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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 months

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Playing Pretend (Part 6)

Alcohol does wonders at lowering inhibitions.

Roy Kent x Reader

1.4k words

Warnings: Language, alcohol, drunkenness, pining, maybe some angst?, Roy being a pretty darn good guy

Series Masterlist

Yet another one of Jim’s cousins walked away after asking for selfie with Roy Kent. He was a bit surprised it hadn’t gotten around the drawing room yet that he’d politely declined each and every time, but, considering how sloshed most people were at the unofficial “rehearsal dinner after-party”, it was almost understandable.

He tightened his grip on your waist as he watched you take another shot. You smiled sloppily at him, adoration in your eyes, looking more relaxed than you’d been all weekend. Feeling a bit more than tipsy himself, Roy returned your grin and attached his mouth to yours, the alcohol in his system giving him just enough audacity to let his tongue skim your bottom lip for a fraction of a second.

Between the alcohol and the feeling of Roy’s tongue, you were suddenly feeling dizzy. The moment you pulled back from the kiss, he could see it. Immediately, his hand was on your cheek, warm and protective.

“Wanna go outside? Get some air?”

“Yes. Yeah.”

The next thing you knew, Roy was pulling you to your feet and holding you tight around the waist. Still feeling quite jovial despite your spinning head, you grabbed the whiskey bottle the two of you had been sharing, eliciting a chuckle from Roy, who kissed the top of your head as he muttered, “You are going to feel like shit in the morning, you muppet.”

The sounds of drunken laughter began to fade as the two of you walked outside, heading back to the secluded bench you’d shared the night before. You nestled close to Roy as he wrapped an arm around you and took the whiskey from your hand, helping himself to a generous swig. He tilted his head back with a sigh.

“So many fucking stars,” he breathed, tracing circles on your arm. “You never see this many in the city.”

You took a small sip from the bottle, shivering as it travelled deliciously down your throat. “Yeah, but you’re my favorite star.”

Roy shook his head and laughed. “Fuck, you’re really sloshed, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you simply stared at Roy. Roy Kent. Football star. Your childhood friend. Your best friend’s big brother. Your favorite person in the world. Your lifelong crush. Your fake boyfriend. Your absolute savior this weekend. Probably the love of your life.

“You know,” you started slowly. “I cried for about a month straight when you left for Sunderland. My mum says I was absolutely inconsolable.”

The snort Roy emitted was full of affection. “You were, what, four? What the fuck did you know?”

“I knew you were my Roy. You were the person I adored most in the world. And you were gone.” You held his gaze steadily as you took another nip. A thoughtful smile played on your lips. “Roy Kent. First boy to break my heart. And you didn’t even know it.”

Roy shifted his body to face you properly, his own heart cracking a bit at the memory of hugging you goodbye the night before he left, at the special dinner your mothers had made for him as a sendoff, and of every goodbye he’d said to you over the years as he came home for visits, each goodbye harder than the last. “I’d never break your heart.” His gruff voice was barely above a whisper. “Not on purpose, anyway.”

You leaned your forehead to his, nodding. “I know, Roy. I know.”

The two of you sat in the dark, holding each other, losing track of time, neither of you wanting to move and break the spell you were under. The only sounds in the night were leaves rustling in the light breeze and the faint sounds of people partying and the shuddering breaths that filled the incredibly small space between the two of you as you both tried to figure out what to say next.

Roy’s mind was racing as if it were dribbling a ball down the pitch with only seconds left in stoppage time. He should tell you. He was definitely feeling brave enough, thanks to that nearly empty bottle in your hands. The setting was romantic enough- private and dark, lit by a full moon and twinkling stars, your own little fantasy world. And the way you were looking at him told Roy that you were feeling the same urge to close the space between your mouths.

The sound of the bottle crashing to the ground caused both of you to jump.

“Fuck,” you hissed, staring down at the glass on the ground, broken as the moment the two of you had been sharing. You bent down and started to try picking up the jagged pieces, but Roy grabbed your wrist.

“Gonna fucking stab yourself,” he mumbled, rising to his feet, and tugging you up with him. “C’mon. Let’s head upstairs, you’ll need your sleep for tomorrow.” His hand slipped into yours and led you back into the house, avoiding the gazes of those still partying in the drawing room.

In the hall, he wrapped an arm around you to help you walk steady, lovingly shushing your giggles as the two of you walked by closed doors until you finally arrived at your room.

Once the door was closed firmly behind him, Roy looked at you. You were standing far too close, looking far too beautiful, gazing at him with far too much affection. He gulped, trying to remember the last time a woman made him so nervous. The answer was, of course, you. It was always you.

“Alright there?” he asked, trying to keep his cool, wondering where all that liquid courage of his had gone.

You nodded wordlessly, tugging him by the hand towards the bed. Instinctively, he followed your lead and sat down, his mind swimming with nervousness and excitement, the way it often did before an important match. Before he could say anything, before he could ask what was up with that look in your eye, you leaned forward and crashed your lips into his.

Without a second thought, he brought a hand to the back of your neck, his heart exploding with the realization that you were kissing him, and no one was watching, you were kissing him just because, for whatever glorious reason, you wanted to. This is real, he stupidly thought as your tongue unabashedly glided across his lips, amplifying the taste of whiskey on his own mouth.

The flavor also reminded him that if he was giddy and tipsy, you were pretty sloshed. And that wasn’t how he wanted to do this. Not after all these years of pining and waiting.

Despite every instinct telling him otherwise and the voices in his head screaming at him for being an idiot, Roy pulled back, offering you a small, sad smile. He wanted you more than he’d ever wanted anything in his miserable life. But he wanted to do things right. He wanted to give you the mushy confession of love you deserved, the one he’d been thinking about and writing and rewriting since he was a young man. He wanted to take you out on a real date, one that would surely lead to a second and third date. And most of all, he wanted you to remember everything in the morning.

“We… should to go sleep,” he heard himself whisper, his hand still gripping the back of your neck, his thumb absently stroking your skin. “Big fucking day tomorrow.”

If it weren’t for his inner turmoil, Roy would’ve thought your drunken pout was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “But… I want…”

He nodded and pressed a love-filled kiss to your forehead. “I know. Let’s see if you still want all that when you’re sober, hmm?” He grabbed your pyjamas that sat folded neatly on the bed and thrust them into your hands. “Bathroom, alright?”

With the huffed obedience of a child, you took the clothes and went into the bathroom. Once your dress was on the floor and your pyjamas were on, you returned to the room, where Roy was already on his side of the bed, a look of nervousness in his eye, something you weren’t used to seeing.

“Alright there?”

Stifling a yawn, you nodded and slid into bed beside him, chucking aside any awkwardness to snuggle close to him. After turning off the light, Roy allowed himself the pleasure of wrapping an arm around you, pulling you into a spooning position and relishing the feeling of your body pressed against his.

Tomorrow he’d go back to being fake boyfriend. Tomorrow he’d get the nerve to tell you how he felt. Tomorrow he’d take a chance and find out if he was the biggest idiot in the world.

But for now, he let himself hold you tight, listening to the soft sounds of your breathing as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

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

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lunar-years · 1 year

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I am in 100% agreement on your "unpopular opinion" about Ted and Jamie. The panic attacks made it seem like there is some connection between Ted Witnessing Bad Fathering from James and it making him feel shit about his own dad and also about how he parents Henry, but none of that extends to Ted and Jamie actually having a father/son dynamic or Ted even seeming to like Jamie any more than anyone else. It also doesn't extend to Ted helping Jamie with his father in any way. The best thing Ted did for Jamie was force Roy to connect with him and then he's basically left them to it, handed Jamie off to Roy. There is very little to imply that Ted and Jamie are close. Maybe people WANT them to be closer, want them to hug and spend time together and talk about big things, but the fact is, that isn't actually how they are. Jamie barely feels comfortable speaking to Ted in general let alone Ted being his go-to person. They have no real relationship to speak of beyond the very general coaching one and sometimes the stuff I see people say is... wild to me. Ted has never even hugged Jamie - Ted in fact never hugs any of the players, only the other coaches. I'm told this may be a Midwestern thing, that it's not appropriate for coaches to touch players in the USA, but that's not how it is in English football.

With the Jamie/Jamie paper, I think that Ted and Beard were trying to compliment Jamie. Reward him for being right about Zava or something. Like hey, you're our star, you took all that with good grace. Little treat for you, Jamie. We wanna make you feel a bit special. But even in doing that, what they think is nice, it's a complete and fundamental misread of who he is. They don't see him. And he shouldn't have had to MAKE them see him, with that tactic at the end of 3.07. That was not his job. They should have known the correct way to use their best player in this tactic. But they either thought he wouldn't want to do it, or didn't think he could do it? All of it leads to the coaches still not really getting Jamie.

I mean, I do think there are interesting threads between Jamie & Ted (that I would like to see resolved in s3, the panic attack connection being one of them), and I would argue that Ted did play an imperative role in shifting Jamie's perspectives in s1 and that he later had a massive impact by allowing him to come back to Richmond when Jamie really needed someone to believe that he could be better. So I do think Jamie values & respects Ted and vis versa, I just don't think they have a father/son relationship or really anything beyond coach/player (as you say, I think Ted is far from Jamie's go-to person, and that's perfectly okay!)

I feel a lot of fans are passionate about assigning Jamie a pseudo-father because they know his own dad is such an utter shit, when in my opinion there's not actually a character on the show who fits that role for Jamie. Also...it's not even a role Jamie needs or necessarily even wants filled at this stage in his life? He has a lot of people who care about him and a big and important found family; he doesn't need a father-figure to be a complete or healed person, and I actually think that's a fundamental part of his arc.

Also, my hot take is that the relationship a lot of people want Jamie to have with Ted is the one Nate actually did have with him. It's just that less people care about Nate, so.

All that said, it's also fandom and if people want Ted & Jamie to have a father/son relationship (and clearly a lot of people do) I'm not faulting them for it. Like go & run free with your popular head-canons! (I personally just don't think there's any basis for it in canon.)

As for the Jamie/Jamie paper...I think the most generous read is that the coaches wanted Jamie to look at himself differently and play around with it on his own, with the expectation that he would come to conclusions similar to what he actually did on the show; while the least generous read is that none of the coaches understand who he is in the slightest or how far he's come and just thought he was gonna throw a huge fit if they didn't keep him up front. Probably the reality is something in between (I mean, I assume Roy contributed to coming up with the pairings, and I do think Roy gets Jamie. But I also agree there is a big gap in understanding in how Beard & Ted view him, and they aren't really seeing him right now in a lot of ways.)

I am gonna give Ted a pass on the hugging thing because yeah, I think that can be chalked up to different coaching styles and differing American versus English sports culture. You can take the man out of Kansas but--

#basically I agree with a lot of your points wholeheartedly anon but I also think its a bit of a harsh read on Ted lol #out of the three coaches I think Beard is the one who gets Jamie the least. by far. (and is sorta a dick about it too)#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #jamie tartt #ch: ted lasso #asks #long post #sorry the ask was long to begin with and then I sure piled on ahah

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nonbinary-eddie-munson · 1 year

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I was thinking about Steve and his lack of canonical backstory and my mind went to the book Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents (a great read if you don't have the best relationship with your parents) and how that could apply to Steve and his totally real parents who definitely exist. Here part of it, i hope you like it

Steve Harrington had been a bit of a sickly child, nothing overly serious but colds and flus that would have any other child sick for only a few days would have Steve down for a week.

Secretly the days Steve had to stay home sick from school were his favorite because that meant his mom or dad would take off work and spend the whole day with him! The times his dad would stay home with him he would have to stay in bed all day while his dad worked from the home office periodically coming up to check on him and bring him soup and if he was lucky even read him a book!

Steve’s favorite though was when his mom would stay home from work to take care of him. His mom would wrap him up in a blanket on the couch and they would cuddle and watch cartoons. At lunch time she would cook him soup and grilled cheese (always cut diagonally) while he sat on a stool at the kitchen island watching enraptured as she sang along to her Roy Orbison records. His parents were both so busy at work it often felt that the only times he really got attention from them was when he was sick so if he played up how sick he was in order to get to spend just one more day at home with them, could anyone really blame him?

Turns out yes. Yes they could. The days of afternoon cartoons and cuddles on the couch. Of diagonal grilled cheeses and his mom belting out Blue Lagoon and Leah in the kitchen ended abruptly and painfully his 6th grade year. Flu season came around and Steve had been sick for three days already. Sure 11 was getting a little old to cuddle with is mom on the couch, Tommy would definitely make fun of him for it if he knew. But the days he was sick were really the only times his mom openly showed him affection so he reveled in the love and attention of his parents on those rare occasions.

Steve had just woken up, still a bit feverish and his throat scratchy and slowly walked down the stairs his comforter wrapped around his shoulders and trailing on the floor. He found his mother in the kitchen hurriedly cooking breakfast, she looked him over quickly before giving an annoyed huff and turning back to the stove.

“I can’t stay home with you today Steven, the office is swamped with work so I need to go in.” She said briskly, “ I made you some oat meal, so make sure to eat before you go back to bed.”

“Oh.. Okay. Thank you mom” Steve replied unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. At his reply his mother turned from the stove a stern look on her face.

“Honestly Steven I don’t understand why you can’t be more like the other children and I don’t have the time to give in to your manipulations and stay home.”

Shocked at the coldness of his mother’s words Steve took an involuntary step back, a quiet whine leaving the back of his throat.

“There you go again with your drama, trying to make me feel bad” his mother snapped “now eat and go back to bed I have to get to work” she removed the small pot from the burner and brushed past him making her way to the front door.

“I’ll see you when I’m home from work and if you’re not feeling better we’ll take you to the doctor again maybe he can figure out what’s wrong with you.” With that she was gone and so was Steve’s childhood. At least, that’s what it felt like.

The next morning despite still feeling awful Steve got up, dug some cold medicine out of the cabinet and forced himself to school, telling his mom he felt good enough to go. Steve didn’t want to be a bother, he didn’t want to manipulate his parents into staying home from work. So after that when he got sick again, sick enough to warrant staying home from school Steve would tell his parents he was fine on his own and wave them off to work. His mom would always call at lunch to make sure he was okay, but eventually even that stopped. Eventually Steve stopped telling them he was sick at all. After all he didn’t want to be manipulative like his mom said he was. He didn’t want to trick them into caring about him.

And that was just the thing, when he was little his mom would tell him how much he was wanted. How she had wanted a baby for years and had almost given up when she finally got pregnant with Steve, her little miracle. His childhood had been a happy one, his father constantly had a camera out taking pictures for the photo books his mom painstakingly put together. It had been filled with birthday parties and t-ball games and his mother singing and dancing in the kitchen. Sure his parents were busy but they had made time for him. At least they used to, when he was still cute and little and his parents coworkers were still impressed by stories of his little league home run hits and pictures of his round baby face missing two front teeth.

Because that was the thing about babies. Eventually they stopped being small and cute. Eventually they grew up. Eventually their parents stopped caring.

Steve tried his best to get them to keep caring, he signed up for every sport he could fit into his schedule and for awhile that was enough. As long as he excelled at sports it was enough to keep his parents attention. Sure as he got older his parents were around less and less, but they still managed to make most of his games. But like everything else eventually even that wasn’t enough and by his sophomore year of high school Steve stopped caring if they were even there. Or at least he told himself he did.

Steve’s parents were barely home, his father constantly traveling for work after he received a promotion, his mother going along on the trips despite the work she would miss after Steve’s father had come back from a work trip with lipstick on his collar for the third time. It was fine though, his parents not coming to his games meant he didn’t have to listen to his father pick apart his swimming form, or nag at him about how “Alex Carver wouldn’t of missed that shot” despite the fact that Steve had scored most of the points that game and even though he missed his last shot they had still won by well over 20 points so what was the big deal?

School and his grades were a whole other battle. When he had started high school Steve tried his best to get straight A’s he really did. He couldn’t help that the words and numbers on his homework pages and the black board floated around, but he did his best to get his work done and correct anyways.

Steve worked as hard as he could going to the library in his free period, asking the teachers for help when he didn’t understand something (which was often but for the most part his teachers were patient with him, he was an up and coming star on both the basketball and swim teams after all) and ended his freshman year with B’s in all his classes except for history and gym both of which he had gotten an A in! He had been so proud of himself and thought his parent would be too. Instead Steve’s father had screamed at him over his B’s, told Steve “he couldn’t believe he was raising such an idiot”.

That was the last straw for Steve really. He tried as hard as he could and it was never enough. No matter what he did, he was too slow, too dumb, too manipulative for his parents to give a shit about him. And if his parents didn’t give a shit why should he?

Steve stopped trying so hard to keep his grades up, only doing the bare minimum to keep his grades high enough so he wouldn’t get kicked from the basketball or swim team. He started throwing parties every weekend, trying to bring some noise into the cold lifeless house his parents barely bothered to come home to anymore.

By the end of his Sophomore year Steve had cemented his title of “King”. Sure his parents didn’t give a shit but the other kids at school worshiped him now, he had teachers excusing assignments he didn’t bother doing because word around the school was Steve was going to be the next Captain of the Basketball team and he had already been made Co-Captain of the swim team despite only being a sophomore. He was the King of Hawkins high, every guy wanted to be his friend, every girl was practically lining up to date him and Steve reveled in it, at least he did for a little while.

If you made it this far thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you guys think! My brain already has ideas for character studies for Argyle, Nancy and Jonathan that I was thinking of writing also.

#steve harrington #Stranger Things #steve harrington back story #anyways its a real thing that some parents feel uncomfortable showing their child affection unless they are sick/ vulnerable #as well as that some parents will think of their kids as being manipulative when really all they are asking for is affection #steve harrington character study

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omegaplus · 2 years

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# 4,079

Cheapo’s (Mineola), 2022.

Well, it didn’t take long for Mr. Cheapo himself to issue those June coupons. Two weeks ago I had one in May for 20% off everything and it helped. After my visit to Sunday Records, my visit to Commack’s Cheapo’s became my second most-expensive visit. Now I had the urge to visit the other location while the coupon was still good. There’s no quit in me or my wallet.

It’s the halfway mark in June and also my record-store tour. I have five more stops to go before I call it quits for the year. Summer’s here for long highway rides to essential places, sweating and sitting in traffic under the hot sticky sun while your car radio is keeping you occupied with the tunes of yesteryear. That’s what my trips were and are still made of, and that’s called ‘making the best of it’.

No traffic on the Long Island Expressway. No traffic on the Northern State Parkway. Just a few turns and I’m here before 3PM. This time around, Mr. Cheapo himself (his real name is Stu) was in the store. There were three other helpers of his constantly running around bagging new arrivals, re-pricing titles, and sorting out their selections. It took me a good five minutes to walk around and get a feel of where I would attack. The best part? No one was playing Kate Bush on the overhead. That made my visit all the difference.

The first destination is in the back of the store where all of the old jazz, soul, and R&B vinyl bins are. Always. It’s a great area in the store where you can simply hide out of sight and stay with yourself as you focus on the hunt. The first thing I look for thumbing through the jazz section is Roy Ayers. To this day, I only seen Everybody Loves The Sunshine once and I’ve yet to come across a copy of A Tear To A Smile. Snake eyes on both of them. But, there’s still plenty of more jazz / fusion artists I’ve yet to discover and records to own. There’s no shortage of used George Benson records, including a $25.00 copy of Erotic Moods. The usual suspects of the (Hubert & Ronnie) Laws brothers, David Sanborn, Earl Klugh, Billy Cobham and more all attended the bins; always on time, attentive and stay for the entire time. And, if you’ve followed Vinyl Frontier and other crate-digging pages for some time, you know records like Rasa’s Everything You See Is Me are a staple in every vinyl collector and producer’s staple. It’s the second time I’ve seen it, and for $3.00, why not? Now how many more times am I going to run into Herbie Mann’s Push Push in my lifetime?

At the back corner of the store and above the alphabetized used records was the showcase of cassettes locked up behind the sliding plexi-glass. His two locations are the only stores on the island that does this. I never understood how Cheapo’s ubiquitous and more expensive CDs were not secured while the less-than-500 cassettes he’s selling for no more than $5.00 each were locked up. It sure takes a lot to protect that $14.00 Billie Eilish tape that’s sitting there. It only took me five minutes to find almost nothing until I finally found Madonna’s Immaculate Collection. Don’t you fucking judge me. It’s not so much a piece of my Atari childhood, but it’s one of a handful of cassettes my younger bro- destroyed because single digits don’t know the value of things. A special sight to behold was a rare Skinny Puppy VIVIsectVI tape sitting pretty for $9.00.

I gave the vinyl searches a break and noticed a couple of shelves housing 12” techno / dance singles. Pass. I see two other shelves of various other electronic titles. Look who’s going to keep that industrial quotient up by snatching VNV Nation, Die Krupps, and a Cyberaktif CD? A few feet over to the right and there’s a small area of used metal and hardcore discs. It’s about time I finally introduce Bad Brains in my collection. I grab another essential item on my want list: Indecision’s Release The Cure. Three down, two more to go. What else was sitting there? Les Savy Fav’s Inches. Years after the fact and the Brooklyn goth girl still has a lingering effect on me. I discovered -Fav through her via “Hold On To Your Genre”. Now, it’s time to see if that album sounds mostly like it.

The search continues through the used CD columns again starting with the letter ‘A’. It was a breeze flying right through them as there were dividers for dedicated artists I didn’t care for. Once again I bolstered my alternative collection by finding two albums by Live and Hole’s Live Through This only just because. There were no shortage of everything Henry Rollins and even a couple of strays in Bjork, Savages, and Dead Kennedys. One disc, The Posies Dear 23, was one I originally passed up but decided to take back because we all have to start somewhere. And there they were: four Sonic Youth discs all grouped together. Three of them: Experimental Trash, Jet Set, And No Star, Washing Machine, and Daydream Nation were the very ones I purchased from Cheapo’s Commack location that Summer before entering my community college era. Just a little behind was Skinny Puppy’s Too Dark Park, one of the initial four albums I purchased with those Sonic Youth discs from the same visit. What an anniversary moment did I just experience?

12” hip-hop / rap singles? Nothing. Hardcore and punk 45’s? Zero. Once again my fingers found themselves rifling through the 7” singles section. $1.99 all un-priced paper sleeves and $2.99 for picture sleeves unless otherwise. You’ll see below a few components of my Atari childhood I’d take home with me. But while -I was thumbing through them, some of those label paper sleeves started to look pretty appealing to me. I find orange ones from Roulette, CMYK bullseye sleeves from Capital, and Uni’s swirled sleeve. One after another they kept on going. ABC’s blue and white stripes, RCA’s sunset colors, Atlantic / Atco’s vertical CMY stripes, Kirschner’s rainbow wave…even one from The Wiz, a former electronics giants hat-tipped by former New York Jet and Super Bowl champion Joe Namath whose famous tagline (“nobody beats the Wiz!”) was always delivered with a Southern drawl and a smile. There were at least ten more I picked out solely based on the paper sleeve design; an aesthetic not really touched on in the collectors world. It’s that moment when I knew I have a serious addiction because I couldn’t help myself. I was just buying for the sake of buying regardless of who was on wax. The low sticker prices and nice designs are a dangerous combination of not knowing when to fucking quit. But Stu came over and saw I was having a blast. He came over and asked me if I visited his other location (Commack) recently. Of course I did, Stu. Two weeks ago I spent almost $350.00 there. “Oh, you’re fine” Stu said assuring me I would be taken care of.

Now that I went crazy over choosing my 45′s, I decided to give the vinyl sections one final look. The Rolling Stone’s Their Satanic Majesties Request was on my mind once again. It was one of my dad’s records before selling that along with the entire collection for $50.00. The least expensive copy they had - the lenticular version - sold for $55.00, which meant I had to pay more for his mistake. The other record I remember of his, Kiss’ Rock ‘N Roll Over, was sold beaten and bruised for $35.00, but a newly-sealed re-issue was stickered for...$25.00? I shook my head and decided to go for them both after my entire record store tour was over.

I just about had it for the day. Before cashing it all in, I asked one of the guys to get the keys for the cassette cabinets and I had him fetch me the Madonna tape. A quick look to my right and I took two other tapes from Jackie “The Joke Man” Martling. A Mineola native, it was only fitting for a record store in the same town as his to carry them. He was responsible for putting the Long Island comedy scene on the map, and as we all know, was Howard Stern’s former joke writer. Those heave-haws, chuckles, wheezes, and guffaws were heard to be believed.

Both of us head back to the front counter to count me out and - oh, shoot - I almost forgot to look through the used hip-hop CD section. Stu taught the new guy to punch everything in on the register, so that bought me only five more minutes time to quickly peruse the upper four racks on the wall near the register. Nas’ Life Is Good was up for grabs and both Craig Mack and Salt-N-Pepa were my golden-era acquisitions. One final pick I was glossing over was The Notorious B.I.G.’s legendary album Ready To Die. My Brentwood-era friend and across-the-street neighbor Reggie made me a tape copy an I kept it all this time. I was thinking of holding off on getting the CD only because I wanted a real cassette copy (also see The Wu-Tang Clan’s 36 Chambers); the way it was meant to be. I ended up buying it because I can always find the tape later. Now I had it for the day. Seriously. I made it in time before one of the guys gave me a final total.

“OK. That’s $238.92” That’s with the 20% off? Not so fast!

“$199.10″

That’s more like it. A little more than half the load of the Commack location and with a better number out of pocket. Debit card swiped, pinned, and approve. They almost had no bags to give, but they managed to dig out an old one which everything fit perfectly in. They gave me the goods and we thanked each other for facilitating a purchase well done. With two hands, I walk out and took a deep breath. Another purchase crossed off the record-store bucket list. I load up my purchase in the trunk, hop in my vehicle, and go around the block in order to head west on Jericho Turnpike / Route 25. It took me fifteen minutes of baking hot 85* sun and sweat to do. I must’ve done something right. A half-a-mile before reaching the Northern State Parkway, I look to my right. It’s Stu driving his blue Nissan Rogue in the lane next to me. He doesn’t look amused. In his mind he’s thinking about how I drove him fucking crazy because twice I held him back from going home due to my constant searching for one more thing.

There were piles and piles of discs and many records from previous purchases still sitting on my floor, waiting to take up shelf space. I put the Mineola purchase on the floor and start taking them out. Immediately there’s something wrong. Stu’s employees gave me the wrong Tool album. I ended up getting the non-deluxe (stereoscopic) disc version of 10,000 Days. I saw a copy that was falling apart and brought the request to get a new one, thinking they’d give me one brand-new and sealed but nope. Great. $14.00 gone to pot. Looks like I’ll have to leave it to myself to get what I want next time.

Krush Groove: motion picture soundtrack LP

Spyro Gyra: Carnaval LP

David Sanborn: Taking Off LP

Lee Ritenour: Captain Fingers LP

Rasa: Everything You See Is Me LP

Ronnie Laws: Fever LP

Hubert Laws: Say It With Silence LP

Earl Klugh: Living Inside Your Love LP

Billy Cobham: Magic LP

George Benson: Blue Benson LP

Nas: Life Is Good CD

Salt-N-Pepa: Very Necessary CD

Craig Mack: Project: Funk Da World CD

Notorious B.I.G., The: Ready To Die CD

Tool: 10,000 Days (non-deluxe) CD

Live: Four Songs CD

Bjork: Selmasongs CD

Henry Rollins: Big Ugly Mouth CD

Hole: Live Through This CD

Dead Kennedys: Fresh Fruit For Rotting Vegetables CD

Bad Brains: self-titled CD

Posies, The: Dear 23 CD

Les Savy Fav: Inches CD

Savages: Adore Life CD

Die Krupps: Odyssey Of The Mind CD

Peaches: The Teaches Of Peaches CD

VNV Nation: Matter + Form CD

Cyberaktif: Temper CD

Indecision: Release The Cure CD

Dead Kennedys: In God We Trust, Inc. / Plastic Surgery Disasters CD

Live: Mental Jewelry CD

John Cougar Mellencamp: “Paper In Fire” 7”

Bangles: “Hazy Shade Of Winter” 7”

Mike & The Mechanics: “All I Need Is A Miracle” 7”

‘Til Tuesday: “Voices Carry” 7”

Loverboy: “Working For The Weekend” 7”

Glenn Frey: “The Heat Is On” 7”

Fabulous Thunderbirds: “Wrap It Up” 7”

John Cougar Mellencamp: “Small Town” 7”

Jackie ‘The Joke Man’ Martling: Hot Dogs And Donuts CS

Madonna: The Immaculate Collection CS

Jackie ‘The Joke Man’ Martling: Rollin’ With The Punches CS

#personal #Long Island #music #playlists #reviews #mixtapes #comedy #pop #rock #alternative #punk #industrial #electroclash #indie #electronic #jazz #fusion #hip-hop #rap #golden-era #old-school

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rotzaprachim · 2 years

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ok someone literally force me to finish this but ted lasso au with zoya as roy literally the most important thing

trigger warning for... grooming and abuse and everything implied about zoya’s past in the books

[And there’d been the awful part of zoya that sat in the narrow strips of time she sat feeling sorry for herself and blaming the world for her own inertia when Kirigan came calling and told her she was meant for the greatest of things.] And Zoya had been seventeen, and embarrassed to have to ring home every time she needed to have her aunt give the all clear to do fucking anything, and embarrased to have to call in days for holidays her manager had never heard of, and embarrassed to go the pub after practice sessions with only her school ID. She’d been embarrassed until she’d scored the winning goal her first real game and she’d sat, exhausted and elated with an ice pack ace-wrapped to her shins, with the usual soda water and half-glass of maraschino cherries the bartender always gave her as consolation prize to her youth, now slick, smug, joyful nod that she was younger than any of them and could do twice the job of the more senior players on the team.

“My little shining star,” Kirigan had said, pulling her up to stand on the stool at the head of the table so the players could clap and cheer for her under his icy gaze. Zoya smiled inwardly under the team member’s smirks, happy they so clearly hated her. “The best player in this league. Watch how she slams down the way for the rest of you.” And Zoya had been so proud she’d been chosen for something, and done well.

Her first year, Zoya won and won and won. She graced the cover of the Guardian and the Independent and got to be number nine on Seventeen Magazine’s Eighteen under Eighteen, wearing the kind of poofy tulle dress Zoya would never have been caught wearing at the dances she’d skipped off of at school. She won some more. She got offers on offers and Kirigan gave them to her from a stack on his shiny wood desk and she’d known she could never, ever leave the team that made them. She won games. Kirigan took her to events that didn’t ask for her ID anymore and gave her as many tall, skinny glasses of fizzy-sweet champagne as she could drink [without being sick in restrooms where you dried your hands on thick fabric towels.] Kirigan took her to restaurants that printed their menus in French and handed out bread with little metal tongues. When the meal was finished, he paid, smiling, and with a knowing glance at her still-pubescent, train-seven-hours-a-day screaming hunger, walked her right around the block to places cut into the red-brick crevasses of the city where they destroyed platters of pirogi and mutton curry and vegetable biryani, the same grease on both their fingers. Kirigan took her to parties and pronounced her the rising star to save all of football, worldwide, and for the first time the things he said about Zoya felt heavy, but it was a good sort of weight, the kind she’d been young enough to believe her shoulders were wide enough to carry. Kirigan personally handed her the rising tide of presents Zoya thought were gifts, artisanal coffee and avant garde silver journey from designers who’d give anything for her to wear their product in public, and when the little velvet boxes came straight from Kirigan’s hands, Zoya could pretend they were gifts from him. Kirigan picked her up in his shiny black limousine and took her to an event at the top of a skyscraper in the center of the city where on a white leather couch sat a man Kirigan bowed to and called the king of sports. On his right arm was a redhead who Kirigan kissed the hand of and Zoya hated her beyond anyone she’d ever hated. On the elevator down Kirigan told Zoya what she was.

“Not like you,” he said. “My little shining star.”

When the team played away games, they slept four to a room in Premier Inns and ate breakfast bars from Aldi flatpacks. Zoya didn’t mind. She liked, in a way, being the kiddo let indulgently into the adult worlds the other players were in a spectral array dealing with: down payments on posh flats, mother-in-laws, alimony checks. Sex, sex, and more sex. When they played Cardiff halfway through the season, Zoya got a signed letter from Kirigan suggesting it might be inappropriate for her to continue her sleeping arrangements while she was still a minor. She stayed in the Marriot, in her own room, and sat on the surprisingly cold bed sheets holding her phone to call home and feeling somehow like she shouldn’t. Like her aunt would be angry with her, for her good fortune, for the endless rivers of milk and honey flowing so steadily from Zoya’s hard work. So she didn’t call home that time, just like she didn’t wear her awkward home-knit jumpers and sale-bin clothing, just like she cut her home visits to the High Holidays and stayed up playing the rest of the year. Her aunt told her she must be busy, that she loved her always, that she understood.

Zoya slammed shut her phone. She ordered ludicrously expensive tomato soup on Kirigan’s tab, to see if she could. She wandered the city at night on her own, looping up from the harbour to the football stadium that had a mast stuck to the side of it, pretending to be a boat. There was a crowd in a pub around there, singing in a language that she could not understand but knew was about the football playing on the television and because it was about football it was her language, and she could. They stood with their arms around each other, singing, and Zoya walked down to the river and felt all the things she felt terrible for feeling, when her life was this good.

She knew, then. The trouble was that Zoya knew. The whole fucking time, she knew. She was not a person for whom good things ever lasted.

The next morning Zoya did not eat the flat-packed breakfast bars. She had the croissants and sliced pineapple and little glass jars of yogurt with foil lids that room service sent up. She showered and tied up her hair in a perfect swishy ponytail and when she came downstairs packed and ready Kirigan was waiting for her. He had reception call them a car, and on the way to the stadium Zoya’s stomache felt oddly swishy.

She won. She almost laughed, afterwards. The idea that do anything else was ridiculous. It was what she had been made to do.

----

He didn’t fuck her till she was twenty five and on a six-year loss streak. That one didn’t come out until the court hearings, and after she said it, Zoya felt a dirtiness unlike anything she’d ever felt before, rising up out of the cut marble floor and coating every inch of her impeccable Armani suit.

#i need a tag for super rough drafts #like i need to prove they exist to myself more than i need anyone to read them #the ted lasso au #i just NEED the story about zoya petering out from teenage wunderkind who she was never meant to be into thirty something leader #like i need it so bad. also zoya x genya as roy keeley. genya as keeley it is SO important

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mitchbeck · 5 months

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#AHL #AmericanHockeyLeague #CoachellaValleyFirebirds #HartfordWolfPack #LouisDomingue #NewYorkRangers #Wilkes-Barre/ScrantonPenguins #XLCenter

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jvstheworld · 6 months

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My Ted Lasso Re-watch: S1E10 (part 1)

The Hope That Kills You

Nate arrives before everyone else, but something is off. Will is here (dun dun dun). Nah, Will is a sweetie, though they could have come up with a better last name for him than Kitman. His name is Will Kitman.... Guys, come on.

Nate got promoted! Good thing that Rebecca took his hostility well. He was so disarmed by her knowing his name that he forgot about what was going on.

The fact the Rebecca wants to be a part of this and is just as excited as the rest of the team shows how much she has grown to care for them, even while trying to destroy them.

The whole team being there to celebrate Nate's promotion shows how much they care for him now. But it also makes Nate's later betrayal hurt even more.

They even made him his own special box with a brand new whistle in it, just for him.

Okay, the jab at Colin hits different after season 3. And Nate picks him to be his verbal punching bag early on. I get that Colin used to bully him, but it stops being banter like it is now, and becomes more vengeful later in season 2.

Mr Muscle is a brand of cleaner in the UK.

Roy knowing his time is soon up wants Ted to find a replacement Captain for him. But Ted being, well... Ted isn't going to make things easy for him. I love their little back and forth, but Beard's reactions are the best part. Really, Ted plans on playing Roy at some point during their final match, so he has to stay as captain until after then.

Roy loves Ted, even if he won't admit it. Beard's 'He loves you' was adorable.

The last match of this season is against Manchester City, their soon to be white whale. They won't best them until 'Mom City' in season 3.

Yeah, I have no comment on how American football deals with all their shit teams, since I know nothing about sport. Hell, I don't even like European football, but I will watch the hell out of this show.

Don't blow whistles inside, that shit hurts ears. Why does Nate keep doing that?

Dani calling Jamie amigo. Still wants to see everyone as friends. Don't change Dani.

Jamie reverting back to being a pick. Making fun of the team, especially Roy and Ted. Yet Ted just smiles and takes the insults.

'Instant caramel'. He means karma but it's Jamie so he will get it wrong, not that he cares.

Isaac throwing the chair is perfect. He's the new captain now. Everyone but Roy flinches when he throws it, because Roy has probably done that many times himself. But it's Isaac's 'oops, innit?' that makes it perfect. It gets Roy's seal of approval.

Okay, the cigarette thing. Yes, in the UK people call them a word that is also used a slur words gay people. I fucking hate that word and will never use it. The longer form of the slur also shares it's name with a type of food. Never eaten it, never will. And I hate that word too.

Oh look, Baz is trying to be nice, insulting still but at least he is trying.

#ted lasso #coach beard #roy kent #nathan shelley #ted lasso rewatch #tv show thoughts

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hanjeongrp · 11 months

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Welcome to Hanjeong, Princess Koralia. You are quite the merfolk. At about 100, you have quite a claim being a merfolk royal.

Enjoy paradise.

OOC:

Name/Alias: dee (again)

Pronouns: she/her

Age: old

Timezone: est

IC:

Biography Information:

OC Name: koralia (you will die) but goes by bora

FC: dami, lee yubin (dreamcatcher)

Species: mermaid

Occupation: surfing instructor

Residence: south side

Gender: femme

Pronouns: she/her

Age: a young 100 or so

Claim(s): mermaid royal

you learn things quickly about the world if you swim around in it long enough. they tell you to never meet your hero’s but sometimes its inevitable. koralia never really had a choice. royal was a mantel she wore about her shoulders for as long as she could remember. it came with expectations, rules and decorum. she was raised to know how to sit, when to eat, the proper way to chastise someone with nothing more than a soft change of tone. it never felt right, never felt like a role she was born to play, but her father was so proud of his title, and as a youngling she had been to. to a child parents are everything. the moral compass by which they learn. the examples for how they will live, love and treat others. her father had always set sparkling examples at home of how a man should love a woman, how he should love his daughter and extended family. he taught her about honor and reputation and how everything they did was supposed to be a reflection of all the great people who come before them. so she’d had a hero who was six foot two from crown to fin with her eyes and a laugh she sometimes thought she could hear in her own. koralia had been proud to have a dad like that.

she didn’t know it was all built on lies.

she was grown the year her father went missing, though missing might be too strong a description. they all knew where he had gone. that he had slipped out of the ocean serf and donned the appearance of a regular man. her mother had always told her his curiosity would be the death of him someday. she wasn’t far off the mark, though the victim of his curiosity was never going to be himself. things were never the same after his return. silence gave way to paranoid rage and all too soon the perfect vision she’d known her whole life was suddenly toppling down around her shoulders. her parents separated. her father lived in shame, his reputation tarnished beyond repair. her mother held too much resentment in her heart to be worried about her sole child. as one year rolled into the next and the current shifted marking the pass of another year the rumors began.

a child. helf-mermaid, half-human. a child.

her mother was always a dramatic thing. the smallest slight was enough to send her into a frenzy that could last for days. her father’s curiosity was going to be the death of him, so why did it take her mother instead? she didn’t go by koralia anymore, it was too clunky, too old. it sounded wrong on the lips of everyone around her when her mother was the last person to say it. even her cousin, the person she loved the most in the world was asked to call her bora. simple, easy. emotionless. it took a few years before she was ready to tackle the idea that she had a half-sibling somewhere on the land. that a person who was part of her existed and would grow up without ever knowing about her. that they had a sibling, that they were technically of royal blood, that they had the best cousin in the world and a father who had once been her hero.

did they have the same eyes? the same laugh? before long, she fell victim to her own curiosity, swimming near to the island where her sibling was said to live. waited for hours a day, year by year, waiting. hoping. all they had to do was step foot in the ocean and bora was certain with every fiber of her being that she would be able to find them.

when it never happened, and by her own math they should be well into their own form of adulthood, she grew impatient. and then she made the decision. like her royal cousin, the new king; she would leave the ocean. she would wander the island and the humans within it and just maybe she would finally put her questions to rest. if she was lucky enough to get family out of it, that could hardly be a bad thing right?

and so, in another chapter of her bloodline, a mermaid found her way free of the sea, toes touching sand she had never seen so dry and soft as she examined the shoreline ahead. truly, how hard could finding one person be?

#dami #lee yubin #dreamcatcher #krp #hanacceptance #infidelity tw

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clancystallings04 · 2 years

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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i want dick grayson to be annoyingly perfect in the smallest of unimportant ways. and i want it to irritate the living hell out of everyone around him

every now and then, jason and dick will go to different chili dog carts around the city, and dick will sit and nod in agreement as jason nitpicks the food, occasionally offering his own two cents. the conversations are tense and if the topic strays from anything except food jason books it, but it’s progress, and dick’s grateful. but he doesn’t understand why jason always growls at him when he’s preparing his chili dogs, chalking it up to jason’s obsessiveness about that food in particular. dick figures he’s probably doing it wrong. until one day, jason bites out a rough question, asks him how he did that. dick’s confused, until jason points out, “you tear open the top of the ketchup packet in a perfect line every time. and you get all of the ketchup out of the packet in one smooth squeeze, and you never get any on your fingers, and i don’t understand how.”

roy was, arguably, a better archer than ollie. green arrow had been birthed from the island, from the trauma of survival. roy, however, had been practicing since he was a kid, and now that he was well into his twenties, he could safely say he was one of the best shots in the world. he could beat all his friends at darts, shoot an apple off wally’s head, and was generally pretty awesome. or, he would be awesome, if only dick fucking grayson would stop making every single shot of anything he threw in a trash can. no matter what he was throwing away, no matter the angle, no matter the wind or rain, as long as the trashcan was in eyesight, anything dick tossed would inevitably end up inside the garbage. sometimes, dick barely even glanced at the damn thing, just took note of it a threw the trash, expecting it to land in the proper place. and it always did. the worst part was, dick didn’t even seem to notice it. he wasn’t actively trying to make every shot. when asked, dick just shrugged and said “we had some pretty good knife throwers in the circus.”

tim’s memories starting out as robin were a whirlwind, a push-pull of bruce’s mistrust, then bruce’s acceptance, of dick’s fear and hesitation, then of dick’s love. he still remembered dick making the two of them hot chocolate in the kitchen after a day of training, tim’s muscles sore and entire body aching but the feeling of pride, because he was good enough to be robin, he knew he was. he hadn’t expected that to happen anytime soon again, given the way their relationship had fractured after tim had left dick’s batman, a terrified fury in his eyes. yet, he’d been proven wrong when, after a particularly rough arkham breakout, alfred asked both dick and tim to stay instead of returning to their own apartments. just because the manor brought back a feeling of warm nostalgia, however, doesn’t mean it kept the nightmares away. he came down to the kitchen and saw dick already up, moving around the stovetop. with a knowing look in his eyes, dick grabbed another mug to make tim some hot chocolate. tim was washed over with a feeling of relief, of acceptance. dick slid the mug towards him and tim took a sip, letting the rich chocolate warm him up from the inside. it was delicious. his little sigh of pleasure must have been audible, but then he remembered something he noticed. “dick. did you use alfred’s recipe for this?” and dick laughed, responded with, “nah. too much work. i just sort of tried to remember what was in hot chocolate, and eyeballed most of the ingredients. i’m glad it turned out good though. no clumps too, that’s good.”

donna didn’t care how old she got, playing in the park with dick never got old. as one of her oldest friends, the two of them could just walk around the park, in companionable silence, just letting themselves relax and enjoy the moment. so, of course, dick would break the silence and ask if she had any earbuds, because it was getting to quiet for him. donna laughed, and reached inside her pocket, fingered past the keys, and grabbed the headphones. the tangled little ball that came out made her sigh, and she pulled on an earbud to loosen it, only managing to make one of the many knots tighter. then, dick took the headphones out of her hands with a here, i got it, and with a few quick tugs, the tangled monstrosity unraveled easy as breathing. then, completely unaffected, he handed her an earbud, putting the other in his own ear. “i’m the one who’s got a lasso,” she said, ignoring dick’s snort and quip about how earbuds and a lasso are two completely different things, donna.

cass hadn’t expected to enjoy such a gentle, graceful form of athletics, but after a few lessons, it had become apparent that ballet could be far from gentle. it pushed her, made her practice and strengthen herself, and she’d fallen in love with the art quickly. however, the most frustrating part of the entire thing had little to do with actually dancing. the school bruce had helped pick out was prestigious, which meant a strict dress code, which meant her hair had to be in a bun. unfortunately, her hair never seemed to want to cooperate. after her latest attempt, falling into a mess of hair at her nape that had so many locks falling out, cass contemplated how mad the teacher would be if she showed up in a ponytail. at that moment, dick peeked into her room, having heard her frustrated noise, and asked if he could do anything to help. cass pointed to the mess of hair, not even remotely contained by the hair tie, and blew a strand out of her face. dick smiled with understanding, then came into her room, grabbing the comb on her bed and standing behind her in front of the mirror. he smoothed her hair with the comb, then pulled it this way and that, twisting and turning and wrapping until, two minutes later, a picture perfect bun sat atop her head. cass blinked with surprise. “first try,” she said, staring up at him, but he just shrugged and said, “it’s not that hard. you want me to drop you off?”

bruce could admit that he rather enjoyed undercover missions. it was an extended game with high stakes, a test of his own acting skills. with makeup changing his face, an expertly made wig, and a demeanor completely different from both brucie wayne and from batman, he swept through the crowd of greasy men, looking for a specific contact. then, he caught sight of someone specific indeed, though they weren’t his contact. eyebrows raised in a what are you doing here? gesture, he slid onto a barstool. from behind the bar, dick offered him a blinding smile, cleaning a glass. he tapped his wrist twice, a clear message. undercover, same as you. then, dick grabbed a couple bottles from underneath a shelf, flipping them in his hand and pouring with grandeur. bruce noticed he hadn’t put any alcohol in his little mixture, only making it seem as if he had. the flashy moves were entertaining, bruce could give him that. dick slid him the drink and bruce took a sip, eyebrows raising in brief surprise. “this is good. bartending?” dick put the bottles and the lemon away, unimpressed. “it’s not like it’s hard. just mixing a couple ingredients. no biggie.” bruce was fairly certain bartending was more difficult than that, but just then, his target came into view.

steph understood some of the bats’ frustration with dick, she really could. he hadn’t exactly been a welcome and opening batman, that’s for sure. regardless, as the few masks left in gotham had to work together, and she’d gotten to know the man pretty well. and she enjoyed his company as nightwing much more than batman. she dropped onto his balcony in his bludhaven apartment, announcing her presence in that loud-subtle way. dick was nestled in a couple blankets on the couch, going over a couple files, apparently just back from patrol if the small bandage on his neck and bags under his eyes were any indication. nevertheless, he brightened when he saw her and she nodded when he asked if she wanted to spend the night. he moved some of the papers to make room for her on the couch, but she flitted into his bathroom, going through the nail polish bottles she knew he had, and grabbing a shade of red that caught her eye. she tossed him the bottle and put her fingers in his lap, talking aimlessly about a movie she watched with cass. dick seemed to relax amidst her jabbering, and he shook the bottle a couple times before opening it and focusing on her right hand. but as he started, steph paused her rambling and focused on him instead, holding her hands gently and brushing paint onto her nails. he managed to cover her entire nail in three easy strokes, smooth and glossy, not a hint of paint on her skin. the nail was practically perfect. oh god she was jealous. “got a lot of practice with this, grayson?” she asked, and laughed at dick’s mock-offended of course not!

damian wasn’t one for photography, and he could grudgingly admit drake was far better at that particular skill than he was. however, his art class had promised to cover all types of media, and had upheld that pledge. the next two weeks were dedicated to photography, and their final project for the unit had to be a small collection of photographs. animal photography, of course, was damian’s chosen subject, and the knowledge that animal photography was one of the hardest skills to master only had damian wanting to do it more. days later, however, he could admit that it was trickier than expected. how had he never noticed how active his animals were? they never sat still, and every single picture came out blurry. grayson, upon coming across him in the manor grounds, noticed his futile attempts and asked if he could help. damian acquiesced the camera to grayson, who looked through the lens, finding the right angle and background, adjusting the focus settings slightly. then, he let out a sharp whistle and snapped his fingers. in nothing short of a miracle, damian’s pets pasued to look at him, only for a second, and the shutter clicked furiously. damian flipped through the photos, a good many of them clear and wonderful. damian snapped in irritation when dick ruffled his hair and said, “now you try!” it definitely wasn’t as easy as grayson made it look.

babs didn’t really know what she was expecting when she broke up with dick. there was hurt on both ends, and distance for a while, and she had no idea how much she’d miss him. but after a couple months of working together, of remembering that underneath the romantic tangles, their friendship was strong, she’d gotten to the point of dick randomly dropping by her apartment again. the downside was, dick kept randomly dropping by her apartment again. he stole her snacks and messed up her filing system and was so irritating that barbara almost forgot how relieved she was at having one of her best friends back. fortunately, it did come with benefits, because when he was bored, he did some of her chores for her. pausing in the doorway, she smiled at the sight of dick folding her clothes and putting them away. the gesture was platonic now, but no less appreciated. she pushed her wheelchair forward, and in greeting, dick told her how much he wanted to steal all her patterned socks. babs reminded him they wouldn’t fit, and laughed at his pout. dick grabbed one sock off the top of the laundry basket, then dug his hand into the pile of clothes randomly, coming up with the second sock in an instant. folding them together, he repeated the process for each pair. “that...that was fast. you got all of them?” babs asked in confusion. “yes? why, did you expect some to be missing?” was dick’s reply as he shook the wrinkles out of a sweater.

wally was never surprised. he knew dick better than probably most people in the world. he’d gone from frustrated and jealous of dick’s random talents, to admiring and appreciative, to just accepting them as a fact of life. dick’s phone never cracked if he accidentally he dropped it. dick never buttoned up shirts wrong, aligning each button with the right hole perfectly on the first try. dick could plug in usb ports the right way. dick always remembered which light switch was for which room, no matter whose house they were at. dick could pop a cd out of its case without ever smudging the disk, holding it by the rim perfectly. and dick always seemed to know when wally needed a day off, to just visit their old haunts, grab some ice cream, and spend the day talking away on a rooftop. that was just something his best friend could do. and wally would never tell dick, but underneath his fake irritation at it, but he loved him for it.

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fantasy2739 · 3 years

Note

Jamie Prompt: something to do with his dad and the team? Like they are all protective of him ?

So a post 2x08 is what I’ve gone for cause that scene hurt me.

Enjoy!

He thinks (he’s an idiot) that after getting thrown out by Coach Beard Jamie won’t see his old man for a while. He thinks he’ll just go away for a bit, lick his wounds and then come back in a bit. Maybe compliment him a little with the worlds shitest, most backhanded compliments. Try and weasel his way back in. He does not think, he never would have even guessed, that he would be stupid enough to turn up to Richmond’s next match. Or at least turn up after the match, because he’s been barred from the grounds. Jamie thanks Miss Welton for that mentally a million times. He’ll ask Keeley later what she likes because all he’d said was ‘I don’t want him here’ and Miss Welton had sorted it like that. Hadn’t asked for any details, although she may have heard about some of it, just said ‘of course’ and moved on. He should definitely send her a gift or something because the idea of playing with his old man in the crowd actually fills him with such dread he almost feels sick.

Instead, the dick is in the car park. On reflection maybe Jamie should have known he would come. Because he’s a dick. And he does whatever a dick would do. Which is stalk Jamie apparently. And Jamie does not want to deal with it. He can’t go through another breakdown in front of the team. And he can’t ask someone else to go deal with him, it’s his old man for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t know why he’s bothering with all this tough man bullshit, like the team would think any less of him.

Deep down he knows it’s because there’s still that fear. Still that haunting, gut-wrenching, all consuming fear that lives in him. The little boy who was terrified of his dads footsteps. Of the insults, fists, and rage. Of the man he’d stood up to occasionally, fleetingly, only to get it back so much worse. Not last time though. Last time he’d stood up and people had stood behind him. Not that it has stopped him being scared shitless. The feeling of horror right after he hit him, watching him start to get back up, and knowing, just knowing, it wasn’t going to end well. He’d half thought Roy was going to hit him too, not consciously. But Jamie, well, he hadn’t exactly been in the best state of mind to not perceive anything as not dangerous.

He knows that if he asked, said anything, his team would be right there. He just doesn’t want to. So he shoves his phone away, hiding the text from his old man and changes. They won this time so he probably won’t get too much stick. And he scored the winning goal. It’ll be fine, he tells himself.

So why does he feel like he’s walking into a lions den.

It goes to shit immediately. He’s barely ten feet out the door when his old man appears.

“There he is.” James says, Jamie hates the way his hands drop limply to his sides and his whole body tenses. He feels his jaw clench and unclench repeatedly. “Nice to see you playing properly eh? Against an amateur team but still. Managed to score eh?” He’s way to close and Jamie can’t look at him. He’s staring out into space like it will keep him safe. Like every word James says to him isn’t reverberating deep in his mind. He’s not quite sure what he’s done wrong when James grabs him by the jaw.

“Look at me.” James snaps at him. He’s shoved hard just as Isaac walks out. Fuck.

“What the fuck you doing bruv?” Isaac asks, physically stepping between Jamie and James. James moves forward but Isaac is a blockade. He shoves James back.

“Can’t talk to me yourself eh Jamie?” James taunts. “Fucking pussy.” Jamie’s hand curls into a fist.

“No.” Jamie grounds out. He rests a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “I got this.” Because he is not having a breakdown in front of his teammates ever again.

“You sure bruv?” Isaac asks, arms crossing. He doesn’t move though. Okay so Jamie is just going to have to tell James to piss off in front of Isaac. He can do that.

He fucking can’t.

He’s breathing a little harder and he still can’t look James in the eyes. He’s starting to sweat a little and his legs feel like jelly. So of course while he’s trying to get his tongue to work and James continues to mock him, more people are coming out. Colin stops pretty much as soon as he’s out the door, causing Dani to bump into him and Bumbercatch to bump into Dani.

“What’s he doing here?” Colin asks, there’s an undercurrent of anger in his voice. Even Dani has lost his perpetual smile. More and more of the team is crowding nearby. Roy comes out after nudging Jan out the way.

“Why the fuck are you.” Roy stops and stares at James Tartt. “The fuck are you doing here? You’re not allowed on the fucking grounds.” Jamie actually feels relief at the sight of Roy. “Newsflash fuckwit, the car park is part of the grounds.” Oh shit, yeah. Yeah it is.

“Am I not allowed to visit my own son anymore?” James asks, all mock pouting. “Why don’t we ask Jamie?” And Jamie freezes because he should say no. He can’t keep letting him in.

“No.” Jamie says quietly. His hand is still on Isaac’s shoulder. James tries to step closer, but there’s Zoreaux, standing right next to Isaac, not letting him anywhere near Jamie.

“Couldn’t hear that.” James says flicking at his ear.

“No.” Jamie repeats louder. He can see Roy nodding in the corner of his eye. He’s not a fan of the way James’ face twists. Or the way his eyes narrow slightly. It’s the small things, the little dangers signs that Jamie has learnt well.

“Well it’s not like I enjoy watching my son play for an amateur club.” James starts and Jamie listens to about half of it before the words slip out of his mouth.

“Just piss off!” He snaps. Instantly he wishes he could shove them back in his mouth because all he’s done is made it worse. Maybe his brain fried. Maybe he was possessed by prick Jamie. Or maybe Roy took over his brain with transparence or something. Either way he knows what’s coming. As soon as he thinks it, that fist is flying towards him and Jamie flinches.

It never makes contact. Roy is hauling him away while Isaac puts his body between Jamie and James again. Shoving the man back before he can do any more damage. Zoreaux and Richárd are snapping in rapid French and Dani is yelling in Spanish. Colin is surging up next to Isaac and telling James to piss off. Bumbercatch looks about ready to launch himself at James and Jan is calling him a terrible excuse for a human. Jamie can understand maybe half the words being spoken but the tone definitely sounds angry. He’s pretty sure that Sam just swore (but it’s Sam so he maybe just called him a piece of shit). Jamie doesn’t get to see exactly what happens because Roy has dragged him inside. Jamie presses himself against the wall and shoves his hands in his pocket because he’s not doing this again. He can still hear them yelling at James outside. He should probably stop them, before they beat him to a pulp or something.

“You alright?” Roy asks. Jamie nods. He breathes a few times and Roy gently pats his shoulder.

“Sorry ‘bout him.” Jamie says because what else is he meant to do.

“Don’t apologise.” Roy says firmly but gently. “He’s a dick. The biggest dick to ever be a dick.” Jamie gives him a half smile. “You don’t have to face him alone.”

“He’s my dad.” Jamie insists. That’s the whole point. It’s his dad. His problem.

“Fuck.” Roy grumbles and Jamie feels like it’s not directed at him. “Jamie, he’s a dick. You shouldn’t have to fucking see him. Get it through that prick head of yours. We’re here to help you.” Jamie opens his mouth to argue, about what he doesn’t know. “We’re here for you.” Jamie’s jaw slams shut and he nods. Roy nods back. And Jamie finally relaxes.

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catxsnow · 3 years

Text

PAPA BEAR R.H.

Request: I'm so happy that you want to write the request! Anywho, my idea was basically that the reader works as a nanny for Lian while Roy is off doing vigilanting. And Lian gets attached to them while Roy is busy falling for them (mostly because they love his daughter as much as he does). In other words, I crave domestic bliss and would for you to right it. Thank you so much for taking in my request! As a writer myself I know it can be quite draining. I hope you enjoy this one. Heart anon :)

Warning: fluff, mentions of sex, mentions of roy getting injured

A/N: This one was so soft I loved writing it.

Word Count: 3.8k

Roy Harper moved into the apartment complex only a couple of months after you had. He and his daughter weren't the quietest of neighbors, but they were always kind nonetheless. You could hear their laughter early in the morning when walking by their door to work and the thumping of them running around to play.

Within the first month of him moving in, he knocked on your door twice. The first time was actually his daughter, Lian, who left a quiet knock. You barely heard it and when you couldn't see anyone through the peek hole - you opened it to find the cutest little girl with a smile on her face staring up at you.

She introduced herself to you, and mentioned that she and her father had seen you several times in the building. Roy popped his head out of his home only moments later with worry filling him. You waved at his appearance and quickly put together that Lian snuck out to see you.

He was ready to get mad for having Lian talk to strangers, even if you did seem like a good person. The sound of her giggle as you called Roy "angry papa bear" stopped him from doing so. It was a silly joke, but having Lian smile and laugh like that made it impossible to be mad.

That was the first time that you met them.

Almost exactly a week later they showed up again. The pair stood side by side with a container in hand. Lian wanted to make cookies for 'the pretty next-door neighbour' and Roy found himself wanting to meet you again, for longer than just a couple minutes that time.

From that moment on Lian couldn't stop talking about you. She was always trying to convince her father to go over so that she could play with you. The three of your spent hours together. Going for ice cream, pizza nights, every little kid's dream. There were countless times that Roy apologized for taking up so much of your time, but the change was pleasant.

Your first impression of Roy was right, he was a big papa bear. It seemed he dedicated his life to his daughter. Always sought for the best, always trying to make the best life for her. There was nothing more that he wanted than for her to be happy.

Roy asked you to babysit Lian one night. It was clear he was in a rush and had no other options. Though you hadn't planned to be left alone with a four-year-old that evening, you couldn't say no to Roy. Whatever he had to do, clearly it was important by how frantic he was.

So, Lian ended up in your living room, cuddled up on the couch with you and a movie playing on the TV. She was eager to spend time with you, but you couldn't help but be worried about why Roy was in such a need to drop his child off with you and run. He had never acted like that before.

"Do you know where your dad went?" curiosity had finally gotten the best of you. Lian was barely awake in your arms. It was late at night and Roy hadn't made any notice of when he was going to be back - not that you minded watching her for the whole night but where could he possibly be?

"I'm not really supposed to tell you, but," Lian looked around the room as if to check if anyone appeared in the room within the last two minutes. She gestured for you to lower down to her level and cupper her little hands around your ear. "Daddy saves the world, he goes by Arsenal." Her pronunciation of his hero name came out slurred, though you could clearly understand. "He's a superhero."

It was easy to guess she was joking at first. Every little kid looked up to their parents as heroes. She couldn't have been any different. However, the longer you thought about it the more you realized she was telling the truth. Roy avoided wearing T-shirts around you and the times that he did you couldn't help but notice the scars on his skin.

His quick reaction time whenever you nearly dropped something was impeccable, and he always seemed to notice the smallest details from a mile away. Maybe it was possible that Roy, the big angry papa bear was Arsenal. You wouldn't know until you asked him - a conversation that he was surely going to avoid.

Lian fell asleep on you before you could ask any more questions. Apparently, you took too long to comment on her revelation. Roy, as Arsenal? You heard a little bit about the hero, but nothing as much as Batman or Superman. He used to work with Green Arrow, went off to fight the world by himself - sort of.

That was about as much as you knew of Arsenal. It was a rare occasion to know more about the man under the mask than in it. If she was evening speaking the truth - then again what reason did she have to lie?

By the time the movie was over, you were nearly asleep right alongside Lian. The little girl hadn't stirred since she fell asleep. A knock at your front door jolted you awake. By the erratic tapping, you were sure it was Roy. Light from the hall poured into the room when he opened it after your welcome.

Your finger was held up to your lips to tell him to be quiet. It was already so late in the night and you didn't want Lian to wake. Roy sat down in the chair across from you. He winced, as if his muscles had been overworked - or if he had taken several hits too many. The bright light of the TV shone on his face, illuminating the dark bruise that was starting to form under his eye.

"I can't thank you enough for watching over her," Roy told you. "How was she?"

"An angel, like always," your smoothed down some of her hairs that had been sticking up. A sleepy smile was stuck on her face.

"She likes you, a lot," Roy looked exhausted. It was clear that he wanted to go to bed and pass out. The one reason that he was chatting was to be polite. "You know, the day that she came over for the first time, she had been bugging me all morning to go see 'the pretty lady next door'."

"Well I can't complain that she took matters into her own hands. Who knows how long it would have taken you," you grinned. Even in the dark light you could see the flush rise to his cheeks. He was an attractive man - and you often times wondered what happened to Lian's mother. Was she still in the picture? Were they married? Did she know about Arsenal?

"Lian told me something pretty interesting tonight, Roy," you cleared your throat. It might not have been the best time to address the issue, but you would surely lose the courage if you waited any longer. "She said that you run off at night being a superhero. Arsenal, to be exact."

"You know kids, always with their crazy stories," Roy was quick to try and cover up Lian's exposure. He was taken aback that his kid was so quick to spill secrets - they had gone over it dozens of times - she couldn't tell anyone. Even the pretty neighbour who they saw nearly every day.

"Cut the crap," you stared at his bruise. Roy let out a defeated breath. He ran his hands down his face - less than half a year of knowing you and you had already found out his secret. Oliver wouldn't be impressed. "You don't have to lie to me, you can trust me. Clearly, you do, or you wouldn't have left Lian with me for the whole night."

"She shouldn't have told you."

"I'm glad she did." Lian shuffled against your side. Her arm that was tucked into her chest stretched across you like she was giving you a hug. Roy smiled at the gesture. "I was worried about you tonight. You left in a rush and I didn't know what had happened to you. Lian was worried too.

"I won't tell anyone if you're worried," you assured. "Actually I'm kinda glad to hear that your scars are from being Arsenal not something like being in a gang." Roy chuckled at your confession.

"You're taking this all quite well." You shrugged. It always seemed like he had a secret or two, you just weren't expecting something like this. "Thank you, for understanding - and for taking care of Lian. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime, Roy."

Roy took full advantage of you knowing his secret. He didn't need to come up with some lie on where he was going or why. Instead, he could drop Lian off at your door with a simple "gotta go" and you'd understand that the world was in trouble. Roy was grateful for you, for understanding and to be so willing to help him take care of Lian.

It wasn't just babysitting anymore, you were nearly just as big of a part of raising Lian as he was. She looked forward to seeing you each time, never did she feel like it was something that she had to do. They both looked up to you.

A hot Saturday afternoon, after a night of wreckage that you and Lian had created in your apartment, Roy decided to take you both out for ice cream. He had come back to your home to find that every blanket and cushion in your apartment had been pulled out to make a massive fort that covered your entire living room. The mattress from your bed had been pulled off and was surrounded by blankets.

Although your home was a mess, he found the both of you asleep with the title scene of Lian's favourite movie on. Crumbs of cookies were scattered everywhere, along with half-eaten plates of french fries. Clearly, the both of you had a wild night and Roy couldn't bring himself to wake either of you.

Lian had talked about her night all morning the next day and how much she loved to spend time with you. Roy thought it to be the perfect opportunity to take you out for an afternoon you deserved. It wasn't much, but the thought was there and you appreciated his efforts.

There was a small, pop up ice-cream shop in the park Lian adored. It was her favourite place to get ice cream because she could sit on the park bench and watch all the ducks in the pond. Her little mind was still so pure and the quacks of the baby ducks had her a giggling mess.

Each of her hands were held in yours and Roy's. She's do a running start before getting the both of you to swing her up into the air. Your arms were tired by the time that she finally had enough of the movement - unlike Roy who seemed perfectly fine. Using that bow of his left his arms huge.

"What kind of ice cream are you going to get?" You asked Lian. She hummed, deep in thought like it was the toughest decision he would ever have to make in her life.

"Chocolate!" She finally decided on. Roy chuckled at the answer, it was what she got every time they went out for ice cream. He tickled her sides for a moment before hoisting her up onto his shoulders. Lian's arms stuck out like she was an airplane and the smile never left her face.

Roy was a great dad, that was easy to tell. It was hard not to be attracted to the fatherly side of him. He seemed like a different person when he was with his kid and when he was talking to you about the stress of the life he lived. Lian had really brought you both together and you were quick to call him one of your closest friends.

Many nights he would come over after Lian was asleep just to hang out with you. It was refreshing talking to someone outside the Titans. Not to mention that he adored how you cared for his daughter. In the year that you had known them, you took her in like she was your own. Even her own mother couldn't achieve that love anymore.

You reminded him of the life he could have, if he ever wanted to get out of the hero game. Settle down with Lian, have the white picket fence life that he always mocked for years. Would it really be that bad? To live without worrying whether or not he was going to make it out alive the next day? To find someone that he could love?

Your phone rang just as you were about to reach the ice cream shop. It wasn't uncommon for your boss to call you on the weekend, however whenever he did it was usually important. "I'm sorry, I have to answer this, I'll just be a minute." Roy nodded in understatement. He knew the burden of responsibilities more than anyone.

"Daddy?" Lian spoke. Roy grabbed her once more and lifted her back down to the ground. He knelt down to her level so that she didn't have to look up. "If you're my papa bear," she hadn't started to use that term until you started referring to Roy with it. "Does that make (Y/N) mama bear?"

Roy was taken aback by her comment. Although he knew that you and Lian were very close, he never expected she would look up to you as her own mother. Jade wasn't in Lian's life anymore, and she was far too young to remember what she was like. You had been the closest thing to a mother in Lian's life.

The more he thought about it, the more he was glad to have you as a mother fill in for Lian. It wasn't just the will to take care of her when Roy dropped her off, you went above and beyond to make her life good. Lian wasn't a burden that had been shoved into your life because of knowing a secret, she was a blessing.

Just as you were a blessing in Roy's life.

Roy was grateful for the nights that you stayed up with him, talking, listening, whatever he needed you were there. It was so easy to open up to you, more than Dick or Donna or anyone on the team. You didn't have to be there for him, you choose to be because you wanted to be.

You baked cookies with Lian on a Sunday morning because you wanted to. You helped to bandage Roy up after a hard night because you wanted to. You cooked supper for them both when Roy was having trouble to keep up with his life because of being Arsenal because you wanted to, not because you needed to.

Being part of his life was sudden, but you wouldn't want it any other way. And truth was, Roy wasn't sure if he could keep up both of his lives without your help.

"I didn't think she was ever going to fall asleep." You fell down on the couch next to Roy. He called you over when Lian refused to fall asleep unless it was you putting her to bed. She requested story after story and wouldn't settle until you promised that you would come over again to make pancakes in the morning.

His arms stretched along the back of the couch and as you leaned your head back you rested on him. Eyes shut, lips parted, Roy didn't notice that he was staring until you let out a sigh. He couldn't stop thinking about Lian's comment. It was clear that she looked up to you as a mother, but did you feel the same?

Or more so, did you only care about Lian, and not him? It couldn't be. You spent nearly just as much time with Roy as you did his daughter. The moment that they walked into your life you were consumed by them. It was hard not to be, they added so much joy.

"Did she get you to promise to come back in the morning again?" Roy asked. Without opening your eyes, you nodded. He wasn't surprised.

"I may as well live here at this point, the only time I'm ever in my own home is to sleep," you joked. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, to live with Roy and Lian. You were more than just a babysitter, you were practically family. Roy knew everything about you, and you him. Living together almost seemed normal.

"I'd like that," Roy confessed. He had full intentions to say that Lian would like it if you were to move in. The idea of it probably had him just as excited as his daughter would be.

"Would you?" You cocked an eyebrow. He wanted that excuse to spend more time with you, to be with you. Throughout the year you grew to love Lian, he had completely fallen in love with you, without even realizing it. You made his family feel complete once more. You made him feel complete.

Roy wanted to wake up with you every morning. He wanted to sit around and drink coffee while Lian told you both about her dreams that night. He wanted to come home after a long night's mission to find you cuddled up in his bed, half asleep and waiting for him. Roy wanted to have a life with you.

You looked over at him, waiting for his response. His pale skin was tinged pink, eyes filled with worry of rejection. Worried that you loathed the idea, or more so, didn't feel the same way about him.

How could you? Roy had managed to steal your heart right alongside Lian. You missed his presence when he wasn't around, and when you were together the time spend never seemed long enough.

"(Y/N), I..." Roy tried to grasp the words that were right at the tip of his tongue. He wanted to tell her that this past year of knowing her had been the best year of his life. He never wanted to lose this happiness that he had with you. Instead, he stuttered over his words, flustered. "Fuck."

Roy's palms grasped your cheeks. He gave you just a moment to express if you didn't want this, a moment too long. Your lips were needy against his, this moment had far too long waited for either of you. Your fingers threaded through the hair on the back of his head, keeping him close against you.

His arm snaked around you, gesturing for you to lower yourself on the couch. Not once did he break the kiss to hover over you, trapping you beneath his frame. Any exhaustion that you had was wiped away entirely. Every nerve in your body was lit up from his touch.

"Stay with me?" Roy asked. He gave you no time to answer, his lips back on yours the second that he was done asking his question. You couldn't leave, not when you already couldn't get enough of him. His lips, his touch, everything, it wasn't enough.

"Yes," you latched onto the hem of his shirt, tugging it up until he got the hint to take it off completely. "Your room. Now."

You and Roy were up far earlier than Lian the next morning.

Even though your night had been long you still found yourself excited to wake up the next morning. You were excited to wake up next to him. Limbs draped over you, warm breath at the back of your neck. Light kisses left against your bare skin as Roy awoke shortly after you did.

Your brief time in bed that morning was short. The last thing that you needed was Lian walking in on the both of you naked. So, you had gotten up to keep with your promise to her. Pancakes.

"Didn't know you were the clingy kind, Harper. Not that I'm complaining," you joked. He barely took his hands off you all morning. Holding you flat against his chest as you cooked breakfast, soft kisses that warmed you completely. "Go wake up Lian, everything's ready and you know she doesn't like cold pancakes."

Roy kissed you again before doing as he was told. His lips lingering, wondering if he needed the extra few minutes with you before Lian joined you. You pressed against his chest to make the decision for him. He had gotten more than enough love the past ten hours to need just a moment more.

He returned moments later, arms full with Lian. She got excited when noticing you with a plate full of pancakes. Roy set her down in her chair before taking a seat on his own. You kissed the top of her head, then his.

"I could get used to this," Roy spoke with his mouth full. Lian scolded him, her finger shaking at him and a pout on her face. He swallowed before continuing. "If you were serious about your offer last night."

It was a big jump for the both of you, even if it was true that you had basically been living together for quite a while now. He wasn't worried about Lian disagreeing with the idea, she would love it. In fact, he was sure that if she knew about the offer there was no possibility of you saying no.

You grabbed Roy's hand from under the table. Moving in wasn't something that you needed to rush. Being right next door, it was easy to see each other whenever anyways. Rushing something that you wanted to last was never the safest option, and you wanted whatever the hell you had going on with Roy Harper to last a lifetime.

"I was," you answered. "One day."

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#roy harper #roy harper x reader #roy harper one shot #roy harper imagine #roy harper fanfic #roy harper x you #lian harper #arsenal #dc #dc comics #dc fanfiction #dc one shot #dc imagine

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

The Nanny Pt. 3

Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader

18+

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: alcohol/drinking, food, corrupt cop, mentions of prostitution/smut, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, mentions of serial killers/murder, mutual pining,

Summary:

Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.

A/N: I got inspired re-watching one of my favorite shows and I want to know if anyone else gets the reference I’m using! If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know! This is also unedited!

Taglist Form is in my bio!

Series Masterlist

Your shoulders tensed listening to the radio in the morning. Sitting on your ottoman, you were painting your nails, using the coffee table as your nail station. It was a really bright morning, and you had the curtains pulled open to draw in light. Julie frantically rushed between her room and the bathroom getting ready for her shift at the diner. The newest single from The Beach Boys was playing through the little counter top radio, but at the top of the hour, the melodies playing through the speaker changed to the news. The top story of the morning was chilling.

“Jules,” you said, calling her over hesitantly, putting the cap back on the bottle of polish. “Come listen to this.”

She scurried out of her room while working to tie her apron in the back, and then she stood next to where you sat to listen to the story on the news. The color drained from her face as you both listened to the reporter describe the horrific scene that was under investigation early this morning.

Roy Laferty was an evangelical preacher whose body washed up by the lake very early that same morning. The news report talked about the police investigation, and also disclosed his wife Helen, is also reported missing. They are looking into the disappearance of Helen, as well as opening a full investigation on Laferty’s murder. They also urge individuals with any information regarding the two to call the Sheriff’s department and to provide a statement.

“That’s horrifying,” you mumble, shocked as you try to process the news. Julie nods in agreement but strangely doesn’t seem nearly as affected by the news as you.

“It’s happening again,” she mutters, obviously concerned but her lack of surprise worries you.

“What do you mean again?” you ask.

“There was a string of unexplained murders, all men, like this newest one,” Julie explained, “This was all over the news like two years ago- can’t believe you hadn’t heard about it.” All you could do was shrug; this was all new to you. “Obviously, there was nothing linking their deaths, but there were these five killings a couple of years ago that are still unsolved. There’s no evidence, but the town rumors it was like a serial killer or something. Nothing is confirmed, of course, just a story.”

“What makes people think it was all the same person?” you ask, hesitantly.

“All the people were always the same type,” she shrugs, “Men all in their 20s and 30s. Again, there’s nothing linking them all together. It’s just talk.”

You clicked off the radio, and didn’t know what to do with yourself. Julie patted your shoulder, comfortingly but she had to go on with her day. So did you, and you almost her ability to move about the apartment almost unfazed by the news. You suppose it makes sense, her growing up here she’s probably used to it. You didn’t have the experience or the thick skin she had.

You had decided to go to the library, still preoccupied by the news segment as well as the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff. You spent the better half of the morning looking at the library’s archives of old newspapers. You wanted to read more about the unsolved cases Julie had told you about, so there you sat for several hours looking through the microfilm reader. You even stumbled upon articles that featured the Sheriff.

There he was plain as day on the front page when it was announced he had won the election the first time he ran several years back. You couldn’t help but notice the changes in his appearance and demeanor compared to the man you keep running into. He was a little slimmer, and he looked a lot happier, a little fuller of life, you decided was a good way to explain it. His smile was wider, and you could see the difference in his eyes as well. It was seeing how he was before the stress of the job began to take its heavy toll. He had on the same leather jacket as well, you were fairly certain, even though the one in the photograph hung a little looser.

You continued to skim through articles, piecing your way through the history of Knockemstiff. Little articles in black and white that persevered the history of this dark little town. You were beginning to realize this backwater town was a lot more tangled and complex than you originally believed. It was a tangled history, riddled with crime and unclosed cases, that people seem to have either forgotten or choose to ignore for their own sake. Your mind wandered back to the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff and him being corrupt. You wonder how much of what you read about linked back to him. Though you imagine if he has any sort of political connection, which a man like him must have, the things he was involved in probably didn’t even make it into the paper. The thought made you physically shiver.

You put the large leather portfolios of archives you took and put them back into their proper place on the self chronologically. You grabbed your sweater from the back of your chair, and pushed the chair back into place. Looking up at the clock on the wall, it was only just one in the afternoon. You decided to head down to the diner and grab a bite, and also visit Julie during her second shift. It was a short walk from the library to the diner. Everywhere felt like a short walk here, probably because everything in downtown was not much bigger than a few blocks. The majority of people lived far from the center of town, on their own land and farms.

The little bell on the door rang when you stepped in and Julie waved at you from behind the counter and pointed for you to grab an empty table in her section. You put your bag on the table and took a seat. It was a fairly busy time, most people who worked at the surrounding businesses coming in for their lunch break. Julie brought you over a coffee and then said she’d be back to chat when she got to take her five.

Lee hadn’t been able to go home since the phone call. The symptoms of his hangover were worsening and he was growing more irritable. His five o’clock shadow was still evident on his tired face and his head was pounding. He tried his best to just power through it but the sound of anyone trying to talk to him just made his ears ring.

After leaving the scene, he had to stop by his office and then he was on the phone for the better part of an hour fielding calls from frantic citizens not only of Knockemstiff but also Meade, where Laferty was from. Despite how horribly he felt, he tried his best to keep his temper level and just reassure people he had things under control. He was losing his patience.

He opened up his desk drawer and grabbed his bottle of asprin. Empty. He threw it into the small waste bin and got up abruptly grabbing his jacket off the hook and storming out. He didn’t tell anyone he was leaving and he didn’t care. It was a short walk to the drugstore from the station and he wouldn’t be five minutes. He just needed to do something to stop his head from hurting.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” the pharmacist greeted when he walked in. He nodded his head upwards briefly to reply without having to talk. He just needed to get in and out. She went back to whatever she was working on when he came in, and he browsed the aisles for what he needed. After paying and walking out, he glanced in the direction of the diner when he was crossing the street. There you were, again. Sitting alone and chatting with the waitress that was refilling your coffee.

He let out a heavy sigh, and then continued walking. He didn’t want you to see him like this, hungover, unshaved, wrinkled uniform and heavy undereye bags from his lack of sleep. You looked- well, Lee thought you were the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while, maybe ever. There was something about you he couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was just because you weren’t from here. You were a fresh face, and not ruined by this town. There was a sweetness and an innocence in how you talked to him, because you didn’t know him like the rest of people here did. He liked that.

Even when he left the station for the day, he couldn’t even go home yet. He had a meeting at the bar with one of Brown’s lackeys. He was just supposed to collect his cut so he couldn’t imagine it would take long, but he was still annoyed. Stepping into the bar he looked around as he took off his hat. It was a little more crowded tonight then when he was here last. The red curtain was closed and his eyes lingered there for a moment before directing his attention to the man he recognized who was waving him over.

“Sheriff,” the man greets and Lee slides into the booth across from him.

“Hayward,” he replies. Without even needing to order, the bartender comes over bringing them a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

“You ever go back there?” Hayward asks, watching as a girl came out and brought a man behind the curtain who had been waiting at the bar.

“No,” Lee scoffs.

“They are amazing,” Hayward says, almost giddy. Lee feels sympathy towards the poor woman who had to take care of him. Lee doesn’t acknowledge the statement and just empties his glass and begins to pour himself a second.

“So, my cut?” Lee asks. Hayward frowns and goes into the breast pocket of his sports coat and pulls out an envelope of cash.

“You aren’t getting full,” the man says when Lee cocks a brow at the thinness of the envelope.

“Still?” Lee asks, pissed. Hayward nods. Lee’s jaw clenches.

“You didn’t keep things tidy on your end,” Hayward reminds him, “You got one job. Keep the cops out of our territory. We had two cruisers drive through last week. The only reason you’re getting anything at all is cause you managed to keep your people off us when we did the exchange with Deckard’s crew.”

The man finishes his drink, and then slaps the empty glass on the table. He pulls out his own envelope, which is much thicker than Lee’s and drops down more than enough for the drinks. He chuckles condescendingly and tells the Sheriff to get a dance. Fuck that. Lee takes the extra money and plans to just put it right in his pocket and go home. He finishes his third scotch and suddenly his headache was back. He felt worse than he did earlier today.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” a feminine voice asks, making him break his line of thought. He looks to his side and he recognizes her as one of the girls he sees bringing men to the back room, behind the velvet curtain. He shakes his head, and instead of leaving him alone, she slides into the booth next to him. Her hand grazes over his thigh. “You seem awful tense, Sheriff,” she says and then bites her lip.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He knows she doesn’t actually want him, and it’s just an attempt to get him to spend money in the backroom. If he doesn’t focus his already hazing vision, maybe she could vaguely remind him of you. He can’t do it, but he wants to. Her hand moves up his leg and he pulls away. He adjusts his pants and she shrugs.

“Maybe next time then,” she winks before walking away. He rests his head back on the vinyl seat and sighs. He grabs his hat and jacket, leaving before he changes his mind. “Ask for Cherry when you come in, yeah?” she calls when he walks out.

You are just everywhere. You’re in his head and he doesn’t even know you. He needs to sleep, desperately, and part of him in the back of his mind hopes you’ll be there. When he wakes up, he doesn’t remember.

“Have you heard about the Church fundraiser coming up?” Julie asks. You shake your head. “It’s a pretty big deal here. Everyone participates.”

“What is it?” you ask, kicking off your slippers so you can sit crisscross on the couch.

“Bid-On-A-Basket,” she says casually, like it’s the most obvious thing.

“Never heard of it,” you reply, “It sounds fun. What is it?”

“All us single gals put together a picnic basket with everything for a lunch,” she explains, “and then all the eligible bachelors bid on the basket and a date with the girl who made it. Last year, the dreamiest guy, Bill Whittier, bought mine- it’s so fun. Me and Bill didn’t work out but it was a good time.”

“I don’t know anyone here,” you say hesitantly.

“Perfect way to get a date then,” she teases. You bite your lip. You aren’t sure about this.

“And what if some creep is the highest bidder?” you counter.

“You get a bad date story for your next date?” she poses. “Please,” she begs, “It’s for a good cause, all the money this year is going to help the Sunday school.”

“What if no one bids on it?” You rebut.

“Look at yourself,” she scoffs, “you’ll get bids. Trust me.” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally. She smirks, completely planning to wear you down.

“Remember it’s for the kids,” she reasons, “It wouldn’t hurt to go and participate.”

“I said I’ll think about it,” you laugh.

Time passes and soon enough you get another call from Sandy, and you are suddenly back to taking care of Valerie. You had missed her, a lot actually. You definitely have gotten attached to her, and you think you’ve grown on her too. Sandy was vague this time for how long they’d be gone, but since the previous time went so smoothly, you didn’t worry about it.

About a week after Sandy and Carl left this time, there was another disturbing news report. You were sitting on the floor, changing Valerie and you had the television playing softly in the background. The news told the story of another body, this time found in the woods off of the highway. You finish changing the baby and hold her close, her little chin resting on your shoulder as you watch the news story. It was just like Julie had talked about. Another man, thirty years old. He was shot and his body abandoned. You jump at the knock at the front door.

You peep through the curtains, and you see the Sheriff waiting on the front porch. You wonder if he knows you’re there. Part of you almost wishes he knows it you here and he wanted to see you. It’s incredibly stupid on your part and you know better, but nonetheless, part of you hoped he came here for you. Very stupid. With Valerie on your hip, you open the door.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he says walking into the house. He stops in front of you and presses a kiss to Valerie’s forehead and she squeals happily seeing Lee. You close the door with your foot. “May I?” he asks, and opens his arms. You agree, based on Valerie’s reactions to him whenever she sees him. He takes her in his arms, and she starts playing with his tie. He loosens it so she can play with it and not choke him.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” you ask. He reacts in a way in a way you can’t really read, but you don’t press.

His mind just goes back to the woman a couple weeks back in the brothel who asked him the same thing, and that his mind immediately had gone to you. He just clears his throat and snaps himself out of that thought process.

“Um, I just came by to see Sandy,” he says, “But I can fathom a guess that she’s not here?”

“Excellent deduction,” you joke, and he smirks. Valerie has his tie in her mouth and is covering it in drool. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nod. “You looked a little scared when you answered.”

“Just watching the news before you showed up is all,” you explain, “They were talking about how there was another man found dead.”

“Ain’t got nothing to worry about,” he says, “We’re on top of it. I’m on my way over there now.”

“Can I ask you something?” you ask hesitantly.

“Of course, darling.”

“My friend, you probably know her- Julie Grady.”

“Yeah, nice kid,” he says, listening but gently pulling his tie from Valerie’s grasp. She starts playing with the flap of the pocket of his jacket.

Kid. You almost grimace. That’s right. Of course, Lee would view someone your age that way. You weren’t. You chastise yourself for even caring, but you decide to continue. You shouldn’t care how he sees you.

“Yeah- well, she told me there have been others,” you continue, “I also read up about it, just the newspapers at the library- but she said people thought it was some kind of serial killer… I just, I want to know what you think.”

“I don’t think know,” he answers honestly, a little taken aback, not expecting you to approach him with something this serious. “I doubt it,” he explains, “Serial killers stay close to home. Now those cases you read about, and these two we are looking at- they sound close together but logistically, they aren’t really. Two of those unsolved were in completely different states- just like this new one.”

“So, no traveling serial killer?” you chuckle, trying to sound lighthearted. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Most people like that stay in one area,” Lee explains, “They work jobs, they have a home, you know? They tend to stay near where they live.”

“That makes me feel much better,” you answer honestly.

“You got nothing to worry about, and that’s a promise,” he grins, although he supposes coming from him that probably doesn’t mean much. Regardless, it makes you smile.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” you offer again. He bites his lip, taking a moment to think.

“Sandy keeps a bag of candy in her cabinet,” he says, walking into the kitchen with you following close behind. He passes Valerie off to you and he chuckles under his breath at the state of his tie. He reaches up in the cabinet and pulls down a brown paper bag, filled with taffies and chocolates.

Something about this man who has a whole time scared of him playing with his niece and then stealing sweets from the cupboard is something you find so strangely endearing. He unwraps one of the brightly colored taffies and then puts the bag in his pocket.

“I gotta go,” he announces, “let me know if you hear from Sandy, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reply.

“Gonna head out to that scene, and do my report,” he discloses, not really sure why he’s telling you. “Then I have a meeting at the rectory about that fundraiser thing. Figure out security.”

“They need security at Bid-On-A-Basket?” you ask, with an eyebrow raised. He smiles.

“You going?” he asks, flirtatiously.

“Just seems weird to have police at a Church thing.”

“There’s been stupid fights,” he shrugs, “some guy will get outbid and cause a fuss. Nothing serious. Probably just gonna be me and a deputy in case. You going?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” you say sheepishly. “Why?”

He walks towards the front door, and you follow seeing him out.

“Cause I gotta know if I’ll be bidding on a basket,” he winks.

“You gonna start a fight if you don’t win it?” you joke.

“If it’s yours? Absolutely, darling.”

Taglist:

@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro @pyronack @greeneyedblondie44 @acciosiriusblack @weenersoldierr @teenagemutant @witchybarb @iraot @my-love-darling @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @swiftieandthewintersoldier @letsfly-andbe-free @rebekahdawkins @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @hersilencedscreams @unsaltedalmonds @dangerdolns @vintagepigeon @bluebouquetcupcake29 @goslytherin @captainofallfandoms @buckistan @aynanasstuff @everything-is-all-clear @rosalynshields @tinynshykitten

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #the devil all the time #sebastian stan characters #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker x f!reader #lee bodecker smut #slow burn #mystery #lee bodecker oneshot

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courtlyharlequin · 3 years

Note

Um, m-may I have this dance with you, Vil? ✨

Butterflies

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you for your request~ I went on a field day with this because it was so open-ended. I based it off of the way you wrote your question and the sparkle . It reminded me of a romcom anime~ I hope you like it ( *´▽｀* ) ♡

Your phone skidded across the table. Its vibrations transferred to your entire desk, earning a frantic yelp from you as you scrambled to turn it off. It was time. You had no time to lose. You couldn’t put this off any longer. The spring formal was the day after tomorrow. It had to be today. You had to ask Vil today. If he accepts the invitation, then you would have one day to process the fact that he even said yes to you out of all people. If he rejects it, then you have one day to sulk before putting on a brave face and attending the dance as if nothing ever happened. You paid for the ticket already. You weren’t letting your madol go to waste. Initially, you bought two tickets. One for you and one for Vil. It was part of your plan to ask him out. Unfortunately for you, it came to light that the blond had his own ticket as he was part of the planning committee. You ended up giving your other ticket to Ruggie who wasn’t planning on going in the first place due to the admission prices.

This was one of many instances where you ended up putting off the grand question out of nerves. It came back to bite you in the butt as the dance’s date was nearing. And here you were: two days before the dance and you still hadn’t asked Vil out yet.

Today had to be the day. You weren’t going to run away. You had no choice. You had been crushing on him for forever and this was truly your last chance of shooting your shot with him. The school year is near its end. Vil would be a fourth year the following year which meant he wouldn’t be on campus, let alone attend school dances as he would be out and about interning and completing his thesis.

You checked the clock before grabbing your shoes off the rack, gingerly slipping them on. You wiggled your toes as you laced them up, lightly tapping your soles against the wooden floor for good measure. It was three thirty on a Wednesday afternoon. Dorm leader meetings ended at two. Vil shouldn’t be too busy now. An hour and a half had passed since the meeting. He surely would have time to kick back and relax. You bit your lip and pushed the door open, welcoming a warm breeze. The door clicked behind you. You inhaled.

“Better late than never,” you reassured yourself as you made your way to the Pomefiore dormitory.

Each step you took sent your thoughts into overdrive. What would he say to you? You were acquainted with one another as you shared a few classes, but you weren’t close to the extent that you were certain that he would say yes. Would he even say yes? If he rejects you, you’d have to see yourself out of his own dorm. Coming to his dorm room to ask him out seemed oddly intimate. It was a bad idea now that you thought about it. Depending on where you found him, there was a chance that the other Pomefiore students would witness you humiliate yourself in front of the Vil Schoenheit.

Your hand ghosted the door knob of the dormitory’s main entrance. It fell to your side. Perhaps this was merely a fickle desire.

Color drained from your face and a cold chill washed over your body as the door swung open. You swallowed a scream, shoving it down your throat.

“Bonjour!” the perpetrator beamed.

“B-Bonjour,” you managed, stepping back.

Rook’s smile widened as he stepped forward, revealing the vice prefect all decked out in Pomefiore’s bright indigo robes. The gold embroidery shimmered beneath the chandelier’s lighting. elegant

“My, to what pleasure do we owe you, (y/n)?”

“We?”

“Oui.”

You blinked.

“I’m looking for Vil,” you said.

“(y/n)? What are you doing here?” a familiar asked.

You peered over Rook’s shoulder. Your breath hitched as your eyes met with Vil’s own amethyst orbs. His heels clicked and clacked with the white marble tiles of the foyer. He was like a runway model. He sparkled, shimmered, and shined under the building’s ambient lighting.

He crossed his arms once he neared the doorway. His vice ducked under his elongated sleeves. A scowl was etched onto Vil’s face.

“Where are you going?”

“I forgot something. I won’t be long, Roi du Poison,” he said, waving his hands around theatrically.

Vil sighed, turning to you, “Pardon him. How can I help you?”

“I was wondering– well, actually I– Um, if it isn’t too much to ask... can we go inside? It’s a bit hot out.”

The blond directed his gaze into the sky, examining the sun and the cloudless sky.

“My apologies, come inside.”

The door shut behind you. You cursed yourself for stalling. Just ask him.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No!”

“No?”

You coughed, “No. I’m good, thank you.”

“Are you sure? It is a bit hot out.”

He used your own words against you. Your mouth was left agap as he flashed a small smile at you before heading into the Pomefiore common room. You hurried after him.

“Wait, Vil!” you exclaimed, pulling on his sleeve.

He withdrew. Your hand fell to your side.

“Don’t pull. What is it?”

You bit your lip. It was now or never. If you played it off cool then who knows when you’ll get a chance like this again. This was the closest you’ll ever get to asking him. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Um, would you like to go to the– uh– dance with me?”

You cringed as your voice echoed throughout the dormitory. You were so nervous that you ended up being more... vocal than you had intended to be. This was far from the scenarios you daydreamed about. It wasn’t as romantic as you thought it would be. In truth, it was embarrassing.

“Ara? Is that what you’re so worked up about?” he chuckled.

Heat rushed to your cheeks.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same or if you already have a date. Knowing you, you probably have a–” you gasped as Vil placed his index on your forehead.

He stared down at you. His stilettos made him so tall, so unnerving.

“Eye contact is the key to confidence. Stand with your shoulders back, feet firmly planted on the ground. Don’t use filler words like ‘um’, ‘uh’, ‘ah’, or anything of the like,” he said as he pushed your upper back forward.

You nodded, holding your screams on the tip of your tongue, trying not to break eye contact with him and burst into tears. Was it that terrible that he had to correct your posture and give you tips on confidence? Vil put his hands on his hips, admiring your figure.

“Try that again,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Ask me out again.”

Was he serious?

“Ah…”

“No filler words,” he chided.

Your nose crinkled. He crossed his arms. He was serious after all. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath once more, trying your best to pay no mind to your sweet palms or shallow breathing. Your nerves were on fire.

“Vil, will you go to the dance with me?”

He put his hand on his chin and hummed, feigning perplexity and concentration. He smiled.

“Yes.”

You sighed in relief. Your shoulders loosened. He said yes. Vil said yes. You were going to the formal together. You were ecstatic, but that feeling was quickly replaced with a burning curiosity.

“Why didn’t you just say yes before?”

“I want to be asked out by someone who is confident, someone who knows what they want. I don’t want someone unsure or insincere. I have no time for puppy love. My time is valuable,” he scoffed.

“Then you should have rejected me.”

“Do you not want to be my date?”

“Yes. Well, I mean– no, of course I do. It’s just that I don’t know what to say and–”

He put a finger to your lips: “Then, it's a date. I do not doubt your feelings for me. You were simply nervous. You were always quite skittish around me. I had always assumed I intimidated you though lately, I’ve come to realize it was more so admiration than intimidation or infatuation.”

Vil tucked your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up, and gave you another one of his heart-throbbing smirks. You couldn’t break eye contact with him. Your heart fluttered and your stomach swelled.

“Was it obvious?”

“Maybe a little,” he laughed.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland oneshot #twst oneshot #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #event fic #night to remember event

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bluboothalassophile · 3 years

Text

Rule of Three

Raven had been left in a bad spot all because of dick. No wait, that was and wasn’t right. Yes, it was because of Dick and dick; fucking dick! She wanted to scream, she wanted to go beat her head against an old iron lamp post or something.

This was New York City! It was hard enough getting a place, getting the lease, the rent and so forth, but now, now she was fucked because of Dick! Oh she was so mad, and if she wasn’t so desperate she’d be actively chewing out Wally and Kori for ditching her and putting her in this pickle to begin with.

It had all been simple really, they’d all been friends at NYU and had decided to go in on an apartment after graduation so they could save some expenses. And it was a splendid idea because, they all just got on fabulously, and they were good friends, so it would be a fine arrangement. Also, they’d all lived together senior year, so this would work in their favor, they knew how to live together. That is until Dick Fucking Grayson came sashaying back into town.

Dick had been Wally’s best friend, and Kori’s true love, and they’d both run to him faster than Raven could say ‘Timbuktu’, leaving her flat on her ass, with a three bedroom apartment she couldn’t afford on her own and only her name on the lease. It made her so mad. The only reason she’d gotten the apartment was because of the three of them she had the best credit score, so… Yeah, she was fucked.

And in an attempt to unfuck herself, she had been interviewing subletters all day, because she was desperate.

Her standards were actually very low at this point, they just couldn’t be serial killers, and they couldn’t work for organized crime. Or be on parole. As Raven had said, her standards were exceptionally, painfully low.

And thus far, all her interviewees were strikes. One was for sure a hitman, the other was probably an addict, the other two were a very incesty vibes set of twins; she didn’t want to know; and then there’d been a for sure runaway who was so not eighteen it was almost funny seeing this kid try to pass for an adult. Raven was loosing hope, she was really loosing hope. After a week of bad interviews she was thinking she’d have to move back to Saugerties with her moms and brother, and that was just going to be the biggest ‘I told you so’ from her aunt. Raven would sell her soul to make the New York dream work, she also might take the hitman as her roommate so she could sic him on Dick fucking Grayson; the dick.

This was her final set of interviews so she might be able to save her ass from moving back to Saugerties and working at the ice cream shop.

“Please don’t be a serial killer, please don’t be a serial killer,” she muttered as she opened her door for the final interviews.

“Oi, Roy! Hurry the fuck up!” a huge man bellowed as he did his tie up.

“I’m here!”

“This is all your fault, so get over here,” the other man ordered.

Raven blinked stupidly as the two hottest men she’d ever seen were standing before her. The first was a massive man, black, curly hair, blue eyes with green rings around then and a smattering of freckles over his nose and cheeks, there was a stubborn white streak in his hair (he looked like Richard Madden who Raven had been crushing on since the Bodyguard). The other guy was a lot leaner, but no less hot; he had long brilliant red hair, sharp features and brilliant green eyes (he looked like Sam Heughan; where the hell did these men get their genetics from!?)

“I can only apologize so many times… and whoa, hey there cutie,” the redhead said with a bright smile. The black haired man shoved the other man’s face back as he looked at Raven.

“Ignore him, he’s an idiot,” he said firmly. “I’m Jason Todd, that’s Roy Harper,” he said with a slight smile, but he kept his face serious.

“Raven Roth,” she said as she shook his hand firmly. “Come in,” she stepped aside and gestured for them to come in. They did, Roy gave her a charming smile, Jason grabbed Roy by the collar and pulled him into the apartment.

“Have a seat, gentlemen,” she said, gesturing to her beat up couch. She took a seat on the barstool as she looked at them. “So… I have just a few basic questions,” she started. “Um… what do you do for a living?”

“I just signed with the Rangers,” Jason stated.

“The Rangers?”

“Jaybird is a hocky defenseman,” Roy smiled.

“Roy here is a pitcher for the New York Yankees. And we’re here because he fucked up and now we’re both on a time crunch, your listing is close enough to where we need to be and far enough away we can be anonymous,” Jason explained.

“It’s not my fault he came back to town!” Roy muttered.

Jason growled lowly as he glared at Roy. “Anyways, we need a place, we don’t smoke, or party, he’s in AA, but I drink, and we keep to ourselves.”

“Oh,” Raven blinked.

“What about you?” Roy asked with a smile.

“I’m working at the library,” Raven explained. “And I’m writing a book, so, there’s that, and I do work for my grandfather, managing his business.”

“Awesome,” Jason nodded.

“So… the rules are simple, I mean I like it quiet and clean, but I don’t want to baby you…”

“Perfect, we don’t need a sitter or a mother,” Jason promised.

“Okay,” Raven nodded.

She asked a few more questions, and they were both happy to answer. She learned Roy was three years sober, Jason was his best friend, they hadn’t ever played a sport in the same city and decided to splurge and room together. They’d been roommates in college. They had had an apartment, but then something had happened, and Jason had decided they needed to be subletters to keep a low profile. Raven was fine with that. When they had discussed the lay out and the apartment, because they were the most normal people she had met with, she had decided to take them up on their offer, because they were willing to cover the apartment so long as she didn’t leak, they lived there. She was fine with that, and when it was all over, she had two roommates.

Jason said he’d make arrangements for their stuff, Roy flirted a bit more with her, which had her blushing a lot before they were gone. Raven shut the door of her apartment feeling a flutter about this, and genuinely excited that she didn’t have to move back to Saugerties.

“Hello?” she answered her phone.

“Raven! I am so sorry I have not been able to call you,” Kori’s voice filled her ear excitedly. “I have spoken to Dick and he would be most pleased if you came to live with us, his brother refuses to move in apparently, so there is a spare room!”

Raven grimaced at the idea of being a fourth wheel and living with a celebrity; Dick Grayson was an Acclaimed Actor in Hollywood afterall and a big heart throb for all the girls. “No, that’s okay, I’ve found someone to sublet,” Raven said.

“Really!?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I am so pleased for you, this will be glorious, Raven!” Kori giggled.

“It’ll be something,” she muttered. “I have to go, my grandfather is calling.”

“I will speak with you soon!” Kori giggled and hung up. Raven just sighed as she leaned on the door. She was feeling all sorts of butterflies and latent attraction thinking about Jason Todd and Roy Harper; they were insanely hot! But they also didn’t seem like bad people, and she was desperately in need of roommates.

She hoped this work, because she needed this to work! Part 2 from @shewhowillnotbenamed1! =) MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

#bluboothalassophile #shewhowillnotbenamed1 #fanfic #raven #jason todd #roy harper #jayrae #royrae #jayraeroy #jayroy #rule of three au #they were roommates

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