#Grant of permission

[ofswordsandpens]

while I do like the added dialogue between Sally and Percy in the minotaur scene, namely Sally's speech to Percy telling him to hold fast, I really wish the scene had more of the urgency that it did in the book. Like Grover's heavily injured to the point of incoherency, Sally and Percy literally have to drag him up the hill, and that's when they're overtaken by the minotaur. In the show, having them all come to a grinding standstill and Grover being fully alert like "sorry I know we're being chased by certain death but your mom's human so she can't come :/" was kind of adflksadfjasdf

oh and in the book Percy doesn't immediately pass out. Instead, Percy doesn't let himself until he's hauled Grover over the boundary line and all the way to the big house because he needs help and it's only then does Percy finally collapse. and idk just the imagery of it all -- Percy crying for help, for his mother -- it always stuck with me and I wish they hadn't taken it out.

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.” 

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was. 

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache. 

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again. 

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.  

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.  

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.  

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s. 

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass. 

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile. 

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket. 

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words. 

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied. 

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.” 

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed. 

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—” 

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers. 

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.” 

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said. 

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right. 

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[borgialucrezia]

(When asked if the slap was real and unscripted) "Yes. Yes He did! We only did one take, he warned me it was coming, but Jeremy isn't the kind of actor to do something without a genuine intention!" — DAVID OAKES

[despazito]

People with zero tolerance for letting their dogs stop and sniff are very weird to me. It's some of the easiest, lowest effort free enrichment you can give your dog

[rainbow-sunshine-unicorn]

The one thing that seeing the full s2 script solidified for me is that Edwina’s defining character flaw is not naiveté but self-absorption instead.

A lot of people attribute Edwina not clocking anything before 2x06 as ‘innocence’ or argue that it was because she was ‘sheltered’. But honestly, the truth is she had it pointed out to her, not just by Kate, who kept trying all the way leading upto the wedding, but even by Daphne, Anthony’s own sister. Yet, she disregards both their perspectives, because it didn’t happen to her.

When Kate tells her about feeling humiliated by Anthony, Edwina’s main argument seems to be that he didn’t really do anything to humiliate her. When Daphne points out that Anthony is not even-tempered, Edwina’s main argument seems to be that he’s even-tempered with her. That’s what counts to her. Even over and above how he’s with his family.

I think that having Kate focus all her attention on Edwina during her childhood, made Edwina direct her own attention inwards, towards herself. That’s how she grew up. We know that Kate sacrificed and scraped pennies to keep them afloat and later to get them to England. So, it’s reasonable that Edwina was her sole focus while she was growing up and that’s what Edwina internalised.

You can even see both their character flaws play out in the scene where Kate has just woken up from her coma.

Even as she’s recovering from a life-threatening head injury, Kate is focusing on Edwina and Edwina is focusing on herself.

I especially think that the things Edwina did end up noticing make this argument stronger. The moment she actually looks at Anthony at the altar, she’s able to piece together the story. Had her obliviousness been due to innocence, she would have not have drawn the conclusion that she did. To know that Anthony “would never look at her, the same way he looks at Kate”, she has to recognise and interpret the signs of love, attraction, and desire, which she does very readily.

Then, why did she not see it before? Because she simply never paid attention to it before. And I’m including Anthony in this, because when she really looks at his face, on the altar, she’s able to tell immediately. All throughout the season, she’s only been paying attention to how he makes her feel, rather than him.

Kate’s character flaw is self-sacrifice and Edwina’s is self-absorption and both of these things drive the season 2 plot.

[stuck-in-jelly]

Corvus, buddy, whose blood is that

Corvus why did they put your weapon in front of the title over the word Aaravos

Corvus

[waspspots]

houghh silvber

[sunsblaze]

I love her sm 💕 kiss kiss

[colombianamala]

post-tumblr clarity

[gojoest]

too many neck kisses + fidgety hips while spooning asking for permission to slide it in 💖💖💖💖💖💖

[lucienarcheron]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Mochi💛 (@art.by_mochi)

Braided hair and Illyrian leathers 😩😍♥️

[fisheito]

watched aegis yaku's r5 and immediately felt the need to balance out the universe [SMUSHES YAKUMO FLAT]

[willyoubemycherryy]

𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲@luvlydeja 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐢𝐭🤭...

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑐 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 2020 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑒 “���𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑒“ 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑢𝑚 𝑇𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑏𝑣𝑖, 𝑠𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦 ♡︎ (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )

❧𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬➬ this is absolutely nasty like I’m shocked at myself lmao, oof um let’s see, detailed kissing, hair pulling, flirting, google translate Italian, shorty gets positively pounded, flirting, teasing, unprotected s3x, manhandling, this is what happens in the hands of the h0rny and untrained😭🫵, lots of orgasms and consensual fun throughout ^^ 18+ MINORS GET OFF OF MY LAWN

“𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝑰 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒍...“

࣪𖤐๋࣭ ໒꒱✧. • 𐙚˙⋆.˚. .

Since he’d be staying in Italy for a while, or at least until he got all the interview material he needed, his first act of business would be to learn the language.

True, he could get a translator but it would be more authentic for him to learn since he’d be the one speaking and asking the questions.

Naturally, Gregory decided that a native speaker would be able teach him best.

Enter you.

He had walked into the convenience store you part timed at and instantly forgot what he was there for when he saw you. The prettiest thing in a sundress he’s ever seen, soft skin glowing with a slight sheen from the heat, your alluring features making his heart race faster the longer he looked at you.

You were talking to a customer in Italian, smiling and nodding in agreement before sharing a laugh with them. Gregory swore he’s never heard the sound warm spun silk but now he can say he officially has.

The words from your beautiful mouth flowed so effortlessly that he knew you would be perfect for him.

The old man who you were talking to was a regular, stopping by every Wednesday to entertain you with stories about his “sweetie baby wife” and how the world won’t stop at losing just their minds, they’re lucky he’s not in charge before buying some cigars and leaving with a lazy wave and wink.

Giggling, you wave back, shouting out after him.

“Vacci piano, ragazzo duro~!”

Smiling to yourself, you look from the door to the newspaper shelf only to lock eyes with a tall foreigner.

The first thing you notice besides his height was that he was insanely good looking. Rugged wasn’t quite the right way to describe his features because while they were sharp, he was just too pretty for that. Biting your lip, you noticed he was broad too; barrel wide chest and thick arms, you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone as classically handsome as him.

You’re so busy ogling him that when he’s suddenly standing in front of you, you startle but regain your wit quickly. Deciding to talk first, but in English.

“What’ll it be boss man?” Flicking your eyebrow up with a playful smile as you lean forward behind the register.

Gregory’s blood rushes south at the way your accented voice addresses him with a flirty look in your big almond eyes. Inhaling sharply he can’t help but smirk back at you.

“I’m looking for a translator since I don’t know much of the language here”, he says.

Goddamn his voice was deep.

Nodding your head to play off how flustered he had you, you get an idea.

Hot guy who needed help learning a language that you just so happen to speak AND moan?

You’re in.

While you’re thinking, Gregory looks you over with all kinds of filth running through his head.

You’d look so good whining naked on top of him.

He could live between your thighs.

What would you sound like when he’s stretching you out and fucking you dumb?

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by the clearing of your throat.

“Well most translators overcharge but since I’m so sweet and if you want, I wouldn’t mind helping you out…?” Realizing you don’t know his name, he rushes to give it to you.

“Gregory.”

“Right. Maybe I could help you out, Gregory…what do you think?” Letting your tone go from intrigued to lilting as you tilt your head to the side, looking at him through your lashes.

You were an absolute dream to him.

Stepping closer to you, he leans down to your face; propped up on his elbows near your own on the register and looks down at you with lidded blue eyes before smiling roguishly.

“I would absolutely love that.”

And just like that the learning process began.

You had taught him things like conversation and structure, how and what to call everyone, transitions and connectors, extensive words, places, and even the slang. Learning from you was hard but the difficulty had less to do with the language and more about how badly he needed to make you cum.

There was always this underlying tension between you two since the moment you met; subtle at first but the steady pent up attraction had it leaking into a more than intense desire.

Constant touches, flirtatious looks, innuendos so obvious that they bordered on invitations then came the teasing.

Whispering in his hear the correct way to say something when he didn’t quite get it right, biting your plump lips when you’d smile at him, but the worst, was the way you’d say his name. Rolling the ‘r’ so sexily that more often than not, it had blood rushing straight to his cock.

Moments like now.

“See? Sei un talento naturale, Gregory. Very good”, you say. Praising him sweetly. You were flirting, have been for a while now and you made sure he knew.

But with the way he reacts to you? The undivided attention, the way he’d strip you with his eyes alone, licking his lips and nodding when he focused hard on what you would say, the lingering hugs and wandering hands, not to mention how close his face sometimes got to yours…

It was only a matter of time.

“No~. Questo è tutto tu, bebé.” The low timbre of his voice makes you break out in goosebumps as heat licks up your spine.

“Yeah? It’s all me?”

“Mhmm.”

“How do I know though?”

“Come vuoi che ti insegni?” (How do you want me to teach you?)

Oof. That’ll make your pussy throb-

“THAT, dipende dal tuo stile..” With that it’s now or never as the air becomes thick with tension.

“That’s fine. Mines is ‘hands on’.

And in one smooth motion, Gregory yanks you into his lap, slotting his mouth over yours in a deep kiss.

He fits his hands around your hips as he completely devours you, one hand moving to slide into your hair, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss, the suction of his lips and yours soon give to him nipping your bottom lip before sucking on it to soothe the sting.

It’s so hot it makes you ache as heat soaks into your body and you moan desperately into his mouth. Gregory grips your hair tighter as he pulls it back to look at how pretty you look wanting and seals his mouth over yours again, swallowing your moans in the process.

Your cunt throbs as you hear him groan when he begins to sloppily lick into your mouth, his big tongue pressing against yours, rubbing his cool taste all over your pallet while you twitch and whimper in his strong grasp.

Sloppy wet kissing sounds along with your whimpers fill the room. The sounds would have made you embarrassed but you want him too bad and the way your tongues lazily swirled around each other’s, making more heat pool in your belly then drip down soaking your panties, made you forget about it.

Gregory groans into your mouth again before kissing you even hungrier to the point where you feel him in your throat as your eyes water in pleasure. You were starting need air but you don’t want it, not more than you want him.

He eventually pulls away and you gasp once your airway is free. The sudden influx of oxygen makes you dizzy as your clit throbs and you whine at him, begging with your teary glazed eyes for more.

Your whole body felt hot. The sensations were almost too good as you grind down on his fat length, moaning at the friction against your swollen clit while you unbuttoned Gregory’s shirt; becoming more desperate when you saw his happy-trail.

He pulls you back to his lips in another obscene kiss while you take his cock out, too desperate to take his pants off completely.

You freeze when you feel how big he is, eyes glazing over as you look down with a weak “oh.”

Gregory swears under his breath at your reaction, making a mental note to make you scream before kissing your ear.

“Sì? Babygirl likes seeing such a fat cock hmm?” He coos, making you gasp at his vulgarity.

“O-okay, if you don’t fuck me right now-“, was all you managed to get out before he lifted you to switch positions, you on your back before thrusting into your sopping cunt.

Your mouth drops open in a sharp moan at the stretch, the pressure almost killing you as you gasp and jerk underneath him. Determined not to cum so fast and make it last, but Gregory isn’t doing much better.

You looked so delicious under him, your back arched in pleasure as you cried out for him as he battered your sweet spots, warm and snug pussy drooling around his cock.

“Hnn - nnnnngghhhh!” The vulgar, borderline animalistic sound eventually forces its way through your gritted teeth when he finishes sliding home some moments later, your eyes rolling straight into the back of your head while your stuffed cunt sensitively flutters around the intrusion. He feels massive inside you. Not particularly long, but sufficiently wide enough to make it seem like he had you stretched right to the breaking point. It was simply too much, and your head lolls back in doped out bliss.

Fervently, your arms circle around his neck as he hunches over you so he can brace his hands on either side of your head, groaning as he moves his hips back before slamming them back in, setting a punishing pace as he fucks you.

You’re already toeing the line of a soul shattering orgasm just from having his cock bullied into you a second time, you toss your head back to peer up at him as if in a daze.

The whorish sounds coming from your throat drive Gregory crazy as he feels himself slip with how mind-tinglingly good you feel.

In a matter of moments he seems to be knocking that tender spot inside of you with near expert precision and you can’t quite catch your breath between helplessly bleating out in wordless ecstasy.

“Fuck, you’re so tight on me mami…wet little pussy..! Gonna cum all in you, stuff you full”.

You seize so suddenly it catches you off guard, so rattled at hearing that come out of his mouth that you clamp down on him, hard. You black out while your cunt is sent into a heated pulsing frenzy, wildly squeezing down on his cock so violently that it brings tears to your eyes. Tossing your head back again, you scream for him as you shake weakly through your mind numbing orgasm that you almost miss the moment your cunt erupts, spraying his front in arousal.

You screw your eyes shut with a keening shriek when a second spurt shoots out of you to further soak him but even then he doesn’t let up on the steady push and pull of his heavy girth along your palpitating cunt. Groaning into your mouth as he cums into your soaking heat, hissing through the waves of overstimulation. With no other option, you lie there and take it, your head a mess of static white noise that doesn’t clear up even when you finally start to come down from the high some moments later.

Boneless underneath him, you’re distantly aware of your shared release running down the sides of his cock in warm rivulets where he’s still wedged inside of you but you’re too drunk on satisfaction to care, kissing back weakly as he slips out.

No matter how hard you fight it, sleep overtakes you but one thing is for sure….

You can’t wait to teach him more♡︎. . .

[justcallme-ange]

Does Techno think he'll never see Dream again once he's finally reunited with XD? :(

Oh no - Dream is a player now, even if he wanted to there's no way for him to actually return to the End Eternal. He gets to visit his papa for a time, but eventually he does have to leave. Techno was actually the one that figured out how to reunite them, after talking with Phil and Kristin about how Players can travel between Realms, since up until this point they hadn't created their own worlds and Phil's End had already been claimed.

[asykriel]

Some gifs of my boy alone before I bring myself to finish Act 1

⛧ ─── 𝗛𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗢𝗡 ─── ⛧

⤷ ʜᴀʟꜰ ᴅʀᴏᴡ ⛧ ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴀᴛᴀɴ / ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ⛧ ꜰɪᴇɴᴅ ᴡᴀʀʟᴏᴄᴋ

⤷ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ: ─ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ ᴇᴠɪʟ ⛧ ᴇɴᴛᴊ-ᴛ ⛧ ᴄʜᴏʟᴇʀɪᴄ-ᴍᴇʟᴀɴᴄʜᴏʟɪᴄ

⤷ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ: ─ ♡ ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ ♡

“𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘰 𝘐’𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘴.

[ask-redsoldier-tf2]

Yo what if-

What if neck kisses?

Soldier: Like vampires?? No thank you, Merasmus had done enough of that last Halloween!!

I still got the bites to prove it!

Engineer: We had to restrain and give him the antidote multiple times that day