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cozage · 10 months

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The Daughter's Return: Stories from the Vault

Some old stories from when you were a kid! This is LONG but its eight short stories from various ages of the readers life!

For those of you that might be reading for the first time, this is a prequel to The Daughter’s Return, but you can read it independently if you’re just looking for cute little stories!

This idea was sent to me by anonymous! CW: some mentions of child abuse (in Age 5 story and Age 11 Story) Word Count: 7.3k Part One | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Magic - Age 5

You had gotten hopelessly lost. You had told Marco you knew your way back to the ship, and you had stormed off. He was taking too long. And now you weren’t sure which way to turn. You had a great sense of direction at sea, but it didn’t seem to be the same on land.

Some men were talking nearby. They looked a little rough, but that never deterred your father from talking to people, and it wouldn't deter you. “Excuse me,” you said, and the men immediately stopped talking. “I think I’m lost.”

“Lost, huh?” The man with a scar on his cheek chuckled. “Too bad, kid. We’re busy.”

“But-”

“Hang on, Tank,” the man without teeth said. “I know her from somewhere.”

The two exchanged glances, and then crouched down to your level. You knew they would help if you asked.

“Where you gotta get to, little girl?” Tank asked.

“The docks,” you explained. “My dad has a ship.”

Both of their eyes got wide, and they looked at each other once again.

“Say kid, what’s your dad's name?” Tank licked his lips. “Wouldn’t happen to be Whitebeard, would it?”

“That’s it!” you cried out. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” the other man said. “We’re good friends. In fact, we were just about to give him this too.”

The man held up a strange-looking fruit. You weren’t sure what your father would do with a fruit. There were plenty of normal fruits on the ship already. Maybe it was special. Maybe it was magical. It certainly looked magical.

“Let’s go, kid,” Tank said. He grabbed your hand and gripped it firmly. It was almost painful, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t want to be in more trouble.

The three of you walked for a long time, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were going further into the island. You were now in the middle of the jungle, and you guessed that the men were lost now too. You should’ve stuck with Marco. This was getting complicated.

“Listen Sunny, I don’t got a good feeling about this,” Tank mumbled, his eyes on you.

“What are you talking about? Listen, the N-”

“Shush! Not around the kid! She’s worth 10 million berries for a reason!”

“Hey kid,” Sunny said looking at you. “You stand right here and don’t move. We’ll be right back.”

He placed the fruit on a log nearby, and the two of them walked a couple of yards away to speak privately.

You knew you should spend your time listening in on their conversation, but you couldn’t stop staring at the black fruit in front of you. It was like it was alive, the undertones of the fruit shifting in color from yellow to orange to red, and then back again. It had to be magical.

You weren’t sure how you ended up beside it, or how it ended up in your hands. You were mesmerized by it. It would make a good gift for your father, but you wanted nothing more than to try it yourself first. Just a small piece. It wouldn’t even be noticeable. You closed your eyes and took a small bite.

It took everything you had not to gag. This was a terrible gift. It tasted horrible. You chewed, and then swallowed, and finally began coughing from the horrid taste of it. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“Hey! What the hell are you-” Sunny’s eyes got wide, and you heard him scream out a string of curses.

“Spit it out, you devil!” Tank screamed, running at you. “We can’t sell that to the Navy if you eat it!”

The Navy? No, this fruit was supposed to be going to your father. They had told you that.

Sunny got to you first, and he slapped you hard across the face. Your skin stung, and you could feel tears rising in your eyes. But you held onto the strange fruit. You refused to let it go now. It was your magic fruit.

“You little bitch!” Sunny screamed, shaking you like a rag doll. “You ruined everything! We were going to make a fortune off of that!”

“Sunny, relax,” Tank reasoned. “We can still turn the kid in. The Navy will give us more since she’s got powers now.”

“The Navy?” You were confused. “You were supposed to take me to my dad.”

“We hunt pirates. Which is what you are,” Sunny sneered. “You’re going straight to Naval Headquarters, kid. They’ll probably kill you the moment you arrive.”

“No.” You could feel tears rising, and you took a step back, trying to get away from them. “No. I want to go to my dad.”

“Get her, Tank.”

Tank’s large arms reached for you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You let out a loud shriek, hoping to attract someone-anyone-who might help. You held your magic fruit tight and felt a strange pull in your stomach, but you refused to open your eyes.

You couldn’t hear Tank and Sunny anymore, or anything for that matter. Everything seemed eerily quiet, even though you were in the middle of the forest.

When you finally opened your eyes, it looked like a bomb had gone off around you. You were standing in a hardened lava flow that stretched out at least 100 yards on every side of you. There were no signs of trees or grass, only blackened volcanic rock.

You heard the familiar flap of wings above you, and Marco dropped down in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, checking your body for any sign of injury. You flinched when he touched your cheek, still sore from Sunny’s slap. “Who did this to you?”

“Nobody,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. You couldn’t let him know you had gotten lost. You couldn’t let him know you had gotten hurt.

His eyes scanned the surrounding area, clearly in disbelief at the power emitted. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know.” You wiped at your eyes. Your throat hurt from screaming so much.

Suddenly Marco’s entire body got tense, and he pulled your magical fruit out from your hands, examining it.

“It’s for dad.” You sniffled. “That’s what the guys said.”

“What guys?” His eyes found the small bite you had taken, and they grew wide. “Did you eat this?”

You took a step back from him, afraid he might hit you too. Marco had never hit you before, but the fruit seemed to make people do crazy things.

“No,” you lied, trying your hardest not to cower.

“Y/N. Did you eat this?!” He shoved the fruit in your face, pointing to the tiny bite you had taken.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, falling to your knees. “Please don’t hit me. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Marco’s voice was instantly soft again, making you cry even more. “I’ve got you, kid. You’re safe.”

“It looked so good,” you cried. You let him pick you up, and you cried into his shoulder. “But it was so yucky.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, rubbing your back. “They’re not very yummy, I know.”

“I want to go home.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he took flight into the sky, holding you and your magic fruit tightly.

You must’ve fallen asleep mid-flight, because when you woke up, Marco was still holding you, but you were now on a boat. Home.

“What kind of fruit?” Your father whispered.

“Some kind with lava properties, it appears. There was a huge explosion, and I found her surrounded by hundreds of feet of cooled lava on all sides.”

“Hundreds?” Your father sounded skeptical.

“I can take you back to the place I found her, if you’d like to see.”

The thought of going back to Tank and Sunny made you let out an involuntary whimper, and you squeezed Marco’s neck. “Please don’t make me go back to the bad men. I won’t leave your side again, Marco. Promise.”

“The bad men?” Your father asked.

“Can you tell us about them?” Marco asked, prying you from him and setting you on the ground.

“They said they were bringing me and the fruit back to you,” you explained. “But when I ate the magic fruit, they got really mad at me and then they disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” your father asked, “Disappeared how?”

“I dunno. I closed my eyes and screamed and when I opened them they were gone.”

Your father gave Marco a quick glance of concern, and then turned his attention back to you.

“I’m just glad you’re safe, punk.” You father stretched out his hands and you ran to him, clamoring up onto his lap.

“You’re not mad?” you asked, looking up at him with big, watery eyes. “Even though I ate your fruit?”

“It’s your fruit now.” Your father laughed. “What’s it called?”

“The Vulcan-Vulcan fruit,” you said instantly, though you weren’t sure how you knew it. “Am I magic now like you and Marco?”

Your father gave you a big grin, pulling you in for a tight hug. “You sure are! But we're going to have to teach you how to use that magic, okay?”

“Okay!”

---

Trouble - Age 7

Marco pulled open the doors to the supply closet, and bent his head down to make eye contact with you.

“Whatcha doin' in here, kid?” he asked, seeing the guilt written all across your face.

“Hiding.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I’m gonna be in trouble.”

He smirked. So you had caused that fire at the base of the main mast. “Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, and he climbed in next to you and shut the cabinet door behind him. The two of you sat there in the dark, him waiting for you to speak.

“I didn’t mean to,” you finally whispered. “I just got mad.”

“What are we supposed to do when people make us mad?”

“They were laughing at me. Calling me princess and making fun of me. I tried to ignore them, Marco. I promise I did try!”

“They’re not trying to be mean,” Marco explained, but you shook your head.

“They were being mean! They weren’t being funny-mean like you or Thatch or Izou! They were just being mean!” You could feel the magma under your skin start to churn, making it feel like a thousand bugs were crawling across your skin. A slight glow came from you as you shifted in discomfort, illuminating the closet.

“Deep breaths. I don’t want this stuff to catch on fire too.”

You let out a small sob and buried your head in your knees. “Now you’re being mean! Just leave me alone!”

“I’m just teasing,” Marco said, putting his hand on your shoulder. He sucked in a breath at the heat you were emitting, but he didn’t remove his hand.

“I hate this power,” you cried. “I can’t control it! It’s stupid and it just keeps hurting people!”

“Breathe with me,” Marco said. You heard him take a deep breath in, and you followed his lead. When he breathed out, you did. When he breathed in, you did.

After a few minutes, you could feel your body starting to relax, the magma beneath your skin stilling, and peace returning once again.

“Can I just give this power back?” you asked. “It’s been two years and I can’t figure it out. I’m failing.”

“You’re not failing,” Marco said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You’re learning.”

---

Nap - Age 8

You preferred to sleep in your father’s study during the day. Marco always made you take a nap, but you didn’t really need naps anymore. You were getting too old for that.

But, when you were “asleep” in your father’s study, sometimes you got to hear top secret reports. Things only the reporter and Pops knew about. And you, but nobody knew that. So you didn’t mind nap time too much, as long as you got to be in his office.

Today had been boring, though. No reports at all. Just your father working quietly at his desk, the scratch of pen against paper slowly lulling you to sleep.

And then the door creaked open.

“Pops,” a man whispered. “We found it.”

Your father’s pen stopped moving, and your ears perked up as you laid against the cot in the back of his office.

“Found what?” Your father asked.

“The fruit.”

“Is it safe?”

The man sighed, coming into the room and taking a seat at the desk. “It’s with a kid.”

Your father paused, and you could sense him trying to figure out if you were asleep or not. You steadied your breathing and your heart rate as best you could, keeping your entire body still.

You heard him shift back in his chair, his attention turned to the crewmate in front of him. “A kid?”

“He just started sailing in the North Blue. Just a teenager. Trafalgar Law.”

“How the hell did a kid get his hands on a fruit like that? And where in the North Blue?”

“We believe he’s from Flevance.”

“Flevance!?” Your father’s voice was louder from disbelief, causing you to flinch. He lowered it again instantly, aware of your presence and not wanting to wake you. “So he’s a walking corpse. It's just a matter of time.”

“That’s the thing, sir. We have reason to believe he’s been cured.”

“With immortality? That’s not how the Ope-Ope fruit works. Someone else has to-”

“We’ve confirmed he’s the one in possession of the Ope-Ope ability. We believe he used it to cure himself.”

“Incredible,” your father breathed out. “He was just a kid when it went missing. He was that knowledgeable at such a young age?”

“It appears that way. But all files about Flevance have been destroyed, so there’s no record of his family.”

“I see.” Your father hummed, trying to weigh a decision. “Have we sent people to him? To invite him to join us?”

“He didn’t seem interested.”

“But he’s not hostile?”

“Unclear,” the man said. “We have reports that he used to be a part of the Donquixote Family, but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.”

“Any idea what caused the split?”

“No,” the man said. “But reports say Trafalgar disappeared the same time another member did. Code name Corazon.”

“Damn that Doflamingo,” your father cursed. “He makes a mess wherever he goes.”

“What should we do, Pops? Want us to bring him in anyway?”

“No,” he said immediately. “Leave him alone. Seems like that kid has been through enough. Just keep tabs on him, and let me know when he enters the Grand Line.”

“Sure thing. You sure that’s all you want to do? The Ope-Ope fruit-”

“Belongs to Trafalgar. He decides what to do with it. We should respect that.”

“Alright.” You heard the door creak open and shut once again.

“You are never to tell anyone what you just heard.” Your father’s voice was dangerously serious; so much that it caused the hairs to stand up on your neck. “Never. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

“Good.” He went back to writing.

You tried to sleep, but your mind couldn’t stop wandering to the boy in the North Blue. You wondered if he was nice. You wondered if you’d ever meet him. You hoped your paths would cross some way one day.

---

Stargazing - Age 9

“Marco!”

“I’m busy tonight.” The first division ruffled your hair playfully. “It’s late anyway, you should go to sleep.”

“But-!”

“Go on! It’s going to get crazy here in a bit anyway,” Marco said. “You know how Pops feels about you being out during party nights.”

“That’s not fair,” you pouted. “I’m still part of the crew. I should be able to party.”

“Maybe when you’re in double digits,” Marco jested.

“Really?!”

“Go!”

Thatch peeked his head in the door. “How about you come hang with me, squirt?”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “I’m not a squirt!”

“Of course. How could I forget?” He gave you a deep bow. “Your majesty.”

You giggled at his actions, already forgetting about Marco. “Take me to the kitchen, Mister Knight!”

“Gladly.” He scooped you up and dangled you upside down, causing you to squeal in delight.

“No, Thatch! Not like that!” you giggled, squirming in his grasp.

“Sorry madam, I can’t seem to hear you,” he said, shaking you and causing you to squeal even louder. “You said just like that?”

You erupted into another round of squeals and giggles, and he escorted you from the room to the kitchen upside down. When you arrived at the kitchen, he easily tossed you into the air and set you on the seat in front of the stove. “What would you like, O’ Princess of the Seas?”

It’s the name that had been coined for you across the Grand Line ever since your bounty shot up to 200 million. Daughter of Whitebeard: Princess of the Seas. You had a love/hate relationship with it, but when the commanders said it, you thought it sounded quite nice.

“Ice cream!” you called, a glint in your eye.

“Aw, come on!” Thatch complained. “You know you can’t have that this late.”

You gave him the biggest pouty face and sweetest doe eyes you could muster. “Just this time?”

He let out a chuckle and shook his head. “You’re devious, kid. Devious.” Bending down, he pulled out two bowls and an ice cream scooper. You immediately dropped the act, a huge smile appearing across your face.

“Can we do chocolate?” you asked hopefully.

“Might as well,” Thatch sighed, opening the freezer. “You better eat all the vegetables I give you tomorrow.”

“I’ll help you make them, if you want!” You were bouncing up and down in your seat in anticipation.

Thatch groaned at your excitement. “I’m gonna pay for this, I can tell.” Regardless, he scooped out two heaping scoops for you, and two for him.

He slid the bowl across to you, and you immediately dug in. He watched you in humor for a few bites, and then began eating his own. “How’s your training coming?”

“I’ve almost got the hang of it!” you said proudly. “I can practice small stuff on the ship now.”

Thatch laughed. “You’re not a fire hazard anymore?”

You smiled at his half-joke. “Only sometimes.”

“Good to hear.” He glanced down at your already empty bowl and smiled, impressed with your eating skills. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Wait!” You threw your hands up, begging him to stop. “Can’t we do something else? Please Uncle Thatch?”

It was a desperate attempt, you knew that. But the commanders always melted when you called them uncle. It was the easiest trick in the book, yet they bent to it every time.

You could see a slight rose color dust across Thatch’s cheeks, and you knew you had succeeded.

“Fine, fine! Come on, I think tonight will be a good night.”

“A good night for what?” you asked, but he just picked you up and set you on his strong, broad shoulders, silently carrying you out onto the deck.

It was loud outside. You had to cover your ears from all the music and the screaming. But Thatch didn’t head toward the party. He turned and the two of you snuck up the stairs to the back of the ship.

It was significantly quieter back here, like someone had placed a wall between you all and the party. He set you down at the very back of the boat, and laid down next to you.

“What are you doing?” you stood over him, pouting downward.

Thatch just laughed. “You’re looking the wrong way, kid.” He pointed to the sky. “Look up.”

You followed his finger upward, and found a sky more full of stars than you had ever seen before.

“Woah,” you breathed out, full of amazement and wonder. “There’s so many.”

“Lay down.” He patted the deck next to him, and you did what you were told. “If you watch closely, you might see a shooting star.”

“Really?” you gasped, your eyes scanning the sky even more intensely. You were attempting to look at every place at once, desperate to find what he had promised.

“Just pick a piece of the sky and watch it,” Thatch advised. “You’ve really never done this?”

“A few times,” you admitted. “But the sky has never looked this radent.”

“Radiant,” Thatch corrected, a smile on his lips. “Guessing you read that in one of your books.”

“Yeah. Sometimes-oh! There!” you pointed to the streak of light across the sky. “Did you see that one!?”

“Yeah! Good eye,” Thatch noted. “You’re very observant.”

“Dad says I’ll make a good strategist.”

Thatch glanced over at you. “Do you want to be a strategist?”

“I think so.” You kept your eyes on the sky. “I don’t know though. Sometimes it’s overwhelming to think that much.”

“You seem to like correcting Marco in the meetings.”

“Well, he doesn’t think of all the things he should!” Thatch laughed at your comment, but he didn’t say anything more.

“There’s another one!” you cried after a few moments, pointing at the sky.

“Gah! I missed it! Well, make a wish.”

“A wish?” you asked. You hadn’t heard of that before.

“It’s a thing you do in the North Blue. If nobody else sees the shooting star, you make a wish and they say it’ll come true.”

“But it won’t actually come true, right?” you reasoned. That was silly.

Thatch just shrugged. “Might as well try. What does it hurt?”

And so you closed your eyes and thought about what you wanted to wish for. A friend. That would be nice. One your own age. One who you could play games with and laugh with and tell secrets too. You wished for a friend.

“I made my wish,” you said, opening your eyes again.

“Don’t tell me what it was. You have to keep it a secret.”

“Okay,” you agreed. You watched the sky for a little while longer, but you didn’t see any more shooting stars. You must’ve used them all up on your wish. “Hey Thatch?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for never making fun of me. Like when I mess up or stuff.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” he asked. You could hear the confusion in his voice.

“Some people do. But you don’t. So…thanks.”

“Sure, kid. Let me know if I ever hurt your feelings or I accidentally make fun of you, okay?” He sighed, and you could hear that he was struggling to stay awake. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.”

“I like stargazing,” you said, your eyes starting to droop.

“Me too, kid.”

---

Friend - Age 11

You were eleven when your wish came true. You wished on several stars since that first one, an overwhelming amount of them were spent on a friend your age. And there she was. Standing in front of you. She was slightly taller than you, and maybe a year or two older. But she would do.

“This is Whitey,” your father said, introducing you to the new girl. “She’s joining the crew as your new sister, so make her feel welcome.”

It took approximately four hours for you and Whitey to become best friends. The two of you shrieked with joy as you trampled across the deck. You bulldozed through people without a care in the world.

At night, the two of you hid under the covers, whispering secrets while you held your hand over your mouth to muffle the giggles. You made up stories and told her about the crew, and she told you about her life hopping from island to island, working under new people every few years.

One morning, it was just you and Thatch in the kitchen. You swung your feet while you sat on the barstool, waiting for Thatch to finish your eggs. You had heard enough stories, but you were afraid to ask Whitey directly. You didn’t want to lose a friend. Thatch wouldn’t make fun of you for asking, though.

“Was Whitey a slave?”

You heard Thatch make a garbled noise, like you had caught him off guard with your question. “What makes you think that?”

“The stories she told me. She moved around a lot, and the people were always really mean to her. She has a lot of scars on her hands.”

“Observant as always,” Thatch mumbled. “Yeah. Pops and Marco found her in the street, searching for food. But she used to be a slave.”

“Did we kidnap her?”

“You can’t kidnap a slave, kid. You free them.” He plated your egg, and threw some bread on the pan to toast it.

“So she’s free now?” you asked.

“Yep.”

“But she’s a kid.” Your brows knit together, trying to understand. “Kids are supposed to be with their family. Shouldn’t we take her back to her parents?”

“We’re her family now,” Thatch explained. “That’s what matters.”

“What if her parents miss her?” you asked. “Pops would miss me if I found another family.”

Thatch put the toast on your plate and slid it over to you. You could tell he was thinking carefully of how to word what he wanted to say.

“I don’t think Whitey’s family was very kind to her. I don’t think they miss her,” he said. “I don’t even think they know her. She’s been a slave for so long, they probably forgot about her.”

“Forgot?!” you cried. “I could never forget my family! I could never forget you!”

“And I’ll never forget you,” Thatch promised. “But some families aren’t close like ours. Some don’t like each other at all.”

“That doesn’t sound very much like family.” You weren’t really hungry anymore. This discussion had made you lose your appetite.

“It’s not. That’s why we're Whitey’s family now. So make sure you’re the best sister you can be, okay?”

“Okay! We're gonna do Spa Day!” You jumped off the barstool and raced out the door. You had to make Whitey feel like the most loved person in the whole world. She was your best friend and your newest sister.

“Your breakfast!” Thatch called, but you were already gone.

“Whitey!” You jumped on her, still asleep in bed. “Whitey, wake up!”

“I don’t want to,” she groaned, flipping away from you.

“But we’re gonna have Spa Day!”

Her eyes peeked out from behind the covers. “Spa Day?”

“Spa Day!” you cried. “Come on!”

You pulled her out of bed and to the female bathhouse. You immediately stripped down to your underwear, but Whitey kept all her clothes on. The two of you worked together to fill the tub full of hot water, steam spreading throughout the room.

“Oh! I forgot!” you threw your back clothes on quickly. “I need the vegetables!”

“Vegetables?” But you were already racing out the door and back to the kitchen.

“Thatch!” you yelled, running into the kitchen. Marco was in there, and he looked at you in an amused manner.

“Is it inside-out day?” Marco teased, and you stuck your tongue out at him. In your haste, you had thrown your clothes on the wrong way. But that didn’t matter right now.

“Here,” Thatch said, handing you a basket. “There’s salts, peppermint, and lavender. Put those in the bath. Over here are the aloe-coconut facemasks, just apply those before you get in the tub. The cucumbers over your eyes. Got it?”

You squealed in delight. “Thank you!!!”

“I’ve got stones on the warmer for when you’re done!” he called out to you as you ran back to the bathroom.

“You spoil her,” Marco chided.

“Oh please, as if you don't.”

“Got the vegetables,” you panted as you entered the bathhouse, exhausted from running across the ship.

Whitey was still dressed, and you frowned at her hesitance as you stripped down. “Whitey, you have to take your clothes off.”

“What?!” You could see her cheeks pink. “All of them?”

“To get in the bath, yeah.”

“Maybe I could just keep my shirt on.”

“No,” you said. “The fibers get into the drain and clog it.”

“Well I don’t want to take my shirt off.”

You scowled. “Why not? I have mine off.”

You could see the panic in her eyes at your question, her entire body tensing. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Whitey-”

“Spa Day is stupid!” she screamed. She slammed the door as she left, making you jump at its echo in the room.

You tried your best not to cry. You really did. But by the time you were in the kitchen returning the ingredients to Thatch, your vision was too blurry to see his frame.

“She didn’t want to do Spa Day,” you sobbed, globs of lava mixing in with your tears. “She said it was stupid!”

“Oh, okay.” Thatch took the basket from you and set it to the side. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“I hate her!” you screamed, your skin starting to boil. “She’s so mean! She’s just like everyone else!”

“What exactly happened?” Marco asked, coming over to help mitigate your frustration.

“I told her no shirts in the bath,” you said between breaths. “Because that’s the rule!”

“Okay, uh, kid-” Thatch took a step back, letting Marco take over. The doctor had a bit more heat tolerance with your literal meltdowns. Your tears were starting to drip down onto the wood, burning holes into them.

“Y/N. Stop.” Marco said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I know you’re upset, but we’re not going to destroy Thatch’s nice kitchen because of it, okay?”

Your lips puckered out, trying to hold in your sadness. “Sorry,” you whimpered. You wiped the hot tears from your face.

“Why do you think Whitey didn’t want to take off her shirt?” Marco asked. “Think about it.”

You bit your lip, thinking long and hard about why a shirt was a big deal. “She’s embarrassed.”

“Good,” Marco said, nodding his head. “Do we think we can bend the rules for it this one time to make her feel more at home?”

“But-”

“The drain, I know,” Marco finished for you. “I’ll talk to Pops. Don’t empty the tub when you guys leave, and let me know when you’re done, okay?”

You looked over at Thatch, trying to ask him a secret question. Why was she embarrassed? You silently asked.

Thatch nodded, understanding. “Think about what we talked about this morning.”

Family? No, not that. Whitey used to be a slave. She had scars on her hands. Maybe she had scars on her back too. Maybe she didn’t want to show them.

“Thank you Marco.” You gave him a hug, finally calm again. “And thank you Thatch.” You ran over and gave him a hug too. “Sorry about your floor.”

“It can be fixed,” Thatch assured you. He handed the basket back to you. “Just like you and Whitey.”

You walked back to your room, your stomach bubbling with nerves.

“Whitey?” you knocked softly on the door, and then opened it.

“Go away.”

“We can still do Spa Day,” you said.

“I said go away.”

“You can keep your shirt on,” you said. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll keep my shirt on too.”

Whitey turned over to look at you. “You will?”

You nodded. “We can have Shirt Spa Day.”

Whitey giggled. “Shirt Spa Day. That’s funny.”

“Shirt Spa Day!” you chanted, and she joined in with you. The two of you skipped down to the bathhouse, still chanting your silly string of words, and solidifying a tradition that would last for years to come.

---

Learning - Age 13

You screamed out in frustration, volcanic glass shattering around you. You had been trying for days to get this new technique right, and you could never make it like how you were envisioning.

A small beam of volcanic magma. That’s all you were trying to do. But you couldn’t get right. It was either the wrong consistency, or the wrong angle, or didn’t even come out at all.

And this evening you all were leaving the island. It would be at least a few days before you could practice again. Not that you had made any headway. You were still back at square one. You hadn’t done anything.

“Looks like you're struggling,” a familiar voice boomed, laughing at your distress.

You quickly composed yourself, trying to appear somewhat level-headed before you turned to the voice.

“Teach!” you said, putting on a smile and giving a laugh. “Yeah, just a little bit.”

“Maybe I can help?”

You gave a polite smile, not wanting to appear rude. You weren’t entirely sure what Teach could do to help, since he didn’t have a devil fruit ability. But Marco and your father had left you to figure it out on your own, and you could use any help you could get.

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

“Just a thin lava stream projectile,” you explained. “One that can be small and precise if I need to take out one person in a group.”

Teach nodded, impressed with your idea. “Have you got the lava beam worked out yet?”

“No, that’s the problem. I can’t make it at all.”

“Let me see.”

You frowned, but you did as you were told. You held your hand out, pointing to a rock, and tried to make a small strand of lava shoot from your hand. You could feel the energy building up, like all of the pressure was stuck behind a wall.

And then there was a flash, and magma erupted from the ground around you, spewing hundreds of feet into the air.

Luckily Teach was far enough away that the blast zone didn’t hit him. He simply laughed at your misfortune, a loud booming cackle.

“I see your problem,” he said. “You’re too strong.”

You scowled at him, thinking he might be trying to make fun of you. “What do you mean?”

“You’re trying to make a tiny beam. But you don’t even know what the beam should look like. You’re doing too much at once and overloading your senses.”

“Marco said I should start small,” you said.

“Marco doesn’t have your kind of power.” He laughed again, walking over to you. “Look, kid. Just focus on making a beam. It doesn’t matter how big it is. Don’t limit it. Just envision a beam hitting, say…that rock over there. Try that, okay?”

You looked at your hands, skeptical of his advice. “Okay.” You took a deep breath, and held out your hands in the direction of the rock. “You might want to step back.”

“Don’t need to. Don’t kill me, okay?”

You couldn't kill Teach. He was one of the oldest members on the ship. He had always been there. You'd never forgive yourself if you even burned him a little. You had to get this right. You took one more breath, trying your best to center yourself and envision the kind of thing you wanted. And then, you pushed the lava out of your hands, aiming for the rock.

It hit. Exactly how you imagined it would. Well, it was kind of hard to miss the rock. Your beam was about 10 times larger than what you had initially wanted. But it was a beam.

You could hear Teach cheering behind you, whooping and hollering at your success.

“I did it!” you screamed, hardly believing it yourself.

“You’ve got power, kid!” Teach patted your head in approval, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. You had been failing because you had been limiting yourself. But you weren’t a failure. You were powerful.

“It’s my dream to perfect this,” you said, a grin on your face. “Perfect this and become division two commander.”

“That should be a pretty easy goal for you to reach,” Teach said. “Better start thinking of another dream soon.”

“Do you have any dreams, Teach?”

“We all have dreams, kid. I’m just glad I could help you get closer to yours.”

“What’s yours?”

He cackled at your question. “There’s a devil fruit I'd like to find one day.”

“Oh! Well, the Grand Line is huge, it’s gotta be out there somewhere. Any fruits I find you’re welcome to. ” It's the least you could offer.

“Well that sure is kind of you! I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

“I really hope you find it, Teach.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.” He sighed, a smile dancing across his lips. “But let's focus on you! Keep practicing! Make it smaller and smaller until you’ve got it the way you want. You’ll get there!”

It was the first time someone really understood how you learned and operated, and every move you perfected in the future came from what you learned that day.

---

Kiss - Age 16

You hadn’t expected your first kiss to be on your 16th birthday, but that’s just how it happened.

He was a new crew member, and he had caught your eye almost immediately. His name was Palms, and he was quite the looker.

You must’ve caught his eye as well, because every time you looked at him, he seemed to already be watching you.

The two of you played this silent game, flirting only with looks passed between one another, when finally Whitey nudged you.

“Will you just go talk to him! You guys have been fucking each other with your eyes since the sun went down!”

“Whitey!” you gasped, giggling at her bluntness. She rolled her eyes and waved you on, encouraging you to get a move on.

You met him over by the keg, and you filled up your tankard while waiting for him to speak.

“I hear this party is for you!” he yelled, trying to make his voice heard over the music.

“My 16th birthday!” You yelled back.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know! I would’ve brought a present!”

You gave him a wink. “You still have time to think of one.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, his eyes raking your body. “Yeah, I can think of one.”

You had never felt self-conscious before in your outfits, but Whitey had chosen this one for you, and it was a bit more skin than you were used to. But she had told you that confidence was key, so you gave him a smirk and walked inside the doors. You wanted a little bit of privacy.

He was a terrible kisser. Or maybe you were. You weren’t sure. It was your first time kissing, after all. But it was still euphoric. A rush of the senses, you could feel your body temperature rising in response to-

“Holy shit you’re hot,” Palms said, pulling away from you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that just happens sometimes,” you explained, rushing back to his mouth.

“No,” he said, pulling away from you. “You’re like, burning me.”

“Oh.” You could feel your cheek blush. Your skin started to churn, anxious at this new revelation. You couldn’t even kiss without your ability going haywire.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He said, watching the magma beneath your skin start to glow with slight concern. Not concern for you. Concern for himself.

“Yeah.” The moment was gone, and you only felt shame now. “Thanks for the birthday present.”

He gave a nervous laugh. “If you need another one when you cool down, you know where to find me.”

You gave him a polite smile and rushed out onto the deck. Instead of returning to the party, you went up the stairs and to the back of the ship. You just wanted to be alone.

You knew what some people said about you. How you couldn't control your emotions. And since your emotions controlled your powers, you couldn't control that either. People constantly questioned your father on your abilities, and his decision to make you lead strategist at such a young age. The only people who really trusted you on their teams were Marco and Thatch. The other commanders would tolerate you, but they would never use you to your full potential. It's like everyone was just waiting for you to mess up.

You leaned over the side of the ship as you cried, trying not to get any burn marks on the wood. You had been with your devil fruit ability for over ten years now, and you still couldn’t completely control it. You hated it. Some days you wished that you had never eaten that stupid thing, or that you had just let those men take you to the Navy and it-

“I thought we’d find you here,” Whitey said, coming up next to you. She gave you a light bump on the shoulder.

“We?”

“Come on,” Marco said from behind you. “We’re going to play Strategist and Commanders.”

“You said I’m too young for that.”

“Not anymore,” Thatch said, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re sixteen now, aren’t you? Welcome to the club.”

“But I’m just the lead strategist. I don’t belong to a division.”

“Don’t belong to a division,” Marco scoffed. “You can be on my team. Or Thatch’s. Whoever you don’t choose is stuck with Whitey.”

“Stuck with?!?” Whitey pouted, rolling her eyes. “More like graced with!”

“But-”

“Stop making excuses,” Thatch said, ruffling your hair. “Let’s go.”

You gave him a smile, already forgetting about your disastrous kiss. “Let’s go.”

Oh, they had no idea what kind of monster they had awakened that night.

Departing - 2 years ago

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Marco asked, looking at you.

“A lot of things will change in two years,” Thatch warned.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, adjusting your things on your back. “I need to do this.”

You walked over to Whitey, the goodbye you were dreading the most.

“You gonna be okay without me?”

Tears filled her eyes. “Yeah.”

“You don’t have to lie, Whitey. I’m not going to be okay without you either.”

She let out a soft sob, and clamped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be.” You wrapped her in a hug, crying too. Normal tears now, though your lava tears rarely affected your ice-witch best friend.

“I know you have to leave to get stronger,” she said, her voice muffled by your gear. “But I hate it so much.”

“We’ll have SO much to catch up on when I get back, though!” you let out a choked laugh. “We can stay up all night under the covers, just like old times.”

“Promise?” she sobbed, clutching you tighter.

“I promise.”

The two of you finally broke apart, viciously wiping the tears off your face.

“That was embarrassing,” you both said in sync, which started another round of laughing sobs.

“Y/N.” Your father’s voice boomed from nearby, quiet, but urgent. “We have a small window of operation to get you where you need to go.”

“Right.” You gave Whitey one more squeeze. “I’ll see you soon. And I’ll make a journal every day so I remember everything to tell you. You do the same.”

“Deal.”

You walked over to your father, towering above you. “Thank you for everything, Pops.” You tried to keep your voice level, but you could feel your lip trembling.

Thankfully, your father’s was doing the same. “I know this is the right call. The timing couldn’t be better. I'll remind you, you’ve already done it, but continue to make me proud.”

“I’ll do my best,” you promised.

“That’s all I can ask for.”

He pulled you in for a hug, and you could feel he was holding back tears, just like you were. You had never been away from your father, besides small missions and scouting trips. And now you wouldn’t see him for two years.

“Ready, Izou?” you asked, looking toward the man who would take you to Wano.

“Let’s go.”

You walked through the crowd, saying goodbye to the only family you had known your entire life.

“Good luck!” called Haruta. He had just joined, and you were sad you wouldn’t get to know him more.

“Get nice and strong, and come be our commander!” Teach yelled, and you gave him a grateful nod.

“We love you!” called a group of young adults. You spotted Palms amongst them, and blushed as you waved.

You knew things would be different when you got back. You just didn’t realize how different they would be.

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01@deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598 @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @aikochan4859

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#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #whitebeard pirates #op whitebeard #whitebeard crew #cozage

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 year

Text

Sweet Nothing (Superstar Chapter 6)

They said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving

You're in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

Roy and the Reader enjoy simple domestic bliss.

Roy Kent x Reader

8.3k words

Warnings: Language, mind-numbing fluff, an overprotective dad, allusions to smut

Wow, this came out kind of long! It was fun to write and I hope all this fluff was worth waiting for!

Keeley eyed me carefully as we ate lunch in my office, door closed to keep out all the men. After the Paris trip, we’d had a hard time synching up our schedules, so she’d finally cornered me and demanded a lunch date, kicking Roy out of the office in the process. We sat on the floor, shoes kicked off, stabbing at the salads she’d picked up for us.

“So, what about after the game?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “Did you join the boys’ clubbing? Jamie didn’t mention if you did.”

“Oh, no,” I admitted, taking a sip from my water bottle. “They asked me to, though.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Then why were you all dressed up?”

Suddenly, the tomato on the end of my fork looked really interesting and required all of my attention. “Who said I was dressed up?” I asked in my most disinterested voice.

“Only all the guys,” Keeley said with a giggle. “That little red number from the gala- you’re welcome by the way- and some heels with your hair all sexy.” She raised an eyebrow. “I think there’s a couple little crushes in that changing room, you know.” A smirk played on her lips. “Not as big as the one Roy has on you, of course,” she added.

I looked at the non-existent watch on my wrist. “Damn, is my lunch over already?”

“Come on,” she urged, giving me a friendly shove. “Where’d you go all dressed up?”

My story was ready to go. “Just went out exploring and wandering about. Found a nice little bar to sit in, read a bit on my phone.” I shrugged. “Nothing too exciting.”

“What about Roy?”

Once again, my salad was fascinating. “What about Roy? Didn’t he go out with the guys?”

“Nope,” Keeley answered, popping the “p” loudly. “You sure he didn’t join you at the bar?”

“He did not join me at the bar.”

You’re not lying, I thought to myself as I remembered our date at the Louvre, eating dinner with the Mona Lisa, followed by slow dancing in front of the statue of Cupid and Psyche. After that, we strolled around the museum, champagne in hand, gazing at the art. The whole time, I found myself wondering if I’d wake up back in my old room, its walls covered with Roy Kent, to discover the last four months had been a dream. Instead, I had woken up to find he’d run out to grab me a chocolate croissant for breakfast before the sun was up.

But Keeley didn’t need to know any of that right now.

Not that keeping Keeley in the dark was something I liked. Outside of a couple of my really good school mates, Keeley was quickly becoming my best friend. She was sweet, savvy, kickass and independent, and a great hype woman who made anyone feel like they could do anything. There was a part of me that was dying to grab her by the shoulders and scream, “I’m shagging Roy Kent and I think I’m in love with him!”. But I was loving the small bubble Roy and I were living in, where only Jamie Tartt knew about our existence and was threatened into silence. The little bubble where we were constantly holed up in my flat or his house, watching movies or making dinner together, drinking on his back porch and whispering sarcastic jokes late into the night, not having to answer anyone’s questions about how we got together or who liked who first or how someone like me got someone like him. No, thank you. Roy and I would stay in our happy little bubble for as long as it suited us.

“How do I look?”

I poked my head out of Roy’s bathroom to look at him. He was wearing- surprise, surprise- all black: black jeans, black shirt, black jacket.

“You look like Roy Kent,” I answered, running my brush through my hair. “Dunno why you’re so nervous. You’ve met them before. Don’t you remember my dad tackling you?”

Roy sighed and traded one black jacket for another nearly identical one. “Yeah, but that was as ‘Roy Kent, football legend’. This time it’s ‘Roy Kent, old man sneaking into your daughter's hotel room in Paris’.” He turned to me, waiting for my verdict on his outfit.

Tossing my brush on his bed, I strolled over to him and adjusted his jacket, fixing the neckline. “How about ‘Roy Kent, boyfriend who makes their daughter really happy’?” I offered.

A smile cracked through his nerves. “I like the sound of that guy.”

“Me too.” I kissed his cheek. “Now, let’s go so you can stop bugging me about my mum’s pasta.”

The drive to my parents’ was quieter than our usual car rides. It wasn’t hard to figure out why; Roy had already told me that he hadn’t met too many parents in his previous relationships. He was never really with someone long enough to reach that step, and the few times he did, it didn’t go great. He was especially embarrassed to talk about the mother who had propositioned him when her daughter was out of the room. Stories from Roy’s past made me sad sometimes; he’d had a hard time finding people who made him feel cared about for himself, not his skill or fame.

No wonder he clings to Phoebe and his sister, I had realized one day. I hoped my parents would join the apparently short list of people who made him feel special for just being Roy.

We easily found parking in front of my parents’ house and quickly made our way to the door. I carried a pie we’d picked up on the way over, and Roy held a bouquet of flowers he’d brought for my mum. As I unlocked the door, I glanced at him; he looked more nervous than the teenage boyfriends I’d brought home during my school days.

“Relax,” I whispered, planting a small pack on his cheek. “They already adore you.”

As if on cue, my mother yanked the door open, nearly ripping my arm off in the process. “We thought we heard something!” she greeted, ushering us in. She took the pie out of my hands as she kissed me on the cheek. “How was Paris?”

“Great,” I managed, closing the front door behind us. “The team won, and I got to check out the Louvre with Roy.” I shot Roy a knowing look, which seemed to relax him slightly. It also captured my mum’s attention.

“Roy, we’re so glad to have you over again,” she gushed, giving him a half hug that had him frozen in place.

When she pulled away, Roy cleared his throat and held out the flowers. “These are for you,” he stated, a bit stiffly. “I, uh, felt bad for interrupting your dinner last time without bringing anything so…” He trailed off, glancing at me as my mother took the flowers.

I slid my hand into his, giving it a small squeeze. “Where’s Dad?” I asked my mother, trying to put Roy at ease by taking some of the attention off him.

“Dad’s in the kitchen. Hope you don’t mind, we sent the boys to a friend’s house, so it’s just the four of us.”

Atta girl, Mum. My brothers were great boys, but they’d be positively tickled at the idea of having Roy Kent at their dinner table again and would probably be all over TikTok bragging about their “future brother-in-law” before we’d even had dessert. Just the four of us would mean that Roy could just be Roy, my boyfriend getting to know my parents, not Roy Kent, football legend and my lifelong crush.

My dad greeted Roy with a firm handshake, much calmer than the last time he’d seen us together. “How’re you doing, Roy?” he asked in a detached voice, as if he hadn’t been smothering the guy in the entryway just a few months ago.

“Good, sir,” Roy answered, more nervous than I’d ever seen him. “Yourself?”

Dad nodded, letting go of Roy’s hand. “Fine, thanks.” He quickly led us to the dining room, where Mum had clearly gone all out.

On the table was my parents’ best China that usually only came out when my dad’s boss visited or for my gran’s birthday, and there was a bottle of wine that I knew was twice as expensive as the kind they normally drank. Much to my relief, they (most likely Mum) had had the foresight to tuck away any embarrassing photos from my awkward teenage phase as well as that one photo my dad had of an extremely drunk me on my 21st birthday kissing my Roy Kent cardboard cutout, which currently laid flat under my bed at home, where Roy would hopefully never find it.

Roy pulled out my chair for me and then took the same seat he’d been in the night of my dad’s birthday. He shot me an awkward glance; God, this man had played in the freaking World Cup, yet here he was, jiggling his leg and blushing like a schoolboy on his first date.

Fuck, he must really like me, I thought to myself, feeling a bit stupid at such an obvious revelation. Of course Roy liked me; we spent every free moment we could together and when we couldn’t, we were constantly texting or calling each other. Heck, he’d even started using the Snapchat account Ted had made him sign up for so he could send me pictures of his uncle-niece dates. The man was clearly smitten, and the feeling was completely, totally, absolutely mutual.

My mother urged us to load our plates with pasta and salad, which Roy did not need to hear twice. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that he didn’t start eating until I’d taken my first bite; a gentlemanly gesture I’d never had a boyfriend do.

Once we’d all served ourselves food and wine and begun eating, my dad cleared his throat. “So how long… er, when did…” He gestured to the two of us. “When’d this start?”

I shot Roy a glance as I sipped the suddenly very necessary wine; his face had gone a little pale. Apparently I’d have to field this question myself. “Actually, when Roy popped by on your birthday,” I admitted. “Believe it or not, he saw all the posters in my room and didn’t run away.” I took Roy’s hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. “Since it was painfully obvious that I liked him, he asked me out the following weekend, and we made things official about…” I glanced at Roy, doing math in my head.

“A month ago,” he finished for me promptly, a shine in his eyes. “We went to this fundraiser thing hosted by the club owner and…” He trailed off with a shrug. “Dunno, we talked, realized we like being together, and made it official.” His eyes shifted to my dad, as if Roy was hoping he’d be okay with all this.

My dad was staring at Roy with an intensity I’d never seen in my life. Part of me could understand my dad’s hesitation to be as enthusiastic as my mum about this relationship; Roy had about a decade on me (though honestly, neither of us felt it), his temper on and off the pitch was nothing short of legendary, and, thanks in part to my stalker-like tendencies, my dad knew quite a bit about the rotation of gorgeous women who made up Roy’s dating history. During his last visit, Roy had just been someone I shared an office with, so Dad could fawn over him without a second thought. Now, Roy wasn’t just some girlhood crush on my walls, but a real, viable romantic partner. The concept must have been a bit terrifying for the father of an only daughter.

After the longest minute of my life, my dad spoke directly to Roy. “And you… you like my daughter?”

Based on his wide-eyed stare, Roy was not prepared for such a blunt question. “Oh. Um, yeah, of course, I really fucking like her.” Somehow his eyes grew wider. “Shit. Sorry. I mean-” He screwed his eyes shut and let out a tiny growl. With a sigh, he opened his eyes again. “Yes, I like your daughter. A lot.”

Dad didn’t seem ready to let up. “And you treat her well?”

Roy shrugged. “I’d like to think so. I respect her and try to make sure she knows I care about her more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. I like making her laugh. And once she decides she’s sick of keeping us gaffers in line, I’ll support her whatever she ends up doing.”

My dad stared at Roy hard, his jaw set. Come on Dad, ease up, I prayed. Go back to worshipping the grass this man walks on. Remember the way you sobbed when he walked off the field during his last game. Remember how much you want me to be happy. Please.

Finally, my dad nodded slowly. “Alright then. Thank you for your honesty, Roy.” He took a long sip of his wine as the rest of the table stared at him expectantly. At last, he set down his glass. “So, how d’you think the Greyhounds’ odds are for avoiding relegation this season?”

And that was it. The rest of the evening was a blur of laughter and stories and Roy getting second and third helpings of my mum’s pasta. By the time my mum brought out the pie, Roy and my dad had made plans to grab a drink later in the week to watch a football game together and my mum had promised to have us over for dinner again the following week. Roy’s face was full of relief as my mum gave him a hug and my dad shook his hand warmly.

“Was that so bad?” I teased once we were settled in the car.

He shrugged as he started the car, not hiding his smile. “I had a good time. Your parents are pretty great.”

I cleared my throat, keeping my eyes on the road. “Sorry about my dad, though. Not sure what came over him when we sat down.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffed. “You’re his only daughter. I’m an old man who has something of a reputation. Can’t blame him for not loving the idea of us together.” His voice was thoughtful. “But I hope he believes me when I say I really fucking care about you.” He took my hand. “And I hope you believe it too.”

I turned to look at Roy, who was already glancing at me. “I do,” I assured him. “And I really care about you too.”

Turning his gaze back to the road, Roy nodded. “Good.” He paused for a moment, clearly thinking hard about something. “Just… please don’t tell your dad about our sleepovers. Because with my shit knee, he may be able to outrun me.”

“Oh no, Roy. He could definitely outrun you.”

“Here you go, dear.”

“Thanks, Rose,” I murmured, taking my drink from her. I turned back to Roy. “Alright. Now you can tell me about practice.”

Roy sipped his beer. “Actually, I had something I’ve been thinking about lately that I wanted to ask you about.”

I tilted my head at him. “Anything wrong?”

“Well…” Roy bobbled his head a bit. “Just thinking about how unfair it is that I’ve met your family twice now, but you haven’t met mine.” He glanced at me, playful suspicion in his eyes. “Unless you’re one of those women who thinks it should be all your family all the time and my family can go fuck off a cliff?”

Puzzled but intrigued, I leaned forward. “Absolutely not. Did you have something in mind?”

He tapped the side of his beer bottle. “’ve been promising Phoebe I’d take her to see this fucking stage production of The Sound of Music on Friday. Take her out to ice cream or some shit after. You want to join us?”

While he spoke in that disinterested voice he often used, I could sense the apprehension beneath it. He wanted me to say yes so badly, to be excited to meet the most important person in his life. To be interested in every part of his life, not just football. This would be a key moment in our relationship, and Roy obviously knew it.

“That sounds great,” I gushed, taking his hand. “If I’m being honest, I’ve really been looking forward to meeting Phoebe.”

“She’s dying to meet you too, actually.” He rolled his eyes, as if he wasn’t talking about his precious little niece who was the absolute light of his life. “Been bugging the shit out of me about it ever since I first told her about you.”

A flutter ran through my heart. “You talk about me to Phoebe?”

“Fucking course. Don’t tell her, but that little idiot’s probably my best friend.”

“Don’t let Jamie hear you say that,” I warned with a grin. “He’ll get jealous.”

Predictably, Roy bared his teeth at me. “I’ve told you a million fucking times, Jamie Tartt is not my best friend. He’s not even my friend. I fucking hate that prick. I want to cut his face off and hang it up as a Halloween decoration so I don’t have to pass out candy to fucking trick or treaters.”

“Wow, your best man speech at Jamie’s wedding is gonna suck.”

Despite his best attempt at annoyance, I could see the grin Roy was trying to fight. “Do I have to do that shit where I kiss you just to shut you up?”

I shrugged. “Can’t guarantee it’ll work. But you’re very welcome to try.”

Work that Friday seemed to go in slow motion. It took all my restraint to stop myself from asking Roy a million questions about Phoebe, what she liked, what she knew about me (about us, really), how to make a good impression on her. Instead, I scurried around making sure Ted had a Spanish-to-English dictionary available for a Zoom call he had late in the day and giving Rebecca a non-answer when she asked about my weekend plans.

Finally, Roy and I packed up our things and hopped into his still ridiculous car, stopping at his place to change into what he told me Phoebe called “fancy theatre clothes” before finally going to his sister’s place to pick up Phoebe.

Shit, is this how Roy felt at my parents’? I asked myself as I shook Dr. O’Sullivan’s hand. Of course, I knew her face from the photos of her at Roy’s place, but God, she was beautiful in person. And the smile she wore told me that Roy had definitely mentioned me at least once or twice.

“Is Phoebe fucking ready or what?” Roy sighed after introductions had been made.

“Uncle Roy! Uncle Roy!”

A blur of blonde and pink launched itself at Roy, nearly toppling him over. Phoebe clung to her uncle and gazed up at him, her face full of that love that a small child had for her hero. My entire body melted at the sight of this little girl in a pink dress hugging him tight. Feeling like I was being watched, I glanced over at Roy’s sister, who was looking at me with a pensive expression. We exchanged soft smiles before both turning our attention back to Phoebe.

Roy crouched by Phoebe, ignoring the small crack coming from his leg as he did so, and gestured towards me. “Phoebe, this is-”

Before Roy could finish, Phoebe hurled herself at me, giving me a tight hug. “Oh my gosh. I’m so excited to finally meet you!” Her smile was infectious. “My uncle Roy really likes you.”

“No shit, Phoebe,” Roy growled. “Let’s get going. If you make me miss the opening song, I’ll leave you there and you can become another Von Trapp brat.”

During the ride to the theater, Phoebe asked me a million questions: about my job, my friends, my family, my flat, and what I thought the best ice cream flavors were. In turn, I learned about her school, her friends, her mother, which of her stuffed animals were her favorite, and all the things she loved about her Uncle Roy. By the time we’d found our seats in the theatre, Phoebe was holding my hand like we were the best of friends and begging Roy to let her sit next to me, since he got to sit next to me in the car.

“It’s only fair,” I pointed out to Roy, who smiled and rolled his eyes in that goofy way that made my knees go weak.

The first act of the show was as wonderful as I expected. Phoebe was entranced the entire time, and on her other side I could see Roy mouthing along to every song. We locked eyes a few times, especially when Maria and Captain von Trapp were onstage together. Each time we exchanged bashful smiles, as if we were kids with crushes rather than two adults in a fairly serious relationship.

At intermission, we found seats in the lobby. Roy headed to the line at the bar to get us something to drink, leaving Phoebe and I alone.

“Are you enjoying the show?” I asked, offering her my softest smile.

“Very much,” she said. “Uncle Roy’s made me watch the film about a million times, so we know all the songs. Do you like it?”

I nodded. “It’s one of my favorite movies, too. Can I tell you a secret?” Phoebe nodded earnestly, clearly excited to learn something so important. “I nearly always cry when Maria and Captain von Trapp admit they love each other.”

Phoebe giggled good-naturedly. “My uncle Roy reminds me of Captain von Trapp. Always yelling, but he’s really very nice.” She gazed up at me, a pondering look on her little face before she broke into a huge grin. “I guess that makes you Maria!” My tongue was suddenly too tied to reply, so she continued. “You know, Uncle Roy talks about you all time.”

Clearly, this was the topic Phoebe was most interested in. “And what does your Uncle Roy say about me?” I asked, humoring her.

“Well, the first time he talked about you, he was telling my mum that you had started working at Richmond and he was kind of mad that he had to share his office with you. But then Mummy asked if you were pretty, and he told her to shut up, but he was smiling.” She thought for a moment. “He also says you’re very nice and very smart and that the team would fall apart without you. And he told me that being nice to you is very important because you’re his girlfriend.” She glanced down at her sparkly shoes. “Uncle Roy never introduces me to his girlfriends.”

Part of me knew I should change the subject, but the part of me that turned into a giggling teenage girl whenever I thought about Roy couldn’t resist. “No?”

She shook her little head as she looked back up at me. “No. But my mum says you’re different. She thinks Uncle Roy is going to marry you someday. Would you let me be your flower girl?”

Before I could manage a response, Roy appeared, holding three glasses. “Here. Shirley Temples.” He handed one to each of us. “Don’t fucking spill on your dress,” he warned Phoebe. He sat down beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “What were you two chatting about?”

Of course, Phoebe pipped up before I could open my mouth. “Our favorite songs in the play. Mine’s The Lonely Goatherd.”

“That’s a shit choice,” Roy snorted.

While he went on a rant about why Edelweiss was a perfect song, I turned my gaze to Phoebe, who was already smiling up at me knowingly. Something in my heart warmed with the realization that I had made a new little friend.

The rain pitter-pattered against the window as I folded the laundry I’d managed to avoid for a couple of days. Some cheesy movie played on the television, more for background noise than anything else. My mind was occupied with thoughts of the weekend before, when we’d taken Phoebe on our second outing together: the zoo. She’d been thrilled to hold both our hands and explain everything she knew about each animal; she was especially excited to tell me all about how her Uncle Roy reminded her of the giant gorilla in its enclosure when it banged on the glass.

As if he knew I was thinking about him, Roy interrupted my thoughts with a phone call.

“Hey,” I greeted casually, pretending my heart didn’t skip a beat every time his name lit up my mobile screen.

“What’re you up to today?” he asked in lieu of a greeting.

I lowered the volume on the television. “Told you, I’m having my girlfriends over to have a proper catchup and grabbing drinks with them. I haven’t seen them since before Paris and I feel like I’ve been a shit friend since I started at Richmond.” Since you decided to take up my every waking thought.

“That’s not til tonight, right?”

Onscreen, the two romantic leads began their big blowout argument that threatened to break them up. “Yeah. But I’ve gotta tidy up a bit.” My curiosity got the better of me. “Why?”

“Got an errand to run and wanted your help.”

My curiosity increased. “What sort of errand?” I tucked my mobile between my face and shoulder so I could resume folding.

Roy sighed. “Phoebe’s been bugging her mum about getting a fucking dog, but there’s no fucking way my sister has time for one. So, I was thinking I might as well go down to the pound and get one myself so she can shut up already.”

I scoffed. “I’m sorry, you’re going to adopt a dog just to make your adorable little niece happy?”

There was a pause on Roy’s end. “Yes. That a problem?”

A smile crept across my face. “No. Just trying to figure out what Nora Ephron movie you walked out of.”

“Fuck you.” I could hear Roy’s smile through the phone. “You take that shit back.”

“Nope,” I insisted, my grin growing. “Sorry, you’re a regular Billy Crystal now.”

Now he scoffed, clearly offended. “Billy Crystal? Really? Can’t I at least be Tom fucking Hanks?”

Damn, I love a man who knows his rom-com leads. “If it’ll make you happy, fine. You’re Tom Hanks. Congrats.” I remembered the reason for Roy’s call. “So, why’re you asking me to go with you to get the dog? Not that I mind, but shouldn’t it be Phoebe? She’s the reason you’re getting one to begin with.”

There was a long pause on Roy’s end. With a deep breath, he mumbled, “Well, I kind of wanted to surprise her the next time she comes over. And I also kind of figured… I dunno, you’re my girlfriend and you’re here all the time, you’re gonna see the fucking dog a lot, I wanna make sure you like it too.” He paused a moment. “You could even help me name it and shit. If I let Phoebe name it, I’ll have a dog called Princess Sparkle Rainbow or something equally fucked.”

It wasn’t a big request; just go help Roy pick out a dog, maybe pop in a pet shop to get toys and food and a collar, talk him out of naming it “Fuckface” or some name Phoebe wouldn’t be allowed to say. An easy Saturday morning. If anyone else in the world was asking, it’d be an easy “Sure” and I’d have my shoes on already. But because it was Roy asking, the invitation to join him felt heavier, like it held some meaning other than “Come keep me company”. He wanted my opinion on this multi-year commitment he was making to whatever dog he found; that meant he expected me to stick around for a while, right?

Maybe Phoebe wasn’t so off base when she divulged her mother’s thoughts about Roy and me.

“Sure, Roy,” I answered after what was probably too long of a pause. “I’d love to help you pick a dog.”

Half an hour later I heard that familiar knock at my door. When I opened it, Roy immediately leaned forward to peck my cheek before he entered my flat, twirling his keys in his hand.

“You ready then?”

I nodded, closing the door behind him. “Just need to grab my shoes.” He lingered near the door as I quickly ran to my room to put on some trainers. When I came back, Roy was snickering to himself. “What?”

He shrugged, trying to compose himself. “Nothin’. I just really like your sweatshirt.”

Confused, I glanced down. Dark blue AFC Richmond sweatshirt, one of a million I’d collected over the years. This one, my usual go-to, was pretty simple, with just a small Richmond logo above my heart. It wasn’t like Roy hadn’t seen me wear one a million times at this point, especially on game days.

“The fuck are you on about?” I asked, feeling like I was missing an obvious joke.

Biting his lip, Roy grabbed my arm and pulled me close. “It’s honestly kinda hot seeing you wear my name.”

Oh. Despite the sweater being my favorite, I had found it that morning hung in the back of my closet, untouched in quite a while. Now it made sense why: Roy’s last name and number were emblazoned on the back in large white letters. I hadn’t even noticed when I tugged it on after my shower, especially since I had no plans to see Roy that day.

My cheeks warmed with the reminder that not too long ago, I was just an adoring fan. But Roy’s tightening grip on me brought me back to the moment.

“I’ll just go change really quick,” I breathed, trying to focus on anything but Roy’s hand that had moved firmly to the small of my back.

He shook his head, eyes burning into mine. “Absolutely fucking not. I like seeing my name on you.”

I managed an awkward chuckle. “Come on, Roy. Me wearing your name while I’m out with you in public might be asking for a little bit of trouble, hmm? All it takes is one picture and bam, front page of some rag tomorrow morning.”

Roy stared at me for a moment, his grip softening slightly on my back. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Was that a tinge of disappointment in his voice? If it was, he quickly recovered, adding, “That sweater should be your new pyjamas at my place. Let me see you in it more often.”

“Deal,” I agreed, kissing his cheek before dashing my room to put on a more inconspicuous sweater.

In the car, Roy told me all about Phoebe’s great longing for a dog. She was constantly looking up photos of different kinds of dogs, only wanted dog stuffed animals when out shopping, and had a very long list of possible dog names scribbled in her diary. Despite his ever-constant scowl, I could see the delight in Roy’s eyes when he talked about how “fucking feral” his niece would go once he introduced her to the dog.

At the shelter, Roy got plenty of double takes from employees, but he ignored them, completely focused on the pups in their kennels. He paused in front of one and knelt down beside it. After staring intensely into the crate for a moment, he waved for me to join him.

“What d’you think?”

The medium-sized dog was clearly a mix of about a few different breeds and his black fur looked like he desperately needed a wash. More importantly, his eyes were bright and eager, and he jumped as best he could in his confinement as he gazed at Roy.

I couldn’t help my smile. “I think this might be him.”

An older employee brought us and the dog to a small side yard where we could see him outside the kennels. He immediately jumped on Roy, licking his hands with excitement. Then he turned his attention to me, laying his paws on my thighs. For about five minutes, Roy and I tossed around a toy, watching the dog run around to find it and bring it back to one of us.

After the millionth successful round of fetch, the employee spoke up. “It’s amazing, he’s usually a bit of a grouch. Not aggressive,” she clarified. “But he’s not usually this friendly.” She smiled at us. “He must like you two.”

I turned to Roy, who was on the ground with the dog. “So? You want to take him?”

He gazed up at me as he scratched the dog behind his ears. “Do you like him?”

From the look in Roy’s eye, I knew the answer to that question mattered just as much- maybe even more- than what Roy himself thought of the dog. The idea caused my heart to skip a beat, another reminder that I really mattered to this man.

“I kind of love him already,” I admitted with a chuckle, reaching down to give the dog a pet. “But it’s your choice.”

He nodded, a smile slowly forming. “Yeah, I think he’s the one.”

We spent another five minutes sitting on the grass with the dog, tossing names back and forth, rejecting classics like Max or Fido, deciding against naming him after any footballers, and me forbidding Roy from using any swear words in the name.

Finally, I felt the lightbulb switch on in my brain. “Oscar.”

Roy furrowed his thick eyebrows. “Oscar?”

“For Oscar the Grouch,” I explained, as if it were obvious. “Phoebe told me the two of you always joke that you’re basically Oscar the Grouch. And this guy is supposed to be a grouch, but he loves us. Just like-” I stopped, knowing the next words that almost tumbled out:

Just like how you’re a grouch, but you love me.

Right?

Roy nodded, understanding what I meant. “Oscar,” he murmured. He patted the dog on its side. “What d’you think, fella? Feel like you can live with being called Oscar?”

Immediately, the dog sat down, gazing at Roy expectantly.

“Guess his name’s Oscar,” Roy agreed, his smile widening as he looked at me.

By the time we bought everything Oscar would need for his first few days at home and I helped Roy set his house up, I had to hurry home and finish getting my flat ready for my friends. Roy drove me home and walked me up, his arm wrapped lazily around my shoulders.

“Thank you again,” he said once we reached my door. “I really appreciate you helping me find Oscar. I think Phoebe’s going to fucking love him.” He leaned against the wall, looking at me carefully. “So, your friends are coming over, huh?”

I nodded, fiddling with my keys. “Yeah, we’re going to meet here, then head out to grab a drink. It’ll be nice to catch up with each other.” I shoved Roy playfully. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell them about how Roy Kent and I have regular sleepovers.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then let out a small huff of a laugh. “Hmm. Yeah, guess you shouldn’t.” His eyes lingered again. “Why don’t I pick you up from the bar once you’re finished? You can spend the night. Help me with Oscar tomorrow.”

“Oh, Roy, I dunno what time we’ll be done, I couldn’t ask-”

“I want you to ask,” he interrupted bluntly. “I don’t want you driving home if you’ve been drinking or getting a ride from someone who has. And I don’t want you taking a fucking Uber when you have a boyfriend who is more than willing to give you a ride home. Even if you make fun of my car.” He held my chin tenderly. “Alright?”

I melted into his touch, unable to look away from the look of intense affection in his eyes. Roy Kent wants to take care of me. And I wanted to let him.

“Alright,” I whispered bashfully, trying not to grin too hard. I stood on tiptoe and gave him a small kiss. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to come home.” I paused. “I mean, when I’m ready to be picked up.”

He nodded. “Good.” He gave me one more quick kiss. “Be safe, alright?”

Of course I’d be safe. It was just me and two of my close friends from school, women I’d known for what felt like forever. I had just tucked away a photo of Roy and me in Paris when I heard a commotion outside my door. When I opened it, I was tackled from both sides- Carly and Allison.

We squealed like children as we hugged and chattered about how good each other looked and how mad we were that we’d gone so long without hanging out together. We sat on my couch for a bit, gossiping about old schoolmates and the things they overshared on social media, before finally getting up and piling into Allison’s car to find a pub not too far from my place. Once we had settled a high-top table, drinks in front of us, we were ready to properly catch up.

“So, how’s life at Richmond?” Allison asked, emphasizing the team name the way all our dads always did. “The team’s actually winning these days!”

I shook my head. “It’s amazing. Believe it or not, the American knows what he’s doing. And he’s honestly the nicest guy in the world.”

Carly leaned forward, clearly already feeling her drink. “And is Jamie Tartt really that pretty in person?”

A snort caught in my throat. “Oh, Jamie’s beautiful,” I assured her. “And his very serious girlfriend Keeley is otherworldly gorgeous and the kindest person I’ve ever met. Sorry.”

Allison nudged me. “Who’s single, then? Because I am obsessed with Dani Rojas. That accent, that hair.” She fanned herself with a napkin.

“Or what about Isaac McAdoo? The things I would let that man do to me…” Carly purred.

I couldn’t help laughing. “Oh God. I’ve seen these guys puke after being run too hard at practice or with bloody noses because someone kicked a ball wrong or playing a game of ‘the floor is lava’ in the changing room or drooling in their sleep on the way home from away games. These are not sexy to men to me.”

“Oh, I know what the problem is,” Allison hummed, shooting me a wink. “She’s got eyes for a certain coach.”

My cheeks warmed. “Dunno what you’re talking about,” I answered, taking a sip of my drink and hoping I looked casual.

Allison rolled her eyes. “Come off it, we’ve all seen the shrine. Hell, I bought you some of those posters.”

“If you marry him, you’ll be just like Princess Kate with her William poster!” Carly giggled.

I turned to Carly. “You know Kate said that never actually happened, right?” I asked, trying to shift focus.

Allison caught my game. “Don’t change the subject! Come on, give us the details. Does Roy Kent, love of your life, know you exist?” She shot me a playful wink.

Despite my flushing face at the sound of his name, I snorted. “He better fucking know I exist, we share an office. We eat lunch together almost every day.”

“What’s he like?” Carly asked dreamily.

I paused. I couldn’t tell them about us dating, but surely that didn’t mean I couldn’t tell them about the Roy Kent I knew. “He’s… surprising,” I finally murmured. “He’s actually very kind and thoughtful. Like if he grabs himself breakfast on his way to work, he usually brings me something. He’s got this little niece he absolutely dotes on, and she positively worships him. And fuck, Roy Kent was a great athlete, but I can’t even begin to describe him as a coach. The man’s kind of brilliant but refuses to take any credit for the team’s success. And he’s funny as hell. Very sharp and witty.” I stopped, realizing that I was completely gushing at this point.

My friends stared at me with looks filled with a mix of surprise, fondness, and a bit of pity.

Allison finally spoke. “Fuck, this goes beyond the posters and teenage idol worship. You’re actually in love with the man.”

I rolled my eyes. “Stuff it. So, I’m a bit attracted to him, big whoop. People get little crushes on their coworkers all the time and do nothing about it. It’s not a big deal.” We’re just in a full-blown relationship. No big deal.

“But most people don’t work with someone they have twenty-seven posters of in their bedroom,” Allison pointed out, giggling over her drink.

Carly sat up. “Twenty-eight,” she corrected. “Don’t forget the shirtless poster in her closet that she was hiding from her dad.”

My jaw dropped at the betrayal from my friends. “You’re both off your rockers,” I scoffed. “Roy Kent’s a nice guy, we’re friends, end of story.”

Somehow, I managed to get the girls to find other topics to focus on. At some point I lost count of how many drinks we’d had; it was easy to lose track when having fun with friends. Once I could feel our energy start to fade, I took out my mobile and shot Roy a quick text telling him where I was.

On my way, he answered.

Once our tab was paid, we headed out of the pub, with me assuring my friends that I had a ride, hoping they would assume I had ordered an Uber. They wouldn’t be thinking that once we actually stepped outside, though.

There was Roy, leaning against his stupidly giant black car, looking every bit like my personal teenage fantasy in his tight black jeans with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. His face lit up when he saw me, as if I were a Victoria’s Secret model and not his girlfriend stumbling out of a pub.

“Need a ride?” he called out casually; he knew exactly how sexy he looked and was really leaning into it. Prick.

The amount of alcohol in my system was enough to make me forget everything except how fucking happy I was to see him. I ran at Roy and jumped on him, enveloping him in a giant hug. He chuckled and wrapped an arm around me casually, mumbling “Fucking hello to you, too” into my hair.

My friends’ faces were a jumble of shock, giddiness, and a giant helping of confusion. Their eyes darted back and forth between Roy and me, waiting for some sort of explanation.

Keeping his arm around my shoulder even after I’d let go of him, Roy offered the smallest of smiles to my friends. “Hi. ’m Roy.” He gave a little wave, as if they somehow had no clue who he was. He nodded towards me. “I’m giving this one a ride home if that’s alright.”

Mouths slightly agape, the girls nodded. Still feeling tipsy, I waved to them. “G’night!” As Roy opened the door and placed his hand on my waist to help me into the car, I looked up at him, a dopey, lovesick expression on my face. “Roy?”

“Hmm?” His smile was softer than I’d ever seen it.

“You know I exist, right?”

He nodded, looking at me like I was some magical thing instead of a very sloshed woman. “Yes, I know you exist. Now get in the fucking car before I have to throw you in, hmm?”

Roy managed to get me in the car and then managed to not kick me out of it despite my incessant talking the entire ride back to his place. Instead, he walked me inside and helped me change into one of his sweaters, the one I loved to sleep in. While he changed himself into his sweats, I sat cross-legged on the floor, petting a very sleepy Oscar, now drunkenly explaining to Roy why Paul McCartney was the best Beatle.

As I expressed how much I loved “I Saw Her Standing There”, Roy joined me on the floor, watching me with admiration in his eyes. He absently rubbed Oscar behind the ears, nodding and offering small “Uh-huhs” from time to time.

“You going to kiss me so I can fucking shut up already?” I joked, realizing that he’d never let me go uninterrupted for this long.

Instead, he shook his head. “Nah. I like listening to you.” He paused, his face turning thoughtful. “I really fucking like listening to you.”

I leaned forward and kissed his face. “Thanks,” I murmured, my body now buzzing from the look in his eye rather than the alcohol.

His face screwed up, like he was debating something. “I love you, you know,” he finally breathed. “Like, I really fucking love you.” His shoulders tensed as he stared at me, waiting for me to say something, anything.

Roy Kent loves me. Roy fucking Kent loves me. Roy Kent fucking loves me.

“Holy shit. I love you too,” I blurted, my heart hammering. I blinked a few times. “Wait, you really said that right? I’m not just that drunk?”

Roy’s entire body relaxed, and he laughed so loud he made Oscar jump. “Yeah, I really fucking said that, you sloshed little muppet.” He leaned forward and planted a kiss on my lips. “I love you,” he mumbled against my mouth. “I absolutely fucking love you.”

When I woke up the next morning, Oscar was in his bed, but Roy wasn’t in his. With a small hum, I got up and headed downstairs, where I found Roy sitting on the couch and reading. He gave a small salute when I walked in with the dog at my heels.

“Mornin’,” he greeted, scooting over so I could sit beside him. He pecked my cheek. “Sleep well?”

Despite my giant yawn, I nodded. “Yourself?”

“I always sleep well when you’re here,” he answered nonchalantly, eyes returning to his book. “You hungry?”

I shook my head. “Could go for some tea though.”

He started to get up. “Let me put the kettle on.”

“I’ve got it,” I insisted, standing back up. “You keep reading-” I glanced at the title. “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe?”

“Phoebe roped me into her fucking book club,” he grumbled, turning the book so he could glance at the yellow lion on the cover. “We’re doing the whole series. You want in?”

I chuckled. “Sure.” As I turned to head to the kitchen, he grabbed my arm.

“Hey,” he said softly, looking up at me. “I love you.”

Color flooded my cheeks as I smiled down at him. “I love you too.”

He nodded. “Just… wanted to make sure you heard me say it when you’re sober.” He leaned back and returned to his book. “Go on, then.” His eyes flickered up playfully as I made my way into the kitchen put some water on. While I waited for the water, I could hear ping ping ping from the next room.

“No fucking shit,” I could hear Roy exclaim.

Curious, I grabbed my own mobile and looked at it. Despite it being early on Sunday morning, there were several texts on the thread between Ted, Beard, Rebecca, Roy, and myself.

We got Vargas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The following messages were all emojis and gifs sent by Ted, a simple thumbs-up emoji from Beard, and several smiley faces from Rebecca. I rushed into the living room, where Roy was gazing at his mobile. He raised his eyebrows at me.

“This is fucking huge,” he said. “I mean, this deal was more Beard’s doing, I don’t know fuck all about the guy, but my understanding is that Vargas is supposed to be a big fucking deal very fucking soon.”

I nodded, scrolling through the still-incoming texts. “I can tell,” I chuckled. My mind was already running, thinking about all the things I’d have to get done on Monday: helping Keeley schedule a press conference, making sure Will was on top of things in the changing room, getting Ted a new Spanish-English dictionary, because goodness knows he’d already lost the one I’d just bought him.

As if he could feel my to-do list building in my head, Roy waved me over. “Get over here,” he grumbled. “We’re gonna have a fucking busy week, so let’s just be lazy today, yeah?”

A lazy day with Roy. Roy, who drove me home when I was drunk and wanted me to help pick his dog. Roy who loved me.

“That sounds great,” I agreed with a smile. “Let me just grab my tea.”

Once I had my cup in hand, I settled back onto the couch, tossing my legs over Roy’s lap. Oscar settled himself on the rug, clearly satisfied with his new living arrangements. Outside, I could hear the rain begin to pitter-patter as Roy rested a hand comfortably on my shin. A perfect, lazy day indeed.

“Oi, I picked you up one of those fucking rags when I was at the shop the other day,” Roy muttered, nodding towards the coffee table. “Clerk looked at me funny, the prick.”

I snorted and leaned forward to grab it. “Thank you for your sacrifice,” I retorted, flipping the gossip magazine open. We sat in happy silence as I turned the pages. Suddenly, a photo caught my eye, the sight making me choke on my tea.

Roy eyed me with mild concern. “Alright there?”

“Er, yeah.” I nodded. “I just, uh, I figured out where I know Dario Vargas from.”

“Oh?” Roy could not be less interested.

I folded the page back and handed the magazine to Roy. “I’ve seen him in paparazzi photos before. With his girlfriend.”

There, in full color, was a photograph of who I could only assume with Dario Vargas, with a sickeningly gorgeous woman on his arm. Below them was a simple caption: Football star Dario Vargas out for a night in Rome with supermodel Brittany Brett.

#Roy Kent Superstar #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #Roy Kent #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfic #roy kent x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fluff

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dairy-farmer · 3 months

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There's an episode of Friends where Rachel finds a handsome and interesting guy… but he has a horribly inappropriate relationship with his sister. They take a bath together, share a bed, tickle each other by getting far under their clothes, feed each other from their hands. Sooooo this is Dick and Tim. Every Dick's girlfriend sooner or later leaves him because Tim is always present in their relationship and she is the one who feels like the third wheel. Babs one day becomes nostalgic for their past and decides to invite him to try again (especially since they are constantly flirting over the connection), arrives at Dick's apartment in Bludhaven, sees Tim there sitting on Dick's lap and feeding him cakes and Dick licking Tim's fingers. And Babs just "no. nah. nope. I won't do this to myself again. If they want to gaslight each other, then good luck, but I won't let you do this to yourself" and leaves with a clear conscience, completely extinguishing any feelings for Dick and, perhaps, deciding to fulfill an old wish to finally invite Dinah for a cup of coffee.

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍!!!!!1 dick and tim having an 'uncomfortably close' relationship and it being the reason dick keeps getting dumped is sooooo good!!!!! women just having heart eyes over him and the fact that he's funny, charming, nice, and soooo attractive and thinking they hit the jackpot because he's leagues above any man they've ever dated and he's just so perfect and ideal and they're already mentally planning out the seating arrangement at the wedding and what they'll name their kids- and then they meet tim. and tim, admittedly, is very cute and he's nice and not a brat like the younger siblings of other people they've dated....but they can't but feel...icky when dick is playing with his hair and loudly kissing his cheek to get giggles out of his "baby" brother even though they know dick has a brother even younger than tim and that. dick babies tim, always holding him close and feeding him spoons of ice cream or food between nuzzling him. other tables in the restaurant keep glancing over at them because they're not subtle and more than one sympathetic waiter has given them a cake along with the bill, presuming she'll be paying for herself and the 'couple'. its not just that tim constantly comes on their dates, or that they're made to feel like the third wheel in their own relationship, or that dick will stop dead in the middle of sex if his phone starts ringing with tim's ringtone, no. its the fact that pitying eyes follow them around everywhere and no matter how great dick grayson is ....he's just not worth the embarrassment of toting around.

so dick gets dumped A LOT. but that's alright because tim, his sweet little brother, is always there to comfort him and tell him that he'll "find someone". and tim is the smartest person dick knows so if he says it then it must be true!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #dicktim

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kustas · 7 months

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I'd love to hear your hashtag wha critical thoughts about recent developments if you feel like sharing them :)

I'll preface this with saying that for this answer I will not be making a distinction between my personal tastes and what is "objectively worst". The TLDR is I have felt like WHA's been dipping in quality since book 8 approximately.

One of WHA's strong points is its ongoing theme of accessibility, via its premise of how magic is purposefully restricted from people, and via its characters, mostly the kids, who showcase various life issues and allow the story to talk about how to solve them. Disability is an important one and was at the center of book 8, which is one of my favorites. You get to see Tartah and Coco work together for a goal (=making their friend a better mobility aid), and by doing so they brainstorm the why and then how which allows for complex notions to be carried out and explained to the reader. Cute story with touching implications that flows well. This quote in particular sums up so well what WHA is "about"

After this we transition rather brutally to the latest ongoing arc of the Silver Eve. This arc has been ongoing for years now, and three volumes, making it the longest so far, I'll come back to that, putting a star on it [*]. It delves further into aspects of accessibility the series had talked about before - access to magic, access to healthcare, and poverty. This is where this blog's namesake gets relevant. Custas is a kid who was already poor, who got badly wounded ending up disabled, and who because of that was stuck in a situation with no good endings: he can't make money in his state and needs money to get out of his state. On top of this gets added magic, and comes back the question at the center of WHA: Is it wrong to restrict the use of magic, and how?

After the arc is kickstarted by Custas getting his share of spilled beans of magical secrets revealed, enter immediatly strong players via ch.48's introduction of the Wise Ones and the king himself. The political aspect of how the world works was not mentioned before. Great chapter, interesting stuff all around, personally answered much of my questions. Immediatly after this chapter the focus in 49 fully switches to the Knights and their job, and the rest of the chapter is dedicated to a story of a sexual assault survivor and how she made it. It's a surprising topic to see pop up and it's handled with the respect it deserves. Chapter 50 goes back to Coco and her troubles. This concludes book 9 and...it makes for a Lot of stuff to deal with. Put a Second star on that. [**]

Addressing those stars before we move on:

[*] This arc is taking forever. WHA's arcs in earlier volumes only took a few chapters. This arc has taken three books thus far and I doubt we have reach its climax yet. I personally don't like it and it raises an issue the series did not have before: Will the payoff be worth it? Where it is worrying for the future of the series is that manga serialized regularly tend to up the stakes progressively until the end and it might...not work out.

[**] Too many things at once unresolved. This has already had consequences with the progressive vanishing of something WHA was once excellent at: sneakily introducing elements that get used a few arcs later in important ways. The manga has been, for a while now, accumulating unfinished plot threads via not answering the questions it opens and instead adding more and more characters. Jumping from a group of characters to another was not an issue beforehand because unlike this arc's, chapters took place at different times and/or in totally different places. The Silver Eve is both set in time AND place, making it hard to follow because all sideplot happen at once.

Book 10 continues to accumulate ongoing unresolved plots with: the royal family being shady, Agott's struggles irt. her mother, Dagda running around confused and tracked by the Knights, Custas and Ininia jumping Tartah and Coco, and Galga's accident + relationship.

Book 11 does the same adding Agott's crush on Coco, the actual festival, Jujy's inner troubles...Funnily enough, this page is a good summary of the ongoing mess.

Instead of solving all of this stuff we instead get stakes ramped up to 100 with the introduction of what I can only describe as a kaiju attack. As much as I love the horror and drama element, given what was already going on, this does NOT strike me as a good decision.

Now, we go back to the three latest chapters. These follow the same subplot: Custas' faction change and Coco's attempts to save him. This subplot has, to me, a whole lot of issues. Way earlier on in the story, even before Dagda's ambush, I had issues with how Custas was portrayed in relation to his anger, being drawn weirdly spooky for...a frustrated poor kid? Others have also pointed out it wasn't great to have one of your only dark skinned characters be a slum kid. Obviously given my handle on here, I am still a huge fan of the character. After chapter 45 (included), I already found it a bit tasteless to have so much horrors piled on him. WHA is a rather unsubtle series at time which I really, really dislike. Sure, makes it hard to miss the point, but when you're dealing with sensitive topics it can fall into touchy territory fast...

In the latest chapters, Coco appears to save Custas, the "how" part of her plan still being a mystery. Meanwhile, a timelooped and very confused Dagda looks for him, accompanied by Lulucy, who knows them both and is unaware of their ties with forbidden magic. She ends up telling him to abandon the faction he sided with by literally ripping off the brim of his hat with her magic. Meanwhile, Lulucy starts attacking him on sight. I have so, so so many issues with all of this.

Coco's story is about knowing the system in place sucks. Custas' story is about being screwed over by the same system. The story explicitly points those two out as mirrors: Custas is what would have happened to Coco without the right support. Coco's unique POV on the pointed hat witches shows us many prior times they are not the good guys. Hell, Custas himself talks about how the pointed hat's magical gatekeeping prevented him from living a better life.

To me, the point was supposed to be: the system in place doesn't work, which results in people in need not getting help. We loop back to the accessibility I started off mentioning. Yes, before the current system, bad things happened - but the current system is still allowing other bad things to happen now. So...why is Coco pushing Custas to join the pointed hats and abandon the faction he sided with? If a character who was upholding the status quo was doing so it would make sense (like Beldaruit) but Coco as a main character exists partially to point out why the pointed hats are not good. She demonstrates it to the reader via what happens to her AND knows it as a character. It comes off as inconsistent and frankly makes little sense.

Speaking of inconsistencies...why does Lulucy not recognize Custas, a child she's known for a while? Why does the young prince, introduced as a suspicious character on behalf of his family's unknown goals, become a helpful selfless little guy? Why are the Knights, originally introduced as an antagonistic faction because they are a milita enforcing the status quo, suddenly portrayed as fighting for good as a bunch of remarkable individuals?

Ah yes, the cops. I'm going to address something really fast about them. It makes me frankly uncomfortable the author chose their faction to evoke the two very sensitive topics of sexual assault and homophobia. I think the way those topics themselves were handled without greater context was surprisingly good, and it's touching in the first place to see an author who not only cares, but uses her series, destined partially for younger readers, to explain why she cares. However, Witch Hat is a very black and white series: the bad guys are bad and ugly and you should dislike them, the good guys are good and you should like them. There are some exceptions but who have been losing steam as of late. While originally introduced as a group of individuals who act in problematic ways for their day job, the Knights have slowly lost that bad guy flavor to become a fun band of colleagues/friends. They are law enforcers who enforce unjust laws, but it seems that the author's not on board with people hating them because this is the second time she gave a Knight a tragic backstory that makes them more sympathetic to the reader. First of: I do not see what's to redeem about them if the story's about changing an unjust system, so I don't get the necessity to make them nicer. Secondly: at least in my country (which has legal gay marriage and notably less sexist than Japan) law enforcement is renowned to not help sexual assault victims or gay people. The Knights Moralis are fantasy cops and cops, in real life, tend to abandon people who need their help regarding those two issues - if not worsen them, and count a majority of sexists/homophobes among their ranks. Making your unsubtly cop stand-in faction have both characters with those issues comes off as at least a poor decision if not bad taste.

(big words from the guys introduced in the story by arresting a bunch of children who were on a rescue mission for a misunderstanding they would not have cared about. Die idgaf)

Some more surface level things:

The art. The first books of WHA are noticeably more complex in their style featuring more reaslistic proportions for the characters. Latest arc has seen art lose some of the decorative "classic" flair in the linework and characters looking simpler and stylized to look way...Younger? In a way I do not like. Yes, it's expected for manga series to see their style evolve. I also want to make this clear: I consider the pace imposed on manga artists to be inhumane and if Shirahama had decided to draw her manga as stick figures to work less I'd be down for it.

The dialog. While WHA is very in your face (you may call it preachy) the dialog in the latest chapters especially Coco's feels off. A 12yo wouldn't give off speeches about the world in the heat of battle. When it's a calm scene between two characters discussing a deep thing, sure. When it's an epic public adult figure (see: Dean), sure. I'd prefer having the kids talk like kids.

Goddamn the story has become less nuanced and subtle over the time. Scenes like Qifrey getting confronted by Tartah post mindwiping his grandpa owned. The story's current "morally grey" moments just don't do it for me anymore. No, I don't want the witch politicians of the faction you established as a mistake beforehand to continue. I don't care if the fantasy cops are offended by a grieving husband pointing out they suck. I kinda wish he'd thrown hands actually

So...yeah, that's about it. While WHA's plot beats has always been impossible for me to predict, I don't know if I can trust where the story is going anymore. The fans eating it up confuse me and I might even get hate for posting this. Truth is, while some aspects have always been more or less present in the series since the start, I've felt like the really good bits that balanced it out have been going extinct. I don't know why and it's none of my business to. Some friends have pointed out we might be reaching a point where the author ran out of pre-written story and is now improvising. What's a bit concerning to me is I've also noticed she's way less active on social media, where she used to post regular bonus material for the series, this has stopped and I hope it's not because she lost her interest for the series or way worst, is overworked. Given the conditions for mangaka it wouldn't be impossible and like previously stated, I am of the opinion that no comic book series is worth putting their author's life, health and free time down. It's more important than me disliking the comic.

And regarding Custas - him joining the atelier to study with Qifrey would not be a good ending, no matter what the fandom says. It won't be cute found family. Custas has a family who's unique member wouldn't be able to follow him as a witch. That ending would separate a very traumatized child from the only adult he has in his life that gives him unconditional love and support. Custas needs to not be seen as a criminal so the rest of his life won't be over, and also a whole bunch of cash.

I'm not excited for the anime.

#ask #witch hat atelier #this took me like DAYS to type sorry

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sassycheesecake · 4 months

Text

A/N: I have been really into dark romance and shit, ever since I got that TikTok recommendation. I hereby present yakuza!Shinsuke Kita x Reader. Part 1/2

‘Shit. Shit. Shit! I am late!’, you curse yourself as you almost bolt out of the train, as soon as it stops and its doors open.

You accidentally ran into a lot of people, shouting quick apologies over your shoulder, still running to your workplace.

Thank the heavens for your stamina.

Finally arriving at the Tokyo Ambulance Rescue Station, you quickly run inside and each of your coworkers stops what they are doing to look at you.

Huffing and almost wheezing like you’re having an asthma attack, you step inside and head to the female locker room without looking at any of your coworkers.

Already feeling disgusted by your sweaty state, you change into your paramedic uniform nonetheless.

Now in fresh clothes, you trot your way to one of the ambulance vehicles, seeing your friend Makima checking the equipment in the backpacks and making sure everything is filled up.

Gulping in nervousness, you approach slowly.

“Glad you decided to show up. Almost done.” Makima tells you in a deadly calm voice. Makima is one of those people who despise being late, whether it's herself or someone she is waiting on. She is only a few years older than you but still your superior. Great, this is just your first month after graduating but you were so tired last night that you forgot to put on your damn alarm for the next morning.

Not that this is an excuse, but your showing up is all that matters right?

With shaking footsteps, you make your way into the vehicle and start apologizing in a rant.

“Makima I am so so sorry, I promise it will never happen again!”, you frantically explain yourself, still out of breath.

The long-haired redhead briefly looks at you before bursting out laughing and you don’t know if this makes you feel better or worse.

Giggling, she closes up the i.v. medication backpack and storages it back underneath the cabinet of the bandages.

“(Y/N) don’t worry about it really, shit happens to all of us. No one is perfect and everyone here at the station was late once. Even me.” Makima explains and you can feel yourself being able to breathe easier already.

Just when you were about to reply to her, your beeper went off with a loud annoying peeping voice.

You run to the rack, where your black jacket with your name and the words T.A.R.S. are stitched into, and hop into the passenger seat of the vehicle.

Reading the screen at the front, you groan at the message that the fire station has sent you.

‘PATIENT PROB OD, TROUBLE BREATHING, UNCONSCIOUS, UNRESPONSIVE ‘

It’s probably the troublesome homeless teenager Denji again. You have met Denji twice now. Once beaten up badly and lying knocked out cold in an alley where he was found by a couple of passengers. The other time you found him almost bleeding to death due to a deep stab wound in his thigh, which he explained he simply got mugged.

Nonetheless, you press the buttons for the siren and the blue lights, while Makima steps on the gas to rush to the scene.

The rush and adrenaline are running through your system, making your heart bounce in excitement. Saving lives in acute situations is your thing! It’s a working environment that always comes with new foreign things and patients. Each day is different, which is exactly what your brain needs. Even if you have to drive through the massive city of Tokyo, the different kinds of people and the stories you get to tell your parents sometimes, are worth their shocking and even disgusting expressions sometimes.

Once you were called to a restaurant, in which a patient had an allergic reaction and went into a nonlethal anaphylactic shock.

The patient told you that his date was so horrible, that he purposely ate onions, even though he is allergic to them.

All just to get away from her.

Shaking your head, the logic of men never ceases to amaze you.

Arriving at the scene, you see two people leaning over a young guy that is laying on the sidewalk. He is already turned to his side, making sure in case he needs to throw up, he doesn’t choke on his vomit. Mentally thanking these people for performing the stable lateral position on the unconscious boy.

You grab the mobile vital monitor and the backpack that includes material for giving an I.V. including meds and an infusion.

Before Makima grabs the breathing and the medical suction pump, she turns off the siren but leaves the blue lights on. Pressing the lock on the car keys, the ambulance is securely locked. Unfortunately, people tend to break into ambulance vehicles and proceed to steal the medications.

Both women are rushing to the patient, quickly going through the ABCDE approach, and they manage to load him onto the stretcher after making sure he didn’t overdose. His heart is beating abnormally fast, his blood pressure is at 75/40 and when you shine a small flashlight to take a look at his eyes, his pupils are dilated.

There’s no doubt about it, that Denji got his hands on cocaine.

After giving him Adrenaline and Naloxone, his condition stabilises and Denji begins to stir.

Blinking his eyes open, a bright light immediately greets him and Denji swears he died.

He feels incredibly nauseous and his head is spinning like he just went on countless rides on a spinning wheel.

You hover over Denji’s pale figure, a vomiting bag already in your right hand.

“Denji? Can you hear me?” You ask him in a concerned voice.

When Denji was about to answer, he rapidly sits up and snatches the bag out of your hand, and hurls right into it.

Rubbing his back in a comforting manner, you sit beside him on the stretcher.

Makima is giving a quick report to their station boss, before joining you in the vehicle.

The sight of Denji vomiting disgusts Makima, deciding to wait outside because she can’t stand the smell or sight of someone throwing up.

“Denji, I think we should really take you to the hospital, you’re only 16 years old, where did you even get this stuff?” You ask him in a worried voice.

“It’s none of your business, let me out! I need to go!” Denji snaps at you, beginning to stand up.

You know you shouldn’t fight someone who just woke up from a drug rush, so you let him stand up.

Standing on wobbly legs, he places his hand against the vehicle wall to stabilize his balance.

Breathing heavily out of his mouth, he was about to open the vehicle door when Makima already beat him to it.

Surprised that he is up, she moves to the side to let him step out of the vehicle.

Denji almost falls flat on his face and his pale face makes you even more worried about him.

“Denji, are you sure you’re okay? Do you want us to call anyone?”

“Stop acting like you fucking care about me. I am just a street rat. I don’t need your pity! Just leave me the fuck alone!” He angrily spits at you, like a moody teenager that got his phone taken away.

Makima and you are watching him walk away, still unbalanced but both of you leave him be.

“You’re welcome by the way for not letting you die today!” Makima yells after him. Denji shows his middle finger up in response and continues to stomp away.

Sighing in defeat, Makima and you get back into the vehicle and you are making your way back to the station.

Giving the report that the patient refused to cooperate and come with you, you drive back.

The clock strikes 22:00 and Makima and you are finally free to change after the night shift has arrived.

Farewelling Makima goodbye, you begin to walk to the train station.

Having your headphones in your ear, you scroll through your Spotify playlist and choose ‘Glitter and Gold’.

You had a really busy day and barely had a chance to go to the bathroom.

Entering the women’s restroom, you look up from your phone, and the sight before you freezes immediately.

Right in front of you stands a very tall guy with sandy-blonde hair, he has to be at least 6’1 and he is holding a lot of tissues against his arm, blood soaking each tissue.

The stranger holds a painful expression while putting pressure on his arm.

His muscled body is leaning against the sink, the blood on his upper arm dripping down right into it.

Brown eyes rapidly look in your direction, his face shining with curiosity.

Chuckling nervously, he starts talking with his deep voice.

“Don’t scream, don't call for anyone. Just got a little scratch on my arm.”

Blinking a few times at his wound, you slowly step towards him.

Your approach is making him tense, his non-injured arm moving to his side, where he holds a dagger in case you want to attack him.

“Your wound looks pretty bad. Don’t worry I am a paramedic, I can take care of that if you want to.”

The blonde-haired giant looks at you for a few seconds, making sure you’re not lying.

After a few moments of tense silence, he nods unsurely.

Breathing out slowly, you awkwardly glance at the door and at him a few times.

“Uhm. Just follow me then, I need to take a proper look at it. I have my materials at home so come home with me so I can patch you up properly.” You explain to him.

His eyes watch you carefully, hesitantly he nods and puts his maroon jacket back on.

“Do you have a belt or something on you?” You ask him as you both exit the public restroom.

The tall stranger nods and takes off his belt to hand it to you.

Grasping the belt you begin to tie it around his arm, so the wound hopefully stops the bleeding until you both arrive at your place.

Wincing at the tightness, he thanks you quietly.

As you both begin to enter the train, which is thankfully empty around this time on a weekday, you ask him what happened to his arm.

“Not that's yer business anyway, so I’d rather not say.” He avoids your curious look.

“But that wound is pretty deep! You need to go to the hospital and get that stitched up probably.” You try to reason with him.

“I am serious. Drop it.” He snaps at you with an angry frown.

Accepting his request, you decide to drop it.

With nervous hands, you glance down at the metro floor and wait in silence to arrive at your destination.

Ten uncomfortable minutes later, you both arrive at the subway station that is close to your apartment.

Unlocking the door with your key, you enter inside and wait for him.

The blonde hesitates for a few seconds, glancing down the hallway nervously before deciding that you’re not a threat, and enters as well.

Gently closing the door, you urge him to follow you into your bathroom where your medical kit lies underneath the sink.

You direct him to sit on the edge of the bathtub and he complies without question.

“I need to see your wound properly in order to clean it up.” You tell him while putting on medical gloves and setting the necessary materials like the stitching materials, disinfectant wipes, and fluid, and scissors.

He winces while rolling up his sleeve to present you with his injury.

You start by taking a wet washcloth and gently dabbing it around the area, quietly apologizing whenever he hisses and flinches away from the touch.

As you are now able to see the injury better, you see that it’s actually a bullet wound, hence the bleeding was so heavy.

Shocked that he has this kind of injury, you remember that he doesn’t want to talk about how he got it.

“Lift your arm please, I need to know if the bullet is still in the muscle tissue.“

He gives you an incredulous look since lifting his arm would only worsen his pain. Nonetheless, he complies.

Quickly looking around his arm you don’t see an exit wound, closing your eyes in pity for the stranger, you know what you are going to say next, definitely won’t be easy.

“Let me guess. That thing is still in there.” He looks to the ceiling of your bathroom with a tight smile.

“U-Uhm yes. I told you to go to a hospital. It needs to be surgically removed. I really recommend it Mr….”, you drift off as you don’t recall knowing his name.

He looks at you and realizes he’s never introduced himself to you properly.

“Name’s Atsumu Miya, ya can call me Atsumu.”

Later on, Atsumu enters the familiar door of the headquarters of the ‘Fox Den’ and lets out a heavy sigh.

The pent-up frustration from the fight with Karasuno, the pain, and the treatment that he had to bite through with you is making his body insanely tired from exhaustion.

Nonetheless, he needs to give a report to his boss, the leader of the Inarizaki gang of Hyogo.

Atsumu walks down the hallway that has multiple doors connected to it and since it’s awfully quiet, Atsumu guesses that most members are either asleep or away on missions.

Entering the lift at the end of the hallway, he presses the ‘5’ button for the conference rooms and where also the office of his boss.

Swinging back and forth on his heels, Atsumu waits until the elevator stops and continues his path to the room of the leader of Inarizaki.

Once he arrives at his destination, he knocks first, before entering.

“Hey Kita, 'm back from the mission." The blonde says when he steps into the office.

A man who has silver hair with black tips in it, is sitting at the desk and he briefly looks up from his laptop with a stoic face, before looking down again, continuing to type something down.

Ignoring the warm greeting of his boss, Atsumu plops down on one of the chairs in front of the desk and puts his arms behind his head to stretch.

Unfortunately, he completely forgot about the injury on his arm, immediately putting the injured arm down again with a winced hiss.

The head of the gang looks at his trusted friend before a slight frown of concern decorates his face.

“What happened?“ he asks in a calm voice.

“Oh, you know the usual. Just some fuckers from Karasuno in our territory and one of them fucking shot me.“ Atsumu explains while gently rubbing over his arm, feeling the wrapped bandage from you underneath his jacket.

His frown deepens at the mention of their rival gang, the Karasuno crows, but listens quietly.

“Do you need medical attention? Do you want me to send Ginjima or Riseki up?“ He continues to question him.

“Nah, I am good Kita. Got stitched up by this cute girl that I met while I was bleedin‘ out like a pig in a women’s restroom by the train station.“ Atsumu pulls his sleeve to reveal the bandage.

Kita glances at the bandage on his friend‘s arm, a mix between concern and anger but also suspicion haunts his face.

He slowly gets up from his chair and rounds his table with slow steps, making his way toward the older twin.

The injured man looks at him with curious eyes while raising his eyebrow in confusion.

The silver-haired man stares at one of his most trusted right-hand man with a neutral expression and puts his arms behind his back.

“Tell me more about this mysterious medic girl.“ He demands.

Atsumu grins mischievously at his boss and begins to tell him about his fight to the encounter of meeting you.

Yawning, you stretched out your exhausted limbs and climbed into your comforting blue soft blankets. The feeling of your head hitting the cushy pillow makes you sigh in bliss. It was a long day, first the rowdy patients, then getting vomited on by a drunk homeless person that almost overdosed, and then there was the injured blonde-haired stranger you met tonight. You’re not going to lie, it was a whole mountain of stupid to just invite a stranger over to your apartment. Anxiously, you remember, that he mentioned he didn’t want to go to the hospital to get patched up because he needs to stay anonymous.

The only question is…

Why does he need to do that?

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone vibrates with a message. You curiously pick it up to see what the notification is.

Eyes widening in shock and also a concern, you glance at your screen.

Unknown number

‘Thank you for taking care of my friend. I would like to repay you some time for your kind service’

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyū!!#hq x reader #hq fluff #inarizaki #shinsuke kita #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke #yakuza!au #yakuza #haikyuu mafia

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i-heart-hxh · 4 months

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hi! so ive been so confused/unsure abt why killua's reaction to palm saying "you are the one gon needs most" looked like he was devastated. ive thought of different reasons on why he had that reaction:

1) he got scared/devastated/stressed at the fact that he was the only one who could really help gon at that moment, but he was so sure he was useless cuz he couldn't even snap gon back to his own senses. so its like "if i—the closest help there is to gon—can't help him, then who/what else can?" and so the overwhelming thoughts of gon possibly dying haunts him.

2) he couldn't believe that he's the one gon really needs the most after assuming that palm probably placed higher than him already, and was fully convinced gon cares more about palm more than him. but then palm says she cant even compare to killua, which gave him that reaction .... i guess its like relief but portrayed in a painful way cuz of his self worth issues.

3) he got pressured by the thought of being the one gon will always rely on the most. anything bad that happens to gon will always depend on what killua would do abt it. and killua always worries and sacrifices too much when it comes to gon, so pressure just added up.

aaaand this is making my brain all scrambled (TT) i wanted to ask if u have a clearer answer for this..? i trust ur judgement a lot (｡-人-｡)

Hello! Aw, I appreciate that you trust my judgment, that's sweet of you to say. ❤️ I'll do my best to explain my take on Killua's expression in this scene!

So, I think his reaction of shock and looking devastated is primarily from the first set of reasons you brought up. He already tried to step in and stop Gon and got pushed away and told that the situation with Kite is none of his business essentially. Being rejected like that and being unable to change Gon's course of action (even though that's the role Gon entrusted him with) broke his heart, and made him feel like he can't change Gon's impending tragic outcome.

Bisky also told him this earlier in the arc:

While we know his tendency to flee against a strong enemy is caused (at least in a large part) by the needle, which he's already removed at this point in the series, Bisky's words to him and the gravity of the current situation still weigh heavily on him. In this scene, he's realizing that Gon's fate rests on him--and he doesn't know what to do to save Gon at this point. There's no one else he can ask or rely on any more to save Gon, it all hinges on him. What a heavy burden that is to be entrusted with, especially with how deeply he loves Gon--to a degree where he has actively decided and even stated out loud that he'll die with him if it comes down to that.

That's why he's not happy or relieved (at least not visibly) to hear this, as much as being Gon's most important person is what he wants--to hear this at this point is a tremendously scary thing. He just broke down sobbing on the ground because he feels so helpless to do anything for Gon. This is what he needed to hear, and it's true as well, but it puts him a position of great responsibility towards someone he loves more than anything. He was previously directly told by someone he respects that he'll eventually leave Gon to die, which just adds extra fuel to the situation.

I do think both of your other ideas are things that contribute to Killua's state to a degree, but they're not the primary driving force of his reaction in this scene specifically. The situation with Palm and Gon did certainly destabilize his sense of his role in Gon's life (because he desperately wants to be Gon's most important person and, it's heavily hinted, his romantic partner) and that's why he's so fixated on whether Gon wants him at his side as his friend or his teammate. Hearing this from Palm is deeply meaningful for Killua--he even thanks her for it later (he doesn't specify what it's for, but it's obvious)--but again the timing is what makes it difficult for Killua to hear.

On your third point, I do think Killua also realizes as a result of what happens in Chimera Ant Arc that the dynamic between him and Gon can't continue as it has, hence the separation, but in this scene the situation is too urgent for him to be thinking deeply about future situations beyond the life-or-death one he and Gon are currently in. The pressure on him is absolutely a factor, though.

I hope that helps clarify this important scene for you!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #gon #killua #palm #killugon #gonkillu #asks #anonymous #my posts #meta #I'm glad to be back writing meta after a very busy couple of weeks!!

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barrenclan · 7 months

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I think catabolic seed by the scary jokes is very slugpelt, maybe about her life in general?

Yeah, I think so! I like the themes in this song about trying to take control of your life by reaching out to other people, but getting denied. That's very Slugpelt.

Also, check out this awesome PMV with Catabolic Seed, which I just have to show off cause I love it so much.

"But is bad luck really such a crime? If you won't be my valentine, could you at least give me a little bit of sympathy?"

"I don't care if I'm losing myself in the garden of earthly delights I could drop dead right where I stand, and I wouldn't mind"

youtube

You guys always find such interesting songs. I like this one. It's definitely got good Rainhaze energy.

"even through the pain animals cannot change dance with the skeletons and float away"

"eat and then die all your siblings cast aside too"

"see with new eyes a world ready to despise you"

youtube

No, no one's recommended this Hannibal fansong yet. But nice call for Ranger talking to Rainhaze!

"So look in the mirror And tell me, who do you see? Is it still you? Or is it me?"

"Do you feel the hunger Does it howl inside? Does it terrify you? Or do you feel alive?"

youtube

That's a good classic ask, back from the beginning of the blog. Never forget Christmas music Daff.

"Underground, boxed and glum Left you there for rot All my fears are overgrown Will someone burn this grove?"

"Welcome home! It's been a while Do you miss your head? With your tattered clothes and your bloody nose?"

youtube

I LOVE Vulture Culture! That song is great. I've been wanting to do a version of its animation meme for years now with a fandom I'm in. Maybe someday.

It can be a Rainhaze song and a Defiance song. They're so interlinked now, right?

"We live and die in a vulture culture We crucify anyone we hunger Gemini and a broken brother We live and die, my friend"

"Well, I guess I made my bed Now I gotta lie in it Like a suicidal kiss I got a guilty conscience"

youtube

BarrenClan is a cursed land!...

"The curse ruled from the underground, down by the shore And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before"

"If they called on every soul in the land, on the moon Only then would they know a blessing in disguise"

youtube

Asphodelpaw's themesong is a MARINA song, so you're already halfway there! I also agree with you about the idea of Asphodel feeling like she has to put on a strong front and pretend like she doesn't have any genuine feelings.

"It's okay to say you've got a weak spot You don't always have to be on top Better to be hated Than loved loved loved for what your not"

"You're vulnerable, you're vulnerable You are not a robot You're lovable, so lovable But you're just troubled"

youtube

What a wonderful title for a song. I also love mashing my OCs into any vaguely related song to them.

"I bid the sunshine adieu! In 1872 When the girl that I liked Made me a creature of the night"

"On the shortest night of the year I told him he’d nothing to fear As I bit his throat and crooned as he choked “Together forever my dear”

youtube

I'm certain this song has been suggested before, but that's only because any song from The Crane Wives discography could fit into PATFW.

"He taught me that the hand that feeds Deserves to be bitten when it beats He taught me how to break my chains And that money ain't worth a thing"

"Reminding me how little I have But as for time, as for time It's mine, it's mine"

youtube

Poor Pinepaw! He really does know too much, often envious of who he used to be.

youtube

...yeah, that's going on the playlist.

"Everything here is built on bones

Everything everything everything

And men will do as they’re foretold

Everything everything everything

Visions you don’t want to see

Everything everything everything

Hide your face from prophecy"

If I'm being real - since this song is so desert-themed, it's giving much bigger Saltburn's Clan energy, especially with the line about "mountain cats". (Blasting beams into the 3 people who read this's head to go read SBC at @nanistar)

If you want my opinion, I would say Slugpelt.

"So, if I can wait five more In this shape that I abhor I'll sleep with an open door Knowing you haven't touched a cell on my body"

"Now, my love carries the task Of handling the aftermath Can you smooth the looping lines Of fingerprints before your time?"

Lol I ran out of video embeds

#ask #music #rainhaze #ranger #slugpelt

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empressgeekt · 3 months

Text

Trolls - Amnesia-Rock-Prince!Branch in An Arranged Marriage Au - Role Reversal Au (part 1)

SO, so earlier I read a fic where Poppy didn't go to branch for help in the first movie and the village was left abandoned with Branch as the only survivor after the revival of Trollstice. Meaning he was alone when Barb invaded...And it has inspired a different route on to how Char and Poppy would meet.

Char = Branch as it would.

We start with the events of the first movie. Poppy would run off to save her friends and she would succeed, however, when they arrived back to the village there wasn't anyone there. Or at least that's what the snackpack thinks. They find little Keith crawling out of some of the fresh rubble, he has a small frown but it was Shocking to Poppy as the boy was usually expressionless. From Keith they learn that the bergens came back while they were trying to leave, and his dad hid him in a bush. The attack was days ago...

Some members of the SnackPack want to go back to get the rest of the village, but Poppy knows that she barely got her friends out of there, an entire village was a completely different challenge, and Trollistice had already passed...They would need help. There had to be people out there who would help them.

Staying in the village is out of the question, so they gather what they can from the destruction, and move on. They walk for days, and living in the woods is harder then expected. It really opens Poppy's eyes to the true nature of the wilderness, especially since she's taking care of Keith (the Blank child clings to her since she found him). They try singing to keep their spirits up, but singing attracts predators. Large spiders and snakes, come at them from all directions. Creek (no he didn't betray them...yet) can't talk them down. Food is scarce, they don't know which berries are safe. And eventually they all get caught in a storm, getting washed away.

By some miracle they all wake up the next morning by the edge of the forest. Before them stretches vast plains, some patches of the ground darkened in ways they are un-familiar. Here they are faced with a choice go back into the forest with all it's dangers or face the unknown ones just beyond the threshold. Creek tries to argue that they should stay with what they know, convincing Biggie, Guy Diamond (who has been feeling sick), and the twins that they shouldn't take a chance. However, Poppy, Cooper, DJ, smidge and Fuzzbert think that the unknown is worth the risk. Cooper saying he was technically from the unknown, and maybe they could find where he was born. In the end Creek is out-voted.

The plains are different. There aren't as many spiders or birds, but snakes are still an issue as well as a lack of natural shelter for the sun. its hot, and it only grows hotter. the land slowly becomes more and more burnt, more and more black. The ground is turning their feet red as they walked. Then they heard a screech, and were swarmed with Leather Vipers (leather Vipers are the main predators in my version of Rock Troll territory, basically picture a mix of snake/ Dragon made of polished leather and glowing warped metal teeth, claws and horns). It looks like the end, until they hear a second screm from above.

And Anglerbus is over head, and jumping from it, are...other trolls. Coming to the SnackPack's rescue. A few power cords and the vipers are scared off. Poppy feels great relief at seening them. They weren't the last trolls, these guys were here, and even better they had ways to defend themselves. In her eyes they were saved. Creek while thankful to not be dead, isn't as welcoming of these strangers. These dully color strangers covering in scares and scowling at them. At least on the surface, he's still "polite" to get the aid their group desperately needed.

Val Thundershock is part of the group that was on the Anglerbus, she's a little surprised to find a group of Pop trolls (and one funk) out in the Rock Wastes. No one knew where the Pop trolls had gone since the split and frankly no one cared, however she did want to know why they would suddenly invade the territory.

Val: Well, Well, Well, we got us some little pop trolls, now what exactly are you doing in Rock territory?

Poppy: Hi, first off thank you so much, we would've been if it wasn't for you.

Val: yeah I know, now what are you doing here? I hope you realize that Pop trolls aren't exactly welcome here.

Creek (rudely cuts in): Pop trolls?

Val: That's what you are right? Peppy, over excited, happy music lovers?

Poppy: Well kinda...

Val: Then you might as well turn around. Your kind isn't welcome here.

Poppy: Wait please!

Val: Go home, there's nothing for you here

Poppy: We don't have a home! Our home was destroyed by the bergens! We're all that's left!

Val dismissal is finally the thing that gets Poppy to shout. Finally accepting that yes her home is gone and that they were the only survivors. They all had been ignoring the subject while the woods. It's a hard truth to swallow, but one she chokes down to get Val to listen. And listen Val does. When Poppy confirms that they were indeed the last pop trolls. Val immediately shifts gears, as even if the tribes didn't get along, Genres needed each other to remain in balance. Not since the dancing plague of the disco tribe did one go completely extinct. Still it isn't her call, to preserve the genre. Thankfully she was on the same ride, as a very close friend to her. She tells one of the Rockers to contact Prince Char.

Creek, pulls Poppy aside, and expresses his concerns over these new trolls. Saying they shouldn't trust them. Poppy asks why, and Creek starts explaining that he was warned about trolls who were dulled. Saying that when he was a child there had been a grey trolling who lived near by and that grey one had killed his own grandmother. Poppy, says that she understands that Creek is scared, but they don't really have a choice. AT that moment Guy would throw up adding to Poppy's argument, saying that at the least they need food, shelter and a doctor for Guy. Creek can't really argue, especially since one of the Rock trolls came over to help the twins ease Guy too the ground.

The Anglerbus would land, and Char would walk out. The Rockers salute him as their prince, and that kind of intimidates Poppy, as while she is a Princess, she never actually interacted with another member of Royalty beyond her Dad. And Char is by far the dullest of all the strange trolls. Creeks words getting to her. Speaking of the idiot, he steps in to be the first to speak to the Prince.

Creek: Prince Char, it is lovely to meet you, I hope to extend an arm in friendship yes?

Char (not shaking Creek's hand): You speak for this group?

Creek: Well in a way. I-I wouldn't go that far. Second in command or spiritual leader might be a better fit. I do hope we can-

Char: cut to the chase, what is your business here?

Creek (taken aback): We come for aid, please it was horrible our village is destroyed. As fellow trolls we need to stick together.

Char (laughing dryly): You come here preaching unity after your kind split us apart. it's so ironic its funny.

Creek: I believe I don't understand.

Char: Centuries ago, the six tribes lived in harmony, until the Pop trolls, you kind tried to wipe out the rest of us. Destorying out music and culture triggering the great split and forcing us from our homes. Seem's the universe has come back to bit you.

Creek: I'm not sure where you've heard that but I assure you these rumors are not true in the slightest.

Char: they're aren't rumors their history. My people wouldn't be living out in these wastelands if it weren't for the split.

Creek: Then your history is incorrect. We'd never do such a thing, all trolls are supposed to be friends.

Char: *hum*, Treat there wounds, but start the bus, you'll receive no aid from us.

Creek: What?

Char: Don't act shocked, you gave everything I need to know. That "greater then thou" act won't fly here. You're intentions are not ones I can put trust or faith in, because they are not genuine. Go back to your king or and queen and tell them if they were trying an invasion, we the people of Rock will not hesitate to rain down hell fire on your home land.

Poppy: Wait! Please! *runs towards Char, with Keith in her arms only to be blocked by the Rockers* We're telling the truth! We don't have a home to go back too! We're all that's left Please help us!

Char: And who are you?

Poppy: I'm Princess Poppy, and I'm begging you. Help us.

Char: Take them up, get them settle, doctors food water. Then bring the princess to my quarters. We need to talk privately.

______

And I'll cut this off here. There's going to be a part 2.

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heliads · 1 year

Note

can i request a lydia martin x female reader? y/n is new in town and ends up getting along with the pack. she's a lot like lydia, genius smart, loves fashion, really girly, the major difference is that she's quiet and kinda shy, so everyone expects the two of them to become friends, but lydia really dislikes her and feels like she's being replaced by her. enemies to lovers, you know?

hope you like it and feel comfortable writing <3

reader: excuse me, i am smart, i am gay, i have the ability to make you jealous, i'm ~new in town~

masterlist

You are finding it hard to believe in the power of a fresh start. Everyone phrased it that way when it was first announced that you would be completely wrecking your old life to move to a town in the middle of Nowheresville, California, but you saw through it from the start. This would not be a wonderful chance to reinvent yourself, nor a blessed opportunity for trying again. This would be awful, and nothing about Beacon Hills could change that.

You already did your time of starting from scratch in a classroom you didn’t recognize back home. Home is not Beacon Hills, home is where you were born, where people knew you from kindergarten through your teenage years. Beacon Hills only has claim to you for the few years you have left in high school, and after that, you’re moving back to your hometown. So you’ve promised yourself, at least.

However, Beacon Hills doesn’t like it when its pawns and pieces get minds of their own. The only way people leave this town is through death, either theirs or that of someone they love. You don’t know that now, but you’ll learn it soon enough. It’s a lesson of inevitability for anyone daring enough to live in a supernatural hot spot even half the strength of this godforsaken town.

Death has not darkened your doorstep, however, and you go to your first day of school with only the apprehension of wondering if you’ll find enough friends to make this town worth your while. The students seem pretty friendly when they’re not judging you behind three ring binders or over locker doors, but what else is new? Beacon Hills High School is still a high school, and that means it can only be so great when you’re not one of its usual crew.

It’s a good thing, then, that you managed to stumble upon people who would embrace you with open arms. You met Scott McCall first when both of you were paired together for a chemistry lab, then Stiles second in a math class. After that, it was almost inevitable that you would join the rest of their group, their pack. If you can win over Scott and Stiles, you’re guaranteed to fit right in.

It’s nice being with the McCall crew. They watch each other’s backs, they stand up for themselves, anything you could want in a friend group. It takes them a while to trust you long enough to share exactly why that is, but even afterwards, it only solidifies the bond you have with the rest of them. Their world is strange and utterly confusing, but they’ve managed to navigate it together so far, and now that together includes you as well.

It would be perfect were it not for the presence of one person in that group. No one can understand why it is that you and Lydia Martin cannot get along, but the facts remain just as solid as always. Every time you and Lydia cross paths, you can’t escape without at least a few angry comments exchanged. Terse words are a must, and sarcastic retorts are a necessity. There’s no way kindness can prosper if the two of you have to work together.

It makes no sense. You and Lydia should be the closest here of anybody, with the exception of Scott and Stiles. Both of you are clever, among the smartest in your classes; both of you like being right, especially when it saves the lives of your friends. Malia and the rest have told you about a thousand times over that you guys could talk about so much if you would just talk to each other at all.

That, however, seems to be far easier to say than to do. Lydia won’t let you get in a word unless she’s got the upper hand, and you’re no better. You’re not talking unless you’re sniping at each other, and that’s hardly talking at all.

You’re not going to act like it totally ruins your friendship with the rest of the McCall pack, only that it’s frustrating you’ll never be able to win over the full set. You don’t need Lydia Martin to love you, though, she just has to tolerate your presence long enough to save your life if necessary, and she does that just fine.

Too fine, actually. Scott gets it into his head that you should all split up to stake out potential hunter territory to see if they’re planning something big. Seeing as you’re still new to the whole hunter/supernatural deal, you’ll have to have someone there with you to keep you alive if your cover is blown, and of all the people to watch your back, he chooses Lydia.

You tried to fight that choice as much as possible. If you have to be stuck in the dark of night with someone for an extended period of time, wouldn’t it be better if it was a person you could actually stand? Anyone else would be just fine by you. Even Theo Raeken, and the guy’s literally tried to kill everyone about half a dozen times.

Scott disagrees, though, citing this as the perfect chance for you and Lydia to finally mend some bridges instead of burning them. You may think he’s insane, but Scott’s word is law, mostly because he’s the most capable of making reasonable decisions of all of you.

This may be true, but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. You roll up to the stakeout with expectations on the ground, and when Lydia greets you with an eye roll, the bar descends even lower than expected. You’ll both be sitting in her car and waiting for something to happen, and all you can think is that three hours cannot pass quickly enough.

Lydia chuckles derisively when you climb into her car. Evidently you’re not as good at concealing your disdain for this evening as you’d like to think. “You might want to work on your poker face, sweetheart. You’re looking a little unhappy.”

“Wonder why that is,” you say, settling into your seat with great reluctance, “it’s not like I’m stuck in a car for hours with someone who hates me. Oh wait, I am.”

Lydia frowns. “I don’t hate you.”

You scoff. “Of course you do. We pick fights every time we talk. You’re even arguing with me now about how much we dislike each other.”

Lydia goes silent for a second, then: “I don’t want anyone to think I hate them. Unless they deserve it, of course.”

“I haven’t killed you or our friends yet,” you remark, “isn’t that enough for me to not deserve it?”

“It should be,” Lydia replies hesitantly.

Yet it isn’t, which is what she isn’t saying. You exhale, irritated, and turn your attention back towards the house outside, you know, like you were supposed to be doing all this time. The sun sets and disappears beneath the horizon, and once the stars have bothered to take their place, Lydia speaks again.

“It is.”

You look at her, confused. “What is?”

Lydia gestures vaguely at you. “What you said earlier. What you’ve done isn’t enough for me to hate you.”

“Then why do you?” You ask slowly.

Lydia tosses you an affronted look. “I don’t, but you seem so determined to dislike me that you think I do anyway.”

Your hackles are rising again, and you feel yourself rushing to counter what she’d just said. “Only because you never give me a chance to do anything else!”

Lydia groans. “See, this is exactly what I mean. Neither of us can say anything without the other taking it as an insult.”

You pause for a second, and when you speak again, your words are calm and cautious. “What about a truce, then?”

Lydia nods. “I’d like a truce.”

She holds out a hand to you and you shake it with as much solemnity as you can muster. It’s awkward for a while after that, both of you apparently unable to come up with things to say that aren’t direct insults, but slowly the conversation comes and then you’re finding connections between each other you never knew existed in the first place.

In fact, by the time your phone vibrates with the alarm you’d set to mark the end of the stakeout, you find that you’re almost disappointed to leave the car. Lydia must feel the same way, because she only lets you go with a promise to meet up later to talk. For real, this time. Truce continued without the forced proximity of a stakeout.

You end up meeting Lydia later that week for coffee, then two days later for a study session, then again for a review of your favorite fashion house’s spring collection. The meetups seem to follow each other in waves, no one ever enough to make you tired of her company. If anything, it only makes you want it more.

You never really considered what the others must think about the abrupt 180 in your interactions with Lydia until you’re at a pack meeting about a month later and Malia confronts you about it.

The meeting is over, and just as you’re letting down your guard and pulling on your coat, Malia calls something out to you in typical no-nonsense Malia fashion.

“So,” she says with unimaginable confidence, “how long have you and Lydia been dating?”

You feel every bit of air leave your lungs, and it takes a few seconds for you to recover enough to sputter out, “What?”

Malia spreads her hands. “How long have you been dating? You guys are together all the time. When did you first get together?”

Across the room, Lydia looks as if she’s just been shot. “We’re not dating, Malia.”

Malia frowns. “What do you mean? Of course you are.”

She looks as if she’d like to spend at least a few minutes more explaining all the ways you’re totally in a relationship with Lydia when Scott gently but firmly guides her by the arm out of the room. He winces over his shoulder as he goes, mouthing something like sorry about that and I’ll talk to her about it, I swear.

You and Lydia are left staring at each other in complete shock. “Crazy mixup she had there, isn’t it?” Lydia asks faintly. “I mean, who could have even thought…”

You shrug weakly. “I mean, is it really such a leap? We go places together without anyone else all the time. We have inside jokes. You have my contact saved in your phone with a heart next to the name.”

Lydia shakes her head. “That’s just because it’s your favorite color. There was no other shape with it. You know that.”

When you stare at her for a moment longer, her eyes clear. “Oh, I see how that could look to someone who wasn’t there.”

“What if she wasn’t entirely wrong?” You ask as casually as you can, “you know, it does look like we’re dating. We might as well just go ahead and make it official.”

Lydia blinks in surprise, then: “Y/N L/N, are you asking me out?”

It takes everything in you to not turn and run. “Are you saying yes?”

Lydia laughs. “Yes, I think I am.”

You think you might owe Malia a favor after this. Intentional or not, she finally managed to get you and Lydia together. That’s at least worth saving her life a couple of times.

teen wolf tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

#lydia martin #lydia martin imagines #lydia martin x reader #lydia martin oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf lydia #teen wolf lydia imagines #teen wolf lydia x reader #teen wolf lydia oneshot

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aspoonofsugar · 6 months

Note

do you have a favourite RWBY arc?

Hello anon!

Do you mean story-arc or character arc? I am just gonna go with character arcs because I feel like it :) Here is my list. It combines my personal taste with those I think are best written.

1- Penny Polendina

Penny's arc is the best complete one in the series so far. It is thightly written and very powerful. Her final choice does what every character arc's climax should do: it ties togetyher all the thematic threads explored by Penny's arc in one incredibly meaningful moment. In the end, Penny chooses to be a friend, shows she is an adult and affirms her own humanity. Her choice is meant to be tragic and bittersweet because humanity can be both. Still, it is definately worth it.

1 - Cinder Fall

Cinder's arc isn't complete, but there is already enough for her to get first place together with Penny. Midnight is the best written episode of the series in my opinion and it manages to tie together all the pieces of foreshadowing and subtext present in Cinder's story up until that point. It is also a pivotal point in Cinder's story, where she has to make a choice. Will she recognize she is still a prisoner of abuse or will she ignore this truth? She chooses to repress and fails to develop positively. As a result, she has prepared her own tragedy.

Cinder's story is key to the whole series and it has the potential to end up above all the other arcs, if well executed.

3 - Weiss Schnee and Yang Xiaolong

Ice Girl and Fire Girl are tied for third place! (together with Jaune)

Weiss's arc has a very strong set-up and beginning. She gets a lot of focus at Beacon and quickly develops. After such a solid start her development can take the time to happen slowly, so that we can see how she has silently and beautifully evolved throughout the volumes. She is now warmer, kinder and happier than ever. Points for her having some of my favourite motifs.

Yang's arc is kind of the opposite, in my opinion. She gets the least focus among the 4 main girls in Vale. Still, the moment her arc decides to roll, it gets central stage. Her focus in Mistral is wonderful and her development is beautifully conveyed in volume 5 and volume 6 climaxes. Her confrontation with Raven is especially one of the best scenes of the series.

3 - Jaune D'Arc

Jaune's arc is one of the best executed both in terms of pacing and evolution of the character. If he keeps going this way, he might climb to first place tbh.

6 - Ruby Rose

I am expecting her to climb higher. Her focus in volume 9 was great and a beautiful first step in her development. The choice to mask her LRRH's story behind Alice in Wonderland references was wonderful and brilliantly executed. I think the ending could have been conveyed more powerfully, but the final result is still great. I am looking forward to how her arc will continue!

7 - Blake Belladonna and Oscar Pine

Blake's arc is beautiful and it ties together many thematic threads. Maybe a little bit too much, which is why it is below the other main characters. She is still wonderful though! And the more one analyzes her story, the more gems are found!

Oscar is one of the best written characters in my opinion, as his story is thight and perfectly intertwined with the main plot. Still, I think it has still to enter its climax, hence why he is only 7th place. Totally expecting him to climb higher, though.

9 - Emerald Sustrai

Emerald's arc has still to climax, but I like her set-up a lot and she is slowly going through a beautiful inner growth. There is already enough meet and actual development for her to just make the top 10 :P

9 - Pyrrha Nikos and James Ironwood

Both have masterfully written arcs and in terms of writing they could be higher. Still, I am less involved in their stories compared to others. In any case, they are two perfectly executed examples of tragedies. And different kinds of tragedies, as well.

Pyrrha's tragedy lies in the world around her. Ironwood's tragedy lies within himself.

11 - Lie Ren and Qrow Branwen

Both Ren and Qrow have beautiful arcs, but I am less involved with them when compared to others. So, here they are.

I would highlight this list doesn't consider characters like Salem, Nora, Raven, Summer or Mercury because even if set-up, their arcs still need to properly happen on-screen. Among them, though, I would say that Raven and Mercury especially have wonderful set-ups.

Raven's characterization and focus in volume 5 makes her one of the best written characters tbh. She is despicable, flawed, a coward and a hypocrite. And this is precisely why she is so great. She is very human and layered. It is clear she cares about Yang. Still, it is also clear she is too selfish and scared to act on her feelings. The way the narrative peels away her powerful mask to reveal a weak soul behind it is great. As it is the challenge for her to overcome her fear and make amends.

Mercury has so far one of the best set-up arc. His writing has been extremely thight and almost every scene he is in gives additioinal information on him, his background, his bonds with others and his feelings. All in a very subtle way. Basically, his writing is very rich and we can infer a lot, despite his arc having yet to start. He is the embodyment of the cycle of abuse and I am curious to see how this concept gets explored.

Finally, shout outs to Neo and Ilia. Their arcs aren't as complex or long and have less bits than the main characters'. Still, they are thight and perfectly executed.

Thank you for the ask!

#rwby #rwby chain of faves #asksfullofsugar #anonymous #penny polendina #cinder fall #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #jaune arc #ruby rose #blake belladonna #oscar pine #emerald sustrai #pyrrha nikos #james ironwood #raven branwen #mercury black

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flowerisevil · 2 years

Note

Could I request Daemon Targaryen X Reader, where the reader is kinda Oblivious to Daemons feelings, so maybe he gets jealous when she begins her marital tour and there are so many contenders?

I love jelly but kinda sensitive daddy daemon lol

The places we went |Reader x Daemon Targaryen

disclaimer: im only writing reader x character for requests k?

A/N: Idk what marital tour means I just watched the series so if i did something im sorry in advance. not proofread sorry

You always dream of getting married the idea of being in love and having a happy family gladly it's easy for you to find one being a Targaryen does have its benefits.

"your Grace, you have a visitor" you looked up to the servant that entered the garden.

Before you can even answer a tall man entered too, your eyes light up as soon as you saw him.

"Daemon!" you ran towards and hugged him, god he miss you so much.

You were smiling widely "I missed you! Are you staying here for good?" Daemon was too lost in your eyes to answer your question. He's been always smitten with the Lady, your witty quotes, and with your infectious smile.

"I guess so" The Prince can only answer.

"Just don't do anything wrong" You advise and squeezed his hand, god you missed him so much.

"Everything I do is wrong" Daemon joked.

You two talked about his travel in the garden until the sun went down.

"How about you? How are you?" Daemon changed the topic he wants to know what he missed in your life.

"Well, I'm starting my marital tour next week! I'm so excited" You said excitement was visible in your words. His heart dropped at your announcement marital tour.

"You know how I want to be married right? like wearing a beautiful gown and walking in an aisle, oh to experience that" You added.

"Well if you don't mind me asking what are your standards for your future lover then?" The prince asked in his head he was already taking notes.

"Well I like a soft man and kind one a man who knows everything about me even the smallest details and I love when he's very clingy and always gives time for me and of course I want him to make me his number one priority" Daemon looked at your sparkling eyes as you describe your dream man.

He gulped he knew that he was nothing like those especially the "give time for her" he's a busy man he has a lot of work in the City Watch and sometimes he can be always away, but that didn't let him down the next days he tried to be that man, the man you dream of.

One time you're shocked when you entered your room and it's filled with different kinds of flowers.

"Wow..." you asked your guard outside your chamber if he knew who did this but he said he didn't know.

"Well, then who could possibly do this?"

"Me" you turned around and saw Daemon smiling at you.

"Thanks, you're such a great friend" His smile immediately dropped at your response, friend? what kind of friend would fill his friend's room with a bunch of flowers without any fucking reason?

You steps close to him and hugged his neck.

One night you're walking around the castle when someone pats your shoulder you turned around and saw Daemon again.

"Come with me, I wanna show you something" you frowned but still come with him, you always trust him.

"Before we proceed..." he hummed and puts a cloth to cover your eyes, "Now.... just hold my arm and trust me" You flinched when him whispering in your ear, he brush his lips on your neck and you can feel him smirk when he felt your goosebumps.

You both walked because you can't see anything you just held tightly on his arm a thing that he enjoyed, you felt him hold your waist and lift you up he was putting you in a... you suddenly heard a neigh, a horse?

"Daemon what are you doing?" you asked curiously and tried to reach for him, you felt his hand grab yours from your front, and he intertwined your hands.

"Trust me, it'll be worth it" he assured and kissed your hand before wrapping it around his waist.

The ride didn't take long he helped you to get off the horse and walked more, and then he stopped making you stop too.

"We are here" he uttered and slowly took off the blindfold in your eyes.

You looked around and scanned the place it was a field full of dandelions and in front of her is a small picnic.

Your mouth dropped at what you saw, it's so beautiful the view of the moon and stars are so visible.

"You.... you did this?" you're speechless still astound by his surprise, you walked and sit on the blanket there are three baskets filled with different foods and all of them are your favorites.

"All for you, Issa hāedar" You didn't understand the last word he told you, Daemon would often tell you some Valyrian phrases that you can't understand every time you asked what it mean he wouldn't tell you.

"Thank you so much" you smiled and kissed his cheek, you opened one of the baskets and grabbed one muffin.

Daemon watches you as you eat it, he swallows hard while watching your lips seize the muffin, he put the piece of cloth he used to blindfold you earlier to cover the bulge that's growing between his thighs.

"Try it" You offered and stretch your arms close to him until the muffin reach in front of his lips, he took a bite and you smiled making him smile too, god your smile is everything to him.

"You have a- wait" You leaned closer to him and wipe the corner of her lips using your finger, you showed him the small bits of the bread that stayed on his lips.

After you eat both of you lay down on the blanket and stared at the sky.

"You're the best" You suddenly said "I refuse to believe what people in Westeros calls you, Rogue Prince" you laughed, Daemon just stares at you worried you never saw the real reason why he gained that nickname and he's scared that if you see the true dragon inside him you will be scared.

"You're the best person I ever met, you showed me the world, the world my father hid from me" you added being only daughter in a known house is never easy, you have everything except freedom.

"Well you deserve it sweetheart" he caress your cheek as he went closer to you hovering on top of you.

"Daemon..." you breathe.

Daemon tried to claim her lips but she turned her head "What's wrong?" Daemon worried if he did something wrong.

"This, we shouldn't you're my friend" you said, you can't do this with him he's your friend and you already love him and kissing him would just make it worse.

Daemon pursed his lips, you felt a guilt in your chest you want to kiss him but knowing Daemon he only fucks around with women, bed them and dump them next day yes you trust him with your life but with your heart? that's a different topic.

You can't take it anymore the silence was deafening so you choose what's the best move, you stood up and begin to walked away from him, you ride his horse and without saying anything to him you went back to your home.

After two days you're marital tour you felt relief knowing that you will be away from Daemon for some time but when you're father announced that he will accompany you through the whole tour you just want bang your head in the walls.

"It's the King's order, we can't do anything about it" you didn't argue with him anymore.

The whole trip to Storm's End was hard he didn't talk to you and you you're too scared and nervous to even approach him, you're so confused what he's getting mad at because you didn't let him kiss you? because you hurted his ego?

Those questions disappeared when the Lord of House Baratheon welcomed you with open arms.

"Tommorow will be a big day for you" Lord Baratheon said.

You're now in your assigned chambers when you heard a knock from your door but when you opened it no one was there you looked down and saw a string of flowers it was dandelions, you picked it up and entered back to your room.

The next day you didn't expect the number of contenders who was there, the line was so so so long.

"Wow" was only Lord Baratheon can only say when he saw the bunch of men trying to win your heart.

When it started you were so amused and entertained you can see how serious there are and how they try their best to prove themselves to you.

Daemon was watching you as you smile because of that one knight, his face made a disgusted look as he saw the man, he's trying too hard to look funny.

He wasn't offended when you reject his kiss he understands you but leaving him in the field without saying a word what makes him feral, were you mad? disgusted? sad? what? you're so hard to read.

After the event you asked your knights to bring you to the nearest shore and they did it was beautiful the feeling of the sand mixed with sea water pressing on your feet, you're white dress flow with the medium strong wind, you inhale the fresh air you felt so free.

Meanwhile, Daemon was watching you from afar admiring your beauty, seven hells she looks so ethereal. Your hair and white dress that's flowing with the wind, your eyes that's admiring the beautiful shore, your rosy lips that was forming a smile. He grabbed his chest as he felt his heart pounding so fast.

You turned around and you caught him staring at you while his hand was place in his chest.

You smiled to him, hoping to have a conversation with the prince gladly he smiled back and walked closer to you. Your smile turned into a sad one when you remember the event happened that night.

"Don't be sad love" Daemon lift your chin so you could look at his eyes, his beautiful violet eyes...

"I'm sorry about that night, I was scared I don't want to lose our friendship just because our desire led us, we can't be stupid" you spoke.

"We are not stupid, that's not stupid how long are you gonna realize why I did all of those things for you?" Daemon replied he caress both side of your cheeks.

"Wait! Did you did all that so you can ask for return?" You asked confused and perhaps disappointed.

The prince laughed at your understanding.

"No my love" he said and grabbed your hand and plants a kiss on it "I love you" Daemon said and his lips went to your arms continue kissing it until it reach your shoulder, neck, cheek and temple.

He placed your hand in his chest "Can you feel that love? my heart is beating fast because of you, you made me feel this" he said softly.

"I know you're still doubting me but-"

He was cut off when you pressed and long peck in his lips and said "Avy jorrāelan" as you pulled away. You always practiced for this how you will say your true feelings for him in his language.

Daemon hugged you tight, finally he have you in his arms, his girl.

a/n: sorry if its short im so tired I just came from an event and I'm also working on different requests, that's all thanks hope u like it

#daemon targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #daemon targeryan #fanfic #daemon targaryen imagine

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