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pandorasprongs · 1 year

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JAMIE TARTT | and i don't even like you that much. wait, i do. f*ck.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

SUMMARY: jamie is actually a board game nerd and starts spending more time with one of the employees of a local shop.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: this idea came to me as someone asked me if i wanted to buy another volume of a board game we had HAHA if you can figure out what game i'm referring to in this story, hmu! alsooo i want to apologize for the length i swear i didn't mean for it to get that long, but still, i hope you all enjoy! title is from the song 'apple cider' by beabadoobee!

It was another slow morning in the store, given that most of your frequent customers were forced to be in school at this time. You ended up continuing one of the readings for your class during your shift. Despite a wave of drowsiness hitting you the moment you opened the book, it was still better having free time to be tired than the afternoon rush when 13-year-old boys came in to get another booster pack of Magic: The Gathering cards.

You were practically setting all these children up for a gambling addiction the way they'd spend 20 pounds trying to get one of those shiny ones in their deck. You never bothered to learn the names really, because that wasn't part of your job description. When it came to those kinds of things, those boys probably knew more than you did.

When it came to board games though, that was your area of expertise. It was partly one of the reasons you applied to work here while you were finishing up your Master's, — and also because of how generous the owner was with your salary, — so you always loved helping people out for their board game nights. You didn't have regulars that would come in often, but here and there, there would be a person you recognize from before asking about another game.

You don't know how much time had passed, but after deciding that your brain could no longer take reading the word cognitive multiple times in a sentence, you end up shutting the book and resting your head on the counter.

Soon after though, you hear the bell at the top of the door ring, causing you to jolt up. You only catch a glimpse of the guy walking towards you before he drops his head, his cap completely blocking his face, and a loose black hoodie covering his frame.

For a second, you get worried that the store was about to get robbed but the man finally stops in front of you and speaks, in a thick Mancunian accent. "Do you have any suggestions for board games? Like for family and stuff,"

You swear you've heard his voice before. Maybe from school? Or a former customer? You decide to shake it off before replying. "Well, this is a board game store, so there's quite a lot to pick from. Do you have any specific theme in mind? How many players?"

"There'll be 3 of us, but I'm not really picky with the game. Not any of those monopoly type shit though, cause I'm sick of never winning."

You chuckle at the revelation and that's what gets the man to look up at you. It definitely wasn't his appearance he was worried about. His chiseled jaw and striking blue eyes almost draw you in, not to mention his hairstyle looks eerily like the one David Beckham had in the 90s, who you had to admit was a crush of yours as a kid. He could even pass as a contestant on one of those dating reality shows.

And then it hits you where you've heard his voice before. This guy was on Lust Conquers All and was immediately voted off. You remember it well because your sister was so pissed at him for joining the show since the football season had just started. Jamie something, but the show never mentioned his last name. You try to hide your realization by turning to the shelf behind you.

"Alright uh, I’d recommend this one." You turn back around and slide it across the counter as Jamie (?) starts looking at the box from all angles.

"Looks cool," is all he says in reply and he looks back at you, presumably for you to explain the game. You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before going on your usual introduction to the game.

"Basically in the game, there are 4 characters you can choose to be your 'heroes.' Your main objective is to get your opponent's health to 0 using the different cards in your set. All the characters have different decks and skills you can use throughout the game, and some of them even have side kicks." You look back up for a second to see his expression and you can tell that you're still holding his interest.

"So for example in the one I gave you, you can battle Sinbad, Medusa, King Arthur, and Alice, who's fucking amazing, by the way."

"Alice? From fucking Wonderland?" You laugh at his surprise before nodding to affirm it. "She's your favorite then?"

"How'd you know?" You ask sarcastically. "But yeah, she's just really versatile and it's just really fun to shrink and grow every turn just to piss off the other players. I'm practically unbeatable using her." You admit though you're not really sure why.

Most of the time when customers come in here for a game, they don't ask questions and just buy the first one you suggest. That’s probably why you answered Jamie's question so earnestly. Cause he's the first one to ever ask you what you liked about the game.

You quickly run through the rest of the rules and mechanics of the game with Jamie chiming in occasionally. You describe the other editions as well and Jamie is tempted to buy the other one — "How is anyone supposed to beat fucking Dracula?" — before he ultimately decides to take home the one you offered.

"If I end up losing using Alice, you owe me a refund." He states as you ring up the game. You playfully roll your eyes as you scan the barcode on the box.

"Oh yeah, since you're the first customer of the day, you get a 7% discount on your purchase," you quickly inform him when you glance at the post-it note on the register screen reminding you about it in bold letters.

Instead of the usual gratefulness or blip of happiness from hearing that news, Jamie instead asks, "Is that really a thing or are you doing it because you know who I am?"

You look at him to check if he's serious and given his blank look, you assume he is. You don't know how to respond to that, so instead you just slowly shake your head.

"Wait, do you not know who I am?" His question itself comes off as arrogant, but given the genuine surprise in your voice, you're not sure how to feel about the guy after he says it.

You decide to answer him honestly. "I do, but given that you walked in here in clothes that make you look like a stalker who's about to rob the place, I didn't think you'd want me to make a big fuss about it, Jamie."

His shoulders seem to relax at your statement and once he goes quiet, he finally pulls out his wallet. You quickly place the game in a paper bag and hand it over to him.

He whispers a quick thanks and turns to leave, before pausing. He turns back to you, "Look, it's not like I'm dressed this way because I'm embarrassed to be in a store like this—"

"I didn't think you were," you answer blankly with a hint of sarcasm. You decide to mess with the guy a little bit because hey, when's the next time a famous footballer comes into your store again? "Why, is there something I should be embarrassed about?"

Jamie quickly shakes his head. "No, fuck no! I think it's cool, really. You know, being surrounded by all these games and cards and knowing so much about them. Especially someone like you,"

You tilt your head in amusement. "What do you mean someone like me?" Jamie's embarrassment only seems to deepen at that.

"Fuck I didn't mean it like that. Honestly, when I came in here, I was expecting some teenage boy to be at the counter. Wait no— I mean, girls can like all this stuff too! I just didn't expect someone attr—," he stops himself and shakes his head. "Shit, wait,"

You watch Jamie scramble for words and you decide to just put an end to his misery. "Look, look, I was just joking around. I don't give that much of a shit about what you said." The football player visibly relaxes and you hold in a laugh at that reaction. "And you're basically right about the kind of people who work here. Most of my co-workers can't work these hours right now 'cause they're off studying for their A-Levels."

"Yeah, well thank you for this," Jamie lifts the bag slightly and you give him a genuine smile.

"No problem. Hope you enjoy the game! And if you ever feel compelled to dress like a shitty robber again, you can come back and tell me what you think." Your sarcasm no longer throws Jamie off who instead, just playfully rolls his eyes and leaves the store.

You go back to your reading for your behavioral science class, putting your interaction with the football player in the back of your mind.

—

The next time you see Jamie is two weeks later, although this time, he comes in right before closing. Technically, you weren't the only one assigned for this shift, but you decided to let your co-worker go home early since he said he had an English exam the next day and still hadn't studied.

So, you were counting down the minutes to 8 pm when you hear someone come inside. Fucking hell. You force a smile, "Hi, welcome! We'll be closing in a few minutes, but please approach me if you need anything so you can have a speedier process."

"Are you really that desperate to get rid of me?" The person moves away from the shelves and turns out to be Jamie Tartt, you learn his last name is. He's wearing another grey hoodie but seems to have decided to ditch his hat. Good, because you weren't sure how much longer you could stare at the ICON written on it and not judge him. "I wanna know, did you think offering to help the customer would get them out of here quicker?"

"I had to try something," you defend yourself, shrugging. You notice Jamie carrying the bag you used to wrap the board game and slightly frown. "Didn't like the game?"

He follows your eyes and is quick to correct you. "I loved it, actually. First time playing a board game that Simon didn't win during the first round." You aren't sure who Simon is, but you laugh nonetheless. "And you're right, Alice is fucking unbeatable."

"I'm glad you liked it, and Alice," you start, but then glance at the time on your phone. "But, is that the only reason you came here?"

"Well no, I was wondering if you wanted to play. That's why I came so late, in case there would be too many people if I came at the usual time."

"Yeah, there was a fuck ton, actually, as you can tell from the fully stocked store." You say, pretending to look around the room. "But sure, if you want. I don't have anything going on tomorrow anyway," Now you're really glad that you didn't procrastinate that paper due tonight.

Jamie smiles as he starts to unbox the set and you grab one of the chairs behind the counter and push it to the other side for the footballer.

Never did you imagine you would spend a Saturday night with a hot football player playing one of your favorite board games, but here you were. In between one of the rounds, the topic of football is brought up and you admit that you don't know all that much about it despite your family being made up of fanatics.

"Everyone has their team they support. My dad loves Arsenal, my mum loves Chelsea, and my sister bounces between West Ham and Crystal Palace. Though, she fucking hates Rupert Mannion, so maybe this is the end of her West Ham support." You answer as you shuffle Jamie's deck.

"Shit, the season must be fun for you guys," Jamie remarks and you snort, though instantly regretting letting that sound out. The football player looks unfazed, so you decide not to apologize for it and answer his question instead.

"Yeah, I basically end up being their messenger till the finals, which ends up becoming World War 3 if their teams are competing," you hand him his deck back and start the round, but your conversation doesn't end there.

"What team would you support then, if you got into football?" He looks hopefully at you.

"Yours, probably." You confirm as you look through your first hand of cards. "I mean, I'm about to destroy one of their players at this game. It's the least I can do."

"We'll see about that," Jamie replies and you roll your eyes playfully, but you smile.

Working at the store meant you were surrounded by board game fans every day, but not even your regulars would come in here after your shift to play. You couldn't help but feel warm at how Jamie matched your enthusiasm about the game, something, you admit, you didn't expect from the player. You knew nothing would probably come from this harmless happy crush of yours, but if he decided to start coming in often to play, you wouldn't be opposed to it.

Your attention turns back to the game once Jamie picks his next move. He smirks at his decision until his expression suddenly shifts. "Wait, if you're not into football, how'd you know who I was the other day?"

You move your piece before looking directly into Jamie's eyes and respond, "I just really love trashy reality shows." Jamie playfully groans at the reminder and you burst into laughter before you continue the game.

True to form, whichever of the two of you uses Alice is the one to win that round. You finally decide on a tie-breaker with your favorite being banned from usage.

"Christ, if this is how you maneuver in a board game, I wonder how good you are at football." You tease, as you glance at his character being at only 4HP.

"I'm fucking amazing, actually. Ask your family, they'll tell you." Jamie moves a few spaces on the board, hoping to escape your Medusa, but instead, he falls into one of your traps.

You corner him and finally reduce his King Arthur's health. "And there you go, 3-2."

It takes Jamie a second to absorb everything before he slouches. "Fucking hell." You laugh before getting up from your chair and helping him keep all the pieces and cards.

"Better luck next time, Tartt."

Jamie, whose competitive side seems to be shining in this game, doesn't let it end there.

Almost every week, he would come into the store at night asking to play. He was definitely getting better, but after making a deal where the loser has to tell an embarrassing story after the round, you realize you know more about him than he probably does about you.

"God Jamie, how are you alive?" You ask as he shares a story from when he first started the league.

"How was I supposed to know doing multiple headers in one match could lead to a bloody concussion?" He retorts, only making your eyes widen even more.

"I'm pretty sure that's common knowledge to about 80% of the population," you say through your laughter.

It's almost 10 when you finish playing, so you grab your jacket and start heading to the door with Jamie. You lock the store up and notice that Jamie's still hanging around you.

It's dark outside, but it seems like his features were even more enhanced by the moonlight. The light hit his eyes just the right way that it made the blue more evident. You notice just then how his hair is neater today, mainly because of his sports headband. The front strands of his hair had fallen out it though, falling on his face in just the right way that it gave you butterflies. Did all footballers look this attractive?

You realize that you may have been starting a bit too long and as you tuck the keys in your jacket pocket, you decide to ask, "Need anything else?"

Jamie opens his mouth to say something, but instead, he just shakes his head. "Nothing actually, just good night," he waves and starts walking in the opposite direction, but you swear you hear him muttering something under his breath.

—

It had been a week since then and you had to start telling yourself to not be so excited when you hear the bell ring. Every time it did, you'd look expectantly at the door expecting to see Jamie again, asking for another or a new volume or even just game tips. Each time, you'd end up disappointed and would have to fake a smile to the customer approaching you.

This time you hear it ring, and you do your best to not look up. If it was Jamie, you knew that your boss George probably would be sounding an alarm. You only learned the Monday after that he was a major AFC Richmond fan when you mentioned that a football player had visited the store multiple times to play board games.

"Do you think we can get him to sign a picture and put it on the wall? Can you ask?" You quickly have to explain how those interactions were the only times you ever spoke to Jamie and had no actual way of contacting him.

As you close your laptop, — one more paragraph and that essay is done! — you look up to find two guys standing in front of you.

"Hi, do you have any board game recommendations?" the one on the right greeted, his accent quickly revealing him to be Welsh.

You don't have a chance to answer because the left one lightly elbows his friend before whispering (though loud enough for you to hear), "He already told us what to get, bruv."

You may not know who this 'he' is, but the guy pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of a board game, the same one you recommended to Jamie. Wishful thinking gets you to believe that they were friends of his and he liked it so much that he told them about it. And maybe about you, too.

You've never been so happy to be right.

You nod your head and as he kept his phone, you started pulling the same edition from the shelf behind you when you hear a screeching sound that almost made you drop the box.

"Oh my God, Colin Hughes, and Isaac McAdoo!" George exclaims and you wonder where you've heard those names before.

The owner joins you at the counter as you place the board game in front of you. Maybe you weren't pretending to be as peppy as you usually do, because George decides to ask, "How are you so calm? Do you know who these guys are? They're Colin Hughes and Isaac McAdoo!"

"I heard you the first time," you turn to the two guys once again, embarrassed on behalf of your boss.

"They're part of the starting team of AFC Richmond!" And that's when it clicks. On one of your all-nighters, you decided to take a break and search up Jamie Tartt just to see what you could find. You ended up at his club's website and saw the rest of the players as well. You didn't pay them much attention given that you were so focused on player number 9, but you saw enough pictures to recognize them, at least.

"So you guys do know Jamie," you think out loud and the two players turn to each other, before sharing looks of realization.

"Oh, you're the girl!" Colin exclaims and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Yeah, I guess so," you try and act as nonchalantly as possible, so neither of them picks up on anything. You turn back to the game and ask, "Is this the one you wanted?"

"Jamie said there were other versions?" Isaac asks and you nod your head to confirm it, which he smiles at. "We want the Sherlock one."

"Okay," you reach for that one on the shelf as George starts offering them discounts on the game.

When he almost offers to give it to them for free along with another set, you stop him by slamming the box on the counter. Why were you the one trying to keep his business alive? "Here it is, hope you enjoy it!"

You ring up their purchase, still trying to hold your boss back from scaring these footballers away before they can pay. You finally bag the whole thing and hand it to them. "Thank you!" you shout as they exit the store.

"Yeah, see you soon!" George says afterward and you look at him in confusion.

"What the fuck was that, George?" He only sighs, most likely the embarrassment only hitting him at that exact moment.

Once he goes back to doing inventory, you can't help but replay what Colin said. Oh, you're the girl! Why was such a simple phrase like that affecting you so much? For all you know, he might've mentioned you being a sore winner, which wouldn't be the first time you've been called that.

But you still hope he said good things about you and maybe even kept better things he thought to himself.

—

"Okay, time's up. Please pass your papers." You write one last word as you get up to give your exam to the proctor, sighing in relief that the semester is finally over.

You had asked for leave for the past few days and didn't have a shift until tomorrow, so you decide to treat yourself to some coffee and pasta for lunch at the campus cafe.

As you settle down at one of the tables, you get a phone call from George. He was more than happy to let you take the time off, so you wonder what emergency had to happen for him to contact you.

As soon as you pick up, George screams your name into the phone. You pull it away from your ear for a second, and respond, "What? What do you need?"

"Look, I'm sorry to disturb you on your day off, but you said that your test ended at 2:30, so I decided to hold off calling you till then. Anyway, someone came in a few days ago asking if we host board game nights."

"And we do," you answer for him as you chew your sandwich.

"Right, and then he said that he was from AFC Richmond." You flinch after imagining how your boss could've reacted at that revelation. "They wanted to hold it a few days ago," George pauses.

"Why didn't you say yes? You could've been game master."

"Yeah well, I wanted to, but they specifically asked for you to go." You put down your sandwich and straighten up. George continues, "I told them you were on leave, but they said they could wait till you were back at work. I said that your test was this morning and I would ask if you'd be willing to end your leave early."

"Okay, sure." You answer, a little faster than you intended. You couldn't believe that the team — and maybe even Jamie personally, — was willing to postpone their game night just so you would be the one to facilitate it.

The surprise was evident in George's voice. Normally, you would reject his idea the moment he mentioned board game nights, but something about this was different for you. "Oh okay, well, I'll send you the address. I'll be bringing the boards there since you don't have a car and I'll meet you there at 4 pm. It's a restaurant, so maybe you can get something to eat before 'cause shit can get crazy at those things and it's best to load up."

You don't know how a board game night could get crazy, but you decide not to comment on it. He sends you the details through text before you end the call and continues eating your sandwich. The place wasn't too far from campus, so you didn't have to rush to get there. But after 10 minutes, you consumed your sandwich and were out the door with your coffee in hand.

While walking, you decided to familiarize yourself more with the players trying to put names to face before you had to interact with all of them at once. You started to get the hang of it, — even looking at team photos and naming them one by one as a test — as you get to the venue at around half past 3.

You arrive at a restaurant called Ola's, and you remember seeing one of the Richmond players post about it. Your dad wanted to have dinner here once, but they were always fully booked so the four of you gave up trying to get a table there.

Because of that, you expected the place to be swamped with customers, but instead find an almost empty restaurant. You notice one guy standing in the middle of it and approach him.

"Hi," He turns around and you recognize him as Sam Obisanya, meaning he must be the owner. You introduce yourself quickly before asking, "Am I at the right place? I'm here to help host a board game tournament."

Sam's eyes widen as he seems to recognize you. "Oh yes, this is the place. Sorry, I didn't expect you to be so early. We already fixed up the tables, but I can also help in setting up the boards if you like."

"Ah no, it's alright. My boss is the one who’s bringing them. I came from my university, so I don't have any of them on me right now." You quickly explain and Sam nods as he leads you to one of the tables to relax, while he grabs some appetizers from the kitchen.

He makes his way back to the table, though he can't seem to stop looking at you. You subconsciously start fixing your hair, wondering if you should've gone to the bathroom before going in here.

He seems to pick up on this and is quick to reassure you, "Oh, I'm sorry for staring. It's just Jamie has mentioned you so many times, so it's nice to finally put a face to the name."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of the football player. You grab some of the food he offered as you reply as calmly as you can, "Oh yeah, did he tell you how he is nowhere close to beating my number of wins?"

Sam lets out a short chuckle. "No, but I'm not surprised. He did say you're very good at it." You smile and decide to ask why they decided to do a board game night.

It takes a second before Sam replies, "Oh well, Coach always says to do team-building activities every once in a while, and seeing as Jamie has asked almost everyone on the team to play the game at least once, we thought it would be a good idea. I think Isaac and Colin got their own board too and they started bringing it to the clubhouse."

"Shit, I didn't realize that football players loved board games so much," you remarked as you hear the door to the restaurant open.

Both of you look up to see George, who is trying to carry 12 boxes of board game sets. You rush out of your seat to help him out and so does Sam. The sight of the player almost makes your boss drop all of them from his arms, but you quickly scoop four of them and Same takes another four.

"Sam Obisanya," George exhales, once some of the weight is literally lifted off him.

The player simply says, "Hello," and states that he'll start setting up the four boards on the tables near the back.

You snap your fingers to get George out of the trance and the two of your start setting up on the rest of your tables, dropping the character figurines at the bar table and putting the sign-up sheet next to it. Slowly, the restaurant starts filling up with players with George gradually losing his mind at the number of footballers from his favorite team.

You finally get him to leave, but only by promising to convince the team to take a picture with him when he came back to pick up the boards. You're pretty sure he's already making plans to put it on a canvas and hang it on his bed.

You settle yourself behind the bar table to be in charge of the players setting up, each time expecting it to be Jamie standing in front of you. You try and keep your focus on the task at hand every time you hear the boys greet someone new.

Isaac and Colin are the next to write their names and they give you a look that you can't quite decipher. Soon enough, Jamie finally gets here and you straighten up in your seat. He greets some of the players till his eyes land on you.

He approached the bench and once he looked up, he observed out loud. "You're here,”

"Aw, did you want to get rid of me that badly?" You mimic him before explaining that you finished your leave earlier, "just to see you, of course." — with some truth behind that statement. Jamie laughs — albeit, a little awkwardly, — and takes the clipboard. As he signs up, you decide to take the chance to tease him. "Heard you were talking about me to your teammates."

Jamie's eyes widen and he stops writing to shoot glares at the rest of AFC Richmond, not sure who told you. Jamie turns back to you and you laugh. "Don't worry, Tartt. I'm sure you just told them how I'm an absolute god at the game and you're glad I'm not playing tonight." The football player simply rolls his eyes as he joins his teammates.

Once the whole team is complete along with their kit-man Will, you decide to start the tournament. "Okay, hi everyone! Welcome to your board game night." The crowd cheers and you're startled by their enthusiasm. You quickly explain the rules of the night, — though they seem to already know most of it, — and the order of players. It's a draw lots method, so the players will be randomly given a character and an opponent.

Once everyone gets their characters and settles in, you start making rounds in case anyone had any questions. After a while, you start heading back to the bar when someone taps you on the shoulder. You find Jamie already done with his round.

"How'd you win that quickly?" You don't try to hide the surprise in your voice. "Even I take like 20 minutes minimum to win."

"Oh I didn't," Jamie clarifies, and you widen your eyes. "I just couldn't attack Dani. I mean, look at that face." You turn to their table and find Dani smiling at you — "This is fun!" — and waving using his Dracula figurine.

You laugh at his reasoning. "Alright then, guess you're done for the night." You walk back to the bar and Jamie stops on the opposite side of it.

"You hungry? Sam said there's prepped meals in the back and since none of the games are ending soon…" Jamie offers and you obliged, seeing as this might be the only time you might ever get to eat in this restaurant. He grabs two plates from there and settles down next to you. Surprisingly, he managed to grab one of your favorite dishes. You remember mentioning to him that you had tried it at another restaurant in the past and loved it, but you doubt he even remembers it and dubbed it a coincidence.

You decide to keep the topic off board games and instead let him talk about what he's doing since he last saw you. Turns out they had multiple back-to-back matches, so practice was tight and he didn't have time to visit you. He also said the next time he did, it was one of your teenage co-workers manning the counter.

"Oh, Chuck! Yeah, he's pretty shit at board games." You say blankly while you shove another spoonful of food into your mouth.

"I ended up just buying a card game and leaving." Jamie continues and you laugh.

"Sorry, you went all the way there for just that. I go to class on Wednesdays, so I don't have a shift then." The conversation then shifts to your degree and you explain that you plan on becoming a psychologist.

"There is another upside to getting that degree too," Jamie chimes in, and you tilt your head. "You can fuck with someone's head while playing."

"Okay, psychology isn't mind control." Though, you think about it for a second. "But it is pretty close. You’ll be my first victim.” You make your sound more ghostly in that last sentence and Jamie pretends to act terrified and faint.

There is a short silence between the two of you when you realize that most of the rounds are done. You start organizing the next round and once the games start, the other players start going around and rooting for their teammates.

It leaves the area near the bar much more isolated and Jamie lowers his voice. "About that card game I got, it's pretty fun, too."

"Yeah?" You ask as you bring your plate back to the kitchen.

"Yeah. I'd love to take you out and talk about it," you stop in your tracks before turning back to the footballer who adds, “If you want."

You turn around to see Jamie is much closer to you now. It's only then you realize how much taller he was than you, but despite that, you’re not intimidated, especially with him looking so expectantly at you.

It takes a second before your mouth turns into a smile. "I think I'd like that."

Jamie does this small bounce thing on his heels, before trying to tone it down. You only laugh and kiss him on the cheek before heading to the crowd of players. He follows suit and rests his arm on your shoulders.

Some of his teammates notice and start cheering. You look at them confused before deciding to ask Jamie, "Was this all an elaborate scheme to ask me out?"

He shakes his head, "No, 'course not. Was there a deal made after I lost a game to Jan? Possibly," The both of you laugh as you playfully push his head away. You start to accept that this unfairly attractive football player — whom you'll be going on a date soon — can be as much of a nerd as you.

If this is what George meant when he said game nights could get crazy, well, maybe you should’ve given them a chance earlier.

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sllowshow · 5 months

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🧑‍🤝‍🧑 my main lady Annie keane

for better or worse, the keanes are hot in oklahoma baby. their family was old stock in their hometown, and they live somewhere where that means something --- or at least, it certainly did to their dad. i just simply think he conducted himself like he was a low level kennedy or something. but in reality, ed keane (thomas haden church) was just a really friendly guy. i think he's where annie got her sense of humor and he's literally just one of those people that made friends anywhere he went. after he graduated (just barely, he only got through most of his classes because he was a football player that could charm the teachers), he went straight to work with his dad at their family's hardware store.

which is where he met their mom, donna (demi moore), years later when he'd taken over as manager of the store. she was buying supplies for her sorority's homecoming float and they had a movie moment conversation. she wasn't the same natural conversationalist as him, but she was confident. she knew she was smart, the first in her family to go to college and she knew she was pretty, a prom queen and famed girl next door. which is part of why it hurt when he didn't ask her for her number. so, she made excuses to go back: a little wood glue here, a box of nails there. every time they talked, and every time she left proverbially empty handed. when she saw him in the crowd at the homecoming parade, she had half a mind to get off the float and tell him off then and there. but thankfully, when he tracked her down afterward, he beat her to speak first and asked her to dinner. the rest history etc etc.

they made sense as a couple. they could talk for hours. also important was they were heading the same direction: they both wanted to stay local, have kids, and work on the town they loved. ed would go on to inherit the hardware store, dedicated himself to preserving the business, and when donna graduated with her degree in design, she started renovating and updating houses in their town, helping to bring some new life.

which, ultimately, that's always been the source of the rub. it doesn't surprise them, to see annie and benjamin to grow up into strong personalities with big dreams. quite frankly their birthright. and they love that about them too! their dad calls annie his little fire cracker. their mom will break out benjamin's prom photos and talk about him like he's david beckham. they just don't understand why being those things in their town with their family wasn't enough. keanes have time and time again proved that you can find your piece of heaven out here in the plains.

they did eventually start coming to visit them on their turf more after they had kids though. anything to get to be overbearing grandparents.

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saintmeghanmarkle · 1 year

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Markle versus the Beckhams by u/ElectricalAd9212

Markle versus the Beckhams So the latest story is that Markle and Harry are spitting because the Beckhams upset them by not behaving in a way that Her Divine Majesty Meghan deemed appropriate towards her.Lets compare and contrast these couples.David and Victoria are both from working class / lower middle class London backgrounds.Both worked hard for decades to achieve what they have achieved.David became a Champions League winning footballer and England captain, as well as a male style icon.Victoria became part of one of the most successful womens pop groups in history, and then became a successful fashion designer.They have a close relationship with their children and families.When the Queen died, Markle and Harry defiled her funeral with their vicious and hateful egotistical games, whilst David Beckham stood in the queue to pay his respects to Her Majesty as she lay in state, and said he did so to bow his head to our Queen, but also to represent his family and especially his late grandparents.Recently, the Beckhams have cemented their status as A list celebrities with longevity. They are middle aged but more relevant than ever, widely respected and liked. David has brought Lionel Messi to Miami, and they are living their best lives. The world's attention is on the Beckhams.They are rich, respected, influential, connected, trans-Atlantic, charitable, and loved. They are successful businesspeople. They have A list friends. They are down to earth, they are role models.Markle must be spitting watching them flourish and she must be in fury and rage. They are everything she thinks she should be but isn't. She can't be like them, because her personality is so warped and twisted, and the Beckhams are good people with good hearts. She is furious they didn't bow down to her, furious that they distanced themselves from them.From the couple who thought they could wage a war against the British monarchy and Queen and future King because of their petulant narcissism, it seems that Markle wants to wage war on the Beckhams. What a spectacle. What a pair of clowns. What a loathsome pair, thrown into deeper ugliness by the wonderful lives and hearts of those self made icons, the Beckhams. post link: https://ift.tt/pu2CS7T author: ElectricalAd9212 submitted: August 01, 2023 at 12:31PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

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stanweirdosalliance · 1 year

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Get to know me

Sorry if this is too long I really want some to understand me. Most people have hard time knowing real me not just online me.

If you see a lot of football aka soccer for you American I grew up watching it I am from Belarus but live in America. Growing up I was huge fan of David Beckham had him as my wallpaper on computer and my bro was okay with it. I am huge into entertainment, movies and music. My fav director is Edgar Wright I am taking Edgar Wright filmmaking course online it's not cheap but my mom bought me that as my early 28th bday last year. I really love him as film director even when Last Night in Soho came out and I saw it. I came home and watched his every interview on that movie. I love how his movie usually come out like 3 to 4yrs. He takes time on his movies and I see how a movie fan he is. Last year I went from just listening to pop music and soundtracks to Indie music. I cant do anywhere without my headphones I listen to so much music in public to get away from people it's part of my disability. I listen to music too much does not matter time of day cause it calms me down. All of my rock music love comes from my amazing mom. I am future Filmmaker 4yrs ago I think I wrote like 54 pages script. Truth is we need to write 100 pages but teacher had so many problems about my British character who is cop but my bro was helping. Also I am ON THE SPECTRUM that's why my teacher let me make shorter then 100 pages script. Their is a reason why I chosen filmmaking well because my whole family is medical even my aunt and for me learning it would be hard cause I wanted to be vet. Someone in new high school when we moved to new state like a decade ago told my mom I would never graduate high school and I did close to graduating community college. When I came to community college and took classes I really wanted like filmmaking ones I finally became so happy cause school was never happy for me with my disability school was hell if no one would of helped me I would of failed it on my own. If you talking to me and its not movies, music or entertainment, or football sorry I start to either freak out or I just need to leave I can't be in that room. I wish someday to see my fav band live French band Phoenix but I seen one of my fav bands last year in music festival thanks to my bro its The National. I love anything British my fav actors Dan Stevens, Gwilym Lee, Martin Freeman and Simon Pegg. My favorite tv shows are Legion yes it ended but still it was the best one, Fargo, The Bear, What we do in the Shadows, Welcome to Wrexham, loved Pose and Righteous Gemstones

Just 3yrs ago during the middle of season 4 of Fargo I started to like actor Jason Schwartzman and now I know so much about him. I own almost everything with his band he made Coconut Records only need Nighttiming Vinyl. I won Davy on Ebay for 300 dollars and in 2021 in one auction I won his red jacket from Fargo season 4. If you need to know anything about Jason just don't afraid to ask me. People make fun of me being fan of him cause i know too much but that's not my fault being On The Spectrum he is my hyper fixation. Growing up I been bullied so much even for liking some actors. People tell me on on TWITCH channel how bad of an actor he is or terrible actor. My mom recently came to terms to liking him after I showed so much videos and made her listen him talking about his kids. She says he is a great person and dad. If ever asking one of my fav Jason videos it has to be Sesame Street Memory: Jason Schwartzman | #ThisIsMyStreet cause part of it I relate knowing his one daughter is autistic and special needs. Talking about Jason sometimes annoys my mom.

#jason schwartzman #get to know me #dan stevens #indie music #movies #edgar wright #fargo #what we do in the shadows

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hividsmarttv · 1 year

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BRITISH CINEMA

The British film industry has a rich history that dates back over a century, with a diverse range of films being produced from big-budget blockbusters to independent art house films. With iconic directors such as Alfred Hitchcock and Ken Loach, and actors such as Judi Dench and Daniel Day-Lewis, the British film industry has produced many acclaimed films that have gained international recognition.

The British film industry is one of the oldest and most respected in the world and has a long tradition of producing high-quality films. The industry has produced many classic films that are still loved and watched today, such as David Lean's "Lawrence of Arabia", which won seven Academy Awards in 1963, and the iconic horror film "The Wicker Man" from 1973.

In recent years, the British film industry has continued to thrive, with many critically acclaimed films being produced. Some recent examples include "1917" directed by Sam Mendes, which won three Academy Awards, and "The Favourite" directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, which won one Academy Award and was nominated for nine.

One of the most significant contributions of the British film industry is the James Bond franchise, which has been running for over fifty years and has become a cultural icon. The Bond films have been instrumental in showcasing the British film industry on a global stage and have helped to cement the UK's reputation as a leader in the film industry.

Other notable films available instore include:

"Trainspotting" (1996) directed by Danny Boyle - This cult classic explores the lives of a group of heroin addicts in Edinburgh, Scotland. It launched the careers of Ewan McGregor and Kelly Macdonald and has a highly acclaimed soundtrack.

"Bend it like Beckham" (2002) directed by Gurinder Chadha - This feel-good comedy follows the journey of a British-Indian girl who dreams of playing football professionally despite her conservative family's disapproval. The film tackles themes of cultural identity, family values, and gender norms.

"The Full Monty" (1997) directed by Peter Cattaneo - This comedy-drama follows a group of unemployed steelworkers who decide to form a male striptease act to make ends meet. The film tackles themes of unemployment, masculinity, and self-esteem.

"Billy Elliot" (2000) directed by Stephen Daldry - Set in a mining town in the northeast of England during the 1984-85 miners' strike, this drama follows a young boy who discovers a passion for ballet. The film explores themes of gender stereotypes, social class, and family dynamics.

"Shaun of the Dead" (2004) directed by Edgar Wright - This horror-comedy is a parody of zombie movies and follows a group of friends who must fight their way through a zombie apocalypse in London. The film blends humour, horror, and satire in a unique way.

The British film industry has a rich and diverse history and continues to produce some of the most compelling and innovative films in the world. From classic dramas and comedies to modern-day thrillers and horror movies, British cinema offers something for everyone. With a wealth of talented filmmakers, actors, and crew members, and a commitment to artistic excellence and inclusivity, the future of British cinema looks bright. So, whether you're a fan of historical epics, contemporary social dramas, or quirky indie films, be sure to explore the many gems that the British film industry has to offer.

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harzingfx · 8 years

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David Beckham | Wallpaper | Lockscreen

#david beckham #david #beckham #beckhs #david beckham family class football #class #men dressing #football #footballer #manchester united #real madrid #england #hairtsyle #2016

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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!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

(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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howrry · 5 years

Text

when you need me

a/n: here’s that slowburn i mentioned. there WILL be a part 2 so don’t hound me on it!!!! i promise she’s coming!! enjoy :~)

w/c: 5.1k

warnings: sfw! brief mentions of violence

***

Harry and Y/N were friends for exactly one summer.

Y/N and her family moved in next door to Harry when she was seven, and her parents were delighted to find out that the boy was the same age as their daughter. Sure, at the time of the move, Y/N wasn’t intensely attached to any of her old friends or her old home or her old school, but it was good to have someone to ease her into the new life.

The two clicked immediately. They played every day that summer, either swimming or playing cops and robbers or drawing on sidewalks with chalk. They rode bikes around the neighborhood, and shot basketballs in the hoop that belonged to the teenager down the street, and explored the small forest behind their home for squirrels. He taught her cool card tricks and she taught him how to make perfect chocolate milk without using an overwhelming amount of chocolate sauce.

It was a match made in heaven—up until a few days before the beginning of classes, the last time they would've openly called the other a "friend". It wasn't that when the summer ended, they'd had some big fight or randomly stopped talking to each other; it just... wouldn't have been logical to remain associated once the school year picked up.

They’d been playing in a sandbox at the local park that day. Sure, they were a little old to be playing in a sandbox, but the only people there were a family occupying their usual spots on the swing set. Harry dug around in the sand forming both holes and piles around him while Y/N drew pictures with a stick.

“Look what I found!” he yelled, holding up a little earwig he’d dug out from the sand. He waved it in her face, to her disgust.

“Gross, Haz.” She backed up and almost stumbled back out of the sandbox.

Harry laughed and tossed it back into the sand, where it burrowed itself. “You’re such a girl sometimes.”

“Because I don’t want you shoving bugs in my face?”

“Tommy and James like bugs. They think they’re cool.” His gaze dropped down to the sand where he began to mimic her drawing.

Y/N paused for a second. “Well I’m not Tommy and James, am I?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “So… you don’t want to be friends with them when we go back to school?”

“Not really. I don’t like bugs. I like…” She scanned around the park. “Flowers. And art!”

He laughed. “I guess we’re just different people at school. What are we gonna do?”

She thought it over but didn’t answer. “It’s getting late. Let’s start walking home.”

The two strolled back to their homes, kicking rocks and not saying much. Once they’d reached their front lawns and the street lights flicked on, she broke the silence.

“Just because we can’t be friends doesn’t mean we can’t say hi.” Such a simple conclusion. “And we’re pretty helpful to each other.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I taught you how to shuffle cards.”

“Exactly. Let’s make an agreement.” Y/N had been watching some Law and Order episodes when her parents weren’t around. They mostly bored her (since she was far too young to understand what was going on) but the legal parts of the show enticed her. “Let’s just be there for each other when we need it.”

“Like when we’re in trouble?” he asked, brows furrowing.

She giggled. “Yeah. But just in general too. If one of us needs help, the other will do what they can.”

Harry nodded, staring past her. “Sounds fair. Shake on it?”

The two shook hands and went inside their homes, with no idea what can of worms they’d just opened. ***

The first time the pact is utilized, it's for a jar of dewberry jelly.

The school year had arrived, and Harry and Y/N had almost no contact other than a brief ‘hello’ whenever the two ran into each other during the day. He hung out with Tommy and James who laughed too loud in class and threw dodgeballs really hard in Phys Ed. She made new friends with girls in art class who put stickers on their binders and gushed about fashion. Their agreement went unused for a very long time—two years to be exact, but it’s not like a child is gonna find themselves in deep trouble at every turn.

Y/N's parents were still in bed asleep one Saturday morning and she really wanted some toast. It was quite an easy breakfast to make for a 9-year-old by herself, up until she went to open the jar. Nothing. Not even a budge. It was almost ridiculous how much she was struggling to open the stupid lid. She even tried going on Google for tricks on how to open a jar: tapping the lid with a knife, running it under hot water, using duct tape, etc. No dice.

The idea of waking up one of her parents for help flashed over her mind, but stirring them before noon after a whole week of hard work just seemed evil. She had no other option but to ask Harry for help.

She grabbed the jar and ran next door, using the knocker to alert them of her presence. Gemma opened the door, one headphone in her ear and the other dangling. She scanned Y/N, and before the younger girl could even open her mouth, Gemma turned around.

"Harry, your friend is here!" she called and drifted back in without inviting her in. Fortunately, he appeared in the doorway before Y/N could realize how awkward the situation felt.

"Oh, hey, what's up?" he asked. Instead of answering his question, Y/N just shoved the jar into his hands.

"Please help me! I just wanted some toast but the jelly doesn't want to get eaten!" she whined, crossing her arms in a huff.

He inspected the jar a bit before laughing and popping open the lid with ease. When he handed back the jelly, their fingertips brushed together but he pretended not to notice. "Enjoy your toast."

"Thank you!" And she went off with her opened jar, skipping back to her house.

***

The second time, he needs her.

It's been two or three years since the jar fiasco, and Y/N had started to get an inkling that she wouldn't be seeing much of Harry anymore. If he could go so long without needing her or even acknowledging her in the hall, maybe that was the end of the two of them. The long amount of time without H had somewhat given her closure anyways.

Her mother had already gone to bed and she should have as well, but late-night reruns of Full House were so much more appealing than sleep. Y/N could feel her eyelids get heavier and heavier and she almost drifted off right there on the couch before there was a tap on the living room window looking out into her backyard.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, but when her eyes adjusted and she realized it was just Harry, her shoulders relaxed. As quietly as she could, she opened the back door and guided him inside, holding a finger to her lips so that he’d remain silent. Y/N took him to the dining room, an area far from her parents’ room so that they could talk freely.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asked, eyeing the backpack draped over his shoulder.

“Mrs. Williams is gonna fail me if I don’t get this project done,” he breathed, setting the bag on the table. “It’s a collage piece, and I’ve tried to do it m’self three times now and I ruin it every time. You’re an art genius, can y’help me?”

She smiled at being called an art genius. Sure, Mrs. Williams gave her an A on every piece and she even won an award at the local art competition for her stop-motion movie on a butterfly hatching, but she wasn’t Van Gogh. Still the compliment rang in her ears and the pact itched at the back of her mind. “Of course.”

It was a simple assignment, using magazine clippings to make a collage about anything they wanted, and Harry picked football. He pulled out several magazines, most of which had been cut out of already (presumably for his first three attempts) but there was still enough left to make a coherent project.

As Y/N got to work, he stared at her. “You’re not using enough glue,” he noted as she arranged David Beckham in the center of the cardstock.

“Who’s the art expert, again?” she snapped. The cutout stuck perfectly and he hummed in deflation. “I see why your first three projects didn’t work,” she joked, making a little smile appear on his lips.

As Y/N finished up the cutting, the two of them could no longer contain their yawns and Harry began rubbing at his eyes with his fists. "Do you ever think that we shouldn't be this tired, at this age?" she asked, breaking the heavy silence lingering over the dining room.

Harry unceremoniously dropped his chin into his palms, watching her work. "I think we'll be thinking that for the rest of our lives."

***

Y/N hated being late.

First there was the issue of wasting other people’s time, then there was the whole show about feeling awkward when you did arrive. This was all her history teacher’s fault—he was so freakin’ deaf he didn’t hear the warning bell and griped at the students who tried to pack their bags or leave. Once he’d realized what time it was he griped even more about how nobody told him it was time to go (they did; he just didn’t hear).

So, she somehow had to make a five minute journey across her campus in negative two minutes. Easy peasy. Y/N had no other option but to book it, until she unfortunately ran smack into Cara, one of the mean girls in her year.

“Watch where you’re going, spaz!” she whined, even though Y/N was the one who crashed onto the floor. Two other girls stood behind her, one of whom was named Lacey and the other was just some bitch who copied Cara to get ahead.

At the beginning of eighth grade, the secretary at the front desk of the school chose a few students each class period to help her with filing and giving notes to teachers and so on. Cara was one of the students chosen which virtually gave her the free pass to wander around whenever she wanted. Her friends, not so much, but if Cara told you to do something, you did it, even if it meant skipping class.

Y/N scrambled back up without apologizing, adjusting her bag and planning on walking away and ignoring her. Unfortunately, Cara stopped her by stiff arming her. “What’s the rush?” she hissed, a malicious smile curling up. Her eyes fell down to the ground. “Nice shoes. Do they come in women’s sizes?”

Okay, she was just trying to psych Y/N out. They were plain black Doc Martens, for crying out loud—it’s not like she was in steel toed work boots. “Are you done?” Y/N asked, unamused.

The grin on Cara’s face dropped and was replaced by a grimace fit for a cartoon villain. “Now listen—” she started, ready to chew the other girl out, but was interrupted by someone behind Y/N.

“Fuck off, Cara, or I’m telling the headmistress that your clown posse is skipping class thanks to you.” It was Harry, of all people. (Why he wasn’t in class either was a whole new can of worms, but Y/N chose to be grateful.)

She huffed out of her nose, realizing she was backed into a corner. Cara shoved past Y/N and slammed her shoulder into her, her goon squad following behind hot on her coattails.

Y/N breathed out a very appreciative thank you to Harry, and when he nodded at her, she went back on her way to her class, now with negative 4 minutes.

***

Y/N’s first mixer party was a night to remember, to say the least.

It took ages to convince her parents to let her go, but in her defense, both her mom and her dad were going to parties at 15. Plus, that was in the age of serial killers and before cell phones, so she definitely had the upper hand in that argument. Besides, it’s one party, what’s the worst that could happen?

Someone in her geometry class had invited her, and the same day she went to get a new flowy top from H&M to wear there. One of her art friends, Jenna, had already gotten her license and drove the two of them to the party where things were already in full swing once she’d entered.

It was a very mild kick back. It was a lower attendance than she’d anticipated, but the main point of reference she had were those crappy teen movies. The only thing people had to drink were those Smirnoff Ices that have almost no alcohol and a ton of sugar in them, which totally repulsed Y/N. Guess it’d be a sober evening for her.

After a few hours of chatting with people (that she would just talk to in school anyways) and listening to music, Y/N was about ready to call it a night. She excused herself from the host’s living room in search of Jenna when she felt someone tug at her arm.

It was Tyler, one of the centers on the school basketball team. “Y/N, hey! What’s up?”

She was totally caught off guard. Tyler was reallygood looking and didn’t usually spend his time around the art students. “Oh, um, hey. I was actually about to—” she started, eyes drifting to where he was holding her elbow still.

“Leave?” he finished, flashing a pearly white smile. “No way, it’s so early! Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

A pit formed in Y/N’s stomach. What could Tyler want with her? Her eyes narrowed, but she figured she’d probably regret leaving more than finding out what he wanted. “Sure, what’s up?”

“In private, I meant.” He gestured towards the back porch, which eased her mind. If he was just trying to get handsy with her, he’d take her to a bedroom—not outside by the pools where everyone could see.

“Okay,” she finally agreed, letting him guide her outside into the yard.

The backyard was large and well taken care of. The pool had lights that changed colors, and all of the furniture matched the mahogany color of the deck, fence, and pool shed. A black grill looked like it had never been touched and the grass was a beautiful shade of bottle green.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked, breaking the ice and shoving his tanned hands into his pockets.

“Kind of. Not many of my friends are big partiers so this scene is pretty new for me,” she admitted, eyes dropping down to her shoes.

“That’s why I was surprised when I heard you were coming.” His hand came out from his pocket and lifted her chin up so that they were making eye contact. “I figured it was my only chance to tell you how pretty I think you are.”

Y/N was, how you say, shook. Her eyes widened and she squeaked out a “really?” before being alerted by a noise coming from the pool shed just a few feet away. “Did someone just laugh?” she asked, head snapping over to the shed in question.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Tyler claimed, trying to get her attention away from the shed to no avail.

“No, I swear I heard a laugh,” Y/N absentmindedly insisted, leaving Tyler to go yank open the doors of the shed.

What happened next was in light speed. The doors flew open to reveal Cara and Lacey, the former holding a 5-gallon bucket and the latter a cell phone as if she was filming. Before Y/N could even get a dazed ‘what?’ out, Cara had dumped the contents of the bucket onto Y/N. Ice water.

She let out a shriek at this, frozen in every sense of the term. When she could feel her feet beneath her again, she spun around to see Tyler laughing his ass off along with the girls.

“I almost couldn’t do it!” he yelled, clutching his stomach.

“Thanks, Ty,” Cara purred, going to loop an arm through his. “You earned that $20 fair and square.”

Y/N didn’t stick around for any longer. She didn’t want to go back in the house in the state she was in, and everyone had probably seen what happened anyways. Rather than face even more humiliation, she did the only thing that came to mind: run.

Y/N could text Jenna later. She ran and ran and ran until she was home, but rather than go inside and cry her eyes out in bed, she found herself at the base of the oak tree next to Harry’s window.

She frantically shimmied up the tree, pausing only to wipe tears out of her eyes. Her knuckles collided with his window and for a moment she wonders if it was too loud. Then the thought of Harry not hearing the knock at all flashed through her mind, and she was left wishing she'd hit it even harder.

The room brightened just a little bit, as if he'd turned on a lamp. She perked up at this, leaning forward but keeping her balance in the tree. He pulled aside the dark curtains and opened the window carefully.

"Y/N?" he asked groggily. "What are y'doing? Why are you soaking wet? Y'scared me half to death." She opened her mouth to explain but her eyes just welled up and she felt her face turn pink. "Wait, are you crying? Get inside." He lifted the window even higher so that she could tumble in gracelessly. Without asking any more questions, he pulled her into a big hug, where she sobbed quietly into the crook of his neck. It took a moment to get the sad out of her, but once she was ready to let go, his hug lingered for a half-second too long.

So there she sat, on his bedroom floor, covered in cold water and trying not to shed any more tears then she already had. Harry handed her a fluffy towel and she wiped her face off before starting to babble. "I'm sorry it's late, and you were probably sleeping, but it's been a really - hic - long and rough night and I just needed someone. I know I needed you last and it's not my turn but I didn't know who else to go to—"

"Wait wait wait, what did you say? Your turn?" he asked, holding a hand up and completely halting her babbling.

She nodded, wiping at the mascara running under her eyes. "I mean... yeah. The past eight years we've switched off who gets the next favor. You helped me last time when Cara and those other girls were picking on me, and now here I am again."

His eyebrows were knitted together in sheer confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said slowly. "It's never been on a turn system. Whenever you come to me in a time of need, or vice versa, we help each other." Y/N nodded, feeling dumb. "Besides, you didn't cometo me that time. I was just in the right place at the right time. Even if we were doing turns—which we're not—it's still technically yours anyways."

He was trying to make her laugh, and it worked. Her wobbly and blotchy face broke into a cute smile without her even trying, and Harry always found an underrated beauty in a laugh after a good cry.

"Now, do yeh wanna talk about tonight?" he pressed gently, sitting on his bed and offering her a spot next to him. It was hard explaining what happened without crying again, but once his hand started rubbing up and down her back, it was easy to relax and tell her story.

He was disgusted with what he’d heard, of course. “I’m so sorry about that Y/N,” he stammered, unsure of what to say. “You don’t deserve those kinds of people in your life, not now and not ever.”

She smiled and it was totally contagious. “Thanks H.”

“Do y’want me to get you some of Gem’s clothes?” he offered. “Yeh look like a sad puppy, shiverin’ and all.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I think I’m just gonna go home. I can tell my parents I fell in the pool. Thank you for listening, and everything else. You’re a great friend.”

She returned the towel and left the same way she came in, Harry making sure she safely got to the ground before she ducked into her home. Something felt strange for a few minutes afterwards and Harry couldn’t put a finger on it until he was tucked into bed and drifting out.

That was the first time she’d called him his friend in eight years.

***

Fuck, my laundry!

Three universal words that will have anyone throwing themselves out of their bed late at night to go dig through a washing machine and pray it hasn't been so long that the clothes need to be rewashed.

Y/N was one of these people, on a night where she should probably be out with friends. It was Saturday night, but that meant tomorrow was Sunday and the day after that was Monday and that meant her stupid Calculus homework would be due. Who said that senior year would be a breeze? She wanted to kick their ass.

Fortunately, the clothes were fine, and on the way back to her room she was imagining how she was going to backflip into her bed and knock the hell out for nine hours. Just before she went upstairs, she saw a shadow in the corner of her eye fluttering outside the front door.

Her blood ran cold. Her parents were long asleep at this hour; if this was some intruder, she wouldn't be able to make it over to their room and have them awake quickly enough. Her mind scrambled over dozens of plans and ideas (all of which ended with the intruder totally catching her) before something really surprised her.

A knock at the front door.

Umm... people planning on breaking into your house don't knock. Well, they do, but only at two in the afternoon when they're checking if someone's home, not when it's well after midnight. She tiptoed to the door and peered through the glass to see none other than Harry.

She swung the door open instantly. "Harry? What are you do—?" She stopped when her eyes adjusted and finally was able to see that he was notin good shape.

Harry's hair was mussed up, lacking its usual composure. He wasn’t able to stand up straight without leaning on the column, like he was drunk as hell. One of his eyes had a purple smudge under it and his nose trickled a tiny amount of blood. His arms were covered in scratches and bruises, but the most pressing issue was what seemed to be a paper towel soaked in blood he was holding against the side of his torso.

"Oh my God!" she whisper-yelled, guiding him inside and taking him upstairs to her bathroom. She sat him down on the edge of her tub and dug through her cabinets for a first aid kit.

Y/N didn't ask any questions. She washed her hands, found a clean rag, wet it with warm water, and rubbed a tiny bit of soap on it. Harry was still sitting with the paper towel, which she tossed in the trash can immediately.

"Can you... uh..." Y/N trailed off, gesturing weakly towards his black t-shirt. He nodded, understanding exactly what she meant, and slowly reached up to the back of the neck on his shirt to yank it off his body. He hissed when he was able to lower his arms, and she got straight to work cleaning up his wounds despite his whines.

She'd never been this close to his skin before. That was kind of a weird sentence when she thought about it, but it was true. It was tanned and firm, and a few inches above the cut on his side were the ripples of the serratus muscles. Nice.

Once the cut was cleaned up, it was clear to see that it wasn't bleeding nor had it been very deep in the first place. To be safe, Y/N used an alcohol pad to sanitize the wound once more (which Harry was not a fan of, since he didn't see her pull out the packet nor have time to brace himself) and bandaged it up with a Band-Aid bigger than the palm of her hand.

Harry watched her intently while she tended to him. He noticed how when she focused really hard she always pursed her lips, just like she did when she did his art project. Everything she did to him was delicate, as if getting his ass beaten was enough excitement for one night. Even just her stepping back to admire her handiwork and cocking her head was so... gentle.

"Hmm... you're pretty," he goofily mumbled, making her head snap up. As soon as it was out in the room, he shook his head and ran a hand down his face. "God, sorry about tha'. I think I'm still a little drunk."

"Wow, the first boy who compliments me immediately takes it back and blames it on being drunk. Just my luck, right?" she joked dryly, cleaning the bloody rag and rewetting it with fresh warm water.

He stared at her. "Wait, are yeh serious? The first?"

Y/N paused, staring down at her hands. "I mean... does my dad count?"

Harry laughed at this but only for a second before wincing from the pain. He figured she wasn't counting that skeez who'd tricked her back when she was 15. "Then I take back taking it back. You're beautiful and caring, and I really appreciate you--ah, fuck-- doing this for me."

She'd started dabbing at the dried blood from his still-sensitive nose. "Thank you, Harry. That means a lot." Y/N further inspected his nose, gingerly feeling it and holding the rag below it to prevent any further bleeding. "Doesn't feel like it's broken. Think it's just a little sore. In a day or so you'll be right as rain." Her focus moved up to his black eye, and Harry didn't breathe while she let her thumb ghost over the thin skin. "This doesn't look that deep, either. I'll get something to cool it down, and if it still looks bad, I'll give you some makeup to cover it. Be right back."

She left him alone in the washroom but returned quickly with two little boxes of apple juice. "Why'd y'get two?" he asked, taking them from her.

"So you can drink one. You looked parched." She went back to cleaning the remaining blood from the rag and hanging it to dry on the towel rack. Once the bathroom had been reorganized and Harry had finished his juice box, she sat on the lid of the toilet. "So... if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but... can I ask what happened?" She waved a hand around his entire body.

He snorted. "Honestly, whenever I think about it, I cringe a little. It's so cliché."

"How so?"

Harry inhaled through his bruising nose sharply. "So m'at this party with my mates, right? I didn't know a lot of people there, so I was just trying to mind my business and have a pint or four. I'm sitting in the corner of this house near the front door and I see this girl trying to leave. She's totally wasted, and it kind of looked like she was calling an Uber. I tried t'keep an eye on her 'cause, y'know, world's a dangerous place. Just as she's about to leave, some guy comes up to her. Looks real mad. Demands that she go home with him, which she protests, says her ride is there. They kind of argue while she's going out the door, so I got up to follow 'em." Harry paused to roll his neck side to side, one pop one each side making the only sound in the bathroom. "Out on the porch, he's practically got her in a bear hug. I go into panic mode and start yelling at him.

"I'm yelling at him 'get off her' and 'what's your fuckin' problem' and stuff till I catch his attention. He shoved me, I shoved him back, then it's kind of a blur. Guess he got a couple in on my face before one of his buddies joined in on kicking my arse. I got knocked down and I landed on somethin’ rough which is what cut me up so bad." He gestured towards the bandage on his torso.

"Jeez, Harry," she breathed out, eyes like saucers.

"I know. The girl managed to make it out to her ride while all this was going on. Some other blokes pulled the fighters off me and I didn't know what to do. I grabbed some paper towels from a gas station t’stop the blood and came straight here.” Once he’d finished explaining, his gaze dropped down before adding a soft, “Didn’t know where else t’go.”

She nodded. “I appreciate that. I’m glad you’re okay and I’m glad that girl is as well. The universe will reward you for this for sure.”

He laughed at her ominous remark. “Little weird, but it’s not like I expected normalcy from the art expert.”

Y/N guided Harry back downstairs after giving him a big shirt to change into. “I’ll wash this and give it back as soon as I can, okay?”

He nodded and stopped at the front door. Harry looked down at his little Florence Nightingale, decided to do the one thing he’s wanted to do for almost ten years now, and leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips.

For a second, she was pliable and willing, and he thought she was about to deepen it, but instead she pulled him off. “I need…” she started, dazed. “I need you to forget that just happened.” Then she opened the door, pushed him outside, and closed it in his face.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fiction #harry concepts #harry styles masterlist #permanentcross #majorharry #harryforvogue #jawllines #haroldloverboy

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torentialtribute · 5 years

Text

Harper Beckham joins Romeo and Cruz for football game in Miami

The Beckhams were spotted at home in Miami earlier this week.

And in between looking for their dream home in the States, the Beckham bread – Harper, eight, Romeo, 16 and Cruz, 14 – stopped in Miami Beach to get the most out of the sun.

The youth certainly catch up with their famous father and show off their beam knowledge as they played a friendly game of kick-over on the sand while dad David Beckham and mother Victoria watched.

Family fun! The Beckham brood – Harper, eight, Romeo, 16 and Cruz, 14 – stopped in Miami Beach for a friendly game of football during their house hunting trip to the United States last week

Football-crazy Harper began to rock and proved that she could stand by her big brothers.

Dressed in a striped swimsuit and jeans, the youngest member of the Beckham family did not get lost far from her older brothers during the competition.

Romeo – who is also a talented tennis player – took the lead during the game and wrestled brother Cruz for the ball as they surrendered to a place of friendly competition.

The oldest child, Brooklyn, 20, who is currently doing an internship with Rankin in West London, is not participating in the fun.

Harper was recently spotted with dad David at the 2019 Women's World Cup in Le Havre, France, while England defeated Norway 3-0 to reach the semi-finals.

Like his father: Romeo – who is also a talented tennis player – took the lead during the game and showed his footwork skills

Dynamic duo: he was seen as a struggling brother for the ball when they surrendered to a place of friendly competition

Game: the young people will definitely pick up their famous father and show off their beam knowledge while they play yed a friendly game of kick-over on the sand

Family time: father David Beckham and mother Victoria watched how the young people enjoyed their summer vacation

He's at the ball! Romeo was dressed in a completely black outfit for their family day on Miami Beach

Look out! Harper protected her face while her brothers participated in a particularly energetic tackle

[1945911]

& # 39; I get very excited when I see her & # 39 ;: David had a lot of praise for the skills of his daughter on the field

<! –

Loving father David told Graham Norton earlier that all his hope that his children would follow him in football rests on his only daughter.

He joked: & # 39; Harper plays every Sunday and loves it. The boys don't play and it is heartbreaking.

& # 39; They have talent, but it's up to Harper now. I get very excited when I see her. & # 39;

David divides his time between London and Miami and launches his football team for the expansion of Miami.

Moving to the US? David divides his team between London and Miami as he launches his Inter Miami football extension team

Football fan: loving father David told Graham Norton earlier that all his hope that his children would follow him in football fall on his only daughter

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Beware! The youngster gave her brothers and local children a run for their money during the game

Summer vacation: the Beckhams have been in Miami for a few days now and make optimal use of the summer vacation for children

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Seeing double: David midfielder is seen in the Paris Saint-Germain v Olympique Marseille France Coupe competition in February 2013 "class =" blkBorder img-share "/>

Runs in the family! Romeo (left) seemed to have inherited his father's technique. David (right), however, has expressed his grief that the enthusiastic tennis player and the model are not interested in following him in professional football

The family has visited a generous apartment complex in the city, a visit to Zaha The famous phallic building of Hadid in Miami, 1000 museum

The luxury apartments of the One Thousand Museum are famous in Miami, and are the work of the late architect Hadid.

The 62-storey building is expected to reach an astounding height of 215 meters when it is completed in 2019, making it one of the tallest buildings in Miami, with prices for the apartments ranging from $ 5,900,000 up to $ 21,850,000.

The museum-quality residence has 84 residences, consisting of a duplex two-storey penthouse, 4 townhouses, 10 residences on the full floor and 70 units on the half floor.

Like the luxury private apartments, the building has a communal swimming pool installed at the top of the building, while there is also a two-room spa, hair and beauty salon, acai and juice bar fed by Raw Republic and a be sunbathing area.

Power couple: David and Victoria Beckham have explored the sights – and the properties – in Miami

Be ckham location: David and Victoria have viewed an incredible £ 45m Miami path with rooftop pool and private helicopter platform (photo: artist & # 39; s impression of the property)

Iconic: the luxury apartments of the One Thousand Museum are famous in Miami, and are the work of the late Zaha Hadid

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#Harper Beckham joins Romeo and Cruz for football game in Miami"

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lachalatte · 6 years

Text

A Firefly Shines on Summer

The sun shines bright and through the glass of my class. It leads me to enjoy the beautiful panorama. The poppies which planted on the schoolyard of Westminster School were blooming. Surely it happened because this season was going in mid spring.

“It was a bright, breezy day.” I muttered. Then, someone patted my shoulder. I turned to the source of sound. The pretty girl stands up in front of me.

“Rick, do you want this marshmallows? Daddy brought me it and I can’t spend it all.” She said with her cute smile and handed me a packet of mashmallows.

“Yep, thanks.” I replied. I take a marshmallow and continue my reverie.

Oops, maybe I forget to introduce myself. Ok, my name is Richardo Carpenter, but some people call me Rick. A girl who gave me marshmallow was my stepsister, Lianne Kidy but I called her Lynn. Yeah, my daddy and my mommy had divorced when I was 5 years old and I prefer to stay with my daddy than my mommy. Actually, the problem was because of my mom’s dissatisfaction about my dad’s job which was about a technician who worked inside while my mom worked at the biggest company in London as secretary. Certainly my mom’s salary was more than my dad’s. So, she decided to leave us and married with another man. It made my dad’s broken heart. But he tried to move on and he fallen in love again with a widow who came from Wales and has one daughter. Finally, my dad got married with her. She becomes my stepmother and also her daughter becomes my stepsister. Precisely, Lynn is my older step sister because Lynn was 7 years old at that time. My stepmother really loves my dad. It doesn’t matter with my dad’s job because it’s usual for her. Because of she came from Wales, a country which the family life require for women work outside of the home and men stay at home, precisely she choose my dad as her husband. Anyway, my stepmother is a reporter. She had ever interviewed David Beckham, my favorite footballer.

“Rick, this is your book. Thanks!” Lynn returned my notebook that she borrowed yesterday.

Lynn is my classmate now. It’s not common because I’m younger than her. It happened because I had selected class acceleration so that’s why I could be Lynn’s classmate. Most of my friends said that I’m genius. Lynn often borrowed my notebook because something that I write on it is easy to understand. Furthermore, I can take care of Lynn anytime. So, I am in the 2nd grade of Senior High School at 15 years old and Lynn is 17 years old. It seems that Lynn loves me as her little brother and so do I because when I was with her several times ago, I understood about what’s the meaning of love. Yeah, I have found my love.

The bell is ringing. The sounds startled me and woke me from my reverie. Now is 12.00 am and surely the break time is enough. Then, a guy who wears a shirt comes to my class. He is my teacher who teaches about chemistry. His name is Stephen Munkler, but I and also all students called him Mr. Steve. He is the youngest teacher in Westminster School. He is 22 years old. He is the best alumnus of the bachelor degree in University of Westminster and also alumnus of the master degree in University of Cambridge. He explains about the lesson. He occasionally smiles at Lynn and also me. Furthermore, Steve is our childhood friend. Our first meeting was in Sherwood Forest since 10 years ago. I and Lynn were playing darts at that time. When I threw a dart, it missed stuck in the tree. Steve took the dart for us and we introduced ourselves. Since then we make a friendship until now.

“Rick, Mr. Steve asked me to answer the question. Can you help me?” My desk friend whispered to me.

“What is the question?” I asked.

“What is the name of (NH4)3PO4 ?” he continued. I whisper my answer to him.

“Ammonium Phosphate, Sir!” He answered the question loudly.

“Exactly! Your answer is perfect, Rick!” Mr. Steve complimented me. I think he knew the person who has answered his question. I grin.

Now, it’s time for lunch. I choose legumes and afternoon tea for my lunch. I spend my lunch time at the canteen. Suddenly, a guy comes to me.

“Do my homework now!” He shouted me. He puts some books on my desk.

“I don’t have time for doing your homework. Sorry, I can’t.” I replied and bring my food and beverage to another table.

But, the guy prevents me to go and then he hits me until I can’t move. He will hit me again but Lynn comes to me. As I thought, Lynn was hit by him and she falls on the floor. Then, Mr. Steve and The Principal of Westminster School come to us. The principal punished the mischievous guy. Meanwhile, Mr. Steve and I accompany Lynn to health room.

“Take care of Lynn.” He said to me.

“Sure.” I promised.

Then, he leaves us. I treat Lynn’s cheek which full of bruises, and so she does.

“What a nice guy he is!” Lynn said enthusiastically.

“I think so.” I replied.

“Yeah, that’s the reason why I crazy about him since we met at the Sherwood Forest. I think I really loved him. Kyaaa...” She said.

“W-what?” I gave response to her statement. I’m shocked. I didn’t expect!

“Ugh, I let the chance slip, unfortunately. Don’t tell to the others, Rick! Keep the secret, please!” Lynn begged me.

I nod and agree to keep Lynn’s secret. I don’t know why my heart’s broken. It’s hurt me a lot! How about Steve? Does he love Lynn likes she loves him too? I couldn’t think clearly. I can’t imagine about it. My brain was controlled by this pain.

Recently, I am lost an idea to make something that I must do. This morning, my dad comes to my room with a smile.

“Congratulation, Rick! You are choosen to participate in a student exchange to Indonesia this summer.” He said enthusiastically.

“What? How can it happened?” I’m confused. But actually I’m happy to hear that.

“Mr. Steve recommended you to the principal and then he approved it.” Lynn who came behind of the door explained about how can it happened.

“We will have a party to celebrate this good news. What do you think, Rick?” My stepmother suggested.

“I think it isn’t necessary. But thanks for think about it.” I replied with a smile.

“Oh, what happened with you Rick? Do you have some problems? We will help you to solve it together.” My stepmother calmed me.

“No problem. I’m just tired.” I lied.

“Just take a rest!” They said. Then, they leave me alone in my room.

“Hm... maybe if I take the choice to participate in a student exchange, it helps me to make my pain disappear.” I thought.

The end of spring is coming. I feel the different atmosphere in this night. Tomorrow, I must go to the airport to flights to Indonesia. Therefore, I want spend this end of season in England. I go to Sherwood Forest, the place where I express my feelings. I want to tell what I feel now. I don’t know to whom I want to tell, maybe the atmosphere understand what I feel.

I stand up under the tree which was surrounded by the fireflies. The fireflies shine bright like a diamond and fly to me. I catch one of them and then release it.

“Hey, do you know the place where the fireflies cry? They’re somewhere in the branches of this darkening forest. It seems you assumed that I’m your little brother. Even if I’m the only one daydreaming about you, you wouldn’t hear it. It’s a sad story, isn’t it?” I shouted.

I see the darts plastered on the trunk of tree. I take it and threw the dart. I missed it but I do it reapetedly. My eyes looking straight for a darts.

“Before the season finishes, I will go and fly somewhere. Just you being here beside me is painful. It’s a fleeting love.” I continued my words loudly.

I’ve lost my way, the forest of my heart. I wonder, at least turn your face this way. But, I just can’t tell you about it because...

“Hi, Bro! What are you doing here?” Someone’s voice really startled me. I turned to the source of sound. Oh, he is Steve!

“Ah, Sir. I just want to play for a several times here.” I answered. It’s just an alibi.

“Oh. You want to say goodbye to this place, right?” He guessed.

“Exactly. It gets quiets if I’m not here. I’ve heard a thing said. The fireflies... the distant sky... But, tomorrow that you always think is lonely will be different to today. Isn’t it?” I guessed about what does he think about.

“Hahaha... Yes, of course I and also Lynn will be lonely in this forest without you.” Steve justified.

“Stop! Don’t talk about Lynn!” I thought. However, I just wry smile to hear that.

“Err... about Lynn... Umm... I just want you to know that I love her.” He said.

His words totally startled me. I just wanted you to discover a small thing, an unrequited love, I thought. But my hopes were disappeared since he told that he loves another one. Steve and Lynn love each other but they don’t realize it and I accidentally break their relationship.

“But I can’t tell her because I think she was falling in love with another guy.” He continued his words.

“No! You’re wrong! Lynn really loves you too, Steve!” I thought. But I can’t throw my voice because I don’t know what I want to say. Afterwards, I hear the cicada’s voice and it helps me to say something.

“A firefly which can’t throw the voice is more pathetic than a cicada. And you look like the firefly, Sir.” I said without looking at him.

“What does it mean?” He asked.

“It means that if the fireflies fall in love, then they will be silent because they can’t do anything. It’s different from the cicadas. They can tell their feelings to their love because they can threw their voice.” I tried to give a quote for him.

“You must tell Lynn about it, I mean. I’m sure that she loves you too.” I suggested.

Then, I decide to go home because I must prepare some things that I want to bring for tomorrow. Steve doesn’t know that his words hurt me a lot. And yeah, actually my feelings are different from my words. I’m a coward with the affection defense.

1 month later...

I study in Indonesia and now I’m spending my holiday in a small island in Indonesia. I really enjoy the summer. My handphone is rang. I got one e-mail from Lynn.

I and Steve are spending our holiday in Wales. Enjoy your holiday in Indonesia, Rick! I read the email and see the picture that she sent for me.

I guess that they go to Snowdonia National Park, the biggest park in Wales. They make a special relationship since 3 weeks ago and I was happy to hear that good news. I’m smile, not a fake smile. I swear! I don’t know when the pain was disappear. Yeah, my love for Steve, a forbidden love, was disappear.

I’m so happy to spend my holiday here. This is because I can move on from my heartbreak. It just like a firefly which shines bright and fly away on summer. I feel free without my love. Yeah, maybe love is never quick enough and I’m incomplete in the middle. But I’m sure that I’ll be born anew with another love.

#unrequited love #love at first sight #yaoi #fujoshi #fudanshi

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