#there’s such fondness here in the way he says Roy here even though he’s disappointed
Text
a calm surrender II Roy Kent
Plot: Roy doesn't love her. In fact, he finds her irritating above anything else. And yet he manages to tell her in so many different ways.
Pairing: Roy Kent x female reader
Warnings: A lot of swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Reader takes Keeley's spot in some plot points - no disrepect to her though she's my favorite.
Notes: This is inspired by a "100 ways to say I love you" List. It’s 8.3k words, It's a big one.
Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please
"It's enough for this restless warrior
Just to be with you"
Take my jacket, it’s cold & You can have half
She’s irritating. Everything about her manages to get under his skin. The way she’s always smiling that big radiant smile of hers or the perpetual scent of jasmine and vanilla that seems to follow her anywhere. She laughs too loud, she’s a terrible driver and even worse at parking. The music coming from the physio room is mostly cheesy 80s and 90s pop songs that make Roy want to give himself a lobotomy. She’s irritating in every which way you look at it — and maybe that’s the exact reason why Roy can’t keep himself from looking at her.
Tonight is no exception. For some inexplicable reason, his eyes manage to find her across the room and in the crowd, every single time without fail. It’s not like it’s a conscious choice on his part either. It just happens. That sparkly green dress of her’s just seems to call out to him like the damn light across the bay at the Buchanan’s dock.
And the worst part is that she noticed. She caught his eyes on her more than once, even had the audacity to smirk back at him. During the auction, for a small moment, he thought she might bid on him when her hand just barely twitched and her eyes held a sense of infinite mischief. She didn’t though and for a second he could feel a string of disappointment pull at his heart. Not because he wanted her to bid on him or anything, he just wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of having to spend time with Cheryl Barnaby.
He managed to find her across the room all night — except for right now. Everyone’s on the dance floor. Keeley, Jamie, Ted, even Beard. But not her.
No one’s paying attention to him right now, if he were to just slip out of here, no one will notice.
It’s not like he wanted to be here in the first place. Sure, raising money for underprivileged children is something honorable and he would never let his own disdain for overly glitzy social events get in the way of doing the right thing. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though.
Emptying his glass with one last sip he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and steps out into the chilly air of a London night.
It’s funny, really, how the moment he stops searching, the green light calls back out to him and she steps into his vision. A glowing beacon of refuge, guiding ships through dark nights to safe shores.
The cold air nips at her skin, sharp and vicious and Roy doesn’t even have to get any closer to her to notice that she’s shivering. He can barely suppress the urge to roll his eyes at her. Of course, she’s cold, she’s only wearing the dress and some flimsy chiffon scarf thing around her shoulders. That’s gonna do fuck all to shelter her from the cold. Irritating. She’s so irritating.
The most irritating part though, is that he can’t help but slip out of his suit jacket. The most irritating part is that he can’t help but care.
“Take my jacket, it’s cold.”
There it is again, that smile of hers. The one he sees sometimes when he’s about to fall asleep. How ridiculous, he thinks, how foolish of him. How absurd it is to fall asleep to the image of a smile belonging to a girl that annoys him more than anything and anyone. (Except maybe Jamie).
“Are you — are you talking to me? Little old me? Are you being nice to me?”
“Jesus fuck, don’t make it weird. I’m always nice.”
She giggles and it’s bloody adorable. So adorable that a smile threatens to pull the corners of his lips upwards. See? Fucking irritating.
“You hardly talk more than 3 words to me when you’re in the physio room but — okay. If that’s your version of nice.”
“Take the jacket or not, I don’t care. I’ll let you freeze out here if you’re trying to be difficult. Means fuck all to me.”
That’s not true. They both know it. No matter how much Roy tries to deny or hide it, there is a soft heart buried inside the rough exterior. He just can’t risk showing that to everyone. Can’t have people getting the wrong ideas.
“No, please I — sorry I’m just — you make me nervous and when I’m nervous I talk a lot and then most of what comes out is just stupid nonsense or deflecting humor or something. I would really appreciate that jacket. It really is fucking freezing.”
Roy has been in the public eye for years now, he’s used to people being intimidated, nervous. Usually, it’s strangers though, people who don’t know him. Those that do, that work with him, usually lose that feeling pretty quickly.
“Why the fuck would I make you nervous?”
She just glances at him before turning her face back towards the street “Have you seen yourself?”
He’s not sure how to take that. Is it a compliment? Does she think he’s handsome? It’s not like it matters to him really. In fact, the thought that she might find him attractive is — say it with me — fucking irritating.
He contemplates asking her outright if this is something she does on purpose. If she’s deliberately trying to rile him up. The words are on the tip of his tongue when he notices her shiver once again and all that was on his mind vanishes against the desperate need to keep her warm.
“Jesus. Let me just — “
Jasmine. Vanilla. He smells it when he slips the jacket around her shoulders. He wonders if his jacket will smell like that, like her, when he gets it back. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Not because it’s her or anything — just because it smells fantastic and Roy is not one to deny himself the simple pleasures in life.
“I really appreciate it, Roy.”
And the gratefulness with which she says it is not irritating at all. It’s endearing. It’s flutters-in-his-tummy kind of wonderful.
Instead of reacting like a normal, reasonable person with a simple “you're welcome”, he gives her one of his signature grunts. That’s as good a normal reasonable reaction as anyone can expect from him, really.
“What are you out here all by yourself for anyway? Trying to get kidnapped or something?”
“No,” there it is again, the giggle. Ugh. “ I’m waiting for my Uber. He’s — “She checks her phone, illuminating her face with the harsh blue light. He thinks she looks wonderful either way. Then scolds himself for thinking it. Some simple pleasures he has to deny himself. “ 12 minutes away.”
Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He helps out his sister, he gives in to all of Phoebe’s wishes even if it means having to play the princess yet again and never getting to be the dragon. He donates more money to charity than the press is aware of, leaves hefty tips whenever he goes out to eat and though he does swear a lot, he still tries to be polite if he can.
He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let a woman wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.
“Do you mind if I keep you company? Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive.”
A laugh tumbles from her lips. A step up from a giggle and god does it send shockwaves through his traitorous heart.
“The press would have a field day if that happened. I can see the headlines, ‘Football legend Roy Kent involved in the disappearance of Richmond sports physio’ and then they use a picture of you from like 10 years ago with the really bad long hair that makes you look a little sketchy.”
“I didn’t look sketchy.”
“You looked a little sketchy.”
Roy glances at her through the corner of his eyes. She really is a dream in forest green, the sequins, and rhinestones reflecting the street lights like little kaleidoscopes. He’s almost certain he’ll dream in shades of green tonight. He’s sure he’ll see her smiling face.
“You look beautiful.”
The words fall from his lips before he can stop them and it makes him want to put his head through a wall. Fuck.
“Thank you —” she replies bashfully, “do you want some sausage roll?”
In all the scenarios running through his head of how this conversation could’ve gone, this is not one of the outcomes he expected.
“What?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question.
“Do you want a part of my sausage roll?” she chuckles and pulls a brown paper bag from her sparkly clutch bag. “I wasn’t sure if they were gonna actually feed us or just serve us rich people portions so I brought backup. You can have half if you want.”
She breaks the flaky pastry in two and holds one piece out to him. Even her nails are painted to match the dress. If he was any worse a man he would risk it all for just one taste of her and whatever black magic she possesses that gets so deeply under his skin.
He is a better man than that tough, so he settles for a taste of the sausage roll.
“You’re a strange woman”
“Strange or smart?”
Taking a bite from the sausage roll, buttery and flaky and greasy, he must admit she has a point.
“Bit of both.”
“I can live with that.”
Silence settles upon them, well as silent as a London night can be. It feels weirdly comfortable. No expectations to be someone or do something. Just her and the city and the fucking Greggs sausage roll.
And — Elton John?
“Oh, I love that song!”
A string of pink lights adorns the top of the rikshaw as it turns the corner, loudly blasting Can you feel the love tonight. The driver catches sight of them and Roy can’t suppress the annoyed groan slipping its way out.
“Good evening can I interest you lovebirds in a — “
“No, fuck off!”
Elton’s voice gets quieter and quieter as the startled driver rides his rickshaw further away and back into the inky black of the night.
Lovebirds, he called them lovebirds. Thought the two of them were anything other than acquaintances. People pushed together by circumstances and coincidence. As if anything between them could ever happen. She’s already getting under his skin, sticks around his thoughts, and ghosts through his head without him ever giving her permission to do so.
She’s all he can think about lately and yes he knows it sounds repetitive but god it’s so damn irritating.
“I would’ve liked to hear the rest of the song.”
Roy scoffs “Figures.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
He turns to face her and, for the first time since he’s stepped out of the building and into this tiny bubble they’re sharing for just this fleeting moment, he looks at her. Really looks at her.
With her sparkly dress and her lips painted a deep red like candy apples. With flakes of the pastry sticking to her lower lip and his jacket wrapped around her looking almost like this is where it’s always belonged.
He’s never had a heart attack before, he wonders if this is what it feels like.
“You play the worst fucking music when you’re working in the physio room.”
“Uh — are you insulting my taste in music? Are you really out here insulting the legend, sir Elton John? The Lion King soundtrack is a religious experience, okay?”
He hates that he can clearly tell by the glimmer of mischief in her eyes that she is joking more than anything. He shouldn’t be able to tell. Mere acquaintances can’t do shit like that.
“No, in fact, it’s a pretty fucking great movie. It came out when my sister was a kid though and I had to watch that shit a million times. You know how traumatizing it is having to watch Mufasa die over and over again?“
She grants him a look of understanding and shrugs her shoulders in agreement “At least it’s not Frozen, eh? “
“I have a 6-year-old niece.”
Roy Kent has a lot of things in his life that he takes pride in. His career and talent, all the hard work he put in to be where he is today. He takes pride in being a good brother and a loving uncle and maybe even a good friend and leader.
Making her let out a snort as she laughs at his Frozen-induced misery? That might be his proudest achievement to date.
“I’m glad you find my suffering amusing.”
“What can I say? You’re a funny guy, Roy Kent. So funny in fact that I almost bid on you at the auction.”
He wants to let out the most guttural scream in the existence of mankind. She can’t just go ahead and say stuff like that. Not when he is trying so hard to keep their interactions at the most basic level. Not when she already haunts his dreams. She’s irritating, Roy. Not charming or lovable or — beautiful. Or maybe she is all those things but most of all she’s annoying and infuriating and — oh he’s so fucked.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Oh, well I’m just a measly sports physician. Don’t get me wrong, it's good money but I don’t really earn quite enough to throw thousands of pounds at a man to have him spend time with me.”
He’d do it for free. Hate every second of it, naturally. But he’d do it for free.
Can’t tell her that though. Never. So once again he just grunts.
A silver Toyota pulls up to the curb, effectively bursting their little bubble of comfort as the driver leans down to look out the window. “You (Y/N) ?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
She makes a motion to slip out of the jacket, only for Roy to step in and hold it closed, keeping it in place, wrapped around her, and shielding her from the cold.
“Keep it,” his voice comes out all rough and husky. More than usual. It’s probably the jasmine scent getting to him, clouding his every sense. “Don’t want you to freeze on the way home. Just give it back another time.”
“Oh, okay. Well, thanks again. Goodnight, Roy.”
He opens the door for her and closes it softly once she’s settled into the car. Roy tries so hard to be a good man, a good person but in that moment all he wants to do is be a little bit worse, just a little bit. Just enough to rip the door open again, pull her out of the seat and kiss her stupid.
Instead, he wishes her a good night and sends her off before stepping out into the night himself. There is a smile playing on his lips all the way home and it’s so fucking irritating.
I was in the neighborhood & It’s okay I couldn’t sleep anyway
The door leading to her apartment is bright red and there is a little white sign and the picture of a dog with huge fucking ears that reminds him of Gizmo from the Gremlins. It says “Beware of the dog — might cuddle you to death.”
It’s cheesy as hell. He loves it.
He’s not quite sure how he ended up here. Losing is never fun. Feeling yourself slowly becoming unable to do the things you love, the things you were good at, and actively playing a part in your team losing? That’s absolutely mortifying.
Of all the places he could’ve gone, all the people he could’ve seen — he ends up in front of her door. Red and shiny like her lips that night.
It’s almost 1am and all things considered, this is a really dumb idea. She’s probably asleep and waking her up would be fucking rude. He should just go and forget this ever happened instead of knocking on her door in the middle of the night. That’s what the rational part of his brain tells him at least.
Roy was never really good at listening to the rational part of his brain.
Tiny barks, no doubt belonging to the dog on the sign, echo through the hallway before the door swings open just enough for (Y/N) to look at him with tired eyes.
“Roy?”
“I was in the neighborhood I — I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”
It’s not a lie, really. He was in the neighborhood. He walked here specifically to knock on her door and see her.
“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”
Now that is most definitely a lie. Her eyes are sleepy, her hair disheveled and he can just about make out the pillow print on her cheek.
“Do you want to come in?”
He does. He shouldn’t but he really does.
The apartment is small but it feels cozy rather than cramped. The walls are lined with pictures, little reminders of happy moments and people she loves.
There’s one of him too, well him and Isaac and Sam and then her at the end of the line. He thinks it was taken at some get-together after a particularly hard-fought win. He likes to know that there’s a picture of him on her wall even if his appearance in the photo is probably more incidental than anything.
“I didn’t know you had a dog.”
It’s a stupid thing to say, there is so much he doesn’t know about her. He doesn’t know where she was born or if she has siblings or if she always wanted to be a physiotherapist. But there are things he does know, like the specific way she likes her coffee and that she always gets a snickerdoodle cookie from the bakery down the road from the stadium, every Wednesday without fail. How she scrunches up her nose when she’s frustrated and that she snorts when something makes her laugh really hard.
“His name is Yoda. He’s a papillon and also my best friend.”
“Don’t let Sam hear.”
“Oh, he’s also Sam’s best friend.”
Yoda, it’s a fitting name. He does look like a Yoda.
“So what brings you here, Roy? At uh — “ she glances towards her open kitchen and the digital clock on the microwave “ 1:04 am?”
Should’ve gotten his story straight before he came here. What is he supposed to say? I felt like proper shit and wanted to see your smile? Surely not.
So he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.
“Came to get my jacket back.”
Absolute dumbass.
“Your jacket? Oh uh. sure. Let me go get it.”
She regards him with confusion and curiosity, he can tell she’s not really buying his story.
“Or, if you aren’t in a rush, I was about to pop in a movie and pig out on some popcorn? Do you want to join me?”
This might be the first time he lets her see the smile she continues to put on his face.
“Fuck yeah, what are we watching?”
“Vernon is such a little bitch. Antagonizing fucking teenagers? What a loser."
“Right?,” (Y/N) agrees, taking a sip from her glass of rose before stuffing another handful of buttery popcorn into her mouth. “Bender needed someone to care, not just another adult yelling at him. "Such a loser. Hey, now that I think about it, you do give me John Bender vibes. All broody and mysterious.”
Roy just scoffs in response.
Her eyes fall onto his empty glass of wine resting on the little square table in front of the couch.
“You want a top-up?”
“No, I’m good. I should probably get going.”
He hates to admit it, it’s something he’ll take to the grave with him, but there’s something about rosé that gets to him. It makes him tipsy immediately. He doesn’t want to go home but the longer he stays the more he opens himself up to saying something stupid and fucking this up — whatever this is.
“Did you walk here?”
“Mmh.”
“Oh well I can’t in good conscience let you walk home, half a bottle of rosé in your system and dealing with all the emotions brought on by the breakfast club. Couldn’t live with myself if you got snatched up and I was the last person to see you alive”
Throwing his own words back at him should be infuriating, annoying. It isn’t. It’s lovely. She’s lovely.
“You can stay if you want. My couch isn’t the biggest but I think you’ll fit just fine.”
The sincerity in her eyes hits him like a dart to the chest. It’s something so simple as offering him her couch for the night but it means everything for a man who has grown so awfully accustomed to loneliness.
“If I stay, will you make me breakfast?”
“Fuck no”
Laughter fills the tiny living room and it takes him a second to realize it’s his own.
“I might be up for a Starbucks run tomorrow morning before work though.”
“Sounds great. I love peppermint lattes, those are fucking delicious.”
She grants him another smile as she gathers their glasses and the empty bottle and brings them to the kitchen before returning with a fluffy pink blanket for him. He thinks that smile could’ve just about killed him, thinks he might just die right here on her couch and it wouldn’t be so bad.
“Well goodnight, then. Hope you don’t mind Yoda”
The dog is curled up on Roy’s chest like a little bagel. It’s gonna be annoying later, he’s sure but hell will freeze over before he disturbs the little pup.
“That’s fine.”
“He snores, just thought you should know.”
“Makes two of us then, hope he doesn’t mind.”
Another laugh. Another tiny heart attack.
She’s by the door, just about to turn off the light and plunge the room into darkness, when she hesitates for a moment.
“Hey Roy,”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry you guys lost today and I — I can see you struggling but I just wanted you to know that it was not your fault. I need you to know that.”
The entire way here, he tried to make himself rationalize that. Make himself understand that losing is part of the game and that he did his best. But knowing your best might not be good enough anymore is a hard fucking pill to swallow.
Hearing her say that it’s not his fault, it takes the weight off for a moment. Not all the way, never all the way. But a tiny little bit and that’s a whole lot already.
“Goodnight, (Y/N).”
“Night, Roy.”
He falls asleep with the taste of rosé on his tongue, the snoring of a little dog in his ears, and the sight of her on his mind, all sleepy eyes and messy hair. She never looked better.
It looks good on you & I like your laugh
He’s positively buzzing with euphoria. They won, something no one thought was possible. They won and he scored the winning goal.
Spirits are high as the team and their friends have taken over the Karaoke place. Shots and drinks flow with no regard to the tab they’re raking up or the headache that awaits each of them tomorrow. None of that matters right now. Tonight is made for celebrating. Consequences don’t exist right here and now.
Rebecca burns the house down with her rendition of let it go and after a short intermission by Dani, singing a Spanish song that neither of them managed to join in with their non-existent knowledge of the language, the opening chords to another familiar song fill the room.
“Well, thanks for making us all look like amateurs, Rebecca,” (Y/N) says into the microphone as she takes her place on stage. Her words are laced with happiness and laughter and Roy thinks she must have him under some spell because he can’t manage to not smile when she’s around. It’s a bit ridiculous if he’s being honest.
“I will most definitely not be able to live up to that performance but I thought we could stay in the Disney bubble for a moment.”
Her eyes meet his across the room and when she winks at him it takes everything in him not to get up on stage and devour her. Fucking irritating.
“I know you all know this song so sing along if you feel like it. This one’s for you, John Bender.”
He knows it’s one of the cheesiest love songs ever, written for a movie about a cartoon lion. But sitting on the couch at the karaoke place surrounded by his team, having just scored a winning goal and listening to the girl that haunts his dreams sing straight to him and only him, he thinks Elton has a point. He can feel the love tonight. It’s in the smiles of his friends, and the voices coming together all chaotic and off-key singing along to the song. And there is love in her eyes, clear as day and undeniable.
“And can you feel the love tonight
How it's laid to rest?
It's enough to make kings and vagabonds
Believe the very best”
The night is coming to an end, everyone’s found their way to their respective rooms — or whoever’s room they felt like staying at. Roy’s pretty sure he saw Rebecca’s friend enter Ted’s room but that’s none of his fucking business, is it?
“Okay, you can’t laugh though!” (Y/N)’s voice calls out from the bathroom and drifts towards the main part of the room where Roy is perched on the chair by the window.
This isn’t his room and really he knows he shouldn’t be here. But being alone right now sounded like proper torture. He wasn’t ready to leave this magical night behind yet. Not like this. Not when she sang to him and he had nothing to give her in return. So when she invited him to her room to watch yet another John Hughes movie on Netflix, he couldn’t do anything but accept.
“Are you sleeping in one of those weird fluffy onesies?”
“No, god no.”
“Then I don’t know why I’d laugh at you.”
When she steps into the room, he can see why she’d think he’d laugh at her choice of sleepwear. The white shirt looks not so white anymore, there is a hole at the bottom and a mysterious red stain by the collar. It doesn’t make him laugh though. It makes him fucking hard. Because that’s his name on the back of it. That’s a 2014 world cup Roy Kent England Jersey.
“Fuck me.”
He doesn't mean to let it slip but alcohol and euphoria have made his lips go loose.
“I knoooow, it’s embarrassing. I meant to bring something else but it’s just so comfortable.”
“It looks good on you.”
It does. He thought the green dress was it. Then he thought she looked absolutely adorable, all sleepy and natural. But this? This is the look that pushes him over the edge. This is everything.
“Yeah?” she asks and twirls around the room, not unlike Phoebe whenever Roy gifts her yet another new princess dress. He’s just such a sucker, can never say no when she asks him for something. “You just wait and see, I’ll steal your job soon enough.”
That makes him erupt into laughter yet again, he doesn’t think he’s laughed quite as much lately as when he is with her.
“I’ve seen you attempt to play before. I’m not worried.”
“I like your laugh,” she says, all warm eyes and wistful smile.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
Something takes over, an invisible force pulling him to his feet and making him walk up to her. She’s leaning against the wall as he places one hand on her hip, the other on the wall next to her head. This shouldn’t be happening, he knows this. It’s dumb to believe that whatever tension there is between them can lead to anything. That’s just not in the cards for him no matter how much he wishes for it.
Girls like her don’t fall for boys like him. They never did, they never will.
“Roy Kent, you won today.”
Winning the game is the last thing on his mind right now. How could he ever think about winning right this moment when her hand is softly resting on his cheek and her nose gently nuzzling against his and the —
A knock on the door cuts through the moment making Roy let go and take a step back.
“Fucks sake.”
In his defense, Sam looks apologetic as he stands in front of the door, signature smile on his face. Good-natured and lovable. If this was any other moment Roy wouldn’t have been able to be mad at him. But this is that moment and he is a little pissed right now.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to disturb, I was just wondering if you had another phone charger. I can’t find mine and I know you always bring extra so — “
“Uh, yeah let me go get it real quick.” (Y/N) says and turns back towards the room.
Roy’s eyes connect with hers for a split second and it’s like a bucket of ice straight over his head. They both know whatever magical spell they had been under, it’s broken and gone and all that’s left now is a big old pile of what-ifs.
“It’s getting late, I should leave. Goodnight, (Y/N). Night, Sam.”
“We’ll reschedule, yeah?”
Tiny smile on his lips he nods his head in agreement.
He gets a soft “goodnight” in return and though he hates to admit it, the touch of her hand against his cheek lingers there all the way to his room and even further into his dreams.
Call me when you get home & We’ll figure it out
Rain pounds against the roof and windows like tiny bullets. A rainstorm has Richmond tight in its clutches so cruel and unforgiving the team can’t even train right now.
And yet for some reason Roy still finds himself in the workout room, trying to push himself to do just 5 more minutes on the treadmill. Just 5 more.
Actually, it’s not entirely true. He knows why he’s here. Part of him hopes that if he just pushes himself enough, he can overcome the pain in his leg and all the issues it causes. That if he just tries harder, he can go back to being the talented overachiever he used to be.
But it hurts. A sharp stabbing pain rushes through his knee forcing him to step off the treadmill. He hates this. In fact, it’s his worst fucking nightmare. Football is all he’s ever been good at, he can’t lose that. It’s his entire life.
If he’s not Roy the footballer, who is he? Some bloke named Roy with a dead career and no one to come home to? Now doesn’t that sound delightful?
"Roy?"
“Jesus, fuck!”
There she goes again giving him a heart attack, only this time it’s not because she’s being cute or anything.
“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The smile on her face falls as she catches sight of him holding onto his knee. He can almost see the thoughts running through her head. She knows about his knee. If anyone knows how bad it is, it’s her. She told him not to overdo it. Said that would only make it worse.
He knows she has pity on him and he hates it. It’s irritating coming from everyone. Irritating and misplaced. Why would they pity him? It’s his own damn fault for not being good enough anymore.
But coming from her? That’s even worse. No one wants a guy that’s getting too old to do his job properly. That’s falling apart and breaking.
— Not that he wants her or anything. Oh, Roy, who are you trying to fool here? Of course, he wants her.
“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”
She raises her eyebrow in disbelief, in that bratty way that drives him crazy.
“I said I’m fine, (Y/N).”
“I hear what you’re saying,” she says and comes to stand next to him, crossing her arms in defiance. “but I can also see the way you’re holding your knee and that face you’re making. You’re in pain, love.”
Love. He doesn’t hate how it sounds when she calls him that. Irritating for sure but also — sweet.
“I’ll be fine! What are you even doing here?”
He hasn’t seen a lot of her ever since the night in Liverpool and while part of him was quite glad about it because he honestly wasn’t sure whether or not to bring up whatever had or had not happened between them, another part of him had missed her smile desperately.
“I work here.”
“You’re a fucking smartass, aren’t you.”
“I try.”
Fuck, even when she’s being deliberately difficult she manages to pull a smirk from him.
“I had some paperwork to do but by the time I arrived here, the storm was so bad that now I have to wait for it to stop before I can drive home. I hate driving when it rains.”
“Oh you should,” Roy returns, nodding his head in agreement “You’re a horrible driver in the best of weather.”
She responds with a scandalized gasp and a hand placed on her heart in mock upset “I am not a horrible driver! Take that back.”
“It took you 18 minutes to park your car the other day. I know because I saw it, we all saw it. Boys took the time and had bets going. Jamie won 20 quid.”
“Wha — okay I’ll have to have a word with the guys, you’re ridiculous. But don’t think you can change the topic on me, Mister. Is your knee getting worse?”
Yes, and he fucking hates it. Can’t even say the words out loud because that feels like admitting defeat. And that’s a terrifying thing to do.
Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have to say anything. A look is all it takes and she nods her head in understanding.
“That’s okay, Roy. We’ll figure something out.”
We will figure something out. We as in him and her. Since pretty much the beginning of his professional career, Roy had admirers. People who would latch onto everything he did or said and hold him to abnormally high standards he would never be able to reach. They adored him but they also didn’t know him. She knows him even when he tries so hard to keep her at arm's length. She knows him and is still in his corner, still has his back. The only people who ever did that were his family.
It’s an unusual feeling but he really really likes it. Even if it’s a little terrifying.
“What if — “ he takes a deep breath, trying to form the words that weigh so heavy on his heart “What if I can’t go back to how it used to be? What if this is the end for me?”
“Do you want me to be honest or nice?”
“Lay it on me then.”
“Things might not get back to how they used to be and there’s not really much you can do about it other than learn to accept it and then figure out a new place for yourself.”
“Football is all I have.”
“That’s not true but even if it was there is so much more about it than just the players.”
She’s right but it’s still a bitter pill to swallow.
“…and with that smile of yours, you can always go into modeling. I’m sure they’re always looking for new faces in the toothpaste commercial business.”
“Oh fuck off.”
“See! There’s that smile I was talking about.”
“You’re fucking insufferable sometimes.”
She is. He adores it.
“Oh, but you like it — right?”
“What?”
“You do — like it? Like me?”
It’s the first time he’s seen her act insecure. She’s always so bubbly and happy and smiling, he hates that he put any doubt in her mind that he does anything but cherish her.
“You irritate me, woman. Drive me up the fucking wall, every day.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No! Don’t say sorry. I love it. I think you’re a fucking knockout. Best thing since sliced bread.”
He does, he truly does and it feels nice to say it out loud for once. To admit it to her and to himself. It feels nice when she comes closer and when she rests her arms around his neck and it feels fucking phenomenal when her nose brushes past his and he can almost feel her lips on his.
Almost.
That’s until her phone beeps and she pulls away altogether.
“Ah shit, I gotta go.”
“Fuck sake. The universe hates me.”
“The universe doesn’t hate you, Roy Kent. We just have bad timing. ”
He’s not convinced.
“What about the storm?”
“I think the rain stopped, listen.”
Roy hears nothing. Where raindrops were drumming against the roof and windows just minutes ago, there is silence. He’s never wished for a rainstorm to persist more than he does at that moment.
“Well, call me when you get home at least. Roads will still be wet.”
“Aw, Roy, are you worried about me?”
His lips say no, but his eyes and his smile tell a different story.
You can stay & Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?
This is it. This is the end. He’s seen this one coming for a while now but he tried so hard. He trained and pushed and it was all for nothing. They’re losing and his career as an active footballer is over for good.
The door to the locker room opens slowly, almost cautiously and he’s just about to yell and whoever dares to disturb him, when his head snaps up and he sees (Y/N) standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing here? Game is still going, you’re the fucking Physio.”
“Good thing there’s more than one of us. I have to make sure all my players are okay.”
I’m not okay. That’s what he wants to say. He wants to scream it from the rooftops. He’s not okay. He’s not sure he ever will be.
“Get out, (Y/N).”
She can’t see him like this. Defeated. Broken. Old.
Instead of listening to him, she sits down beside him and holds an ice pack to his injured knee.
“As a physio, I need to tell you that what you did was really stupid.”
He knows it was. It was a calculated risk he was willing to take and if nothing else, he kept Jamie from scoring and the fans appreciated it. That was all that mattered at that moment.
“But as a friend and Richmond fan, I think it was brilliant. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself in the process.”
Silence settles over them and (Y/N) is just about to get back up when he grabs onto her arm and pulls her back down. “You can stay.”
“Okay.”
And for a long while they just sit. No words, no expectations. Just them.
Softly, almost like a whisper, he feels her touch against his hand, sliding her fingers between his.
“Is this okay? Can I hold your hand?”
It’s not okay. It’s phenomenal. It’s everything he could’ve wished for in that moment but never would’ve had the nerve to ask. It’s a promise that he isn’t alone in this. There is someone there holding his hand through the darkest of times.
A green light guiding him to safe shores.
“Don’t you fucking dare let go.”
Stay there, I’m coming to get you & I can't wait for tomorrow
Turns out, retiring from a successful football career does not mean you suddenly have a lot of free time. In fact, Roy doesn’t think he’s ever been this busy doing shit he doesn’t like.
Everyone wants an interview, a statement, a “what happens next”. It’s a lot of paperwork and contracts and shit he doesn’t care about. The point is, he’s fucking busy. So busy he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in quite a few days. Nothing has really changed since their moment in the locker room but somehow everything feels different.
It’s exactly 4:12 am when his phone rings. He almost doesn’t want to answer but calls at 4am usually mean bad news and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to his sister or Phoebe or (Y/N) or even (and he will deny this if you ask him about it) Jamie just because he couldn’t be bothered to answer his phone.
“Hello?”
“Royoooo.”
Oh. Oh!
A smirk pulls at his lips.
“(Y/N)?”
“Sorry —” she says and stops for a giggle “Sorry to wake you. I just — I was out with the girls and I didn’t plan on drinking but I did. They had a buy one get one free deal. It would be stupid to say no, right?”
“Right.”
"So, yeah."
“Go on. Didn’t just call me to tell me about the drinks, did you.”
“Oh, no. I just wanted to talk to you while I wait for my Uber. I miss you.”
“Do you?”
“So much!” her words are slow and slightly slurred. “Every fucking day. Like — god, I just wanna see your stupid handsome face.”
“It’s handsome, innit?”
“You have no idea! I just want to kiss you, so badly.”
Kiss him. She wants to kiss him. Sure, it almost happened twice but it’s still different hearing her outright say it. But then again, she’s drunk and by the time she wakes up tomorrow, she probably won’t remember half of what she’s saying right now.
“Where are you?”
“It’s that weird little bar around the corner from Sam’s restaurant. The one with the green door.”
“Go on and cancel that Uber.”
“Then how am I going to get home?”
“Stay there, I’m coming to get you.”
Roy isn’t quite certain whether or not he considers himself a good person. He tries to be, it’s a conscious effort each and every day. He tries to be a good person and a good person doesn’t let the woman he’s absolutely head over heels for wait outside in the cold dark night by herself. No matter how infuriating she is.
“Okay,” she agrees, a giggle slipping past her lips “Thank you. Can’t wait to see you.”
And though Roy had other plans for his weekend than picking up a drunk girl at 4 in the morning, he also can’t wait to see her.
“…and like it was mostly sugar, right? So I thought why not have another one. Turns out it was mostly vodka.”
“Who could’ve guessed.”
She’s cuddled up on his couch in one of his shirts looking into his eyes and retelling her night in vivid detail. Her story is slurred and a bit all over the place, blame it on her tipsy brain. It takes her forever to get to the point and when she does, the point doesn’t even make all that much sense. It doesn’t matter, he’d listen to her ramble forever if it meant he got to spend time with her wearing his shirt sitting on his couch — looking into his eyes.
“You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”
“I know,” she shrugs then scoots closer to him and wraps her arms around his “but you’re here so it’s only half as bad really.”
“If I’m feeling generous I’ll even make you breakfast.”
“You really are the dream, Roy Kent.”
She’s clawing at his chest, prying open his ribcage and burying herself where his heart used to be. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
“You have to stop saying shit like that. People are gonna think you’re in love with me or something.”
She pulls away slightly and looks up at him with those big eyes of hers before resting one hand on his cheek.
“Roy, I am. I thought you knew.”
He had a hunch, of course. Fostered a spark of hope in his heart that there could be something between them after all. But once you grow accustomed to loneliness it’s a little hard to let yourself believe.
“Do I need to show you to believe me?”
She pulls his face closer to hers and for a millisecond he wants to let go, but when he smells the alcohol on her breath he pulls back. This isn’t right.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“You’re off your tits. I’m not kissing you like this. Our first kiss is not going to be some inebriated tongue-wagging. You hear me? I’m a hopeless fucking romantic, that kiss is gonna be special. I’m gonna kiss you stupid.”
She bites her lips to suppress the smile from taking over.
“So if I were to ask again tomorrow, you’d say yes?”
“Mh.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
At that she snuggles further into his arms and rests her head against his shoulder, a content smile on her face as she closes her eyes.
“Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
He doesn’t admit it, but neither can he.
I think you're beautiful & I’ll meet you halfway
“Roy?”
Her voice echoes through his house as the eggs sizzle on the stove.
“Why is there a small child looking at me?”
“Phoebe, stop staring at her you little creep!”
“She’s so pretty.”
She has a point.
10 minutes later the girls join him in the kitchen, walking in hand in hand and big smiles on their faces. Seeing them get along makes his heart grow approximately 12 sizes. That being said, the two of them teaming up against him sounds like trouble to him. Good trouble though. Trouble he loves to deal with.
“Good morning, Roy.”
“Morning. Pheebs, go sit down, breakfast is almost ready.”
“Okay, Uncle Roy.”
Once she’s out of the immediate earshot he turns back towards (Y/N). Though she tried her best to conceal it, yesterday's makeup is still smudged around her eyes and her hair is a downright mess. She’s wearing his shirt though, standing barefoot in his kitchen after bonding with his niece.
Sometimes life is fucking sweet.
“Don’t look at me like that, I know I look like a mess.”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
“You’re delusional.”
“That’s not what you said last night. Think you called me the fucking dream if I recall correctly. Said you were in love with me.”
(Y/N) leans against the kitchen island, her hands flat against the countertop and her eyes trained on Roy.
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
Roy mirrors her position, arms resting on the kitchen island across from her. God, she really is so beautiful.
“Remember what you said?”
“Do you?”
“You promised me something, Roy.”
Roy Kent doesn’t make promises lightly. He thinks there’s hardly anything quite as heartbreaking and awful as breaking a promise. He prides himself in keeping all the ones he’s made.
It’s only right to keep this one too.
“Phoebe,” he calls out to the little girl without moving his eyes away from (Y/N) for even a second “Blindfold!”
The 6-year-old slaps her tiny hands over her eyes obeying her uncle's orders with no hesitation and no questions asked. He’s proud of her. Silly little idiot.
Leaning across the counter, his lips almost reach (Y/N)’s. She’s so close. So close.
Only —
“Fuck, I can’t reach. My knee.”
There’s so much love in her eyes as she regards him. It almost knocks him out.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you halfway,” She says and gets up on her tiptoes.
Across the counter their lips meet. There are no fireworks or butterflies or an angel choir singing. But there is her tasting of toothpaste and smelling his deodorant. Her and the feeling of belonging. Of comfort and domesticity and love. He loves this woman, undeniably and irrevocably.
It’s a great kiss. Fucking mindblowing. There is no need for rom-com-induced fairytale fantasies when you have the real thing and it is so much better than any story could ever be.
“Hey Roy,” she whispers against his lips as they come up for air.
“Hmm?”
“The eggs are burning.”
“Fuck!”
“You owe me a pound, Uncle Roy!”
Irritating! Both of them.
They’re his whole entire heart.
I love you & I love you
“I love you.”
It’s a normal fucking Tuesday when she says it for the first time. Really says it. Using those exact words. There’s nothing special about that day but with those words, she puts magic into it. The way she puts magic into his life every single day.
“Fuck you!”
“Sorry, what?”
She’s laughing. She’s always laughing and smiling that goddamn smile that makes him go all soft inside. Beautiful, lovely, knockout that she is.
“I said fuck you. I’ve been thinking about how to tell you all fucking week and here you go and say it first. You’re infuriating.”
Softly she rolls over so she’s resting on his chest, fingers softly tracing patterns into his skin.
“You’ve said it a million times before, Roy.”
“I love you, (Y/N).”
Can’t hurt to say it again.
“I know. I knew. I always knew. From the moment you gave me your jacket.”
Of course, she knew. She took one look at him and it was like she got a view straight into his soul. Straight into his heart with all the vices and virtues, all his triumphs and defeats. All the good and the bad.
How fucking irritating. He loves her for it.
#roy kent x reader#roy kent x female reader#roy kent x f!reader#roy kent x fem!reader#roy kent fanfic#roy kent fanfiction#roy kent imagine#roy kent imagines#ted lasso tv show fanfiction#inbloomwriting
916 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mending a Family 33/?
Prev | Next
Yeah, I know, I'm late with this chapter but at least I got it done before Christmas
Jason took out the turkey and sat on top of the stove. He swiped his hand across his forehead and sat down, tired. How did Alfred cook for hours to feed so many people? Jason had only cooked for seven people, with help, and he was tired. Alfred must have the stamina of the gods. The cooking gods.
“Daddy, we finished setting the table,” Danny ran up to Jason. He picked up his son and put Danny on his lap. Danny looked cute wearing his little blue apron with rocket ships on it.
“That’s great, Danny. Let me get the turkey and put it out. Then we can start eating.”
Danny got off Jason’s lap, “What about the pies?”
Jason had put the pumpkin and pecan pie on the cooling rack. Danny was staring at them with hunger.
“Those are for after dinner.”
“Oh, c’mon, I want a piece now. Please,” Jason ignored his son’s puppy eyes and got the turkey.
“Later, chum.”
Danny pouted but went to the table. Raven and Jazz were talking. Ellie was thumping her little fists on the table of her high chair. Lian was giggling at whatever Roy was saying. Jason felt warm and fuzzy in his chest. His family was here to spend Thanksgiving with him. Him. The messed-up member of the Batfamily.
“Finally, the main course is here,” Roy said as he got up to take the turkey from Jason’s hands.
“Yay,” Lian cheered, “time to eat! I’m starving.”
They said grace and then dug in.
“Oh my god, this turkey is so good,” Roy said while chewing.
“Daddy, it’s rude to chew with your mouth open.”
Jason laughed into his cup. It was funny to see Lian scold her father.
“Sorry, sweetie, but it’s true.”
“Thanks, Roy. I got the recipe from Alfie.”
Jason took a bite of the turkey. It was almost as good as Alfred’s. Jason missed the older man. Would he be happy for Jason? Would Alfred accept Jason’s family?
“Everything okay, daddy?”
Jason looked at Danny and noticed that everyone was looking at him.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just thinking.”
Danny cocked his head and took a bite of food.
“After dinner, can we play in the snow?”
It had snowed the night before. Jason hadn’t liked the cold before, and it was worse now that he had a fire core. The cold seemed to irritate him. Not that he would tell Danny that.
“Sure, chum, after dinner.”
The rest of the dinner was spent laughing and eating. Every once in a while, though, Jason would get a pang in his chest. Every time he did, Danny would stare at him with knowing eyes.
Jason took a bite of pie and refused to catch his son’s stare.
____
Bruce Wayne looked at his family with fondness.
Thanksgiving had been a noisy but fun affair.
As usual, Alfred refused any help with Thanksgiving dinner, and, like always, it came out divine.
At the moment, his children, Stephanie, Barbara, and his granddaughter were laughing. Kori also came to the dinner to spend time with her daughter.
Duke started manipulating the shadows around him. Mar’i’s peels of laughter warmed his heart.
Bruce wondered how Jason would’ve interacted with Mar’i. Did he even know he had a niece? Bruce frowned. No, they had never told him. Jason loved children; why had they never told him about Mar’i?
In the beginning, it made sense, but as he started mellowing out…Why had Bruce not seen it earlier? His son could have returned to the family a long time ago if Bruce had taken his head out of his ass.
Now, Jason was gone, and his family was incomplete.
“Is everything alright, Master Bruce?”
“I should’ve brought him home sooner.”
“Hmm,” the butler hummed.
“It’s my fault. I thought I was doing the right thing, giving him his space. Instead, I was alienating him. As his father, I should’ve tried harder.”
He looked at Alfred, his surrogate father, “I’ll bring him home, one way or another.”
The butler looked a bit disappointed before sighing. He left Bruce alone. With a pang in his chest, he watched his incomplete family laughing.
Why did he feel left out?
Bruce was so close to having a full epiphany. He'll get there...eventually
@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
Everything I enjoyed about Ted Lasso 3x10
It was so exciting to watch them announce the players that got into their national teams
Laughed at Ted not knowing Bumbercatch is swiss
Appreciated the whole team being there for Sam when he was snubbed
I genuinely laughed out loud at all the jokes to do with Dani's personality change
When it cut from the title sequence to ted sitting down with rebecca for biscuits with the boss i really thought it was for real gonna be an OG one but then they panned to trent and i was disappointed but i couldnt even be mad because it was so funny
Ted is a LIAR we have seen him gossip so many times he is such nosy biddy 🤣
Trent loving getting a good grade in girl talk was so funny and cute!
"So chaps, what do we think?" was such a fun line to me for some reason
All 3 of them going "Nah" and making the same face, so fun!
Ted was saying such nonsense for the rest of that scene and they made sure to show us Rebcca's reactions to every single one and she looked so fond every single time
Of course Rupert is saved on Rebecca’s phone as "The Devil" she is so insane
I loved Keeley's green skirt suit
I laughed at Beard's 17 throwing axes that he brought to the UK with him 🤣
"Sneaking in here today reminded me of the first match I ever saw at Nelson Road." "Ah, when they used to play by candlelight." 🤣🤣
I was SO happy to see Phoebe, then happier still to see her mum! And Jamie is totally right, she is fit
That whole scene was an absolute delight, filled my heart with joy, the England kit! the E for U swap! the tie dye shirt with Roy colors! One thing I can say about this season is that things do tend to go great when Jamie is involved
I laughed at the doomed handshake at Sam's restaurant, he was so resigned to his fate 😅
Nate breaking into his parents house in the middle of the night because he felt lonely and lost reminded me of 13 Going on 30
I was happy to see Rebeccas Amsterdam pants again! Especially with that purple blouse 💜
I love that Higgins knows Keeley, Ted and Sassy are Rebecca's top options in that order and that this is unquestionable
Higgins' comparing Akufu to the Chocolate Factory kids was both very accurate and very funny 😆 "I hate to break it to you Rebecca, but those children are dead."
I really liked Rebecca being insecure about the meeting because she knows she's only been invited as a token. It felt true to life and also reminded me of a favorite moment from a beloved show of my past, The Good Wife, where a character expresses a similar concern and gets much the same advice as Higgins gave
I really thought Rebecca was taller than Higgins' office door and was momentarily scared she was going to bump her head on the way out 😆
I liked Keeley and Mae's conversation, though I, much like Keeley, did not understand the lightning saying 😅 did appreciated the little "Maybe" joke though, it felt like something Ted would do and I always love to perceive them mirroring each other
Everyone noticing Roy's cheerful t-shirt was very funny
I loved that we saw Rebecca studying for the meeting
THE!! TOY!!! SOLDIER!!!!!! She's been carrying it around!!! She is fond of it!!!!! She treats it with such care, and it still brings her strength, gosh!! To think of the moment she picked it up off the ground and stored it away, of whenever it was she decided to keep it with her as an amulet!!! I'm breathless!!!!!!!
Kenneth saying "twins" to Roy lmaooo
The fact that Rebecca has panic attacks is something that can be SO PERSONAL that meant so so SO much to me, I could cry just thinking about it, I've always been sure she did and to have it confirmed was a thrill, and so emotional and satisfying to me to see her self soothe and how it paralleled Ted, truly beautiful gorgeous amazing
Ms Bowen is blonde now! Idk why but that was exciting, I like her! I think Roy should introduce her to Beard, I feel like she could beat up Jane. It was also hilarious to me that they named her Leann for real 🤣 they have no shame!
Barbara's Juicy couture tracksuit and "I like clothes that tell the truth" LMAOOO COMEDY GOLD
Barbara and Keeley's snow globe exchange was delightful. Barbara slowly grew on me throughout the season and was a true highlight in this particular episode, I was very glad that she chose Keeley.
I love that Rebecca went to that meeting in a bbp top and one of her less murderous earrings
I appreciated seeing Rebecca in a professional setting, taking a stand, and going to bat for the club and for football in general, it's something I have always longed to see from her and I'm glad I got it even if it was late in the game
Really liked that Nate plays the violin
I liked the window into Rupert and Rebecca's past and the glimpse into why they were in love once
I liked the contents of Roy's letter to Keeley and thought it was funny that she couldn’t read his handwriting
It was exciting to see Rebecca at Keeley's house! She demanded a hug! She's going to fund Keeley's firm! Their friendship has stayed beautifully consistent throughout the season and I appreciate that.
Keeley writing down the number and saying "This is how they do it in the movies" was another Ted-like moment (down to Rebecca being endeared by it!)
I enjoyed the joke of Roy walking in when he did and I loved loved loved that he and Rebecca saluted each other again! I'd been waiting for that!!
I think Nate's apology to Will - how he did it, the score, the note with the sprig of lavender, how it was filmed - felt like such a season 1 moment that it filled me up with this sense of right-ness and I truly appreciated it. Possibly one of the best moments of the season 🥹
Rebecca looked so at peace hanging that painting and also SO beautiful in that dress
Ted sat down without being invited, and Rebecca scooched a little closer once he did 🥹🥹
She specifically wanted to tell him about this big emotional milestone and Ted looked? I have no idea how to describe it, but it was new, it was a face he's never made before, and it was so?? I don't even know, I don't know what to do with it, or with "I wanna win for us too."
Rebecca is truly insane for spitting on his face on purpose like that lmao
Aaaand that's it! I liked a lot of the bits and pieces of this episode as you can see, and I had a mostly good time while watching it. There were a couple big things that bothered me though, but I'll save those for a different post later in the week once I've gotten a chance to collect my thoughts!
#ted lasso#ted lasso spoilers#If you noticed me avoiding mentioning certain things... there's a reason for that#tl ramblings
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
Attention seeker (Yandere Vil x reader)
The beautiful Queen's birthday, now if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go pull for his card.
Edit: I have failed and my disappointment is immeasurable. There's always Ruggie then.
A new first year to Pomifore who doesn't look like a potato face in Vil's eyes is rare. Something about her screams perfection and beauty in every way.
He never hears her talk much but she does as she's told. Her grades are always 100 marks never below that number. It amazed him how she didn't wear makeup but still looked like an angel sent down from above. When the freshmen were taught etiquette, she had no trouble at all.
What confused him the most was that she never mentioned anything regarding his beauty. Like maybe he had gotten some new makeup and graciously flaunted it to the whole dorm. She happened to be sitting in the dorm lounge and didn't bat an eye toward him, everyone else was mesmerised by his beauty except her.
Rook had to comment on his idol's sudden interest with the female.
"Roi de poison, you seem to be very interested in that freshman. She does seem like she's got something special to her doesn't she?"
"Yes, find out what you can about her." Vil was busy putting on his makeup but Rook noticed how his tone had shifted ever so slightly.
"As you wish Roi de Poison."
Rook only did as he was told though with an underlying excitement to it. It was for Vil after all and he could tell that this would go well in his twisted mind.
When Rook arrived back again, he had a surplus of info on her. From her favorite color to her daily routine. Vil noted everything he said to him about her.
She would cook for herself in the dorm's kitchen every morning for both lunch and breakfast. She never visits the cafeteria and always eats something healthy complimenting her physique. She even follows the facial routine Vil told everyone to do. When he mentions that she tutors Epel and she only spends time with him that immediately makes Vil's face turn into a frown.
He orders Rook to go and get Epel before he could even let him finish his findings. When he does come back with him Vil puts on a calm facade to mask his overwhelming envy toward the boy. He pretty much interrogates him seeing as Epel has no other choice he answers honestly.
Epel knows that charming smile on his dorm leader's face. He knew what happens when someone angers him. He could still feel the sting that had implanted itself in his memory after the blonde had slapped him for something minor.
All his questions pertained to his childhood friend. From her personality to what he knew about her that Rook didn't say to him already. He took in every bit of information. It only made him fall deeper into his obsession.
Though the fact stood out that Vil had fallen for a country bumpkin, he couldn't care less.
He just had to get her attention, after all.
* * *
"Vil senpai, is there something you need of me?"
He was outside her room door, one would say he was absolutely giddy at his plan he had concocted. Seeing her up close was even more exciting since he could take in every detail more than the pictures Rook had took of her.
"Seeing as you work so hard, I'm offering you a chance no one else gets you get to be my new makeup model! I need someone with your beauty almost as radiant as my own to test out some new makeup I ordered! I know this is such a gracious offer, so tomorrow at three after class meet me-"
"Excuse me, Vil senpai but I have to decline, it would be a waste of my time as well as yours. I ever so deeply apologize for wasting your time but I have to studying to do. Farewell." She shut the door softly leaving Vil shocked seeing as he was denied and put off to side like something to be forgotten.
That shock soon faded into pure rage. He was just denied with an opportunity as good as what he offered she could've become the talk of all social media with just one picture on his magicam page. Now that he thinks about it though, he didn't want that. All of your attention would be held up by strangers, your beauty would be flaunted off for the world to see. He's glad you denied before it could ever reach that point.
He still wanted your attention though. No, at this point he needed it. To just be forgotten just like when he plays the villain is not something he's fond of.
* * *
Y/n had been nervous as she felt like Rook had been following her for a few days and even though it had stopped altogether, she still couldn't help but be weary of her surroundings. Her vice dorm leader was always strange but it led to the question why was she the target of his interest now?
Vil had gained some strange interest in her as well and it made no sense as to why. She wasn't that special, certainly not at all in her standards. But at the present moment she didn't have the time to worry about that.
She had to go meet Epel again to tutor him in potions in the lab. They both grew up in the Village of Harvest together so they look after one another of course being good friends. Epel knows Y/n's reseved nature as well as how hardworking she is. She admires his determination just as he admires how she sees him for who he is which is thankfully not a girl. That's how the two have always been and now they both went to the same school.
She'd usually eat her lunch there before starting to mix any potions as to not accidentally mess up anything so she took a seat in the nearest chair that wasn't the teacher's desk and started eating.
Zucchini linguine was on the menu for today eating it slow with a fork not once making any slurping sounds. She noted that their was a slight difference in taste than what she was used too, considering she had made this before time and time again.
After awhile of waiting and already finishing her food she noticed that Epel hadn't arrived yet and usually he'd text if he were to be late. She found it strange, but something temporarily took her mind off it.
Her mind started to grow hazy and her eyes were growing blurry. Soon enough her body started to sway and the fork that was placed in the open container on her lap fell to the floor. Before she knew it she fell right with it feeling so dizzy all of a sudden. Her mind could process hearing for just a second, it sounded like the door.
Whispering quiet pleas was all she could do hoping it was Epel that could help him. She only saw a glimpse of purple robes, possibly nail polished fingers, and heard a few words as well as a pair of heels clicking against the floor before her mind completely shut off.
"You will give me your attention, even if I have to take you away."
* * *
Golden chains glittering, moved along with the captive that was awoken with a start.
The velvet sheets that had been neatly placed on her shifted as the chains rattled. She felt her wrists feeling the cold smooth metal on them. She immediately panicked even though she was usually calm and collected her mind just couldn't comprehend the situation. Never had she experienced anything similar to this.
She examined the walls and noticed that she was in Pomeifore, the elegant wallpaper had clued in on it. There was a dresser and a vanity next to it with all sorts of makeup neatly organized. It all looked so expensive just like the gold chains. The dread in her body had multiplied when she realized who it could be.
The room was much more luxurious then her own room. It could only be one person.
Vil Schoenheit.
As if on cue he walked in, with his manicured nails, crown on his head, and purple tipped locks accompanied by blonde roots. It only made him even more ecstatic to see her finally pay attention to him. He walked closer to her seeing her watch his every move for the first time since probably the day of the opening ceremony where he lectured the first years on Pomeifore etiquette.
When he finally reached her he lifted her chin and made her look him in the eyes.
"I want all of your attention to be on me my dear. I don't mind keeping you here to get it."
Masterlist
#vil schoenheit#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#yandere vil schoenheit#epel felmier#rook hunt
223 notes
·
View notes
Text
Random E! Thoughts: S4E13 - Parade
Oh, I love this one so much.
First of all, just the continuity of this whole thing - the engine shows up across three different seasons. That’s incredibly impressive for a purely episodic show.
Also, Johnny and Roy got it fixed and working! Somehow! Good for them!
Johnny ignoring the weird sounds the first time they start the engine, because clearly issues go away if you ignore them for long enough.
I’ve read before that Johnny’s cut was really thanks to Randolph Mantooth driving the engine against a wall and cracking his head on the steering wheel. Take this with a grain of salt, though - can’t remember the source for that, and it’s not in the behind-the-scenes book.
Cap’s being handed a kid, and his first reaction is “hey let’s put her in the Engine”. Also, he gives her his helmet. D’awww
That entire rescue is one of those really nice examples of Johnny and Roy working in tandem - I love their little dialogue back and forth.
Johnny’s pure glee at getting to drive the engine, short as it may be.
His equally crushing disappointment when it breaks again basically instantly
Johnny almost putting his arm on the engine and quickly deciding he’d better not, just for Roy to put his arm on it
Johnny picking Roy’s arm up by the wrist and getting it off the engine so he doesn’t get grease on it
Roy’s utterly defeated “so?” because he definitely wasn’t planning on fixing the engine before Johnny decided they should
“The kids? WE’ve been talking about it for two weeks!” Ah, Johnny
I love how Roy keeps going “this isn’t working, let’s give up” ever since they first got the engine, and yet Johnny keeps convincing him to keep going pretty much by the power of “you try saying no to him when he looks at you like that”
The dude trying to knock out his date is so fucked up. It’s also one of the relatively few cases where one person in that show wanted to do another genuine harm.
Kel, as per usual, is not here for parents being assholes.
I am really stupidly fond of Johnny’s off-duty clothes here. The ripped jeans a couple years before they’d have been cool, the simple t-shirt/shirt combo, the fun belt buckle... it’s just really stylish.
Speaking of belt buckles: Roy.
Johnny, so proud that he managed to find a gear, and suddenly there’s four of them.
Red always shows up so nicely on old film, which is part of what makes this episode look so stupidly pretty. Those are some really juicy colors, despite the general state of the episode.
Johnny losing his helmet about three times in a row, as per usual.
Johnny grinning and whooping as they drive out of the station lot
... quickly dampened by the realization that they’re actually Doing A Crime, lol
“Let’s take the 50-year-old engine to an actual fire, whatever could go wrong”
“Well, why not” *starts ringing the bell*
I love how it’s Johnny for once who points out that this is a godawful idea
“We’re firemen” - “from when.”
I love how they just adapt to the old equipment - and honestly, just this entire sequence is such a gem. I mean, who even THOUGHT of that? It’s ingenious, hilarious, AND suspenseful all in one.
also I’m a goddamn history nerd and the whole concept of the show being set halfway between the age of the engine and now is just... really fascinating.
The size comparison as the new engine drives by the old engine
Johnny actually looking mildly put out when Cap tells them they look ridiculous
Johnny just knowing the second he hears something go *boom* that they’re not gonna have an engine to drive to the parade in
Johnny’s priorities while chasing the kids off the engine: “you’re gonna get hurt” - “you’re gonna scratch the engine” - “will you give me my helmet”
That last scene and the way they hype each other up
“If you wanna cry, I won’t mind” is such a hilarious way to be Not That Stoic about the whole thing.
The way Johnny takes in the realization that there is gonna be another parade next year and just slowly perks up
His slowly blossoming smile at Roy while Roy’s still being grumpy
“Does it matter?” *looks over at Johnny, right at that hopeful smile* “Anyplace! Anyplace at all!”
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Trey Clover - Just a “normal” guy
You can unlock this story by getting Trey’s SR Lab coat
Translation under the cut
Rook: The science club. We do everything from cultivating plants, to chemistry experiments to cooking… There are plenty of clubs that do activities besides sports. Because of our wide range of activities, we are also called the "Whatever club", as there are many human oddballs affiliated with us. And here it is, today's activity of the science club…
Trey: Rook, it's nice that you come earlier than anyone else to the botanical garden to participate passionately, but… Can you please stop talking while you're watering the plants.
Rook: But Trey. Don't you think they want to know more about their caretakers?
Trey: Haha… You’re an oddball as usual.
Trey: Okay, I should take care of my potted plants as well. How are the strawberries doing that I'm cultivating…? Oh, they seem to have gotten redder than yesterday. It should be fine to harvest them now. Hm… They smell nice, and their shine is the optimal right now. It was worth it to spare no effort in cultivating them.
Rook: Hey, Trey. There's something that’s been on my mind for a while, can you hear me out?
Trey: I don't really mind… Is it that serious?
Rook: They often say that the science club is full of oddballs, but in contrast, you are a normal person. I want to expose that mystery.
Trey: Then I'll have to disappoint you. Process of elimination is the reason I entered the club. I would enter the home economics club or the cooking club if those existed, but they didn't.
Rook: Yes, you love making sweets. So, how do you feel, having chosen this club?
Trey: I'm having fun. I'm not only cooking but also cultivating the fruits to put on my cakes… I tried it and surprisingly got into it.
Rook: I see, so you're the kind of guy who gets obsessed with one thing.
Trey: For example, there are many varieties of strawberries. They can range from having a sweet to a sour taste. The kind I'm cultivating now is very sour, so I think it would taste nice in a tart. Our dorm leader is extremely fond of strawberry tarts. He'll be glad if we have some for the next tea party.
Rook: Hehe… I think you are plenty passionate about researching strawberries. Roi des Roses… so Riddle was your motivation. Having such a deep loyalty is très bien! As expected of the Chevalier, Trey!
Trey: Deep loyalty… Don't exaggerate. Riddle is my childhood friend, so I just know what he likes. That's all.
Rook: Is that so? My eyes reflect a much deeper bond between you two! But yes… a flower will wither if you give it too much water. It's fine to hold back so you won't break his heart.
Jade: Trey!
Trey: Hm? You are Jade from Octavinelle… Is there something?
Jade:… Actually, something awfully troubling has happened. Won't you lend me your power? Floyd has embezzled all the fruits that were supposed to be served at Mostro Lounge.
Rook: Oh my, Floyd is such a mischievous child as usual.
Jade: It fills me with great embarrassment. To request something of you is awfully painful, but… won't you hand over the strawberries you grew?
Trey: No, I'm sorry, but I was planning on using these strawberries for the tarts for the next tea party…
Jade: I know it is an impudent request but… I must request it nonetheless. An important customer has reserved us today for a birthday party. Unfortunately, the school store has also run out of fruits. I don't have time to go shopping off campus.
Rook: Les Miserables! If you cannot have a cake for a birthday party…
Trey: It would be sad to present a birthday cake with only the base and cream. … I understand. I shall give these strawberries to you.
Jade: Really? Ah, I'm relieved. Thank you very much!
Trey: However, I have one condition.
Jade: Of course, I'm grateful. Please ask me anything.
Trey: I'm relieved to hear that. In exchange for the strawberries, I’d like…
Chapter 2
Trey: And now we remove the axillary buds of the roots… Okay, this way they won't take nutrition from the sprout. Please grow up to be sweet and tasty.
Rook: Bonjour, Trey! Once again, are you seriously participating in today's club activities! This is the first time I've seen that planter, is it a newbie?
Trey: Yes. I'm planting new strawberry seedlings.
Rook: Ah, you did give the strawberries you've raised until now away to Jade. Oh, I know something! Let me give the newbie a name.
Trey: No, it's fine, you really don't have to give the strawberry a name.
Rook: You don't need to hold back… If you do change your mind please tell me though! Your modesty. And your kindness of yesterday. You are such a virtuous person! To think you'd give away the strawberries you put your soul into for a complete stranger's birthday cake.
Trey: I can just grow more strawberries. Besides, it's not like I gave them away to Jade for free.
Jade: Trey, I have brought the goods you requested.
Trey: Oh, now that we speak of the devil. I've been waiting, Jade.
Jade: Thank you very much for rescuing Mostro Lounge from yesterday's crisis. Here are your desired items, in exchange for the strawberries… A strawberry tart from the famous patissier from the town at the foot of the hill.
Rook: How beautiful…! The strawberries are vibrantly shining and look like polished rubies!
Trey: As expected of you, Jade. There was a rumor going around that you have to line up in the early morning to buy it, but you managed to.
Jade: As a punishment for the embezzlement, I had Floyd line up in the morning.
Trey: Huh. I didn't expect "that" Floyd to line up obediently like that.
Jade: Even if we're brothers, I was sure to make him repay his settlement for the embezzlement.
Rook: Oh my. The relationship between those is complicated and interesting.
Trey: In any case, thank you for the strawberry tart. I'm sure Riddle will be overjoyed.
Rook: Hey, Trey. While the tart that Jade bought seems extremely delicious, are you satisfied with that?
Trey: In what way?
Rook: I thought Riddle would be more pleased with handmade tarts and the strawberries you put so much love into raising.
Trey: Haha, no way.
Rook-Jade: Huh?
Trey: What's with you two. It's not like I said anything weird.
Rook: But you started cultivating strawberries because Riddle loves strawberry tarts, didn't you?
Trey: I guess so. While Riddle tends to fuss about the taste, his tastebuds are actually not that refined. If he knows it's from a famous store, he'll be happy. And I won't have to make it by hand.
Rook: I say… This is quite surprising, Jade.
Jade: Indeed. I was sure Trey was the type that wanted to make Riddle eat homemade food with plenty of love.
Trey: What kind of type is that? Well, it's true that I love cooking so I get why you’d misunderstand...
Trey: Frankly, I don't care about how it's made or if there's love in it. The priority is making sure that our dorm leader doesn't get his tyrannical mode switched on. Anything in the world but that, you know.
Rook: Dear me, And I thought you were Riddle's faithful knight… what a little misunderstanding. Trey. You are kind of shrewd.
Trey: I'm nothing like that. I'm like you said, just a "normal" guy.
Heartslabyul Dorm - Tea Garden
Cater: Aaaah!
Trey: ! Why did you suddenly yell out like that, Cater?
Cater: Isn't today's tea party cake the strawberry tart from that famous shop in the town at the foot of the hill where you have to line up from morning!
Riddle: Hmpf… is it that rare?
Deuce: Yes, I even saw it on the TV.
Cater: If I upload this to Magicam it will go viral! Let me take a pic before we eat it~
Ace: Trey, how did you get such an outrageously popular tart?
Trey: It certainly took some time and effort. However, I did all of it for the dorm leader's tea party. Going this far is no problem. I don't know whether this will satisfy your palate though, Riddle.
Riddle: W-Well, I have gotten used to eating strawberry tarts. Since Trey went through the trouble of getting it, I shall carefully savor it.
Trey: That's an honor. Let's serve the first piece. Here, dorm leader. Bon appétit!
#twisted wonderland#trey clover#jade leech#rook hunt#riddle rosehearts#cater diamond#ace trappola#deuce spade#personal story#translation
478 notes
·
View notes
Text
For auld lang syne, my dear
@fmasecretsanta2020
AO3 | FFN
Rating: K+
Genre: Fluff/Romance
Word Count: 2,340
A/N: Surprise, @megthemighty! I hope you enjoy this as much as you do the holidays. 😊 Stay tuned, and stay safe always!
He hums a few notes that Riza recognizes straightaway. She doesn’t interrupt him, however; she pauses, entranced by the surprisingly gentle timbre of his singing voice. Roy doesn’t seem to mind. He continues with a slow tempo, gentle like the sway of candlelight, softer and softer until he reaches the resolution of the first chorus.
There is something pleasant and comforting about mornings in winter that always awakens Riza just before the sun rises. It’s quiet, as the Hawkeye house is on any given day, anyway. But towards the end of the year, with their little village covered in a blanket of snow and their distant neighbors kept at home by the cold, the quiet is better justified, more peace than solitude.
Her routine on these mornings is simple. It begins with tea—lavender, which was her mother’s favorite and a type that Riza hasn’t had anyone to share with since her mother’s passing. While the sky is still dark, she lights a small fire in the living room, then curls up close by to read a book by the warm light. There she stays until sunrise, when it feels a little less cold, and then she retreats to the window in her room to watch the sky change color.
Today, Riza wakes up a little differently. She is on the living room couch with her book facedown on her chest, her tea cold and unfinished, and the small fire in the hearth reduced to dim embers. The light coming from the window tells her that she has slept through sunrise. But most tellingly, there is a second cup just inches from hers on the center table, a new fixture of the past couple of mornings or so, and it’s enough to clear her head and remind her of how she ended up falling asleep there.
The door opens. In comes Roy Mustang with a chilly gust of wind.
“Hey,” says Riza. Roy responds with a slight nod as he brushes powdery snow out of his hair and off his coat. “How’d it go? What did they say at the train station?”
Roy shrugs. “Just my luck. They’ve cleared out most of the snowfall in Geob Pass, but there’s been some damage to the tracks. If the weather doesn’t improve, it could take weeks for the trains to start operating normally again.”
He attempts to act casual, but Riza has known Roy for three years and by now she knows the cracks in his façade. His voice is far too even and cool, his walk more a trudge. He doesn’t make his usual easy small talk as he walks around the couch where she is and around the center table, finally settling on the spot by the hearth where she usually does her reading. His focus is entirely on the embers as he ignites a new fire out of them.
A few days ago, Roy was bound for an early morning train to Central, where he had planned to spend the year-end holidays with his family. He always took the same trip back home on the same day each year since he first came to study under Berthold Hawkeye, and this was to be the last. Riza knew about his plans even though he couldn’t speak openly about them. She knew long before the time even came for him to leave, which was why she became concerned when he returned to the Hawkeye house an hour past his departure time. The Amestris Express, he said, had indefinitely cancelled all travel between Central and the East due to a severe blizzard at the border, which buried a long stretch of track under several meters of snow.
Since then, Roy has gone into town early each day, hoping for word on when the trains might begin running again. Each day, he returned disappointed. This then became part of Riza’s early morning routine, partly because it was inevitable to come across each other in the living room, and partly because she felt sorry for him. She has since accommodated him with the friendly gesture of sharing tea with him before he left each day.
Riza continues watching Roy from the couch. He rubs his hands together over the fire he’s just made, and the sight is enough for her to feel its warmth too. It begins somewhere in the pit of her stomach, turns into a stirring feeling throughout the rest of her and a pink tinge in her cheeks. Then, she hears it as a voice in her head. Earnest, hopeful. How nice it is that Roy has remained here, it says, because she—
“I’m sorry,” Riza blurts out over the little voice. “I’m sorry,” she repeats slowly, more sincerely this time. She takes a few deep breaths until the color disappears from her face. “I know how much you were looking forward to this.”
“Thank you.” Roy leans against the table, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. Breathes out a short sigh. “I was supposed to spend more time with my family. Not just for the year-end holidays, but after the new year, too. I owe them that.”
Riza hums in understanding. There’s no need to talk about why, and there is no good thing that could come out of talking about it when her father is sure to wake up soon. They have better things to talk about, anyway, that could perhaps cheer Roy up.
“So, how do you spend the holidays at home?”
Roy turns to properly face her. He taps his fingers against the center table, deep in thought. “It’s a little manic,” he finally says with a laugh. “Too many people coming in and out of the bar, and they make a lot more trouble than usual during the holidays. The moment the bar opens in the evening, we hardly get any peace and quiet. But in the morning, when it’s just us, it’s special. My sisters like to exchange gifts over breakfast—trinkets, clothes, pocketbooks—it probably starts a couple of weeks before the end of the year.”
“Does the bar ever close over the holidays?”
“Only on the first day of the new year, so we could get some proper rest. Business doesn’t slow down until then, you see. We even host a party of sorts on New Year’s Eve. Anyone who wants to come just…”
He trails off. The smile on his face is both fond and wistful.
“It’s a little different around here,” Riza says after a moment’s silence. “Well—it hasn’t been the same since we lost Mother. But it’s a lot quieter, from what you said about Central—”
“Trust me, it always is.”
Riza laughs. “We really only celebrate on the last day of the year. That’s when we exchange gifts or get together with our families for a special meal. But you feel it before then—everyone’s a little friendlier and more charitable. It’s like it’s in the air. People prepare food for their neighbors, they keep hot chocolate ready in their kitchens for any time there’s a visitor or anyone who might be passing by.”
She sighs, then adds, “The only living relatives I know of are on Mother’s side, but she hadn’t talked to them in years. It’s just Father and I here during the holidays. But not for everyone else in this town—their relatives come over to spend the end of the year with them.”
“I see.” The fire in the hearth has grown, but Roy is leaning in the opposite direction from it now, closer to Riza. “In Central, it seems like everyone wants to get away whenever they can. I guess that’s where they come from, the people who choose to spend their holidays elsewhere.” He chuckles. “And then there’s me. I come back instead of leaving. Well, what can I say? Whatever everyone else is like, Central’s still home.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely.”
“Yeah, it is. We’ve got decorations all over the place, kids singing holiday carols…”
“Hey, we have those too!” Riza is smiling now, almost laughing. “I know it’s not that exciting out here, but you’ve been to town—you’ve seen the decorations. And the kids don’t go all the way to the outskirts, but they do go caroling.”
“And Central isn’t completely out of touch either,” Roy counters, grinning as if this were a competition to win. “There’s a traditional song you’ll hear around town for about a month—musicians perform it in the town square some nights, and then people sing it when the new year comes. Everyone knows it. It goes like this…”
He hums a few notes that Riza recognizes straightaway. She doesn’t interrupt him, however; she pauses, entranced by the surprisingly gentle timbre of his singing voice. Roy doesn’t seem to mind. He continues with a slow tempo, gentle like the sway of candlelight, softer and softer until he reaches the resolution of the first chorus. The last note is like a whisper, almost as if he means for her not to just hear it. Almost as if he were singing to her.
Too close. She has come far too close to him.
Riza leans back and laughs—she hopes it comes off as amusement. “And here I thought you were just an alchemist.” Clearing her throat, she continues, “We play that song around here, too. In the plaza, on New Year’s Eve—everyone goes to welcome the new year there. But we don’t sing it.”
Roy turns up the corner of his mouth curiously. “What do you do, then?”
“We dance.”
On the last day of the year, at Cameron Station, Riza waits with Roy for a train that will take him home.
The last few days feel like little more than a dream.
Nothing much changed about the way she spent the holidays with Roy around. She began each morning before daybreak, with a cup of tea and a book like always. She spent most of each day keeping to herself, as did her father, who told Roy he had “nothing more to teach at the moment” and preferred the company of his books and journals; and as did Roy, who respected Berthold’s decision and instead devoted himself to perfecting the basic alchemy that he had already learned.
Only two things were different this time. The first was that Riza had someone to talk to, at least whenever she and Roy were together. This did happen rather often; there were quiet evenings in the kitchen after dinner, walks to town whenever one had to run an errand and the other reasoned that they needed fresh air, and mornings like the first few ones of Roy’s extended stay. On his part, Roy no longer began each day with a pointless trip to town and the disappointment of not hearing good news. He seemed to make peace with the fact that he would be missing much of the holidays with his family, especially after a phone call during which his aunt assured him that there was no trouble at all, so long as he did eventually come home.
The second thing that changed was something that Riza couldn’t easily name. It seems simplistic to say that she was glad for company, or that Roy’s presence was a mere antidote to boredom. Whatever it was, she could easily trace it to that one morning, in the color that filled her face, the contentment in listening to Roy sing.
She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach when they heard news of the Amestris Express running trains from the East to Central again, and she tries to ignore it now as she stands in the platform, counting the minutes until the train arrives and then—and then she would be alone again. No friend at the table for New Year’s Eve dinner, no companion for the celebrations in the plaza.
No Roy.
Cameron Station is packed with eager travelers whose trips had also been delayed by the poor weather. When the shrill train whistle fills the station, the crowd seems to move forward in a massive wave, a flurry of goodbyes and well-wishes and promises and plans for when they would meet again in the coming year. There are no such parting words between Riza and Roy. Neither can say when or if he will return at all, or if things will be the same if he does.
The traditional holiday song in the East, the same one he had hummed for her, is being played on a violin somewhere in the crowd. A street performer must have come specifically to send the travelers off. Curious choice of music, Riza thinks, but she cannot think of anything more apt. It is New Year’s Eve, after all. A time of farewell just as much as it is a time of new beginnings.
She turns, and she catches Roy staring at her cheek. He catches himself in the act a second too late.
“Well,” he says quickly, “thanks for seeing me off.”
Roy extends his hand to her. Riza hesitates before finally taking it. In the politest voice she can manage, she says, “You have a safe trip back, Mister Mustang.”
He blinks, then laughs a little. “Roy.”
“Roy.”
Their handshake is slow and steady. A moment passes, and then another, and even in the anticipation of missing him Riza soon realizes that their hands might have already been clasped together for too long. Then—
A twist of the hand, a swift twirl, a breathless pause.
Riza takes a moment to steady herself. Mouth agape, she stares at Roy as if to await an explanation, but it doesn’t come. He takes a slow, cordial bow before letting go of her hand, and their little dance comes to an end.
“Happy New Year, Riza.”
She doesn’t find the words in time, and Roy follows the last of the departing crowd into the train, where Riza sees no more of him. There is no final glance over his shoulder, no fleeting glimpse through the windows. The music fades into the indistinguishable, dissonant voices of the crowd.
No matter, Riza thinks with a fond smile. She has those past few days with him to keep throughout the year, if not until he gets back—if not for each new year to come.
#FMA Secret Santa#FMA Secret Santa 2020#FMASecretSanta2020#Roy Mustang#Riza Hawkeye#Royai#young Royai#Fullmetal Alchemist#Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood#FMA#FMAB#fanfiction#fanfic#romance#fluff#writing#written by nina
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Moms Made Fullmetal Week 2020 Day 3: Disappointment or Apologies or Grounded
thank you @waddiwasiwitch for creating such a lovely event for us to celebrate the mothers of fma
check out @moms-made-fullmetal-2020 for more info 💖
rated: g | words: 2004
read on ao3
grounded
“Damn kid,” Madame Christmas grumbled as she rounded the bar.
“Tough night?” a voice asked from the opposite end, a wry smile on their face. With their hood up the Madame couldn’t see the patrons face, but she’d recognise that voice anywhere.
Christmas snorted. “No. Just a pest.”
“Cut the boy some slack, Madame,” the nasally female voice underneath the hood chuckled. “He’s still growing.”
“He’s growing into a pain in my ass,” she muttered.
The hood fell and the kindly face of an old woman smiled at the bar owner, their toothy grin on full show. “He’s a child,” she reminded Christmas cheerily. “Let him be.”
“I’ll do that when he’s not poking around my stock and breaking things.”
The old woman tutted and shook her head fondly.
Catching movement out the corner of her eye, Christmas turned and entered the back of the bar.
“Roy,” she called to her nephew as he tried to sneak up the stairs.
He froze on the third step, shoulders bunching up around his ears as he cringed. Dutifully though, he turned and descended the stairs he’d just climbed. His face was a scowl, eyes averted to the side. Christmas almost laughed. Boy, did he hate being told off.
“What have I told you about going in the stock room?”
“Don’t do it,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear.
“Don’t mumble,” she snapped. It was a pet peeve of hers.
The boy jumped, his spine straightening. It was like he had a broom strapped to it. At the fearful look in his eyes, Christmas willed herself to calm down. The old woman at the bar was right. He was still just a child, barely turned nine. She needed to remember to cool it when telling him off for something.
It had been hard in the beginning, and still was. Since the sudden death of her brother, Christmas had her nephew thrust upon her with no preparations whatsoever. She barely knew Roy, having only seen him at holidays. Even then, he avoided her because she intimidated the hell out of him. It hurt a little now to see him look so scared of her again. She knew she wouldn’t gain his trust or make his parents deaths any easier if she was too much of a hard ass on him, but he still had to learn.
“I’ve been told not to go inside the stock room, Madame,” Roy stammered.
Christmas took another deep breath.
“There is valuable stock in there, Roy. Most of its alcohol and you’re far too young to be exposed to that,” she explained, keeping her voice even. “And, you broke an expensive bottle.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, head bending forwards. Then, realising his mistake, his spine snapped back up and that fearful look was back on his face. “I – I mean, I’m sorry,” he stuttered once more.
“It’s all right.” Christmas crouched to lower to his eye level, narrowing her own eyes to get a better look at her nephew. There were no marks on his face from the falling bottle, but he stunk of whisky and she’d noticed the hand hidden behind his back. “Let me see that hand,” Christmas urged as gently as she could.
Roy debated showing the damage he’d done, but after a moment, he removed the closed fist from behind his back. Opening his fingers, she saw a small cut in the fleshy part of his thumb. Blood was oozing from it and had smeared across his palm and fingers from being clenched in a fist.
Christmas sighed and Roy shifted in stance at the sound. Grasping his hand gently, she turned his hand over, noting no other injury.
“Silly boy,” she tutted. Then, she cringed as Roy looked stricken. It was meant to be fond and teasing, but it didn’t help years of smoking had made her voice so gruff it sounded like she was scolding him. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” he replied quickly. Too quickly.
Christmas lifted an eyebrow at him, and he crumpled beneath her gaze.
“It does a little,” he mumbled. Although it was a pet hate, Christmas let this one slide. After all, he was just a kid. He’d made a dumb mistake, as kids do, and he’d been hurt. There had to be compromise somewhere with them, otherwise this would never work. The last thing Christmas wanted to do was turn her nephew against her.
“Go into the kitchen and bring through the red bag that is attached to the wall by the door. It’s the first aid kit,” Christmas directed. “Come on through to the bar and I’ll patch up that hand of yours, all right?”
Roy’s eyes widened to practically boggling at Christmas’ invite through to the bar. He was an inquisitive boy, always poking around places he shouldn’t be – tonight’s events were a prime example – and looking to find something new to study. Since the bar was off-limits, this was no doubt a dream come true for him.
As he hurried away, Christmas re-entered the bar. The old woman was grinning at her.
“I didn’t know you had such a soft heart in you,” the woman cooed.
“Grumman,” Christmas greeted.
The old man frowned. “What gave it away?”
“Your ugly face.”
Grumman’s mouth fell open as Christmas snorted.
“What a rude way to speak to an old lady,” he muttered in his high-pitched voice underneath his breath.
Roy poked his head nervously through to the bar, but his mouth parted in shock, eyes widening in wonder as he looked around the room. He’d never been through here at night before. Christmas had forbidden it. This was no place for a child at his age. But, again, there had to be compromise. He was too nosy for his own good and had snuck into the stock room. What next? Sneaking into the bar when the girls were working and hearing things he shouldn’t, especially at the age of nine?
“Hop up,” Christmas ordered, placing a stool in front of him. Roy did as directed and as Christmas began to work on his hand, his eyes scanned the room in his awe.
“Hello, dear,” Grumman greeted him in his female voice. Christmas just rolled her eyes.
“Hello,” Roy greeted politely.
“My name is Joyce,” Grumman lied. “What’s yours?”
“My name is Roy,” he replied, but cocked his head to the side. “Why do you have hair on your lips?”
Christmas burst out laughing, making her nephew jump at the sudden volume. Grumman’s moustache was beginning to grow back in probably a little quicker than the old man had hoped.
Grumman cleared his throat, dropping his act. “I’m undercover,” he whispered, leaning forward to speak conspiratorially to Roy. “I’m a secret agent and this is my disguise,” Grumman winked.
“You dressed up as a lady?”
Grumman nodded. “The perfect disguise for an old man like me.” Grumman nodded and tapped the side of his nose, indicating it was a secret. “Don’t tell anyone,” he warned in a whisper.
“There,” Christmas announced. She patted down Roy’s bandage then placed the wrappings down on the top of the bar. “All done.”
Roy lifted his hand and tried to peak underneath the gauze. “It’s hidden underneath there?”
“It’s wrapped up to make sure no dirt gets inside it and makes it a worse injury than it is,” she explained, taking his hand back in her own to tuck a stray piece underneath. “Now, since you broke the bottle, you’re grounded for the next two days. Do you understand?”
Roy’s smile fell from his face and he nodded as he forgot he’d be punished for his dangerous behaviour.
“Can’t have you sneaking in places where you’re not supposed to be again, understood?”
“Yes, Madame.”
She relaxed and straightened, lifting Roy’s hand to the light to examine her work. It was all clean and bandaged up nicely.
“You’re free to go, or you can sit here for a while, if you want?”
“I – I thought you said I was grounded?” Roy swallowed.
“You are. For the next two days. Tonight, doesn’t count.”
“Can… Can I stay here?” he asked, his eyes begging her to say yes.
Christmas didn’t know what it was about the bar that was drawing his interest so much. Perhaps it was because she’d forbidden it? Maybe it was because he’d never been somewhere like this before. In an ideal world, Christmas wouldn’t have him anywhere near here either, but this was not an ideal world – something she was all too aware of. It was up to her to educate him properly on her “business venture” and make sure he understood it correctly. That would all come in time, though. He was much too young to be worrying about such things.
“Of course, you can, Roy Boy.”
He beamed up at her, coming to sit upon his hands as his little legs swung on the stool. His injury was promptly forgotten in his excitement.
As Christmas moved to begin cleaning the glasses that had stacked up, she turned when she heard her nephew gasp.
“You have a piano,” he whispered in reverence.
“You play?” Christmas asked, lifting an eyebrow in surprise.
Roy nodded excitedly. “Mama had one.” He was practically bouncing in his seat. “Can I play?” he begged.
“Not tonight.” Roy’s face fell. “But tomorrow, you can show me what you’ve got.”
His eyes were practically sparkling. “I still have all of Mama’s music. It’s in my room. I’m going to read over it now!” Without another word, he hopped down from the bar stool and darted through the back and up the stairs. Christmas watched him go, shaking her head. Where he got all that energy from, she didn’t know.
“He’s a good kid,” Grumman stated, emptying his glass of wine.
“He is,” she agreed, turning to refill his empty glass.
“You’re fond of him,” he stated.
“More than fond,” she argued. “He’s my nephew.”
“Even when he’s breaking your stock?” Grumman chuckled, taking the now filled glass off Christmas.
“Even when he put a hole in my kitchen ceiling with his alchemy,” she sniffed. What kind of question was that? Of course, she loved her nephew.
“Alchemy, huh? Interesting…”
“What’s so interesting?” Christmas asked defensively. “What kind of plan are you cooking up, old man?” She narrowed her eyes dangerously at him.
“Plan?” Grumman echoed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Christmas snorted and shot him a pointed look.
“It’s not a plan, just an idea. I know someone who may be able to teach him alchemy. It might save your house and your bar from further destruction if he’s disciplined in the science properly.”
Christmas considered it. It would certainly save her a boat load of worries if he learned from a proper teacher, rather than letting him loose with it inside the house with no way to channel his thirst for knowledge. It might save her ceiling from collapsing again.
“He’s desperate to learn and won’t quit bugging me about it,” she mused, looking at the door Roy had left through. However, he’d just come under her care and if he had to leave to go and study under someone, Christmas didn’t want Roy to think it was because she didn’t want him there.
“He’s at the perfect age to learn,” Grumman added.
“Why are you pushing this so hard?” Christmas retorted. “What’s this person to you?”
Grumman cast his eyes downwards. “Just an acquaintance,” he replied. Christmas knew for a fact he was lying. This mystery teacher was so much more than that.
“I’ll talk to Roy,” she stated. “When I think he’s ready. I can’t ground the kid then tell him he can go off an learn alchemy like he desperately wants to.”
Grumman chuckled. “I suppose not.”
“Plus, I’ve still got to hear him play piano,” she shrugged. “I might end up having a musician on my hands instead.” Christmas returned to her task of drying glasses.
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tree House Kisses, Chapter 5 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica
Chapter Summary: Just when Adore’s tired of being tired, someone new shows up. But why wasn’t Courtney informed?
Chapter 5: Shape of You
Adore shoved a couple of chips into her mouth, nose wrinkled in disgust, watching the obvious way Roy was flirting with Courtney, and the shameless way she was lapping up the attention. It had started with him teasing her, and currently had devolved into him attempting to tickle her on the grassy hillside where the group ate their lunch, as Courtney shrieked and giggled and pretended to want him to stop.
It had been a strange summer. After the bombshell news about Courtney’s parents dropped, Adore had decided not to reveal anything to her best friend about her sexuality yet. She tried to be a rock, a shoulder to cry on. She made a serious effort to spend time with Courtney all summer - even begging Bonnie to take Courtney along with them when they visited her cousins in Arizona, and making sure that no more than a few hours went by without a text.
Sometimes, she felt like she was leading a double life. Because while all that was going on, at the same time, she was taking every possible opportunity to sneak off with Violet. They had long since passed the days of mere make-outs in the tree house, and graduated to more adult forms of sexual experimentation. Violet was desperately in love with Fame, another girl in their class (although she tried to act cool about it), and it helped Adore to know that neither one of them was going to have their feelings crushed - at least, not by each other.
As Courtney had become fond of saying - romance and love and relationships were utter bullshit. The only thing in life that could truly be counted on were your friends.
And even that, Adore realized, was not guaranteed, as she watched her best friend act like a total fucking braindead idiot with a boy who had been annoying them since elementary school.
“Royyyyy, stoooop!” Courtney whined, giggling and simpering at him.
Adore stood up, the remnants of her lunch in her hands. “You know, when you want someone to stop touching you, giggling and batting your eyelashes is kind of a mixed message,” she said, then turned and flounced away.
Courtney jumped up and hurried after her. “Dory, wait up!”
Roy sighed slightly, whining to no one in particular, “Goddammit. Adore totally just fucked up my game.”
Jamin and Bob both laughed.
“What game?” Jamin asked.
“Yeah bro, you got no game,” Bob added.
“I have game!” Roy defended.
Alyssa and Darienne exchanged a look.
“Sorry, how long have you liked Courtney?” asked Darienne.
“Yeah, and you’re still just friends?” added Alyssa, with a judgmental pop of her tongue. “Maybe she’s trying to tell you something.”
The pretty brunette gave Roy a playful shove, fluttering her lashes.
“I’m taking it slow.”
“You’ve known her since you were like 3. That’s reeeeeeal slow, man,” Thorgy laughed.
“No fuckin’ game,” Bob proclaimed.
-
“Courtney!” Roy hurried up to Courtney at her locker, trying to catch her between the lunch bell and fifth period.
“Hey.” Courtney turned around, shutting her locker and flashing him a lopsided grin.
“Um...so...have you seen that new Exorcist movie yet?”
“Nope...have you?”
“No, but, uh...I heard it’s good. I was gonna try to see it this weekend.”
“Cool...” Courtney smiled, giving him a glimmer of hope.
“Are you free Friday? Do you want to maybe come with me?” Roy asked tentatively.
“Sure,” she agreed, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Who else is coming?”
“Oh. Um…” Roy shifted slightly. “I kind of thought it would just be the two of us.” He watched her face carefully as recognition dawned in her eyes.
“Oh…” she said softly, biting her lip nervously.
Roy cleared his throat and quickly backtracked, “You know, as friends.” He gave her a shaky smile, flashing his dimples.
“Right! Of course!” Courtney beamed up at him, eyes bright, radiant smile melting his heart. “So...I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah, definitely.” Relief and shame coursed through him. You fucking pussy, he told himself.
Courtney bit her lip again, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder and bouncing away down the hall. Bob, leaning on his locker nearby, gave Roy a knowing smirk.
Roy shook his head as Bob came sauntering towards him. “Don’t even start.”
Bob laughed. “Noooo fuckin’ game.”
“Fuck off,” Roy snapped, punching Bob on the shoulder.
-
COURTNEY: What do I wear? I don’t want to give him the wrong idea...
COURTNEY: But I still want to look cute.
COURTNEY: Do you think it’s really a just friends thing or is he full of shit?
ADORE: He’s full of shit
COURTNEY: LOL
COURTNEY: Well...
COURTNEY: If this is a date, what do I DO?
COURTNEY: Do I let him kiss me?
COURTNEY: I don’t know if I even like him like that...
COURTNEY: DORY HELP
-
ADORE: Come over. I’m bored.
VIOLET: Sorry pumpkin. It’s my brother’s birthday. We’re classing it up at the Outback Steakhouse tonight.
ADORE: Fuck.
VIOLET: What would you do if I was there??
VIOLET: …
VIOLET: Tell me where you’d touch me...
ADORE: I’m not in the mood for this.
VIOLET: You’re no fun at all.
ADORE: Yeah, well. Life is no fun.
VIOLET: Emo cunt
ADORE: Fuck off
VIOLET: Ohhhhhh...tonight’s your boo’s big date, huh?
ADORE: Goodnight, Violet
-
COURTNEY: DUDE
COURTNEY: He’s wearing so much cologne
COURTNEY: OMG I think this is a date
COURTNEY: WTF do I do?
COURTNEY: Adore???
COURTNEY: OK he’s being really nice and he keeps giving me those puppy eyes
COURTNEY: I feel kind of bad
COURTNEY: I really wish you were here
COURTNEY: Lol I just said “supposably” on purpose and he didn’t even correct me (I mean he clenched his teeth but he didn’t say anything)
COURTNEY: Lol he’s trying so hard
COURTNEY: It’s really pretty cute...
COURTNEY: DORY ARE YOU ALIVE???
“Ugh!” Adore hurled her phone out the window, into the grass. She curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut. And then she must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, hands were shaking her awake.
She opened her eyes to see Courtney leaning over her in a relatively modest (for her) outfit, consisting of a sweater, colorful leggings, mini-skirt, and ugg boots.
“Why are you ignoring me?” she pouted, hands on her hips.
Adore groaned. “I fell asleep. How was your date?”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“Yeah, yeah. So did you kiss him or what?”
“Nope.” Courtney flopped down next to Adore on the bean bag, resting a head on her shoulder.
Adore sighed. “You will.”
Courtney laughed. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
-
Adore had seen the moving truck in the driveway yesterday, on her way back from Violet's. To her disappointment, she didn't see anyone, but like everyone else on the street, she was curious as to who was moving into their neighborhood. Adore and her mother even made a bet a couple of weeks ago, when Bonnie announced that the house had been sold. Adore was sure that their new neighbors were going to be a fresh young couple with small kids (also hoping she could get a babysitting job), and Bonnie was convinced that it was an older couple that she had seen looking at the house not long after Bendela’s family moved out.
“I just want you to casually walk by and see what you can peek,” Bonnie said from her place by the stove scrambling eggs, “But don't be creepy, okay?”
“What? I'm not creepy,” Adore leaned on the table, slightly offended.
“Yeah, sometimes you are. You got them big ol’ eyes and sometimes you just stare at people,” Bonnie turned to look at Adore, who was frowning. “Now, don’t get upset, I'm just saying that when you get nervous or shy you tend to just stare. And though it can be endearing, it’s also…a little bit creepy. Like the other day at the grocery store,” Bonnie continued to elaborate.
“What?” Adores voice went up a couple of octaves, “I didn't do anything at the store!”
“Oh, I know you didn't. You just gawked at the cashier as she flirted with you. I was so embarrassed. ‘My child is so awkward,’ I thought,” Bonnie sighed dramatically.
Since Adrian went to college a couple of months ago, the pair had become closer than Adore ever imagined. Being the last one in the house made Bonnie clingier than ever. Everywhere they went, her mother continuously pointed out pretty girls, trying to figure out Adore's type, even though Adore insisted she didn't have a type. Bonnie also let Adore have a glass of wine with her in the evenings, while they watched movies or ate dinner.
“That's totally different, she was gorgeous,” Adore exclaimed standing up from the table and grabbing two plates out of the cabinet.
“Okay, and? So are you,” Bonnie turned off the stove, scooping the eggs onto both plates.
“I was caught off-guard.”
“How? She was checking you out before we even got to the register.”
“I… I just didn't realize she was actually flirting with me until,” Adore tried to find the right excuse for her cold feet in the store the other day, “I thought she was just doing her job,” Adore shrugged, taking the waffles out of the toaster.
“Adore, you’ve got to work on your gaydar or you'll never get a girlfriend.”
-
Adore tried to be discrete as she wandered down the street to Dela’s old house. She noticed that the moving truck was no longer there, indicating that the mysterious neighbors were now settled in. Adore made sure to appear as casual as possible as she strolled past the driveway.
All of that was soon thrown out the door, when she saw the blonde crouched next to dirt bike. Stopped in her tracks, Adore stood mouth agape as she drank the girl in, because damn was she sexy. The girl’s thick blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail with a few strays falling loose, long creamy legs were on display thanks to a pair of cut off shorts, paired with a loose white tank top and beat up combat boots. All of it making Adore’s heart go into overdrive. And when she looked up at Adore with those ice-blue eyes framed by thick liner, Adore knew she was a goner.
Adore swallowed, when the girl rose from her crouched position everything seeming to move in slow motion as she made her way towards a mesmerized Adore. She took in every part of the girl, her slim frame, her red bra shown clearly through the thin top and her face--fuck she was beautiful. She definitely wasn’t an old groggy couple, or a three-year-old in need of a babysitter.
“Sup,” the blonde nodded stopping in front of her, eyes trailing down Adore’s body. Her voice was slow, low and fucking sexy.
“Uh,” Adore giggled nervously, “Hi.”
“So, I’m guessing you live ‘round here. Came to check out the new neighbors,” the blonde said, shifting her weight to one leg, linking her thumbs in her belt loops.
“Yeah, yeah. I, uh, I live a couple of houses down. Yeah, that one right there, I don’t know if you can, like, see it. It’s the one with the tree house in the backyard,” Adore stumbled over her words pointing in the direction of her house. She couldn’t believe it, in a matter of seconds she’d been reduced to a blubbering, giggly mess.
Her heart raced as the blonde leaned in towards her to get a look at where Adore was pointing, “That one, right there?” she pointed in the same direction as Adore, her voice sending shivers down Adore’s spine.
“Yeah,” Adore swallowed, quickly looking away to try to regain her composure.
“Well, nice to meet ya, I’m Pearl,” the girl held her hand out, blue eyes boring into Adore’s.
“A-Adore,” she reached out to meet Pearl’s hand.
-
COURTNEY: Meet me at the flagpole before class starts?
ADORE: Sorry, busy
Adore stuffed her phone into her bag as she led Pearl to the office to get her schedule from the office.
“Hopefully we have some classes together, but even if we don’t I can still show you to them. I mean, like, if you want me to, ya’ know,” Adore offered. She tried to play it cool, but she knew Pearl had her wrapped around her finger and it’d only been two days.
Pearl wasn’t just a pretty face, she was hilarious--with her deadpan sense of humor, filled with random facts. And they had a lot of interests in common. And when Pearl confirmed that she was a lesbian, Adore nearly fell out of her chair. Literally.
They were in Pearl’s garage drinking soda, listening to Green Day, Adore giving her a picture of what to expect from school.
“I mean I haven’t really been hanging out with my friends as much as I use to. Kind of just been a floater lately; talking to this person and hanging out with that person. Usually my best friend, Courtney. You should meet her; she’s amazing,” Adore shrugged tilting the chair forward. She was sitting backwards on the chair, legs on either side, arm resting on top of the back as she rocked.
“Well, I mean high school is that time when people start to go their separate ways. But, now you’ve got me. I’m just hoping there’s a lot of cute girls. I mean I haven’t been let down so far,” Pearl said, taking a sip from her can.
Adore face went red at the compliment, but was more focused on getting a solid answer, “Cute girls?” she inquired, making sure to keep her tone light, as she leaned forward with the chair.
“Yeah, I’m a girl’s girl,” Pearl winked and Adore nearly lost her balance, the chair almost slipping away from her. Luckily, Pearl reached out to help steady her.
“Of course, I want you to show me around. Don’t let me get stuck with some preppy tour guide who’s way too enthusiastic and happy to be here,” Pearl gave a crooked smile.
Adore giggled, since that tour guide would likely have been Darienne or Thorgy, who certainly fit the “preppy and too enthusiastic” description.
After getting Pearl’s schedule, they happily realized that they had three out of six classes together. “I can show you to your homeroom now or later, but I don’t think it’ll matter. We only go to homeroom to pick up papers or on important test days,” Adore explained.
“We can go to class now and stop by in between classes,” Pearl suggested.
“Okay, then. Let’s go to English,” Adore said, leading Pearl to first period.
-
“Mr. Harris, this is Pearl.”
“Oh, we have a new student?” the older man looked up from his desk, “Well, why wasn’t I informed about this?” he mumbled to himself, shuffling the papers on his desk.
“Yeah, Pearl Lent,” Pearl introduced herself.
“Well, take a seat, wherever you choose, and talk to me after class so we can get caught up,” he dismissed the two.
Adore led Pearl to the back, where she usually sat. They were soon joined by April and Bob.
“You must be the new girl,” Bob smiled at Pearl.
“Yep.”
“Yeah, this is Pearl. She’s fucking cool.”
“Hi, I’m April.”
"Hi there." Pearl smiled charmingly up at April.
“Mhm, it’s pretty weird having someone living in the old Emerson’s house,” Bob started.
Adore’s brows furrowed, confused because that was not Bendela’s last name.
“Yeah, it’s been empty for as long as we can remember. Right Adore?”
“What are you-”
“Yeah. You know it’s haunted,” Bob continued, leaning forward onto Pearl’s desk. “Apparently, the Emerson’s son was a murderer and they moved when suspicions started to rise. The story is that their son started off killing animals in his backyard for fun- sacrificing them. Then one day, he grew curious. Wondered what it would be like to take the life of something bigger, more significant, a person. His first victim was his four-year-old neighbor. He suffocated him, then cut up his body before burying him. Then after that he couldn't stop. He grew addicted to the power. Some say that his parents knew and were just too afraid to confront him. Others say that they didn’t believe their sweet child could do all the horrible things that he was being accused of...” Bob was so close to Pearl, his voice falling to a whisper at the end.
Adore looked at Pearl, who was staring at Bob with a look of disbelief, confused and creeped out because her parents had told her that a family had just moved out earlier that summer.
“He’s so full of shit, Pearl,” Adore shook her head.
“Adore!” Bob laughed, “You’re always ruining things.”
“It wasn’t even funny.”
“Yeah, because you didn’t give it a chance to be.”
“Bob,” Adore sighed, “You’re just not funny,” she tried to keep her tone serious.
“Adore, stop lying,” Bob shook his head, “I’m hi-lar-ious,” he said, turning to April, who was a giggling mess in her seat, “See!”
Before Adore could reply, she was interrupted by Courtney, who she hadn’t even seen come in.
“Uhm, Hi, you must be Pearl,” Courtney gave a tight smile.
“Yeah, and you are?” Pearl leaned forward, attention on the pretty green-eyed girl.
“Courtney, and this is my seat.”
Pearl frowned, but shook her head and with an ‘okay’ and started to gather her things to move, not wanting to be problematic on her first day.
She was stopped by Adore, who put her hand on her arm, “Wait,” she said, and then turned to her best friend. “Courtney, it’s her first day. I’m showing her around, let her sit here, we don’t have assigned seats. Just sit next to April,” Adore tried to convince Courtney.
Appalled and offended, Courtney’s mouth dropped opened at her best friend’s words. “What?” she scoffed.
“Court, come on. Don’t be like that, just let her sit here,” Adore said, pouting at the end.
“I can move. It’s not a big deal, Adore,” Pearl said moving to gather her stuff again.
“No,” Adore whined before looking back to Courtney.
“Adore, she just said it’s no big deal and I’ve been sitting next to you since the first day of class. That’s not fair,” Courtney was now annoyed, not at Pearl, but Adore’s audacity to let someone that she just met take her seat, then try to convince her to sit somewhere else.
“Okay, okay. You’re right,” Adore finally agreed, “Pearl let’s sit over there, there's two open seats.”
As Adore and Pearl moved, Courtney scrunched up her face, sitting down with a huff.
-
Adore was over the moon to have Pearl in her classes. Introducing the beautiful girl to everyone, giddy when Pearl turned to look at her for reassurance or to make a face. Maybe, it was because Pearl was new and different. Adore had been surrounded by the same people most of her life and Pearl’s presence was such a breath of fresh air, Adore could barely contain her excitement.
“You don’t have to buy a locker if you don’t want. You can share with me?” Adore offered as they left Pearl’s homeroom teacher who had given her a bunch of papers that she would need.
“Really?”
“Yeah, no reason for you to pay five dollars for a locker, when I have plenty room in mine.”
“Wow, I guess I need to start thinking of a way to pay you back,” Pearl winked and Adore blushed when their hands lightly brushed together.
As the pair made their way to math, a particular short skirt caught Adore’s attention. Violet was bent over in front of her locker, going through her bag and Adore, excited to introduce Pearl, dragged the girl over to Violet.
“Hey, babe,” Adore greeted Violet, her hand lightly touching the exposed skin on Violet’s thigh to get her attention.
“Hey,” Violet stood up, turning to press a light kiss to Adore’s cheek before looking over to the blonde with narrowed eyes.
Pearl was unashamedly checking Violet out, taking in her pretty doll-like face, long black ponytail, crop top, and skirt.
“Hm, this must the infamous Pearl,” Violet said, a bored look on her face as she looked Pearl over. She had to admit that the girl was gorgeous, but Violet didn't plan to let Pearl know that.
“Infamous,” Pearl repeated in her slow drawl, “I wouldn’t use that word, but I am Pearl,” she finished with a crooked smirk.
Adore glanced between them hoping that they would get along, but from Violet’s demeanor it didn’t seem like she was planning to befriend the girl anytime soon.
“Whatever, everyone’s been talking about you. And I’ll say, I’m not impressed.”
“Oh, so, I’m guessing you’re the mean girl,” Pearl said, her tone joking.
“Sure,” Violet rolled her eyes, turning to pick up her bag and close her locker, “See you later, beautiful,” Violet said, pressing another kiss to Adore’s cheek, this time longer, making sure to leave a red print on Adore’s cheek. She pulled away, before sending Pearl a look and walking away.
Adore wiped the print from her cheek, as Pearl watched Violet walk away, her curiosity evident.
“Uh, girlfriend?” Pearl asked as she looked back to Adore.
“No, no,” Adore assured.
Pearl raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Well, she’s fucking gorgeous and she didn’t really seem to like me and that kiss was definitely a claim,” Pearl wiped the rest of Violet’s lipstick off her face as they made their way to their next class.
“Nah, we have like a friends with benefits kind of relationship, but she’s not like jealous or anything, I'm positive. She just likes to leave her mark and being difficult, that’s just her. But she’ll come around soon,” Adore nodded.
-
Gia and Laganja slid into the seats on either side of Courtney. She looked up from the math homework she was trying to finish before the bell rang. “Hey, guys.”
“Hey Court,” said Laganja. “You alright? You seem kind of...”
“Out of sorts…” Gia finished slowly, with a wry smile.
“I’m fine.”
“Hmmm.” Laganja clicked her tongue, imitating her role model, their head cheerleader, Alyssa Edwards.
“What do you think of that new girl?” Gia asked. “She’s like...really beautiful, huh?”
Courtney shrugged, “I mean, she’s pretty...I guess...”
“You guess? She’s gorgeous, and Adore seems to really like her,” Laganja pushed, observing Courtney’s reaction closely.
Courtney shifted in her seat, her mouth slightly turned down as she frowned, “She’s just showing her around because she’s new.”
Just then Adore and Pearl walked in together, Adore standing with Pearl as she introduced herself to the teacher.
“Eh, I don’t think that���s it,” Gia said, “I mean, we all know Adore, and she’s acting like Pearl’s the best thing since glitter.”
“I know Adore too, better than either of you,” Courtney snapped, ready to go on the defensive.
The knowing smirk they exchanged went over Courtney’s head as Adore and Pearl walked over to them.
“Just look at them, acting like the best of friends,” Laganja whispered right before the pair sat down. “Hey, Adore, did you finish the homework?” she asked innocently.
Courtney stayed silent as she watched Adore and Pearl.
“Yeah, I copied from Jinkx,” Adore said stiffly. It was no secret how much Adore disliked Courtney’s cheerleading friends, or as she liked to refer to Gia and Laganja, “Team Too Much.” She turned to murmur something to Pearl, who brushed Adore’s hair off of her shoulder, causing her cheeks to turn red.
Laganja looked at Courtney pointedly, one eyebrow raised. A hot jealousy started to burn in Courtney’s chest as she watched the two interact, but she refused to acknowledge it as anything more than fear of losing her best friend to a girl who had only been around for a day.
-
Courtney picked at her food, watching Adore and Pearl over by the lockers, chatting. Pearl had a hand on Adore’s arm, and Adore’s eyes sparkled as they talked, heads close together.
Bob shoved Roy slightly. “You could learn a thing or two from that new girl. Less than a week and Adore is ready to pack a suitcase full of her Indigo Girls CDs and move in with her. That’s game.”
Roy punched Bob on the arm, muttering, “Shut the fuck up!” under his breath.
Courtney frowned. “Bob, you’re such a little gossip. Why are you always starting rumors?”
“It’s not a rumor.” Bob said, confused. “She still hasn’t told you? It’s been like a year.”
Roy punched him again.
“Stop punching me, fuckface!” Bob punched him back.
“Hasn’t told me what?” Courtney asked quietly.
“Adore’s gay, Courtney. She came out to her family like, almost a year ago. Her mom told my mom last year.”
Courtney stared at Bob in stunned silence, heart pounding in her ears.
#rpdr fanfiction#adore delano#courtney act#adorney#bianca del rio#pearl liaison#violet chachki#bob the drag queen#bitney#viadore#adore x pearl#angst#fluff#lesbian au#high school au#tree house kisses#scorpio#veronica
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
That word on your skin (DamiJay)
When Jason had invited him on an outing the day after his eighteenth birthday, Damian had kind of expected a bar or something. Instead, Jason took him to a vegetarian and vegan diner. It looked a little run-down, just like the neighborhood it was in, but the food was delicious.
Jason laughed when Damian told him so. “I know, doesn’t it look like the seediest place ever?”
“I don’t know, you look right at home,” Damian shot back.
It was comfortable, with no venom in it. After all, they had kind of grown up together, though they didn’t talk about their shared past in the League of Assassins often. In his early years with Bruce, Damian hadn’t understood Jason’s decision at all. Why not stay with the League if he had no wish to comply with Batman’s rules? Why not, on the other hand, temper his agenda to return to the family he so clearly was still connected to?
It was only later, when he’d come to see the League for what it was, when he’d had his own experiences with Bruce and began to see Jason’s in a different light, that he started appreciating the Red Hood for what he was.
They were similar, for very different reasons.
None of which explained the terrible, stupid crush he’d developed. That nervous tension in his stomach whenever Jason so much as looked at him was getting annoying as hell.
“You’re distracted tonight,” Jason remarked. “Everything alright?”
Damian willed himself not to blush. “I’m fine.”
Jason studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “If you say so. Hey, so, I was gonna ask you something…”
“Okay?”
In lieu of an answer, Jason stripped off his jacket, and Damian tensed up for a very different reason. Those arms had been what had clued him in that he might be into men, back at the beginning of puberty, and he hadn’t really moved on since.
Now just in a t-shirt, Jason stretched out his arm. It took Damian a second to figure out what he was supposed to be looking at. There were stark lines against Jason’s skin. One word, in a minimalist font. Right on the inside of his wrist where Damian knew the skin would be thinnest—the second-best place to take a pulse, check for signs of life.
Zombie.
“It’s in marker right now,” Jason said. “Roy got me a removable tattoo. I was gonna get it done for real tonight.”
Damian frowned, still looking at the not-tattoo. “And you brought me here before you did, because…?”
“I was wondering if you wanna get that one, too?”
Damian’s head snapped up. That was— “Yes.”
Jason knew a place. Of course he did.
“Hi, I’m Lisa,” the artist introduced herself. “What’ve you got for me?”
Jason showed her his wrist. “This, for both of us.”
She studied it for a second, then nodded. “That your idea of a couple tattoo?”
Damian felt his neck heat up. He hadn’t even thought of it in those terms when he’d agreed to Jason’s suggestion. All he’d known was that here was a way to acknowledge all that he lost while moving forward.
But to Lisa, they were two guys who were getting matching tattoos.
“Something like that,” Jason agreed readily, and what?
“Unconventional, but I like it,” Lisa nodded. “Alright, give me a sec so I can get it on tracing paper.”
They waited for her in silence. Damian didn’t know what to say, and Jason didn’t seem to feel the need to.
“Who’s going first?”
Jason pointed at himself. Though Damian kind of wanted to get it over with, he didn’t mind. This way, he was able to watch Jason strip down to his shirt again. Seeing how the word slowly took shape under Lisa’s steady hand was fascinating.
“How does it look?”
Jason was looking at him, Damian realized. “It’s… nice.” Stunning.
“Good, ‘cause you’re next,” Lisa told him. “Left or right?”
“Left,” Damian decided. He wanted it on his sword hand, but this way, it was less likely to get damaged.
“Okay, sit down.”
Damian took Jason’s seat on the bench.
Jason merely scooted over, offering his hand to Damian. When Damian understood what he meant to do, he rolled his eyes. “I’m not afraid of the pain.”
It was a lie, and Jason saw right through it. “Whatever. Holding hands when getting a tattoo is practically a tradition. You’re not getting out of it!” He laced his fingers through Damian’s right hand.
Lisa chuckled. “Do whatever you need to do, as long as you stay still.”
As soon as the needle began to pierce his skin, Damian was grateful for Jason’s hand in his. The pain was bearable—of course it was—but it was nice, having something else to concentrate on so the memories of the times he had been trained to withstand torture would not crop up without his bidding.
It was just one of these things… Jason saw right through you, every time. Damian never felt so seen as when he was with him. But he never pushed, never demanded that you change or heal at anything but your own pace.
“Damn, you’re smiling. Must really not hurt,” Jason commented, but Damian could hear the smile in his voice without looking up.
It didn’t take long to finish the tattoo at all.
“That’s it,” Lisa told him as she wrapped it. “You’re all set. Let me get you a care sheet…”
With great daring, Damian gave Jason’s hand a gentle squeeze in thanks. Something in Jason’s expression changed, and he squeezed back, looking softer than Damian had ever seen him.
The nervous tension was back in Damian’s stomach, but this time, he didn’t mind so much.
His good mood held all the way home. Drake was sitting at the kitchen table, probably deep into either a complicated case or a YouTube binge. One never knew. They greeted each other with a nod and proceeded to ignore the other.
As he munched on a veggie burrito, Damian considered his wrist. Enough time had passed that he could remove the bandage, so he did. The writing stood out crisply against his skin. It was a bit smaller than Jason’s, Damian realized, but that was fine; his wrist was thinner. Hopefully, the artist was as good as Jason said, and the ink would continue to look good on his own darker skin.
On impulse, he took a picture of the tattoo and sent it to Jon. The reply came almost instantly: Wicked!! Is that an ‘I died’ thing or some reference I’m not getting?
Damian smiled. Just wait until he told Jon the full story of tonight—a hand dropped down on his shoulder. “What’s got into you?”
For a moment, Damian considered lying. Bruce would likely let him get away with it; they had established that much trust and boundaries, by now.
He decided against it. He was tired of the way Jason was still considered a sore point, something not to be mentioned in this family. Whatever this was, Damian would not hide it. So he stretched out his hand and showed Bruce.
Bruce frowned. “I thought you knew that we cannot afford any identifying marks.”
As if Damian hadn’t considered the question. “If they get close enough to see my unprotected wrist, I have already lost.”
“Besides,” Drake piped up, “it’s not like each of us doesn’t have a very unique set of scars. A tattoo isn’t gonna be what makes the difference.”
That worked. Bruce flinched, as always, at the reminder that he didn’t exactly raise healthy and whole kids. “I suppose.”
He didn’t ask about the word itself. Damian told himself he wasn’t disappointed as he watched his father leave.
He thought they were done, but Drake cleared his throat. When Damian looked at him, he visibly hesitated before stating: “That seems like the kind of thing Jason would do.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” Drake turned back to his screen, but Damian thought he was smiling. “I like it.”
“Thank you,” Damian told him sincerely.
“And, uh, good luck with that.”
Damian remembered the feeling of Jason’s hand in his and thought: I’m going to need it.
“Hey, remember when I asked you to get this tattoo?” Jason asked, his thumbing gently rubbing over the script on Damian’s wrist.
Damian straight up laughed at him.
Jason had to grin, too. “Yeah, okay, you do. You remember how nervous I was, asking you to do it?”
“I was eighteen,” Damian pointed out drily. “You could have thrown up in front of me, and I would have thought the world of you.”
“Eww. I’m trying to be romantic here, babe.”
“My apologies.”
“I might’ve noticed, though,” Jason told him. “That you had a baby crush, I mean. Was trying to decide what to do about it.”
Damian stared. “And you thought a good way to ask me out was to get matching tattoos?”
Not that it hadn’t worked, but that was one of the stupidest plans Damian had ever heard.
“Nah, I just wanted to have it, and I thought you’d appreciate the question. Didn’t expect you to go for it, to be honest.” Jason paused. “Though I gotta admit that the thought crossed my mind.”
Damian cast a glance toward the heavens even as warmth filled his chest. His beloved was, as Timothy liked to phrase it, a dork.
Jason’s thumb running over his wrist slowed, stopped. “I think it needs a touch-up.”
“Does it?” Unwilling to remove his hand from Jason’s grasp, Damian craned his neck to see the tattoo. It was a little grey and faded around the edges… “I guess.”
“We should get an appointment together so I can hold your hand again.”
“I’m not afraid of the pain,” Damian reminded him.
“I know.” A fond grin. “Can I hold your hand anyway?”
“Always.”
#damijay#advent calendar 2019#elareine writes#sorry for the delay!#was all i could do to get some sleep this week#but i'll try to catch up today#get ready to be spammed
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Corkscrew
By Jason Goldtrap
March 9, 2021
When I was growing up in the 70s and 80s, my hometown, Nashville, Tennessee, had a musical theme park called Opryland USA. Aside from the standard thrill rides, the park was noted for dozens of shows featuring Country, Rock, Gospel, Bluegrass and Broadway. The king of the attractions was the Wabash Cannonball.
Named after the song popularized by Roy Acuff, the Wabash Cannonball was a corkscrew roller coaster. Ten models were built by Arrow Dynamics, the first one debuting at Knott's Berry Farm in Buena Park, California in 1975. Opryland USA opened their coaster that same year in the State Fair section.
My parents loved roller coasters, and still do though time has tempered active involvement in the subject. As a family we all loved going to the park. I would ride all the rides along with them except for one: the Wabash Cannonball.
From my perspective it was just too intimidating. Even today, I still get fearful around roller coasters which is part of their appeal. I pictured myself flying out of the seat and rocketing into the ground.
As a little kid, with mommy around, I had an excuse to sit this one out. That changed as I matured.
Thirteen-years-old, going to the park for the first time without parents. Lots of running, drinking far too much Orange Fanta, two cardboard containers of popcorn, playing video games that I could already play at the skate center and, well, bodily noises offered for amusement rather than necessity. We could ride the Flume Zoom as many times as we wanted. We'd rear-end antique cars on the guided track where you could press the hammer down with speeds up to 7 mph.
Inevitably though, someone would suggest my foil, the Wabash Cannonball. "Um.... I have to sit this one out." I would flood them with laughable excuses about not feeling well. And, eventually, they would give up coaxing me. I would sit on a bench beneath the second loop and try to wave. They would dart out of the station hyped up on adrenaline.
"Wanna ride again?"
"Yeah!"
I was silent.
They would race back to the station. I would people watch. Head to the petting zoo. Long for a square of Smoky Mountain cashew fudge which I could have eaten if I had not wasted $2 on Space Invaders and Pac-Man. On the third go around, one of the fellows would feel a tinge of sympathy for me and we would move on to the bumper cars or the spinning swings.
It went on like this for weeks until one day when my band of brothers ran into a similar sized group ....of girls.
"Hey Joan!"
"Michael. What are you doing here?"
"Having fun. Who are your friends?"
"Well you know me and Betty from school. This is Rhonda who goes to my church and my neighbor Melissa."
We exchanged pleasantries. Awkward silence seeking cues for conversation.
Michael stated, "We're about to ride the Wabash Cannonball. You wanna come with?"
Joan smiled and nodded. She received a tug from behind. "One second." The girls clutched together to analyze the situation and discuss limits to potential affection. She turned around and spoke for the other hens. "Sounds like fun... except Rhonda here is too scared to ride it."
I got a slap on the back. "Jason will ride with her." Suddenly, the world grew dim as if I was suddenly thrust across time and space. Frozen. Confused. Before my mouth could utter the words, "Well I..." The boys and girls began to pair up.
"Are you afraid of coasters too?"
I confidently shook my head, "No. Rhonda. Absolutely not."
"Let's go!"
We walked the seemingly 2,000 mile long trek from Doo Wah Ditty City to the State Fair. Not much on conversation. Occasional, stolen glances. Evaluation. Rehearsed lines. Hoping my voice won't squeak.
During the 30 minute wait in the sweltering sunshine I actually opened up to her a little. She told me of her life. She liked horses and even once rode an elephant at the Knoxville Zoo. We discussed our mutual fondness for Gatlinburg, Star Wars, volleyball and watermelon. We relaxed and became new friends.
And then it was our turn at the ride. We were too busy talking to realize that we had seats on the front row! I snapped my head to Chris. Hers to Joan. Was this a prank? Did they realize the enormous pressure we had been voluntarily pushed in to? She tried to communicate her concerns via telepathy which is common to females, especially in mating season.
Undaunted, I slid past my self built brick wall of trepidation and took my seat in the front car. She gave a coy smile and gracefully sat by my side. The train lurched forward. Jerk. It connected with chain. During the ascent I imagined a cartoonist scene in which the 85 foot peak of steal and bolts made sport of me with each half a foot rotation.
I prayed. Nothing too elaborate. Just a plea to not throw-up on her. I began to silently whisper "amen" when I felt a hand being delicately intertwined in mine.
The car gently rounded an elevated curve. Before I could say something clever we both began screaming as the floor escaped us as we hurled down at 48 miles per hour. Up a little. Another sharp banked turn followed by a nose dive. The first loop lay ahead. I was too distracted by the gravity of the moment by the hand holding to notice that this acceleration was slugging me into the first swirl. I was upside down and then once more.
"Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh! Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha. That was fun!"
I had stepped aboard a child but now I was a man!
We all clapped and begged for one more go around from the teenage thrill engineer. Maybe there was a lightning bolt from Heaven or she was too busy chatting with a co-worker to notice that she forgot the breaking switch. Jerk. Chain connection. We were going for a coveted and rare second ride!
This time my heart was thrilled and somewhat disappointed that Rhonda removed her hand to clap. And, once complete, did not return to my velvet fingers. But, that was ok. I was having fun.
As we got off the ride the coed group took a break from each other. The girls needed conversation and play-by-play analysis while the guys just pushed each other around.
Rhonda, from a distance, turned my way with a flirtatious grin before her visage lowered as she was told the real story of Jason Goldtrap: the dork. She even looked at her hand and wiped it on her Capri pants. I could see her guffaw, "He picks his nose in public?"
Reunion. We rode a few more rides but that was it for me and Rhonda. I talked to the other girls a little but there was no connection.
The speakers echoed. "Opryland USA will close in thirty minutes."
We disbanded and walked separately to the long line of station wagons. We were three years far from automotive liberation. I lost her in the dark.
I never heard from Rhonda. I never even considered calling her or asking Joan about her. We were two ships that passed in the night... and sunk.
That day I conquered one fear and, for one minute and 28 seconds felt invincible. That is part of the magic of a theme park. Escape. Innocent, affordable fun. Acceptable thrills mixed with surprising spurts of physiological growth.
In 1997, Opryland USA closed and replaced by a mall. I always feel sad for cities that lose their amusement parks. They are losing so much in the way of togetherness, family memories and funny and romantic tales to share with future grandchildren. You don't get that from a mall.
As far as I can tell, there is only one corkscrew roller coaster still in operation in America. It is named the Corkscrew and it's at Silverwood Theme Park in Athol, Idaho.
After the park closed the Wabash Cannonball was sold to Old Indiana Theme Park in Thorntown, Indiana but not reassembled. Sadly, it laid in an open field until it was finally scrapped in 2003.
Thanks to YouTube you can take one last ride. Enjoy.
https://youtu.be/OLtO06SC-Lc
0 notes
Text
FMA Prompt Drabbles?
So I found this glorious list of prompts which I’ll reblog but they inspired this weird, rambling, sort of crack fest (more under the cut!);
~
If you asked Roy Mustang he would’ve told you that terrorists were getting stupider every fucking year. Sure attacking Mei’s wedding seemed, on one level, a logical strike against the Amestrian-Xingese alliance. Until you remembered it was also Alphonse’s wedding and hence an Elric Wedding. So Roy and Edward and Alex and Riza and everyone else were in rapt attendance when the armed gunmen broke down the chapel doors. And when the best man and the groomsmen flew into action.
“Mustang up high!” Edward called.
And so everyone ducked.
And so Roy snapped his fingers.
Because who doesn’t bring their transmutation gear to an Elric Wedding?
~
It was a mistake to let Edward give a speech at the wedding. He does a wonderful job, don’t get it wrong, but Roy is hissing with laughter and Alphonse is so red he has to physically wrestle the microphone from his brother lest the eldest blonde finish his train of thought.
“Listen up!” Alphonse roars. “I hate all of you! You especially!” He assures Edward and then, heaving, lets go of some tension to finish; “That’s it. That’s my announcement.”
~
Edward is plainly determined to dance with everyone; Riza, Mei, Winry, both the Armstrongs, Alphonse, Sig, Ling, Havoc…
“And here I was thinking you’d forgotten me!” Roy snorts as Edward rounds the table in a bounce and grabs him by the upper arm.
“Sometimes you just gotta dance, General.” Edward answers. “So come on! Up!”
“Coming, coming…” Roy chuckles. “Easy on the merchandise Fullmetal.”
Edward hauls him onto the dance floor when he doesn’t move fast enough and Roy is having too much of a good time to tell him off for it. He might be a little drunk at this point. Still dancing is easy and dancing with Edward? Well they might as well be sparring! They don’t fight together often, not full pedal, but when they do they move in tangible unison like this.
~
They dance too hard. Roy swings Edward out far and something—“OW! Fuck!” The blonde hisses, wrenching his automail arm away. Because no arm, automail or otherwise, is meant to bend like that.
Roy winces.
“Are you alright?” He asks.
“Yeah- Ow…” He rolls his shoulders, trying to adjust the arm. “Shit, Winry’s going to kill me!”
“She won’t kill you,” Roy promises, but then he spies Miss Rockbells’ eyes narrowing across the dance floor in interest. In an instant Roy has Edward’s other hand and whispers. “Though if there was ever a time to start running, now would be it.”
Edward bolts.
~
Roy finds Izumi and Edward outside an hour later when he leaves the reception hall for a cigarette. Hands stuffed in his suit pockets he saunters to them and they welcome him into their closed knit conversation readily.
“How’s the arm?” Roy asks, offering the cigarette to Edward who refuses with a cough and a wave of his flesh hand.
“It’s good,” Edward splutters, “Sig popped everything back into place.”
“It is holding together with spit, gum and a dream.” Sig clarifies softly.
“Ah shuddup,” Edward dismisses, “it’ll be fine!” Still Edward turns to Roy with a kind of fear in his eyes. “Walk me back inside?”
“Not a chance,” Roy laughs, “incase you haven’t heard, there is a bounty on your head.”
“Shiiiit…” Edward moans into his hands.
~
Eventually Edward goes back inside. He and Winry claim a table and pulling screwdrivers from somewhere Miss Rockbell dismantles and reassembles his arm right there on the table. Roy can hear them bickering as he dances with Riza for the sixth time.
“I said ‘break a leg’, not you arm!” Winry hisses. “It’s a euphemism Edward.”
“Maybe it’s a pun? Ever thought about that?” The alchemist grunts.
“That’s not how puns work!”
The arm is amazing. Winry must have a sharp mind, Roy decides; another prodigy. He tucks the knowledge away content to take the moment to rest his chin on Riza’s head. Meanwhile Edward and Winry look suddenly sheepish.
“You gearhead!” Edward whispers sharply.
“I-it’s not my fault you bloody arm got oil on the table cloth!”
“You’re the one who pulled it apart!”
“You broke it!”
~
Edward is very drunk very early in the night but patting him on the back Roy shoves a canister of something under his nose as he sags in his seat at the bridal table.
“Ugh no!” Edward dismisses.
“Drink Elric,” Roy orders.
“You’re going to kill me!” Edward whines but drinks anyway—“Hey!” He sounds thoroughly betrayed. “This is water!”
“You’re fading.” Roy chuckles. “You need to hydrate.”
“Going to fucking kill me…” Edward grumbles and sips. “Why’s it in a fucking canister?”
“Because I must maintain my image.”
“For the record; if I did die? I only have one regret, and its not flipping you off more when I had the chance.”
Roy wheezes.
~
Ling and Roy have been batting away dignitaries all night and they have made a game of it. Every time a certain minister or official comes their way they turn and say:
“Have you met my friend Edward?”
And Edward proceeds to ruin everything for everyone.
After a particularly incessant official is shown to this cruel and unnatural form of torture they retreat outside again. Roy and Edward are in the pergola then, talking shit, resting their weight into their joined shoulders as the fireworks boom and hiss and sparkle overhead.
“You’re a good friend,” Roy murmurs, “I hope you know that.”
“I am the best friend,” Edward nods solemnly, resting his head on Roy’s shoulder.
~
Of course a fight breaks out.
Of course Olivier is involved.
“No offense, but didn’t you just say we weren’t gonna be violent?” Ling leans over the body of her downed combatant.
“This is not violence, your Highness.” Olivier grunts. “If I were being violent he would be dead.”
~
The shuffle the man, Olivier and the whole scene away quickly before Alphonse even knows anything has gone on. Roy and Edward haul the man- Alex, actually- into the kitchen where they administer first aid. Sloppily, at best, because they’re both still drunk.
Eventually Knox sees them struggling and Ling raiding the fridge and decides to help.
“I hear you can get pretty ace medications with the right diagnosis,” Edward is talking shit, he’s good at that. “Think you could give me the right diagnosis Knox?”
“Well, let me see here…” Knox hums as he applies the bandage to Alex’s head. “No, sorry, the only thing I could diagnose you with is idiocy.”
~
Havoc’s the next one to break. Roy has him on his arm howling; “I just want to fall in love! Is that so hard?”
“Very hard Havoc,” Roy tuts solemnly.
“Oh without a doubt.” Edward agrees. “Love is fucking hard man. It anally rapes you.”
“What?” Havoc blinks.
“Love is a prison warden and you are it’s bitch,” Ling nods knowingly to Edward from the fridge where he is still rifling.
Edward salutes him with his drink.
Roy tips his own back.
~
Ling eventually emerges with the left over wedding cake. Alex and Havoc frown, Roy drinks, and Edward, always wise, supposes sagely;
“Cake? In this dire time? Yeah, sure, why not? We all die anyway.”
“Edward--!” Alex begins.
“Well said Elric,” Roy nods, eyes glossy with determined admiration. “Well said.”
~
It’s three am when Alphonse and Mei and the bridal car depart the reception for the honeymoon suite at Central Ritz.
“Floor it Al!” Edward hollers after the car.
Alphonse does not, in fact, floor it but there is a little toot in acknowledgement.
Edward is thoroughly disappointed.
~
The party does not end with the reception. A whole gaggle of them head into the streets when the venue kicks them out. They’re a motley crew. Ling and Edward are arm in arm, singing, and Roy still has his canister but he’s seemingly transformed water into wine and some point. He’s trying to find his land legs when Ling suggests;
“Let’s go swimming!”
“Let’s not!” Edward returns passionately.
“Why not?”
“I’m a third metal. I sink.”
“Well aren’t you special?” Ling pats his head dutifully.
It might as well be a short joke. Roy and Havoc start placing bets as Alex attempts to break up the burgeoning brawl.
~
They jump the fence at the amusement park. Ling and Edward anyway because Roy is too old and too rich to jump fences. Edward returns, moments later, throwing the gates open and, leaning wantonly into the post, declares;
“From here on out, you shall call me; Edward Elric Gate Master.”
“I’m aiming for Ling Yao; Pussy Smasher, personally. But yours is nice too.”
~
Ling and Havoc reach an agreement in the amusement park;
“Jean you will operate this equipment, I shall try not to die, and then we’ll swap places. Deal?”
“Deal!”
While they wrestle with the commands of this or that harmless fair ride Roy wonders if they’ll get arrested but then there’s very little in this place that can break that they can’t fix.
Edward is talking to Armstrong, who is looking rapt, and nodding sagely (because a drunken Edward is a sagely one evidently) the blonde adds;
“I never wanted to die, but to be immortal, that sounds awful too. Paying taxes? Forever? Nah man.”
Truly, Edward is the philosopher of their age.
~
They get on the subject of childhoods. It becomes a pissing contest quickly. Ling is convinced his childhood of near servitude and constant fear of assassination is plainly the worst option. Especially compared to the luxury and splendour of Alex’s loving homestead.
Havoc has very little to contribute, is not even going to participate but supposes; “It was just me, mum and the dogs and living with seven dogs really opens your eyes to a lot of things.”
Roy tsks.
“I was raised in a brothel,” he recounts and then, just to stir the pot, brazenly lies; “and there were no such thing as birthdays.”
“I had to sleep in a cardboard box when I arrived in this country.” Ling challenges.
“I lost my virginity under the bleachers at my high school. She gave me a cigarette burn on my--” Roy returns.
“Nah, nah, you’re both losers.” Edward commits to the contest recounting with some fondness the near idyllic conditions of his earlier years— “you know, before I tried to raise the dead n’ stuff.”
That shuts them up.
~
“I spent years keeping you out of trouble,” Roy moans. “Years! I could’ve devoted that time to a hobby, a pursuit, a spouse—”
“I don’t see what the big deal is!” Edward rolls his eyes, sick of this train of thought already as they walk home. Roy’s telling him off but Edward’s also holding him upright so he doesn’t fall flat on his ass so really the blonde’s not all bad. “For the most part, I am, in fact, an idiot. But I fully admit to it, which should count for something.”
You can’t really argue with that.
~
They discover a suspicious alley on the way home, when all other company has vanished, and swearing Edward rolls up his sleeves.
“Oh no!” Roy yanks him back by the scruff. “None of that.”
“Oh come on!” Edward moans. “Clearly there is something untoward happening thatta way!”
“And we are going thatta way!” Roy gestures emphatically to the well lit street corner. He just has to walk Edward Elric home, that’s it. The sun is rising. It should be easy.
“I am investigating.”
“Fu—” He’s not sure what he’s about to say but quickly he’s following because lord forbid Edward endure any milestone without at least one fatality. He curses his life; “how come it’s never, ‘let’s explore the ice cream section’? Or 'let’s try and find the cutest dog’? It’s always something horrible. Why?”
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
02/25/18: The Slanted Door-Vietnamese
Situated at the very end of the Old Ferry Building in San Francisco, The Slanted Door proves to be romantic and scenic. What better a place to celebrate my twenty-fifth birthday with my family. Upon arriving, I notice beautiful wood-slab tables before minimalist, leather couches. Staff members with business-like manners greet me. This is not to say they are cold, rather they are not ones for unnecessary pleasantries. Indeed, the staff fits well into the minimalist décor.
They seat us in a picturesque spot, albeit one that proved cramped spatially. Again, I notice right away simple, minimal décor at the tables. The menus, both in design and content, are consistent with this running theme: uncomplicated, modern, and simple. I, a fan of elegant aesthetics, am enjoying this.
My father graciously dropped us off at the restaurant, and then parked the car, meaning that we are short one member. While we wait, I take a moment to observe and consciously take in the setting of the locale. Although rather loud, it is oddly serene, even though the people next to me shove their groins in my face as they wiggle into their table.
A jovial woman attentively checks on us and has no issue with us waiting for our absent diner. I find this surprising. Usually, restaurants of this nature- the kind with coat checks and bathroom attendants- are keen on having every diner present.
I spend the time waiting and ruminating on what combination of items would taste best. My mother, though not a vegetarian, has a fondness and proclivity for vegetables. She suggests the five-spice cauliflower featuring Chinese bacon. My sister, having a preference towards shrimp, requests the gulf shrimp. I am a fan of most things; an adventurer in cuisine without many dislikes or restrictions. I suggest the imperial and spring rolls, as both are perennial favorites at other Vietnamese locales.
I want to get a cocktail, as I understand they are superb. Instead, I look to the tea menu. Coming from extensive tea menus, like that of the teahouse at which I work, and the connoisseurship of tea, I am not used to a simple menu like this. In spite of its simplicity, the menu features remarkably sophisticated teas known for being favorites among connoisseurs. For instance, they feature a 2017 Phoenix Honey Orchid oolong and maocha from 2013. I’m impressed.
My mother commands that I order everything, as she feels that I know the restaurant and cuisine best. Regardless of whether or not it is true, I accept. Ordinarily, I would not be as willing to take on the task, but today is my birthday, and I still accept the praise.
We then discuss tea and beverage options. My mother tells me she is considering the Gua Pian “Melon Seed” green, again, a well-known tea. I am considering maocha, as we have a hearty meal ahead of us, and pu-erh soothes me after dinner. My sister opts out of tea, as it is too late in the evening, and decides on a pineapple spritzer, which, admittedly, sounds delicious.
My father arrives, guided by the staff. I appreciate their courtesy and organization. Much like myself, my father is not one for pickiness or fuss, especially in food. He tells me he trusts my tastes.
With everyone now present, we decide on our menu for the evening: daikon rice cakes, spring rolls, imperial rolls, five-spice cauliflower, clay pot chicken, and gulf shrimp. My parents both order the Gua Pian, and I decide on the maocha for our accompanying teas.
Our server returns fairly soon to take our order, an accomplishment during a packed Sunday evening on the weekend before Valentine’s Day. A few moments later, staff members bring us our teas. To my surprise, they are not served in gaiwans, gong-fu style pots, or even small, restaurant-style metal teapots. Instead, they serve them in Hario glass pitchers-like those coffee shops use for pour-over coffee- containing metal tea balls and the respective teas. I feel perplexed.
According to The Slanted Door cookbook, chef de cuisine and owner Charles Phan met both Roy Fong and David Lee Hoffman, both of whom he cites as being pioneers and progenitors of both his own “tea program” and the larger tea industry. He also cites Fong as a personal mentor in tea, and describes his experiences in learning about it. Phan continues by saying that his education with Fong opened his eyes to the vast and beautiful world it offers. Consequentially, he wishes for guests to have the same experience of good tea, and mentions the frustrations with its at-the-time small presence. He even explicitly mentions and refers to his serving of high quality teas as his “tea program”.
Assuming all of these to be accurate, I feel disappointed already, albeit in something peripheral to the culinary experience. I am a firm believer that there isn’t a wrong or right form of brewing tea, even if it is in something unconventional like Hario pitchers and tea balls. I stand by that.
Nevertheless, I do take issue with an aspect of our tea experience: when my tea arrived, the staff gave me no sort of instructions on brewing guidelines. Though not necessarily a complete issue, it does make me question the customer experience of those unfamiliar with tea. My specific worry is that this style of brewing posits a scenario in which a customer unknowingly brews tea in such a fashion that isn’t doing it justice. As a result, they cannot understand and experience the complexity of tea- a contradiction to the aforementioned goal of serving the guest tea in an artful and enjoyable way.
Before I come off as overly critical, I present a few points in defense of the restaurant. First, due to my own self interest and career in serving tea, I tinkered with the brewing set-up and parameters to get a nice steeping. It wasn’t very much work. Second, it is a busy night. I know from personal serving experience that when the order of operations in serving is constantly in flux you, unfortunately, have to prioritize. It is entirely possible that the staff is diligent in their communication with the guest about the way to serve tea. Third, according to their website, The Slanted Door offers an afternoon tea service. I did not experience it; therefore, I cannot make harsh critiques of the tea program. Perhaps this teatime is more relaxed and focused on the tea experience, and can provide a better chance to drink it. Fourth, tea service in a restaurant setting-especially one such as this- provides challenges. A friend and I discussed this in detail before I began writing about my experience. Here are some of the challenges we covered: providing hot water; explanation to the guest on the brewing process and characteristics of each tea; formal staff training and education; serving size; tea ware; and integration with the cuisine, both in providing teas that pair well and ensuring that it does not interfere with the dining experience in any regard. Lastly, I still enjoyed my tea, even if in a context that I don’t prefer. While the tea did pose some challenges, I do not intend to judge the restaurant by its tea program. I digress.
(Note: Having voiced my complaints, I do plan a follow-up visit for tea so I can fully understand the scope of the restaurant).
After a surprisingly short wait, our first courses arrived. All of them are excellent. The daikon rice cake is well seasoned, and has a perfect texture. The spring and imperial rolls, although small, are vibrant and complex, but simultaneously so simple of a dish. They all disappear with great haste from our plates into our stomachs.
I enjoy hosting people, which means I have a habit of checking in with my guests. Even when I am not cooking for others, it is still of the utmost importance to me that everyone enjoys their experience. Despite the fact that I think I know the answer, I check with family. No surprise, everyone enjoys everything. In fact, all of us agree that there is no clear winner as they are all outstanding.
The tea is enjoyable, I have nowhere to be, I am 25, and the first courses piqued my interest and appetite. Our main courses arrive, though we did wait a bit longer than before. I don’t mind. We feast.
One aspect of our dinner that I notice right away is the seasoning in each dish. It is perfect: never too spicy or skewed in a particular direction, but always flavorful. None of these dishes ever contrasts each other in a negative way, yet they each stand out as distinct. I always appreciate this in food. Of the three, I found the clay pot chicken to be the most remarkable, as it has an extremely succulent texture in every bite.
If there were a dish that I would call my least favorite, I would chose the gulf shrimp. This is not to say they tasted bad, on the contrary, they were delicious. I simply feel that the clay pot chicken overshadows both the shrimp and the cauliflower, as delicious as they may be.
As we finish the last morsels, I check with my family again. We all agree upon the claypot chicken being excellent, but I know that my sister secretly feels the shrimp to be the best. I digress. Now it is time for dessert.
I always find myself torn after dinner. I enjoy many indulgences –after dinner coffee, desserts of all sorts, and digestives- but I have always preferred savory dishes. Although, tonight, I have especially conflicted as our options include: honey mousse, featuring pistachio butter cake, passionfruit gelée, and honey pistachio crisps; beignets with dulce de leche crema; and vanilla bean cheesecake with whipped greek yogurt, burnt honey cremeux, cointreau macerated blood oranges, and salted honeycomb crunch. Can you see my dilemma?
My parents, not one for heavy desserts, opt for coffee-a usual occurrence on their part. I finish the remnants of my tea, somehow both full and unsatisfied. I end up deciding against dessert, as I have cake at home. Perhaps I will return for teatime and enjoy one of their heavenly-sounding desserts. It is now time to go.
On my drive home, I consider every aspect of my experience: service, taste, creativity, atmosphere- all of the aspects that influence our gastronomic experience, and, ultimately, whether or not we return another day to enjoy ourselves. I find myself thinking of the expectations I previously held, and then compare that to the actuality of my experience. I acknowledge that this mindset does have flaws. In particular, we end up obsessing over why the result differed from the expectation. Though I keep telling myself not to, I cannot stop considering the discrepancy.
When I had first heard about The Slanted Door, I heard it hailed as the paragon of fine Vietnamese cuisine. I even heard it being described as “world class”. Even the reviews of it featured in the eponymous cookbook refer to it as such. Other critics professed Phan’s excellence in bringing Vietnamese dishes to the minds, mouths, and stomachs of American diners unfamiliar with the rich, dynamic cuisine. In simple words, it seemed to be the destination to experience it at its finest.
I, however, question that description. I did thoroughly enjoy my dinner, but I felt puzzled by its perceived excellence and its cost. Something- I wasn’t sure what, exactly-felt off.
After my two hour car ride and mental parsing out of the experience, I came to my overall conclusion: The Slanted Door, although modern and delicious, did not seem as innovative as I had thought. Furthermore, the price did not seem to match my expectations or the overall experience I had. In short, for the price we paid (~$200), I expected something similar to ADEGA, a wonderful restaurant with one Michelin star at which I have dined.
I realize this may come with controversy. But the fact is that many of the dishes, even the ones I had, could be found in similar or near identical forms at smaller, less-refined, even potentially-violating-health-code locales. Hell, my local Cambodian restaurant has a plate similar to the clay pot chicken at one third of the price, and is similar in taste. Although they may have been instrumental in exposing the zeitgeist to quality Vietnamese food in its earlier years, today they appear as an aging giant showing themselves as something larger than they really are.
I want to note: I am not dissatisfied with my experience. It was wonderful. Nevertheless, I am dubious of calling something “world class” and excellent when other establishments serve similar dishes at better prices. While this critique does discredit the veneer of a Michelin-esque restaurant setting and aesthetic, it is not to say the experience is all-bad. If you have the ability to afford it, do not deprive yourself of a good experience.
Atmosphere + Location: 9/10
Service: 7/10
Food: 7.5-8/10
Tea: 7/10
Price: ~$200 for 4 people, 6 dishes, 3 teas, 2 coffees, 1 sparkling drink
Classification: Higher End Dining: $$$/$$$$$
#The Slanted Door#Vietnamese food#restaurant reviews#higher end dining#maocha#oolong#phoenix honey orchid#Charles Phan#Roy Fong#David Lee Hoffman#tea#pu-erh
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Talk to me
So @coffee-randomness its not exactly what you had wanted but as far as first interactions go, this is what came of it. It grew a mind of it's own. There will probably be more interactions between hansa and roy but this is the first meeting. ~ "Teach me!" Hansa said looking at roy expectantly. Roy looked at her with a bored expression before asking "and why would i do that?" Hansa raised an eyebrow before replying "i've always wanted to learn archery, you have skill at it, we are trying to get along for Jason's sake, and i would actually like to be friends with you, Roy. Besides the shitty attitude, you seem like a great guy that i could get along with." "You aren't exactly a walk in the park either, you know" He retorts and Hansa felt herself glare. "That's a defense mechanism, you jackass. You just ignored everything else i said, part of which had a compliment in it, so you could be more of a jerk" She snapped at him before throwing her arms in the air and sighed. "I give up." She said resigned before heading toward the door. She really had meant what she said. Jason always spoke of Roy fondly though he would never admit it and he always looked a bit disappointed when Hansa rejected invitations to hang out with them. Hansa had just been being cautious. Here was a guy that Jason was close to whose opinion would matter to jason whether he said so or not. First impressions were important but she had apparently screwed this one up. ~ "Hey, wait up. I'll teach you if you answer one question." Roy called all but chasing after her. Hansa had paused when Roy called so he was basically right behind her. She didn't speak but gave a visible nod as she was still facing away from him. "My biggest thing is: how do i know for sure your not some gold digging whore?" Roy asked and would have continued if hansa hadn't whipped around at the word 'whore'. She had punched out catching Roy off guard and landing a hit on his jaw. "Ow! What the hell!" Roy yelled and Hansa stood there shaking with how furious she was. "Call me a whore again and i will do much worse. Don't test me on that, you won't like the results" she threatened. ~ Before Roy could interrupted, Hansa started speaking again. "As for the accusation, i don't give a shit about money. Is it nice to have for security, yes. Is it nice for impulse buys, yes. But beyond that it is worthless to me" "You think i only am with Jason for money? When i first met him and Tim, i had never even heard of Bruce Wayne or his adopted children." Hansa said and glared when Roy looked like he didn't believe her. She could get that she supposed, if she didn't know herself she would doubt there was anyone that hadn't heard of Bruce. "Tim was just 'tim drake, the boy in my history class among other classes that is a good partner for projects' and Jason was just 'jason todd, the guy i had honors English with for like a week that i like talking books to' " she said doing her best to hide the fond tone in her voice but failing. ~ "People like you never understand people like me. You don't get skipping a meal so younger siblings can eat" she said with a shake of her head before continuing "or being constantly hungry except on weekends because during the week, i live with the family my mom made where impulse buying leaves no money for food or savings" she found she was struggling not to work herself into a crying frenzy. "while on weekends i get to live with my dad where i am the younger sibling and where a balance between saving and impulse buys has been found." Hansa was grimacing and cursing her inability to no overshare when emotional. "You don't know what thats like or what it's like to have one thing left of food you were going to eat as you were starving but a younger sibling got there first" she couldn't stop herself from venting about this but she wished it was to someone else. "so you have to starve for longer until you find food while feeling that your sibling would rather eat and let you starve to death than let you have some food when they are just kinda hungry" Hansa finished and covered her mouth with her hand before just running from the building. ~ She ignored Roy calling out for her to wait and she ignored Jason asking if she was alright before she ran past him. She felt humiliated and the worst part was she could only blame herself. While she might hate it, Roy had sounded genuine when he asked his question. He had been concerned that Jason could be hurt by her and she could respect that. Hansa only stopped moving when she found a small hidden spot next to the water. She wondered what would happen now. Tim knew about pretty much all her life but she had been able to wave off Jason about it, though she was pretty sure Jason and Tim spoke about it behind her back. ~ "So all in all it's been a terrible day" Hansa said summarizing the day in a sentence for herself. She wanted to laugh when it started to rain. Most people would count that as making the day worse but Hansa thought it made the day just a little better. Hansa stayed there in the rain by the water for a long time before she heard footsteps and felt a warm body sit next to her. She only glanced over a little and relaxed seeing it was the red hood. She thought she saw Red Robin nearby but she instead just focused back on the water. "That wasn't safe, you know. running off alone not saying where you were going just as the sky was growing dark." Red Hood said and Hansa wanted to roll her eyes at the change to his voice. "I honestly didn't care at the time and i haven't run into any bad guys so your point is moot. Even if i had, i am AR so your point is like double moot." She said in reply. "Damn it Hansa. I was worried. Did you and Roy fight or something?" Red hood asked and Hansa could just barely hear the tone to it that always screamed 'Jason' to her. "He didn't tell you?" She asked wondering if it was for her benefit or his own. "No. He was rather quiet about the specifics." Red hood said and Hansa could tell it made him more curious as well as more worried. Hansa squeezed the bridge of her nose between two fingers before sighing. "I tried to convince Roy to teach me archery, he said he would if i answered a question, i didn't like the question so i punched him in the jaw, i overshared, and i ran so i would have a bit of time to feel less humiliated." She said summarizing in a vague way. ~ She could tell by the way he was sitting that he was still curious but seemed to see Hansa was done explaining. Hansa sighed standing up before saying "i should get home. My mother is going to be more pissed than usual." Red hood stood and nodded. "we'll make sure you get home safe" he said and ignored the sound Hansa made the was a mix of amusement as well as half hearted offense. "Fine" she said with a shrug. Getting walked home by her friend and boyfriend who were in costume could be both good and bad. Good because she hadn't seen them much recently and bad because she could be a target in her civilian side now instead of just her vigilante side. "Tell Roy he owes me an archery lesson in like two weeks." She told Red hood before hurrying ahead to enter her home. She was met with her mother standing there tapping her foot. Hansa gave an apologetic expression that she didn't really feel. ~ she had a key so she could get inside. She had stopped feeling guilty about her nightlife after the fourth time she saved her mother from a mugger. She had almost broke cover the first time but as time went on she just wanted to shake her mother and tell her to stay inside at night. He father knew about Hansa being AR. She hadn't even known he was suspicious until he barged into her room just as she was putting on the mask. She was already in most of her suit by then and she had gaped at him. He had seemed frozen for a minute before telling her that they would talk when she came back from patrols. They had talked about the reasons she was doing it and whatever else her father wanted to know. It was later she learned that her father would start trying to gain custody of her. He was still trying for that but it was an uphill battle.
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
shichijyuniko
#七十二候擬人化
memory-memory
五感のキオク
coolcoffeeus-blog
For All Coffee Lovers :)
windowsandfeelings
Enthused.
garfeee
Garfee