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rosemaze-reveries · 3 months

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― enclosed with love

spending valentine's day with you eli, mary, michiko, naib, norton, percy, philippe

i adored this year's vday café designs so i wrote some hcs for them ^^

⚠️ modern AU

♡ Mary

With a delicate and highly sophisticated palate, Mary is always searching for something new to satisfy her. For Valentine's Day, she books a private tour at a high-end champagne house.

Her driver is scheduled to pick you up in the early afternoon. She arranged your date so “late” to give herself ample time to settle on an outfit. Her room is littered with hat boxes and empty hangers and piles of ‘maybes’. Everything must be perfect for you. But, every second without you feeds into her restlessness, and she ends up calling you to fill the time. Hours go by on the phone & she still refuses to hang up until she pulls outside your residence.

When she first greets you from the backseat of her car, her hands are on you immediately. She smoothes out the collar of your jacket and peppers a couple of warm kisses all across your face, somehow never quite landing on your lips. She quickly dabs away all the lipstick stamps she left with her handkerchief and apologizes for being so forward,,, only to end up doing it again.

Mary takes high pride in her outfits and never compromises on looking classy. But somewhere in the back of your head, you think: All white? To a wine tasting? What if she gets red stains on her dress? From anyone else, this comment would insult her ― she doesn't take kindly to the insinuation that she's a klutz. Coming from you, she laughs it off saying she's always looked better in red anyway.

She waits until arriving for your tour to present her gifts. Mary gives VERY generously. There's an entire table prepared for you. Mountains of roses, desserts, tickets to that trip you've always wanted to take, luxury spa packages -- she has everything.

♡ Norton

This Valentine's Day is the first Norton will be spending with someone. He'll act like he's not that invested in it, that he's just indulging you.

He keeps up a haughty smirk when you first meet for your date. You had a love letter delivered to him that morning, and he's 100% taking the opportunity to tease you about it. You wrote some pretty embarrassing things about him. How's the real deal living up to your expectations? Dying to bring some of those thoughts to life already? Unfortunately, you insisted on having a traditional date for Valentine's, so you'll have to keep yourself in check until tonight. ← He knows he makes you crazy & he loves having that effect on you.

He gives you chocolates as a gift. They're clearly homemade, shaped like rocks of various sizes with a little gold-dusted heart hidden among them. But just in case you wouldn't be able to recognize them as rocks, he also provided a little toothpick "pickaxe."

Presenting something homemade is a little embarrassing, even if he hides it with that big grin of his. He gives your present a little too fast before switching back to teasing you again.

♡ Philippe

As a perfectionist, Philippe starts planning for Valentine's Day very early. He experiments with all sorts of gift ideas. You're not sure what's going through his head, but he has a highly specific vision and won't rest until he achieves it. He seems to find it important that he gives you something handmade.

Matching photo lockets? A decoden case (if you're into fun phone cases)? Not meaningful enough. A flower vase modeled after his own hand, to sit on your desk? Too tacky. A wax figure? Maybe, but that's too predictable on its own. Maybe he should learn guitar to serenade you.

His final choice is ambitious, but Philippe always is. He builds a little table out of resin, and preserved inside it are your favorite flowers, with detailed wax figurines of you and him dancing among them. It sits in a corner of his favorite room, where he often does dance with you ♡

On the day itself, Philippe would prefer to stay home. It's one of the rare times he gets to have you to himself free of work constraints.

He's the type that always needs to be doing something with his hands. He'd enjoy making chocolate sculptures together -- it's a cute idea, he thinks, to watch you make something so passionately. Whatever your skill level, he loves anything you make.

In the evening, he'll take over all the cooking. A quiet night with steak and good wine (or your preferred drink) is a little cliche, but you both deserve it. Plus, he loves nothing more than casually chatting with you while he works in the kitchen.

♡ Naib

Naib isn't really into the idea of Valentine's Day. He might not even realize it's coming up unless you tell him about it. You'd have to be explicit that you're looking forward to spending the day with him, and even then, he's totally unprepared.

Gifts have never been his forte. Neither have grand romantic gestures. But he's good at working his pragmatic side into the little things: so rather than push himself to be this lovey-dovey, chocolates-and-roses type of lover for the day, he focuses on being 'present' for you.

He brings you breakfast in bed. He's a mean cook, and knows all your favorites. Everything he makes tastes like home, warm and full of love.

Most couples give each other flowers, he knows that, so he goes shopping for one. You're surprised when he presents you with a bouquet of lemons. In his mind, they're cool and refreshing like you, everyone could find a use for some lemons, and personally he finds the colors to be appealing. It doesn't occur to him that lemon bouquets might be an unusual thing to give.

He relies on you to direct the date. Whatever you say, he'll agree. In public, he never leans in for kisses but wouldn't oppose yours. You can try to stand closer to him & he'll slink an arm around your waist briefly, as if to reassure you that he'll always have a secure hold on you, but he'll pull away again before long.

♡ Percy

In spite of all of his eccentricities, Percy is surprisingly traditional when it comes to romance. He invites you to a nice dinner date & arrives much earlier than you, waiting with a bouquet and chocolates. When he first sees you, he wraps a secure arm around your shoulders to tenderly kiss your forehead.

Getting to see this side of him is the payoff of building such a deep relationship with him. Percy is a difficult person to get through. He's obsessive to a fault and cloisters himself away in his studio for days at a time ― no one else would have been able to breach his heart like you have. He will take proper measures to express your importance to him.

His first real kiss leaves tiny particles of something on your lips, but they're sweet in taste. He laughs at the startled look on your face and reassures you it was just a sugar cube. At first he says he was just fishing for a reaction, but later confesses: he was afraid the lips of an undead man might have an odd taste, so he crunched a sugar cube to sweeten it.

♡ Eli

Eli spends the morning delivering roses to other couples on his bicycle. People tend to get especially flattered when their flowers arrive via owl, so his services are very popular this time of year.

He enjoys the little bouts of happiness he can bring to others, but of course you are the one he wants to spend this day with most. With every bouquet he delivers, his mind wanders to you, imagining your reaction when he finally gets to deliver his gift.

He asks you to meet him at an ice cream parlor when his shift is done, around noon. Before you even see him, Brooke Rose flies over to tuck a thornless rose behind your ear, and you turn to find Eli already waiting at a table.

He gives you a small homemade cake and a letter he won't let you read until he's gone. He's a pretty sappy guy even in person, so you aren't sure how his letter will be much different. But having something to be excited about, even after you have to say goodbye, makes it worth it.

His bike rides have left very familiar with all the best spots around town. After splitting ice cream, he takes you for a ride to all the little places he thinks you'll love. A flower meadow, a bridge with a superstition attached: if you whisper the name of your love while crossing it, you'll be bound for life. Part of you suspects he made that up, but the way he says your name over and over makes your heart skip a beat.

Once the sun goes down, he brings you to a forest. Somehow he manages to time it just right. He gestures for you to stay very quiet, gently takes your hands, and suddenly you're encircled by hundreds of fireflies.

♡ Michiko

Since losing her ex-husband, Valentine's Day has become a bitter thing for Michiko, especially since it's so close to their anniversary. She has treated it as a day of mourning for some years. Of course, she keeps up a smile for you ― it's not in her character to impose her struggles on others.

The morning goes by slowly and comfortably. You wake up to a gentle massage and the smell of fresh baked pastries. She writes you a sweet letter in her neat script, and she adorns her letter with pressed flowers & a mini bouquet of your favorite candy.

She makes sure to get you a proper gift, too. She follows a rule of getting 1 indulgent and 1 practical thing: a box of luxury chocolates alongside a fine new coat.

Her ideal date would be something intimate and relaxing. Maybe the theatre, in a box reserved for two, or a shaded flower garden where you can enjoy a cup of tea.

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robertseanleonardthinker · 7 months

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house and wilson r both autistic and on complete opposite ends of the spectrum

(bear with me here i'm autistic myself and it's hard to articulate my thoughts)

wilson masks heavily. he knows he's different than everyone else and he tries so desperately not to be. he wants to be seen as a normal guy. he's the furthest thing from it but nobody needs to know that if he can help it. he knew he was different since he was a kid and it upset him. he worked so hard to create an image of himself that is palatable. he is very concious abt it. he clings to normalcy. his knuckles r white and his nails r digging into it. the only person he is ok with letting go of it for is house. house is is safe space. house is the one person he knows will not care if he acts a little different.

house, however, doesn't mask very much at all. if he wanted to, he probably could (although i also partially think he couldn't) but he doesn't. he just doesn't give a shit. he doesn't care abt what ppl think and he doesn't rlly care how he affects them either. he says what is on his mind. he is the way he is and he feels no shame for it. social rules r stupid and he doesn't respect them. he doesn't respect any rules.

wilson is primarily sensory avoident. he likes peace and calm. he especially doesn't like visual overstimulation. he likes things to be neat and pristine. when his space is organized, he can function. his environment influences the state of his head.

house is very sensory seeking. he thrives in chaos. he needs the outside world to be as fast and loud and hectic as his mind is. he needs noise and things to look at and something in his hand (his stupid red autism ball). he's never doing nothing when he's thinking. he likes soap operas and crappy reality tv partially because it's good background noise. it doesn't take up much brain power, but it's still a constant noise.

wilson has big body language. he is very expressive. i know this is rlly bc rsl is a stage actor and that's what they do but. let me have this. but that's just how he is. every symptom of autism exists on its own spectrum. some autistics have a very flat affect, very little body language, and very little expressions. some (wilson) have the exact opposite.

house doesn't outwardly show many of his emotions. he definitely feels them, they're very intense, but he doesn't display them. he isn't expressive, and it's not by choice. that's just naturally how he is.

this is more of a headcanon but whatever. wilson likes stim toys. he stims subtly (part of him trying to cling to normalcy. he needs to stim and he knows that but he won't do anything like hand flapping or rocking.), like with a fidget cube or one of those spinny rings. when he's alone, he'll sometimes let himself stim in bigger ways and it's a great release. he doesn't rlly need to stim as much as house does tho. also i think he'd love pressure and cuddling for stimulation. he'd like to be squished.

house is always stimming. this isn't a headcanon. this man is always doing something! pacing, playing with his ball, listening to music, he's always doing something for some sort of stimulation. he likes vestibular stimming and big full body stims best. he likes to move and do things. he likes to be busy. a fidget toy won't do much for him. he was a pretty active person before the infarction, and that was a great release for his emotions. but now he can't do the things he used to so he needs to constantly be moving. he doesn't get a big release so he's just constantly letting it out.

they're both very particular abt their ways of living, but they do not live the same way. wilson likes calm, house likes chaos. if this is disturbed, they get upset and distressed.

wilson has more shutdowns, house has more meltdowns. not to say they don't have both, tho.

also i feel the need to say this: house's special interest is humanity. he loves puzzles and humans are the greatest one of them all. everything he does is motivated by his need to know why people do what they do. oh and also monster trucks.

#anyone feel free to add ur own thoughts #autism #autistic greg house #autistic james wilson #house md #james wilson #greg house #i may be projecting a bit #(probably a lot)#the autism is autismimg tonight

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ultra-raging-ghost · 4 months

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All my egg designs!!

Click for better quality!!!

Design gushing under the cut vv

SO my height hc's for the eggs may be a lil controversial but i have several reasons lol

-Dapper, tallest, obviously in cannon bbh is a tall mf and dapper's the oldest demon it would make sense to me for her to be the tallest. A lot of ppl draw them in full suit but i prefer the sweater + button up look? I still gave him the bow that i enjoy drawing him with - sometimes i put it on his hat sometimes i put it on his neck lol also!!! i gave him blue accents and freckles for skeppy!!!

-Tallulah, second tallest, have you fucking seen wilbur soot?? wilbur soot is possibly the second tallest man ive seen in my entire life only preceeded by a 7 ft tall blonde man i met at the hospital, his daughter's gonna be tall. If dapper wasnt there she would be the tallest egg nobody can convince me otherwise. Obviously i gave her the classic wilbur sweater and beanie but i wanted her clothes to be pretty intentional - in my heart the death family all wear the cancer bows, so her and chayanne both have one and for Tallulah it's the only cool color in her palate aside from her matching shawl. Also it pained me to give her short hair but unfortunately its cannon :') oh also!! her hearing aid :D I also gave her little underdeveloped wings - theyre still growing in!! Alongside that theyre very downy, still got a bunch of pinfeathers and fluff <3

-Ramon, third tallest, in my mind ramon in a fucking unit. I gave him thick clothing and leather accents, good materials for hands on work and such, itll last a long time it makes sense Fit MC of 2b2t would dress ramon for function rather than fashion (although he still looks adorable). I normally see people drawing him with this wind breaker hat and goggles i dont really understand, ive always envisioned him with a welding mask (is that what theyre called??)!! I gave him pac's big doe eyes and a pair of soundproof pacman over-the-head headphones!!

-Chayanne, i dont know a ton about him but i do know hes a protector and i have seen what people draw of him!! Obviously i gave him the cancer pinned to his jacket, and as for his jacket its just a simple hoodie with a duck print on the front pocket. I wanted his palate to be yellow and purple - yellow for phil, purple for missa, wow revolutionary/s. His pants are tore up a lil and have stitching and patches in them (see the anarchy patch). His wings are more developed than his sister's and are pretty full with a dark, organized feathers. I gave him a shield, it has two wings on it (one light for missa, one dark for phil) i just feel like he'd carry one.

-Leo, i may have projected on her a lil <3 She's a softball girl in my heart!! Shes average height and kind of stocky cause in my mind shes very athletic. She mostly resembles Foolish, appearing mostly as a Totem, but she has purple accents such as in her clothing and eyes that are reminiscent of Vegeeta!

-Empanada, very short but still the tallest of the newest batch of eggs. She's the string bean of the bunch but i imagine under all the fluffy clothing shes a little muscular, gets it from her mamae bagi!!! I dressed her in mostly neutral and pink tones to match her sign and hat color - and as for her hat i imagine it as a VERY stylized beret, similar to pommes but it designed to look like a stack of pancakes with syrup pooling beneath them and the button on top is supposed to appear like a little square of butter!! Her horns, wings, and tail are white like mouse and tina's and she wears them proudly, even if she only has one horn <3 Her hair's split in two, black and pink.

-Pomme is very short, and she's dressed very fancily!! I like to imagine theres a stark contrast between the lolita/semiformal fashion of pomme and dapper to the informal wear of the rest of their siblings. The pattern on her dress is big apples trailing along the bottom of her skirt, and she's got star pattern tights to represent Etoiles <3 She's kind of a lil cryptid child, with a mouth at the back of her head just above her neck grinning away and two twin braids that float alongside her head.

-Richas!!! The shortest of the older eggs, his designs very simple mostly because he already wears a shirt which is the main focal point of his design for me. He's always been a cargo shorts egg to me, i dont know why!! But he lives in cargo shorts!! Richas chooses to be barefoot, its how he came into this world its how he'll leave. I actually looked up a prosthetic leg for reference for him and the top portion of prosthetic legs are usually patterned for the person wearing them, and i cant help but imagine that richas would choose for his leg to be the most atrocious yellow to ever exist and have all his family sign it. This is unseen, but under his hair he's wearing a bandanna with the brazilian flag on it! When viewed from behind you can see the knot tied around the back of his head, and when his hair's out of his eyes you could see it plastered to his forehead. I gave him lil horns because in my heart of hearts he's a demon, that lil egg is bad's egg too in my heart nobody can tell me otherwise.

-Sunny, one of the first eggs i designed - shes dressed just as i was as a child and by that i mean shes 100% a trailer park princess. They sport a "2 COOL 4 SCHOOL" shirt, with a plastic silver crown with jewels in it, and a pair of light up sketchers!! She has bear ears and paws and a bear-like nose and tail, they view Fred as their step-pa and he was the second parent they ever knew, it makes sense she'd wanna look like him!!

-Codeflippa looks almost identical to Juanaflippa, except she floats and is slightly greener... and is glitching..... and the shirt heart's on the other side than charlie remembers, but who's counting aye?? after your third death and revival maybe things get messy - hes not judging!!! I have this HC that the fed's aren't the only ones who can revive the eggs - theyre just the ones who've perfected it. I like to imagine codeflippa is the code/the rebellion's attempt at egg revival.

-Pepito, the smallest egg alive!! smallest ever so itty bitty so tiny!! only two months old!! Pepitos the smallest egg obviously, Pepito's wearing a cute little jumper with matching socks that dont really fit properly but are still just the cutest little thing to me <3 Pepito has devil horns and a tail because bad was the only person to really care for pepito properly before Q came along. Pepito mostly looks like a mix of roier and quackity, sporting a matching yellow pair of duck wings <3 I was tempted to put pepito in pepito's xmas bows because they were just the CUTEST but i restrained myself

-The dead eggs, the smallest.... Most of these babies were less than a month old when they passed for one reason or another so theyre all very tiny :') Flippa mostly looks like charlie, but she's got layered shirt and layered her skirt on top of her pants because he nor marianna know how to dress a baby </3 Tilin is a carbon copy of Q, she's a very shy young lad, shoeless and wearing one of Q's jackets which are absolutely huge on her. Not seen is his yellow pair of duck wings - theyre still baby wings so theyre very small and hidden behind him, full of downy feathers <3 Trumpet we didnt know for very long, but they were very fun to design!! Maxo definitely loved him, so i modeled his clothing after him mostly. I was trying to go for something like Blacklight aesthetic?? black paired with bright, contrasting patterns that would look good under a blacklight. Bobby is dressed the most ummm domestically id say. Very simply, like he was living on a farm and spent his days in the soft grass. I imagine he was shoeless by choice, because it was fun!! It was very obvious jaiden and roier loved him, so i tried to give him a kind expression and well taken care of wings. His feathers are still kind of downy and muted, but theyre more developed than Tilin's and are very well taken care of! I wanted his bandana and overalls to be the centerpiece of his design so aside from those he's got a plain white baggy shirt. I imagine its made of linen or something, bobby would smell like fresh laundry all the time..

-Gegg.

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seawing-vibes · 3 months

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HI THAT WAS ME IM SORRY TUMBLR ATE UR ASK. PERIL IS TRANS I KNOW HER ALSO INTEGRAL TO HER CHARACTER AND IM THE ONLY ONE WHO SEES IT(THATS BASICALLY THE ASK)

HII NO NEED TO BE SORRY TUMBLRS SYSTEM IS ASS!! THANK YOU SM FOR RESENDING THE ASK A <33 OKAY PERIL POST DO-OVER!!

SPECTRUM USED FROM THIS POST!!!!!!!!!

OKAY SO I JUST DECIDED TO FILL THE WHOLE THING OUT! I headcanon Peril as Intersex and nonbinary!! AND SAME FOR ME, they fall fight between “I know them” and “their lore is literally impacted by their transsexualism”!! Peril is a very Nonbinary character to me, the way she was raised to view things as very “black & white” and hosting a sense of little self autonomy— makes them finding a comfortable identity in a very “”in the middle”” gender compelling! Especially within the understanding of how Peril was raised and brought up in someone else’s vision, being able to find self-identity in that nature of breaking down the “black & white” structure that was forced on them through the act of finding identity in neutrality. I find the development of self-love extended through gender expression in that nature something that works well in-unison with Peril’s pre-existing themes! Especially in regards to the layered metaphors of the Necklace. As a nonbinary person myself - I found that to be a pinnacle moment of forced suppression of identity into something more “palatable” to the public perception - in this analysis that being the forcing of femininity onto a gnc aligning identity - speaking to the way many nonbinary identity’s are expected to lean “one direction or the other”. So that moment being involved in Perils story - and her breaking free of it and having a self-realization/control moment - very reflective of nonbinary/gender non conforming experiences !!

With that though - thats just my own interpretation and connection to those aspects of Peril’s characterization! I find her lore and themes within her character to speak to many universal experiences of identity that can be interpreted in a fluid way. Like I personally read it as a very compelling arc about non-conformity and applied my own experiences with gender expression onto it, but other interpretations/analyses are just as strong! Thats why I put this headcanon in the middle, because I find it connects heavily to their lore, but is similarly just an extension of it and not necessarily interwoven in-full. Its a lot of personal interpretation which is why the personable “I know them” also 100% fits my perception of transgenderism onto Peril <33

Also the Intersex headcanon is purely a me thing, I always thought Peril was intersex just like. Factually lmao (one of those “I somehow convinced myself this was canon and was surprised to learn it was not” moments lmao). The reason I included it as well is because within my headcanon I think Peril would similarly absorb her being intersex to a further extension of gender identity! Again, breaking down those “black & white” views that were forced on them through themself - literally! Notably being intersex does not inherently mean gender identity is going to be impacted as well, just for this headcanon I feel Peril’s relationship to their gender identity would be strongly impacted by them being intersex <3 !!

OKAY SORRY THIS GOT LONG BUT THIS WAS FUN TO WRITE! TWICE ! LMAO! I have lots of thoughts on these guys so feel free to ask any questions about the other characters if ya want!!! I have many thoughts lmao…

Also I love analyzing these dragons so if anyone has a different interpretation of the characters & wanna share PLEASE DO!!!! I love hearing other perspectives, especially if they contrast my own interpretations, it’s all so cool!!!! <333

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jaegersdevil · 8 months

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[college] basketball!eren headcanons

guys i’m back in the waiting room (& it’s fkn hot today)……… let’s write some headcanons!!

masterlist

a few points i've made in my bf!eren headcanons:

in basketball games against certain colleges, bf!eren gets so fired up and aggressive and lippy. he talks so much shit on the court (he's known for it), and isn't afraid to take shit either (which pisses off the other team, and the whole cycle starts again). but, it's a bonus for you when he gets off the court because he's looking extra hot..... and he knows it...... asshole

you wear bf!eren's spare jersey to his basketball games

bf!eren with a chain under his basketball jersey, his hair tied back and a thin headband, tape on his dodgy shoulder......... oh lordy

bf!eren's post-game meal is 3 big macs and 2 mcchickens AND a kids nugget meal (he wants to give you the toy that comes with it because he’s cute) but don’t forget dessert!! he sips his *diet* coke as a palate cleanser and then inhales an apple pie

bf!eren gets a job coaching a kids' basketball team, and that is a canon event

now i will elaborate....

basketball!eren wears nba jerseys in everyday life with sweat shorts & dunks/vans/birkenstocks (with socks) he is an effortlessly stylish college athlete ok he can pull off anything

basketball!eren has a piece of sports tape around his wrist with your name written in marker <3 (points to it whenever he scores if you aren’t there (e.g. games on the other side of the country), otherwise his finger is on you in the crowd)

whenever his favourite team is playing (call him basic, call him a bandwagon, but my man is in love with steph curry, so you know he supports golden state) & he can’t watch at home on the tv, basketball!eren sits and watches it on his phone (warning: he will speak to the phone like the team can hear him so keep an eye on him in public, especially at the library because he will yell)

basketball!eren got mvp in sophomore year (jean was like 2 points behind him) and he holds it over jean’s head because he is cheeky and a dick

basketball!eren wears a suit to and from his games (specifically a navy one with a white shirt, no tie, and its just so rahhhhhh) with his headphones on and a large cup of black coffee

now, i don't want to expose basketball!eren here, but in his headphones, only on game days, he plays taylor swift & rihanna

basketball!eren texts you nonstop when he's on the bus/plane to games (because connie is his seatmate (he loves him to death) but connie knocks the fuck out on these trips so eren gets very bored)

basketball!eren wears his hair in 2 styles when he plays: completely tied back with a thin headband or fully out with a thin headband (frothing over here sorry don't look at me: heavy emphasis on the 2nd style though)

basketball!eren has like a couple hundred thousand followers on instagram because he's a college basketball player and he's good and hot as fuck

basketball!eren posts photo dumps once a fortnight as a wrap-up for that time period because his life is so crazy hectic that he always has content for a new dump (i wish he was real guys)

basketball!eren loves loves showing you off (private but not secret on social media) & buying you gifts (instagram stories of your wrist with the new bracelet he gifted you for your birthday)

basketball!eren gets drafted in his senior year of college :') (chooses to graduate first and then go to the nba - he wasn't studying biomedical science for nothing!!! (not that he needs it anymore.......))

basketball!eren gets rookie of the year in his first season (crying)

#eren jaeger #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager imagines #eren jeager x reader #eren yaeger imagine #eren yaeger x reader #attack on titan imagine #eren jaeger imagine #eren yeager x reader #boyfriend!eren #basketball!eren #— ann writes!

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imnotavamp1r3 · 3 months

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♡ A guide to emo, goth, and scene! ♡

So since I see a lot of confusion over certain subcultures are and the differences between them, I thought I would make somewhat of a master post basically outlining the characteristics and differences of three aesthetics that I see misinterpreted a lot. If I do at any point get something wrong, feel free to correct me because I really don't intend to spread misinformation.

🎀 Emo

Emo is a music based subculture that first emerged in the 80s out of the hardcore scene. The name emo came from the music genre emocore, which was short for emotional hardcore. The fashion is typically pretty casual, with some staples being straightened and teased hair with a sideways fringe, black clothing, band shirts, arm warmers, sneakers, skinny jeans, fishnets, arm warmers, wide leg pants, studded belts, and merchandise from various properties like Emily The Strange, Nightmare Before Christmas, and Ruby Gloom.

Since the early days of emo, the music in the subculture has expanded outside of hardcore and post-hardcore, and has since gone on to include alternative rock, horror punk, metalcore, pop punk, and screamo. Some of the most prominent artists in the scene are Avril Lavigne, Blink 182, Fall Out Boy, Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, Pierce The Veil, and Sleeping With Sirens.

Since the subculture is mainly music based, fashion is not as important to being considered part of the scene. Therefore, not dressing in a specific way while listening to the music wouldn't make you a poser, but dressing emo while not listening to the music would. What is not considered emo is listening to a random genre of rock music. Bands like Metallica and Nirvana, while enjoyed by many emos, are not emo bands and therefore don't make someone emo. Furthermore, I can't believe I need to say this, but, contrary to what many people seem to think, kawaii people are also not emo. While it is common for kawaii people to listen to metal and other heavy music genres, their style is not at all similar to emo and they don't consider themselves as part of the subculture either.

🎀 Goth

Goth is probably the oldest subculture here, with it dating back to the 70s English punk scene, with bands like Siouxsie and the Banshees and The Cure pioneering the culture. The post-punk band Bauhaus' debut single 'Bela Lugosi's Dead,' a song inspired by the famous horror actor Bela Lugosi, who portrayed Dracula in the 1931 film adaptation and also starred in White Zombie which is a film that's typically referred to as the first zombie movie, is often considered the first gothic rock song.

Goth is a subculture with many different sub-subcultures. Some of the most popular are batcave, bubble goth, cyber goth (formerly referred to as gravers), death rock, mall goth (formerly known as spooky kids), nu goth, romantic goth, steampunk, vampire goth, and, my personal favourite, gothic lolita. Contrary to what many people think, I don't consider aesthetics like pastel goth (which I do love) to really be a part of goth since it doesn't have roots in goth. Obviously I'm not going to go over every substyle because that would take way too long and would have to require its own post, but some common staples in most of these styles is lots of black, horror-inspired imagery, very big teased hair, black or red lipstick (red was the most common in the earlier days), and very pale almost white skin. Therefore, e-girls and emos (e-girls especially) are not goth. Also, the fetishisation of the 'big tiddy goth girlfriend' is very demeaning and offensive to goths, as well as just not funny at all because of how it objectifies and reduces them to simply walking breasts who wear black.

Goth music is, in my opinion, some of the most accesible and palatable alternative music. The most popular genres are dark wave, electronic rock, gothic rock, industrial metal and rock, new wave, and post-punk. Some of the most popular bands are Bauhaus, Evanescence, Joy Division, Marilyn Manson, Rammstein, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Birthday Massacre, and The Cure.

🎀 Scene

Scene is an aesthetic that originated in the 2000s on the website MySpace as a derivative aesthetic to emo. Many scene kids were considered emo posers because of their unconventional style and the music they listened to, which included genres ranging from crunkcore to metalcore, often being considered 'trashy' by other subcultures. Despite all of the hate towards scene kids, many embraced their label and many of the most popular people in the subculture started being known as scene queens who are also often credited as the first influencers. This included people such as Ambrehhhisdead, LedaMonsterBunny, and Melissa Marie Green.

Some staples to the style are colourful clothes, straightened and teased hair with colourful raccoon hair extensions, the scene swoop fringe, brass knuckles or diamond necklaces, bows, leopard print, zebra print, colourful shorts, tutus, tight clothes, sunglasses, knee high converse, band shirts, and merchandise of characters like Gir from Invader Zim, Gloomy Bear, and Hello Kitty. Personally, I would consider the modern rendition of scene, scenecore, to be a different aesthetic that, while it is pretty similar to scene, typically borrows from aesthetics like glitchcore rather than emo or mcbling.

Scene music is pretty diverse in what it provides, as it ranges from very heavy genres such as deathcore and metalcore to more pop and rap adjacent genres like crunkcore and neon pop. Some of the most prominent artists are 3OH!3, All Time Low, Asking Alexandria, Blood on the Dance Floor (unfortunately), Bring Me The Horizon, Brokencyde, Cobra Starship, Dot Dot Curve, Jeffree Star, Ke$ha, Metro Station, and Millionaires. A lot of the music is known to ignore many of the typically conventions of music, with the lyrics often containing themes relating to partying and sex.

That's it, byeeeee! ˚｡⋆୨୧˚♡

#emo #scene #girlblogging #scenemo #rawring 20s #scene queen #rawr xd #pink scene #scemo #goth #mall goth #emo kid #2000s emo #scene kid #gothic #goth aesthetic

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 months

Text

Something There (Chapter 2)

7.1k words Roy Kent x Reader Warnings: Language, enemies-to-lovers, some sexual references, Roy still not being excited about women's sports, childish arguments between adults who clearly want each other

Series Masterlist

Roy threw his bag over his shoulder with a loud groan. Much to his annoyance, he had to start his day by parking on the far side of the lot; there were way more cars than he was used to, especially this early, and he didn’t recognize any of them. Whatever. Maybe Rebecca had some publicity event he’d forgotten about. Wouldn’t be the first time.

He walked into the Dog Track, only vaguely aware of the palatable excitement buzzing in the air as he went down the hall. It wasn’t unusual for him to only nod to people as he passed by instead of stopping to say hello, so that’s what he did, a bit creeped out by the wide smiles on people’s faces as they chattered in hushed tones. Weird.

The reason for the cars and the excitement finally smacked him in the face when he walked opened the door the changing room and found it full of women in sports bras, most of whom only offered him passing glances as they chattered animatedly to one another.

“Oh shit.”

Roy picked up his pace and hurried into his office, noticing its closed blinds and Nate very intentionally focusing on the white board by Roy’s desk. Without quite knowing why, Roy kept walking until he found himself standing in the Whippets’ office.

The American manager, dressed today in leggings and a Whippets jacket (still looking stupidly pretty, which Roy did his best to ignore), looked up from her heavy conversation with Lucas, eyebrow arched. “What’s up with you?”

Roy made a face, not enjoying the mocking tone in her voice. Or the fact that she was speaking to him at all. “Fuck d’you mean?”

Clearly stifling a giggle, she shrugged. “Well, you just charged into my office looking so red in the face it’s almost concerning. Do I need to call you a doctor or something?”

His eyebrows furrowed further. “There’s women changing in the- in the-”

“Changing room,” she finished for him, nodding emphatically. “That’s kind of what it’s for.”

“But it’s women.” Roy knew he sounded stupid as soon as the words left his mouth.

Her amused eyes darted to Lucas before refocusing on Roy. “Well, yeah. I manage a women’s team. Sorry if that wasn’t clear,” she snarked.

He blinked a few times, the warmth in his face growing from annoyance. “Well, you guys should fucking tell us when your team is using shit. Make a schedule or some shit. That way we know what the fuck’s going on.”

She stared at him coolly. “There is a schedule. Coach Beard made it.” Condescension dripped from her voice, letting Roy know she really didn’t have the patience for him.

Right. Roy had gotten a group email from Beard and had, of course, ignored it. He really needed to get his shit together.

When Roy didn’t respond, she continued, her expression completely icy now. “Huh. Every coach I’ve ever known has always made sure they knew what was going on in their club.” She turned to Lucas. “Is this a British thing?”

The assistant coach shrugged and pretended to start typing on his computer. He was staying the fuck out of whatever this was. Smart man.

Roy cleared his throat, feeling like he was losing a game he hadn’t signed up for. ““Well, I mean, I don’t want them to be uncom-”

“Coach Kent, I have had mostly male coaches for most of my career. Wearing a sports bra in front of men is not a big deal to any of these women. Just like being shirtless in front of me isn’t a big deal to your guys.” She spoke slowly, as if to a child.

He fucking hated it. “Just don’t want my guys making them uncomfortable,” he mumbled, no longer able to look her in the eye.

Her eyes narrowed as she brought herself to her full height and closed the space between them, bringing her face close to his, so close that if he leaned forward just a centimeter their noses would touch. “If they’re planning on making my team uncomfortable, then that’s a Roy Kent problem. If you can’t keep your team in check and make sure they act right, then you need to figure your shit out. Lucas, you’ve shared changing rooms with women’s teams before. Ever seen it be a problem?”

The coach, who was clearly listening with great interest, kept his eyes on the computer screen. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.” She turned back to Roy. “I’ll go ahead and assume you weren’t the one who left the lovely little notes in the lockers for us then.”

“That was Isaac’s idea.” Coach Beard appeared in the door that led out to the hall. The door Roy wished he’d used that morning.

“Good morning, Coach,” she greeted, her voice suddenly pleasant. “Isaac… McAdoo, right? He’s your captain?”

Beard nodded. “He thought it would be nice to leave a little something, let the ladies know they’re very welcome here at Nelson Road.” He gave Roy a pointed look before continuing. “They stayed after practice yesterday to write the notes and tidy up the lockers. It was Sam’s idea to get the water bottles.”

The way her face lit up made Roy’s stupid heart skip a beat. “Oh! Those are great. Make sure to thank the guys for us.” She turned to Roy, all friendliness gone. “Your players got these for us.” She pointed to the blue water bottle on her desk, the Whippets’ logo prominent. “They’re pretty nice guys. Must’ve learned from Nate and Beard.”

Ouch. With a scoff, Roy rolled his eyes. “Well-”

She looked at the nonexistent watch on her wrist. “Oop, would you look at that. Time for the W.F.C. Richmond’s first ever practice.” She glared at Roy. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Roy had to forcibly stop himself from watching her as she sauntered out of the offices, calling for her team to head out to the pitch.

Coach Lucas patted Roy on the shoulder as he followed suit. “There’s no winning against her once she gets going. Trust me,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Roy grunted, mouth in a straight line, pretending like he wasn’t focusing on getting his heartrate back to normal. Coach Beard looked thoroughly amused as Roy stayed still as a statue, waiting to hear total silence from the changing room before sulking back to his own office, where Nate quickly pretended to look busy and not like he’d been eavesdropping.

Beard’s eyes remained on Roy. “Boy, she knows how to push your buttons,” he mused.

“Does not,” Roy grumbled, feeling a bit like a schoolboy being badgered by his friends. He dropped into his chair, giving it a little spin from side to side, arms crossed stubbornly. “I don’t have fucking buttons.”

Lucas and I stood shoulder to shoulder as we watched the Whippets scrimmage. Under my sunglasses, my eyes were wide with joy. They were good, so good. When we signed these women, we knew there was going to be a lot of talent on this squad. But we could only dream of the chemistry we were already seeing on day one.

“Shit, can you imagine once they’re actually used to each other?” As always, Lucas was reading my mind.

I nodded. “Un. Fucking. Stoppable.” We bumped fists and knocked our hips into each other, a gesture we’d started doing when he was my coach in college. A gesture I knew we’d be making a lot this season.

“Oi!”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was shouting and who they were shouting at. With a groan, I turned around. Sure enough, Roy Kent was heading towards Lucas and I, looking ready for a fight. At this point, I wasn’t sure his face was capable of any other expression.

“Yeah, Coach Kent?” I pulled down my sunglasses, glaring at him from over the top, not giving a shit about professionalism or sharing or any of the other things I had promised Rebecca I’d be totally capable of.

Now standing in front of us, he nodded towards my scrimmage. “We need the pitch.”

I glanced at my phone. Sure enough, it was just past time for us to give up the field so the men could use it. Dammit.

Now, if it was Beard or Nate who had come out and asked us to give up the pitch, I would have gladly done so, and would have easily apologized. But because it was Roy Kent who was demanding that we move, my heels dug in all on their own.

“We’re almost done,” I answered breezily, as if he really didn’t matter to me. Which he didn’t.

“Oh no.” He stared at me indignantly. “You made a big fucking deal about there being a fucking schedule. I’m just following it.” He turned to the pitch, where my players continued their scrimmage. “Whistle!” A few women stopped, their faces perplexed. “Get off the fucking pitch!”

My vision went red. “Hey!” I grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face me. “You don’t fucking tell my team what to do!” I blew my whistle. “Keep going!” When play resumed, I looked back at Roy, whose face was nearly purple. “Roy Kent, don’t you ever tell my squad what to do, you fucking hear me?” My hands were balled into fists at my side. “If I were a man-”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Oh, fuck that. You and I both know that this has nothing to do with you being a woman and has everything to do with us needing the fucking pitch. So, knock off with your feminism for a fucking minute.”

He was right. I knew deep down that he was right. But something about the way he looked at me just lit a fire that I didn’t know if I could control. There was no way I could let him win.

I folded my arms and blew some loose hair out of my face. “You could try please,” I grumbled, knowing I looked like a pouting teenager and not a professional soccer coach.

His eyebrows flew up. “I’m sorry? You want me to say please? When it’s my turn on the pitch? Are you fucking joking?”

“Beard and Nate would have said please.”

His eyes narrowed, an unwilling acknowledgement that I was completely correct. “Fine.” He gritted his teeth. “Please.”

Every ounce of coldness returned to my body. “There, was that so hard?” I purred mockingly.

Before Roy could respond- probably something involving the word fuck- Lucas brought his whistle to his lips and blew it hard. “Alright ladies, let’s go! Bring it in!” He looked at the two of us, eyebrows raised. “If you two are still flirting, I’m going to take these gals to the weight room, cool?”

“Fuck off,” Roy and I scoffed in unison.

Once Lucas stopped laughing his ass off, we headed to the weight room and got our players started on their workouts. Finally, I turned to Lucas, who was still grinning.

“We weren’t flirting.” My tone was flat, blunt.

Lucas snorted. “Oh, you were totally flirting. So was he, to be fair.” He shrugged. “You could definitely do worse than Roy Kent, I’ll give you that. Man’s a legend. And still pretty hot.”

“Can’t stand that man,” I mumbled, wondering if I was trying to convince Lucas or myself. “He’s the fucking worst.”

“Then have some really passionate hate sex,” Lucas suggested, waggling his eyebrows. “Do something to take care of that tension between you two.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know, in some cultures, this is sexual harassment.”

“And in some cultures,” Lucas countered, “the way you look at Roy Kent would mean you have to marry him.”

Roy sighed as he leaned back in the chair in Doctor Sharon’s office. It had been a full week of sharing Nelson Road with the fucking Whippets. Of sharing it with her. And Roy felt like he’d aged an entire decade in that time.

They glared at each other in place of a greeting. They had shouting matches on the pitch. They muttered swear words at each other in the weight room. They rolled their eyes whenever the other was mentioned. And on more than one occasion, they got in each other’s faces, noses almost touching, lips way too close for Roy’s comfort.

He knew better. He fucking knew better. He hadn’t spent all that time with Ronald fucking McDonald for nothing. He’d grown and changed and become a better man. He’d learned to control the rage that thundered in his chest and to use it constructively. He’d become friends with Jamie Tartt of all people. Fuck, he even met with Dr. Sharon once a month. And yet here was this Yank, with her leggings and red lipstick and cocky grin, coming in and undoing all of it.

Roy closed his eyes as he listened to Doctor Sharon settle at her desk after closing the door. There was no way she hadn’t heard about what was going on between the two managers; everyone at the Dog Track knew what was happening, despite the assistant coaches’ combined efforts to keep things under control. He was surprised they hadn’t gotten called into Rebecca’s office to be properly shouted at like the children they were.

“You seem tired, Roy.” Doctor Sharon’s gentle voice made his eyes snap open. “Everything alright?”

He grunted, crossing his arms. No use dancing around things. “It’s the new women’s team,” he grumbled. “Their manager and I….” He glanced up at the ceiling, as if it held the right words to describe the white-hot rage he felt every time he looked at her. “…. Don’t get along.”

Doctor Sharon nodded. “I’ve heard.”

She didn’t say anything else, so Roy went on. “She’s just really fucking infuriating, y’know? All cocky and full of herself. Acts entitled to the pitch and the weight room and the changing room. And of course, Beard and fucking Nate like her and the fellas all act like she’s God’s gift to football. Just because she’s won a couple of trophies.”

“Was all of this your first impression of her?” Doctor Sharon asked after a moment.

Roy squirmed a little. “Well, I mean I met her at a club actually,” he admitted. “Right before she started working here. And I didn’t know who she was. And I made a comment implying that she wanted to flirt with me for attention, because I’m, well, me.” Fuck, he felt insufferable saying that part out loud. “And then I came into work and- fuck- there she is. Fucking stuck up as hell.” He shrugged. “And she’s shit at sharing,” he mumbled.

“Hmm.” Doctor Sharon looked thoughtful for a moment. “Have you thought about what it’s like for her right now?”

Her voice always calmed him down. “How d’you mean?”

She looked him straight in the eye. He liked that about her. “Well, she’s just given up her entire life to move here, where she knows literally one person, and she’s got a lot of responsibility on her shoulders to lead a football team that doesn’t know her yet. Sounds a bit like someone else we know, hmm?”

Roy shook his head. “No. She’s nothing like him. She’s arrogant and conceited and cocky and-”

“That sounds like the way you describe yourself at that age,” Doctor Sharon mused. Roy simply grunted, so she continued. “And, like her, you know what it’s like to suddenly be away from home and everyone you love, don’t you?”

He thought way back, to when he was a child, his grandad dropping him off with his blankie. “I was a fucking kid,” he argued. “That was different.”

Doctor Sharon shook her head. “We don’t compare baggage, remember?”

Roy nodded in defeat. “Fuck. Sorry. I know.” He fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “’m just really fucking annoyed about sharing Nelson Road,” he mumbled, hoping to change the topic a little.

Apparently, Doctor Sharon was going to let him. “Why is that?”

“Because it’s ours,” he said simply. “We finally got into a rhythm, you know? Lasso came in and turned everything upside down, turns me upside down, then he fucking left. And then Rebecca decides to put me in charge.” Roy shook his head. “And I get one fucking year to figure out how to be a manager before she brings in an entirely new team? It’s just a lot.”

Doctor Sharon nodded sympathetically. “That is a lot of change in a short time,” she affirmed. “How can we deal with that?”

Roy felt good as he walked out of Doctor Sharon’s office at the end of their hour. They’d discussed how Roy could cope with all the stress, about the things he could control to feel like he wasn’t helpless against all this change, and even some conflict resolution strategies she wanted him to try. Maybe he didn’t have to be an absolute prick about all this.

Of course, those thoughts went out the window when Roy turned a corner and saw George Willows. Everyone thought Roy had hated Trent Crimm, but George Willows was a whole other story. He was Roy’s least favorite journalist, to the point where the man didn’t even come to the Greyhounds’ press conferences due to the high chances of being screamed at.

And who should Willows be chatting with in a particularly friendly-looking manner, looking more like two flirting teenagers than professionals?

“Oi.” Roy furrowed his brow, keeping his eye on George, avoiding looking at a certain pretty American. “Fuck are you doing here?”

“We have an interview,” Coach Buck pipped up, scowling at Roy. “Did you need something, Coach Kent?”

She always sounded like she was spitting out his name.

Roy nodded. “Yeah. I need this prick-” He pointed to George. “-to get the fuck out of here before I escort him out myself.”

Before she could retort, George put his hands in front of himself defensively. “Hey, I’m not here for the Greyhounds, Roy. Just a little fluff piece on the Whippets and their new coach.” He smiled down at the manager when he mentioned her. “Help the people of Richmond know just how lucky they are to have her.”

The beaming smile on her face, aimed completely at George Willows, made Roy’s chest go painfully tight.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck off,” he groaned. “Honestly, they couldn’t have sent literally anyone else? What, it’s so hard to find someone to yammer off questions and hold a fucking tape recorder?”

“They use phones now, Grandad,” Jamie Tartt teased as he passed by, hair still damp from his shower. He saluted. “G’night, Coach Buck.”

“Night, Jamie!” she called, smiling at the striker. Apparently, she had a smile for everyone but Roy. Indeed, it disappeared when she glared at him. “Coach Kent, can I help you with something?”

Roy’s mouth went dry. Why the fuck did he let this woman get to him?

Since Roy wasn’t talking, she turned to George Willows. “Why don’t you head on into my office? I’ll be there in a moment.” She pointed the way to her office, all friendliness. Her frown reappeared once he was gone. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“That guy fucking sucks,” Roy said plainly. “Seriously. All of the press sucks, that guy might actually be the fucking devil.”

Her eyeroll rivalled the ones Roy was known for. “Well, if Roy Kent hates him, he must be a lovely person. Maybe even the second coming of Jesus Christ. If there’s nothing else you need to bitch about, I’d love it if you kindly fucked off, Coach Kent. I have an interview.” With that, she turned and swaggered off, with Roy trying his best to avoid watching her receding figure and ignoring the warmth in his cheeks when he failed.

We were coming close to the start of the season, and I felt multitudes calmer than I thought I would. My team was fantastic, and they seemed to like me as much as I liked them. Lucas and I had been working hard on our plays and were constantly trying to figure out who our captain would be; with so many strong leaders, it was a fun problem to have.

“Excellent job today, ladies!” I called out as I strolled through the locker room. “See you all in the morning!”

The players called out their goodnights as they headed to their lockers or to the showers. I smiled when I walked into the offices and saw Nate and Beard at their desks.

Coach Beard had done a good job with the schedule, no matter how much Roy Kent bitched about it; each day, the teams rotated between either starting practice an hour early or ending an hour later, so we didn’t have too much overlap in the showers and locker room. Today was our day to end late. Rebecca had said this was temporary, that hopefully she’d eventually build us our own training facility and just use Nelson Road for games, but I didn’t mind the sharing. Not with the Greyhounds, who were gracious and kind and made sure my team felt welcome. Not with Beard and Nate, who were friendly and always offering help with anything we needed as our first match quickly approached. The only problem was- well, I didn’t need to think about him right now.

“Hello, Greyhounds,” I greeted politely. “You guys all done for the day?”

Nate smiled. “Yes, all done. And you guys? Er, gals?” He paused for a moment, his face scrunched in thought. “Ladies?”

I laughed. “Gals and ladies both work just fine,” I assured him. “And yeah, we’re wrapped up.” I paused, looking at Nate thoughtfully. “Hey, could I have Lucas run some plays by you? I’ve heard you’re something of a whiz with plays and strategy.” I shot a wink in Beard’s direction. “Some people told me you’re a real wonder kid.”

Nate’s smile widened. “Oh, yes, absolutely, I’d love to help.”

Beard gave me a nod of approval as Nate jumped up to go find Lucas in our office. “That was very nice of you.”

I shrugged, taking Roy’s empty chair, not caring if he walked in and saw me in it. “Nice has nothing to do with it. We’ll take any help we can get. If Nate’s as good as you’ve said- which I’m sure he is- I hope you all don’t mind sharing that brain of his from time to time.”

“I’m fine with it. And Nate would be thrilled to help you out. Just don’t let Roy hear about it,” Beard teased. “He’s not one for sharing.”

“Especially not with me,” I hummed with an eyeroll. I wondered if I was damaging my eyesight from doing that so much lately. “Has he always been like this?”

Coach Beard looked thoughtful for a moment. “Roy… is a tough cookie,” he said carefully. “He didn’t exactly love Ted and me when we first got here. But we broke through those walls, and honestly, we’re pretty close now. He was the best man at my wedding.” He tapped his pen against his desk. “I actually thought he’d have an easier time with this whole women’s team thing, if I’m being honest.”

“Great, so it’s me he hates, not women’s sports,” I joked, earning a sympathetic half-smile from Beard. My eyes landed on a photo hanging on the wall, one of the three Greyhound coaches and another mustached man, one I knew immediately even if we’d never met. “Bet you all miss him a lot,” I mused.

A small sigh escaped Beard’s lips. “You have no idea.” His voice was the softest I’d heard it. “He’d get you and Roy all sorted out, that’s for sure.”

The tip of my nose went warm, thinking about all the shit the other coaches had dealt with over the past few weeks. “I’m really sorry about-”

Beard shook his head. “Growing pains,” he said simply. “You’re both good coaches. Both passionate about the sport. Which makes you both a little hardheaded. You’ll figure it out.” He paused. “Or Rebecca’ll fire you both.”

Despite his serious face, I laughed. “Guess that’s a good motivation to stop calling him a fucking asshole in the hallways, huh?”

Coach Beard’s smile matched mine. “Whatever works.” His phone pinged, calling his attention to it. “Gotta head out. My wife made sushi for dinner for the first time so I should probably grab some stomach medicine.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “We’ll have you over sometime. If we invite Roy, we can have a four-way screaming contest.”

A little perplexed by what he meant by that, I nodded. “Sure, Coach. Enjoy your food poisoning. Maybe tell the missus that you had some weird English food for lunch so you can blame that.”

He tapped his head. “Smart. Love it.” With a wave, he turned and went through my office, offering quick goodbyes to Nate and Lucas.

After heaving myself out of Roy’s chair, I peeked into my office. Nate and Lucas were poring over our playbook, discussing how to adjust a particular play we’d been struggling with. Both men looked up at me expectantly.

“Hey Luke, I’m going to do some running before I head home. Need to start forming good habits again. Don’t worry about me if you guys finish, I’ll just take a cab home if you’re gone.”

Lucas nodded. ��No problem. See you tomorrow, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, Coach!” Nate added, his smile wide.

I walked across the room to grab my workout bag. “Later, guys!” I hollered, waving over my shoulder as I left the office.

Once I’d changed into some shorts and sports bra, I whistled as I walked to the weight room. It was well past quitting time, with most offices empty and closed up, my remaining players straggling out of the locker room to head home for the night. As I approached the weight room, I grabbed my keys to unlock it, something Rebecca had assured me I was more than welcome to do anytime, but I found the door was already cracked open.

My eyes instinctively narrowed as I looked inside. The universe was truly cruel; a shirtless Roy Kent was on one of the two treadmills, gazing at the television on the wall above him, watching… Lust Conquers All? Jamie had mentioned the show to me, bashfully explaining that he’d been on it a few seasons back. Not what I expected to see the Greyhound’s manager watching as he jogged.

Deciding not to use my voice to alert him to my presence, I let the door close loudly behind me. Roy glanced over his shoulder, grunting when he saw me. Taking that as his way of saying he wasn’t interested in a fight, I continued into the room, heading towards the lone treadmill next to his. I quickly dropped my Whippets water bottle into the cupholder and jumped onto the treadmill, setting it to a light pace.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were our feet on the treadmills and the obnoxious voices of the Lust Conquers All contestants onscreen. Not knowing what came over me, I glanced to my left at Roy. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see that he had kept in shape post-retirement; after all, wasn’t I on the treadmill trying to do the same thing? But wow, the man looked good. My eyes couldn’t resist lingering on the thick hair covering his chest. It reminded me a bit of Sean Connery in the old James Bond movies my parents used watch; those movies had given me a great appreciation for views like the one before me. Some quiet voice in the back of my head considered that, if this man didn’t drive me crazy, I’d probably be into him.

Shaking my head to clear out the ridiculous intrusive thoughts that were quickly becoming steamy, I turned my eyes back to the screen, trying to figure out which contestant was trying to sleep with which. It was weirdly comforting to see that, even across an ocean, reality trash still remained. Over the past weeks, I had clung to anything that reminded me of home; maybe I’d have to start watching Lust Conquers All as a weird way to cope with homesickness. Lucas would surely get a kick out of that. Heck, I could probably get him to join me.

When the show went to commercial break, I felt the hair on my neck prickle, as if I were being watched. Sure enough, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Roy’s gaze on me, trailing slowly down my body as I jogged on the treadmill. A flush covered every inch of my skin where his eyes dawdled, my heart going faster than it normally did when I ran. There was something eerily familiar about the way he shook his head and looked back up at the television, as if a phone commercial was the most interesting thing in the world.

We ran in silence until the show ended. Once the trailer for the next episode began, Roy turned off his treadmill and climbed down. Our eyes met for a brief moment, the contact taking place of any cheerful “goodnights” most people would have exchanged. After he grabbed his own things, he silently placed the television remote on my treadmill, not quite looking at me.

The only other thing I heard was the sound of the door clicking closed behind him as he left.

“Hi Roy!”

Roy paused and turned around, hand poised to open the driver’s side door. “Keeley,” he greeted, letting his hand drop to his side.

The blonde practically skipped over to him looking particularly happy. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.” He frowned. He liked Keeley; they were friends, he’d venture to say good friends, bordering on best friends. But something glinted in her eye that made Roy uneasy. “You?”

“Great, great.” She paused a moment, swaying from side to side. “I have something really fun that I’ve been working on,” Keeley hummed.

Roy felt his antenna go up in suspicion. “Uh huh.”

Keeley’s expression was that of someone who was up to something. “And I could really use your help with it, Roy.”

There it was.

“Keeley,” he growled, raising his eyebrows at her. “Can you just tell me what you need?”

She offered Roy her best don’t-you-love-me smile, as if trying to remind him that they were friends. “A photoshoot. Featuring our fabulous Richmond coaches!”

Roy threw his head back. Keeley knew better. Roy hated this kind of shit. There was no way she’d ever ask if he wanted to- oh.

“I don’t have a fucking choice, do I?” he groaned.

Wrinkling her nose, Keeley shook her head. “D’you really think I’d ask you if you didn’t have to do it?” She shrugged. “Sorry, Roy. Rebecca’s orders. So come in tomorrow looking camera-ready, alright?”

Roy took “camera-ready” pretty loosely. He came in the next morning looking like himself, just a bit dressier: black button-down shirt, black slacks, beard, scowl. Keeley didn’t look too surprised when she saw him, just smiled and dragged him to the makeup artist. As he sat in the chair, begrudgingly letting the girl put exactly one layer of mascara on him, he coughed to get Keeley’s attention.

“Where’s Nate? Beard? Or are they pretty enough without makeup?”

“What?” Keeley looked up from her phone and shook her head. “Oh, no, they’re not doing this.” She bit her lip, the fear in her eyes telling Roy she did not want to say the next words that came out of her mouth. “It’s, er, just the managers.” Her voice became itty bitty. “So, you know, just you and Coach Bucky.”

Roy threw his head back so quickly he almost got poked in the eye with the mascara. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” he hissed. “So not only am I missing training, not only do I have to do a fucking photoshoot, but I have to do it with her?”

As if summoned like the demon she was, the American bounded into the office Keeley had commandeered as a staging room. Roy’s breath caught in his throat; he’d been working his ass off to get so many images out of his head: the little black dress she’d been wearing at the club, the red smirk she sported in her first press conference, the shorts she wore on the treadmill. But this had to be the fucking worst.

Not only was she wearing that red lipstick that he realized was probably her signature look at this point, but her hair was down- something he’d yet to see- and wavy and framing her face in that way Roy thought only models could accomplish. She was wearing full makeup, a natural look that accentuated her attractive features. Worse, she was wearing a fucking dress, one that hugged her curves and showed off her athletic figure. Roy hated the way his heart was pounding at the sight of her.

“Fuck you look sexy as hell!” Keeley squealed, giving the coach a once-over. “Doesn’t she look great, Roy?”

Before Roy could figure out an evasive response, laughter hit his ears.

“Oh, trust me. Coach Kent probably thinks I look like some young thing trying to trick him into dancing with me. Isn’t that right, Coach?”

Giggling, Keeley shoved the far-too-pretty manager. “Oh, leave him alone. Today’s rough enough for Roy. He doesn’t love this kind of thing.”

“Is it because vampires don’t show up on camera?”

“Oi!” Roy stood up, teeth bared. “Just because you love being the center of attention and having cameras on you and getting prickish journalists to giggle at your stupid jokes doesn’t mean everyone does. Not all of us have your fucking ego that needs to be fed constantly.”

Keeley cleared her throat. “Alright you two, why don’t we take this energy out to the pitch, hmm? Time to take some pretty pictures.”

The two managers grumbled in agreement and followed Keeley out of the room, avoiding looking at each other until they were outside. In the back of his head, Roy wondered if this was Buck’s first time on the main pitch; of course, he didn’t ask. That would require actually giving a shit.

Instead, he did his best to listen as Keeley introduced to two managers to the photographer, explaining that she and Rebecca thought these promo photos would be a great way to garner more interest in the Whippets and show the Greyhounds’ support for the women’s team, and that, if these came out well, they’d do photos of both teams as well.

“Right.” The photographer, an older man Roy had met against his will a handful of times, snapped his gum and studied the managers. “Let’s do this.”

Under Keeley’s anxious supervision, the photographer directed the two gaffers onto the grass, posing them as if they were dolls and clicking away before shifting poses, a pattern Roy knew well and hated. Roy’s stomach was in knots when the photographer instructed him to look down at the pretty, pretty coach.

“Like you admire her,” he suggested.

The American snorted. “Good luck with that one,” she mumbled.

Roy sucked in a breath through his teeth. This was already a long fucking day. This wasn’t the kind of shit he’d signed up for when he came back to Richmond after his retirement. But he reminded himself that this was for Keeley and Rebecca; he’d have to do his fucking best.

So, for once, he did as he was told. Roy knew the photographer meant admiration in a professional way, as a fellow coach. But instead, Roy let himself look at her the way he’d been avoiding since her first day at Nelson Road. He took in the sight of her unabashedly, resentfully admitting to himself that the view from up close was fucking nice when he wasn’t being screamed at.

When her eyes met his, Roy felt his brain fizz out and shut down. She was too close, too pretty, too annoying, too perfect.

“Great,” the photographer called, his camera clicking away. “Think you could get a smidge closer?”

Hating the stupid knots in his stupid stomach, Roy took a step away. “Really? Want me to hold her like we’re going to a fucking dance?” he barked.

“Roy,” Keeley warned gently, eyebrows raised.

“Just take the fucking photos, Kent,” came a grumbling voice from next to him.

Roy scoffed. “Yeah, you’d love that wouldn’t you?”

A sigh escaped those red lips. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He dug himself deeper, desperate to just be done with this shit already. “Just that you must be really fucking excited to have your pretty picture taken, yeah?”

Her eyes narrowed. “That is the second time you’ve said shit like that to me today. Tell me what the fuck you mean by that.”

Their voices were rising as Keeley watched in utter frustration. She’d told Rebecca that this wasn’t the best idea. But the Amazon of a woman had insisted that the two would be able to put their issues aside for something as simple as a fucking photoshoot.

“Oi!” Keeley shook her head at the two red-faced managers. “Go to Rebecca’s office. I’m done with you two and whatever weird sexual thing you’ve got happening here.” She turned to the photographer. “I’m so sorry. Let me to grab a couple players, we can get some shots for the website or something.” She looked at the frozen coaches. “Fucking go!”

I’d been sent to the principal’s office plenty of times as a kid. Mostly for fighting with the boys when they refused to let me play with them, or when told me I played “like a girl” (as if it were an insult), or the time a particularly stupid classmate threw mud all over my Mia Hamm jersey and I decided to give him a bloody nose. Getting in trouble for fighting with idiots was nothing new to me.

But Rebecca Welton wasn’t going to give me a detention and call my parents.

“I am not losing this job because of you,” I informed Roy as we trudged through the hallways. “I was just trying to get things over with. But oh no, you with your fucking comments about me and pictures.” I shook my head. “It’s part of the job, Kent. You might not know this, what with playing for fucking Chelsea, but publicity matters for a new club. Especially a women’s club.”I stopped and faced Roy, who mirrored my pause. “So yeah, I had more to gain from that shoot than you did. But don’t you dare fucking judge me for that. You will never understand-”

“Oi!” Rebecca’s presence filled the hallway. “Lovebirds. In my office, now.”

Hoping Roy felt as childish as I did, I looked down as I walked into Rebecca’s office. She towered over her desk and pointed silently to the chairs, ordering us to sit down without a word. We did as we were told, both of us looking defeated with our shoulders slumped and heads down.

Roy tried first. “Rebecca, I-”

“Nope.” Rebecca crossed her arms, staring firmly at the two of us.

My turn. “We are so sor-”

Rebecca shook her head. “Don’t want to hear that either.” She rubbed her temples gingerly. “I don’t want to hear sorry, or it’s not my fault, or we’ll be better, or any of it.” She sighed. “I knew it would be an adjustment, starting a new team and having to share the Dog Track, but what the actual fuck, you two?” She threw her arms in the air. “What? Do we need to throw you in a boxing ring? Or get you a fucking hotel room?” She pointed at me. “You are a fucking Olympic champion. You think Mia fucking Hamm acts like this? You think this is what I hired you for? To set this example to the team and all the little girls who’ll be watching you?” She turned on Roy. “And you? Jesus Christ, Roy. I am trusting you with the most important thing in my life, with my family.” Her voice cracked. “Do not make me lose another manager,” she whispered.

Roy and I exchanged shamed glances, neither of us sure what to say.

Rebecca went on. “You are both incredible coaches. I see you on that pitch. When you’re not biting each other’s heads off, you’re doing great things with your teams. Your assistant coaches adore you when they’re not having to manage whatever-” She gestured between us in exasperation. “-this is. And I really think both of our teams can have a successful season, if we can get the two of you focused.”

We both nodded earnestly; fuck, I’d marry Roy Kent if it meant making Rebecca happy.

“So, pack your bags, make sure your pets are fed, because next weekend we are all going on a team-building retreat. Whippets and Greyhounds, first annual weekend of figuring out how to fucking get along and act like adults.”

There was panic in Roy Kent’s eyes as he leaned forward. “Rebecca, we are this fucking close to the start of the season, if we’re going to win our first match-”

Rebecca raised a cool eyebrow at him. “Roy Kent, you full well this team’s philosophy about where winning lands on our list of priorities.” Roy sat back, grumbling something about Ronald McDonald. “Your teams will have opportunities to train while we’re there. I do like having a winning team, after all,” she added quickly. Rebecca raised an eyebrow, waiting for us to protest some more. “Any more questions?”

We both shook our heads like obedient children.

“Right. I’ll have Higgins send you the details and you can let your teams know.” She put on a mocking smile. “It’ll be a grand old time. You, me, the teams, the woods, and conflict-resolution training.”

“I don’t think the Greyhounds and Whippets need much of that,” I found myself saying. “They get along great.”

Rebecca’s tight grin remained. “Oh, I know. I’m hoping the two of you can learn something from them.” She gestured towards the door. “Off with you then.”

Dismissed, Roy and I stood and made our way out the door, away from Rebecca’s scrutinizing gaze. Once we were far enough away that Rebecca wouldn’t hear us, we looked at each other, all anger gone for once.

“Going to be a miserable fucking weekend,” Roy mumbled.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Taglist: @callmecasey81 @ladygrey03 @puckyou-forpuckssake @royalestrellas @optimisticsandwichgladiator @reading-blogs @shineforever19 @rae4725 @burnafter-reading @her-fandom-sanctum @infinetlyforgotten @giggling-sewer-ginger @whataloadofmalarkey @agentstarkid @kingleahhh @tortilla-maria1 @geekgirl1996 @amatswimming @meg-ro @spicyraccoonlordking @spaghetti-dad187 @needlesthreadandbuttons @elissaaa @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @reverieisaway @djskakakaksjsj-blog @thatonedogwithablog @allthetroubleiveseen @sunderland-6 @netflix-addict @paranormal-is-my-life @jill2629-blog @itsbuzzfeedbitch @pretzelactivist @amieinghigh @kashee-h

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

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ambrosiagourmet · 3 months

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Gimme a Kabru for the ask meme

Ahhhh hi I'm still doing this I will finish them let's go

Kabru!!

First impression

Once again gonna go for a pre-reading impression, bc honestly I really think the fandom osmosis impression I got was so off imho. So, Kabru first impression:

what if there was a hater. in the dungeon. :0

Impression now

I LOVE HIM... He's constantly agonizing over everything he does and the impact it could have and the big picture and its gonna burn him out completely someday if he doesn't slow down and realize he's allowed to live for himself sometimes. In a story chock full of survivor's guilt he is Mister Survivor's Guilt. He feels like he needs to do something to earn his existence, and that's such a heavy burden he has put on himself. Ough.

Favorite moment

There are a ton of little parts from the story that I love, but I actually want to highlight this bit from one of the Adventurer's Bible comics that lives with me:

I don't know, there's just something... something about it. Allowing Mithrun the privacy of his own story is such a strange kindness. Who else but Kabru could have thought to provide it?

Kabru, who wears Utaya across his shoulders everywhere he goes, but also never shares much about his mom, his food, the things he misses from Utaya. Or the superstitions about his eye color, and the ways that even the place he misses most wasn't always a kind home to him. Kabru, who has learned exactly how to cut up the piece of his own story in order to be able to hold the weight of them all and do the things he needs to do.

Kabru looks at Mithrun, someone who doesn't have the ability to care for himself, and provides this service to him. Offers him privacy. Privacy. The people around Mithrun have cared for him for years, but who has given him this?? Food, sleep, water, basic hygiene... but Mithrun deserves dignities beyond that too, even if he isn't able to ask for them.

And Kabru takes his eye for creating palatable stories, which he has often used to make himself fit in or force himself through unpleasant things, and uses it to help Mithrun in a way that no one else had.

Idea for a story

I don't have anything super specific here, just a GREAT DESIRE for post-canon Kabru stuff. I want to see him and Marcille become friends. I want to see him struggle to figure himself out now that his driving motive has been resolved. I want to see him forced to consider that he can't always do things for the Bigger Picture. I want to see how his relationships with his party members change. I want to see the adventures of the Laios - Marcille - Kabru trio. Pleaaaaaaase

Unpopular opinion

He's not just a hater in a dungeon.......

Like for sure his feelings about Laios are complicated and boy can they include Haterism, but also he is like the only person who vouches for Laios at certain points. Kabru intentionally chooses to have faith in him at several key moments, and the ending of the story hinges upon that faith.

I think he's got a very black and white way of looking at things sometimes, and he likes to be in control. This is where the haterism can come in.

BUT there's so much more than just that to him. Kabru is an extremely caring person in general. He notices details about people and often uses those observations to care for them - Mithrun in the example above, for instance, or the way that he thinks about how hard it would be for Rin to go back to the elves when considering whether to hand the dungeon over to them. He has a strong sense of justice. He is loyal to his promises.

I just wish those elements of his personality were given more significance in the fandom :/

Favorite relationship

Gotta go with him and Mithrun here. They bring out such interesting sides to each other. Some of my favorite moments are them surviving in the dungeon together, and of course that comic is one of my fave moments. The way Kabru understands him and continually chooses to use that understanding to provide kindness and support to Mithrun... it's good.

But also I think that Mithrun gets to a core part of Kabru that Kabru usually tries to keep hidden. Some part of the survivor's guilt, I think... the way Kabru is driven by a sense of obligation to a thing he Cannot Ever Bring Back.

They both pull something out of the other that no one else does, at least over the course of the story.

Favorite headcanon

Hmmmmm... does "he and Marcille will be besties someday" count? I think it counts. I love the idea of them being gossip-heads.

#ask #ask meme #I've got... two more of these left to do now. I will finish them. I WILL

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socialjusticeinamerica · 4 months

Text

Nimaratta Randhawa “Nikki” Haley anglicized her name and her entire life to gain acceptance from a racist, white supremacist, white nationalist, far-right Republican Party of grifters. Haley chose to become a useful idiot for the Republicans and to share in their criminal grift.

Don’t fool yourself into believing all people of color or all marginalized people are hand in hand in some grand coalition. Haley and others do not support African-Americans, just the opposite, they want to distance themselves from them to gain acceptance from autocratic right-wing Republicans.

This is egregious. Haley denies her heritage and then becomes irate when Trump calls her by her legal name. Curiously the Trumps switched from Drumpf themselves to sound less ethnic.

I’m going to beat this dead horse again. Republicans will always refer to Barry Obama as Barack Hussein Obama to make him sound foreign and menacing and make a not so subtle reference to Saddam Hussein and radical Muslims which they villainize. Saddam wasn’t a radical religious fanatic nor was he involved in 9/11 but that’s another can of worms.

Let us not forget Rafael Eduardo Cruz who has labeled himself “Ted”. Republicans at Trump rallies literally chant “send those sp-cs back”. Rafael and his Dominionist father Rafael Sr know the Republican oligarchs and political establishment won’t accept a Hispanic named candidate so the decision was made to anglicize himself to “Ted”. This makes him more palatable to racist redneck Republican douche bag voters. Another useful idiot changing himself to be accepted by white supremacists autocrats. Racially Cruz is white and his claim to being Hispanic are dubious since he was born and raised in Canada and the US and his papi only lived in Cuba for about 17 years. Rafael Sr’s parents moved to Cuba from Spain just prior to his birth. Racially they’re white. The hypocrisy is stunning as Rafael claims to be Hispanic at election time to garner Hispanic votes in Texas. In point of fact the name Cruz is typically Portuguese but is sometimes found in Spain. Ted ALWAYS calls “Barry” by his given name of Barack Hussein Obama with emphasis on Hussein. The name Hussein is actually one of the most common names in the Middle East and does not imply connects to Saddam like the Republikkkans would have you believe.

While on the subject of name games. Devin Nunes is 100% white European Portuguese. The name is pronounced “noons” but Devin likes to go by “noon-yez” to imply he is Hispanic. Why? Same reason as “Ted”. Rafael’s claimed home state of Texas has a large number of Hispanic residents. California similarly has a large number of Hispanic residents and Devin needed some of their votes to get into office. Devin has even gone as far as to claim to be Hispanic which he is not. No connection to Spain or any of its former South/Central American territories.

These may seem like minor or subtle points but remember that Republicans can only win by cheating or by counting on Democrats staying home. Races are increasingly coming down to the wire and being won by a small number of votes. Nikki has fooled the entire Republican base into believing she’s white and doesn’t want to Trump to say her parents are immigrants from India. The Republikkkan party is built on racism and hatred of immigrants and the truth could potentially cost Nikki millions of votes. Likewise Ted needs to be anglicized for the same reason. Ted goes a step further with micro-advertising to Hispanic communities to gain some of their support without catching the attention of racist and anti-immigrant Republican deplorable assholes. Devin takes a different tack by openly claiming in the past to be Hispanic while privately claiming to be white European in private. Devin is not a national figure and had only to get votes in a small Congressional district where the Hispanic votes were crucial to his election. Like Ted he doesn’t even speak Spanish, however he does speak Portuguese poorly.

Three double dealing useful idiots in service to America First white nationalists. Three immigrant backgrounds covered up. One hoping nobody notices she’s South Asian even though she’s become unrecognizable from her own childhood photos. Three Trump trash traitors to America using a heinous political propaganda machine created by Karl Rove and now in the hands of racist, nativist, trash.

#republican assholes #traitor trump #republican hypocrisy #crooked donald #republican family values #republican values #traitor #resist #“Nikki’’#Republican dirty tricks #republicans are a numerical minority

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pedge-stuff · 11 months

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HC: like if u are dating Pedro he is protective af in public. like the man is so sweet and wholesome but i like to think that if you ever get “harassed” in public or someone tried to record you,bother you, say he can do better than you to you or him he will like get sooo mad. He would barely be able to keep it together idk and like say things that would be unimaginable for normal pedro. (idk like just imagining him yelling or being like pissy and talking back to paparazzi or smothing is just whhwiwjwbwjwowiw to me) but its like sweet af, because it shows how much he cares about you. and that u are everything to him and whateverrrrr 🥺

idea ig idk

hm i will be back !!!! 😌 with more hc!! because this man had taken over me heh 😞

-thankful anon again as always still greatful for marked universe, m/gn content and the new fluffy fic that included oscar and the edibles ooohhhh so cute i melted !!!!!

I love where your head is at. Veered left with this one, hope it went vaguely where you were hoping. Thank you for the rec! :) Come back anytime. piss yellow range rover (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked.” apparently no one comments on this app anymore but they are my favorite so please drop a line!!

tw: gay slur in the middle. trans character, trans writer.

summary: baby's first homophobia

————————————————————————

You’re surprised it took so long, really.

A full month after Pedro’s Tonight Show interview goes viral. After his SNL debut, the following week he spends holed up recovering, his begrudging return to LA for Mando press, and your reunion in the LAX Arrivals driveway two weeks later. Four full weeks— long enough that it no longer gripped teeth into the front of your mind.

Long enough that your guard was down.

Until, of course, some asshole decided he needed to be tastefully homophobic before his morning cup of coffee.

You were midway through your LA morning routine: parting with Pedro in the parking lot of the strip mall that housed his personal trainer, and timing your long run around the surrounding area with the duration of his session, such that you were back to pick up a 2-drink mobile order at Starbucks by the time he emerged.

Your very normal, palatable oat latte was balanced atop his stomach-turning 6 black espresso shots, as you watched Pedro round the corner through the window.

Sweat is beading at his temple, but he is all smiles as he trades you a kiss for his plastic cup.

It still feels like a novelty. Neither of you are usually PDA people, but the sudden lack of secrecy has brought on a second wave of the honeymoon phase. You can just do things like this, now— kiss in Starbucks or hold hands at restaurants or be seen grocery shopping together. You don’t have to take separate Ubers to the same place on date nights.

The sun is shining, your iced latte was made right, your workout is over. There is a whole day in front of you, and a handsome man beside you. A man who holds the Starbucks door for both you and the woman pushing a stroller inside— but only reaches for your hand after.

Things are actually really, really good.

Until you step off the curb:

“That is not the way. Fuckin’ fags.”

Crazy how quickly some guy sipping a green goddamn smoothie can ruin your peace. Two guys, actually, snickering to each other as they unlock their car.

Beside you, Pedro goes incredibly still. He drops your hand.

“What did you just say?”

His friend, chewing on his straw, grins as your stomach turns. A shit-eating grin. “At least it’s kinda straight, right? Dude’s got a pussy.”

They erupt into laughter.

White noise buzzes in your ear; your cheeks flush. “Come on.”

You break away, towards the car, but his feet are rooted to the ground. “Pedro. Come on.”

They are still laughing as they duck behind the tinted windows of a piss yellow Land Rover. Laughing as they close the door.

Laughing as five and a half shots of espresso splatter across their black-tinted windshield, streaking in brown rivulets down the yellow hood.

Pedro turns, finally, and stalks quickly across the lot. You have to jog to keep up. Behind you, the assholes are yelling profanities, but you don’t hear a car door open. Cowards.

The moment he settles into the drivers seat, Pedro pounds a fist on the dashboard. Hard. His fingers curl into a tight grip around the steering wheel, which he clutches like a lifeline as he draws in a handful of ragged breaths.

You can only watch from the passenger seat. Try and ignore the fact that he won’t look at you as he starts the engine and peels out of the lot.

The drive to the Hills is dead silent. Even the radio can read the room.

Silence acts as a breeding ground for your racing thoughts, which multiply like hatching mosquitos. Your ears are still ringing. Buzzing.

It’s your fault— this is a fact. This was his biggest fear, wasn’t it? The backlash? This didn’t happen before he came out. (Before you forced him to come out, though he swears that wasn’t the case. You’d just finally, maybe begun to believe it, after a month. Or not.)

This happened to you, sure. Less so in New York, or LA. It’s almost funny, that you apparently stumbled across two of the only straight people in LA this morning. Shitty people live everywhere.

You’d both disabled the comments section of your instagram for a few days, but by and large, the feedback had been overwhelmingly positive. Until today. It’s different hearing it face-to-face.

Pedro is halfway into the house before you realize you’re home. Slowly unbuckling, you debate leaving the iced latte in the cupholder; the thought of it turns your stomach.

As you greet the dogs by the door, a distracted ‘hello,’ you watch him slip out to the condo balcony. He is clutching a pack of Spirits in a clenched fist.

What are you supposed to do? There is nothing you can do, besides apologize. You pace between the kitchen and living room, chewing on your cuticles, eyes closed. The sweat from your run has now cooled uncomfortably on your skin. An apology won’t be enough, but you don’t have a solution. You can’t take it back. He can’t come un-out.

The balcony door slides open, and Pedro is still silent as he shuffles to the kitchen. He pours a glass of water— out of habit, you assume. Though you never mind, he always washes the taste of tobacco away, after he smokes. Refuses to kiss you until after he’s cleansed his mouth, lest he leave any trace of stale smoke on your lips.

Before you can really register, he has crossed into the living room, and pressed his lips to your own.

He kisses you softly, and then moves to your forehead, eyebrow, temple, along your jaw. Doesn’t go as far as your neck, which he knows you are sensitive to— these kisses are not foreplay. They’re too light, too quiet. Your eyes flutter closed.

Pedro’s chin hooks over the top of your head. His arms wrap around your shoulders. Your cheek presses against the base of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he says, before weakly clearing his throat. “I don’t know why I did that. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Why are you sorry?” You pick your head up. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You… handled that so well, querido. I lost my shit. I have never gotten physical like that before, I don’t know what came over me. I’m not violent. They were just… they can’t say that. It’s not right.”

It is your turn to reach up, place a kiss on the angle of his jaw. “You are not violent. You did not lose your shit.”

“It was a perfectly good coffee,” he pouts.

“We can get another,” you placate, “but I can’t get another you. People are always gonna say shit. It’s kinda nice to have something so good, it makes people mad.”

Pedro chuckles, weakly. “Yeah. I guess.”

“If it’s easier to lay off for a bit, though—“

“Lay off?” His brow furrows.

You rub a hand up and down his arm, lightly. “The PDA, doing public stuff, I dunno. I don’t want you to—“

“Are you joking?” You are given a look of sheer disbelief. “Jesus, no. Isn’t that what they want? You want them to win?”

“It’s not a competition, Pedge. I want you to be safe, and comfortable.”

“Fuck that!” His exclamation is loud enough to startle Edgar, whose collar jingles as he jumps grumpily off the couch. “I love you. We went through too much shit, to not be able to hold your hand outside a fucking Starbucks.”

Pedro’s hair is a little tousled, cheeks a little flushed. He’s maybe never looked more attractive to you.

“Okay?”

You exhale. “Of course.”

There is a pause, as the morning settles back around you. The sun is still shining, your workouts are still behind you. Plenty of time in the day to walk to a different Starbucks, for another round of drinks. Maybe you’ll hold hands on the way there. You can, if you want to.

Pedro tugs on the collar of his white t-shirt. He grimaces. “Can we shower, though? I think I smell like the ocean.”

You don’t mind.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller

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