlos' job to get into the limo and find the remote that activates the barrier around the Isle of the Lost. At the coronation, when Mal makes a speech on choosing to be good, Carlos is cautious at first, as he is nervous of the anger of their parents. But after being assured, he chooses to be good too. He is seen dancing with Jane during the coronation party.

As they settle into life in Auradon, Carlos is seen as the student who spends his time in library after school and likes to work in the dark. However, he is first seen working on finding the culprit of sending him an email to return to the Isle. Mal and Evie join him, and both state they also received messages telling them the same thing. When Evie suggests that their parents are behind the scheme, Carlos worries and begins to search urgently. He manages to hack the system on his computer by guessing the code- D-A-L-M-A-T-I-A-N-S. He unlocks the Dark Net, a form of internet that allows villains to communicate secretly. Carlos becomes frightened and tells the others that he will work on obtaining more information about the Dark Net.

Later, Carlos is running across the Tourney field to find Mal and Evie. He lunges into the girl's dorm, only to find the door open, and tumbles to the ground front forward. Evie and Mal help him up, and Carlos quickly tells them he found some important news. He pulls up a tab with their pictures on it, with red X's across them. He tells them he found out a secret message and translates for them. Apparently, the secret meeting is on Saturday at 11:59 PM, before the New Moon rises. Jay joins them a few minutes later and suggests planning a way to get back to the Isle without being noticed. Together, the four VK's make a plan.

Jay states that he and Carlos must play in the Tourney game on Saturday, and Evie has a dance plan that has to go through as well. The 4 make a plan to compete and go to the dance, while also being able to leave for the Isle later that night. Carlos and Jay would act to be a chauffeur and bodyguard, while Mal and Evie would pretend to be Lonnie and Audrey. Carlos and Jay win the game, though Ben is absent due to King duties.

Afterwards, the four go to the dance, and spend some time there so others know they are present. Mal eventually gets Jay to follow through with the plan, and goes to find Carlos. Carlos is dancing with Jane when Jay comes to find him. When Jay tells him he's not feeling well, Carlos almost forgets the plan but saves it at the last minute. He says he doesn't feel well either, clutches his middle, pretends to be in great pain, and tells Jane he is sorry. Both he and Jay make it out of the ballroom and make a beeline for the limo. When Evie and Mal join them, Evie asks Jay how he knows how to drive. When Jay admits he can't, Carlos tells him to switch places. Mal asks him how he knows how to drive, and Carlos says he is self-taught. Ben arrives coming back from Camelot and finds Mal and the others leaving. When he sees what is going on, he asks why Mal and Evie look like Lonnie and Audrey and why Carlos is driving. Ben says he is not mad, but is questioning Carlos driving without a license, Jay tricking Jordan out of the keys, and Mal and Evie pretending to be someone else. He lets them go reluctantly, fearing for their safety, but knows they need to go.

Carlos drives to the Isle with the others, but he crashes the car when trying to find a place to hide the limo. They are okay, but they lose to remote to the dome, causing them to worry. After they change, the four went separate ways to find their parents. Carlos heads to Castle Across The Way with Evie to find their parents. When Castle Across The Way is deserted, they try Hell Hall. But once more the house is empty. Later Carlos and Evie meet up with Mal and Maddy to eat at the Slop Shop. Evie becomes annoyed with Maddy, as she bullies Carlos about past exploits. Carlos is extremely uncomfortable throughout the entire conversation.

Later, Carlos, Evie, and Mal meet up with Jay, who was waiting for the Anti-heroes meeting to begin. During the meeting, the four learn that their parents are in the Endless Catacombs of Doom, and are looking for their talismans. After the meeting, Carlos and Jay obtain more information about the talismans. Mal had left the meeting, being tricked into following Maddy. Evie follows her, to make sure she is okay. Carlos and Jay are unaware of their absence. When Evie comes back to find Carlos and Jay, Mal is surrounded by a group of VK's who are angry. Mal is thrown off the port, right into the ocean. Carlos is the only one who could swim out of Jay and Evie. He jumps into to ocean to save Mal, while Jay and Evie draw away the crocodiles. Carlos is able to save Mal, and the group meet up at Mal's former home. Carlos shows up wearing a yellow and purple sweater and shorts that were too big for him.

The next morning, Carlos and the other Anti-heroes find a hole that leads into the Catacombs. They enter the Catacombs and begin to search for the talismans. After Evie and Jay find and conquer their talismans, Carlos has to face his. His talisman forms a picture of his mother holding her Ring of Envy. Carlos is deathly scared, and almost lets his mind and fear get the better of him. But, he listens to his heart, and manages to take the ring away from his mother. The ring tempts Carlos to use it to destroy his mother, but his heart is better than that, and he resists the temptation. Much later, Carlos and the others make their way out the Catacombs.

Together with his friends, Carlos is able to defeat Madam Mim. He returns to Auradon Prep on Sunday with his friends, and hangs out with Jane afterwards. The book closes with Carlos stating, "I don't feel like a hero." But Mal ends the book saying to remember what Yen Sid said, "We are the villains you root for in the story."

Now instilled with a burgeoning sense of self-confidence from his new life on Auradon, Carlos has left his wicked ways behind him along with his fear of dogs. With his fellow villain kids and his buddy Dude the dog by his side, he is ready to step up and take on another epic adventure. When Ben hears that Mal has returned to the Isle of the Lost after the pressure of royally perfect becomes too much for her. Carlos along with Evie and Jay attempt to teach Ben their wicked ways so he can sneak around the island to find her without being recognized and soon come face to face with Uma, Harry Hook, and Gil.

He is extremely intelligent. Unlike the other VK's, Carlos is very smart, a mathematician, a scientist, an inventor, and an athlete. After all, he was the one who "punched" a hole in the dome.

He has the ability to drive. Unlike a few, Carlos knows how to drive the limo, and is able to travel from Auradon to the Isle. Carlos himself tells the others that he learned how to drive so he could drive his mother around. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a license.

Carlos has the potential to create spells, as well as cast them, like Evie and Mal. However, it seems like Carlos avoids using any form of magic, except for the truth gummy. He doesn't seem to like using power, and tends to stick to the internet and online world.

He is a true tech prodigy. Carlos holds the ability to use many forms of technology, like in finding the museum and his 3D printer. He even impresses Chad with his intelligence and technology, which might be the only reason why Chad is always using his 3D printer without his permission.

He can swim. Unlike Jay and other people of the Isle, Carlos knows how to swim, or at least dog-paddle, as he says, "I can dog-paddle! I'll go!"

Carlos is sometimes a step ahead of the others. Literally, as Evie said, "How did you know... Never mind." He is often able to find out certain information that allows his friends to figure out different plans. His ability to investigate and obtain information makes him very special to the group.

Carlos holds many strengths, but that doesn't mean that he has no weakness. There are few weaknesses Carlos has, and some of them are just mental.

Carlos tends to become very nervous quickly, which sometimes makes him falter in certain areas.

He doesn't always stand up for himself. When his mother video chats him, he stands up for Dude and surprises his mother in the process. Carlos has trouble standing up to Jay and Mal when we first meet him, and is bullied into holding Mal's party, and joining the quest to find the Dragon Eye. He allows the other students to beat him up in a game.

He is physically weaker and younger than the rest. Carlos is shown to be almost two years younger than the rest in school age and age. Due to this, he is not able to fight back against the bullies.

His self-confidence is very low, due to his mother. Cruella constantly tells him that he is useless in everything except chores. She constantly works him like a dog. Because of this, Carlos always kicks himself, and Mal noticed his behavior as well in Isle of the Lost.

He can sometimes be a little naive. Carlos doesn't always take a hint in some situations. He doesn't always understand some things, but because of his friends and family, he is eventually able to catch up with the others. Sometimes he is able to understand the situation in a deeper way, making him even more valuable to Mal, Evie, and Jay.

Verses:

Runt of the Isle: Carlos on the Isle of the Lost

Free to Be: Carlos in Auradon

Road Less Traveled: any AU threads

#muses #(carlos de vil) good really is more powerful

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raleighliving · 4 years

Text

Pros and Cons of College Life in Raleigh

Last time I wrote about colleges in Raleigh generally and how it’s not like other college towns. This time, I’m gonna be speaking a bit more about the pros and cons so it should be a little more specific.

Before that, however, I wanna make this clear: Raleigh is not somewhere you should move to for college unless the school you’ve applied to is your dream school.

In terms of academics, there are better choices than NC State or WPU. If you wanna study biology or medicine, schools like UNC-W or Duke would probably be a better fit for instance. If you live in Raleigh, don’t pick a school just because it’s close; if you live in another part of the states and you want to attend an east coast school there are options all along the east coast that you should consider.

Raleigh is a great place to live and work, and there are plenty of friendly people here; but a degree from the right university can make or break your career (depending on the field and other aspects of course).

As a person suffering from anxiety, the question “Do you want the good news or bad news first” has always been a terrible one for me. Up until I hear the bad news, it could be literally anything regardless of what the person asking was doing or how much of the task they were on I’m familiar with.

Similarly, living in Raleigh (or really anywhere for that matter) is going to present a lot of subjective pros and cons. Please keep in mind this is gonna be super subjective, but I hope you enjoy reading this even if we disagree.

But you didn’t come here to read three paragraphs of disclaimer. So lets start by listing the good stuff.

Raleigh is a city full of vibrant color, culture, and cool shit. You can find cool things almost anywhere you look, regardless of where you are in Raleigh. I mean, all of the pictures (including those in this article) I use for this blog I’ve taken in Raleigh or nearby it. As a result, the first pro has got to be the beltline highway system.

The beltline is a highway system composed of I-440, I-40, and parts of I-540 that encapsulates all of Raleigh. It connects north and south Raleigh while having downtown in the center, letting travelers easily reach nearly any part of Raleigh.

I’ve lived on the border of Durham, Cary, and Rolesville at different points in my life. I’ve had to make trips to Garner and Apex for various reasons. At no point in my 20+ year stay have I ever had to make a city trip that lasted longer than a half-hour (one way). It makes working in Raleigh especially easy, since the abundance of highway access points and the convenience of the loop design means I’m never too far from that loop.

It even helps with adjusting to your new environment if you move here (for school or other reasons) since if you’re ever lost, the highways can act as a point to re-orient yourself by. I know I’ve had to do it plenty of times in the past, and it can really save you from looking like an idiot if you excuse your lost-ness by just saying “Oh yeah mate, I was just tryna get on the highway. Saves so much time.”

Does this mean Raleigh has the best transportation network of any city? Hell no. Does this mean that Raleigh has the best highway system? Not even close. But it’s still super nice, especially for students. You’ll run into the problems any urban place has like rush hour or crash delays, but this is mitigated by the fact you’ll be using it for our second pro: Everything happens in Raleigh.

Well, not EVERYTHING everything but as I’ve ranted about before; there’s plenty to do and see in the city of Raleigh (even if you’re a student).

For instance, according to raleighnc.gov, Raleigh is home to over 200 public parks. Not a fan of parks? Into more electronic entertainment? Then visit our very own “Arcade of Thrones” downtown and get your game on with your fellow nerds

Boring stuff like restaurants and night clubs aside, Raleigh is home to literally thousands of businesses and social clubs for you to partake in. Farmers markets, gun and knife shows, fishin’ holes and public church barbecues are available for that classic southern charm; but don’t forget to make use of our barcades, art festivals, concerts, comedy clubs and sport centers.

The only reason why I’m not going into more detail about examples like First Friday, the downtown cultural festivals, PNC arena or other more specific events is because I want to write about them in-depth in the future.

Of course, students having things to do and places to go is only part of the college experience. If you’re gonna come to Raleigh for college, the best pro I could possibly mention is the support network.

Not to say that we’re exactly all one big happy family here, but in Raleigh you get that nice blend of metropolitan city life with your rural state. Orgs like the LGBT Center, Goodwill, Raleigh Missions, and more support locals in need constantly and provide for the many different groups around here.

Libraries and civic centers share the same city as mosques and churches which neighbor women's shelters and LGBT+ advocacy groups. If you’re a republican or democrat, that’s fine but be prepared to meet the other members of the political spectrum since groups like the Democratic-Socialists of America (DSA) are active downtown as well.

If you need help or want to help others, there’s a 98% chance that you’ll find someone or something out there that meets your needs. Join a community through Facebook or Nextdoor and you’ll see every diaper drive, garage sale, and community recommendation pop up whenever one is needed.

Of course, this brings us to our first con. Raleigh may be home to some of the nicest people I’ve ever met but it doesn’t mean you won’t run into some problem people sooner or later.

There’s of course the typical collegiate douchebags, the upper-middle class young scions of no import who fumble through life with no regard for others because mommy and daddy will perpetually care for them, but being a red state you’ll also run into the more colorful republicans.

Every year there’s an anime convention called “Animazement” downtown and every year there’s a small herd of fundamentalist Christians warning all the otaku who’ll listen that they’re going to hell. Drive around town long enough and you’ll find a few different businesses that have made their opinions on things like masks and social distancing clear, not to mention there’s no shortage of QAnoners and alt-right sympathists.

Of course, you shouldn’t let others dictate the quality of your life or the area you live in but you should be aware that these people exist. Raleigh is more liberal than other parts of North Carolina for sure but it’s not the leftist paradise those other parts would say it is.

Other than the coinflip that is neighbors, Raleigh is kind of a pricy place to live. The cost of living is on average higher than other cities in the US, cheaper still than New York of Californian cities, but pricey nonetheless.

Rent in Raleigh for a one bedroom apartment is on average $975 according to bestplaces.net and can go as high as $1200 depending on the complex and location.

That, with a federal minimum wage of $7.25 an hour, means you’ll need

>Multiple jobs >Multiple roommates >A good paying job

or any combination of the two to be able to afford rent, utilities, and food beyond cup ramen. There’s housing programs like Section 8 and military housing initiatives to help, but for students you’re looking at some pretty steep housing costs for anywhere that’s not student dorms.

You can get a good job that pays decent, of course, nothing’s impossible. However, finding one that won’t require roommates would demand full time hours (which might be difficult to make on student scheduling) or a degree (which you’re probably at college to get). Most living spaces require you make at least 3x the advertised rent to even be considered as well, which may limit students to seedier student living complexes like University Village or The Proper (Formerly Vie, formerly wolf creek).

Finally, if you move to Raleigh for college be prepared to drive. A lot.

As I mentioned earlier, the beltline is a god send for students and people looking to explore; but it’s also practically mandatory for moving around Raleigh. Public transit in Raleigh isn’t non-existent but it’s pretty damn close.

Live between 10-15 minutes from your desired destination? Taking the bus is gonna be anywhere from half an hour to a full hour, and that’s if you even live near a bus route. If you’re like myself and habitually on the edge of Raleigh, be prepared to drive for a bit before you even see a GoRaleigh bus let alone a stop.

The buses do at least run pretty late (Closing normally around 11PM), but the lack of public transit lines and bike-able roads means that you’ll be adding to the urban congestion more likely than not.

Okay with driving? Hope you’re okay with paying another arm and a leg, because at most schools down here tuition doesn’t cover your parking pass.

NC State prices range from $105 to over $400 depending on your credit hours and where you’re staying at. Other schools like William Peace only charge a flat $130 for their parking decal, but most of the schools require you throw them an extra Apple Pencil or two for the privilege of being able to park your own vehicle close to the actual campus.

There are workarounds, like parking off-campus nearby, but those carry risks and penalties that can add up over time. The audacity these schools have to take thousands in tuition and then demand that you pay and additional fee to just use the parking lot.

Hopefully, though, regardless of my thoughts if you live in Raleigh or North Carolina in general and you’re considering attending one of the fine establishments here; I’ve provided you some food for thought.

College can be a scary experience for many, and the area around it can really make or break your experiences. We don’t have the biggest party schools or the most glamorous cityscape; but if I had to go through the collegiate system again I honestly couldn’t imagine doing it anywhere else.

Next time I’ll be talking about some alternatives to College though, so stay tuned for that.

Special shout out to the DSA of Raleigh as well. They didn’t help write any of this or communicate with me during the production of this article, but they’ve been doing some amazing work downtown with the homeless during the pandemic. They are some of the most amazingly hard working individuals who care immensely for the community and you can check them out on dsanc.org.

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chicagocityofclans · 4 years

Photo

Isaac Baker → Daniel Kaluyaa → Wolf

→ Basic Information

Age: 66

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Born or Made: Made

Birthday: March 22

Zodiac Sign: Aries

Religion: Agnostic

→ His Personality Isaac was never the biggest or strongest in life. He grew up as the nerd who got pushed around and shoved into lockers. He was smart and cocky but didn’t have the skills to back up all the shit he talked. Until he was turned into a werewolf, and the natural personality that lived inside him came out in an obnoxious amount. Though Isaac has matured with his years as Alpha, he is still an impulsive showoff. He likes being the center of attention and making people laugh and have a good time. He can be confrontational and aggressive when dealing with situations, generally acting first before thinking of all the emotional consequences, especially with his words. Despite the rambunctious and loud behavior, Isaac is very genuinely a good person. He cares about his pack and everyone who he considers his. He is confident and lively, being incredibly welcoming and open to new pack members and other species. And though he can act impulsively and without thought, he has learned to recognize larger situations and has become versatile in the way he handles official pack business.

People often forget just how smart Isaac is, which he uses to his advantage. He is able to size a person or situation and up and manipulate it to his advantage. In the constant fights he faced as a young, incoming alpha he learned to find the weaknesses in the wolf shifter and attack those first, often knocking his opponent out before they could get many blows in. His foresight is not limited to fights, he could see all the advantages in bringing Duke into his pack and leapt at the opportunity.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Full time Alpha

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Smart Technology and Salt and Vinegar chips

Two Dislikes: Football and Curacao

Two Fears: Flying and Losing control of his body

Two Hobbies: Playing Video Games and Coding

Three Positive Traits: Lively, Versatile, Good Hearted

Three Negative Traits: Confrontational, Show Off, Impulsive

→ His Connections Parent Names:

Sandra Baker (Mother): Sandra was always incredibly supportive with Isaac as a child. She tried her best to make his young, friendless life fun with family movie nights and vacations. She is very disappointed that Isaac dropped out, and wishes he’d come home to get back on the academic track.

Edward Baker (Father): Edward taught Isaac everything he knew about boxing and coding. He always had Isaac’s back and would let him get out and fail every once in a while, unlike his mother. Edward has always asked about the real reason Isaac left school. He knew how much MIT meant to him and how he’d never just give it up.

Sibling Names:

None.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Simone Campbell (Ex-Girlfriend): Isaac was a goner for Simone. She stood up to him and often gave him perspective on his life. When Simone started hanging out with a hyena, it raised an alarm in Isaac and he tried to get her to stop seeing her, she dumped him. He still wants her back.

Platonic Connections:

Duke Thornton (Good Friends): Isaac and Duke have had a lot of time to get to know each other in the last decade. He is the closest person to Isaac in the pack, and would gladly have him as a second or third if he had any understanding of dominance levels.

Peter Knox (Friends): Isaac is very glad to have Peter as his second. They both had to fight their way through to their positions and he knows Peter has his back. He hangs out with him and his mate regularly at ANON and he was the one who introduced Isaac to Simone.

Leah Philips (Friend): He and Leah became quick friends when he first moved into Chicago, but she had a rough time transitioning from Ogden to Isaac. They’re almost back to where they used to be, though it has taken work.

Selene Andris (Pack mate): Selene has been a big help with all the new wolves coming to Chicago. He’s grateful she likes playing host and helping others feel more comfortable in the pack.

Ronan Cleirigh (Ally): He and Ronan made a deal to save Duke’s life. He offered him training and a pack while in return Ronan offered his voting power in council meetings. Isaac respects what the Cleirighs, and Ronan in particular, were trying to do for Duke.

Kaylor Cleirigh (Friendly Fear): Kaylor came to him personally after he offered to help Duke to lay down her “concerns”. Isaac wasn’t going to do anything on the list before, but he sure as hell wouldn’t do it after speaking with the scariest Cleirigh.

Judson Cleirigh (Chill): Judson comes in with his friends to drink at ANON. He is easily the most laid back of Duke’s family, though he doesn’t entirely trust him.

Nick Hamelin (Okay): He’s not friends with Nick, per say, but he’s ok with him. He thinks he can fit right into the Prisses at times, but he has more self-awareness than to sink that low.

Micah Toll (Friendly Acquaintance): Micah is alright for a rat. He respects the rules that Isaac put down, and only starts something in retaliation.

Ellis Watts (Council Meeting Buddy): Though he is apparently supposed to hate the jackals for reasons… Isaac immediately clicked with Ellis. He repaired a lot of the riffs between their two packs and they’ve started going to watch sports games together.

Hostile Connections:

Alan Thomas (Hates): Alan Thomas was one of the first people Isaac wiped the floor with and he’s gone out of his way to be the biggest asshole to Isaac. He’s glad he was kicked out as third.

James Shaw (Hates): James Shaw is both crazy and racist. He’ll talk endlessly about his family and how long they’ve been in the city and why his boys should be Alpha. Before Isaac wrote it off as an angry white dude, but there is something changing in James’s eyes and Isaac isn’t sure it is entirely healthy.

Clara Fields (Priss 1): Clara Fields loves nothing more than to hear herself talk. She somehow always speaks up at every single meeting, and Isaac prays for the day she gets magical laryngitis.

Chris Bialar (Priss 2): Chris Bialar has got his nose in the air. There’s always some made up jab that he tries to angle at Isaac. He loves to keep the politics up in the council meeting, and is a main for most of the riffs between alphas.

Percy McCormick (Priss 3): Percy McCormick is barely an alpha. He lets his pack run wild and the rest of the council is left to discipline and rule them. If there is one alpha that Isaac could kick out, it’d be him.

Greer Finley (Dislike): Greer is like Chris’s pet piranha. He thinks she might be more vicious than any of the other big cats in the pack.

Sol Alfaro (Hates): This guy will just not give it up. He’ll never win a fight against Isaac, and is honestly more of a pest than any real threat.

Pets:

None

→ History Isaac was raised in a small town outside of Ann Arbor. His mother worked as a recruiter for the University of Michigan while his dad worked at Pfizer. They had a good life, and he definitely followed in his parents’ academic footsteps, unfortunately that wasn’t the best for a young Isaac. He was constantly bullied by older kids which lead to fights and mostly injuries for him. His mother debated homeschool, while his dad tried to teach him how to fight back. His dad ended up winning and Isaac took boxing lessons. While he was technically very skilled, he was short and had difficulty packing muscle on which still let the bullies win.

By the time he graduated, he was ready to get the hell out of Ann Arbor, much to his mother’s displeasure. He was offered a full ride to MIT for computer software and gladly took it. He did well for the first year, high grades with honors. His parents were over the moon and became more willing to consider MIT being the best move for Isaac. However, his sophomore year changed everything. Isaac was walking home from the lab one night when he felt eyes on him. He assumed it was someone trying to take his bag; but when he turned around, arm ready for a hit, he was met with fur and painfully sharp teeth.

When he awoke he was in strange sweatpants and in a strange room. A man came in the room a few minutes after Isaac woke up. He explained they were werewolves, and that they needed to boost their numbers for an impending war. Isaac was quickly brought in on how to be a werewolf, including physical and fight training as well as how to control his wolf. But Isaac knew when he was being played and could see the alpha thought he was fodder for the battle. He read the situation and in the middle of the night Isaac ran away. He debated going back to Ann Arbor, but realized that might be the first place his “pack” looked. So he headed straight for Chicago, knowing he could probably get a decent paying IT job with his year at MIT. When he arrived in Chicago he was greeted to a fair deal of hostility. The majority of the pack didn’t want outsiders bringing their trouble into the city, and they specifically didn’t want him, a black loudmouth, interrupting their lives. But Isaac was a fighter and within 6 months he found himself as 2nd to the Chicago pack. There was a lot of grumbling, but Ogden acknowledged his position and gave credence to the claim. He took Isaac under his wing and refined the wild chaos that was a freshly turned wolf and gave him structure and purpose and place to put his energy.

Years later after getting settled in Chicago, Ogden died in a car crash. It was truly an accidental and ironic way for a wolf to die; not from old age, or violence but a mundane accident that went terribly wrong. Isaac had to step up to the plate and take over as alpha. They looked to him in their time of mourning, confusion, and fear and Isaac managed to win some of their trust. However not everyone was pleased with a relatively young and often arrogant alpha. He was challenged frequently, especially by Sol, but beat them all through his ability to read weaknesses. Isaac was never afraid to let them tire themselves out before going for the win. The fighting and challenges began to slow, and eventually things became more even keeled. That was until he began switching up ranks. Peter Knox joined his pack and fought his way to the top, a move that could never have happened had Isaac not thrown his support behind him. Then Geri became third, sufficiently pushing the rest of the “Old Guard” out.

Things had begun to settle down when” the Incident” occured. Animal shifters were unable to change to or from whichever form they were in. People were pissed and looking to the Witch and Warlock councils. While the first two meetings were spent grandstanding by the other alphas and leaders, Isaac was trying to read the faces opposite them, when the true reason for the magic gone bad came out. Deucalion Thornton was cursed to be a wolf shifter and they were trying to change him back. Outrage from both magic users and non magic users alike erupted and calls for banishment and possible death flew around. Nothing was decided and they adjourned for the day. Isaac hung around and stopped the Cleirighs as they exited. He offered Ronan a deal, he’d train Duke, allow him safety within his pack, in exchange for Ronan’s vote in various animal shifter matters. Ronan agreed and they devised a plan. At the next meeting before any other alpha could talk, Isaac stepped up and told them what was happening. It was settled and the rest of the council fell in line. Duke moved into the house, and Isaac nearly had a riot on his hands.

From that day forward he’d made it his mission to set things right in at least the wolf clan. No more of their racist, sexist or homophobic nonsense would be allowed, and every wolf had the right to a challenge. This came in handy when he gave his support to Peter after he’d risen through the ranks. He has kept the pack steady over the last ten years and despite the upset had no challenges to his position. → The Present Isaac is looking to get back onto the dating scene. He was recently dumped by his girlfriend, and while it stung initially, he is worried for her. She’d begun to befriend a couple of hyenas and he’s worried she’ll be attacked in the wave of changes that are happening across the city. Isaac knows her aspirations and is positive she’ll never achieve them if she’s bitten. Despite his worry, Isaac hasn’t mentioned any of the supernatural to her, and is just trying to get back in her good graces to keep her safe.

Murmurs of discontent are rising in the pack, and Isaac is positive it is due to Sol. He is losing his patience with the old wolf and the next time he challenges Isaac, he won’t let it go. Isaac knows he’s the one pushing the wolves towards greatness and it’s annoying that no one else seems to see it.

#Isaac Baker #Taken #daniel kaluuya #isaac owens

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