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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

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in support of Texas relief, @doilycoffin donated $100, and requested Liam & Cordell Walker. Thank you for donating!

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(read on AO3)

One of Liam's earliest memories is the time Cordell dropped him on his head. Not actually accurate at all to the way it went but that's how it's told in the family mythology. He was really little, three maybe or four—for some reason that part's indeterminate—and Cordell was climbing the stable and playing adventurer, or maybe just showing off and the adventurer part was a good excuse. Liam was following Cordell around like he always did and he tried to climb up, too, on the fence that kept in the horses when they were let out for their run, and Cordell told him no and that he was too little but Liam was determined to try. Cordell climbed back down and tried to steady him where he'd made it up to the top rung of the fence, and Liam lost his balance anyway, and fell straight backwards and landed headfirst on the dirt. There was a little rock and then a lot of blood, and then stitches, and Mama fussing and their dad ripping Cordi a new one—Liam doesn't even remember that it hurt—but the part that sticks it as a memory is how they all rode together in the truck back and forth from the doctor and Cordell held his hand in the backseat and he was crying, the whole way home, a silent seeping kind of crying that made his face a shiny mess. Liam thinks about that weirdly often. Cordi looking out the window and crying.

When the story gets retold for new friends, or the kids, or Cordell's buddies from the Rangers come around for coffee and Mama's pecan pie, they tell it that Cordell's so clumsy he dropped his baby brother on his head. Liam sort of hates it, every time. Cordell laughs and does the aw shucks routine he's so good at, relaxed with his beer and shrugging embarrassed apology. When Liam was about to head off to college, his eighteenth birthday dinner, Daddy told the story again as a kind of miracle survival, and Liam got up from the table real fast and went out onto the porch, annoyed for some reason beyond measure. It was Cordi who got up and came after him and said, a little cautious, "What's up, Stinker?" and Liam said to him, mad, "Why don't you ever tell people it was me? I was the one climbing up after you. It's not like you did it on purpose."

Cordell just blinked at him. "What does it matter?" he said. "You were the baby and I was a dumbass kid. So what?" He hooked his arm around Liam's neck and he smelled like sweat and Old Spice and that laundry detergent Emily bought that wasn't anything like the one they used at home. Liam pushed at his side but didn't try hard to get away. Not that it would've worked. "It's how we figured out how hard that head was, right? Come on. Mama's gonna wonder if you didn't like the brisket."

Liam let himself be dragged back into the house, and Cordi pushed him down into his chair right between him and Emily, and Emily smiled at him easy, and passed him the potatoes. "One month 'til the dorms," she said, very quiet so no one else could hear under Cordell telling some awful lie about Liam having gas, and Liam laughed, surprised, and it just happened that it was the same time everyone else laughed so that was okay. He always liked Emily. Cordell punched his thigh lightly on his other side, and gave him a warmer more real smile, and Liam dropped it, and he didn't complain about the story again.

Seven years between them. Liam always wondered if he was an accident, even if Mama said that with Cordell going to school she was ready to have another baby around the house. Cordell was always the one who was getting into trouble. Rambunctious, loud, falling headfirst into things and getting dragged out covered in mud. Liam learned from his example what not to do. Do not: run along the bleachers at the football stadium and vault the handrails until your foot gets caught and you fall and snap your wrist clean in two. Do not: get caught drinking beer with your high school girlfriend behind the horsebarn, and make Daddy give the most mortifying sex talk in the world afterward. Do not: make friends with the most delinquent-ass kid in the whole hill country and wind up explaining every other week why, really, he wasn't that bad, give him a chance—

Somehow even then he was the golden child. Not the best grades, not the most obedient. That wasn't what their dad cared about. Cordell was good on a horse, good on his feet. Respectful when it mattered and devil-may-care when it didn't. In high school he was the quarterback, of course he was, and Liam was right there in the stands with their parents every Friday night, cheering his lungs out. Weirdly boastful with his fourth-grade friends: his older brother was the star of the football team. His older brother could ride a bull for ten seconds and get off hardly winded. Bookish, kind of short, he needed the borrowed glory of Cordell's success to be proud of. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it got him pushed over on the soccer field while some bigger boy went, gawd, William, who cares?

Liam never got in trouble. Never broke a bone. After bringing Cordell back from the hospital with a fresh new cast on his ankle and a dopey slightly-drugged smile on his face, Mama settled him in bed with Liam's help and turned off the light and then, in the kitchen, sighed and said, "Liam, you are a real relief to the mind, do you know that?" He was proud of that, too, in that moment. It wasn't until later that it nagged at him. A therapist asked him, much later in a sleek Manhattan office that smelled faintly of sage, "Do you think your predilection for being contrarian results from that time?" He went home annoyed with her, and was more annoyed when he told Bret the story and Bret didn't even turn around from the carbonara he was making and said, "Babe, you're the most contrary person I know."

He wasn't. He didn't—think he was. He… was, he realized, after a week of sitting with it, and a week after that it made sense. He didn't pick fights, and he didn't make waves. His rebellion was quiet. His hard head, forcing him to make his own space in the world. Not able to live up to Cordell and knowing instinctively that it would be awful even to try—and so taking the opposite turn, every time. It was better than being compared, even if he knew there was no chance but to be compared.

He studied hard. He read, all the time. He liked math and literature equally and did equally well in both. He hated P.E. but he did what he could there, too, and he learned to ride even if he didn't actually love horses the way the rest of the family did, and when Daddy asked if he wanted to join up with the little league baseball Liam asked to play soccer, instead, and Daddy frowned but Mama said, "Why not, I've seen enough boys drop foul balls for a lifetime." So, soccer, and most of his games were during the day or on Saturday mornings, but Cordi came to a lot of them anyway, and when Liam's team won Cordi would jump down onto the field and grab him up by the waist and crow David Beckham, right here! Little David Beckham for sale! Liam would struggle and then he'd be slung headfirst over Cordell's shoulder like a potato sack and his face would get so red from laughing that it hurt.

On September 12, 2001, Mama and Daddy were gone from the house when Liam got home from school and he was glad for it. That was a Wednesday. He was in sixth grade. The teachers weren't even trying to hold normal lessons and everyone was talking about what had happened the day before. Melissa Kettering was out that day and the rumor was that her dad had been on a business trip in New York. Liam had raised his hand and asked the social studies teacher if there was going to be a war, like there was after Pearl Harbor, and she sat down on her desk and shook her head and didn't answer.

He was trying to read his book for English when the phone rang. Cordell, calling from his apartment in town. Hey, buddy, he said, over the line, and Liam sat down on the floor by the phone table and closed his eyes, unaccountably almost about to cry. Is Daddy there? Liam told him he was home alone. Lucky, Cordi said, you can totally throw a rager, and Liam didn't laugh, and neither did Cordell, even though he always laughed at his own stupid jokes. Hey, um. I shouldn't—I don't know if I should tell you this but I've gotta tell someone, and Em's in class, and I just have to—I did something, and I need to—

He interrupted himself and Liam could hear him breathing over the line. He didn't want Cordell to say anything. If he didn't say anything then Liam could pretend that he was going to tell a story about some party they'd gone to at Emily's sorority, or that Hoyt had come back into town and they'd seen a show at ACL, or that he was gonna come stay that weekend, and maybe he and Liam would go riding. Anything but what he was about to say. Liam could hear it, in his head. He could hear it like it had already been said and it was echoing, now, inside, like a verse from a song he'd always, always remember.

Cordell graduated from the Marine boot camp on a Saturday in the middle of December. Liam went along even if he wasn't allowed to attend the actual ceremony and Daddy complained about the cost of the plane tickets until Mama told him to shut up. Liam sat between them on the flight and it was the first time he was ever in the air. Over the top of Mama's crossword book he watched the clouds go by over New Mexico, Arizona, with complete wonder. San Diego, then, different to Austin—palm trees, and the air so wet, and even the parking lot at their hotel smelling like warm flowers.

Mama gave him fifty dollars before they left for the graduation. They were bringing Cordell back, after, because they got one night with him before they had to give him back to the military. "Order a pizza," she said, "at 4:30 exactly, and we should get back at the same time the pizza comes so we can all eat together." Liam watched American Pie on the hotel tv while he waited, something he would never have been allowed at home. He made the call when he was supposed to, and when the girl on the phone asked him what toppings his mind went completely blank because he was never allowed to make that decision. Cordi liked ham and pineapple and none of the rest of them did. Liam ordered it with extra pineapple.

When a knock came on the hotel room door Liam jumped up to open it, cash in hand. The one holding the pizzas was Cordell, grinning at him with Mama and Daddy standing behind. "Pizza delivery," Cordell said, and Liam crashed into him for a hug so hard that Cordi almost dropped the boxes and said whoa, Stinker, soft and laughing.

His hair was cut off, an inch on top and shorter on the sides, so he looked like those pictures of their grandpa when he was in Korea. He was skinny, too, which Liam didn't get, because he thought boot camp was all about building up muscles. "Mostly running," Cordi said. He was tired, dark circles under his eyes. He was stretched out on one bed with his strange starched blue pants and the awful khaki shirt that made him look washed-out pale even if he'd been running around San Diego for thirteen weeks, and Mama was sat next to him squeezing his arm like he'd evaporate if she looked away for a minute, and even Daddy was hovering. Proud but worried. Liam sat by Cordell's boots and tugged on the laces, wanting to ask more questions but not daring to.

Cordi fell asleep before six o'clock. Daddy turned on the television real quiet to the news. More stuff about the invasion. Liam hoped it'd be all over by the time Cordi got there. Mama boxed up the remaining pizza, shaking her head. "Don't know why you picked pineapple, kiddo," she said, and Liam shrugged, sitting at the table, watching Cordell's face, turned away a little on the pillow. Liam wanted to shake him awake but of course he didn't. For his whole life, after, he gets a little sick to his stomach when he smells pineapple.

While Cordell was in Afghanistan Mama and Daddy had Emily over to the house a lot. She was sweet. Respectful of Mama, calling her ma'am half the time, and charming to their dad even though Liam knew that she and Daddy probably disagreed on more than things than not. She liked that Liam played soccer and asked if he ever watched the Premiere League. Liam didn't even know what that was. She helped Mama cook supper and went out and took pictures of the horses which made Daddy smile, and one time when Liam went outside after dinner to read she was there crying, on the porch, quiet with her hand over her mouth, and Liam hung back and didn't know what to say. "Sorry," she said, dashing at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. She licked her lips and nodded at his book, sniffing. "That's a good one. You should read the sequel, too." He did, and told her about it, and she smiled like a sunrise, the way she always did, and he felt like—he didn't even know, what he felt like.

Liam was the best man at their wedding. He felt and looked ridiculous. Fifteen in a tux and he didn't know how to tie a bow-tie, but Cordi didn't either, so Daddy had to do it for both of them, grumbling the whole time that they should've learned this by now. "Not a lot of bowties in Kandahar, Daddy," Cordell said, winking at Liam, and Liam—blushed. Ridiculous, and embarrassing, the way the whole affair and the lead-up had felt, but Cordell didn't seem to care or notice, so—there was Liam, blushing in a bowtie.

Cordell had only been back for a year and somehow things were off. He was serving the rest of his contract out in the reserves but he wasn't finishing up his degree like he'd told Mama he would. He'd entered the training program for the state troopers and was set up to be a highway cop, of all things. He'd rented a house in Austin with Emily and they lived together the whole year before the wedding—an argument with Daddy about that one, which Liam listened to from the hallway with his heart pounding—and they weren't even going to be married in the church because Emily didn't want a wedding mass and, Liam suspected, Cordell didn't either. Daddy lost that argument, too.

The wedding was tiny. Liam the best man, Geri the maid of honor. Emily's aunt that raised her on one side and Daddy and Mama on the other, and a handful of Cordell and Emily's friends making up the numbers in the little rented hall. Afterward they had a bigger barbecue out at the ranch and in front of the crowd Emily fed Cordell a dainty forkful of the lemon cake and Cordell responded by dotting a tiny bit of frosting on her nose and kissing it off, and Mama's best friend Sue-Ellen sighed and said to Mama, where Liam could hear, "Well, Abilene, maybe they're atheists but I daresay you raised that boy right every other way," and Mama said something dry back but Liam was watching how Cordell cupped Emily's cheek in his hand, smiling down at her like she hung the moon, and he thought, yeah. Yeah, Cordell was just about perfect, wasn't he.

"High school in the fall, right?" Emily's aunt said, later. "Emily says you play soccer. Going to try out for the team?"

Cordell and Emily were dancing, swaying in the grass, the bonfire leaping up behind them. His hand still on her cheek. "I'm quitting soccer," Liam said, without even realizing he was going to. "I'm going to try out for wrestling, instead."

He figured out he was gay relatively early. His friends at school got hold of a Playboy in fifth grade and didn't really know what to do with it beyond blustering. This was before anyone but nerds was on the internet, and Liam was a nerd but did a decent job of hiding it. Scott beckoned Liam over while they were waiting for the buses and showed him the top of the magazine, the bold logo and the girl with her boobs pushing up out of her bra—the group of them snickering, saying how hot she was—and that they were going to look at it at Scott's house later if Liam wanted to come over—and Liam said, "No, my mom's making me go to the store with her." The lie came out effortlessly.

They did have a computer at home, and dial-up internet it had been very, very hard to argue Daddy into. He hardly knew how to find anything but he did some careful searches while Daddy was out with the horses and Mama was cooking, singing bad over the stove like she tended to. Made Liam's face hot to see some of what he was seeing. Hoyt came over, once, while Cordi was away in the war, and he helped Liam and Mama dig out a bunch of tomatoes that hadn't grown in right, and afterward they sat on the porch drinking lemonade while Mama asked Hoyt all about the oil field he said he'd been working in and Liam watched how Hoyt's legs sprawled out on the porch, how his jeans hugged up against his calf muscle and how the sweat had made his white shirt nearly transparent, and he had to sit very careful on the bench with his knees drawn up to hide the effect it had on him.

When Cordell came home from Afghanistan they threw a huge party. Everyone came, Daddy's friends and Mama's, and Emily and their friends from college, and even Hoyt, magicked up out of somewhere (for the promise of free beer, Daddy said), and then Liam, the youngest person there, watching from the corner of the porch as always. Cordi was very tan and finally bulky with muscle and his hair had grown out, just a little, from that military buzz, and he barely detached himself from Emily the whole time, his arm always around her shoulders or hers around his waist, and when they did step apart his eyes followed her and she watched him right back, smiling at the most random times. Liam was fourteen and a little more aware of the world and he wondered abruptly if they'd had sex yet. Cordi had only been home one day and he'd slept at the ranch and not at Emily's apartment. How would they have found the time?

He was chewing his thumbnail over it when a sweaty weight crashed down on his shoulders, arms trapping his in. Hoyt. "Hey there, Stinker," Hoyt said, and Liam shrugged fretfully and said, "Don't call me that," and Hoyt laughed at him but stood up and ruffled Liam's hair completely backwards instead.

"Still pretty shrimpy," he said. He was grinning, like he had some big secret. "You planning on growing up anytime soon, champ?"

"Don't you have a sketchy job to get to?" Liam said, annoyed. He tried to fix his hair and gave it up as a lost cause the second Hoyt's grin got bigger. Asshole.

Hoyt sipped his beer. Twenty-one—he was allowed, although Liam had noticed that Mama was being a little free with handing out drinks to Emily's college friends. "Glad big bro's home, I bet," Hoyt said.

Liam didn't dignify that with a response. Hoyt laughed, under his breath, and held out the beer for Liam to take, which he did because he didn't know what else to do. "Go on," Hoyt said, nodding at it. "I won't tell your mama. Not fair that everyone else gets to celebrate while little Liam's sober. And boring."

"I'm not boring," Liam said, although he knew he was because half the kids at school clearly thought so. He took a sip of the beer, anyway, not knowing if Hoyt would snatch it away. Nasty, and he made a face that made Hoyt hoot, and then he took a bigger gulp, determined at least to get something out of it.

"There he goes," Hoyt said, weirdly delighted, and he clapped Liam on the shoulder the same way he would Cordi when they were in high school, and the bit of warm in Liam's belly went lower. "That's a welcome home."

Liam kept the beer, curled against his chest. He felt dumb holding it and also weirdly adult. "He's not even here," he said. Sort of scoffing. "Doesn't matter."

Hoyt curled his arm around Liam's shoulders again and ignored how he went stiff, and nodded out at the party. Music playing from a radio Daddy had set up on a truck-bed. Emily and Cordell, dancing in the firelight. Same as it would be for the wedding reception a year from then, although of course Liam didn't know that at the time. "Aw, he's here," Hoyt said. He squeezed Liam's shoulders. He smelled strange, like—skunk, and Mama's compost bin. It was gross but also kind of appealing and Liam shifted, hoping his dumb body wouldn't react. "He's just with his girl, and who could blame him. No call for getting jealous."

He wasn't jealous. Not—exactly. That night after Mama and Daddy went to bed the party kept on, and Liam went to his room and watched from the dark window, the bonfire still going and all the college kids still going, too. When he finally fell asleep he had a strange, blurry dream about Hoyt—building a bonfire together, and Hoyt smiling at him and being a jackass and then touching his face, the same way Cordell touched Emily's face, and then Hoyt touching his stomach, low—and then the dream shifted, the weird way dreams shift, and it was Cordell, touching his stomach, and smiling at him, and leaning in close—with his hair longer like it was before he enlisted—but wearing for some reason the dumb khaki shirt of his uniform—and then Cordell's hand—

When he woke up he was soaked and it was bright morning. He washed his underwear out in the sink, feeling like his head was screwed on to someone else's body, and then he hid the underwear in the hamper, and showered, and tried not to think about it. He had that dream or one like it on and off for years, until he finally lost his virginity to Michael in college and it went away. He never told his therapist about it, or Bret, or anyone. He could rationalize it but he couldn't ever acknowledge it out loud because of what it—felt like, to think about it. To make it real in a place that wasn't just his stupid, crazy, dreaming head.

He had the dream again the night before he came out to his parents. January 2nd, trying out his new year's resolution of honesty. He figured in a ruthless sort of way that if his parents kicked him out or hated him or tried to change him then at least he had early acceptance at UT for the fall and a full scholarship and it was just eight months where his life would be completely over.

Cordell was at home on the ranch and Liam figured that's what triggered it. A couple days of vacation, since he'd worked over Christmas, and he and Emily and baby Stella had stayed up for ringing in the new year, and everyone had taken turns kissing Stella's forehead when midnight struck. Liam had been allowed a glass of champagne, Mama not even fussing about it since it was a holiday and the house was full—so he had two glasses—and when he went to bed he could still hear Cordell laughing from the front room, telling Daddy some story about a bust on the highway, something about stolen Santa suits, something light.

He dreamed they were swimming, up at the lake, and Cordell was naked. Laughing, that same too-loud booming laugh, but just because he was happy and not like he was making fun. Being kind to Liam. Holding him from behind with his arms around Liam's chest, their legs slipping together in the water. Liam could imagine what it would be like for a man to do something to him, he'd seen porn by that point, and he'd seen Cordell naked too because of the vagaries of living in an old house without a lock on the bathroom door, but somehow there was still a disconnect in his head. He was turned on beyond belief but nothing—happened, just the vagueness of Cordell behind him. His big hands.

Mama took Emily and the baby in to town, that day, for shopping. Daddy said they'd just bought half of Macy's and Mama shushed him so Daddy was up at the barn, checking over the new foal. Liam sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched birds come to the new feeder Mama had got from Emily and he tried to rehearse it, in his head. What to say. He'd seen it in movies but it didn't feel possible to come out of his mouth.

Cordell sat by him, on the bench swing. "Since when do you drink coffee?" he said. Then, less casual: "Is that my mug?"

"Yes," Liam said, and didn't protest when Cordell took it out of his hands. He rubbed his palms on his jeans. He had a hard time talking to Cordi after he had one of those dreams and so it was a relief that most of the time Cordell wasn't around, that he was in town at the house he shared with his wife. With his wife, Liam reminded himself, as though that could help. Another thing to make Liam different. Wrestling instead of football, reading books instead of riding, and now—this, on top of everything.

"Whatever's going on," Cordell said. Liam blinked, came back to the world. The cold, and the swing barely rocking from how Cordi had set his boot on the porch and pushed, and Cordell looking at him very steadily. "You know you can tell me, right?"

Liam swallowed. "Even if it's—" Bad is what came to his mouth and he shook his head. He prayed about this, he resolved. It's not bad. "Weird?"

"If it weren't weird you probably wouldn't be being so weird about it," Cordi said, frank, and Liam shoved his shoulder. The dream dissipated just like that. How could he possibly be crushing on his brother when his brother is this much of a jerk. Cordell swayed, grinning, letting Liam push him even if Cordell outweighed him then by fifty pounds, but then he set his hand on the back of Liam's neck, more serious. "Whatever it is. We can figure it out."

Liam licked his lips, and nodded. He knew then that was going to tell Cordell the one secret, if not the whole of it, before they left the porch that morning, and Cordi would—back him up, with Mama and Daddy, even if he didn't get it. "Give me back the coffee," he said, and Cordell raised his eyebrows but passed it back, so Liam could take a gulp. The caffeine probably wouldn't help but maybe it wouldn't hurt, and it felt nice to hold the mug. "Promise you won't freak," Liam said then, even if he was—mostly, ninety percent, pretty sure—and Cordell said, immediately, "I promise," and Liam believed him. That was the thing, with Cordell, in those days. It was easy to believe him.

It's Mama who calls, when Emily dies. Liam's already in bed because he's got court in the morning and Bret shoves at his shoulder, says, "Oh my god answer it and then change your ringtone, I hate that song," and Liam's still fuzzy from sleep and doesn't quite process that there's no good reason Mama would be calling him after nine o'clock in Texas because she always thought that was bad manners, it had been drilled into him all his life, and he says, mumbly, still waking up, "Hey, Mama," and there's a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line before she says, Honey, I'm sorry, but I have real bad news.

He flies out the next day. Bret tries to dissuade him. "There's nothing you can do right now," he says, as though that's the point. JFK to Austin-Bergstrom is four and a half hours and he spends the whole time with his chest this weird achy knot. It doesn't feel real but it is. He texted Mama his flight plan and she says that Daddy will pick him up at the airport, and when he gets into the truck Daddy shakes his head and says, "Good to see you, son," but without any truth to it. Liam doesn't take it personally.

Cordell's not at the ranch when they get there but the kids are. "Hi, Uncle Liam," Stella says, remarkably clear, until he hugs her, and then she curls his hands into his shirt and cries silently, her shoulders shaking. August doesn't get up from the couch, sitting there with one arm crossed over his chest and the other over his mouth, and he looks—Liam's always shocked by it—so exactly like his mother. Stella's a copy of her grandmother, to the point that Mama set her prom picture side by side with Stella's first dance photo and the only real difference was the dress—but Auggie always took after Emily, from coloring to temperament to those long straight eyebrows, that mouth that curves up into a wide, easy smile. Not smiling now, and not for a while, and when Stella pulls away and wipes her eyes Liam sits down next to Auggie and sets his hand on the back of his neck and Auggie just folds over, quiet, like whatever was holding him up just isn't there anymore.

"Where is he?" Liam asks Mama, in the kitchen later. The sun's going down. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours.

Mama's eyes are red-rimmed. "Where do you think?" she says.

Liam takes the truck. Lady Bird Lake is officially closed at night but of course that makes no difference. He parks and walks, up to the lookout, and Cordell doesn't hear him coming. He's sitting on the steps to the gazebo, his elbows braced on his knees. The light hitting his hair. Long again. Liam doesn't know how he's always skirting regs and getting away with it, except of course Cordi gets away with everything. Golden child.

He regrets the thought as soon as he has it. "Cordi," he says, and Cordell looks up in complete surprise. Liam smiles at him, as much as he can, and comes and sits on the step. He tries to think of what to say and can't come up with anything.

"Aren't you in court tomorrow?" Cordell says, after they sit there for thirty seconds. His voice sounds thick and distant.

Liam shakes his head. "Today," he says, and Cordell nods and huffs and says, "Right," and then looks down at his hands again. They're twisted together, his thumb rubbing hard and repeatedly at the mount of his other palm. Liam reaches over and puts his hand over the knot of Cordell's fingers and Cordell's jaw flexes but he lets Liam do it. "I'm sorry," Liam says.

"Everyone is," Cordell says, halfway bitter. Liam squeezes his hands and Cordell makes a rough low noise, some sound Liam has never heard him make. "Jesus. They won't let me go in to work."

"Of course they won't," Liam says, and Cordell pulls his hands away, pushes them into his hair. "Cordi, they have to—they're going to be looking for who did it and it has to be by the books so it'll stick. They're not going to risk screwing it up."

"I just want to—" Cordell cuts himself off but Liam can imagine what goes there. He touches Cordell's back instead and the muscle flinches. Set to fly off the handle any second. Fight or flight, but Cordell never used to run from anything and Liam can't imagine he's going to start now.

He stands up. "Wrestle me," he says.

Cordell looks up. "What?"

Genuine surprise. At least it's not misery. "Come on," Liam says. "See if you can pin me." These jeans are nice, were a gift from Bret, but he'll sacrifice them. He holds out a hand and Cordell lets himself be pulled upright, and it's a shock like it always is when Liam's been too long away, how much taller Cordi still is. Liam always was the shrimp. He pushes Cordell's chest, lightly, and Cordell slaps his hands away. "Cordi," Liam says, coaxing, and pulls at Cordell's wrist. "Let me take your mind off it."

Stupid thing to say and he knows it as soon as he says it. Cordell gives him an ugly look and shoves him for real. "Take my mind off it?" he says, while Liam's staggering backwards. Liam sets his boots in the dirt and braces, and when Cordell pushes him again Liam grapples, and they are wrestling, then. It's sloppy, bad holds, both of them in too-slick boots for this ground. Liam manages to swing Cordell around and get his back on the ground but Cordi's always been stronger and shoves him off, and then they're just—flat-out scrambling, Liam's hand sinking into a patch of mud and both of them breathing hard, Cordell twisting out of his grip and getting an arm over his chest, tight, before Liam eels over and flips them—gets Cordell on his back on the dirt—his leg over Cordell's—and then Cordi drops his head back against the ground and taps out, panting.

"You been practicing?" Cordell says. His eyes are closed.

Liam sits up, says, "Class at my gym." Cordi nods and Liam gets off him, kneels next to him in the dirt. The gazebo's bright and the skyline's pretty, on the other side of the lake. Liam looks at that instead of at his brother, so he won't have to see the tears seeping down Cordell's temples, wetting his hair.

"It's not okay," Liam says. He sets a hand on Cordell's chest. At the DA's office in Manhattan he's comforted widows, widowers, orphans. Some of them seeking justice but most of them knowing it won't really be found. Cordell, he thinks, is one of the latter type, but Liam tries out the lines he's learned anyway. "It's not okay and it's not fair. I can't pretend I know what you're going through but I'm sorry." He swallows, his throat trying to close without his say-so. "Jesus. I'm so sorry, Cordi."

"Yeah," Cordell says, rough, and grips Liam's wrist. When Liam looks down Cordell's eyes are still closed. They stay there for a while, by the lake, long past when it's uncomfortable.

When they finally get up, Liam's knees creak like an old man's but Cordell doesn't make the joke he should. He leaves Cordell's truck and drives them both back into town, and gets drive-through Whataburger that Cordell picks at instead of eating, and says, "Do you want to go back to the ranch?" and isn't surprised when Cordell shakes his head, no. They get a hotel instead, two queens and a respectable mini-bar, and Liam calls Mama from next to the ice machine in the hall and says that he's got Cordell, and they're fine, and they'll be back in the morning. She clearly wants to object but doesn't know how and Liam hangs up before she can figure it out.

He gets back, with the ice. Cordell's sitting on the end of the bed watching the news like it's the Superbowl. "I was thinking about the funeral," Cordell says, when the door closes behind Liam. "I have to plan the funeral and I don't even have her body."

Liam sets the bucket on the bar and sits on the other bed. "We'll help," Liam says. Cordell's cheek sucks in on one side. "You don't have to do any of this alone."

"Yeah," Cordell says, remote, and Liam looks at him. Weird hollowness in his stomach and he realizes only after a second why: it's the first time, all his life, that he can remember Cordell lying to him.

The Rodeo Kings operation is supposed to be quick. Three months, is the estimate: to get in, to learn the operation, to get out. They need an agent who can be convincingly skilled as a traveling rider, who knows a ranch operation, who can act. There's a depressingly short list and one name at the top of it. Everyone thinks it's a bad idea except for Graves, and Cordell.

"It'll give me something to think about that's not this," Cordell says, when Liam's trying to talk him out of it. They're on the back patio of his and Emily's house in town. The kids are still staying out at the ranch. It's two weeks after the funeral and they haven't gone back to school. Cordell hasn't shaved in a few days and the sound as he scratches his jaw is loud. There's no music playing from the kitchen window, like there used to be. The plants out here are already dying. Liam wants to grip Cordell's shoulders, get in his face and yell, but doesn't dare to. He gets a deep sigh, instead, and Cordell flipping a poker chip between his fingers like a restless card shark, and then a smile, fake as fake. "Anyway, who do you know who can ride a bull better than me?"

"No one," Liam says, and Cordell nods, like damn straight, and in the morning Liam goes in to the Travis County DA and announces he'd like to transfer offices, due to a family emergency that's going to keep him here in Texas, and it's only afterward when some calls are made and the paperwork's signed that he calls Bret, back in Manhattan, and leaves a voicemail that he's going to be staying a lot longer than he thought.

It isn't three months. As the operation drags on, Liam sweet-talks his way into being one of the assistant attorneys on the case and he tries to alleviate how Graves is getting more and more suspicious. Cordell's old partner James gets promoted to captain, six months in, and he vouches for Cordell, too, not that it seems to matter either way. Cordell's the one who's embedded with the rodeo and he'll either finish the job or he won't. They don't have another agent to send in, not without compromising the work that's been done so far, and nothing else will do but to wait.

The kids ask Liam for updates every week when he comes for dinner at the ranch. "I can't tell you everything," he says, like he does every time, and Daddy's quiet at the head of the table, and Mama quieter on the opposite side. Cordell has a rendezvous every Monday when the rodeo takes the day off with a burner cell phone and an agent waiting impatiently for his call, and his reports are terse: still trying to get them to trust me. They're suspicious of newcomers. The ring seems really tight and I can't figure out an opening. Give me time. He's allowed to call Liam the same day and Liam answers every unknown number on Mondays, giving hope to spam callers nationwide. Cordell usually sounds tired but he still calls and they have a dumb, simple conversation—about how the Rangers beat the Angels, how he's breaking in some new boots and has a blister the size of Indiana, how he's craving, inexplicably, sushi. "Sushi?" Liam asks, trying to imagine when Cordell ever tried it, and Cordi says, with rare humor, "Hey, I'm not a big fancy New York lawyer but I've had my share of raw fish," and when Liam hands the phone over to the kids they lean over the speakerphone and talk over the top of each other about a class project Stella did, and a history paper Auggie got an A+ on, and Liam watches with his hand over his mouth for the moment when Cordell has to interrupt and say, tired-sounding still, "Sorry, guys, I have to go," and the goodbyes have to be quick, and then that's it, for another week.

The first time Liam sees him when he's Duke it's a shock to the system. Seven months in and the reporting agent says that Walker missed his check-in. Walker—that's what they all call him, even when Liam's in the room with them. There's a small frenzy in the operation office. Graves calls for Cordell's head, predictably at this point. James, trying again to calm her down, but looking a little like he agrees. Liam leaves the office unnoticed and walks outside to feel cold air on his face and feel less—how he feels—and there's a text, on his phone, from an unknown number. The Alibi, Driskill ST, thirty minutes. Come alone.

Ridiculously illicit. Liam takes off his suit-jacket and tie and ruffles his hair into something unprofessional and goes. It's hard to park—Monday night football—and inside is the opposite of his scene but he finds a seat at the bar. A girl in a too-tight orange t-shirt gives him a once-over and he smiles tightly, ignores her, drinks a watery beer, and almost exactly on the thirty-minute mark someone sits down next to him and it's—not his brother.

Duke Culpepper was the fake name they picked. Originally from Texas but had some misdemeanors that made Texas unfriendly so he'd been hiding out in Tucson for a few years, working the rodeo there. Not dangerous but willing to get up to something that was, and he looks the part. He smells like sweat and horse manure and hay and some shitty, awful aftershave, and there's a bruise on his jaw like someone suckerpunched him, and he doesn't look at Liam but smiles sweet at the bartender and says, with a fake low drawl, "Darlin', I wouldn't mind a shot of bourbon, when you have a chance."

Jesus, Liam thinks. The bartender has an expression like Cordell slid a hand down the front of her jeans and made her the happiest woman alive—the shot takes about ten seconds to arrive, when Liam's been waiting for a second beer for five minutes. Cordell knocks it back in one motion and says, "Again, and—" and he turns, like he noticed Liam for the first time, "another round for my friend, here. We're celebratin'."

She blinks, notices Liam's empty glass. While the next round's being prepared Liam raises his eyebrows and plays his part. "What are we celebrating?"

"Got a new job," Cordell says—but no—it's Duke, who's saying it, Duke who's drawling lazy and has his hat cocked at an off-angle and who's got a bandana tied around his wrist which for some goddamn reason is working the whole, hot-ass look.

"Congrats," the bartender says, and Duke grins wide and winks at her and downs the second shot, letting out a little whoop. "Another?"

"Better make it a double this time, sweetheart," Duke says, and Liam puts his hand on the warm lean stretch of thigh knocking against his under the bar and squeezes, very lightly, a warning, and sees Cordell's eyes tighten just slightly, and sees how his shoulders round out, like he's ready to get in a fight. Cordell takes a deep breath and toasts the bartender, but turns to look at Liam, face a grinning glad mask. "Got a new girl, too. Real pretty."

The bartender's disappointment would be funny, any other time. "Your lucky day, then, huh?" Liam says. Cordell's knee presses hard into his under the bar. "Girl got a name?"

"Miss Twyla Jean," Cordell says, almost crooning it, and Liam raises his eyebrows—he thought they had embarrassing Texas names—and then Cordell downs the double-shot, grimacing at the sting, and then says, much quieter so that only Liam can hear: "All it took was me making it eleven seconds on a bull and she took me straight to bed."

Liam takes a deep breath. Cordell's jaw flexes, in the silence, and he puts the empty shot glass on the bar. "Thanks for celebrating with me," he says, and slides off the barstool, backwards. He grips Liam's shoulder so hard that it actually hurts. "Gotta get back. Job won't do itself."

"Godspeed," Liam says, toasting with his beer, and Cordell gives him a tight smile and tugs his cap and walks out of the bar, taking with him the smell of the stables and his too-tight jeans and this sensation under Liam's gut that's murky and dangerous, unsettled. His shoulder hurts. It's only after he's written down Twyla Jean's name and texted it to James, and gone home to the apartment where Bret's still bitching about the décor, and taken a shower, and pressed his forehead against the cold tile, that he realizes that Cordell was wearing a fucking Texas Rangers cap. The absolute bastard.

The night he hears from Cordell again he has a fight with Bret. The same fight, worked over the same way. Bret hates Texas. He hates being away from his friends. He hates the politics and the food and how Liam's always with his family. He doesn't want to go to family dinner at the ranch because he's sure Liam's dad hates him. "He doesn't hate you," Liam says, for the fifth time, but to be honest he's not sure. Daddy never seems to like Bret that much, either. Cordi's never met him and Liam wonders, like he's wondered many times, if they'd get along, at all. Wonders if that'd be a dealbreaker and then wonders, washing dishes while Bret watches MSNBC in chilly silence, if the fact that he's wondering if it would be a dealbreaker makes it a dealbreaker, after all.

The text comes as a relief. Annunziata's. He dresses down more carefully than the first time. It's a weird spot, on the outskirts of town where it feels less like Austin than like a suburb. Karaoke and Italian food and mostly-fake cowboys slapping their knees to the absolutely horrific song being sung—very suburb. And there, at a table right by what passes for a stage: Cordell. But, no: Duke, Duke Culpepper, with his arm slung around the shoulders of Twyla Jean and his lips on her ear, grinning, wild. It catches Liam's breath like it did the first time. Duke, confident in his body and happy and having a good time, easy. Hot. Jesus, Liam doesn't get how it's so hot.

He waits in the backroom and watches Cordell shoves his face into the water. It's disturbing how panicked he is, once he's Cordell again and not Duke. "You have to," he's saying—babbling—"You have to tell them, they're going to kill people, you can't let them go through with it—" but of course that's not either of their decision and Liam can't help. It's awful, an awful awful feeling. His big brother looking to him for an answer he can't give. Cordell pushes his hair back from his face and puts his hat back on and looks miserable but he goes back, he sits right back down with that girl and lets her slide her hand down his thigh up the inseam of his jeans and Liam watches from the corner of the bar, where he won't be seen, drinking a beer he doesn't want, seeing his brother be someone who's not his brother. Maybe someone his brother could have been. They're going to sleep together, tonight. Liam knows it. They've been fucking for three months. Is it easy, he wonders. It shouldn't be, for Cordell, but maybe for Duke it is.

He goes home to Bret and wakes him up, and apologizes for the earlier fight, and kisses him, and gets Bret on his belly, and fucks him that way, a little hard, kissing the back of his neck, making Bret gasp and flinch and groan, delighted. "Where did that come from," Bret says, lazy and satisfied, and when he falls asleep Liam takes a shower and then only then calls James, from the hall outside their apartment door, leaning with his forehead against the wall. The bank location has been obvious since Cordell reported about Twyla Jean; the only thing that wasn't certain was the time. It'll be fine, James says, firm, and hangs up on Liam to coordinate with the rest of the team now that Agent Walker has finally come back in from the cold, and Liam stands there with his eyes closed in the hall and thinks, yes. Yes, it'll be fine.

After the bank—after the clean-up—Graves debriefs Cordell for a long time. It borders on unlawful interrogation at a certain point but Liam doesn't dare intervene when she's this furious—he can't risk being taken off the case. It takes James making a call to her supervisor at the field office, who then calls her and pulls her out of the room, for Cordell to be given a reprieve, and Liam goes in to the conference room and finds Cordell still in the stupid black hoodie stained with Crystal West's blood, his head in his hands, breathing with his mouth open like he can't get enough air.

"Cordi," Liam says, and Cordell shakes his head. Liam licks his lips and checks the hall. No one's guarding them—they wouldn't, because Walker's one of their own—and he says, "Get up." Cordell looks up at him, finally. "Come on, quick before she gets back. Come with me."

Cordell follows him. Down the hall, left to go through the atrium instead of the bullpen, then through the glass doors to the hall to, at last, the men's room, and Cordell stands in the middle of the tile blinking until Liam nods at the sinks and says, "Do it."

He's sloppier about it, this time. His hair hangs dripping in front of his face. He pushes it off his forehead and looks up at himself, in the mirror, panting a little. Water drips off his nose.

Liam brings him paper towels and he dries his face. "You should take that off," Liam says, and Cordell looks down at his clothes like he has no idea what he's wearing and only just realized, and tears off the hoodie in an awkward tangle. Underneath his t-shirt is black so Liam can't tell if it's stained. The big silver cross swings from his neck.

"What happened," Cordell says. A croak.

"Graves didn't tell you?" Liam says, and then bites his tongue. Obviously not. "Clint and Crystal are both dead. Clint at the bank. Crystal crashed the car. They think she passed out. Blood loss." Cordell nods, tight, looking away. These are his friends, Liam reminds himself. These are the people he knew, the only people he really talked to, for almost a year. "Two more people died at the bank. Twyla wasn't there and we don't have information to tie her to the job. I don't know where Jaxon is but we have people looking. They're still trying to recover the stolen money."

"Graves did tell me that much," Cordell says, and turns around, leaning his ass against the sink. It's slowly draining, behind him. "I think she wants to arrest me since she can't arrest them."

"I think so, too," Liam says, and Cordell smiles a little. He looks like he hasn't slept all year. "You did your job. It's over."

"It's not over," Cordell says, immediately. He drags his hand through his hair. "Graves made that clear. The money's still missing and Twyla and Jax are in the wind."

"And Duke's being sent to jail," Liam says. "So his part in the Rodeo Kings gang is over."

Cordell wipes his fingers over his mouth. He's still wearing that bandana around his wrist. Liam wants to take it off of him. Throw it away, burn it. "Duke Culpepper, common criminal," Cordell says, drawling it a little.

"Never liked him anyway," Liam says, and Cordell smiles, dropping his head. Liam touches his shoulder, grips his neck. "Hey. Means you get to come home. The kids will be over the moon."

"Yeah," Cordell says. He brackets a loose hand around Liam's wrist and nods. "Yeah. Can't wait."

His smile faded, as soon as Liam said it. Liam thinks about that, for that whole night, and for the whole next day, after, when James tells him that Cordell put in for one week's leave. "You talked to him?" Liam says, and James shakes his head, says, "He called Connie. I think he still doesn't even know I'm the captain."

He tells Mama and Daddy that Cordell will be home next Wednesday. Stella's frowning, not eating her dinner. "I saw that bank robbery on the news," she says. Auggie's big-eyed, watching, next to her. "Was that Dad's big case?"

"It was," Liam says, and Auggie's eyes get bigger. "But there's a debriefing period. We need to make sure his undercover identity doesn't have any loose ends that'll tie him back to his real one."

Daddy's eyes narrow and Mama's quiet. Liam got pretty good at lying, over the years, but he never was quite able to fool them.

He calls Cordell the next day. "Tell me where you are," he says, and Cordell doesn't answer for a long moment, letting the silence stretch out over the cell line. Liam considers it a victory that he even answered the phone.

He has a room at the Fairmont, on the fifteenth floor. Liam knocks and it's a minute before the door opens. Cordell's in bare feet, jeans, an ACL t-shirt. Liam follows him in and the room is—nicer than Liam's current apartment, that's for sure. King bed, outstanding view. "Wow," Liam says, and Cordell says, "Better than the Super 8 in Kermit," sort of sarcastic, and then sits down on the bed like he can't stand up anymore.

Liam doesn't sit. He doesn't think he's really invited, even if Cordell let him in the door. "I told them next Wednesday," he said. "Mom and Dad, and the kids. A week. Do you think that'll be enough time?"

"Honestly?" Cordell says, and doesn't elaborate.

There's a table, with four chairs, like a dining area. On it a box, like one of the evidence boxes from the office. Liam walks over and tips back the lid and: there's Duke Culpepper. The striped shirt he wore when Liam met him at Annunziata's. That was—god, only three days ago. A plastic bottle of aftershave. The cross necklace. The gun. Liam picks it up and checks the revolving chamber—that one bullet, still ready. It makes him nauseous just like it did the first time.

"I know you're probably not okay," Liam says. Understatement, he thinks, of the century. He closes the box and pushes it away, toward the center of the table. When he turns around Cordell's holding the beer in one hand and playing with a poker chip, in the other. "I know you're going to need some time. But when you're done, we need you back. The kids, and Mom and Dad. And me."

"C'mon, you don't need anybody, Stinker," Cordell says, with the barest thread of levity. "You climb right up to the top of the barn all by yourself, when no one's around to stop you."

Liam pauses, confused by the subject change. Surprised, then. "You were there for that?" he says, and Cordell shrugs, one corner of his mouth lifting.

When Liam was eleven, and Cordell was at college, and the world hadn't yet turned over on its head. It was early August and his school hadn't started, and Daddy and Mama had gone over to the feed store to pick up a truckload for the horses. He was bored, and tired of reading, and he'd gone out to the barn and looked up at it and thought about how Cordell had done it, at his age or maybe even younger, and if Cordell could then Liam could, too, if he set his mind to it. It wasn't even all that hard, once he was looking careful for the places to set his feet. He sat down on the top of the barn and looked out over the ranch—and further, over the where the road into the ranch pushed out into the hills, down toward the town. He wondered how far he could really see, to the horizon.

"Swung by to pick up my football stuff," Cordell says, now. "Em parked on the other side of the house and I didn't think anyone was home, until I looked out the back. You were up there just—taller than anything." He shrugs. "See? Didn't need my help after all."

"I wouldn't have climbed it if you hadn't dropped me on my head," Liam says, and Cordell snorts, shakes his head. Liam bites the inside of his cheek and crouches, and Cordell's forced to look at him or be ridiculous and so Cordell looks at him. Liam reaches out and gets his hand, the hand with the poker chip, and squeezes it, and Cordell swallows and squeezes back. The edges of the plastic bite into Liam's hand. "Come back," he says.

Cordell takes a deep breath. "I will," he says. "I promise, Liam."

Liam stands up and hugs him, around the shoulders, and walks out of the room. He takes the elevator back to the lobby and steps out into the sunshine, and takes a deep breath, and calls Bret to arrange lunch. Cordell's promises. Fifty-fifty, anymore, that it ends up being true. Liam decides to believe him. He's hardheaded. He might as well be hardheaded and optimistic about it.

#ffcc #walker #walker texas ranger #walker fic #my writing #if anyone ever needed an in-depth character study of liam #...here it is

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

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Warriors in Red Armor

Next | Masterlist

Chapter One

Hound I

"So, are we going to 79's tonight?" Hound asked. He had meant to be subtle about it, but the question burst out of him the moment his well-worn boots crossed the threshold of the small break space allotted to members of the Coruscant Guard.

As break spaces went, the one designated for the Coruscant Guard's clone troopers was an embarrassment. Some determined being had managed to cram a table and a handful of chairs inside, but it was a tight fit. If more than a few fully armored troopers went inside at the same time, none of them would get back out without removing some armor to clear the traffic jam. The lights flickered, the faucet leaked, the floor was always sticky, and the stuffy air held a hint of the chemicals that had been stored there years ago. Since then, the previous break space had been renovated into an office for one of the few nat-born commanding officers and this one had been created for the clone troopers.

Still, the smell of caf was stronger than the smell of chemicals most days and the light from a nearby advertisement screen lit the room so brightly that the flickering lights didn't give any of the troopers a migraine anymore. Hound always was a man who liked to see the glass as half-full. Maybe even a little more than half, if that glass was sitting under the dripping faucet.

Thire snorted at Hound's question, leaning back in his chair until gravity threatened to topple him. "Well, boys? Hound wants to know if we're going to 79's this lovely Friday evening. What do we think?"

Thorn glanced around the room, looking unamused by his brother's antics. "We think I'm the only other one here, di'kut."

"Exactly!" Thire said in triumph, obviously determined to ignore his fellow commander. "It's the weekend! Why wouldn't we go to 79's?"

"Because you've finally realized that it's a glorified zoo?" Thorn snapped, tone venomous. "79's is where civvies go to stare at clone troopers so they can feel like they're being daring. In reality, they're being irritating."

Having spoken his piece, Thorn tossed back the last of his cup of caf, always consumed as dark as his mood. Hound shuddered at the thought. Corrie Guard caf was brewed at the approximate concentration of speeder fuel and could eat through duracrete. Only a trooper who hated himself would drink it black.

Thorn always drank it black.

"So you don't want to go?" Hound asked again, sounding heartbroken.

"No, I'll go," Thorn told him. "Zoo or not, 79's still has the cheapest booze on Coruscant that doesn't use poison as a mixer."

"Well, that's the most excited I've heard Thorn get about anything for a week, at least," Thire smirked. "Commander Fox, you want in on this?"

The Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard, having just stepped into the break room to fill his mug with caf, shook his head. "No, I'm on duty tonight. The Clone Rights group has been cleared to march and the Chancellor wants an extra Guard presence. Stone will be stuck here as well, monitoring any new arrivals."

"Ugh," Hound said, summarizing everyone else's point of view. "Well, we'll be thinking of you both, Commander."

Fox lowered the datapad in his hand to shoot a look in Hound's direction. "Sergeant, don't you have that ARF PR stunt tomorrow at 0800?"

Hound shrugged. "Yeah, but I can do both."

"Make sure you don't miss it," Fox ordered sternly. "The last thing I need is to have to report to the Chancellor that you missed a chance to give the GAR a boost in civil opinion."

Hound saluted and Fox turned his attention to the other break room occupants. "Thorn, if you let your stubble get any longer, it'll be considered a beard and subject to facial hair regulations. Thire, sit on the chair like a normal being, would you?"

Thorn nodded and Thire grinned as he let the chair's legs slam onto the floor. Fox rolled his eyes at their antics, refilled his cup of caf, and left the break area. Hound idly wondered how many of the gray hairs appearing at the Head Commander's temples were due to the commanding officer team. Still, the Chancellor had let Fox choose his own team of COs, so there was no one to blame but himself.

"Meet at 2100?" Thire asked. "That's prime time for 79's and there'll be plenty of talent. I'll go ahead and apologize, vode. When you look this good, you automatically get your pick of the females."

Thire brushed a hand back across his hair - meticulously trimmed to maintain the subtle horizontal lines shaved into the otherwise regulation cut - and grinned at the other two. Hound and Thire rolled their eyes, but agreed anyway.

---

Kai I

"Hey, do you guys want to go to 79's tonight?" Kai asked, perched on the desk she was supposed to be sitting behind. She was always restless and neither of the other women blamed her for the odd choice of seat - even though it made inter-desk communication a bit of a pain.

Arkularia - who, for the sake of Kai's sanity, allowed the others to call her 'Ark' - was the first to respond. "79's? The clone bar?"

"Do you want to drink, dance, or find a one-night stand?" Ransom asked from behind her expansive tech setup. "Because there are better places for any of those. Closer, too."

"No, I want to go to 79's," Kai said, kicking up her chin. "And as for what I want… I want all of them. All three options, please and thank you."

"Did you just try to order a night out? Like from a menu?" Ransom asked. From the tone of her voice, Kai had managed to earn a rare smile from her boss. Of course, that was only a guess since Ransom didn't emerge from her den so Kai could verify the expression.

"No… but can you imagine how much easier that would be?" Kai asked in her own defense.

"It would take some of the fun out of it, I think," Ark said slowly.

Kai chucked a wad of flimsi at her friend and co-worker's head, cheering to herself as it connected and bounced off of Ark's white-blonde hair. "I know that, Ark! C'mon guys, do you want to come to 79's with me or not?"

"I'm out," Ransom said immediately, shutting down the projector option on her desk. She was still illuminated by the ambient light from the schematics on her datapad. The cybernetic implants in Ransom's arm gleamed in the blue glow as she dragged a hand over her shaved head. "I have to work late if we have any hope of finishing our next job on time."

"Ark?" Kai asked, not too proud to sound like she was begging.

Ark sighed, pale eyes hopeless in the face of Kai's wheedling. "Fine, I'll go along."

"Yes!"

"Ransom, are you sure you can't come, too?" Ark asked, her voice a bit desperate.

"I really do have to stay and work on this," Ransom apologized, gesturing at her assortment of datapads. "My condolences."

"We're going to a club, not facing a firing squad!" Kai admonished. "Besides, I just want to find someone fun."

"Like that last guy?" Ark asked, squinting a bit as she applied her prodigious memory to her own question. "What was his name?"

"Not sure," Kai admitted. "But he was so much fun! Great tattoos."

"So you are looking for a hookup! I knew it," Ransom crowed.

Ark frowned. "Why a clone trooper? They're never on-planet for long before they have to leave."

"Exactly," Kai said with a wink. "Love 'em and leave 'em."

"Didn't the last one stick around for a while? I thought I remembered seeing him more than a few times…" Ark pondered.

"Hardcase! His name was Hardcase," Ransom remembered. "He came by every day of his leave."

"Strange name," Ark commented.

"Strange guy," Ransom said with a shrug.

"But he was hot," Kai countered, folding a piece of flimsi to look like a tooka. At least it did in her imagination. "And so much fun. I need another someone like him."

"What happened to him?" Ark asked curiously.

Kai would have blushed if she had any shame - too bad for Coruscant that she didn't. Instead, she pouted. "He moved on with a Zeltron who works at GAR headquarters. That's the best place to meet troopers, but they don't give access to civilians unless they have official business."

"Hardcase didn't seem like the type to ghost you out of nowhere," Ransom mused.

"I… may have freaked out about him asking me to be his girlfriend," Kai admitted. "I don't want anything serious, you know? Besides, I'm the one who introduced him to the new girl. She's a sweetheart. He adores her and she's the same about him. Can't be too upset with that."

Ark and Ransom exchanged loaded glances, but Kai had no interest in a therapy session. "Right! So, Ransom, you're still out?"

"I have no interest in coming along and I have work to do here."

"Well, that was almost nice," Kai congratulated. "Ark, it's you and me. When should we go?"

Ark shrugged. "Why don't we just stop there on the way home from work?"

"Are you kidding?" Kai asked, aghast at the idea. "We aren't exactly wearing Senatorial dress, but we're still too professional for a club! No, we need to go home, change, and meet there. How long do you need?"

"I don't know… half an hour?"

"How long do you need to find an outfit that makes sense in a club setting?" Kai rephrased her question.

"Two hours," Ark corrected herself, sounding sheepish.

"That's more like it," Kai said, satisfied. Her look turned wicked as she said, "Now, let's talk about makeup…"

"Are you sure you don't need any help here, Ransom?" Ark asked their boss, her eyes widening with hidden significance.

"No, it's too late!" Kai denied. "Meet me at my apartment and I'll help you. Let's say eight."

Ark glanced back at Ransom, who gave a sympathetic shrug. Ark sighed. "Fine, eight."

---

A/N - Hello, and welcome to yet another Clone Wars-based story! I can't leave these poor guys alone. They deserve so much more than they got! So, you may have noticed that some of the characters are a bit different from the way they are normally portrayed in fan fiction. The first fic I read with the Coruscant Guard had Thire as a happy joking guy and Thorn as a serious doom-and-gloom trooper. I'm coming to realize that is not typical for fanon interpretations, but those characterizations are embedded in my mind. I hope you didn't find this too jarring!

I'm experimenting with a new Game of Thrones-style POV tracking format. Hopefully that will keep things from getting too confusing as we bounce back and forth across eight different POVs! I apologize for the short length of this chapter, but it's just a simple introduction of (most of) the characters.

#Warriors in Red Armor #star wars the clone wars #star wars #star wars fanfiction #coruscant guard #commander fox #commander thorn #commander thire #sergeant hound #clone troopers deserve better #more to come #please reblog

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sofreddie · 4 years

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Sam's Revenge (Part 2)

Characters: Sam, Ruby, Others mentioned

Warnings: Implied Noncon (flashback, not detailed), Angst

Word Count: 1,135

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

PART 1

I was waiting for her in her room. Dad had ordered me to put her in line and I was eager to please, especially in this case. When she entered the room, I was quick to close the door, blocking her exit.

“Sam?” She was scared, nervous. It only excited me further.

“You know, it occurs to me - and to my father - that you don’t seem to want to play by the rules.” I stalked closer to her, enjoying the way she squirmed. She was my prey, and she knew it.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.” She looked like she was searching for an escape. A part of me hoped she'd try, just for the fun of catching her.

“I know you want to leave us. And I know you think you can get revenge. But I won’t let that happen.”

Then it happened.

She made a mad dash over the bed and towards the door, but I caught her before she could leave. I grabbed her around the waist and by the hair, intent on dragging her away from the door. But when she lashed out and kicked, hitting me in the shin, I knew I had to put her in line.

I slammed her against the wall and heard as her head cracked off the stone. Before she could slump, I grabbed her by the throat and threw her to the bed.

I was really going to enjoy this.

Sam gasped awake, rubbing his eyes and wiping the sweat from his face as he took in his surroundings. He had stumbled upon an old hunting cabin on the Winchester hunting grounds. A long-forgotten shack buried deep in the forests of their region.

For weeks now, every time he closed his eyes his memories taunted him. The things he did when soulless and under John's control driving him mad and making him sick to his stomach. All he wanted was to leave the life. Now he was forced from it, all he wanted was back in. It was all he knew.

He chugged down the rest of the stale beer that sat next to his mattress on the floor. While awake, he would obsess over his plan to exact revenge. The problem was, he had no plan. He wasn't sure how to find them or even where to start. And once he did, how was he going to defeat the King of Hell and his mother, the witch?

Witch.

Sam suddenly remembered a woman that the soulless version of him was well acquainted with, even if it had been a few years. She used to be a witch - when she was human - and could definitely help him in tracking Crowley and Rowena. Maybe she could even help him figure out a way to kill them.

He pulled out his cell phone, luckily charged up at a Gas-N-Sip not far from the cabin. He thumbed through the contacts before he got to her name. His finger hovered over the button before he shook his head and blew out a breath, hitting call.

"Sam Winchester," the female voice purred, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Sam bit his lip and closed his eyes, his body responding to her voice in ways he didn't want it to, "Ruby," he breathed out, "I need your help."

Sam swallowed hard as he shut off the stolen sedan, letting it settle in the parking lot of the small motel. Ruby had given him the address and room number and told him to meet her there. He knew he probably shouldn't go in there. Hell, he shouldn't have called her. Ruby was trouble, and he wasn't the same Sam.

Unfortunately, Sam had literally no one else. Even after years without contact, one phone call and she was right there. If she could help him in his mission, then it would all be worth it in the end.

He made his way to the indicated room, pausing to take a breath and calm his nerves before knocking quickly on the door before he could change his mind. It felt like he stood waiting forever, even if it was just a few seconds.

When the door opened his breath hitched, partly because she was always beautiful - and unchanged in the time they'd been apart - and partly because of fear, though he'd never admit it. Ruby had a way of bringing out the dark in him. He didn't want to go down that path. He was doing all this because he was forced down that path.

"Hey, Ruby," he breathed out, forcing a small smile to his lips. She quirked a brow at him, seeing through his façade, before standing aside and letting him in the room. He tucked his hands into his pockets before turning to her sheepishly.

"So?" she inquired as she made her way to the motel's small table, pouring her and Sam a glass of whiskey, "What sort of trouble you got yourself into now?" she smirked at him.

Sam took the glass gratefully, downing the contents and accepting a refill as he recounted to her what had happened. The Way. His soul. Exile. All of it. By the end, he couldn't help it, he was in tears once more.

Ruby was quick to kneel before him where he sat on the end of the motel's bed. She wrapped her arms around him, soothing him as he suffered the waves of pain once more.

"What do you need, Sam?" she asked, looking into his reddened eyes. He saw the look in her eyes, the lust that lingered there. She was so close and he was so tempted to lean in and kiss her, to accept that comfort and distraction. He shook his head, as if coming out of a trance, before quickly rising to his feet and shuffling several feet away from her.

"Don't," he stated firmly, "N-not that," he swallowed hard.

"Then what?" she huffed, rising to her own feet and crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded him.

"I need help to find Crowley and Rowena."

"And then what, Sam? You're gonna kill them?" she asked and he nodded, "How?" he shrugged in response.

"I need your help with that too," he said defeatedly.

"Sam," she huffed, "Why not just forget about it, huh?" she offered, stepping closer to him once more and wrapping her arms around his waist, "You've got your soul back and you're finally out of that life. That's what you always wanted, right?"

"No," he stated, gently pulling her arms from around him, his gaze gone cold, "No, all I want is to make them pay for what they did to me," he said with a dangerously low tone.

"Okay, Sam," she agreed with a nod, "I'll help."

PART 3

Forevers:

@winchesterprincessbride

@iamcmims

@roxyspearing

@reigningqueenofwords

@mogaruke

@ellen-reincarnated1967

@speakinvain

@atc74

@sterekloveaffairs

@mrs-meghan-winchester

@chook007

@growningupgeek

@goldenolaf25

@esoltis280

@hobby27

@sis-tafics

@arryn-nyxx

@x-waywardaf-x

@shann-the-artist-moon

@sandlee44

@lucywinchester2000

@emoryhemsworth

@time-travel-bouqet

@buckysbrat

@calaofnoldor

@spnbaby-67

@miraclesoflove

@lyarr24

Sam's Revenge:

@allethalove @squirrelnotsam

@salt-n-burn-em-all

#sam's revenge #sam winchester #dark!fic #supernatural #spn #dark!series

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years

Text

Chapter Nineteen: A Psychotic Break

Rated PG

Masterlist

~Oh, she's sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night she screamin'

"I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

Oh, she's sweet but a Psycho~

"HOW DO YOU KNOW SAM AND DEAN?!" He shouted.

It took effort, but I didn't flinch. I blinked and, slowly, raised that eyebrow again. Though I couldn't see his eyes, I could feel the annoyance rising in his mind.

"Tell ya what," I said, putting on my best 'let's make a deal' face, "I'm a reasonable girl, so if you tell me just one thing, then I'll tell ya anything you want to know."

"Hmmm..." The guy studied me, walking in a circle around my chair and eating his lolli-pop.

Normally, I'd be scared out of my wits. This entity in front of me, whoever he was, was clearly immensely powerful; warping reality on that scale isn't exactly a party trick. Just by looking at the scene around me, I knew this guy wasn't Loki. Loki was never this powerful. The Norse god wasn't capable of a full-on reality shift. As long as you knew it was an illusion, Loki couldn't make his illusions solid. Whoever was talking to me now, however, had made four solid copies of himself. It would take an immense amount of raw power to do something like that. One would think that a being with this much power would scare me more than Loki just on principle.

But he didn't.

For some strange reason, he didn't. There was just something about this guy, quite opposite to the original owner of the face he was wearing, that told me he meant no real harm. I didn't want to mess with any more heads but a quick poke around his emotions told me that this guy was a friend to the Winchesters; he was fond of them actually. A part of him looked up to the Winchesters and another part felt like he owed them something. So, if I was their friend, then this entity wasn't going to harm me.

All mind reading and prior knowledge aside, I just wasn't intimidated by him. Maybe it was the cherry-flavored lolli-pop stuck in his mouth. Or maybe it was the height. I'm not one to talk about being vertically challenged but this guy was no Sam Winchester, that was for sure.

"It's up to you." I shrugged, spreading my hands. "But I want you to know, that I have literal days to sit here and not say a word."

The man chuckled and pulled the lolli-pop from his mouth.

"Well, I'd like you to know that I am very good at getting people to talk." He paused, tilting his head to the side as if thinking about something. "Not as good as Castiel o'course. Now, that guy could make em' sing. Wowie!"

The man didn't seem to be making a threat as much as an observation. I could feel my nose scrunch up with discomfort for thoughts of what Castiel might do to me if he ever found out my secret. Would he torture me?

I pushed the thought away and wiped the discomfort from my face, replacing it with a smirk. Now was not the time for grim thoughts.

"I think you'll find that I have an extraordinary talent for saying 'no'," I said, leaning forward and folding my hands together on top of the table.

"You think so?" He challenged, amused by the tiny child that thought she could beat him.

I shrugged.

"It's one of my charms. Besides, are you really gonna torture a kid?" I pointed out. I had to remember to use my physical age as the tool it was.

"Of course not!" The man scoffed, waving a hand, "That's low; even for me."

"Guess we're at a stalemate then!" I sighed.

"Hmm." The man twisted the stick of his Lolli-pop in between his fingers. "What if I were to ask really nicely?"

"I'd say 'no'."

"What if I said 'please'?"

"I'd say 'no'."

"What if I gave you candy?"

"I'd be tempted, then I'd be creeped out, then I'd say 'no'." I grinned at him. The man frowned and pointed his lolli-pop at me accusingly.

"You know, for an eight-year-old or whatever you are, you sure don't act like a kid," He said, I couldn't see past his stupid reflective glasses but I thought he was narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, sorry. Is this better?" I cleared my throat in a very mature way before giving him my best pouty frown and doe-eyed puppy look.

"Mommy tol' me nevur to take candwy fwum stwangurs," I said in an innocent baby voice.

"Hmmm. It's close, but you're still acting just a smidge too old. Maybe a 'goo-goo ga-ga' would help!" He smirked. He'd turned my own sass against me. This guy was good. I kinda wanted to punch him.

"Nah, I don't think it would work," I said, smiling thinly.

"Aw, that's a shame. So how old are you really?" He asked.

"No."

"C'mon!"

"No."

"Geez, kiddo. You are really good at saying that, aren't you?" He tried.

I didn't answer. I just smiled at him, pleasantly. The man rolled his eyes, cursing under his breath.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," He muttered. He turned to me. "Fine! What's your question, kid?"

I folded my hands in my lap and collected my thoughts. He couldn't read my mind, I knew. I felt like a sphinx of stone. Speaking as calmly as I could, I asked my question.

"Earlier, when I called you Loki, you said 'wrong religion' and you said you'd killed him; I'm guessing for a slice of revenge. So, my question for you is this: What's the name of the one that talks to you when you're all alone?"

The man shifted his weight and tugged at the collar of his stupid police outfit. The color drained from his face and all his muscles tightened. He clenched his lolli-pop in his teeth, pressing so hard that it shattered. Moving to grab another, he stuck quivering hands into his pockets, but he didn't remove them. The man raised an eyebrow at me and forced a laugh. He was uncomfortable, deeply so, and afraid of something. Afraid not of the thing itself, but the memory of it. Something was haunting him. I could see it in his eyes. All that time alone.

Using my power, I pulled on that fear.

"That's it?" He scoffed faking nonchalance. I shrugged, simply.

"That's it."

"Call me the Trickster." The man smirked. He ripped off those stupid sunglasses and leaned into a mocking sort of bow. "Pleasure to meet ya, kiddo! No, I don't answer fan-mail."

I tilted my head and kept smiling at him, raising an eyebrow expectantly. I didn't speak. The man's smirk shrank from his face as he slowly straightened back up, regarding me with a suspicious and cautious expression. His feet shifted him a little further away from me.

"What's that smile for?" He asked.

"You didn't answer my question, Mr. Trickster." I kept my voice that same unsettling calm and pulled harder on his fear, feeling it rise and crowd his mind. The guy calling himself the trickster pretended to think about my statement.

"Yeah, no; I'm pretty sure I did." He said, nodding. I smiled wider.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Your question doesn’t make sense, kid.” His voice was harsh and biting.

“Yes, it does.”

“Well, I sure as Hell don’t understand it.”

“Yes, you do.”

The man forced a laugh, but it only came off as nervous; he shook his finger at me.

“Are you a sphinx or something?”

"Only in the metaphorical sense, and you are not so clever as you think."

The man glared at me, his lip curling into a scowl. He leaned against the table and looked down at me. I'd made a wrong move; he was angry now, but I could still fix this.

"And you are way too clever for a kid."

"You're right." I nodded.

"Ya gonna tell me why?"

I leaned forward, looking him dead in the eyes. I grasped onto his fear and yanked on it as hard as I could without making it too suspicious.

"No."

The man scowled, glaring down at me. I kept my face impassive and stared back up at him. It was a battle of wills. Who would be the first to look away? Who would be the first to break?

Not me.

The man cast his eyes to the ceiling, throwing his hands into the air.

"GABRIEL!" He shouted. "My name is Gabriel!”

“You’re the angel?”

“Archangel and yes. Ya happy?!" He asked bitingly.

I smiled again, this time in a much more childish way.

"Yes."

I released my hold on Gabriel’s emotions and folded my hands in my lap. Gabriel nodded briskly. His stupid police getup disappeared, replaced by his outfit from earlier, a white t-shirt beneath a brown leather jacket, and a pair of standard jeans. Across the table from me, a second metal chair appeared out of nowhere and Gabriel pulled it out and sat. Folding his hands in front of him on the tabletop as I had previously done, he studied my face.

“My turn now, right?” He asked.

“That was the deal,” I replied with a shrug, returning to my usual sarcastic ways.

“Alrighty. You like games, kid?” He spoke the word as if he didn’t believe it was true. “Let’s play a game.”

“Ooh goodie! What game? Is it checkers? I’m great at checkers.” I rubbed my hands together in faux excitement.

“It’s easy,” Gabriel smirked. “You think you’re clever? Let’s see how clever. I ask you up to fifteen questions per topic, and you have to answer them. But, here’s the catch: You can only answer with one word. Got it?”

I was about to open my mouth to speak but, taking a look at the expression on the archangel’s face told me that this confirmation of my understanding was his little game’s first round. I pursed my lips, reforming my reply.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why only one word?” He clarified.

“Yeah.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened a bit and he nodded as if understanding something.

“Well, because I’m a professional liar and I know that it is much harder to tell a lie if you can’t provide details. You lie, you lose. And I don’t have to read your mind to know if you’re lying. So, one word,” He explained. I nodded.

“Ready to play?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, we were sitting in the bunker’s library. Gabriel was smirking at me. The game was on.

It was time to see if I was smarter than a five-billion-year-old cosmic entity. My bets were on no.

***

“Let’s start out easy, shall we? How did you meet the Winchesters?” Gabriel asked.

He watched her face. This game was a test, it was all about the words she chose and the way she said them. The more abstract the child’s answers, the cleverer the kid was. Details of the story she was barely telling registered in the Archangel’s mind; one after the other, like lines on a page.

“Alleyway,” The child answered. Interesting already.

“What happened in the alleyway?”

“Salvaged.” Thinks herself lesser in value.

“From what?”

“Idiots.” Views some as beneath her. Strange.

“Why did the idiots attack you?”

“Inebriated.” Drunk. Why not say drunk? Why choose the word inebriated?

“Were the inebriated idiots all the Winchesters salvaged you from?”

“Abridged.” Another abstract answer. Yes!

“What else was in that alleyway?”

“Suffering.”

“Physical pain or otherwise? Elaborate.”

“All-encompassing.” Hyphenating, clever move.

“Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater! Who said you could hyphenate?” Gabriel spoke accusingly. The girl shrugged with an innocent expression on her face.

“Unstipulated.” Exploiting loopholes; perfect.

“So why was this suffering of yours all-encompassing? What was causing it?” He asked, getting back to the point.

“Shiver.” Not shivering but shiver. Why only say shiver?

“Were you in danger of dying by hypothermia?”

“Agony.”

“But not death?” This question was more directed toward himself, but the girl answered anyway.

“Enduring.” Fierce pain but not death.

“Enduring for what?”

“Victorious.”

“Why do you want to win?”

“Obligation.”

“Obligation to what?”

“Brother.”

“Why?”

“Nevermore,” She said, coolly.

Edger Allen Poe: The Raven: Verse 14; Quoth the Raven “Nevermore”

Time to switch topics.

“Why did the Winchesters help you?”

She shrugged.

“Screamed.” Simple enough. Disappointingly simple.

“Why were you in the alleyway?”

The girl paused.

“Caution.” She said, slowly. Yet she had been attacked. That was an interesting answer.

“Caution for what?”

“Harm.”

Gabriel nodded, that was a little confusing, but he was sure he would figure it out eventually.

“So, were you looking for the Winchesters, or did they find you by chance?”

The girl thought about this for a bit before answering. Just the pause she had taken was interesting, that meant the answer was more complicated than a yes or a no.

“Watching,” She decided.

“Why were you watching?”

“Waiting.” This was getting better by the second.

“Waiting for what?”

She paused again.

“Seek.” There was a secret smile in her eyes when she answered this time. She thinks she has an advantage. Maybe she does…

“Where was this?”

“Michigan.”

“What town?”

It was a trick question; her answer would have to be two words; there was no avoiding it. Only a few minutes into his little game and he was already trying to trip the girl up. That wasn’t cheating or anything; if this kid thought that beating him was going to be a cakewalk then she had another thing coming.

“Two,” She replied.

“The town’s name is two words?” He asked her only to be sure of the context.

“Yes.”

“Okay, answer the question anyway. If I don’t know the town when you give me the word, then you lose.” He challenged. The girl took a second to think.

“Ferry.”

“Was the town Copper Harbor, Michigan?”

The girl grinned.

“Yep.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and nodded, the smirk on his face growing wider. This kid was clever. He was getting excited. For the first time in he didn’t know how many millennia, Gabriel had a decent game to play, and for the first time in just as many years, he finally had someone to play with. For as long as the archangel could remember, he had loved a good game. He had always relished the challenge of solving a brilliant puzzle or capturing an opponent’s king. When chess had been invented, he had become a master. Gabriel adored beating people at things. He loved to best them, yes, but not only that. He loved to teach them something too; to show them how they could be better. But for as long as he had lived, Gabriel had never been given a real challenge. His brothers could have given him one of course, but they were so predictable and they had always been fighting. They had never cared to really play with him; not the sort of game he had wanted. A game of wits. A game of minds.

For someone who had been stuck on Earth as long as he had, things just got so boring. It wasn’t as if he could leave the planet; despite how much he had desperately wanted to. He had to stay and honor the terms of his witness protection agreement with Loki. After a while, no game on the planet could capture his interest or cure his horrid boredom. The only minor distraction he’d had was the humans.

Gabriel thought humans were wonderful things. Though, for a much different reason than his little brother, Castiel, did. Castiel loved humans for their hearts; Gabriel loved them for their minds. Not all of them were entertaining of course; he wasn’t lucky enough for that. The fact of his life was that there was only a disappointing handful of interesting individuals out there to entertain him. The archangel had had a hay-day when he’d met Einstein! (And you wonder why everyone thought he was crazy.) Though it was somewhat fun for him to watch the boring majority of humanity stumble and fall whenever he tried to teach them a lesson, it wasn’t ever enough.

Gabriel had longed for someone, anyone, even a human, he could play a game with. Now, suddenly, here she was. Someone clever, someone who knew what clever meant, someone who actually wanted to play a real game. Gabriel had seen it in her eyes the moment he’d given her the chance to ask him her question. She was bored too. This was exhilarating for her too.

As if all that wasn’t good enough, Gabriel couldn’t read her mind. This fact probably should have concerned him more than it did, but he couldn’t focus on a tiny detail like that. No, this was too good of a chance to pass up. Not even his nephew had been able to give him a decent challenge. Gabriel was too excited to focus on something so seemingly trivial. He was excited, he was high on the thrill of the chase. No one ever said you couldn’t fool an archangel, and Gabriel didn’t know it, but he had been fooled. He had been fooled by a tiny girl with the face of a child.

Another entity as powerful as he was would most likely consider it beneath them to play a game of wits with a child, to be challenged by a child. But not Gabriel. He had been waiting for a chance like this for all of his existence; age simply didn’t matter to him anymore. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t curious, however.

This was his element. This was his obsession. This was his chance. It was time to have some fun.

“Now all that’s out of the way, let’s ask some things about you. What’s your name?”

“Marty.”

“Nice name. How old are you, Marty?”

“Enough.” The girl smirked. She was good. But he was just a little better.

“How many years have you been alive?”

“Fourteen.” That was her answer. There was darkness in his eyes this time. Interesting.

“How many years have you existed?”

A look of fear crossed her face, like a deer caught in headlights. But the look vanished as soon as it came and was replaced with a confident smirk.

“Conservation.” She answered.

Gabriel cursed internally. The law of conservation of energy; energy is neither created nor destroyed. Of course, she would say something like that.

“Okay, miss-smarty-pants. How many years have you been aware of your existence?”

Marty swallowed and looked down at her hands in her lap.

“Nineteen.” Now they were getting somewhere.

“Riddle me this, Batman. How can you be fourteen and nineteen at the same time?”

She glared at her folded hands.

“Trapped.” The way she stressed the word told Gabriel that she was more than resentful of her condition.

“Trapped how? Elaborate,” He demanded.

“Skin,” She said, nearly growling.

“Elaborate,” He repeated, nodding.

“Cage,” Her voice quivered.

“Why?” He leaned forward now, waiting. This would be the crucial response. Marty looked up, there were ghost tears in her eyes.

“Neverland.”

Very interesting. Time for a new line of questions.

“Why did you come with the Winchesters?”

“Invited.”

“Which one invited you?”

She smiled a little.

“Jack.”

“Why did he ask you to come here?”

“Protection.”

“What led him to offer you protection?”

“Mendicant.”

Mendicant. Definition: One who begs. So, did she ask to come or was she invited? And if she was begging, that begs the question of why.

“What were you begging for?”

“Life.”

“Why were you begging for your life.”

Marty tilted her head.

“Guillotine.”

Her use of the word guillotine could be a metaphor, or it could mean something very literal. Gabriel had the suspicion that it meant a little of both.

“What did Jack offer to protect you from?”

She shrugged.

“Monster,” She said as if it was obvious.

“Yours or someone else’s?”

“Everyone’s,” Marty whispered.

There it was. That was it. That was the clue.

Gabriel laughed; he was winning.

“Tell me, Marty, how long ago was your family massacred?” He asked. Marty looked like she’d been stabbed in the gut and Gabriel felt a pang of guilt, but he brushed it off. It was nothing compared to his excitement.

“Five,” She replied after a moment.

“Five what?”

“Years,” Her voice cracked. Gabriel nodded.

“How have you spent those five years?”

“Alone.”

“If you’ve been on your own for so long, why accept help now?” He prodded.

“Tired.”

“What are you tired of?”

“Running.”

“That’s the practical reason, what’s the other reason?”

Marty pursed her lips.

“Name.”

“Of what?”

“Character.”

“Say it.”

“Peter Pan.” Two references to the same story in one conversation. Definitely not a coincidence. She was comparing herself to something, but what was it? What was he missing?

“Okay pumpkin, just a few more questions; then we’re done ‘cause I don’t have all day.”

“Nice.” She smiled.

"Why should I believe a word you've said to me?"

The girl grinned in a way that was meant to be friendly, but fell critically short.

"Psycho."

That response unnerved the five billion year-old archangel. What was this kid?

“What do you think of Jack?” He continued, he didn't miss a beat.

“Viridity,” She replied. Viridity; noun: Naïve innocence.

“What do you think of his parentage?”

“Irrelevant.” Gabriel had heard many words used to describe his family. Irrelevant was definitely not one of them.

“What do you want more than anything in the world?”

Marty’s answer was unexpected.

“Back.” Her voice wasn’t desperate or wistful; it was cold and hard.

“Describe yourself. Who are you, Marty?”

She had to think about this one. When she had her answer, the genius girl grinned. It wasn’t in a happy way.

“Domino.”

“Alright, one last question, then you’re free to go.” Gabriel leaned forward, his face a grim mask. “Do you have a crush on my nephew?”

Surprised by his question, Marty blinked but before long a smirk split across her cheeks and mischief gleamed in her eyes.

“Talent.” That was all she said. Gabriel knew that meant; ‘The answer may be yes, but I will say no until the day I die.’ The archangel reached a hand across the table; Marty grasped and shook it.

“Good game, kiddo. Mind telling me where Sam and Dean are now?”

“They’re on their way to New-York. They’ll be there in a few hours,” Marty said.

“Cool beans. Now go get some breakfast and I’ll see ya later.”

With a nod of his head, Gabriel was gone. The reason why he had originally come to the bunker was completely forgotten. Now he had only one thought on his mind.

He needed to find Sam and Dean.

He needed to warn them about the girl they were protecting.

When it came to individuals, there had never been something that Gabriel couldn’t figure out.

Never. Not one thing. Until now.

Gabriel had no idea what that child was.

That thought―that question mark unnerved him. That notion shook him down to his very core.

That blank space child, that missing piece little girl.

She was more terrifying to him than anything he had known in five billion years.

~You're just like me, you're out your mind

I know it's strange, we're both the crazy kind

You're tellin' me that I'm insane

Boy, don't pretend that you ain't just the same

Oh, she's sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night she screamin'

"I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

Oh, she's sweet...

But a Psycho~

Lyrics from: Sweet But A Psycho by Ava Max

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star-labs-intern · 4 years

Note

N° 8 for Harrisco! I can't help but picture Harry patching Cisco's hands up cus he hurt 'em after fighting a random meta and Harry's worried even tho both of them are kinda used to it but he still worries anyways. But also whatever else you might have in mind is good! I love your works and thanks for writing for us! Xx

A/N: This one was truly a blast to write. So much so that I got over a thousand words ... So much for drabbles! But anyway thank you for the sweet words about my writing <3 hope you enjoy!

~1200 words

Cisco lay in the med bay, the most agitated anyone had ever seen Cisco. He had been out in the field with Barry fighting a meta calling himself Porcupine - he could shoot needles out of his hands, they were mostly small, pointy, black needles but he could throw larger ones if he focused hard enough.

There were several needles in Cisco's hands and Caitlin was having a tough time removing them.

"Stop fidgeting."

"Cait, I’m trying my best not to move, but there are actual NEEDLES you are pulling out of me right now. That cactoid mother-" Cisco was shouty and in pain.

"We can all see them, don't have to yell at Snow," Harry muttered from the corner. His arms were crossed tight over his chest and his mouth was a hard line.

"You wanna feel these?" Cisco whined waving his free hand, which still had three needles protruding, at Harry.

"I have. Or. Jesse has." Harry said "He was a meta on our earth, too-"

"Hope he had a better name." Cisco interrupted

"I had to pick them out of Jesse's arm one night after she was in the wrong place at the wrong time in college." Harry let it sink in for a beat. "and she didn't whine as much as you,"

"I'm sorry???"

"You're being a baby, Ramon," Harry shrugged

"Cait is manhandling me!!"

"Oh my god Cisco, you are so close to being referred to another doctor," Cait's eyes flashed frosty for a moment.

"Want me to take over Dr. Snow?"

The room was quiet as they all processed Harry's offer.

And then they were alone and Harry was sitting down on the side of the bed to work on Cisco's hands instead of Cait, leaning over like a doctor.

"They really sting you're gonna have to go slow," Cisco started

Harry shushed him, pulling one of Cisco's affected hands to him. "Don't look at your hand, just close your eyes and we'll have a conversation while I take care of this for you."

Cisco narrowed his eyes but Harry's hands felt nice. Cait's were cold and sterile but Harry's were warm and they felt a little weathered from years of working.

Reluctantly, Cisco closed his eyes.

"When this happened to Jesse I was so worried. I didn't want to let her sleep out of the house anymore." Harry chuckled a little at the memory. Cisco could feel Harry's hands working and little pinches here and there but nothing super painful so far. "She slept home for three nights and then she sat me down and broke things to me gently."

Cisco was interested in the story but he felt a stab of pain in his hand and sucked in air at the corners of his mouth.

"Hurts?" Harry asked but the pain was gone again

"Just for a second. I'm fine now." Cisco said. "Just warn me before you start taking the needles out again."

Harry was quiet for a beat. "Sure."

"So what did Jesse say to convince you to let her leave the house?" Cisco asked, remembering the stopping point in the story.

There were a few more small pinches but Cisco was so interested in the story he started to not notice. "Ah Jesse. She said "Dad, sometimes bad things are gonna happen to me. I'm okay. I'm here and I appreciate you being here to help me out when the bad stuff does come. But you've gotta be okay with me going out there into the world. Bad stuff might happen but lots of good stuff might happen too." She's smart, my Jesse Quick." Then there was another sharper pinch of pain like the first one.

"Ouch!" Cisco jumped a little but Harry soothed his arm.

"You okay?" Harry asked.

"Yeah just surprised me, that one. You gonna take a needle out now or what?" Cisco asked

"Open your eyes."

The hand Harry was working on was completed clean except for the points where the needles had broken the skin. Three black Porcupine needles were on a tray at the side of the bed.

"Don't be mad. Just one more in your other hand." Harry suggested, biting his cheek.

Cisco was speechless for a second. "You sneaky thing." All told, he was honestly impressed.

"I am stubborn but I am not a moron. This clearly worked. I am gonna let you take the last needle out and then I will think about whether or not I am mad at you." Cisco finally decided. "think of this as friendship purgatory."

"Deal." Harry scoffed a laugh and set to work on Cisco's other hand.

Cisco was being a touch more tense now that he was watching. Harry was bent over his hand with careful precision. There were little pinches when Harry tugged the skin taut to make sure he wouldn’t snag loose skin or make Cisco bleed when he eventually pulled out the needle. His glasses slid down his nose a bit, and Harry used his first knuckle to slide them back up to his brow.

Cisco sucked in air at the corners of his mouth again when Harry readied himself to pull the needle out.

Harry gave Cisco a sidelong glance. “Should I make you look away? Are you going to move?”

“Rude!” Cisco accused.

“you - you-” Harry imitated the noise Cisco had made, sucking air loudly “And I hadn’t even touched the needle yet!?”

“It stings!” Cisco argued.

“They didn’t sting when you had your eyes closed!” Harry argued.

Cisco reddened, cornered with facts. He turned his head away. He felt Harry’s strong hands pulling at his skin, some small pinches, and one final stab of pain, making Cisco wince.

“Well?” Cisco asked, head still turned away.

“You can look.” Harry confirmed as he started to sanitize Cisco’s wounds.

“Ah, that tingles.” Cisco winced again at the antiseptic and Harry grinned, rolling his eyes.

“You can weather fights with metas and yet antiseptic has you complaining. You never cease to amaze me.” Harry muttered.

Cisco smirked. “Harry, thank you for taking the needles out. I appreciate it.”

Harry, finished with the antiseptic, pressed some small bandages to Cisco’s palms, where the needles had broken the skin. “Anything for you, Ramon,”

Then, Harry, reflexively, as if it was a knee jerk reaction to Cisco’s compliment, turned Cisco’s palm over delicately, careful not to disturb his injuries, and he pressed closed lips to the back of Cisco’s hand. Harry froze as he realized he was kissing Cisco, albeit his hand.

Harry let Cisco’s hand go and it hung there comically in the air for a moment before Cisco brought it to cradle against his chest. Harry cleared his throat. Cisco was awfully quiet for someone who had been whining so much prior to Harry taking over.

“Harry-” Cisco started, and Harry tried to steel himself to get yelled at. He tried to steel himself for the admonishments he was sure were coming.

Instead, Cisco took Harry’s hand, his own hands weak from pain and tender with bandages, and tugged it gently toward his mouth. Cisco pressed his own lips to the backs of Harry’s knuckles and Harry had to break the eye contact and look away.

“Thank you.” Cisco murmured, against Harry’s knuckles, and finally let his hand go.

Harry stared at his hand, on the bed at Cisco’s side. He looked up at Cisco. “Anytime.”

#harrisco #ask #anon #happy harrisco Valentine's yall #i enjoyed this one too much #i really wanted to do something that wasnt burned or cut tho #i feel like thats been overdone #so i hope the Porcupine thing worked?#beware of needles i guess tho #harrisco drabbles

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summerofsnowflakes · 4 years

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Every time (Rafael Casal x Reader)

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: Angst, Sexual themes, Heartbreak, Alcohol, Drug Use and Addiction. Wow I really went the full nine yards with this one....

This is the first time I have written for Rafa so I hope I did him justice. This is kind of based on Every time by Ariana Grande, I adore the song and kind of felt inspired so I ran with the story. I really hope it is enjoyed.

Tags: @braidedchallah as you asked so nicely! Here’s your tag! Enjoy :)

She awoke up in a groggy haze, blinking a few times so her eyes could focus in the dark room. Her head was throbbing, her hangover from the night before had already arrived and she was aware of the faint snoring coming from the other side of the bed. She didn't need to look to know it was Rafael, she also didn't need to check the under the sheets she was tangled in to know she was naked. The vivid memories of last night flooded Y/n's mind as she laid there. It had started with just texts and then the calls started that pulled each other away from their friends, that led to needing to see one another which always leads to sex. Now here she was, lying in his bed regretting everything as she had so many time before.

This is how almost every night out had ended for the two exes, they resumed this new kind of relationship after their very messy breakup six months ago. As Y/n laid there, calmed by the soft snores she thought back over their relationship. It had been great to begin with, they were made for one another and they feel hard and fast. From the start everything was fueled by raw emotion, Y/n let him see every part of her and he returned this by doing the same. She knew when they got together his mental health wasn't great, but she did all she could to be the sunshine on his dark days. Rafa developed a habit and before Y/n could catch him from falling it became serious. His drinking and drug use only got worse, she couldn't remember a time when he was sober in the last few months they had together. She was hurting so badly and she tried her best to keep a handle on the situation and their relationship, but he had only seen that as her trying to control him. They both reached their breaking point and ended everything in flurry of tears.

She wept silently at the memories, it was all too much to bear for her. She had to get out now, but as she stood up to get her clothes the alcohol that was still in her system rushed to her head and she tripped over her heels. The noise she made startled Rafa awake and she felt her heart sink. This was not apart of their usual routine, usually the person who stayed over slipped out silently to avoid the sober conversations and the reminder of what could have been. Rafa spoke first, "Hey".

"Uhhh hi, sorry I wasn't trying to wake you." She spoke softly and resumed getting dressed. More successfully this time around.

"Are you okay?" His voice strained as he asked.

Y/n paused in place with her back turned to him. "Bit of a loaded question Rafa." She knew he was asking about the fall but he mind was still stuck thinking about their relationship and she couldn't help the sarcasm in her retort. She hadn't seen the way his demeanour dropped in defeat as the words came out, it cut him deep. She didn't turn to look at him again, she couldn't trust herself not to climb back into bed with him and play happy families. She took a deep breath and spoke again, "I'll see you soon."

Y/n walked out before he could utter another word. She didn't hear him say "I love you" as she left.

Her second attempt to sneak about that morning failed as she tried to creep into her flat without rousing her flat mates. Everyone knew how volatile Y/n and Rafa had become for one another and for the most part she tried to avoid the topic with her friends. Unfortunately for Y/n they were both in the kitchen drinking their morning coffee and discussing the previous night. She saw the disappointment in their eyes as they bore into hers and she had no explanation for them. She knew they only cared and had her best interest at heart, they had tried to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart, but she wouldn't allow them to. She had excluded herself from all things that normal life had to offer. The only thing she had done for months was sit alone in her room or go out and get drunk. As she stood there in silence and seeing their faces, she had no words and all she could only stare blankly back at them while they spoke.

Emily spoke first, "Hun, you need to talk to us."

Anita jumped in straight after. "Yeah, we're so worried about you. You don't sleep, you barely eat, you've lost so much weight recently and the only thing you're interested in is going out and drinking."

"I'm convinced you only go out because you know you'll see him Y/n." Em continued.

Y/n felt a lump in her throat, they had it exactly right. "You just wouldn't understand." She whispered in attempt to deflect.

"Then help us understand, we don't want to see you like this anymore."

How could she make them understand? Rafa was the great love of her life, they were so deeply connected. They had shared so much pain together, pain that was still holding them both in place. Maybe this is why she avoided the topic with them. She knew they would get through to her and she wasn't ready to accept it was over just yet. She bowed her head to hide her face and said "I'm just not myself when I am not with him. It's like I lose a bit more of myself every day that we're apart. No matter what I do, I go back every time because for a small amount of time I feel like the old me." She was crying hard now and her eyes were screwed shut. She was shocked by the two sets of arms embracing her as she let it out and they stood there for the longest time allowing her to calm down.

Em grabbed her face so their eyes were in line "I know it's hard Y/n, but you are so much more than your relationship. You had a life before him and you will have one after him." Y/n nodded her head in response and Anita still held on to her lovingly from behind.

For the first time in months she felt as though she could breath on her own and she had to thank her friends for being so amazing. She allowed herself to integrate back in with the girls and they spent the rest of the day cuddled up on the sofa together under a duvet, watching trashy films and eating junk food. That night when the texts started up Y/n blocked his number, it hurt and it was hard but she knew she needed this.

This was the first step to moving on and starting her life afresh, without Rafa.

That sentiment lasted all of two weeks. For fourteen whole days Y/n detoxed herself, she ate three full meals a day, she only drank water and tea. She didn't touch a drop of alcohol to avoid impairing her judgement and calling him and had even missed out two nights out with the girls. If she kept herself busy enough she was almost convinced that she didn't even miss him. She did everything she could think of to avoid thinking about him. She tried to avoid picking up her phone, worried that she would 'accidentally' unblock him.

There was an awkward feeling in her flat that very Saturday two weeks later. Daveed's birthday party was tonight, none of the girls could avoid it. They had all been in the same friendship group once and none of them were about to let him down. Y/n tried so hard not to worry. Unfortunately the anxiety was determined to win and her heart was beating out it's chest uncontrollably. She took a deep breath in allowing it to wash over her, very aware that the longer she fought it the worse it would get.

Quietly she whispered to herself, "You'll be fine, you're going to have a good night." She repeated this to herself again and again throughout the whole getting ready process, until she was finished. She stared at herself and feeling good because she knew she had a killer outfit on and her make-up looked flawless. "I'll be okay." Y/n had been so nervous that she had already started drinking way before the party. It was the only way she could calm her nerves. Two weeks it had been since she had seen him or let him dominate her thoughts. Tonight he would be unavoidable.

It seemed everyone else had the same idea to turn up a little tipsy or high. When Daveed came over to greet the girls Y/n could smell the alcohol and weed on him. There was no denying it. Rafael wasn't far behind him, red eyed and body swaying, he smiled at her not really noticing Emily or Anita as he walked over. Y/n returned his smile but turned her back on him and walked to the kitchen to fix herself a drink while the girls spoke to Daveed about his birthday. As she poured out her wine into the biggest wine glass she could find, she hadn't noticed that Rafa had followed her into the kitchen.

"Now that is a big glass of wine." His voice startled her as she was lost in her own thoughts momentarily.

"It's been a long week."

"You're telling me, it's been a long two weeks, my dream girl's been ignoring me, she even blocked my number." He said hanging his head dramatically.

"Maybe she had good intentions for both of you." She reasoned and now looking at him she realised how much she had missed him.

"You're probably right, do you think she'll ignore me the whole night though?" He inquired with a bit of hope.

Y/n thought momentarily, still unsure and fighting her tipsy brain to answer logically. She knew she be avoiding him but as he stood across from her, looking so good she knew that she's already lost the battle. "I think you might be lucky tonight."

He laughed, his beautiful laugh, it engulfed her brain and he closed the gap between them, clasping his arms around her. Her nose was met with the smell of weed and the sober part of her sighed sadly as the drunk Y/n took over completely. She knew in the back of her mind that she would be regretting him in the morning.

All the hard work she had done to move forward came undone in seconds and it was completely forgotten. She ignored the looks her friends gave her as they made their way out of the kitchen together and set up camp together on a sofa away from everyone else in the party. They were in their own little world as they caught up, both in very good spirits and not noticing that they were being watched subtly by all their friends, who were all stunned by the sight. They looked like a couple again as if nothing bad had ever happened. The party through itself into full swing, drinking, drugs, dancing and games and for a little while Y/n and Rafa stayed on the sofa ignoring the party go by, Y/n sat on his lap and traced circles on her bare leg.

"Rafa, you down for beer pong, my man?" Daveed shouted over the crowd, breaking their conversation. Rafa saw Diggs holding a cup and ping pong ball and looked back to Y/n silently asking if she wanted to play too. She nodded and followed him over to the make-shift set up.

"Sorry Y/n, I need my partner in crime back for this game, we an unbeatable team you know." Daveed patted her sympathetically.

"Oh yeah so unbeatable, which is why every time I play against you, you lose." Y/n retorted. She looked around for the girls, Emily was too busy chatting up a very attractive lady, but Anita was free and by her side instantly to be on her team.

Rafa jumped in this time. "Funny, I remember someone crying and throwing a tantrum the last time we played because she lost."

"That's the only time I've lost against you both and I only got pissed off because you said, and I quote 'it's just a game'."

They were both in stiches laughing at her as she got worked up over the memory of losing. Y/n really was a sore loser.. "Fuck you both, just start the game."

The game started off very friendly with the boys taking the lead early on, but the girls easily caught then up. Now it was down to the wire, both teams had one cup left each and the energy around the table was tense. No one spoke as Y/n lined herself up as best as she could now that her head was foggy from the alcohol and she felt herself sway slightly. She took the shot as best as she could but managed to land in the last cup. From beside her Anita jumped and squealed. "You did it Y/n, we won!" Y/n turned and jumped around with her. She momentarily turned back to Daveed and Rafa who looked very pissed off and stuck her middle finger up at them both, laughing a little too evilly.

"I forgot she's just as much of a sore winner as she is when she loses." Daveed said quietly and they walked over to the girls on the other side of the table.

"I didn't." Rafa replied and laughed quietly to himself. Despite losing, he felt a little sense of pride over watching Y/n win. He slung his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into him again. "Well done baby." He whispered in her ear and once again they slipped back into their own world away from the party.

"Maybe you should consider a new partner in crime for party games. It's clearly not working out for you." She said teasingly.

"You might be right about that."

Unsurprisingly, Y/n found herself back in Rafa's bed that night. The happiness from the party quickly turned into a hungry neediness for one another. Y/n was easily wrapped in Rafa's arms early into the morning, tangled once again in the sheets with her lace underwear discarded on the floor. As they lay there in the post-sex bliss, Y/n softly traced her fingers along his tattoo's, dipping in and out of sleep while rafa sang quietly to her.

"Y/n are you still awake?" He asked, grogginess evident in his voice.

"Just about."

"We always end up coming back to each other, don't we?"

"Every time."

Neither of them uttered another word, nothing more needed to be said.

That was the last time the spoke to each other or saw each other for six months. Something changed for Y/n and Rafa after that night, for Y/n it felt like closure. He remained blocked on her phone and she thought that was for the best. She really had felt like she was moving on, she had been on a few dates, even had a few dick appointments; although, none were as good as him. She told herself it was the best way to move forward, she had been too static for such a long time.

As she sat in front of her full length mirror doing her make-up for a girls night out, a very long overdue night out.

Anita popped her head into Y/n's room. "You ready?"

Y/n smiled, "yeah, let's go."

The three best friends welcomed the others girls in their friendship group around for drinks before they went out and they all shared their intentions for the night. Drinking and laughing, Y/n felt at ease and when it came to her turn she laughed. "To go home alone." She said and they all cheered in response. In this moment Y/n felt the best she had for such a long time.

The girls danced the night away in small and sweaty club, the music vibrating through them and the drinks flowing heavily. At exactly 1AM in a grubby club toilet and all alone for the first time in the night, Y/n made the decision to unblock Rafael's number. She didn't tell anyone she was going to do it but it was at exactly 1AM that she peaked and in her drunken state she wanted to talk to him. She reasoned with herself that it had been long enough and it would be just old friends catching up now, if he answered. She sent him a quick text to see if he was up and within a matter of seconds her phone vibrated in her hand, his name and photo flash up on her screen. Her breath caught in her throat and she picked up but didn't say anything allowing him to speak first.

"Y/n. Are you okay?" She thought she could hear it straight away, the almost too relaxed tone to voice and just assumed he was high like he always was. She had always just wanted to fix him. "Y/n?"

She let a shaky breath. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Are you out?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah I'm at Leadmill with the girls."

"Really? I'm in the smoking area, why don't you come and say hi."

"Are you alone?" Y/n inquired, she wasn't in the mood for loads of people right now.

"I'm with Digg's but I'm sure he'll be happy to see you, he's quite faded." He laughed slowly obviously looking at Daveed as he said this.

"I'll be out in a second."

Y/n made her way out of the bathroom very aware of the dirty looks she was receiving as she left for taking so long in the cubicle. She tried to see the girls as she made her way over to the smoking area hoping she wouldn't be caught. She found the two best friends tucked away in the corner, away from the bigger groups of people. Rafael had found her before she saw them, his eyes lit up at the sight of her, and what a sight is was to see her in thigh high boots and t-shirt dress that was so short it left little to his imagination. Y/n smiled timidly, she could see from his facial expression that he was thinking about ripping her clothes off. She knew that look all too well. He lent against the wall and pulled her into him and holding her close. The feeling of his strong arms made her feel so safe and the smell of her favourite cologne on him had her weak at the knees. She was really surprised that she couldn't smell the all too familiar scent of weed on him.

"Hey you." She spoke softly in his ear.

"Hi." He tightened his arms around her, "it's been a minute, I've missed you."

She smiles to herself, at least the feeling was mutual. She pulled back and turned. "Hey Diggs."

He only nodded at her in response, his eyes closed.

"He's a man of few words tonight, he wanted to get white girl wasted, and I think he's achieved that." Rafael spoke with pride about his best friend and Y/n laughed in response. He grabbed her hand to turn her back to him pulling her close to him with that same primal look in his eyes. "You look absolutely fantastic tonight Y/n. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you."

"Shut up." Y/n felt her cheeks heat up and she tried to be coy, even though she felt really good about her look tonight. She moved even closer to him, and put one of his legs in between hers which made her dress ride up slightly. Rafael seemed to catch this and looked down, Y/n following where his eyes went. It was as if no time had passed at all and they slipped back into their groove. She heard the gulp he made as he continued to talk. "No really baby, it should illegal for you to wear that around me, the things I want to do to you..." He trailed off lost in thought but brushed his hand up her leg slowly, teasingly and it sent a shiver down Y/n's back.

Y/n's liquid courage took over. "You want to come back to mine."

He smiled at her, "best offer I've had in months."

From an outside perspective, they just looked like a regular couple. However from the perspective of her friends who were only a stone's throw away from the two, watching the scene play out they couldn't help but feel disappointed. They really thought Y/n had been doing better and they wanted to interfere, stop her from relapsing again, but they knew when she was this drunk it would only cause an argument and push her further into his arms. They watched as they touched each other and smiled like teenagers. They watched as Rafael got Daveed up and mobile enough to go back inside to their friends. He left Y/n for all of thirty seconds and they witnessed as the two stumbled passed them completely engrossed in one another. Just like they disappeared, just as they had so many times before, many moths ago.

They were hungry for one another, this had been longest they had gone without any contact since they had met. Rafa was on top of Y/n within seconds of entering her room. He attacked her body with his mouth, kissing everywhere that wasn't covered by her clothes. Y/n's head was fuzzy with pleasure feeling as though this had been the missing piece in her life. Rafa lifted his head from her neck to meet her lips again.

"I love you." He whispered in between kisses.

"I love you too." She returned in a breathless tone, without any hesitation.

He sat up and pulled her with him, removing his rather tight shirt off and giving Y/n a chance to drink him with her eyes as she caught her breath. He gave her a devilish grin as he pulled her to him. "Take everything except those boots off for me please baby." He spoke in a low tone. Y/n did as he asked and everything he asked of her that night. This night could be added to the countless others that started and ended the same way. Something about this time though, something felt different. Maybe it was the space and the not talking but they seemed to want each other even more than they had before.

When Y/n woke up the next morning he was still there, awake and sober playing with her hair while scrolling on his phone, just like it was a regular Sunday morning. Like they had never broken up. Y/n didn't feel the heavy pang of regret and stupidity and enjoyed Rafa being there. She leant up to him and gave him a soft and loving kiss, which surprised him. He hadn't realised she was awake and he certainly wasn't expecting such a warm welcome to him still being there.

"Morning." He said, sleep still clear in his voice. "Do you want me to leave?"

Y/n shook her head and pulled him down so she could hug him, he happily held her in his arms. Y/n seemed to have a sudden realisation in that moment as she took in his scent again. "Were you sober last night?" She asked in total shock.

Rafa hid his face in the crook of her neck and nodded. "Uhh… yeah I have been sober for six months now."

"Really? Rafa that's amazing. I'm so happy for you." Y/n spoke with total sincerity and no one spoke for a long time. Y/n was very aware that six months ago they had slept together for the last time and her mind began racing.

"Y/n." He broke her out of her thought.

"Hmm."

"Look there's something I want to say. I don't really know what I am expecting but can I just… speak for a bit."

"Of course."

Rafa took a deep breath in. "Okay, first of all I need to follow my steps and I need to apologise to you for everything I put you through as a result of my addiction. You really tried to do everything to keep me above water and I hurt you, over and over. The last night that we slept together I realised how much damage I had caused and I knew I had to stop sleeping with you so that we could both mend ourselves. I could see last night how much you have changed and grown, you looked even more amazing. I did everything I could to fix myself, I cut all the drink and drugs out, I cut out all the bad in my life. All those guys you always said were bad news, I even went to therapy to get a handle on my mental health." He spoke so quickly that Y/n had a hard time keeping up but he finally took a breath and continued. "I did this because I wanted to make myself a better man so that if we ever got the opportunity and if you ever wanted to speak to me again I would be in a place to value you for how amazing you really are. I don't know if you want us still but I definitely do and when you said you loved me back last night I felt like I had a little hope to hold on to."

Y/n sat in silence for a couple of minutes so stunned by his words. He stared at her, worried he had ruined the good mood until she looked back at him with a smile on her face that made his heart falter. She threw herself into him and he caught her, engulfing her in his arms.

She broke their silence. "We always come back to each other right?"

He smiled at her, the memory of that night came flooding back to him. "Every time."

#rafael casal #one shot #angst #rafael x reader #Original Work

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sojourntime-aux · 4 years

Text

Day 5 (August 6th): Facing Their Fears – What are your OC’s fears and failures? How do they deal with them? Have they been able to overcome them? Will they ever be able to?

Day 5 is a bit of a contrast from my day 4 stuff! Also I may have played fast and loose with the prompt for today, but I hope y'all enjoy these! @khoc-week

> Warning for implied death, or atleast characters MIA.

-----

Unravel

Tabitha wasn't supposed to be here, she knew that. She especially wasn't supposed to have discovered this.

'No.. no no no.. that can't be..' Tabitha stared at the place in her notebook where pages once had been. Now she was sure she had written something there. Entry upon entry, missing. 'Just like my memory.'

Tears welled up in Tabitha's eyes, although she wasn't quite sure why. All she knew was that her heart tugged at these flashes of memory she was having. The pictures of this someone else she seemed to know, to have spent time with, to have written about, to have.. Tabitha could barely remember her.

What else did they take from her memories? From everyone's memories? Who else did they take?

Betrayal

Tagen leaned on Kathrynn, the low light of her flat helping to calm his nerves. This was the most relaxed he felt in weeks.

The three of them had started their search for their missing friend only two weeks ago, after she hadn't been seen for their end of the day routine for a week. Tagen had spent days on end searching world after world, and asking everyone one he saw if they had seen her, until Tabby and Kathrynn made him stop and rest. Tagen still looked every day for their missing friend, having not given up hope she would come back.

"Do you believe she's alright?" Tagen mumbled, trying to be hopeful. Kathrynn stopped in the middle of running her fingers through his hair, almost frozen.

"W-what?" Tagen opened his eyes and lifted his head, pulling away from Kathrynn a bit. He could tell there was something wrong with her, just wasn't sure what.

"Tabitha. Do you think she's okay?"

"Um... Yeah sure, if that's what you believe..." Kathrynn glanced down, unable to look Tagen in the eye. Tagen narrowed his eyes, giving Kathrynn a distrustful look.

"Do you know something?" With those words he could see he hit a nerve. He was on his feet now, glaring at her, staring her down with anger burning in him.

"What do you know Kathrynn."

She had followed him onto his feet. She only glanced up at Tagen for moment, but long enough for him to see the overwhelming guilt written on her face.

"I-i'm sorry.." Kathrynn tried to reach out for him, but Tagen backed away. The two of them had become a lot closer over the past couple weeks, closer than they had ever been. That was gone now. Tagen drew his keyblade, wincing at the heat in his hand. He then pointed it directly at Kathrynn.

"Where. is. Tabitha."

Darkness

It could only be a matter of time, right? The more she thought about it, the more Kathrynn felt the claws of uncertainty within her.

'Could I already have that within me?' Perhaps Tagen's ramblings should have been put a stop. They were what probably got Tabitha. And Tagen... He gave in probably long before she could have known. 'But I should have. I should have seen it. It was right in front of me, wasn't it?'

Tagen's words still echoed within Kathrynns mind, some of them haunting her to her core, some just making her sick. She kept telling herself she had to be strong, she still had Tabby to protect. She couldn't give into all this like they had.

'But didn't I already?'

Loss

"Hey Tabby, you okay? You seemed a little bit lost in your head today." Tabby looked over at Tagen, who was currently helping him put away dishes before they headed up to the rooftops.

"Yes. I guess I've just got something on my mind is all. Its nothing big." Tabby said, and he put the last dish back in its place.

"Spill. Y'know you can always talk to me." Tagen turned around and leaned back against the sink, making a bit of a point that he wasn't going anywhere until Tabby talked.

"Okay... Well you ever get this feeling that your mostly just a face in the background? And not much else?" Tabby glanced over at his friend, who was giving him a look.

"Is that how you feel?"

"Sometimes.. I don't know, I guess." Tabby confessed. "I just wonder if I've made a big enough impression on the world, to be worth remembering."

Tabby carried out two bowls to the table outside his house. Kathrynn still wasn't talking much, but atleast she was eating. Setting down what he was carrying, Tabby gently pushed a bowl of hot stew in front of his friend.

"Here. It's nice and hot."

"..thank you." The was usually the only response he got now.

Tabby look at the other spots at the table, that had once almost always been filled. There used to be so much chatter around their little picnic table, now it was just...silence. Kathrynn didn't even want to go up to rooftops anymore. Tabby didn't know what was wrong, he could only assume it was heartbreak for their two missing friends.

Slowly their little group had fallen apart, and Tabby couldn't help but wonder about which one of them would be next to go missing, and if he did, he would just fade into obscurity...

-ERROR-

Remember

The girl glanced back over at Tabitha, catching her staring.

"Need something, sugar?" She asked playfully. Tabitha only blushed, shaking her head and mumbling out a small 'No.' Kathrynn and the other chuckled.

Suddenly the girl moved, making Tabitha look up again, only to gasp slightly. She was holding the heart shaped glasses out, giving them over to Tabitha. She knew Tabitha had never seen her without them, but that wasn't the purpose behind this action.

"Here sugar, take 'em. They're a little lucky in the finding things department, so maybe they'll help you find some answers." She could tell Tabitha was still a little flustered, which made the other girl smirk. She took the opportunity to slip the glasses onto Tabitha's face gently herself.

"There. Now," She stood up and stretched, running her hand through Tabitha's fuzz. "Ive gotta turn in early, big line up for tomorrow. But I'll meet you guys here again soon, 'k?" She said, looking back over rooftops, to trying and hide her own blush now.

"Bye, see you soon." Kathrynn waved. Kathrynn had clearly picked up on what the gesture ment, or atleast the part that was important. "And Tabitha says thanks."

"Oh I know." The other girl replied, before turning and making her way off the roof. Once she was on the ground, she glance back up at the roof top where her friends still were.

'Please. Tabitha. I'm doing something dangerous, and possibly stupid tomorrow. But it's for you. You have to remember me if anything happens.'

#khocweek2020 #khux oc #sojourns keykids #khux #yall ive done so much writing this week #i love these keykids #also im putting a warning on it just in case yall #💕

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starxdame · 4 years

Text

Hey stranger

Matt Murdock x OriginalFemCharacter

One shot, angst

Fandom: Daredevil

Word count: 3194

Spoiler & Warnings: none

Language: english (i haven't checked for grammatical errors yet)

••••

(gif, not mine)

Matt walked in the shop, he was just looking for some groceries when he heard a voice he never thought he would heard again.

"What-" he mumbled while turning around, searching for the source of that sound

"Mike, don't touch that! Come here, we'll get ice cream, yeah?" that voice distracted Matt from feeling a kid coming his way and bumping into him, she turned around as Matt grabbed the kid before he could hit the floor, letting him go immediately after the boy had found his balance

"I'm sorry sir" the little boy said before running towards the girl who called him a moment earlier. A couple feet away she stood still, looking at the kid and the boy she found herself in front of, she couldn't believe it. "Matt" she called him.

"Lizzie" he was left spechless, a chuckle left her lips "You remember" she said, Matt frowned before talking against "Of course", she was quick to get closer and hug him tight "It's been so long". They chatted until the kid from before, Mike, said he wanted to go to his football practise, in that moment.

"Sure we'll go now honey, take my shopping cart" Lizzie pointed to the kid the cart, not too far

"I guess i have to go" she sighed with a little smile

"Is he yours?" Matt asked, maybe in not a touchy way but, he didn't really think twice

"Mike? No he's my sister's kid, i'm babysitting him for today" she replied

"Oh okay" Matt paused, she nodded and looked for the kid who was coming back to her

"You wanna go out for a coffee sometime?" he said tapping his cane on the floor a couple of times, a nervous tick he had

"Sure" she replied smiling, she caressed his arm lightly

"How about tomorrow?" he couldn't wait, he felt like a teenager again

"Sounds good to me" they both chuckled, and planned on the little date for the next day

[ten years ago]

Foggy ran to the bathroom, Matt and Lizzie turned one toward the other thinking the same thing, but no, he wasn't threwing up, the boy screamed at both of them to follow him

"I just hope he's not naked" Lizzie said laughing, standing up and giving her hand to Matt who agreed and took it

"I'm sorry but, you wouldn't suffer like i would" she pointed out, "Right" he laughed freely, they were so, SO, drunk, that they couldn't stand up by themselves, they stumbled at every step, risking to fall on the floor anytime.

As they entered in the bathroom they noticed Foggy sitting in the bathtub, his legs up to one side, in his hand the bottle almost finished

"It's SOOOO comfy, get in here!" he said jumping out and grabbing Matt's hand, dragging him halfway in, Matt held onto Lizzie who almost fell on him, the two boys hitting their heads against the wall.

"Okay, easy" she said keeping herself standing by resting her hand against the wall, right above Matt

"I don't wanna crack my head open like you two dumbasses", she moves them and sits down in between, passing her hands on their heads

"You two are really, really dumb" she commented shaking her head, inspecting their heads to see if they had actually got hurt. She was definitely the "momfriend", has always been, caring and keeping an eye out for them.

"And you just got that now??" Foggy asked, a confused expression on his face

"Fair enough" she said moving a little "It's weirdly comfortable" Matt pointed out, out of the blue. Oh yeah, they were wasted.

"I KNOW" Foggy screamed back, making the other two jump and laugh like kids.

They talked for hours, they were exhausted and at some point they simply passed out, leaning one against the other.

Not much time later Foggy moved, jumping out to threw up in the wc, groaning while going back to sleep, his head resting against the side of the tub. Lizzie moved too, waking up Matt, who confused and dizzy moved following her movements. She lied on her back with her legs stretched, Matt cuddled up on her side, putting his head on her chest and resting his hand on her stomach, she took off his glasses and randomly played with his curls, she always wanted to do that, the thin lock escaped her fingers as she moved her other hand to rest on Foggy's arm, who was sleeping too.

Hours later the strong light coming from the windows of the living room woke up Lizzie. Groaning she tried to move, but couldn't, a weight held her down, when she opened her eyes she found Matt holding her tightly, with both his arms around her body. She couldn't really remember much of what happened the night before and just the thought of trying to concentrate on it made her feel as if the headache started to grow in her head, pounding hard, she closed her eyes again. Her fingers started playing with his hair just like she had done hours before. She didn't notice but he had just woken up and a smile grew on his lips as she continued the touch, it was so relaxing and intimate, he didn't want to move, this had been the closer interaction they've had, ever.

His head was feeling heavy, and he could shut all the noises from outside only if focusing on her, her hand moved down to his jaw and gave it a caress, Matt who was still smiling got distracted, someone walked in: Foggy.

"ABOUT TIME!" why was he so loud? she groaned bringing both her hands to her hears

"Oh no, don't" he knew what she meant but scoffed and continued

"NO THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR THROWING ME OUT" again, he was hurting his own hears but he was enough stubborn to ignore it and keep doing it

"What are you talking about? You left." Matt commented while sitting, Foggy looked at him confused, non believing him

"You really did, you got out to threw up and then fell asleep outside" Lizzie confirmed, Foggy hummed and then talked "Mh okay", he simply said, disappearing behind the door and coming back a moment later "Ah and...just get together already,! Stop acting as if you didn't enjoy this night like crazy and took advantage from it, you pigs" he pointed at the two still in the tub and then left, they laughed awkwardly, later falling into a deep confused silence, did he just exposed them like that?

[now]

It's 3 pm.

She's waiting sitting on a bench when he comes her way

"Hey stranger" Lizzie says smiling,

"Hey to you" Matt hugged her, loving every second of it, he missed her, he smiles letting her go

"Let's go" They met and immediately hit it off, they stay for a while in a cafe, then they start walking around. They chat the whole time of good times, memories, difficulties, not many filters between em, it was as if nothing had changed, but they surely had. A couple of hours had passed when the temperature started to drop, the wind was cold, freezing. Sadly the date would have had to finish like that. They both took a cab, and when it stopped in front of Matt's building he realized he couldn't have let her go like that

"You wanna come and see the appartment, you can see my upgrade" he commented chuckling,

"Well, it would be mean of me to refuse, right?" they both got out after paying and he made it's way in the building.

They talked some more, until things got a little more personal

"It's not bad, maybe a little messy" she commented biting her lip lightly

"It's not like many people will come here anyway, so" the sound her mouth made, like her tongue had just clicked. He froze, sounds getting blurry

"Hey" she called him, her hands on his face brought him back, her cold fingers traced lines down his warm cheek

He moved slowly, leaning in, teasing her lips with his. She leaned in as well, pushing him towards her with her hands. The moment they connected, everything slowed down, they weren't rushing it, they were tasting every second until they had to stop, to split, just enough to breath, their forhead one against the other. They chuckled softly and held each other close for a while.

This was the moment every insecurities would collide and love, as simple as it is, rises.

Lizzie's hands were on him before his could leave her body, she reached for his shirt, Matt smirked as she quickly unbuttoned it, passing her hands through his chest, she felt something with the tips of her fingers: little flaws on his body, not that she had ever gone this far with him but it surprised her, if not for one quick mistake, she had never seen him naked, or ish and it was like he didn't have those at the time they knew each other, she couldn't knew but she felt it.

She stopped for a moment but he wanted this so bad, always have, this moment, her, he tried to bring her back. He took some steps back till he gets to the bed, he sit on the edge, bringing her closer by holding the fabric of her dress, snapping her back to him, to the moment, all her attention on his beautiful figure. His hands at first fell on her hips, guiding her to sit on his lap, then reached for the zip on her back, she ran her hands through his hair, caressing its way down to his neck, bringing herself closer to him, sitting closer. His lips connected with her shoulder, leaving wet kissed down to her arm and then back up to her neck, shivers left where his hands had just passed on her back, uncovering it, making the dress fall off. A light giggle made him bring his attention to her lips, grabbing a little roughly her jaw, intensifying the kiss from the start, she moved closer wanting more, they had missed so much of each other, today was the day, their chest touching, his hands holding her hips so close even their stomach were one against the other, short breaths, hearts never felt so full. Panting filled the room, the sound of clothes being thrown to the floor, the sheet been moved, grunting, the bed creaking, moans. Their names filled the room in a moment of pure silence. It was intense. They remembered every single time they had wanted more from each other and never had.

In the dark room Lizzie's fingers found her way to the marks she had found earlier on his body, but she didn' ask yet, she just sat between his legs, she leaned in

"I was in love you" Matt said quietly, just a moment before Lizzie's lips could connect with his. She felt like her heart had just skipped a beat, and Matt knew it, and it petrified him. Was. In all this she had completely removed all those years, she acknowledged the distance and left it behind for just that moment, but never imagined it would have hit her so damn hard. Why did he even say that.

"I fell a long time ago and never really got up" she breathed out all at once, she wasn't sure about anything in her life, but she never dubted her love for him, simply never needed to doubt, it was what it was. Of course, she lived her life but it was as if her feelings kept themselves alive under the surface.

"All these years?" Matt asked calmly, she moved back, sitting as she was before he took this subject into the conversation

"I guess" she knew it wasn't the true, she didn't need to guess, her heart started beating faster

"You guess?" he replied a little annoyed, and she panicked and so she took a moment to herself, she did what she always did best, escaped as long as she could, she stood up

"You thristy?" she asked already walking into the living room, looking back when she had arrived behind the kitchen counter, he just gave her a wave as to say no, she took a glass and poured some water

"This appartment is not bad at all, y'know?" she commented standing in front of the big windows in the living room, sipping her water

He hummed lightly, walking right next to her "I guess" his tone, these smartass answers are what she hated and loved the most about him, she scoffed

"C'mon, really?" she asked keeping her gaze and her half smile towards the glass, what did he have to be like that

"Do you still love me?" his voice was quiet, he cut the crap, straight up asking it, he was nervous and his voice made it so obvious, but she was so scared to admit it, to say it that she overthinked it so hard and made her hear annoyance in his voice, which there were none. She was being paranoid. She sighed

"Why did you wait after that, to ask?" her hand patted nervous against her thigh, they both knew what she was implying, he scoffed not believing what he had just heard, he moved in front of her and took her face in his hands

"Hey! I've changed alright but- i'm not like that. I wouldn't..." his voice was soft like his touch, his face had fallen, he was genuinely disappointed that he made her think that. He frowned and pouted with his lips.

She sighed "Right...sorry" it felt like a punch to see him like that. Lizzie looked away, her gaze not anywhere specific, everything was just blurry and dark, his hands resting on her shoulders now.

"I love you Matt" she added, nodding for herself "I do" her low voice cracked, she was quick to escape his hands, he stood still for a moment, just what it took her to go back to the bedroom and slip inside her dress, wear her shoes and take her purse. Matt stopped her by gripping her wrist, he should have said something, but he got distracted, she waited longer than she should have, in silence, waiting for him to do or say something. A kiss, even if it would have been bitter, would have been better than to walk out shattered like she did. She slipped from his touch and he listened to everysingle step she took, down does stairs, the way her heart was beating fast, her shaky breath, the long breath she took once she was out on the side walk.

"Such a heartthrob" Elektra commented appearing coming down the stairs, he knew it

"I told you not to come here" he said, his mind still with Lizzie

"Oh but this was so much interesting than just calling" she brushed his arm lightly, making him snap and slam her against the wall

"You shut up." He insisted, the rage was growing inside of him, he takes a deep breath

"Now, this is the you i wanna see when we're fighting out there" she added chuckling but he was in no mood to keep up with anyone's crap

"Get the Hell out of here" he insisted before letting Elektra go, his voice was low but firm.

"Whatever, see you Grumpy" she added walking out, she was intrigued but it took so little for him to go back to being boring that she didn't care to stay.

Matt got dressed and called Foggy to meet him at Josie's. The moment he walked in the other could tell it had been a bad day

"Hey, we would have liked your help, you know? A new client came in this afternoon, seems like a good one-" Foggy tried to put it out there, to test the ground, but Matt stopped him halfway through

"Lizzie" Matt voice betrayed him, breaking, he took a sip from his drink

"Lizzie?" Foggy asked confused, then he realized "That Lizzie!? What happened?" he asked lifting his eyebrows in misbeliefs

Everytime her name was being said it felt like a punch in the guts, and Foggy couldn't really, why was he acting like that, what had happened.

"You mean...The Lizzie that brought you back to yout feet after the thing with Elektra, who is still in town?" Foggy had just blown his own mind, and was still confused, Matt nooded ligthly

"Damn Matt, it's the come back of your exes" it was a little funny, but he didn't laugh, just smiled a little, just because he knew, Matt was not really there with his head

"She never was" Matt stated with a low voice and a sigh, exhausted, still not really there

"What do you mean?" Foggy asked confused again

"We were never together...Liz and i" again, her name

"But you two liked each other, admit it" Foggy commented, he waited a while but it felt like Matt wasn't even there anymore

"Listen, she really cared for us, she was our friend. She spent almost a month trying to help you get your shit together, Matt. She never left you not even when you told her to, she was a hell of a friend, a keeper." Matt didn't say a single word, so Foggy kept going

"I think she was just our friend at first, but then you swept her off her feet, all those times i left you two alone, you grew close, it was obvious."

As Foggy kept talking Matt's face gave many different signals, he remembered perfectly what he was talking about, he never found the courage to tell her, and she never did either, until he asked, and acted like an asshole

"I met her" Matt finally spoke

"I figured that out...and?" Foggy leaned on the table

"We catched up a little and then we-uhm" Matt wet his lips, now he imagined her, he could have just let it go but, no, he had to ask and ruin it all

"Oh!" Foggy exclaimed "Wow, well, it was time!" Matt had stopped again, full of thoughts, he should have done something

"And then something obviously went wrong...what was it?" Foggy waited for more

"I told her that i was in love with her and-" Matt stopped, his head was spinning, his thoughts were blocking him

"Wait. So she knows now" Foggy stated

"I said i was" Matt pointed out, he repeated it, in a lower voice, why did he say it like that

"I acted like an asshole, i asked and asked until she said she still loved me and then i didn't say anything, i didn't stop her and she left" he sighed bringing his hands to his face

"What?" Foggy was following but was hoping to have it got it wrong, the other sighed again

"I love her Foggy" Matt murmured, before taking another sip from his drink, he zoned out again. Foggy was not surprised but he also did not know where to start, he sighed ordering other two drinks.

•••

I gave it a try.

I haven't posted my work in so long and might start to post more. Please, feel free to give me some advice.

#daredevil #matt murdock #charlie cox #netflix #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock imagine #angst #fanfiction

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mercenary-jake-muller · 4 years

Text

Fanart By Vanadise:

《...........................................................》

Jake Muller's Journal || Entry 01

《.............................................................》

November 12, 2019

"I hate days like these.

These types of days where I don't have to do shit. Just sit around all day and not do a damn thing.

People say I should relax more and sure, I like to relax some days. Hell, I need to sometimes, but what I hate is having to relax or sit around for too long. I always gotta do something or I just don't feel right, you know? I always think if I stay in one place for too long then there's a chance I can get attacked and hit the dirt as a forever resting place. Maybe it's the merc in me makin' me feel this way... Always on edge. Always in danger.

Since I got nothin' to do, I guess I'll just keep writing in this journal.

God, I'm not really good at this shit--writing my thoughts down... Well whatever. Here goes nothing.

It's fuckin' cold outside. It's so cold that I could have freaking ice cycles comin' out my nose. While I was outside, my eye lashes were practically frozen together. I had bits of snowflakes all over me and my fingers were so cold that it hurt to move 'em when I needed to. Well, to be honest, the cold never really bothered me 'cause I grew up in it, yeah? Had no heating system when I was growing up. I only had my own body heat and one or two torn up blankets. When I was a little older, my mom would always try to make me get her blanket, too, but I would refuse 'cause I didn't want to make her freeze to death. I remember when I was real young, before she got sick, she would lie to me and tell me she didn't need any blankets to keep her warm. I'd always wake up in the middle of the night and check on her only to find her shakin' like a leaf, curled in her bed. I'd go grab all of my blankets and throw 'em on her and I wouldn't leave her side till she'd stop shakin'. Then I'd lay down on the floor and stay there with her during the rest of the night to make sure she didn't freeze anymore. I didn't mind being cold if it meant she would be warm enough to sleep. After all, she worked all day, everyday, and I would be at home most of the time.

I'm in some fancy hotel room. The place is pretty nice and has air conditioning and running electricity and honestly it's way too fancy for me. There was a fuckin' towel folded up as a penguin on my bed. Like the hell? Who the hell gives a shit about what their towel looks like? Just give it to me so I can use it to dry off. The walls are all a dark red, the floor is a pale, tanned colored carpet, and the doors are the same color as the carpet. There's three fancy paintings of flowers and some of the other buildings that can be found in the town hangin' up in the bedroom, bathroom, and small lounging area. The bed has tan bed sheets and pillow cases and the blanket is a dark red-- almost the same color as the walls. There's a television placed on the dresser across from the foot of my bed, but I'm not gonna bother watching it. Never liked watching television, anyway. There's a big window on the right side of my bed. The drapes are the same color as the walls and the glass on the outside has frost covering most of it.

I'm only stayin' in this place 'cause a lady I was working for told me she was gonna pay for my stay while I'm in this small town. I finished a job for her two days ago. Had to kill some high and mighty prick who thought he'd win a mayor election by sending BOW's out to terrorize the town. He thought he could win by sending out military personnel to dispose of the monsters and pretend that he was the good guy. I hate people like that, who pretend to be somethin' they aren't just to get something they want. I'm not sure when I'll be getting another job. That's why I'm not leaving yet. Hopefully I'll get one soon so I can get the hell outta here and start movin' again. These jobs take me all over the world and I think I enjoy seeing the sights, culture, and people as much as I like taking up assignments. I really love tryin' new food and drinks, like different types of coffee.

Damn, coffee sounds good right about now...

Just sat down on my bed and got me a cup of black coffee while I was up. Took a quick shower to warm me up, too, and I kinda felt bad messin' up the penguin towel. Wonder how long it took the staff to fold it like that? Well, whatever. I bet they already have tons of others made that way, too. They gotta wash and dry the towels anyway. Got my pajamas on, also. Just a pair of navy blue, cotton pants. I never wear a shirt cause it's just uncomfortable wearing one when I sleep. Doesn't matter how cold it is, I still get too hot and sweat like a dog.

What else to write...?

...

Lookin' outside the window now as I gulp down my drink. It makes me warm up from the inside and so do a few memories. On days like these, where I don't have to do anything, all sorts of memories flood to the front of my mind. Good ones, bad ones...

All of 'em.

Used to, when I'd look out of a window while it was snowing, the snow would always remind me of my mom--and it still does, sometimes. Though, now when I see the snow... It reminds me of Sherry. It reminds me of the first day we met and how we had to survive together. I thought she was a preppy, know-it-all bitch who couldn't do a damn thing, but man, did she prove me wrong. She could beat the shit outta anyone and anything that got in her way and I bet she would have done the same to me if she had to.

I remember when Ustanak, the crazy fucker, had shot down our helicopter and we landed in the snow. Somehow, we had survived the fall even though our parachute had gotten torn by the metal debris. I had blacked out and woken up to Sherry laying on top of me. My brain woke up real quick when I had lifted my hand to find it was covered in blood and I hurriedly got myself out from under her. My heart was pounding rapidly against my chest and a cold sweat came over me as I began to panic when I saw she had a piece of metal sticking out of her back. On the inside, I was freaking out 'cause some chick I just met was about to die in front of me. I kept thinking how it should have been me who should have had the shrapnel lodged into my back. Not her. Not some innocent woman. I doubt she had done anything bad in her life, while I had done all kinds of horrible shit...

She surprised me when she told me to pull it out of her and I thought she was nuts when she just begged me to do it. So I did. I pulled the thing outta her, tossed it to the side, and as I was about to start ripping pieces of clothing to make some sort of bandage, I was shocked to find her skin and muscles pulling themselves back together.

I gotta admit, that shit freaked me the hell out.

After a while I got used to it. It was just part of her and something that helped formed her personality. I think she hated having it, though. Probably 'cause it reminded her of her parents and the shit she had to go through as a kid. I never asked her about it, though.

I hope she's doing okay these days. Hopefully she isn't doin' anything stupid or getting herself into trouble. It's been seven years since I've last seen or heard from her. ...I wonder if she even remembers me. Well if she doesn't then it won't bother me. I couldn't care less if she remembers me or not.

....

F U C K !

I spilled my fuckin' coffee all over me and my journal-! Son of a fuckin' bitch! Damn this shit burns like he--

.....

The coffee has dried finally and now I can end this entry. God dammit. Didn't think I'd get so sidetracked while thinkin' about Supergirl. Spilled my own drink all over me and I had to change my pants. Now there's a big coffee stain over a few pages. Oh well. So long as I can still write in this thing. That's all that matters to me.

Well, the sun is goin' down and I think I'm gonna get some shut eye. Hopefully tomorrow I'll get a new client so I don't have to stay here and get stuck in my memories for too long.

Jake Muller"

《You find some extra writing on the back of the page. It appears to have been scribbled over by three continuous, messy lines.》

"I need to stop thinking about her. Need to stop worrying about her so much. I'm sure she's doin' fine and has some pretty boy helping her out and giving her everything she could wish for. You can't give her everything she wants and you sure as hell can't stay by her side cause you gotta work. You don't wanna be like dad and leave her alone for the rest of her life... Besides, you're not good enough for her. She needs someone better than you. Time to move on, Jake....Even if you can't stop thinking about her. Dammit...

《...........................................................》

#jake muller #sherry birkin #chris redfield #albert wesker #resident evil #resident evil 6 #re6 #journal #journal entry #character journal #writing

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belphegor1982 · 5 years

Note

That blonde woman who was with Jonathan still waited his call for days and jonathan didn't know how tell her "sorry for not call you, my nephew was kidnapped by a mummy and you know"

I started writing a reply and it turned into a fic :3 (Thanks a LOT - again - to @thisstableground for the Britpick! And Em, I hope you don’t mind that I published it before you sent it back. I know you’re crazy busy, I just hope RL is being kind to you.)

Call Me (on AO3 / on FFnet)

To think the evening had begun so well.

Minnie – real name Winifred Cooper, but who used real names in this game – had found a suitable rich idiot, they’d had a few drinks, made attempts at conversation (not that she really listened to him; one rich twit was as good as another and the only thing rich twits were good for in the end was money), and after a bit of a snog he’d taken her home for more.

His ‘home’ looked like a manor. Minnie couldn’t believe her luck.

Unfortunately that was when the evening went from promising to just plain weird. And not the fun sort of weird, either.

Judging from the look on her toff’s face – Jonathan, he said his name was, and he did look like a Jonathan more than she did a Winifred – people with stormy looks on their faces barging into his room wasn’t part of his plans.

“Oh, sorry,” he said with a nervous grin, “we must be in the wrong house.”

Minnie’s smile froze. But he’d had the keys and everything…?

“I thought you said this was your house,” she said, eyeing thestrange men in red robes striding towards her and Jonathan. Wait, wasthat a knife in the bloke’s belt!?

One of the men roughly pulled her away. She had ample time to checkthat this was, indeed, a very long, very deadly-looking knife with ahilt that appeared to be made of ivory and looked quite valuable.

The pitch of Jonathan’s voice climbed several notches when heretorted, “No, I didn’t!”

Minnie was about to protest, but a quick mental review of the evening– even accounting for the fact that she had only listened to hisprattle with one ear – confirmed that he had never actually saidthe house was his. Now she thought of it, it was even doubtful thathe’d said he even lived there.

But he had said he was rich. Several times, in fact.

Minnie resisted the thug manhandling her for a couple of seconds tostick her head in the door and say, “Call me!” just in casebefore the red-robed stranger closed the door in her face.

The next minute she realised the futility of her request. Whoeverthose men were, whatever the reason for their presence – and shehad a hunch it was about money – Jonathan was undoubtedly notgetting out of the room in one piece. She had wasted an entireevening on a man who was probably neither rich nor a complete idiotand almost certainly going to meet a ghastly end. The best thing wasto discreetly retrieve her coat and bag from downstairs and leg itwhile she still could.

…The door to the corridor was locked.

Minnie’s grandfather had been a hansom cab driver, and the old dearhad taught her a number of colourful and very creative oaths. Sheexhumed half of them from her memory to curse the air blue.

And then screamed as gunfire erupted from the next room.

In a haze of terror she tried to break down the door, only to findthat the hinges were on the inside. She looked about wildly andspotted a large wardrobe.

Minnie didn’t stop to think. She flung herself among the clothesand slammed the door shut.

The gunfire continued, louder than the earlier thunderstorm. She madeherself as small as she could, flinching every two seconds, her eyesscrewed shut. It seemed to last a long, long time.

After what felt like hours, Minnie realised that silence had fallen.There was no sound at all except the creaks of the wood when sheshifted. Maybe it was safe to come out, after all – even thoughshe’d have to cross the next room to get out. Considering whatshe’d heard, she wasn’t that keen on it. There were probably goryremains splattered everywhere in that room.

At least she’d be out of this madhouse, though.

Her hand found the door of the wardrobe and she pushed.

And pushed.

And spewed the rest of her grandfather’s curses when the damn thingdidn’t open.

Minnie raged, she cried, she whimpered, she swore, but she remainedlocked inside the wardrobe. At some point she gave up and slumped onthe floor between the coats, trousers, and dresses, thoroughlymiserable.

Wait, dresses?

Either Jonathan was a little more unusual than she’d thought or thelittle weasel was married and had kept mum about it. She was usuallyso skilled at spotting the traces a ring left on a man’s finger,too.

She spent a long time wondering exactly when the evening had turnedinto such an unmitigated disaster and feeling sorry for herselfbefore she gave in to boredom and fell asleep.

.⅋.

Minnie was abruptly woken up by a footstep approaching her hidingplace and the door being yanked open.

She screamed.

Jonathan screamed.

He stopped first and clutched his chest dramatically.

“Good God, woman,” he gasped, “what the hell are you doinghere?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snapped, all too awareof the countless little kinks and aches in her body and the fact thather mascara must have painted black tracks on her cheeks. Jonathan,she noted, looked dishevelled and tired, but completely unharmed. Howon earth…?

Minnie made to clamber out of the wardrobe, her whole body stiff andawkward. He didn’t help her out, too busy goggling at her.

“The bloody door was locked,” she spat, trying to untangle herlegs. Her tight dress wasn’t helping any. “And I wasn’t aboutto intrude on your little party, was I? Especially not once peoplestarted shooting all over the place!”

As if on cue, a tall man in a blue shirt ran into the room, holding agun in each hand and pointing both of them at her and Jonathan.

She gave a high-pitched squeal, and Jonathan yelped.

“Who are you?” the man asked with an American accent, his eyesnarrowing at her. “No, wait, I don’t care. Jonathan, take care ofit – and when this whole thing is over you and me are gonna have achat. Remember, twenty minutes.”

And he was gone in the blink of an eye.

Minnie was too angry and frazzled to be surprised.

“What is wrong with you people!?” she cried. ��Costumedfreaks! Machine guns! Bloody… cowboys! What the hell?!”

“Well,” said Jonathan with a weak attempt at a smile, “at leasta resurrected mummy didn’t try to kill you. I’d count that as awin.”

Minnie stared at him, still vibrating with anger and residual fright,and opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She pushed past him andstormed out, only stopping on the entrance steps of the house.

It had stopped raining, but humidity hung in the air and it wascolder than even an English June night had any right to be. Thecountryside might be less smoky and dirty than London, but it wasalways colder, stranger, always reminding her that she felt better inthe middle of bustling traffic and busy streets. She belatedlyremembered that the nearest train station must be at least ten milesaway and cast a forlorn glance at her shoes, knowing they would notlast nearly as long. Then it hit her that she had left her coat andbag somewhere inside the house, and she sank on the stone steps witha frustrated sigh.

After a while, she started badly when she felt something heavy andwarm drop on her shoulders. The familiar perfume registered beforeshe recognised the coat as the one she’d worn earlier tonight,before the madness started.

Jonathan handed her her bag and sat clumsily beside her, drawing ahip flask from a pocket. He had changed his clothes, and lookedmarginally less foolish without his wilted dinner jacket.

“I called you a taxi,” he said.

You’re the taxi,Minnie almost retorted. She curbed the automatic childish sarcasm andwiped her cheeks with the heels of her hands.

She really could have done with some of what must be in that hipflask.

“Sorry about that wardrobe. The door’s always been a bittroublesome.”

Oh, what the hell. Might as well make small talk.

“I thought you said it wasn’t your house,” she said in alow voice. Jonathan didn’t smile, but something twinkled in hiseyes. He took a mouthful from his flask and threw her a sidewayslook.

“I never said that.”

“Then what…?”

“It’s my family’s house. My sister lives here with her husbandand her son. Rick’s actually a good chap when you know him, he’sjust a little on edge – what with those blighters in the red takingEvy, then the whole nasty business with Imhotep and the mummies onthe bus, then Alex being kidnapped…”

Minnie watched him rattle off things that made absolutely no sense atall, wondering if she should actually wait for the taxi to come pickher up or get away from him as fast as she could. Curiosity overrodesense.

“So Alex is your nephew?”

“Hm-hm.”

“And he’s been kidnapped?”

“That’s right.”

Minnie usually considered herself a pretty good judge of when peoplewere lying or not – when she decided to pay attention, anyway.Jonathan’s voice sounded on the offhand side of neutral, but thelittle worry lines around his mouth and the deep crease between hiseyebrows told her that, of all the nonsense she had witnessedtonight, this at least was real and personal.

“How old is he?”

“Eight.”

Something tightened in the region of her chest. Toff or not, that wasan awful thing to happen to a kid so young.

“Eightyears, three months and, er,seventeendays old,Ibelieve.” Jonathan rubbeda hand over his face and let out a slightly shaky breath.

Compassionand anger were having a go at each other in Minnie’s mind. How darehe. How darehe make her feel sorry for him and the kid. Whoever had kidnapped thechild were probably after the kind of ransom you’d expect peopleliving in a stately home like this to pay: the familywould either call the police or pay a lot of money and everythingwould be right as rain.

That hipflask was looking more and more tempting by the minute.

Everything– the evening she’d had, the damp cold despite her coat, theawkwardness of the situation – rattledaroundher brain louder than a train clatteringalong its rails. Inthe racket she heard herself say, softer than she meant to, “I’msorry.”

Jonathan’shead jerked towards her, as though she had just reminded him she wasthere. His eyes followed her gaze to the hip flask he was stillholding between two fingers. He handed it to her wordlessly, and shetook it with a nod of thanks.

Thankgoodness for posh twits who carried silver hip flasks. Jonathandidn’t stint himself on booze. The whisky was top notch.

Minnie wasnot the sort of girl who went red and giggly after only a sip ofalcohol. She had learned the dangers of that early on. But shecouldn’t help a snort.

“Ijust wanted afun evening with a rich idiot, you know that? And you, sir, are justlousyat the rich idiot thing.”

Jonathanpocketed his hip flask and shrugged. “Well, Ionly wanted a fun evening. But it looks like neither of us is gettingwhat we want tonight, doesn’t it.” He tilted his head to the sideand looked at her. “Tell me something. When we started, er…talking…”

“Is thatwhat you call it?” Minnie slipped in slyly. Jonathan looked ratherput out.

“Yes,well, I’m quite aware I might not have been the most scintillatingconversationalist, but then again neither have you, so.”

Sheresented that remark. Or maybe resembled it.

The nerveof that man.

“Whatwere you looking for, really? A good time, or a mark?”

The wordsurprised her. Maybe he really wasn’t as wet as he looked.

Andmaybe pigs were flying in the night sky, aswell,because Winifred Cooper took a look at herself and answered honestly.

“…Both?”

Jonathanlooked at her, his expression inscrutable. Thenhe shrugged with a smile that had more than a touch of silliness.

“Youreally got short-changed on both, didn’t you? Your evening was anightmareand I’m flat broke.”

“What!?”Minnie’s eyes went round.

“Or nearenough, anyway. As it turns out, it’s a bad idea to trustuntrustworthy people.”

“Oh.”

Justhow gullible washe, really?

Thesound of anoncoming motor and wheels creaking on the gravel of the drivewayinterrupted her trainof thoughtand she looked up to see a taxistopping near the house. Jonathan stood up with a wince and held outhis hand.

“Lookslike your carriage hasarrived,Milady. Come on, up you get.”

Minnietook theprofferedhand, holdingher coat tightlyshut.Whenhe let go she almost had to quash a pang of regret. His hand had beenwarm.

Beforeshe closed the door of the taxi,something – temporary insanity,no doubt – made her call him back.

“Jonathan?”

Jonathanwas halfway up the steps to the house. He turned back to her with aslightlystartled expression.

“Look…Thisevening really has been, um…”

“Anunequivocal disaster?”

“Somethinglike that. Itwas fun, though, before… Well, before.” Not that Minnie wanted torepeat the experience. Maybe she should start chasing the broodyloners from now on. Quirky airheads were deceptively dangerous.“Aboutyour nephew… Could you give me a call when you get him back? Justso I know he’s safe.”

Immediatelyafter she mentally kicked herself. Nevergetting involved in any way wasn’t just a convenientdefencemechanism, it was a necessary one. Congratulations,you sap, now he thinks you care.

Shedefinitely didn’t. Not a jot. What was it to her, really. Manyother kids had it much worse every day.

Jonathanstared at her, looking taken aback. Then he smiled.

“I’lldo that, then. Thank you, Minnie.”

Thatwas when she realised that she would havetonever see him again. Batting her eyelashes to part fools andtheir money and fooling around for a good time was one thing; takingadvantage of a moment of vulnerability was too low, even for her.Minnie couldn’t in good conscience say that she wasa woman ofprinciple, but she did have standards. And she didn’t do personal.That way lay danger.

Shecouldn’t help turning back in her seat just before the taxileft the driveway for the road. The steps were deserted; Jonathan hadgone back inside the house.

Onecall, she told herself firmly. That’s it. Then it’sbusiness as usual.

No harmever came from making one single phone call, after all.

.⅋.

Notes:

I’mnot saying I had “Minnie the Moocher” in my head the whole time Iwas writing this, but… I kinda did :D ThisMinnie doesn’t have a “heart as big as a whale”, though. Maybea dogfish shark :3 Still,Iliked creating her. She’s a gold digger and owns up to it, but doeshave standards.

Hope you liked!

#fanfiction #the mummy #the mummy returns #the mummy films #answer #Jonathan Carnahan #my stuff #Anonymous

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