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justourimaginations · 7 months ago

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Jealous (Colter Shaw x Fe!Reader)

Summary: Colter gets jealous at you bringing a friend to Reenie’s office party and ends up confessing he’d fallen in love with you.

Trigger Warnings: pretty sure there are non

1.4k words

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Colter was standing next to Velma talking to her about how Teddi was doing and how she could convince her to get yet another dog.

"How do you like it?" Reenie chirped and appeared next to him, handing him a beer. She gestured around her new office.

"It's nice Reenie, you did a great job" he praised her and she smiled.

"Was that a compliment out of your mouth?" She teased and he huffed taking a sip of his beer.

"Just take it" he rolled his eyes and Reenie nudged his side.

"Oh Y/N, finally" Reenie cheered as the door opened and you entered. Colters heart skipped a beat at the sight of you. You smiled brightly at Reenie giving her a hug and Colter was about to walk over to you but he stopped the execution of his movement when he saw a guy walk in behind you. His breath got caught in his lung.

"Hey C, you okay?" Bobby asked raising his brows at him.

Colter cleared his throat, ripping his glance away from you.

"Yeah, of course" Colter replied and took another sip to fight the urge to stare at you again. You walked over to the rest of the group, greeting everyone.

"Hey, Colter" you smiled and hugged him. He swallowed hard as he felt your warmth wrap around him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and he instinctively wrapped his around your waist, pulling himself together to not bury his face in your hair and breath in your scent. He wanted you closer. You pulled away, and he instantly wanted to pull you back in.

"Hi" he finally replied and Reenie was already eyeing him with a raised brow as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

The man you had walked in with reached out his hand and Colter took it but his features had hardened.

"Hi, I'm Josh" the guy introduced himself.

"Colter" he said dryly, his eyes wandering to Joshs other hand which was on your lower back.

"Okaay, who's hungry?" Bobby asked loudly. He wasn't the only one to notice the tension. Everyone agreed, relieved at the distraction, and Reenie brought out various snacks.

You could feel Colters look on you the whole evening. He tried stopping himself from watching you but just couldn't bring himself to it. His jaw clenched every time he saw Josh touching you or making you laugh. Who was that guy to get to be closer to you than he was?

He followed you with his eyes as you walked over to him. His eyes wandering over your figure.

"Reenie did good in here, huh?" You asked him, gesturing around the room. He forced his eyes away from you and looked around the room.

"He your boyfriend?" Colter said, ignoring your question and pointing to Josh with his beer.

You sighed, shaking your head. "No, he is not." Colter raised his brow at you. The knot in his stomach started untangling.

"He's not?"

"No, we went out a few times but that's it" you shrugged. Colter nodded. More untangling.

"So why does he keep putting his hands on you?" Colter asked, pressing his teeth together but avoiding your glance. You mustered his face.

"Why didn't you call me back?" You asked, this time you ignoring his question. Colter turned his face to look at you but couldn't find a good answer. There was none. There was no excuse for him not taking your calls or calling back. The last time you had seen him, you had gone out to dinner. There was no sex, not this time, but it didn't matter. You had just talked until morning, fallen asleep in the Airstream, and the next morning were awoken by your friend calling in panic because you would miss your flight. You had disappeared in a hurry, leaving Colter alone with the roller coaster of emotions. And feelings for you.

"Uhm... I had a lot of jobs" he mumbled, knowing it was the lamest excuse he could have come up with.

You huffed. "Right." You nipped your wine, looking away from his handsome face.

"I'm sorry" he sighed, trying to get you to turn your eyes back to him. He hated that you were unhappy with him.

"Hey Y/N, I gotta get going, you know, early morning, you coming with?" Josh had appeared next to you.

"We're kind of in the middle of something here" Colter grumbled and you shot him a look.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. It's just that we came here together, and I was gonna drive her home" Josh explained, completely missing Colters tone.

"I can take her home" Colter said, his face still stern. You scoffed and pulled Colter a step back at his arm because he had seemed to grow broader in front of Josh.

"It's okay, Josh, thank you for coming with me, I'll see you tomorrow" you smiled at him and gave him a hug. He happily hugged you back, completely oblivious to Colters displeased grunt. Bless him, you thought.

"It was nice meeting you man" Josh said and stretched out his hand. Colter shook it but didn't say anything. Josh walked away, saying goodbye to the rest of the little group.

"You can't act like this" you called him out.

"Like what?" Colter asked, his brows pulled together.

"Like you're my boyfriend or something, like you're jealous, but then you can't even return a simple phone call" you threw your free hand in the air in frustration.

"Y/N..." Colter started but you cut him off.

"You know Colter, it doesn't matter" you sighed in defeat. You looked at him again, his brows were drawn together. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell you what he was thinking, how he was feeling. He couldn't admit that his skin was still simmering from where you had pulled him away from Josh. He knew it wasn't fair how he had treated him. And yes, he was jealous that this random man got to spend more time with you and made you laugh. You walked away from him towards Reenie.

"Oh, what did you do?" Bobby teased, but Colter didn't have a bold reply. He just took another sip of his beer.

"Shit, C" Bobby sighed, interpreting his silence.

"Yeah" Colter sighed.

You lingered a little longer, but Colter could see that the fun of the party had left your face. When he saw that you were giving out your goodbyes, his heart sank. He did not want to leave you like this. Especially since you never knew when you would see each other again. He crossed the room quickly, and you looked at him a little surprised.

“Can I take you home?” he asked quietly, his eyes pleading. You sighed. You couldn’t help but want him to and you could save the money for a cab.

“Fine, but only because I hate cab rides” you agreed with pursed lips. Lips he couldn’t help but think of kissing. He said his goodbyes and you left the office together. You reached the parking lot in silence. Colter was trying to build up his courage.

“You want to know why I didn’t call you back?” he said as you reached the car.

You looked up at him, your brows drawn together. “Whatever Colter.” You didn’t want to hear another excuse.

“I was confused after our dinner.”

“Confused?”

“Yes, before, this…” he gestured between the two of you, “was casual, you know, flirting, sex, really good sex I may add.” You smirked at him. “And then we went for dinner, and it was a great dinner, because afterwards I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Colter took a deep breath.

“And then why didn’t you call me back? Because usually after a great date, I get a call from the guy telling me what a great time he had and that he wants to see me again” you asked, biting the inside of your lip.

“Because… I was afraid to fall for you even more, and because it wouldn’t have been fair to you, because I’m not the guy that sticks around.”

“So, you thought it would be fair to me to just ignore me and make me feel…” your lip was trembling, and you looked away from his face.

“No, but I thought it would be easier for you to forget me. If I’m just the asshole that stopped calling.”

“You really are an asshole” you stated. He nodded and searched your face for more. You stepped closer to him. “But it turns out I have a thing for assholes.” You closed the distance between you and gently brushed your lips to his, not sure if he would kiss you back even though he basically just admitted to being in love with you. Colter breathed out through his nose and pulled you closer by your waist, your hands tangled up in his hair. He deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you so that your back was against his car. He pulled away to catch a breath, his forehead against yours.

"You know if you'd tell me these things we could actually talk about them instead of just cutting me off" you said, your hand on his cheek. He looked at you and you could see the pain in his eyes.

"You deserve someone who sticks around" he said, putting some distance between your faces but not your bodies, as if his mind couldn't win against his bodies need for yours.

"Let me decide what I deserve" you replied, your head tipped to the side. One side of his lips tipped into a smile. "For now, I think I deserve an apology for you not calling me back and I'd prefer if that apology included a bed and you losing at least this shirt."

Colter chuckled. Your hands were playing with the hem of his shirt, brushing the skin underneath, sending shivers through his body and while he saw the danger of doing this, doing you again, he couldn't help wanting to feel you close again.

#colter shaw #tracker #tracker cbs #colter shaw fanfiction #colter shaw x reader #justin hartley #tracker fanfiction

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (8/?)

Part summary: Leigh heads off to Palm Springs with Danny, while you grapple with what to do about your feelings for her.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader, temporary Leigh x Danny | Word count for this part: 5.000+ | Warnings : Slight angst | Author's Note: No, I did not forget about Danny still not being honest with Leigh and R not tattling on Danny. Just let these loose ends dangle for a while. Anyway, enjoy! :)

The morning after you gave Leigh a puppy for her birthday, your phone is flooded with texts from her, filled with questions ranging from vaccine schedules to the best chew toys. She shares a story about how Rogue, their previous dog, had always been Matt’s, and how she often felt left out of his care. Now, with Logan, she feels a full sense of ownership and is eager to get everything right.

You still flinch slightly whenever she mentions her late husband. It’s as if she forgets that you and Matt had something significant too, as if you weren't once the secret he kept close. Sometimes, you wish you could just erase his presence, simplify everything about your relationship with Leigh.

But you recognize that it’s selfish to wish him away, because Matt was a significant part of Leigh’s life, a major influence on who she has become. And who she is today is a lovely person—someone you've come to admire very deeply.

[6:20 AM] Leigh: Logan’s an angel, slept through the night.

[6:35 AM] Leigh: So, house training... how do I make sure Logan doesn’t turn my bed into his personal bathroom like he did five seconds ago?

You grimace at the message, picturing the hassle of laundering the sheets and possibly needing to call a cleaning service for the mattress.

[6:54 AM] Leigh: And shots? Rogue was all up to date because Matt was on it, but I’m clueless. Where do I start?

As you work your espresso machine, a grin spreads across your face, the kind that makes you feel like a complete fool but in the best possible way.

[6:56 AM] You: Good morning! You’re lucky I don’t bill for text consultations 😆

You typically charge $18 for a twenty-minute chat with a client.

[6:58 AM] Leigh: Oh. How much do I owe you? I want to pay.

Your smile falters a little at her missing your joke.

[6:58 AM] You: I was just kidding. Your texts are more than welcome, Leigh.

Feeling bold, you follow that up with something you've been wanting to make clear since last night.

[6:59 AM] You: This is what friends are for, right?

Waiting for Leigh’s reply feels like an eternity, and you're about to send another text to walk back your hint at friendship when your phone vibrates.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: I’d feel better paying. Can I drop by the clinic later?

Reading her message, you're hit with a rush—excited at the thought of seeing her, yet downhearted she's talking about paying, as if that's what's between you. But then, those little typing dots appear. You're practically holding your breath.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: We’re friends, which is why I’m paying.

It's a good thing you don't have a roommate, or else you'd never get away with grinning like an idiot at your phone. It's a bit ridiculous, you think, how high school this all feels—waiting for a glimpse, a moment, anything.

[7:01 AM] You: Absolutely, come by anytime. Looking forward to it 🙂

You hit send and lean back, trying to act like you didn't just have a mini celebration over a text.

And then, spurred by Leigh texting you first thing in the morning, you decide to add her on your social media accounts. You spend an extra fifteen minutes getting ready that morning, simply because you lingered longer in the shower, listening to songs that remind you of Leigh and how this crush is dangerously close to becoming something uncontainable.

[10:13 AM] Notification: Leigh accepted your friend request.

As it turns out, Leigh is a serial texter.

It’s odd, really. For someone who might come across as reclusive and somewhat untouchable, she is surprisingly talkative over text. The messages start coming in more frequently after this morning's exchange, just moments after you've finally left home to drive to your clinic. What's even more interesting is that this time, they're not about Logan.

And they’re all unusually random and unrelated to one another: memes that make you laugh out loud, articles on topics ranging from the philosophical implications of artificial intelligence to the best way to juicing recipes. You find yourself waiting for these messages, eager to see what tangent Leigh's mind has wandered off to now. You get into it, dissecting the articles she sends over with the seriousness of a scholar. You type back your thoughts, trying to sound as insightful as possible, maybe even a bit witty, hoping to impress her. You imagine this might be her way of initiating deeper, intellectual conversations between you two.

So, when you send back a paragraph or two analyzing the latest article she's shared, maybe touching on its impacts on modern society or offering a counterpoint to the author's thesis, Leigh's responses aren’t what you expect. Instead of engaging with the discussion, she sends a simple thumbs-up emoji or, even more baffling, a random factoid about her day, like her opinion on the Kani salad from a sushi bar near the Beautiful Beast gym.

[12:15 PM] Leigh: [sent a photo] Just some store-bought crab sticks and diluted mayo. Don’t try it. Their saké though is 👌👌👌

You wonder why she’s having Japanese rice wine this early in the day.

[12:22 PM] You: Thanks for the heads up. I know a place for authentic Japanese food. You want to check it out with me some time?

Your text remains unseen for the rest of the afternoon.

You find yourself staring intently at the wall clock in your clinic, keenly aware of each minute slipping by, and with it, the dwindling chance of Leigh arriving before the doors lock for the day. As it nears 8 in the evening, Suzie is already wrapped up in her end-of-day tasks across the lobby. Leaning your cheek on your palm, you watch blankly as she meticulously arranges her desk, perfectly aligning each item, then moves on to gently pull the blinds closed on each window.

Suzie’s not blind. She throws you these knowing glances every time you let out one of your heavy sighs. Finally, after you've probably sighed loud enough to be heard next door, she stops what she's doing and plants herself in front of you.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

You try to look puzzled. “Nothing. Why?”

Suzie rolls her eyes. “Please, you’ve been mooning over that clock and sighing like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders. What’s up?”

You crack a smile, partly at her description, partly from being caught moping like a lovesick teenager. “It’s just… I thought maybe Leigh would come by. She said she would,” you say, wincing at yourself when the last part comes out a bit whiny.

Without missing a beat, Suzie pivots from her closing duties and makes her way over to you.

She’s not delicate with you this time. “You’re doing that thing again. Waiting around for something that’s probably not gonna happen. It’s not doing you any good.”

You know she's hitting the nail on the head, but it's tough to swallow.

Suzie continues, “You're young, you're attractive, and it's honestly weird that you're pining over your ex's ex. At first, I thought it was kind of adorable, in a bizarre, romantic-comedy kind of way. But now, it's like you're always hung up and disappointed.”

“Thanks for saying I’m young when I’m five years older than you,” you say with a sheepish smile, hiding your disappointment that she isn’t saying the things you want to hear, such as the possibility that Leigh just got busy.

Suzie shakes her head in disapproval. She's fed up, and her next words aren't going to be sugar-coated. “Snap out of it!” she barks, the command hitting you like a cold splash of water, and you jerk back in your chair, wide-eyed. Seeing you shrink back, quivering, she softens a bit and shifts back to the harmless receptionist you’re used to.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Suzie says, ensuring she has your full attention. You manage to meet her gaze, even though your eyelids feel heavy. “It's not fair to Leigh, either. You're giving meaning to everything she does—or doesn't do. It's putting her in an impossible situation. And honestly, it's not fair to you. You're missing out on your own life, waiting for someone who... well, who might never show up the way you want her to.”

Suzie knows she’s being tough, but sometimes love means being the friend who won’t let you settle for anything less than you deserve.

“I hear you, okay? It’s just… it’s the way I’m wired. I latch onto a person like a leech, refusing to let go until I see it through,” you mutter, shielding your face with your hands, a bit ashamed to even say it out loud. You get so tunnel-visioned, missing out on maybe better things and experiences because you're stuck on one track. You fall hard for your choices, never by chance.

“Good. You know what’s wrong with you,” Suzie says softly.

You let out a weak chuckle, the sound tinged with a bit of self-mockery. You're half-hidden behind your hands, peeking out at Suzie as if she's got all the answers. Suzie pries your fingers away from your face and then pinches your cheek so hard, you start to whine a bit.

“Ow! What was that for?” you protest, rubbing your assaulted cheek.

“That's for being a pathetic little bitch.”

“Excuse me, I'm still the one signing your paychecks,” you shoot back, trying to sound offended but it’s hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure thing, boss,” she laughs, and you join in.

“Okay, so what do you suggest I do then?” you ask as the last of your chuckles die down.

“Go on a date,” comes her swift response. “All that stuff they say about love finding you when you're not looking? Biggest lie ever.”

You look at her curiously, assessing her physical features. “W-With you?”

“Dude, no! Not with me!” Suzie exclaims, laughing nervously. “I mean, sure, I'd take you out if you weren't my boss, but I don't see that happening anytime soon unless you fire me.”

“Got it, got it,” you say, still chuckling. Suzie realizes too late that you were just teasing her and huffs. “Not with you. But seriously, go on a date? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Just meet someone.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“Because it is,” she says with a shrug. “Here. Give me your phone.”

Leigh doesn’t know what to do with the fact that you may or may not have feelings for her.

So, she does what she does best: Pretend.

Leigh pretends you’re not EspressoEyes. In her mind, it could just be a coincidence, and you might not be the person who wrote to her advice column. Without any concrete evidence, she holds onto this notion, using it as a shield to fend off the uncertainties and doubts that would follow if she believed otherwise.

Leigh pretends because she needs your help to figure out how to care for Logan. Because maybe she wants to be friends. When you join her for a run, you don’t press for conversation, a rare companion who's not afraid of silence. Having you around feels like having Matt around, in a way that she's reminded of him when you talk about the same things you like, the same books you've read, and the same music you listen to.

Leigh pretends it doesn’t bother her in case you are EspressoEyes. She’s no stranger to turning heads as she walks down the street, accustomed to the attention. There's a certain power in being desired, and Leigh revels in it. But the idea of you liking her doesn't quite make sense to her; it's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. It’s not because you’re a woman—she’s been with women before. What Leigh can't wrap her head around is that you, of all people, could actually be into her. After all, she hasn’t exactly been her most charming self since you two met. Even her best friend is keeping a cautious distance. She’s been wearing down the people closest to her, those who are supposed to like her the most.

And this bewilderment doesn't sit well with Leigh. She is someone who thrives on understanding, on knowing where she stands with people and why. So, when pretending isn’t enough, she does what she does second-best: Avoid.

She must have been waiting in her car outside your clinic for the better part of the evening, debating with herself about what to do next. She's parked just out of view, positioned so she can see the clinic entrance without being too conspicuous. She hasn't eaten dinner yet, her stomach growling, but she remains glued to her spot across from where she knows you're waiting for her.

Ever since you subtly asked her out through text, she’s been on edge, second-guessing her actions (texting and sharing posts on the internet with you all morning, what was she thinking?) and wondering what they might have meant to you. Leigh didn’t mean to leave you hanging—she did come to your clinic, sort of. She remembers typing out a response to you, something witty and non-committal, but her finger hovered over the ‘send’ button before pulling back. It felt like too much, too soon. She needed time to think, to figure out why the idea of checking out authentic Japanese food with you left her feeling so conflicted inside.

Leigh's guilt gnaws at her as she sits there, wrestling with how to extricate herself without causing further confusion—or worse, hurt. Eventually, it all comes to a head. She finally gives in, typing out a message to you on her phone with a shaky urgency.

[7:53 PM] Leigh: I'm so sorry, something came up. I can't make it to the clinic after all.

Your reply comes quickly, much to her astonishment, especially since she hadn't opened your message all afternoon.

[7:54 PM] You: It's fine, don't worry about it. I can have Logan's supplies delivered to your place if that works better for you.

Reading your text, Leigh bites her lip, another surge of guilt washing over her. Your kindness, your willingness to accommodate her, only complicates this predicament further.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: Yes, that would be great, thank you.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: How much do I owe you?

As she starts nibbling at her cuticle, Leigh is eager to resolve at least the financial aspect of her obligation. Though she knows she owes you so much more than just Logan’s supplies.

[7:56 PM] You: Like I said, it's on the house. But just this time ☺️

It’s still too generous. But Leigh knows better than to argue further, concerned that insisting might hurt your feelings.

[7:56 PM] Leigh: Thank you. I won’t forget this.

[7:57 PM] You: 😊😊😊

Leigh sighs, remembering her promise that you could visit Logan anytime. She hopes you won’t take her up on that offer too soon, at least not until she has a chance to sort herself out.

Danny isn’t too bad once you get to know him. That's what Leigh learns after more than two months of dating him.

Initially, Leigh wasn't sure what to make of Danny. Their shared wit and sarcasm often put them at odds, like two alphas vying for the upper hand, each one not willing to back down, always aiming for the last word. Yet, in their calmer moments, when the competitive edge fades and they're just enjoying each other's company, Leigh finds something unexpectedly comforting about being with him. He has this confidence about himself that Matt never had, knowing exactly what he wants—and that's her. His straightforward approach makes everything about being with him feel predictable. And lately, she's starting to see predictability as a good thing, a sign of stability. This is a welcome change from the uncertainty that often left her anxious about the future. Plus, all these traits spill over into the bedroom, making the sex between them feel effortless and satisfying in a way she’s never experienced before.

Despite all this, there are days when Leigh finds herself merely tolerating Danny's affections. A part of her remains tightly locked, still bruised from losing Matt, and she's not sure if those doors should—or even can—open again. To compensate, she often says yes when she can, whenever her mood permits her to be giving and amenable.

And it is exactly why she says yes when Danny asks her to go to Palm Springs with him this weekend.

The getaway feels like an extended lazy morning where the concept of time blurs into insignificance. They drift from one hotel restaurant to another, luxuriating in the art of doing absolutely nothing. This routine isn't new to them; it’s the same one they slip into whether they’re at Danny’s apartment or Leigh’s place—only now, the scenery is different, and the sheets they tangle in are expensively soft, boasting a thread count far beyond anything either of them owns at home.

They're lounging by the pool, sipping Margaritas—Leigh with a book in hand and Danny absorbed in his phone—when your name comes up in conversation.

“So, how are things between you and Y/N?” Danny asks, not looking up from his phone.

Leigh stiffens slightly. She carefully moderates her tone, her face schooled into an expression of indifference as she marks her page and looks over at him. “What about me and Y/N?”

“I don't know... are you guys friends now?”

If Leigh weren’t so preoccupied with her own personal concerns about you, she might have recognized the underlying worry his question poses. What he's actually trying to figure out is whether you've come clean to Leigh about his role in Matt’s secret affair with you.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” she says. To say otherwise would be a lie, because you’ve been nothing but good to her. Danny seems satisfied with this answer, nodding before returning his attention to his phone.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” he mumbles. He's back to mindless scrolling, but Leigh can sense the tension from two feet away.

“No, tell me,” Leigh insists, placing her book on the side table between them with a definitive thud. Danny mirrors her actions, setting his phone face down and turning to her with a seriousness that clashes with their otherwise relaxed afternoon.

“I just don't get why you'd be friends with Matt's mistress,” he blurts out suddenly.

Leigh is taken aback. They've never fully discussed what transpired between you and Matt, so she hadn't realized he was paying such close attention to her interactions with you. Believing that he wasn't privy to all the details, she quickly jumps to your defense.

“Y/N didn’t even know Matt was married to me,” she explains, trying to clarify the misunderstanding and protect your integrity.

“Yeah? And you just took her word for it?” Danny doesn’t bother to hide his skepticism, and it irks Leigh more than usual. She doesn't understand why every conversation with Danny has to turn into a challenge or an argument.

“There’s no evidence to suggest otherwise,” Leigh replies, her voice tightening as she struggles to keep her frustration in check. “I mean, I even went through your phone to see what Matt had been saying to you, and there was nothing there indicating that Y/N knew he was married.”

Danny feels a lump form in his throat. Fortunately for him, Matt hadn't mentioned anything in their texts about Danny being Nick either. He has been debating whether to disclose his role in everything to Leigh. But things between them have gotten serious, and Danny's not so sure he should come clean. Part of him wants to delay—perhaps until they are married with kids, when he's more certain that Leigh won't leave him over a past mistake.

“Look, I'm not saying don’t trust her, but... she used to be in love with Matt, right? You don't think there's a chance she resents you even a little?”

Leigh stops for a second, Danny's words prompting her to consider aspects she hadn't really thought about before. Wrapped up in her own insecurities, jealousy, and pain when she discovered the truth about you, she had never stopped to consider your perspective—how you might have felt learning that the man you had feelings for was married. Did you feel just as fooled and stung as she did? The thought bounces around her head for a moment. From what she can recall, nothing in your behavior has ever suggested that you're a bitter ex. But then, what if you're just exceptionally good at masking your feelings?

Do you really like her, or is it all an act—a scheme?

But then, she remembers the night you gave her Logan, how your smile was nothing but warm, your eyes bright with something that, looking back, Leigh realizes might have been admiration. Not even Danny looks at her like that, whose gaze is always bridling yearning and a desire to possess. Leigh shakes her head, almost laughing at the thought of Danny being right about you.

“Danny, honestly,” Leigh finally says, trying to put an end to the discussion, “if what you're saying is true, I can handle it myself.” It seems the quickest way to close this topic, knowing that debating it could easily consume their entire afternoon and completely derail the purpose of their vacation.

“But doesn't it hurt, having her around? Like a reminder that Matt went for someone else?” He's playing on a different fear now, not questioning your integrity, but poking at the scars Leigh's tried so hard to heal.

Leigh wants to admit the pain never went away. She’s merely learned to co-exist with it. It's like the weather for her: on some days, her mind is a landscape of clear skies, but when the storm hits, it's relentless. For now, she chooses to keep this pain private, unwilling to give anyone the leverage to use it against her or even attempt to fix her. It's her burden to bear, and hers alone.

“No,” Leigh answers, reaching for her book again. “I don’t see it that way anymore.”

Leigh ends her nearly year-long social media hiatus by posting a series of photos from her Palm Springs vacation with Danny. Sharing such personal moments publicly is uncharacteristic for her, especially given her minimal online presence over the past months. Maybe it felt like sending a message to everyone that she’s doing okay. That they can go back to seeing her as just Leigh again—a single, actively dating woman in her early thirties—not as the young widow she was in her late twenties.

Danny's friends are the first to swarm the comments. They tag Danny, peppering the feed with teasing remarks, their comments ranging from jokes about the desert heat to compliments on the couple's sun-drenched physique. It's all typical, light-hearted friend banter, until one comment sharply disrupts the mood:

“Yo, isn't that your brother's wife?”

Leigh deletes the comment within seconds of seeing it.

A few hours later, you ‘like’ her post. Leigh's eyes fix unblinkingly on the notification. She's been idly wondering if you'd seen the post, and now, you’ve confirmed it yourself. But what does that ‘like’ mean?

Is it a nod of approval, a silent indication that you're happy for her? Regardless of what it means, Leigh discovers she was sending another message—one that’s exclusively for you. It tells you that whether you're EspressoEyes, whether you harbor any feelings for her or not, it no longer matters.

She's with Danny now.

Returning from Palm Springs, Leigh feels different—like she’s turned a corner or something. She feels refreshed, and she wants to take on something, such as Drew’s grievances about her advice column. She picks one to start with, something about anniversary ideas, and she's got the perfect story for this.

It was one of those anniversaries with Matt, the kind that stands out from the rest of his surprises because it's so quintessentially him—albeit a little nerdy. He took her away from the city's glare to a secluded spot where the sky was a blanket of stars, untainted by artificial light. After laying out a rug for them to both settle on, he began the painstaking process of setting up a rather complex telescope. It took him nearly an hour, but the wait just made the moment even more special. With the telescope finally ready, Matt pulled out this old, crinkly constellation map and started hunting for one specific star. It was one of the last times Leigh remembered them being truly happy—deeply in love, free from the shadows of Matt’s depression, Leigh’s instinct to fix things, and the small lies that slowly eroded their relationship.

When he finally located it, he excitedly guided her to peer through the telescope. There it is—a tiny speck of light, but it's theirs. Matt turned to her with a bashful smile and revealed that he had 'bought' that star for her.

Leigh shares this story with her reader, emphasizing that it's about understanding what truly moves your partner. For her, it was that star—simple, unexpected, and insanely romantic. She tells her reader to find that one-of-a-kind thing, that personal touch that says “I love you” in a way that can only come from them. Just like Matt did with a star and a starry night.

It's only after she closes her laptop that Leigh realizes tears have been streaming down her face.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It takes a moment to recognize who you've just bumped into. This encounter isn't as jarring as the last; it’s merely a brush of shoulders as you both maneuver to avoid incoming traffic. That ‘incoming traffic’ turns out to be none other than Leigh Shaw.

She's beaming up at you, and it looks genuine despite the sparse interactions since she last canceled on you. You’re still catching your breath, your heart racing from the speed of your run and something else entirely.

“At least I didn’t make you crash on the pavement this time. I'd say that’s significant progress,” you quip, drawing a soft laugh from Leigh. Last week, you made the firm decision to compartmentalize your feelings for Leigh, resolving to see her strictly as a friend. Yet, when faced with reality, such resolutions seem trivial, particularly when that reality includes Leigh smiling at you with her effortlessly charming grin—a smile that, despite your best efforts, still sends a familiar flutter through your stomach and makes your knees feel like they're made of something much less solid than bone.

“Speaking of progress, Logan’s due for his vaccines this week, right?” You remember the schedule clearly, not just because you’re good with dates, but because Logan has become somewhat of a shared responsibility between the two of you—or at least that’s how you still see it.

“Oh, right. I promise I'll swing by. No bailing this time,” she says, chuckling, but there’s a serious undertone that tells you she’s committed to making good on her word this time.

“You better not,” you tease, “Can’t have Logan missing his shots. He’s still very young, and it’s critical we build up his protection against—”

“I won’t, Doctor,” Leigh cuts in, giving you a playful salute that makes you blush. “So, where are you off to after this? I was actually about to grab some donuts for breakfast—”

Leigh pauses mid-sentence as a woman appears at your side. She’s stunning—slightly taller than Leigh, clad in a sports bra and tight yoga pants, with sneakers on her feet. An absolute goddess; even Leigh can’t resist a quick, appreciative glance.

“Who's this?” the woman asks with a British accent, adding the perfect touch to her 5-foot-7 frame.

“This is Leigh,” you introduce quickly, noting the surprise in Leigh's expression. “Leigh, this is Sara.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Sara says warmly, extending her hand. Leigh shakes it, though her movements are somewhat mechanical. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Leigh’s smile is strained. “Nice to meet you, too.”

You quickly steer the topic back to Leigh's breakfast plan, asking where the donut place is. “It's just down that street,” Leigh points vaguely, but then stops short. Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “Actually, I just remembered I've got to pick up something from the laundromat.”

You frown, thrown by her sudden change of tune. “Are you sure? We could grab a bite after the run.”

“No, really, I should get going. Maybe next time!” Leigh replies hastily, already stepping back, her exit swift and decisive. As she hurries away, you're left there, watching her leave, trying to figure out what flipped her mood from happy to wanting to escape so quickly.

“Shall we?” Sara nudges you gently, already jogging in place.

You give Sara a nod, but as you start running, you can't help but sneak one last look back. Leigh is quick to put distance between herself and the park. With a sigh, you turn your full attention back to Sara, who’s already picking up the pace, chatting about a new trail she wants to try next weekend.

“Let's go,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, as you push your legs to match her pace.

Meanwhile, Leigh walks briskly to a different restaurant, forsaking her initial craving for donuts. She can’t quite explain why she fabricated an errand; all she knows is that she needed to get away from you and Sara. Earlier, she couldn't help but notice how close Sara was standing to you, assessing you with a look that seemed a bit too interested. Leigh keeps turning over Sara's words in her mind, puzzling over what she meant by saying she'd heard a lot about her from you.

Why were you talking about her with Sara? Who exactly is Sara to you? Just a friend, or something more?

And what Leigh finds even more perplexing is why she's so troubled by needing to know the answers.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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pamwritessometimes · 7 months ago

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Tuesday's Gone — Chapter 3

Russell Shaw x reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: missing child trope, mentions of being stalked, language

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Catch up on Chapter 2 here

Tuesday’s Gone masterlist

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You opened the door, expecting only Colter standing there. But he wasn’t alone. It was the man behind him that made your heart skip a beat.

Russell.

The past flooded back to you in an instant. Memories of the love you once shared, the betrayal when you found out the truth about him, and the pain of sending him away, and never telling him about the child you were carrying. Not that you knew it at the time or that you ever wanted to contact him again later when you did.

And it wouldn’t have changed a thing.

He lied to you. He kept secrets from you. No matter how much you wanted this to work out… he put you in danger. And now, even without his knowledge, he possibly put Emma in this situation, too.

Colter looked between the two of you, tension and a smudge of guilt in his stance. “I’m sorry. I needed to call him” he said cautiously. “He needed to know. And… he’s the only who can actually help.”

You looked between the two men, your eyes landing on Russell more than you dared to admit. He still looked the same, more or less. A few new scars here and there, maybe his hair and beard got a tiny bit longer– but he barely changed.

It was an undeniable contrast to your appearance. You felt the weight of raising a child alone while keeping your work… And now, your daughter’s missing. You felt it all being soaked in the way you looked. Your joggers were slightly loose now from the weight loss you experienced from it all, dark circles were decorating your concerned face, and your hair was a mess and unfortunately not in a cutesy, pinterest way.

But somehow, Russell didn’t seem to notice all these little things. He was focused only on seeing you again. The mother of his child. The one that got away.

As if sensing the tension in the air between you two, Colter nodded back to the front yard and said “I think you’ve got some things to talk about. I’ll take another look at the scene.”

You nodded, still in shock as you stepped aside to let Colter go. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with Russell.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Finally, he broke the deafening silence. “Y/N” he said softly, stepping closer. “I have so many things to–”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself as you interrupted whatever he wanted to say. You didn’t have the time or energy for this.

“You shouldn’t be here, Russell.”

He shook his head, his eyes pleading. “I had to come. Colter told me everything. About Emma… about what happened.”

“I swear if this…if it has anything to do with you—“

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” he interrupted. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry for everything, how it all ended.”

“Sorry won’t cut it. You” you poked his chest with your finger. “I don’t have time for you. My daughter’s missing and—“

“She’s my daughter, too.”

“No” you shook your head as a few stray tears made themselves visible in the corners of your eyes. “No, you can’t say that. You don’t even know her. Never even met her.”

“Y/N, please” he sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. It was still a nervous habit of his, you noticed. “You have every right to be angry at me. Every goddamn right. But, please, let me— let me help. I want to find her. I want to—“ he trailed off. “I want to meet her. I need to know she’s safe.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. You wanted to believe him, to let go of the anger. But how could you?

“Why are you here, Russell? Are you actually worried about her… or are you just feeling guilty?”

“Because I didn’t know” he replied, his expression softening. “I didn’t know what I was missing until Colter called. He told me about Emma, about how scared you must be. And hell yes, I feel guilty. I— I wish I knew about her” he sighed. “Maybe I could have protected her from all of this.”

Just as you were about to answer him, to tell him another wave of fuck yous, Colter marched into the house. “I think you should see this.”

Both you and Russell turned to the younger Shaw, and you eyed him warily. “What?” you asked, still heated from the argument you and his brother had.

“There are new footprints on the front porch.” Colter said and motioned for you to follow him out.

Once you were out the door, he crouched down and nodded to Russell and you to do the same. You both compiled and once Russell inspected the new traces, his brow furrowed deeper. “This” he motioned to the dirty print “is new. Like, a couple hours new.”

“Exactly. Whoever was here–“ Colter stood up and once he did, you all could see that he had a great view from the window to the inside of the house. “–was watching you.” Colter looked at you.

Your heart skipped a beat. Someone was in your front yard very recently. Watchin– no, stalking you.

You couldn’t believe this was your life now, not a lousy true crime TV show.

But whoever was here… they might be the key to finding Emma. And that’s good enough for you.

Russell remained crouched, examining the footprint intently. Y/N and Colter were too distracted by the chilling realization that someone had been watching her to notice the thoughts racing through Russell’s mind.

Frankly, he recognised these footprints. The grooves and pattern on the sole were unmistakable.

Ecca Boots. He owned one just like that – it was the unofficial tactical shoewear at Horizon. And they knew he would know that. They knew he would find it. This wasn’t just a trace left behind; it was a message meant specifically for him.

Another wave of guilt and anger rose in his chest. Now he was sure that Emma had been taken because of him. Because he’d left Horizon just months ago.

It was a decision he’d agonized over for more than five years before finally walking away. He’d known it wouldn’t be easy. Nothing ever was with Horizon. But this? Even for them, this was a new low.

“I know these prints.” he spoke up finally as he stood up.

Your heart stopped as you turned from Colter to him. “What do you mean you know them?”

Russell straightened. “It’s someone from Horizon.”

“You sure?” Colter shot him a look as he stepped closer.

“I’m sure. The boots, the pattern – they’re standard issue for field agents” His voice was controlled, but you could see the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “They know I’d recognize them.”

“So were they watching me, us, because of you?” you asked, your voice rising with that familiar anger. “You really are the reason for all of this mess?”

Russell’s eyes flickered with guilt. “I don’t know” he said, though even he didn’t believe it. Deep down, he knew this was all because of his choice to leave Horizon. But he’d rather die than admit that his decision had put his daughter, and you, in danger. “It’s… it’s possible” he added reluctantly. “They could be trying to draw me out.”

“You– “ you hissed. “you not only put me in danger…. but also Emma” you said, taking a step back. Putting you into a life-threatening was one thing. But now it was about your daughter, your little girl…

“I know” he said with a voice soft but firm. “I know, and I hate that I did. I thought I—“ he didn’t finish his sentence. He knew no explanation would make it better. “But I'm gonna make this right.”

You stared at him, torn between the fear that he was right, and the hope that maybe he could help. That maybe he was the only one who could.

Colter’s voice cut through the tense conversation. “We don’t have time to argue about this. If Horizon’s involved, we need to act fast. We can use this to our advantage. If they left a trail, we can follow it.”

Russell nodded, stepping forward. “I know how they operate. I can track them.”

You raised a brow. “And why would they leave you a trail this obvious?”

“They want me to follow it” Russell said. “It’s a trap, I’m certain” he sighed. “…but I’ll spring it if it means finding Emma.”

You crossed your arms, your mind racing a million miles per hour. Every instinct screamed and shouted not to trust him, not after everything he’d done to you and Emma. But at the same time, he was offering to walk straight into danger for her – hell, for you both. You had no idea how far Horizon would go, but Russell seemed to understand their tactics, and right now, that was more than you had. It was your only chance at seeing your daughter again.

“You really think you can find her?” you asked quietly, desperately trying to hold on to that strength that kept you going these last two days.

“I don’t just think it” he said, his gaze locking onto yours. “I know I can. In fact… I believe this is all made for me. They’re leaving just enough crumbs to keep me on their trail. It’s their way of making a point. A warning that nobody walks away from them that easily.”

Colter glanced back to the yard, the tension in his posture hardening to focus. “If Horizon’s watching you and us, they’d leave more than footprints. They must have left something here to know your routine. Or to lead us to them.”

Russell nodded, dropping back down to study the ground, and Colter moved alongside him, checking nearby spots with methodical precision.

You watched them both, your mind racing. Russell’s expression was intense as he was sweeping through the property, and it hit you again just how much he knew about the dark world he’d tried to keep hidden from you.

Colter circled the yard, crouching down to check under the shrubs. He reached beneath one, pulling out a tiny, glinting piece of metal. Just like he expected. He held it up, squinting as he inspected it. “Looks like a tracker” he muttered and looked up at his brother who took the device from Colter.

“They planted a fucking tracker in my yard?” you asked.

Colter nodded. “And they placed it where they could monitor you without getting too close. Plus, this doesn’t look homemade.”

Russell’s gaze fell as he studied the device closely. Those bastards are probably listening even right fucking now. It means they probably already know Russell’s involved. Just how they wanted.

“Yeah, figures. This isn’t just some basic eBay find. It’s high-end, military-grade. They wouldn’t bother with this level of surveillance unless they were planning something… thorough” he said as he destroyed the goddamn tracker with his bare hands.

You shivered at his words, but you couldn’t help and feel a hint of admiration for how easily he could break that thing. “If they had a tracker all along… why would anyone watch me from the window?”

“To leave a message to me. If we didn’t find the footprints we wouldn’t have found the tracker.” Russell replied grimly. “It’s all their scheming.”

You closed your eyes, every little information sinking in, highling the gravity of the situation. “So… they’ve been here, watching us… What else did they leave behind?”

Colter’s eyes scanned the area. “They’ll have had an exit route, somewhere nearby and quick. Russell, think back– where would they go after setting up surveillance here? If you were still on their team… where would you go from here?”

Russell’s eyes narrowed as the gears in his mind were turning hard and fast. “There’s an old warehouse about a mile east, on the edge of town.” he remembered. “It’s been abandoned for years, but it’s got exits to multiple side streets and connects to the main road. If they wanted to avoid detection, that’s where they’d set up. That’s… where I’d set up.”

Colter nodded. “Why does it always have to be a warehouse?” he muttered to himself, already moving to the edge of the yard. “We need to check that out, then. If they’re using the area as a base, there might something that leads us to Emma. Y/N” he turned to you. “I know you don't want to sit here, but coming with us – it’s dangerous.”

You scoffed, your heart rising with frustration of them trying to leave you here again. “Dangerous? What about staying here where they can monitor me however they want? You call that safe?” you asked a little more harshly than you intended to. You sighed and continued. “I can’t just… sit around here and wait when my daughter’s missing. She– she must be so fucking scared… She just needs me. So I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not.”

Colter’s jaw clenched, but before he could respond, Russell stepped in. “She’s right. If they’re watching, they’ll know when we leave. We can’t afford to split up. If Y/N stays, they might see it as an opportunity to–“ he didn’t even finished his sentence. He didn’t dare to even think about what they’d do to her. “We need to move as a unit.”

You kept your face hard as you managed to not roll your eyes at his words. Despite his intentions to help, your mind still struggled to accept his assistance.

Colter hesitated, but after glancing between you and Russell, he nodded reluctantly. “Fine.”

You followed them as they made their way out of the yard, adrenaline coursing through your veins. As you reached the edge of the property you turned back to look at your home, a place that had once felt safe but now felt polluted by uncertainty.

The house wasn’t anything special or modern. It sat comfortably on the edge of Idaho Falls, in a quiet neighborhood where people still waved to each other. The paint was slightly faded, giving it a soft, well-loved look, and the porch had a few creaky wooden steps that somehow added to its charm. Two rocking chairs worn smooth with age, sat under the shade of the front porch. The yard was small but cared for with wildflowers along the path and a weathered birdhouse nestled in a nearby tree. You loved tending the garden and the little oasis you created for yourself and Emma to play in.

It wasn’t much, but you were proud when you managed to afford it with your modest salary - and maybe a little help from your parents.

It wasn’t perfect, but it felt like home.

And at least it wasn’t a place where a murder took place. Not like your previous residence.

“What if they’ve already found out we’re on to them?” you asked with gripping anxiety.

“I’m pretty certain they’re expecting us. If they were listening,” Russell said as you three made your way to his car. ”then they know we’re coming.”

“They’re probably counting on it, using it to draw us out. But we don’t really have any other option here.” Colter added.

You rolled your eyes dramatically, unable to resist. “Great, so we’re the mice in their little cat-and-mouse game? That sounds like a fucking blast.” You couldn’t help it. Humor was the next step in your way of coping, even if it felt absolutely forced.

“Look, I know this isn’t easy” Russell said, trying to keep his tone reassuring, but you couldn’t help but give him the silent treatment with your arms crossed tightly across your chest.

“Yup, definitely not easy. Just a walk in the goddamn park” you shot back sarcastically, shooting him a glance that was soaked with your lingering annoyance.

Russell opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it. Instead, he looked ahead. You could tell he was trying to rein in his frustration, but you weren’t ready to make it easy for him. You still felt raw from everything… betrayal and pain, all mixed up with the fear for Emma.

The car ride to the location was tense. You opted for parking it a few blocks away, trying not to draw any unnecessary attention to yourselves. Not like it made any difference. Horizon was already expecting them. Or so you thought, at least.

Colter led the way down the narrow street, and you two followed closely behind. The tension was palpable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was lurking just out of sight. And you hated that most of the time, your gut feeling was absolutely spot-on.

“Why is it always a warehouse?” you muttered, breaking the silence. Colter couldn’t help chuckle silently to himself as he heard you echoing his earlier thoughts. “Isn’t there a law against this? You know, ‘No illegal organizations allowed in abandoned warehouses’?”

After a few moments of tense silence, you finally arrived at the building.

“Okay, time to get serious” Colter said, his demeanor shifting back to focused. “Let’s scout the perimeter first.”

As you approached the entrance of the warehouse, the musty air hit you like a wave. You steeled yourself, feeling the adrenaline spike again. The shadows inside were deep, and you could barely make out the outlines of old crates and scattered debris.

Colter led the way, scanning the dimly lit interior with caution. As you moved deeper into the warehouse, you kept your eyes peeled for anything that might indicate where your daughter could be.

“Let’s split up” Colter suggested, after a few seconds. “We’ll cover more ground that way. Just stay within shouting distance.”

You nodded, but your heart sank. The idea of being alone in this dark, eerie, dusty (and other unsettling adjectives) place made you feel absolutely uneasy. Before you could voice your concerns, Russell stepped in. “No way” he said firmly. “We don’t Scooby-Doo here. I’m not leaving Y/N alone. There’s a reason we brought her with us, Colter.”

Colter raised an eyebrow. “Russell, we need to find Emma quickly. Splitting up is the best way–”

“We’ll go together” Russell interrupted, stepping closer to you and his tone left no room for argument. “I’m not risking Y/N being on her own while we’re in here. If something happens…”

You frowned at Russell. “Really? You think I can’t handle myself? I don’t need you babysitting me.” The truth was, you'd much rather handle this on your own than have him breathing down your neck the entire time.

Russell looked back at you, his expression softening slightly. “It’s not about babysitting. It’s about keeping you safe. I’m not letting you go off alone.”

Colter sighed but nodded, recognizing the tension. “Fine. Just stop arguing, we don’t have the time for this right now.” he hushed the two of you.

And then, you were left alone with Russell.

As you made your way through the maze of crates, the sound of your footsteps echoed eerily in the silence, and every creak of the floor made your heart jump. You felt a mix of gratitude and frustration toward Russell for being so protective, but the tension between you never really faded. It was – ambiguous, to say the least.

“Honestly, Russell, this is ridiculous” you muttered quietly as you walked beside him. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you keeping an eye on me.”

“I know you can take care of yourself” he replied. “But this is different. We’re dealing with serious threats, and I don’t want to risk anything happening to you. Especially since it’s all… my fault.”

You rolled your eyes, but you could hear the genuine guilt in his voice. But you won’t give him an easy time, not yet. “So, what? You’ll just hover over me the entire time? That’s not going to help.”

Russell shrugged, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite the gravity of the situation. “If it keeps you from getting into trouble, then yes. I’m okay with that.”

Just as you were about to fire back with a witty remark, something shiny caught your eye. You stepped closer and brushed off some dust, gasping when you saw it. There, half-hidden under a pile of old boxes, was a Barbie doll. Not just any Barbie –Veterinarian Barbie. Its lab coat was dirty and wrinkled, and her pink stethoscope was missing, but you recognized it instantly. It was Emma's favorite doll.

The one she played with when she was taken.

You would spot this doll anywhere. Emma loved pretending it was curing the plastic cat and dog that came with the set. She often said she wanted to be a vet when she grew up, and it made sense; she adored animals and pets of all kinds. Last Christmas had been especially tough because she asked Santa for a puppy, yet as much as you wanted to get her (and yourself) one, you knew she was too young to handle a dog, and you didn't want to take on that extra responsibility all by yourself.

“Russell, come look at this!” you called as you momentarily forgot how irritated you were with him.

He hurried over, squinting at the doll. “Is it — is it hers?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, picking up the muddy Barbie and holding it up for him to see. “This is Emma’s favorite. She was just playing with it in the yard before… before everything happened.” Your heart sank as you thought about how scared she must be.

“Then we’re on the good trail. This is definitely a message” he said, a grim expression crossing his face. “They want us to know they have her.”

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on you. “But we still don’t know where to start” you said, disappointment surging through you again. “This — this doesn’t tell us where she could be.”

Russell nodded, taking the doll from you. “Let’s go find Colter. Maybe he found something to guide us.”

Just as you turned to make your way back to the house, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps — heavy of tactical boots. The hair on the back of your neck prickled, and you froze, instinctively gripping Russell’s arm. Holy crap. Had he been working out even more? He was certainly ripped four years ago, but it was like gripping into a Schwarzenegger in his Mr. Olympia days.

If the situation weren’t so fucking serious, you knew that cocky bastard would be smirking, relishing the moment.

“Did you hear that?” you whispered, heart pounding like crazy. You were definitely going to need a solid prescription of happy pills after this.

“Yeah” Russell replied with a hushed voice. “Stay close to me.”

Before you could react, two men in black clothing emerged from the shadows, their faces hidden beneath dark masks. They moved easily with practiced military precision, blocking your path to the way out.

“Going somewhere?” one of them asked.

Fuck. This really was a trap.

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Next on Tuesday’s Gone (Sneak Peek from Chapter 4):

You watched with a continuously racing heart as Russell pulled a paperclip from his pocket — of all things — and straightened it. “Can’t believe they missed this little bad boy” he murmured, working it into the lock. His gun and knife hadn’t been as lucky; those were gone in an instant. But the paperclip? Somehow, it had slipped right past their search.

With a quiet click, the lock gave way, and Russell shot you an annoyingly triumphant grin.

You threw the door wide, scooping Emma into your arms as her tiny hands clung to you fiercely. She was trembling. Crying.

“Shh, baby girl” you whispered, holding her close. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Russell looked like he wanted to reach out, maybe even say something, but this wasn’t exactly the time for a heartfelt family reunion. His gaze shot down the hall.

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Right? It’s always a warehouse. Guess villains lack imagination. 🤭But we’re so close now… that long-awaited family reunion is just around the corner!

Read Chapter 4 here

Taglist:

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @winchesterwild78 @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @zepskies @kr804573 @sebastianstangirl01

#russell shaw x reader #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw x you #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #tracker #russell shaw

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waynes-multiverse · 4 months ago

Text

The Exit Strategy – Part 5

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language & implied/light smut, fluff, angst, the darkness of the CIA, death threats, blackmail, mentions of murder & torture, psychological warfare, feels, Dad!Russell

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: We have reached the end of yet another series! Although, as the title of this chapter suggests, this is more of a start than an end 😉

Can't wait to see you all back for the prequel! Big thank you for all your sweet comments throughout this 🥹🩵

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 5: This Is a Start

Half-awake, you inhaled deeply, his scent – earthy notes of pine, oakmoss, and agar wood – clinging to every air molecule that flowed into you and filled your bloodstream till your entire body was made of nothing but him.

You could feel the sunlight on your skin, even though your eyes were closed. But it wasn’t what gave you warmth at that moment. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel his heartbeat against your spine, feel the breaths of his shallow snores brush the shell of your ear and reach down to your neck, and you remembered all the mornings where you’d felt exactly like this.

Calm, safe, loved. Because you were with him.

You’d missed those mornings. And the nights. And the… everything.

You rolled in his arms, and your eyes opened, searching for his face. The freckles on his skin almost glistened golden in the tangerine glow of dawn. You dipped your head and caught his plush lips, kissing him awake.

When his palm snuck to your cheek, covered it fully, and pulled you closer, the kiss turned heated rather quickly when your tongue slipped inside his mouth. His hands gripped you tightly and dragged you on top, your legs straddling him as you felt his hardness between your thighs.

“I forgot you do that,” he said against your lips, pleasantly amused.

“Forgot, huh?” Smirking teasingly, you kissed down the scruffy column of his throat till your lips pressed against his spacious chest. He groaned lowly underneath you, nose nuzzling in the crook of your neck as his hands explored your soft curves.

Russell’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, focusing on the blinking red light in the air vent. He chuckled slightly when your hands keenly moved further south. “Don’t you think we’ve already given them enough of a show?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, laughing, and mischievously rolled your eyes. “What’s one more tape at this point?”

“You’re probably right.” Russell laughed softly and placed several kisses on your crown before dragging you fully into his embrace.

With a blissful sigh, you rested your head on top of his beating heart and closed your eyes for a moment. Why couldn’t the two of you just stay here forever?

But then you felt the springs of the uncomfortable mattress again and groaned. You missed your own bed. You missed your house, your kids, and your husband. You missed your own goddamn wardrobe – your own life.

“God, I can’t wait to get home. Just be with you and the kids,” you murmured against his skin. A smile rose on your lips as you glanced up at him. “I like this retirement plan of yours.”

“Yeah? You think we can swing it? Get out for good?” Russell asked, his conversation with Colter last night running on a loop. You took note of the unsureness in his voice. “I think you might have been right. Maybe I can’t retire just yet until I’ve finished this thing.”

You laughed knowingly. “Colter’s not gonna back down, is he?”

“No, I don’t think he is. Can’t let him do this alone,” Russell sighed, torn between his dreams and his duties.

“Look, wherever you lead, I’ll follow, okay?” you assured him and pressed a loving kiss to his lips, sealing your promise. “But you and me are not separating again. ‘Sides, you guys are gonna need my help. You know my real superpower is a keyboard.”

Russell chuckled, his fingers caressing mindless circles on your spine. “Sure you can leave the field for good? I mean, you’ve had a desk job before. What’s different this time?”

You grinned at him. “I finally found my anchor.”

Russell laughed, the sound vibrating against your ribs. “Well, I hate to drag you down, sweetheart.”

You giggled, placing another kiss to his collarbone. “You’re not. You’re tethering my ship to the ground during storms. I’d like to think there’s a difference.”

“Wow, very poetic for a Radiohead fan,” Russell teased you.

“Hey!” Laughingly, you lightly slapped his chest.

“When did we see them again? 2008? That was a good show…” Russell hummed with a smirk curving his lips. You knew he was thinking less about the band and more about the little fun adventure he had with you in the restrooms of Madison Square Garden.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure it was for you. Your head didn’t bang repeatedly against the flusher,” you retorted, causing Russell to laugh so deeply that tears stung his eyes. As his laughs rippled out, your gaze wandered to the clock – 6:24 AM. “Colters gonna be here soon.”

“Almost forgot how much I haven’t missed this…” Russell groaned exhaustively in response, causing you to quirk a brow in amusement.

“Excuse me?”

“No, not you. Not this,” he quickly assured you, chuckling. He kissed you deeply and rolled on top of you, his large and strong body covering yours entirely, muscular arms caging you in on both sides. You giggled underneath him, your fingers tracing his tattoo on his bicep as you gazed up at him. “But you do realize I have to get dressed, sneak outta the house, only to ring the doorbell on said house a second later.”

Your lips rose to a broad and teasing grin. “Yeah, isn’t it fun?”

Russell laughed and kissed you again. “I don’t know why I bother. Are you guys even being watched?”

“Probably not,” you admitted. The congressman wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and was clueless beyond belief. His associates seemed to be none the wiser as well, although they were being naturally careful. “But we still have neighbors, though.”

If your enemies were careful, so were you.

Russell scoffed casually. “Operation’s almost over, anyways. Let ‘em think the Christian housewife is knocking boots with some hot, rugged plumber or somethin’…” He mumbled the last words into the slope of your neck, his hands keenly trailing down your frame.

“Or somethin’,” you repeated and giggled as his beard tickled your skin. He interlaced his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head. “You know, my pipes aren’t broken.”

He chuckled between your tits, a deep hum against your ribcage. “No, they’re definitely not, sweetheart.” He pecked your collarbone and glanced up at you with a grin as your fingers carded through his long hair – you supposed you could get used to it. “But, uhm–,” he bit his lip, grin widening underneath it, “–they’re about to be damn clogged. Hold on!”

You squealed and laughed as he disappeared underneath the covers.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen, mingling with the sizzling sounds of bacon on the stove that Russell was preparing. He watched you and his brother from the corner of his eye, Manny and Tom discussing strategies as they crouched over their laptops on the island.

His old friend had shown up shortly after the Shaws had arrived. Russell had met his younger brother in the driveway with the broadest grin, to which Colter only quipped he didn’t look like he’d slept a lot – and he hadn’t. Three years was a long fucking time…

His grin widened again as he thought about it before he felt the nudge in his ribs from your elbow.

“Upstairs brain, Russell,” you reminded him with a playfully scolding tone and hid your own saucy grin behind your coffee mug.

Twenty years, and Russell still had no fucking clue how you always knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Best we go in tonight,” Manny said in his blue overalls that read Jesus on the name tag on his right chest. He’d shown up this morning disguised as a plumber, a wide, pearly-white grin on his face when he stood on the porch and said to you, “Heard there’s some clogged pipes in this house, ma’am?”

While you had almost killed him with a single look, Russell had chuckled under his breath and appreciated the joke. The guy only had an hour to get the appropriate outfit – that took some goddamn dedication.

“We’re just gonna knock on his door?” Colter questioned with an arched brow. There was amusement in his voice. He was waiting to hear the real plan.

You set your mug down on the counter and looked up at him, feeling Russell watching from his periphery. He’d told you to sugarcoat as much as possible, well aware that your approach was usually a little more direct.

Russell always carefully eased people into the frigid water, while you… well, you pushed them. Hard.

“Let me ask you this, how morally ambiguous are you?” you asked, earning you a somewhat chiding look from your husband.

“Uhm, some,” Colter replied with a cock of his head and didn’t seem fazed by the question. “Are we breaking in?”

“Yup,” you replied simply. “His wife is staying with her mother in North Carolina for two weeks. He’ll be home around eight. We’re gonna wait for him in his study. I need you and Russ to occupy his security detail. It’s just two guys, former law enforcement. You should be fine. Manny and I are gonna help, but we need you to stay with them and keep an eye out at the entry points for other surprises.”

“Alright.” Colter gave you a nod. “So, what end result are you aiming for here? I’m guessing you guys aren’t arresting him.”

Clever, you thought. Like his older brother, Colter had a gift of reading between the lines.

“The goal is to recruit him as a double agent and get him to turn on his associates, so we’re gonna show him a few things and hope he comes to the right decision,” you said and took a sip of your coffee. Fucking sugarcoating…

“You’re gonna blackmail him,” Colter deduced but still didn’t seem shocked to his core.

You really should stop judging Shaws by their pretty covers…

“Yes.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

Musingly, you pursed your lips, feeling Russell’s eyes narrowing at you. The pause wasn’t caused by a lack of answers, however, but by contemplating how you could possibly package the term torture and kill with a nice bow and wrapping paper.

“Do the words ‘extraordinary rendition’ mean anything to you?” you asked and instantly heard Russell tossing the spatula aside to throw you a full look this time.

“That’s what you call goddamn sugarcoating?” Russell cocked a brow at you.

You offered him a shrug. “Literally no good way of saying that, Russ.”

Colter chuckled. “You guys don’t have to sugarcoat on my behalf. My sympathy for the guy is pretty low.”

“That’s what I said!” you pointed out, sharing a look with Russell.

“Just out of curiosity, though, how exactly do you plan to-…” Colter tried to find the right words. “I mean, he’s a congressman.”

“Ah.” You knew what he was getting at – a public figure would probably be missed. But another glance at your husband made you think twice and poke the insides of your cheeks before answering that one honestly. “How about you guys just focus on the guards and let us worry about the rest?”

Russell seemed pleased with your answer for once, although you could tell Colter was itching to prod further. However, he decided to change tune instead.

“So, what was Russell like when you met him?” Colter asked, a both curious and teasing smile grazing his face.

“I don’t think we need to talk about that,” Russell tried to deflect with an awkward chuckle.

“Ah, well… weird,” you replied tongue-in-cheek.

“Thank you?” Russell furrowed his brow at you, but you could tell he found your answer rather amusing and agreed with that assessment.

“Little nervous,” you added playfully.

“You made me nervous,” Russell emphasized and muttered into his coffee, “Not like we met in a traditional setting…”

You snorted a laugh. “I used to call him Ducky because he kept following me around everywhere.”

Colter tried his hardest to stifle his laugh upon Russell’s glare.

“Oh, he was so cute,” Manny chimed in with his signature grin. “Shoulda seen him when he walked into that safe house on that first day, man. With his little babyface and heart eyes.”

Exasperatedly, Russell threw his arms up and looked at his little brother intently. “Alright, don’t listen to them. None of that is true. You know they lie professionally, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re lying, Russ,” Colter deadpanned.

Manny and Tom then excused themselves to the basement, leaving you alone with the two Shaw brothers.

“So, what exactly made Russell weird in your eyes?” Colter leaned forward on the counter, an amused smile tugging at his lips, unbothered by the deepening of his brother’s frown.

“I don’t think we need to get into that…”

“Well…” you mused, ignoring your husband’s protests, too. “It was just little things, honestly. He was a bit, uhm…”

“Reclusive?” Colter offered.

You tilted your head in surprise. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. How did you know?”

“Don’t,” Russell warned as soon as Colter started to part his lips.

“Do,” you encouraged, much to Russell’s chagrin.

“Well, uh, that was our dad’s nickname for him,” Colter replied with a bit of hesitance.

“Huh,” you uttered, sipping on your drink. “Never heard that story before…”

“Alright, are you two done with your little bonding session on my account?” Russell threw both of you a pointed look.

You and Colter raised your hands in surrender, announcing your capitulation.

“For now,” you said, smiling mischievously.

The mansion loomed a few yards away, the sun hurrying behind the suburbs of Washington DC as your team stood in position in the perfectly manicured garden of the estate, hiding among hedges and bushes.

Your eyes scanned the doorways and windows before you heard the soft hiss of your crackling ear piece. “All clear. Eyes on tango. ETA seven mikes.”

“Copy that,” you said and motioned to your team, giving the signal to move toward the house.

You and the guys slipped like shadows to a side entrance, already spying one of the guards. Manny was the first to engage, delivering a strike to the guy’s neck before he dropped silently to the ground. It was always good to have a Marine on your team.

Russell then took out the second guard, zip-tying his hands behind his back before the older Shaw moved the body to the other unconscious guard with Colter’s help.

“Alright, you two stay down here while me and Manny wait for Mueller upstairs in his study,” you said to the brothers before watching Russell exchange a look with the other operative.

“Lemme go with you,” Russell said, but his tone and expression suggested it wasn’t a proposal. He’d go with you, no room for a discussion.

You threw Manny a raised look, but he only held up his palms. “Not getting between this,” he said with a small chuckle.

You blew out a sigh between your lips and gestured wordlessly for your husband to follow you inside.

“You don’t have to do this, you know?” you reminded him.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart. But I want to.” Russell grinned slyly. “‘Sides, it’s been a while for you.”

He was right. You’d been hiding behind a screen for the better part of six years. You’d done smaller interrogations in the safety of a CIA building, but not something like this – something that forced you to use the more brutal tools of your skill set.

Your faith in an institution you once had heavily believed in was already dwindling before you’d become a mother. Each new mission would make you doubt and question the controversial means to a prophesied end of terror more and more.

You had always followed orders and done as you were told, even when you would quietly disagree. Well, sometimes you had disagreed quite loudly – but you had always believed collateral damage was just a necessary sacrifice for the greater good.

Duty, honor, and country.

But did you really ever make a difference?

And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

Funny sometimes how the CIA harped on unveiling the truth but kept more secrets themselves than a magician’s hat.

When did you become part of the problem?

Russell looked at you as if he knew what you were thinking – he probably did. He always did. No matter what lurked in the dark, he had your back, whether it was to protect you or to ground you when all of it came crashing down.

Maybe you should’ve dipped out with Russell years ago when you still had a chance to do something else with your life. When you’d first started dating. When you’d had a massive fight on that first Thanksgiving, which turned to love confessions before the night had ended.

You should’ve asked him to get out with you, then. Figure out your new life together. Instead, you’d asked him to come to Pakistan with you, he’d said yes, even though you’d seen the hesitance in his eyes, and you’d spent the next six years in the Middle East together.

You’d almost gotten out again when the two of you got married. You’d settled on the outskirts of Vegas, rented a nice house, and worked a somewhat steady job at Homey Airport north of the city. Russell worked as a security guard there, and you helped with research for… stuff.

You both would agree that it had been your first real home together. There was routine and familiarity and quietness and expectancy in a good way.

And then, just like now, carrot.

You were pulled back in, and Russell followed like your canary in a mine shaft. It was a never-ending circle you couldn’t seem to escape from.

Back then, you’d been scared of the future. You’d only known him for two months and the two of you had already been through hell together before you realized you loved him. But you didn’t want to toss aside all your beliefs and ambitions for him. Now, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

Wherever you lead, I’ll follow…

For tonight, though, Russell still followed you – up the stairs and into a naughty congressman’s study.

Russell lurked against the wall behind the door; you sat comfortably on the big leather couch in front of the fireplace and had poured yourself a whiskey. You emptied it by the time a car’s headlights flashed across the wood-paneled walls as it veered into the garage.

“You look very hot in that tactical gear, by the way,” you teased Russell, who only punished you with a scolding look. But you could tell by the slight grind of his teeth and the deepening crinkles around his green eyes that it certainly had the desired effect on him. He’d probably do you on this couch right now if it hadn’t broken his concentration.

Not long after, the office door swung wide open, flooding light from the hallway into the dark study. Mueller flipped on the sideboard lampshade in the room, his eyes still studying a stack of letters in his hands before his gaze lifted and found you.

His head tilted to the side, brows firmly creasing above the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowing. “Mrs… Laurier?”

Different hair, different eyes, full tactical gear – you didn’t blame the man for doing a double-take.

“Okay, let’s cut the bullshit,” you said as you rose from your seat and sauntered to the bar, pouring him a glass of whiskey. “I know about your friends. I know what you’ve been doing.”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, Mrs. Laurier, but I’d like to ask you to leave my house right now.”

You snorted a laugh at his denial. “No.”

“No one’s leaving, buddy,” Russell said and gently pushed the door shut behind the man.

Mueller startled when he realized there was another person in the room besides you, his eyes warily assessing your husband’s tall and broad stature. “Who is this?”

“None of your concern if you sit down and have a chat with me, Congressman,” you said nonchalantly and motioned to the matching couch opposite you.

With a swallow and a glance over his shoulder at Russell, Mueller reluctantly took a seat and downed the whiskey in front of him.

“Refill?” Russell offered kindly, to which the older man only nodded before your husband gave him a rough pat on the shoulder as he strolled to the bar.

“I’m a congressman. You can’t do this to me! There will be dire consequences for you both and whoever else is involved in this,” he threatened with a losing hand.

“Oh, I know you’re a congressman, but who am I?” you asked and leaned forward with a scrutinizing look.

His eyes averted to the carpeted floor for a moment before he swallowed. “You’re CIA,” he realized.

“Good job! Got the first one right,” you taunted with a smile. You sounded like fucking Ms. Rachel whenever your kids got a color right. “And do you have an inkling why we might be here?”

He swallowed thickly once more, nodding. “I do.”

“Very good, buddy,” you praised. “See? This is easy, right? No need to be nervous. We just wanna know some things about your friends and were wondering if you could help us.”

He thought for a moment, letting his head hang before he met your eyes. “I’m not saying anything without my lawyer.”

“Wrong answer. You’re not under arrest,” you said, your mask of the friendly Christian housewife fully falling now. “You think I give a shit about the Department of Justice? They’re concerned with overcrowding prisons with criminals. The CIA’s job is to neutralize threats to national security. What are you right now, Mr. Mueller?”

Judging by the slight twitch of his face, he seemed to know exactly which one he was. “You can’t kill me! You’re operating on US soil!”

“Oh, we can always arrange a plane,” you said casually and got up from your seat once more. This time, you ambled to the massive oak desk and rummaged through the second, left-side drawer. “How do like Eastern Europe this time of year? Ever been?”

“You know, most people don’t know this, but Bulgaria has some really nice beaches along the Black Sea. I mean, not that you’re ever gonna see any of them, but we could go,” Russell played along, shooting you a cheeky smile before his attention returned to Mueller. “So, what d’you prefer? Handcuffs or zip-ties? You know what? I’m gonna go with the zip-ties. Still might need the cuffs for later.”

He shot you a wink. You chided him with a raised brow.

“I’m a congressman, for crying out loud! Don’t you think people are gonna notice when I disappear?” Mueller protested, shaking in his seat with a fuming red head.

No wonder the guy had a heart problem.

“Ha! Found it!” You emerged victoriously with a rattling pill bottle. “Eight o’clock. Time for your heart medication, right? How about we do two for two? Two pills for two wrong answers?” As you sat down again, you were studying the fine print on the label. “Huh. Not more than 3 in 24 hours,” you mumbled the inscription and gave the graying man a shrug. “Should be fine then. Take them.”

Russell subtly adjusted his shoulder strap, causing the M4 he had slung around to rattle before he took out his butterfly knife and began to play with it like he was bored. Mueller watched him with unease in his eyes and tension in his shoulders before he stared you down with a glare, defiantly popping both pills into his mouth and pouring them down with more whiskey.

“You’re right. We can’t put a bullet in you, but obviously, there are other, more natural ways,” you said and shook the orange bottle in your grasp once more. “Probably could even make it look like a suicide. Especially after you feared your poor wife would leave you when she found out you were fucking your secretary for months. Very original, by the way,” you said smugly. “But that would surely flush your political career down the shitter.”

“Yeah, no offense, but you’re no Clinton, buddy. Can’t pull it off,” Russell quipped.

“What do you want?” Mueller finally asked through gritted teeth. His voice was calmer, but his brow was still densely folded.

You were close to breaking him – you could feel it with your spidey senses.

“We need you to keep doing exactly what you’re doing, but with a little… extra homework,” you explained and gifted him a small smile. “Instead of going back to your cozy mansion after every meeting with your friends, you will meet with one of us afterward and tell us everything. And I do mean everything. Who they are, where they are, what they’re planning and when. If one of them takes a shit and you see it, you better fucking tell us. Understood?”

“Are you insane?” the man gasped in upset, eyes wide in horror. And then, his political façade finally crumbled, too. “If they find out I’m working with the fucking CIA, they’re gonna fucking kill me! You’re sending me like a pig to a goddamn slaughterhouse!”

You pursed your lips, shrugging your shoulders. “Yeah…”

“What she means is, we don’t really care ‘cause you wanted to blow up little kids,” Russell clarified and stared daggers at the cowering man from above.

“Yeah.” You grinned almost sadistically at the congressman. “We’re also gonna bug you every time, so really, you’re more like a stuffed Christmas goose.”

“It wasn’t even my idea,” Mueller argued, and you would’ve almost snorted if you hadn’t been so angry at his lie.

“Oh, that is a big one,” you said and pulled out your phone, playing a recording for him.

“Yeah, I made a deal with them, but it was my idea in the first place to target the mall. If they want all the files and blueprints, they better be prepared to pay me more…”

“Do I need to play more?” you asked with an arched brow, receiving a meek shake of the congressman’s head in return. He looked like a lectured school boy in front of you. “How about two more pills for that fucking lie, huh?”

You shook two more out of the bottle and into your palm, offering them to him. He took them wordlessly, but the boiling look in his eyes was surely plotting to kill you.

“By the way, your secretary is one of ours,” you noted provocatively. “Probably should look for a new one. I’m guessing she’s gonna hand in her resignation by tomorrow.”

Russell quirked a brow at that, although he should’ve figured you had more players in the game. Mueller, on the other hand, was quietly simmering in his seat, fists clenching with a crack of knuckles.

“Were you seriously trying to blackmail more money out of terrorist organization?” Russell cocked a brow at the man. “How stupid are you? You know they would’ve just killed you after and taken the money back, right?”

“It’s what I would’ve done,” you agreed without a drop of sympathy. “And they’re also gonna kill you when your career as a congressman goes south. You think they’ll just keep you alive with all that knowledge and no use?”

“Sounds to me like you don’t have a lot of choices,” Russell pointed out.

“But look, if you work with us, we’ll make it worth your while,” you said and hated saying it. You didn’t want to pay that asshole a single dollar, much less a few million. “You keep working with them, and they’ll kill you. If we out your little extra-marital secret, your career ends, and they’ll kill you. And yeah, if you work with us and they find out, they’ll kill you, too. But at least your wife won’t be homeless, poor, and utterly destroyed by what you did. Be a good husband and serve your fucking country. And maybe, by some goddamn miraculous stroke of luck, you’ll even survive this and crawl out of the hole you dug – unscathed.”

Mueller’s eyes darted from you to Russell, his demeanor shifting between fury and fear. He ground his jaw, surely trying to think of an exit strategy. His throat tightened, sweat gathering along his salt and pepper hairline before it ran down the back of his neck. He struggled to swallow the bitter truth you were offering him.

Well, it might have been the four heart pills, too.

Russell shifted, the glint in his eyes sharp and calculating. “You think you can still play the game, huh? Get out of this? Newsflash, Congressman – you’re already too deep. Take the deal.”

“You want two more pills to help you make a decision?” you offered and tilted your head with a cold smile.

“Jesus Christ, you two are sick,” Mueller muttered, the words thick with venom, but there was no real strength behind them.

“No, just doing our jobs,” you said, your voice low and steady, even when his words hit you like a Mack truck. “And you should do yours.”

Russell placed the pill bottle back on the desk with a soft click, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Shoulda made a different choice, buddy. This life? It doesn’t end well for guys like you. Trust me.”

The congressman’s lips trembled before he set them into a thin, defeated line, the cost of his decisions weighing on him. He finished his whiskey, setting the tumbler down, and fixed his tie with the last flickers of arrogance.

“You think you’re heroes? You’re just as dirty as the people you hunt,” he spat.

“Maybe,” you replied honestly, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the creaking leather. “But we’re holding all the cards.”

“I want three hundred million and whatever evidence you have of my affair. Pictures, tapes, everything,” Mueller formed his conditions.

You clicked your tongue and leaned forward, looking into his pathetic eyes. “No,” you said bluntly. “You get twenty, which we’ll leave in Clara’s name, we keep everything we have, and you shut the fuck up.”

“Not a big poker player, are ya?” Russell mocked the man with an arch of his eyebrow, shaking his head at the stupidity.

Mueller’s chest heaved, nostrils flaring. A guy like him hated losing more than anything. “Fine. You have a deal, alright? Can you get the fuck out of my house now?”

“Gladly,” you said and rose, joining Russell’s side. “Stay in touch, or we’ll come back.”

“Next visit will be even less friendly,” Russell warned sternly.

The door slammed harshly shut behind you two, rattling the whole house in its core. Then silence engulfed you as you descended the stairs, Russell’s footsteps echoing in sync with yours as the weight of your choices settled on your shoulders.

Russell kept his hand on the small of your back as he led you through the house, the occasional flicker of tension running through his jawline. “Good idea about leaving the money for the wife. Didn’t wanna pay that douche a dime.”

You smiled inwardly. “Yeah, me neither…”

Russell nodded his head pensively. “Got a tight leash on him now, but I’d be careful. The guy’s scared… and pissed. He ain’t gonna roll over easy.”

“Well, doesn’t have much of a choice, does he? It’s either that or… well, we both know the other option,” you replied.

Russell gave a small grunt of agreement. “Yeah, well, he might get cold feet. Tell your team to keep their guard up.” His eyes flicked to you for a brief moment, that familiar, concerned look in his gaze. “You okay, sweetheart? You know the asshole was just lashing out. He wasn’t right about us.”

You scoffed quietly under your breath and met his green eyes. “Wasn’t he, though?”

You were tired. Physically and mentally. Tired of the games, tired of the constant shifting between light and shadow, good and evil.

Russell grabbed a hold of your hand, pulling you to a stop. He sent you a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear that had escaped the tight ponytail. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? Talk to me.”

As you gazed up at him, the walls cracked a little, starting to come down for the first time since the start of the mission. You released a slow breath. “This constant war. It never ends. It just… drags you back in, over and over. And for what? So we can keep pretending we’re the good guys? All this lying, manipulating, and hurting people for a cause we don’t even understand anymore. We were supposed to be better than this.”

Russell sighed, scratching his jaw. “Sweetheart, you know we didn’t exactly sign up to be saints. The world isn’t black and white. I mean, hell, you’re the one who told me that twenty years ago.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong,” you muttered bitterly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t think you were,” Russell said, an arm around your shoulder pulling you to his frame.

“I used to believe I was making a difference. That we were doing something important, that we were saving lives. But maybe I’m just another cog in the machine, and the machine doesn’t care who it runs over,” you said, the lump in your throat growing.

Something cracked open inside you, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself feel the truth of what you and Russell had been through. The toll it had taken on both of you. The sacrifices. The scars.

Russell’s lips pursed, not answering right away. Instead, he squeezed you a little tighter in his embrace and pecked the top of your head. “Well, you always made a difference to me,” he replied and offered you a warm smile. “Small wins, baby. We’re not stopping wars, but we’re still saving people. How many frequent that mall in December, huh?”

“About 200,000 a day,” you replied and knew where he was going with this.

“See? That’s not even a small win. That’s a big win, sweetheart,” Russell said almost exuberantly, trying to get you out of that dark corner in your mind.

“They don’t even know about it.”

“Yeah, so? We know this is an ugly, ungrateful job. Kinda like parenting,” Russell retorted. You narrowed your eyes a little at him, amusement poking your dimples. “‘Sides, everyone goes home and can sleep in their beds safe and sound, none the wiser. Isn’t there beauty in that?”

“Look at you, getting philosophical in your old age,” you teased. But you gave him a few nods of your head. “One step at a time?”

“One step at a time,” Russell agreed, intertwining his fingers with yours and kissing the back of your hand as he brought them to his lips.

“Everything go alright?” Colter’s voice broke the quiet as you walked through the side entrance and reached the garden.

“Yup, folded like an old lawn chair,” Russell replied.

Colter gave a satisfied nod. “Good.”

“Everything go okay down here?” you asked, lifting a brow. By Manny’s expression you could tell he had fun with the younger Shaw.

“Everything went fine, chiquitita.” Manny sent you a pearly-white grin.

“Yeah, while we waited, Manny told me some crazy stories about you guys. Learned a lot,” Colter quipped with a sly smile.

“Oh God…” Russell huffed exhaustively, rolling his eyes back. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

He tugged you closer under his arm, the four of you strolling down the lawn and back to the van.

“What about Pastor Jeff?” Colter then asked, glancing at his brother.

Russell nodded, his hand instinctively diving into his pocket and fumbling with the handful of heart pills inside. “Don’t you worry about that. Already figured something out…”

The overgrown front yard of the blue suburban home was bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, Russell already noting down his first chore – getting the lawn mower out. His fingers fidgeted nervously in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his heels.

You’d taken the first flight out to Philadelphia this morning to pick up the kids. They’d spent the summer with their aunt and uncle on a farm there and apparently had a blast.

And, well, Russell’s heart had been hammering nonstop since he’d dropped you off at the airport. He racked his brain for hours but still didn’t know what to expect. His nerves jittered at the mere thought of seeing them, blood bubbling through skin with a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty.

A new adventure. A fresh start.

A soft breeze stirred the leaves of the oak tree at the corner of the yard. And then, your car came into view and stopped a few houses down. A small kid jumped eagerly out the backseat, then stopped with a heavy sigh in the driveway of a neighbor’s house as you yelled something through the open passenger’s side window.

Russell watched the scene with smile till the heaviness settled back into his chest. His breath halted, thundering heartbeat filling his ears. His son had gotten so… big. The guilt came crashing back like a hurricane.

You parked the car in the driveway by your house then, fighting a second with your daughter’s seatbelt. As you sat her down, her big, googly eyes already spied the stranger in her yard.

Russell kept his distance – or he was frozen in shock. You weren’t quite sure.

Clutching your pointer finger, Amelia eagerly dragged you a few steps through the long grass that was blooming with a rainbow of wildflowers. She halted a foot short of her father, a man she had never known or seen before. Her hand then let go of your finger and held onto your leg instead, halfway hiding behind it with a shy smile. In quiet curiosity, she tilted her head and swayed from side to side, a small finger tucked into her mouth as she studied the man in front of her.

Russell crouched down to meet her gaze, trying to keep his emotions in check. She was only two – so small. He didn’t want to overwhelm her or scare her or freak her out by being the weird, strange man who sobbed in her front yard.

“Hey, Amelia–,” you knelt down with them, pointing a finger at Russell, “That’s your daddy. Wanna say hi?”

She grinned toothily and nodded, raising her hand quickly once before dropping it back down. “Hi!”

“Hi there, ace,” Russell said, smiling and swallowed the gigantic fucking lump in his throat. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

“Ace?” You quirked a brow in amusement. “Russ, she’s two, not shooting down enemy aircraft.”

“I like it,” he retorted with a playful smirk and then talked straight to his child, “Who says you can’t be an Air Force captain, huh?”

She giggled with full dimples. “Tha’s cute.”

“And here I was worried Lewis was gonna be like us,” you joked.

“Lewis? Nah.” Jesting, Russell shook his head with a doubtfully creased brow and looked back at Amelia. “Your brother’s gonna be a doctor, right? ‘Cause we finally need a medic in this family, especially with future Ms. General of the Air Force here. Isn’t that right? Earhart’s got nothing on you, ace.”

“You silly,” your daughter uttered your exact thoughts, giggling. “You play?”

“Oh, I’d love to. What do you wanna play with me?” Russell agreed happily, his eyes shimmering brightly green in the sunlight, the crinkles around them more prominent due to his wide smile. Your heart might as well have exploded from its sheer swelling in your ribcage.

Your daughter contemplated for a moment, pursing her lips. “I make cake!” she announced and then kept babbling incoherently in Amelia language.

“Oh, wow, you’re going to bake me a cake? Well, you certainly haven’t gotten that from your mother,” Russell quipped and grinned slyly at you.

“Watch it. Thin ice, Shaw,” you playfully warned him.

“You come?” Amelia looked expectantly up at her father. After airports, planes, and car rides, she was eager to move her little feet.

“Where am I going with her?” Russell blinked at you, and you managed to stifle your amusement at his helplessness.

“Sand box, backyard,” you said, smiling as the two-year-old already tugged him along by his hand.

“Mom! Mom! Have you seen my baseball glove?” Lewis’s voice suddenly pulled you from your momentary trance.

Swiftly, you spun around and saw he was close – too close. He stopped in his tracks as he reached the edge of the lawn. His little brow furrowed, green eyes narrowing at his tiny sister with a stranger at the backyard gate.

But you could tell he recognized his father from the picture on his nightstand, even with the longer hair and beard. His eyes locked on Russell’s face in an instant.

Carefully, you approached him. “Lewis, you okay?”

He nodded slowly but was clearly unsure. Russell was paralyzed for a split second. And then, before anyone could stop him, your son bolted to his father, arms flung wide.

“Dad!”

Russell fell to his knees and opened his arms as his son launched himself into his embrace. He was crying, clutching his father’s neck with all the strength his little frame could muster.

“Hey, trailblazer,” Russell said softly. His chest tightened, his arms wrapping around Lewis as if holding on to everything he had missed. He buried his face in his son’s hair, the scent of him bringing back a flood of memories he’d tried so hard to push away.

“I’ve missed you, Daddy,” his son whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“It’s okay. I’m home now, buddy,” Russell said with a smile, comfortingly patting his son’s head.

After they held onto each other for a long moment, Lewis then slowly let go of his father and glanced up at you.

“Is that why you were gone? To get Dad back?”

“Uhm…” Not exactly, you thought, but Russell answered before you could.

“Yeah, your mom thought she’d surprise you,” your husband said, smiling widely. “Is it a good surprise or a bad surprise?”

“Good.” Lewis grinned broadly, but then a little drop of doubt entered his mind. “Are you staying?”

“Oh, there’s nothing that can tear me away again from you, trailblazer,” Russell assured the little boy. "I promise, okay?"

“You wanna play catch with me?” Lewis asked him then, and you could tell Russell had never heard better words in his life, including your ‘I do.’

“Let’s do it!” Russell agreed and opened the gate, letting both kids pour into the backyard.

“Glove is in the garage!” you called after them and watched them storm through the yard.

You then noticed a shadow shift in your periphery and glanced at the porch where Colter stood with a smile and a cup of coffee in his hands. Apparently, he had quietly observed the whole scene but refrained from interfering, letting his older brother have his moment with his kids.

Russell was finally back where he belonged.

“Well, I-, uh, I’m gonna head out soon,” Colter said once your eyes met.

You figured he would say something like that. Russell and you had both been surprised he even took you up on your offer to stay one night at the house.

“You're coming back, though, right?” Amused, you arched a brow at the younger Shaw.

His head bobbed with a twitch of his shoulders. “Yeah, sure.”

“Once a month.”

“Well, uh–“

“I’m not asking, Colter. I’m telling,” you said, deadpanning. “You know, I made a digital copy of your phone. You have a lot of female contacts in there…”

Colter’s lips pursed as he blinked at you sideways, half-amused. He quirked a brow. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Absolutely,” you confirmed and hid your grin behind tight lips.

“Alright, got yourself a deal, sis.” Colter nodded with a caving smile. “So, uhm, there was still something I wanted to ask you…”

Knowingly, you looked up at him. “About your father?”

Russell had already warned you about an approach, knowing his little brother wouldn’t listen to him.

Colter smacked his lips, brows shooting up. “Wow, you are good…”

“Check your glove compartment. Already left a folder there,” you said and smugly folded your arms over your chest. "And yes, I did break into your car."

“Huh.” Colter scratched the nape of his neck. “Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Consider it a gift from your spook sister-in-law.” You smirked.

If the folder contained the truth, however, Colter would have to discover on his own. Russell might have gone through it with a black marker…

“So, you and Russ are out now? You’re gonna live here?”

“Uh, we’ll see…” You inhaled and exhaled a contemplative breath, your eyes fixed on the quiet, suburban street. Husbands mowed lawns, kids played ball and sold lemonade. “We’ve been talking about moving back to Nevada, maybe. God knows your brother’s been dreaming about a hot tub under the desert sky for ages...” You giggled, shaking your head.

“So, not quite an exit but a start,” Colter concluded.

Smiling softly, you let out a gratified sigh. “Yeah, it’s a start."

The End (for now) ➡️ PREQUEL – Coming Soon!

We've reached the end, but I do plan to pick this up at some point again (in sequel form). Just wanna let the show progress a little with the family drama before I dive back in 😉

Thank you to everyone who has read this story and shared their wonderful thoughts with me! Your feedback is so appreciated!!! Announcement for the prequel will follow soon 🩵

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#the exit strategy #finale #russell shaw #russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw fanfiction #tracker fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #colter shaw #justin hartley #tracker cbs

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alessiathepirate · 2 years ago

Text

The Fate of the Furious

ALIVE: Deckard Shaw x fem!reader

Summary: She thought Deckard Shaw died - yet luckily he didn't. After joining the crew on the rooftop, he had some explaining to do.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

A quiet thank you for my friend who watched these movies with me during a movie night. I love you <3

Warnings: swearing, mentioned violence and death

•••

"Oh, this will be good." Roman said to Tej as he poked - or rather punched - his arm. Both of them looked at the scenario in front of them, suddenly forgetting about their bickering over Ramsey.

Perhaps if things went differently, they'd stop arguing to quietly laugh at Shaw carrying a baby - only silently, because they perefer living over dying. Shaw with a baby was something they couldn't imagine at all, yet the thing Roman pointed out wasn't the baby. No, it was Shaw himself, who clearly overestimated his self-worth if he showed up there after the stunt he pulled.

And just in time, the girl whose feelings were very obviously hurt because of the said stunt noticed Shaw's arrival - and she looked like she's seen a ghost.

"No way, man. I really don't want to see this." Tej answered unsurely, leaning back in his seat.

"You won't want to miss it either. She'll kick his ass, that's for sure." In no other scenario would Roman dare to say that - the guy might have super hearing or something.

And just like that, the show started.

"You dick!" the shouting was so loud everyone's gaze was on her, but then - after understanding the situation - they decided to look away, not wanting to become a target of her wrath. "You absolute fucking asshole!"

"Come on, sweetheart, don't curse in front of the-"

"Don't you act like you suddenly give a shit about someone!"

"Oh, he fucked up!" Roman laughed in his seat.

"He fucked up big time." Tej agreed, and it was very rare that they did.

"No way I'd be him right now..."

Her expression was a mixture of anger and hurt, and she very clearly didn't want anyone else there to intervene - no man would dare to either way and they wouldn't succeed in doing so without getting a punch to the face.

But Letty, understanding her feelings because she was the only one she had talked to about them, did her best to diffuse the situation - in front of the child at least.

"I'll take him, don't you worry." she took the infant seat from Shaw, who had the expression of betrayal on his face.

"Thanks for your help, now why don't you go and talk this out?" if Dom's voice was anything to go by, he secretly very much enjoyed seeing Shaw's face as his son, the safety blanket he could hide behind was taken from him.

"Yeah, why don't we go and talk this out, Shaw?"

Ramsey gasped behind them and Dom patted Shaw on the back, sending him the luck he'll need. Roman poked Tej on the arm again, Hobbs chuckled from not so far away.

Deckard Shaw must have fucked up big time - he himself knew that too. It's been months since she called him Shaw. He was never Shaw, only Deckard or maybe if he was lucky enough, Deck. But he was never ever Shaw.

"All right, let's talk this out, sweetheart."

She hugged herself with her arms, not giving him the opportunity to hold onto her hand. Deckard didn't try to do so though, he understood where the line was and he didn't want to overstep it.

They walked to the other side of the roof, away from their gazes and voices, and only then did her eyes start to water.

Deckard wasn't good at apologies, but even he knew that's the time for one. She's hurt and rightfully so, but he didn't mean to hurt her at all. God, he'd go to Hell and back for her and he knew she'd do the same - they knew more than a few things about the other and they liked the other even if they don't like many people.

But now she's sad and hurt - and angry, because of Deckard and he didn't know what he should do to make it better.

"Sweetheart, I-"

"No, don't you fucking sweetheart me." Sweetheart was the petname Deckard saved for her and didn't use it on anybody else. "I thought you died, do you know how that feels? I thought you fucking died!" she grabbed onto the railing to try and regain her strength. "Do you know that I cried for you? I fucking cried for you. I almost went after Dom by myself to hurt him like he hurt me and Dom is my friend!"

He put his hand on her shoulder and she let him, but she didn't look at him at all.

"And then you just call me to tell me everything is okay, I- I don't know what hurt more: that you didn't tell me or that you don't trust me enough to tell me stuff like that."

"I trust you. I trust you and I don't trust anybody else." Deckard touched both of her shoulders to turn her towards him.

He expected her to be angry or sad, he even expected a punch to the face, like when she playfully hit him after a way too bad one liner on a mission. But she didn't do any of that.

No, she was crying. And if Deckard was bad at apologies, then he was even worse at comforting crying women - especially someone he genuinely cares about.

"Why didn't you tell me not to worry?" her voice was high pitched, the kind Deckard hadn't heard before. She never cried. He hadn't seen her cry.

He made her cry.

"Because I needed her to believe it."

It was a poor excuse. He knew it - she knew it.

Yet it was still better than not saying anything or him just saying a 'fuck you'.

"So you're okay? Not even a small cut?" she asked looking at his face, trying to find some scars.

"You know me, sweetheart." he smiled and she was the only one who has ever seen him smile. "And I know you too, so if you'll punch me please tell me so I can get ready."

She chuckled. "Because?"

"Because your punches are really fucking strong."

That was the kind of compliment Deckard Shaw gave her, the kind only she recieved and no one else. And she smiled at that too, even if her eyes were still teary and the pain and fear didn't fully go away.

"I don't want to punch you."

"Really?" he had a suspicion that she really wanted to.

"Really. I just got you back and you want me to hurt you straight away?"

"I'd let you and I'd deserve it too."

He really meant that, she thought as she examined his face, trying to find some dishonesty. She couldn't find any - but to her surprise, his eyes were soft. There was some softness in there, the kind no one's ever seen, because they didn't deserve to see it.

"No, just..." she wiped away the tears and pushed his hands off her shoulders as she leaned against the railing. "I just want you to promise me that you'll tell me- the next time, because in a job like ours there will be a next time for sure."

"Yeah, I promise."

She smiled softly, her wrath slowly disappearing and tiredness took its place. She looked tired.

"You know, we never really talk about it, but just so you know, you mean a lot to me." she said quietly, as if she's confessing something she's not ready for yet. "And I mean it. I really do. No joke or anything."

"I know." he really knew, and he also knew that not many people would do that for him. "And I'd kill for you."

"I know, you already did." she chuckled. "And not even once."

"They deserved it."

"In your eyes everyone deserves to die who looks at us the wrong way." she said remembering all the times Deckard decided to pull out a gun to shoot someone who was unfriendly. "Actually, I'm surprised Hobbs is still with us."

"I promised to fight him one day."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised about that at all." she looked at the others who sat around the table talking. "You'd win."

"I know I would."

"But he'd kick your ass too. He asked me if I want him to do that after the stunt you pulled. I said I'd think about it."

"And what do you think?"

"You'd deserve it, but I'm leaning towards a no."

Deckard laughed and so did she. It was good to laugh with him again.

They stayed quiet after that. She didn't know what else to say or rather how she should talk about the things she should definitely talk about. She thought of the last few hours and days, how Letty was there for her after Deck's fake death - and what they talked about. How she regretted not telling him the things she wanted to.

"I didn't mean it like that." she spoke up after a while. "When I said you mean a lot to me." she had his full attention, she knew it and felt it in his gaze. "I meant that I think about you as more than a friend."

She continued to look at her friends again, watched as they laughed and talked. Dom had his son in his arms and Roman and Tej were arguing again. She focused on every small detail instead of looking Deck in the eyes.

"I know what you meant sweetheart. That's what I meant when I said I'd kill for you." she had to look at him when his hand was on hers. "I just can't let them see me as a softie, can I?"

He was teasing her and he was grinning, and in that moment for her he was the most lovable, playful asshole in the whole world.

"You dick!" she shouted with a laugh as she hit his arm and she felt the others' eyes on herself. "You come back from the dead and you act like this? I should let Hobbs kick your ass. Being soft with me is the least you can do to apologize."

"I knew you wanted to hit me."

She hit him on the arm again - this time the both of them were grinning like idiots and she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Of course I do. This is the worst love confession I've ever seen."

"But you wouldn't have me any other way."

"That's right, I wouldn't. I'd be way too bored without you in my life."

This time he caught her arm before it could land and his hold on her wrist was gentle. That hand could kill and punch - and he looked damn good when he did that -, but it would never ever hurt her. Not intentionally.

They both leaned in to kiss the other - and they most likely argued about who had the balls to initiate the first kiss later. It was a great kiss, a damn good one. The one what's full of passion and emotion, the one that made her stomach tighten.

"I love you, you idiot, but if you act like you're dead in front of me ever again I--" he kissed her again to shut her up.

"I love you too."

"So much for not being a softie." she giggled as she hugged him, hiding her face from everyone - because she was grinning like an idiot in love.

"You won't let this one go, will you?"

"Not at all." she answered. "By the way, just so you know, Dom wasn't the only one who called your mother."

"You did not call my mother."

"I didn't want to punch you, but she'll definitely scold you for me."

She smirked as she saw his expression. "You're one evil woman."

"But you wouldn't have me any other way." she quoted.

On the other side of the roof the table was set a long time ago and everyone was waiting for the two of them to join in so they can start to eat. Although watching the drama before eating wasn't too bad either.

"You know, as much as I dislike him, I'm happy she's happy." Ramsey said after the pair kissed.

"I was right man, I really didn't want to see that." it was Tej's turn to poke Roman, who only stared at Deckard and her in disbelief.

"I expected more drama." Rome said with clear disappointment in his voice. "And why is she in love with the guy? What does he have that I don't?"

"Why don't you go ahead and tell that to him yourself. I'm sure he'd happily answer you with a punch." Tej teased him with a grin. "Go ahead boss, ask him."

"I hate you all..."

#fast and furious #the fate of the furious #deckard shaw #deckard shaw x reader #deckard shaw x fem!reader #fast and furious x reader

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deangirlsstuff67 · 2 months ago

Text

He’s Kinda that Guy

Russell Shaw x Reader

Summary: Russell’s never been afraid to get messy. Who is he to deny a pretty girl the relief she needs to enjoy the day by his side.

Warnings: flirty Russel, p in v, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, fingering, dirty talk, period sex

Authors note: I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.

—————————————————————————

You met Russell six months ago when you were called in by Colter to help get information about his brother’s missing friend. Russell was charming, flirty, easy on the eyes, and completely annoying… yet somehow you fell for his charm and agreed to go for dinner after the 100th time he asked.

Six months later here you are. Walking through the forest after rescuing Colter from a government black site with your man by your side. The two were ahead of you bickering like brothers do. It would be funny if you weren’t fighting off world war three within your body.

Yesterday your period showed up and came in hot. The first couple days are always the worst. Pain shots through your body every few minutes making walking feel like a chore. Now that the excitement is over, your mind has nothing to focus on but the crippling cramps it’s decided to gift you with.

Ugh… fucking Mother Nature.

A few more minutes tick by when Russell realizes you aren’t right behind them. Stopped against a tree, doubled over trying to breathe through another wave of cramps.

Immediately thinking you’ve been hurt, he comes running over to make sure you’re okay.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Laying a hand on your shoulders he begins to gentle rub the tension away.

This is why you fell for the green eyed beauty. The world sees a cocky, smart mouthed idiot who loves playing with fire. Meanwhile you know the truth, when he loves you Russell is the sweetest, most caring man on the planet. You’ll never go without and he will burn the world down to keep you safe.

Colter is a few steps behind and while you don’t get embarrassed easily, you’d rather he doesn’t know about the murder scene happening in your pants right now.

Quickly you look at Russell and simple tell him Mother Nature is kicking your ass. It takes him a couple seconds to comprehend what you’ve said before realization flashes in his irises and then darkens with desire.

Oh shit.

Colter stands tall and proud in front of you both now. Concern etched across his face. He’s always had a complicated relationship with his older brother, yet seeing him with you and knowing how he treats you has softened his heart towards Russell. You’ve always been like a little sister to him. Someone he cares for and wants to protect. One of the few women he has allowed to get close to him.

Russell speaks for you, you honestly couldn’t even if you tried because another wave of cramps has started and it’s worse than the last.

“She’s okay. Why don’t you continue on and I’ll get y/n outta here. She needs to talk to me about something.” It’s a lame excuse and you can see that Colter doesn’t believe it for a minute.

Damn these men and being able to read people.

“Yeah sure. Y/n you sure you’re okay?” He asks

“I’m good Colter. Just need a minute with Russ is all.”

—————————————————————————

“Sweet heart what do you need me to do?” Russell’s voice breaks through the fog your body aches are causing. He’s adorable. There is nothing he can do for me and he knows it but here he is anyways trying to help.

I won the jackpot with Russell.

Looking up into his beautiful face I see the concern playing out on his features. Russell’s a man of action. Constantly trying to fix the problem even when it’s impossible, “baby there’s nothing you can do. We just have to keep walking and hopefully the exercise will help work them out of my body.”

You can tell he wants to argue. He knows there is something else he could be doing to help you. One that brings you both pleasure. You’ve yet to allow him the forbidden luxury of taking you on your period.

No ex boyfriend of yours has ever wanted to do that. They find it gross and messy. You assumed because of the past, all men were the same. What you didn’t know was that Russell like messy. His whole life has been dangerous and messy. Covered in blood became second nature to him due to his line of work.

The two of you continue your adventure through the tall pines and evergreens. If you weren’t in pain you’d be enjoying the view being deep in the forest brings, and your boyfriend’s wonderful ass provides.

Five minutes later you hit your knees whimpering when an aggressive cramp rattles your body, “that’s it darling, we are going to solve this problem right now.”

“Russell I can’t ask you to do that. Come on, we both know how gross that will be for you.”

“I literally get covered in blood for my job, do you really think yours would turn me off?”

What you didn’t know was that Russell was dying to sink his cock into your heat when you were like this for months now. After you told him that no other man has ever done it before, it made him feral. There isn’t a lot of firsts he can take from you with you both finding each other later on in life.

This is a first he wants to claim.

Your mind was made up when you had to focus on breathing through the pain yet again.

“Okay… ugh okay babe. You win, let’s do it.”

—————————————————————————

Your back is going to be scratch to shit after you and Russell are done. As soon as you have him the green light he stalked towards you like a predator ready to jump his prey. Backing you into the closest tree as his eyes devour your entire being.

His lips touch yours in a soft, loving motion building the need in both of you. Sparks fly as his hands roam over every curve as they travel down your body towards the source of your pain.

“You sure darling?”

“No. But I trust you Russ.”

He’s hands travel into your black leggings stroking your pussy over your underwear. Even with everything in the way, your body floods with warmth as he entices moans from you.

His lips travel down your neck, nipping and licking as he goes.

“That’s is baby. Let go for me.” Harder and faster his fingers work you over. “You need to relax or it won’t work.”

Deep breathe in and you melt against the hard bark of the tree as you enjoy the pleasure your man is pulling from your body.

Just before your thrown over the edge of pure bliss Russell removes his fingers earning him an annoyed groan from you.

Laughing he quickly removes your pants and underwear. Pulling on the string of your tampon you hold your breath.

You can’t believe you’re doing this. In the middle of the forest none the less. As he pulls it from your body, you lock eyes with him only to see lust swimming in his emerald irises, “wanted to do this for so long baby girl.”

Looming over your shaking body he is quick to undo his jeans and push them just low enough to free his rock hard cock. Long, thick, and angry as it leaks pre cum, he lines himself up before slowly sinking into your waiting heat.

Holding you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist, he takes you slow and deep against the tree. Grunts and moans falling from both your lips as he reaches the spot no one else has been able to.

“God you’re perfect sweetheart.”

“Look at my sweet girl making a mess all over my cock… so fucking hot”

This shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. You shouldn’t be continuing to add moisture to his thrusting cock with every grunt that falls from your man’s sinful lips.

When the pain finally subsides you’re ready for more.

You need more.

“Russell Shaw… ugh… I need more baby,” having you beg for more is his undoing, the man unleashes his demons in you. Pistoling his hard length straight to your g-spot making you see stars.

Couple more thrusts and you can feel his cock twitching inside you, the dirty act you are both caught in has him on edge and he’s waiting for you to fall first. You snake your hand between your bodies and start playing with your clit.

“That’s it baby, make yourself cum all over my messy cock.”

Russell watches as you play with yourself as he fucks you. The act alone turns him feral as never before. He loves how dirty his woman is for him, how you completely get lost in the pleasure he provides you.

It’s his biggest turn on.

“Cum y/n. Cum for me baby.” That’s all you need. You lean your head against the tree trunk as your pussy clamps down around his cock.

Your walls flutter around him sending him over the edge three deep thrusts later. Buried deep inside you as he paints cum all over your inner walls. Panting and moans is all that can be heard between you both. Russell lays his forehead against yours whispering nothing but praise.

When he believes you can stand on your own, he gentle slides out of your well used pussy with a wet sound. Looking down he watches some of his cum leak from you. You’ll never know just how hot he finds that. His way of leaving his mark on you in a way no other man has ever had the pleasure of doing.

Another first he was able to take from you.

You look down to see the mess of blood and cum coating your man’s flaccid dick. Embarrassment reddens your cheeks as you take in the mess you’ve caused and Russell catches it. Chuckling softly he say, “don’t be embarrassed y/n, that was hands down the sexiest things I’ve ever done.” Then he gives you a passionate kiss before pulling away so you can both get dressed again.

“Feel better?”

A small smile plays on your lips as you respond, “yes babe.”

“Good. If you need pain relief again just come get me cause we are definitely doing that again.”

“You are a different kind of breed Russell Shaw.” You lean up on your tip toes to give him a loving kiss before beginning to walk again.

“What can I say sweetheart,” arm wrapped around yours whispering nothing shoulders as he holds you close, “I guess I’m kind of that guy.”

—————————————————————————

Taglist:

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @spnaquakindgdom @yvonneeeee @syrma-sensei @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @deansimpalababy

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #russell shaw x reader #russell shaw smut #russell shaw x y/n #russell shaw x you #russel shaw #tracker #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction

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winchesterwild78 · 2 months ago

Text

Lost in the Wilderness

Master List

Characters: Russell Shaw x Reader, Reader’s sister-Ashley, Colter Shaw

Warnings: angst, fluff, more angst, heartbreak

A/N: So I’ve been toying around with this story for a while. It got a little long winded so I broke it up into two parts. It does not follow the Tracker storyline, but I borrowed Russell and Colter’s characters.

The reader is on a trip and gets lost, her sister knows Colter and she calls him for help when the reader fails to check in. Russell is the one who finds the reader, and they fall in love. Then someone from his past comes back and threatens to destroy their love.

I hope you enjoy this.

This is a work of fiction, all work is my own and I do not own the rights to the characters from Tracker.

Please don’t take my work. Feel free to share, like and comment. Feedback is appreciated.

Minors DNI 18+

The last rays of sun had bled through the dense canopy hours ago, leaving the woods cloaked in an unnerving darkness. Every snap of a twig sounded like approaching footsteps, every rustle of leaves like a whispered threat. My stomach gnawed with a persistent ache, a dull counterpoint to the frantic thrumming of my heart. My throat felt like sandpaper, each swallow a painful reminder of my dwindling water supply.

Days had blurred into a terrifying sameness. The initial thrill of being alone in nature had long since evaporated, replaced by a gnawing fear that tightened its grip with each passing hour. My phone lay useless in my pocket, a sleek, silent brick mocking my reliance on the modern world.

A wave of guilt washed over me. Ashley would be worried sick. We always checked in with each other. By now, almost a week gone, she’d be frantic. The thought of her anxiety was almost as unbearable as my own predicament.

Then, a flicker of hope. I remembered Ashley mentioning a friend, Colter Shaw, someone who helped people who went missing. A tracker, she’d called him. Please, Ashley, I silently pleaded, please have called him.

Exhaustion finally pulled me under. I stumbled upon a shallow cave, the cool, damp air offering a small reprieve from the night chill. Shivering uncontrollably, I curled into a tight ball, the rough stone digging into my skin. My dreams were a jumbled mess of shadowy trees and Ashley’s worried face.

Then, a sound. A voice.

My eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I thought I was still dreaming. A figure stood silhouetted against the cave entrance, blocking the faint moonlight. As he moved closer, his features came into focus. Sandy brown hair, a bit longer than neatly cut, framed a face that held a gentle concern. And his eyes… they were a striking, vibrant green, and even in the dim light, they seemed to sparkle with an intensity that drew me in.

“Y/N?” His voice was a low, comforting rumble.

I could only manage a weak nod, my throat too tight to speak.

A soft smile touched his lips. “My name is Russell. Your sister, Ashley, sent us. We were so worried about you.”

Relief washed over me in a dizzying wave, so potent it almost brought me to my knees. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him. His presence was a beacon in the darkness, a tangible reassurance that I was no longer alone.

The next few weeks were a blur of recovery and gratitude. Ashley fussed over me, her relief palpable. And then, one evening, a thought took root. I wanted to thank Russell properly, beyond a simple "thank you." Gathering my courage, I sent him a text.

Me: Russell, thank you again for everything. Would you maybe want to get dinner sometime?

A few tense minutes later, my phone buzzed with a reply.

Russell: I'd like that very much. How about Friday?

As Friday approached my nerves got the better of me. Ashley, the reassuring little sister, told me everything would be fine. “Just don’t give me any nieces or nephews just yet.” She smirked. “Ashley! That didn’t even cross my mind.” She smiled, “Yeah right, I’ve seen him. He’s almost as good looking as Colter.”

Friday, as we sat across from each other in the warm glow of the restaurant, talking and laughing as if we’d known each other for years, something shifted within me. It wasn't just gratitude I felt. It was something deeper, something that resonated in the way his eyes met mine, in the easy rhythm of our conversation. By the end of the night, under the soft glow of the streetlights as he walked me home, I knew. I had fallen in love with Russell Shaw, the man who had found me in the darkness.

The weeks following our dinner date unfolded with a gentle, almost dreamlike quality. Each encounter with Russell felt like a continuation of that first night, an effortless flow of conversation and shared laughter. We discovered a surprising number of shared interests – a love for old movies, a passion for hiking (though the irony of that wasn't lost on either of us), and a quiet appreciation for the simple beauty of nature.

Our dates weren't extravagant affairs. We explored local bookstores, losing ourselves in the silent aisles before discussing our favorite finds over steaming mugs of coffee. We took long walks in the park, the crisp autumn air painting the leaves in vibrant hues, our footsteps crunching softly on the fallen foliage. With each shared experience, the initial gratitude I felt for him deepened into something more profound.

Russell was different from anyone I had ever known. He possessed a quiet strength, a groundedness that had been evident even in the brief moments in the cave. He listened intently when I spoke, his green eyes holding a genuine curiosity, making me feel truly seen and understood. There was a refreshing lack of pretense about him, an honesty that was both disarming and incredibly appealing.

He also had a playful side, a quick wit that often caught me off guard and left me laughing until my sides ached. I found myself looking forward to his texts, his calls, the anticipation of seeing him again, a warm flutter in my chest.

One cool evening, we found ourselves sitting on a park bench, gazing up at a sky dusted with a million stars. The comfortable silence between us wasn't empty, but rather filled with an unspoken understanding. I felt a sense of peace I hadn't experienced in a long time, a feeling of finally being safe and found in more ways than one.

He turned to me, his gaze soft in the dim light. "You know," he said quietly, "when Ashley called, she was so worried. Colter and I… we didn't hesitate. There was just this urgency, this feeling that we had to find you."

I met his eyes, my heart swelling with emotion. "I'll never be able to thank you enough, Russell."

He reached for my hand, his touch sending a shiver of warmth through me. "Knowing you're okay… that's thanks enough."

But it wasn't enough. My feelings for him had grown beyond simple gratitude. I cherished his kindness, his humor, the way he made me feel. I found myself thinking about him constantly, replaying our conversations in my mind, and longing for the next time I would see him.

One rainy Saturday, we were curled up on my couch, watching an old black and white movie. The apartment felt cozy and intimate, the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the windowpane a soothing backdrop to our quiet companionship. During a particularly poignant scene, I glanced over at him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted. In that moment, watching him, a wave of certainty washed over me. This was it. This was love.

The realization both thrilled and terrified me. It had happened so unexpectedly, born out of a moment of fear and desperation. Could something so intense, so quickly formed, truly last?

As the movie ended and the credits rolled, I turned to him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Russell," I began, my voice a little shaky.

He turned to me, his green eyes filled with a gentle inquiry.

Taking a deep breath, I continued, "I… I think I'm falling in love with you."

The silence that followed felt both eternal and fleeting. His expression softened, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He reached for my other hand, holding both of mine in his.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and sincere, "I think… I think I'm falling in love with you too."

The relief that washed over me was immense, a weight lifting from my chest. In that moment, the fear that had lingered vanished, replaced by a profound sense of hope and happiness. The journey into the woods had been terrifying, but it had led me to something beautiful and unexpected. It led me to Russell.

While the initial rush of our mutual feelings was intoxicating, the unusual circumstances of the meeting cast a long shadow. For me, the memory of those terrifying days in the wilderness was a constant undercurrent, a stark reminder of my vulnerability. Sometimes, in the quiet moments, the fear would resurface, a cold knot in my stomach. I would find myself watching Russell, a flicker of anxiety whispering doubts in my ear: Would he have looked at me this way if he hadn't found me at my weakest? Was our connection born out of pity, a sense of responsibility?

These insecurities would manifest in small ways. I might hesitate before sharing a worry, afraid of appearing fragile. Or I might misinterpret a moment of quiet contemplation from Russell, wondering if he was regretting the intensity of our connection.

Russell, too, carried his own burdens related to my rescue. He had seen me at my lowest – shivering, dehydrated, and utterly dependent. While he never treated me with anything less than tenderness and respect, I sometimes caught a flicker of something in his eyes – a protectiveness that felt almost… overwhelming. It was as if he still saw me as the fragile woman he had found in the cave, rather than the stronger, more independent person I knew myself to be.

This difference in perception occasionally led to friction. He might insist on walking me to my door late at night, even when I assured him I was perfectly safe. Or he would call to check in multiple times a day, his concern bordering on overbearing. While I appreciated his care, it sometimes felt like he wasn't fully seeing my recovery, my return to myself.

One evening, after he’d insisted on driving me home from a friend’s house just a few blocks away, I finally voiced my unease. “Russell,” I said gently, as he walked me to my door, “I appreciate you looking out for me, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like you still see me as that person in the cave.”

A shadow crossed his face. He stopped and turned to me, his green eyes troubled. “Y/N, that’s not how I see you at all. It’s just… after what happened, I can’t help but worry.”

“I know,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “But I’m not that helpless person anymore. I’m getting stronger every day. And sometimes, your protectiveness makes me feel… suffocated.”

The air between us thickened with unspoken anxieties. Had we built our relationship on a foundation of rescue and vulnerability, rather than genuine connection between two equals? The thought was a painful one, a seed of doubt that threatened to take root in the fertile ground of our newfound love.

Another source of angst stemmed from the stark contrast between the dramatic beginning of our relationship and the mundane realities of everyday life. Our first encounter was charged with adrenaline and intense emotion. Now, our days were filled with grocery shopping, laundry, and navigating the complexities of work schedules. Sometimes, I wondered if the initial spark would fade under the weight of routine. Would the extraordinary circumstances of our meeting ultimately overshadow the ordinary beauty of building a life together?

The fear of losing what we had found, the uncertainty of whether our connection could withstand the test of time and normalcy, these anxieties cast a subtle but persistent pall over our happiness. We loved each other, I had no doubt. But could love alone bridge the gap between a dramatic rescue and the quiet intimacy of a lasting relationship?

The comfortable rhythm of our relationship had recently hit a snag, a subtle discord that was starting to grate on my nerves. Russell had become… withdrawn. Not overtly so, but there were small shifts in his behavior that I couldn't ignore. He'd become less forthcoming about his day, his answers to casual questions feeling clipped and vague. There were moments when I’d catch him staring off into the distance, a furrow in his brow, a shadow in his usually bright green eyes.

Initially, I’d chalked it up to stress at work or perhaps a minor personal issue he wasn't ready to share. I gave him space, trusting that he would open up when he was ready. But as the days turned into weeks, his quietness persisted, morphing into something that felt like a deliberate holding back.

One rainy evening, we were in the kitchen, a space that usually felt warm and convivial as we cooked together. But tonight, the air was thick with an unspoken tension. I asked him a simple question about a call he’d taken earlier.

“It was just work,” he replied, his tone dismissive as he focused intently on chopping vegetables.

“Just work?” I pressed gently. “You seemed a little… preoccupied afterwards.”

He sighed, setting down his knife with a little more force than necessary. “Look, Y/N, it was nothing. Just some complications with a case.”

“Complications you can’t talk about?”

He avoided my gaze, turning to stir the simmering sauce on the stove. “It’s… sensitive. Client confidentiality and all that.”

The explanation felt flimsy, a convenient shield. As someone who valued open communication, his sudden secrecy felt like a wall being erected between us. My unease began to morph into suspicion. Was he truly just dealing with a difficult case, or was there something else? Someone else? The thought, unbidden and unwelcome, sent a shiver of coldness through me.

“Russell,” I said, my voice sharper than intended, “it’s not just this one time. You’ve been distant for weeks. It feels like you’re shutting me out.”

He finally turned to face me, his expression a mixture of frustration and something I couldn’t quite decipher. “That’s not fair. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy is one thing, Russell. This feels like something more. Are you… are you hiding something from me? Is there someone else?” The question hung in the air, heavy with my unspoken fears.

His jaw tightened. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Because you’re not being yourself! You’re guarded, you’re evasive. It’s making me feel like I can’t trust what’s going on.” The words tumbled out, fueled by weeks of growing anxiety. The memory of being lost and vulnerable resurfaced, amplifying my fear of being left in the dark again, this time emotionally.

“Trust?” He scoffed, a flash of hurt in his eyes. “After everything? After I found you?”

His words stung, twisting the knife of my insecurity. Was he holding my rescue over my head, using it as a shield against my questions?

“Yes, trust!” I retorted, my voice rising. “Trust goes both ways, Russell. It’s about being open and honest with each other, not just when it’s convenient. I told you everything when we started this relationship, every fear, every vulnerability. And now… now it feels like you’re building walls.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I can’t believe you think I’d hide something from you.”

“Then tell me what’s going on!” I pleaded, my voice cracking with emotion. “Just talk to me.”

He remained silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the countertop. The only sound in the kitchen was the gentle bubbling of the sauce. His silence felt like a confirmation of my worst fears.

“There are things, Y/N,” he finally said, his voice low and strained, “things from my past… things I haven’t fully dealt with.”

My heart sank. It wasn't another woman, not a secret life, but it was still a part of him he had kept hidden, a part that was clearly affecting our present. The relief was quickly overshadowed by a fresh wave of anxiety. What were these things from his past? Were they something that could jeopardize what we had built?

“And you couldn’t… you couldn’t share that with me?” I asked, the hurt in my voice palpable.

He finally met my gaze, his green eyes filled with a turmoil that mirrored my own. “It’s not that I didn’t want to. It’s just… it’s complicated. And I needed time to… process it.”

“Time?” I echoed, a bitter taste in my mouth. “While you were shutting me out and making me feel like I was losing you?”

The argument hung in the air, unresolved, a raw and painful fissure in the foundation of our love. The unspoken question lingered: could we bridge this gap of secrecy and insecurity, or would the shadows of the past ultimately consume our future?

The fragile truce we had reached after our argument felt like thin ice, easily cracked by the slightest tremor. Russell had started to open up, sharing fragments of his past, hinting at a relationship that had ended badly. He was hesitant, guarded, but the effort was there, and I tried to be patient, understanding.

Then, the email arrived.

It was addressed to Russell, but it had somehow ended up in our shared spam folder. Curiosity, that insidious little voice, urged me to open it. The subject line was simply a name: "Lena."

The contents were brief but devastating. Lena wrote about needing to talk, about something important that had come up. She mentioned a child, a four-year-old boy named Finn. And then, the words that made my blood run cold: "He has your eyes, Russell."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. My breath hitched in my throat, and the letters on the screen blurred through a sudden rush of tears. A child. Russell's child. A secret of this magnitude, one he hadn't even hinted at, felt like a betrayal that cut deeper than anything I could have imagined.

When Russell came home that evening, I tried to act normal, my insides churning with a mix of shock, anger, and a profound sense of hurt. I made dinner, the familiar routine feeling surreal, like actors playing roles in a tragedy neither of them fully understood yet.

Finally, as we sat across from each other at the table, the unspoken weight between us became unbearable. I pushed the email across the table.

Russell picked it up, his brow furrowing in confusion as he read the sender’s name. Then, his eyes widened, the color draining from his face as he scanned the contents. His hands trembled slightly as he placed the email back down.

“Lena…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Lena,” I echoed, my voice tight with emotion. “And Finn. Your son, Russell. Your four-year-old son that you never told me about.”

He looked up at me, his green eyes filled with a raw mixture of shock and panic. “Y/N, I… I can explain.”

“Explain what, Russell?” I demanded, my voice trembling. “Explain how you kept something this enormous from me? How you let me fall in love with you while you were hiding a child?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he pleaded, reaching for my hand. I instinctively recoiled.

“Then what was it like?” I challenged, my heart pounding a painful rhythm against my ribs. “Was she just a casual fling? A one-night stand that resulted in a child you conveniently forgot about?”

“No! Lena… it was a serious relationship, years ago. It ended badly. I… I didn’t even know about Finn until now. She left shortly after we broke up, moved away. I had no idea.” His words tumbled out, a desperate attempt to stem the tide of my anger and hurt.

“You had no idea?” I repeated, the disbelief thick in my voice. “For four years? And she just… reappears with a child who has your eyes? It sounds like something out of a soap opera, Russell.”

“It’s the truth,” he insisted, his gaze earnest. “I swear. Lena never contacted me. I had no reason to believe…” He trailed off, his face etched with a dawning realization of the enormity of the situation.

“And now?” I asked, the question heavy with unspoken implications. “What happens now? Does she expect you to… what? Be a father? Be with her again? Does this change everything between us?”

The silence that followed was deafening, filled only with the frantic beating of my heart. Russell looked lost, overwhelmed by the sudden reappearance of his past. The man I had fallen in love with, the man who had rescued me from the wilderness, now seemed like a stranger, a man with a hidden history that threatened to unravel everything we had built.

The fragile connection we had forged in the aftermath of my rescue, the tentative steps we had taken towards a future together, now felt like they were teetering on the brink of collapse, threatened by the unexpected arrival of a child and the secrets that had kept him hidden.

The news of Finn hung between us like a palpable weight, suffocating the air in our small apartment. The initial shock had begun to give way to a tangled mess of emotions: confusion, hurt, and a deep-seated fear of the unknown.

For Russell, the revelation seemed to have thrown him into a state of bewildered turmoil. He paced our living room, running a hand through his hair repeatedly, his usual calm demeanor shattered. He kept muttering about Lena, about the years that had passed, about the sheer improbability of it all. There was a dazed quality to his eyes, as if he were trying to reconcile the man he was with the sudden reality of being a father.

"I just... I can't believe it," he kept saying, his voice laced with disbelief. "Four years. A whole child. And she never said a word."

His shock, while understandable, did little to soothe the ache in my own chest. While he grappled with the unexpected arrival of a son, I was grappling with the realization that a significant part of his life had been kept hidden from me. It wasn't just about the child; it was about the years of unspoken history, the relationship with Lena that had produced him. It made me question everything I thought I knew about Russell, about the foundations of our love.

"What does this mean, Russell?" I finally asked, my voice barely a whisper. "What happens now?"

He stopped pacing and looked at me, his green eyes filled with a raw vulnerability I hadn't seen before. "I don't know," he admitted, the honesty of his answer doing little to quell my anxiety. "I need to talk to Lena. I need to understand everything."

The thought of him talking to Lena, the woman who held such a significant piece of his past, twisted something inside me. A wave of jealousy, sharp and unwelcome, washed over me. It wasn't just about Finn; it was about the connection they once shared, a connection that had created a life.

"And what about us?" I pressed, needing to hear him say something, anything, that would reassure me. "Where do I fit into all of this?"

He took a step towards me, reaching out his hand, but hesitated. "Y/N, you mean everything to me. What we have... it's real. This... this is a shock. It's something I never saw coming. But it doesn't change how I feel about you."

His words were meant to be comforting, but they felt inadequate against the enormity of the situation. How could things remain the same? The landscape of our relationship had irrevocably shifted. There was now a third person, a child who was biologically his, and a past that had suddenly become very present.

The next few days were a blur of hushed phone calls between Russell and Lena. I tried to remain composed, to offer support, but the uncertainty gnawed at me. I listened to his end of the conversations, piecing together fragments of information: Lena had moved back to the area recently, a single mother struggling to make ends meet. She had decided to reach out to Russell, not necessarily seeking a romantic reconciliation, but wanting Finn to know his father.

With each passing day, the reality of Finn became more tangible. Russell showed me a picture Lena had sent – a little boy with sandy brown hair and, undeniably, Russell's sparkling green eyes. Seeing that image, the living proof of a life Russell had unknowingly created, was a strange and unsettling experience. A pang of something akin to protectiveness mixed with a profound sense of displacement.

The question of what this meant for our future loomed large. Would Russell want to be a full-time father? Would Lena expect us to become a family unit? Where would I fit into this new dynamic? The possibilities swirled in my mind, each one more anxiety-inducing than the last.

One evening, Russell sat me down, his expression serious. "Lena wants us to meet Finn," he said quietly.

The invitation felt like a pivotal moment, a step into an unknown territory that could either solidify our relationship in the face of this challenge or tear it apart. Meeting Finn meant acknowledging this new reality, confronting the past, and facing the uncertain future head-on.

"And you want to?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

He took my hands in his, his gaze earnest. "I need to. He's my son, Y/N. Regardless of the circumstances, I have a responsibility."

I nodded slowly, a knot of apprehension tightening in my stomach. “I want you to meet him, if he is your son then yes, you have a responsibility to him. Are you sure you want me there?"

Russell took my hand in his, “I absolutely want you there. You will be a part of his life too. He needs to meet you.”

I nodded, “Then we will meet him.”

But beneath my outward agreement, a storm of questions raged. Could our love withstand the complexities of parenthood, especially one that had arrived so unexpectedly? Could I accept Russell's past and the undeniable bond he would forever share with Lena through their child? And perhaps the most terrifying question of all: would the arrival of Finn ultimately mean the end of us? The news had irrevocably changed the landscape of our relationship, and the path forward was shrouded in uncertainty.

The meeting with Finn was a bittersweet affair. He was a small, hesitant boy, clinging to Lena's leg with wide, cautious eyes. But as Russell knelt down, his voice gentle and encouraging, a spark of curiosity flickered in Finn's gaze. Russell, surprisingly, seemed to fall into the role of a father figure with an almost innate ease. He asked Finn about his favorite toys, his drawings, his shy smiles gradually blossoming into small giggles. There was a natural warmth between them, a connection that was undeniable and, for me, a little unsettling to witness. Only because I knew I would take a step back if Russell asked me to for the sake of his child. It made my heart clench and my stomach tighten.

As Russell navigated this new dynamic, Lena became a more prominent figure in his life. There were frequent phone calls about Finn, visits for Russell to spend time with his son, and a growing sense of shared history being revisited. Initially, I tried to be supportive, understanding that Russell needed to build a relationship with his child. But as the weeks passed, Lena's interactions with Russell began to feel less about co-parenting and more about rekindling something that had long been dormant.

She would linger after dropping Finn off, reminiscing about old times, her laughter a little too bright, her touches on Russell's arm a little too familiar. Russell, for his part, didn't exactly discourage this attention. There was a certain nostalgic fondness in his eyes when he spoke to her, a politeness that bordered on warmth. I watched these interactions, a cold knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.

Our private moments became strained. Conversations were often punctuated by calls from Lena, and Russell would sometimes cut our evenings short to see Finn, which I understood, but the underlying current of Lena's presence felt like an unwelcome third party in our relationship.

One evening, we were having dinner, the silence thick with unspoken tension. Russell's phone buzzed with a text. He glanced at it, a small, almost secretive smile playing on his lips before he pocketed it.

"Who was that?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral.

"Just Lena," he replied casually. "She was asking about Finn's bedtime routine."

But there was something in his demeanor, a subtle shift in his energy, that made me doubt the simplicity of his answer. The feeling that he was pulling away, that the connection we had forged was slowly unraveling, grew stronger each day.

"Russell," I began, my voice trembling slightly, "I feel like... I feel like you're drifting away."

He looked up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "What? No, Y/N, that's not true."

"Isn't it?" I challenged, my hurt bubbling to the surface. "You spend so much time talking to Lena, reminiscing about your past. It feels like she's becoming more and more a part of your life, and I'm... I'm being pushed to the side."

"That's not fair," he protested, but his tone lacked conviction. "I'm just trying to be a good father."

"I understand that," I said, my voice softer now, laced with sadness. "But it feels like there's more to it than that. The way you look at her sometimes... the way you talk about the past... it's like a part of you is still there. The way a smile tugs at your lips when she texts you."

He avoided my gaze, picking at his food. "Lena and I have a history. It's natural that there would be some... connection."

"But where does that leave me, Russell?" I asked, the question hanging heavy in the air. "Are you sure you still want this? Are you sure you still want me, when she's back, with your son, offering you a ready-made family?"

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken fears and doubts. The effortless connection we once shared felt strained, replaced by a growing chasm of uncertainty. Lena's reappearance had not only brought a child into Russell's life but had also unearthed a past that threatened to consume our present and jeopardize our future. The ease with which he had stepped into the role of a father was now overshadowed by the unsettling ease with which he seemed to be slipping back into the orbit of his former love.

The growing distance between Russell and me felt like a slow, agonizing erosion. Each casual mention of Lena, each slightly too-long phone call, chipped away at the foundation we had built. The easy laughter and comfortable silences were replaced by a strained politeness, a careful treading around the unspoken presence of his past and his child's mother.

A quiet resolve began to form within me, a sense of self-preservation kicking in. I couldn't fight a ghost, a shared history that predated me and now included his son. The energy I had once poured into nurturing our relationship began to recede, redirected inwards.

I started spending more time with my friends, accepting invitations I had previously declined. Girls' nights filled with laughter and familiar comfort became a welcome respite from the tension at home. I rediscovered old hobbies, losing myself in the pages of books and the rhythm of my own pursuits.

At home, I became more self-contained. I still cooked dinner, but often in silence. Our conversations dwindled, becoming perfunctory exchanges about our days. I noticed Russell seemed preoccupied, often lost in thought, his phone constantly within reach. Whether he was texting Lena or making arrangements for Finn, I didn't always know, and increasingly, I didn't ask.

The physical intimacy that had once been a comforting expression of our love also began to fade. A chaste kiss goodnight became the norm, the warmth and passion replaced by a polite formality. I could feel Russell's subtle withdrawal too, a mirroring of my own emotional retreat. It was as if we were both acknowledging the growing chasm between us without explicitly addressing it.

One evening, I found myself looking around our apartment, the space that had once felt like a shared sanctuary now feeling like a temporary layover. The photos on the mantelpiece, capturing our early days of laughter and shared adventures, seemed like relics of a distant past. A quiet sadness settled over me, a sense of mourning for the love I felt slipping through my fingers.

Russell seemed to notice my withdrawal, though he didn't actively try to bridge the gap. There were occasional moments when he would look at me with a flicker of concern in his eyes, a hesitant question on his lips. But the words never seemed to come, lost in the unspoken complexities of his new reality.

The unspoken hung heavy in the air: Lena was a constant presence, Finn was his priority (as he should be), and I was slowly becoming an outsider looking in. The easy intimacy we once shared felt like a fragile memory, threatened by the weight of a past I couldn't compete with and a future that seemed increasingly uncertain.

With each passing day, I felt myself pulling further away, creating a safe distance to cushion the inevitable fall. The vibrant hope that had blossomed after my rescue was now tinged with a quiet resignation. The man who had found me in the wilderness was now leading me into a different kind of lostness – the slow, heartbreaking realization that sometimes, love isn't enough to overcome the complexities of life and the unexpected resurfacing of the past.

The shift in Lena’s interactions with Russell became more pronounced, more deliberate. The casual touches lingered longer, the nostalgic anecdotes became more frequent, and the reasons for her to be around, ostensibly for Finn, stretched thinner. She started dropping off Finn earlier and picking him up later, often staying for a cup of coffee or a brief chat that invariably drifted into reminiscing about their shared past.

One Saturday afternoon, I came home early from a friend’s to find Lena’s car still parked outside. The sound of laughter drifted from the living room. I hesitated at the door, a knot of apprehension tightening in my chest.

Stepping inside, I found Russell and Lena sitting close on the couch, Finn happily playing with blocks on the rug. They both looked up, a slightly guilty look flashing across Lena’s face before she plastered on a bright smile.

“Oh, hi, Y/N! We were just… catching up,” she said, her tone overly cheerful.

Russell’s demeanor was more subdued, a hint of awkwardness in his greeting. The air felt thick with an intimacy I wasn’t a part of, a comfortable familiarity that excluded me.

Over the next few weeks, Lena’s “catching up” sessions became more frequent. She started texting Russell directly about things unrelated to Finn, asking for advice on work or sharing personal anecdotes. I would see his phone light up with her name, a small smile playing on his lips as he replied.

Then came the dinner invitation. Russell mentioned it casually one evening. “Lena wants to thank me for helping out with Finn. She suggested we all go out for pizza.”

While the invitation included Finn, the way Russell presented it felt more like a date with a chaperone. My unease grew.

The dinner itself was uncomfortable. Lena directed most of her conversation towards Russell, her eyes often lingering on him with a warmth that made me feel like an unwanted guest. She laughed at all his jokes, even the ones that weren’t particularly funny, and subtly steered the conversation towards their shared history. Russell, while not overtly reciprocating her flirtation, didn't exactly shut it down either. He seemed to bask in the attention, a nostalgic smile often gracing his lips.

As their conversation flowed I felt more and more like I didn’t belong. I excused myself and went to the bathroom. I cried. I sent Ashley a text.

Me: Hey, can you come pick me up from the pizza place on Main. I can’t do this.

Ashley: Sure, I’ll be right there.

I dried my eyes and went back to the table. They didn’t notice my return. I touched Russell’s arm. He didn’t look at me. “Russell, I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head home. I’ll see you later.”

He finally looked at me and I saw him gasp slightly. He saw my red, tear stained eyes, “Oh um okay. I guess I can take you home.”

I swallowed hard, “No, it’s okay. I’ve already sent Ashley a text asking her to come get me.”

Lena smiled, “See Russell, you don’t have to leave. She’ll get home just fine.”

Russell looked at her and then back at me, “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” As soon as Ashley sent me a text I told him I was leaving. He nodded, placed a kiss on my cheek and I left.

When I got into Ashley’s car I cried. “I’m losing him, Ash. He’s falling in love with her. I see it when he looks at her. I can’t compete with her, she has his child.”

Ashley gave me a hug and reassured me that Russell loved me, but my heart was already broken.

One evening, Russell went to drop Finn back at Lena’s. Hours passed, and he still wasn’t home. I tried to call him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. A cold dread washed over me. When he finally walked through the door, well after midnight, he offered a vague explanation about Lena needing to talk.

“Talk about what, Russell?” I asked, my voice tight with a mixture of worry and suspicion.

He avoided my gaze. “Just… Finn. Some issues she’s dealing with.”

But I saw the weariness in his eyes, the subtle defensiveness in his posture. I didn’t press, but the seed of doubt that had been planted weeks ago began to sprout into full-blown fear.

The final straw came a few days later. I was looking for a charging cable in Russell’s car and found a small, folded note tucked into the visor. It was Lena’s handwriting.

“Dinner was lovely, Russell. It felt like old times. Maybe we can make it just the two of us next time? Finn would be fine with his grandma. Thinking of you. – L.”

The note was like a physical blow. The casual intimacy, the clear suggestion of a romantic rendezvous, confirmed my deepest fears. He wasn’t just co-parenting; he was entertaining the possibility of something more with his ex.

That evening, when Russell came home, I was waiting for him, the note clutched in my hand. The silence in the apartment was heavy, charged with the unspoken truth.

“What is this, Russell?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak, holding out the note.

He paled as he recognized the handwriting. He didn’t deny it. He couldn’t.

The rift that had been growing between us had now widened into a gaping chasm. Lena had made her move, and Russell’s response, his willingness to entertain her advances, had brought us to a breaking point. The love story that had begun with a rescue in the wilderness now seemed destined to end with a quiet, painful goodbye in the confines of our once-shared home.

Part 2

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jokeringcutio · 2 years ago

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Albert Shaw x (younger f girlfriend) Reader - Unwind (Explicit/Smut)

Fandom: Black Phone

Pairing: Albert Shaw (the Grabber) x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Rough sex on the couch, Consensual Sex, Creampie, Older man/younger woman, Age difference/Age Gap, Girlfriend Reader, College Reader, Mention of parents, mention of not being on birth control. (Not beta-read)

Unwind

The warmth of Albert Shaw's cozy living room enveloped you. The two of you were set on the grey soft couch, the flickering lights of the television screen forming patterns over Albert’s face. The sound was turned off – there were adverts on anyway. And so you studied him instead.

You thought back to the day you met Albert - a kid's birthday party, your younger brother's. His magical performance had left everyone in awe. You smiled at the memory as he sat across from you, his chestnut hair framing his face, flecks of grey at the roots.

How he had captured your heart with just a smile. You came to understand that picking you out as his assistant had not been a coincidence at all. But, as he later told you once things between you got serious, it had been love at first sight. And he had wanted to see you from up close.

"Another child went missing last night," you said softly, an uneasy tension settling over the room while outside the wind howled like a beast. "They're calling him the Grabber."

Albert flinched, his bright blue eyes darkening for a moment. He glanced towards the basement door, then back at you. "That's terrible," he muttered, his voice low and gruff. You noticed the way his fingers tapped nervously on the armrest of the couch, but you continued talking, trying to fill the silence that threatened to swallow you both.

"Everyone in Denver is terrified. No one knows who it could be." Your voice wavered, betraying your own fear. "Can you imagine what those poor families must be going through?"

Albert pursed his lips, staring ahead of him before his blue eyes finally found yours. You didn’t need to voice the fear that was deep inside of you. Your brother was just the right age to be of interest to the mysterious kidnapper that plagued your city.

“I don’t want you to worry about it, dear,” he said, voice low and smooth. Whenever you heard him you felt butterflies fluttering deep inside. How could a man sound like this and be real? It sounded too good to be true. But here he was, with you, comforting you.

“If you worry about your brother, know that I am here,” his hand gave yours a gentle squeeze, and a small smile played on his lips. “I’ll make sure the Grabber doesn’t get him.”

You let out a soft laugh. His words were exactly what you needed to hear. “Then I am happy to have such a heroic man as my boyfriend.”

Next to your side, Albert seemed to stiffen, then his eyes settled on you again and he placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “Yeah,” was all he said. But you’d noticed it. Something was off about him, had been off for a while. But today it was worse. There was a certain glint to his eyes, a twitch to his hands. As if he was nervous.

"Albert," you said gently, noticing his jitteriness. "Is everything alright? Did something happen at work?"

He avoided your gaze and shook his head. "No, nothing happened. I'm just... a little on edge, that's all." His fingers brushed against yours as he let out a low chuckle. "You know what could help me relax, though, don't you?"

You furrowed your brow, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. He had always been a bit cryptic, but this time, you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

“Want some tea? Or a massage?” You stuttered, thinking of all the possible things that could help make him relax. “I could run you a hot bath?”

“Hmm, a massage sounds about right,” Albert hummed, hand withdrawing from the armrest as he turned to look at you, blue eyes glinting in the dim light of the room. “A very specific massage.”

You blinked at him, mind raking over the possible types of massage that there existed. “Sure,’ you said.

You watched as he moved his hands downward until they rested above the bulge between his legs. In the dim light, you hadn’t quite recognized the tent he was sporting. And when he remained silent and just observed you patiently, as if waiting for something, you grew worried.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" you asked, concern lacing your voice. You wanted to be there for him, to support him through whatever was causing him distress.

"Maybe you could... help me unwind?" Albert suggested with a sly grin, leaning closer to you. His hand slid up your arm, fingertips sending shivers down your spine. "You've got such a soothing touch."

You blinked in confusion, still not fully grasping the implications of his words. Your heart pounded in your chest, an odd mixture of anxiety and excitement bubbling within you. Albert's closeness was both comforting and electrifying, and you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"Of course," you murmured, unsure of what he truly desired, yet eager to bring him relief from his tension.

His lips descended on your hair again, then slowly trailed down to your cheek. Open-mouthed kisses, with his tongue peeking out every now and again. His hand grasped yours and placed it on his bulge where you felt him swell underneath your palm and e fabric. Your eyes widened when you finally understood what this was all leading to.

"Albert," you whispered, realization finally dawning upon you. "You want me to...?"

"Help me find release," he finished your sentence, his voice husky and low. The intensity in his bright blue eyes darkened as desire consumed him.

"Of course," you breathed, a shiver of anticipation running through you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. His lips met yours hungrily, pressing forcefully against your own.

He responded with a needy growl, his hands gripping your waist tightly, almost painfully so.

"Such a good girl," he praised between fevered kisses, his chestnut brown hair brushing against your face as he moved to your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin there. Your whimpers only seemed to spur him on further as his hand slid underneath your shirt and bra.

He peeled away your clothes one by one, mouth feverishly covering all parts of you, leaving no part of you unexplored. All the while, your hand moved up and down his bulge, still covered by his pants. A wet spot had started to form, soaking through his clothes. And a low groan near your ear made you look up to see a hunger in his eyes that left you breathless.

His rough hands explored every inch of your body, leaving no part untouched. The forcefulness of his actions sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making you acutely aware of how much you craved this side of him. He bent you over the couch, flipped you, and angled you in such ways as gave him the most pleasure. The light of the television lit your body and formed patterns of fireworks and stars across your naked skin as Albert undid his belt.

The revelation made your mouth water. It wasn’t that you hadn’t ever done this before. Albert had been quite persuasive and you had been just as hungry for him to allow him to take you to his bed. You’d bled for him that first time, had tasted him out of curiosity, had allowed him to own you completely and fuck all of your holes. And now that he craved you, you felt you craved him as well.

Let him unwind. You could do with a little fun yourself.

"Please," you gasped, desperate for him to take you completely. "I need you, Albert."

He didn't need any more encouragement. He flipped you over until you were lying on your tummy on the couch. His hand pressed your head down while the other traced past your hip – gently.

His breath stuttered – a deep inhale that sounded more like a beast ready to pounce on its prey. Perhaps it was, because, in one swift motion, he entered you, eliciting a sharp cry from your lips. He moved his hips without allowing you to accommodate, tight pussy being stretched unreasonably past its limits. The pain quickly gave way to exquisite pleasure as he started to move, and you pushed your hands against the couch as he thrust into you with a ferocity that made your head spin. The loud moan that escaped you had Albert halt.

“Be quiet now, baby girl,” his low voice grunted. “We don’t want to wake Samson.”

You glanced over at where the dog was, thinking that surely the creature would not mind. But Albert had been more often like this. One day he wanted you to scream, the next he wanted no one to know he was fucking his much younger girlfriend.

“Can you be quiet for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep silent. But it took effort as his hips pushed against your pelvis deliciously hard, like a man possessed. For a moment you thought about asking him to be gentler with you, but then you remembered you’d promised to help him out. And if this was what he needed, then let him have it. You could take it.

He moved with fierce movements, cockhead hitting your cervix with bruising force, over and over. It was different than any fucking you had before. How could you remain silent like this?

You gasped and clawed your fingers against the couch in an attempt to get some leverage. He straightened his spine and then raised your hips, propping a pillow underneath, before he bore down deep inside of your cunt, grunting and groaning as he punished your pussy relentlessly with harsh thrusts. He was no longer a man, but something from Hell. Something devilish, both in looks and actions.

“So tight,” he groaned, words like hoarse whispers falling from his lips. “So fucking good.”

Soft gasps and unbidden moans escaped your lips as wet squelching sounds filled the room. A dull ache was felt deep below, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. The scent of sex tainted the air and sweat made your bodies shimmer in the flickering lights.

Animalistic groans escaped the man above you and you wished you could see him. But he had your head pushed forward onto the couch, ass against his chest while his cock nestled deep inside your cunt while he groaned. He pulsed deep inside of you. Had he come? He hadn’t, right?

He left you no time to ponder because his hand grasped your hair and pulled at it, hand forming a fist as he lifted you from your current position. He was thrusting harshly inside of you again. You’d never known him like this before. So wild, so violent. Yet your pussy loved it, walls fluttering around his shaft in a way you never had experienced before.

The thrusts were deep, too deep perhaps, and you were gasping, biting back pleas to be gentle because you fucking loved it. You loved how he roughly manhandled you until you knew that bruises from his hands would form on your arms and hips.

You loved how good his cock felt battering deep inside your cunt even if you knew it would leave you sore for days to come. You loved how he dominated you, uncaring about your well-being or your wishes or the fact that he wasn’t supposed to come inside. His hips moved against yours roughly, and as he tried to reposition you – being so strong despite his age – your arm bumped against the table next to the couch, accidentally knocking something off the table. You turned your head to look, even if Albert tried to pull you back for a kiss.

The television’s light became bright, illuminating a hideous grin that stared up at you. Taunting. Haunting.

“What is that mask doing here?” you wondered, catching a glimpse of what could only be described as a demonic-looking mask, bigger than Albert’s head.

Your head was forcefully tugged aside, the grip on your hair making you flinch and unable to look at the mask any longer, as Albert guided you back onto the couch until you were on your back with him on top, legs spread wide at either side of his chest, allowing him to plow as deep inside of you as your tight little channel allowed. When he re-entered you, the slick sounds were a disturbing indicator of how wet he had made you.

“I said, keep your mouth shut,” Albert said through gritted teeth, forcing your head to turn so you were looking at him again. A thrust of his hips, a wet squelch as cum slipped past the hilt of his cock, escaping the depths of your cunt.

He was on his way to his second orgasm, hips stuttering irregularly against your own. You did not see it though, only heard the wet sounds from where your bodies met and felt the irregularity of his thrusts.

“Lips sealed, sweetheart,” he muttered before he descended upon you once more, lips hungrily working against your own.

You gasped, allowing him easy access until his tongue was licking against yours. You kissed him back just as eagerly, hands finding a way to his chest to hold him – perhaps teasing his nipples a bit deliberately but he had definitely earned that.

The kiss ended abruptly. Your mind was foggy and no longer focused on the hideous mask you had seen. Instead, all you could focus on was his mesmerizing blue half-lidded eyes as he studied you in between thrusts. His right hand grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head. His left rested on your waist, near your hipbone, pressing down possessively.

It felt good, so good.

"Mine," he grunted, eyes locked onto yours as he claimed you entirely. His relentless pace continued, pushing you both towards a precipice neither of you could resist.

"Yours," you managed to choke out, overcome by the intensity of the moment. The hard fucking was delicious, the battering of his cock against your cervix sent ripples of pleasure down your core until your walls pulsed around his shaft, milking him, begging him to come.

He hunched over you, his chest warm against your breasts as he rutted into you like a beast in heat. As the wave of ecstasy crashed over you, his grip held your hands above your head while your pussy pulsed around his throbbing cock. You gasped as he leaned in even further, folding you even more than you were, getting in so deep it hurt.

"Remember this," Albert panted, his gaze never leaving yours. The world around you seemed to blur and fade away, leaving only the two of you tangled together in a moment of raw, unbridled passion. “Only I can give you what you crave.”

And you believed him. He had ruined you, he once told you. And in this moment, you fully believed he had.

Albert groaned your name in your ear as he came, as the warmth of his cum filled you for a second time and a low groan exhibited his release. Wordlessly, Albert moved his hips against you, his cock moving inside you with less force now, thrusts light. You gasped, eyes searching for his. But he was studying the way your bodies connected. Another low groan as he carefully slipped from your core.

A deep sigh and a rustle of the couch as Albert got up off it to get some tissues. You watched through half-lidded eyes how he cleaned his cock, then got out some fresh tissues to dab between your legs. He halted there, looking up at you to make sure he had your attention, tissue still pressed against your weeping cunt.

“I got a bit rough with you, sweetheart,” he said, although you were not quite sure if it was an apology or just a statement.

You flashed him a small smile, lying on your back, sated. “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you quipped.

Albert grinned and continued wiping your sore pussy clean. You noticed the copious amount of cum that came into the tissues, but decided not to comment on any of it. You’d get the morning-after pill, you decided quietly. He didn’t need to know or worry, and neither should you.

After you were both presentable again, you felt how Albert scooted on the couch with you. He held you close, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. His lips, tender and searching, found yours in a kiss that was both soft and intense. It felt as if he was trying to convey his deepest emotions through the delicate press of skin against skin.

"God," he murmured, his breath warm on your cheek. "I don't know how I got so lucky."

His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, banishing the chill that had begun to seep into your bones. You smiled, nestling closer to him as your fingers traced lazy patterns on the expanse of his chest.

"Me neither," you whispered, feeling a sense of belonging that you hadn't known was possible.

Moments later, Albert reluctantly untangled himself from you, his eyes lingering on your face as if trying to memorize every detail. With a soft kiss placed on your forehead, he rose from the couch and made his way to the bathroom.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you were left alone with your thoughts. The memory of Albert's rough touch lingered on your skin. A shiver ran down your spine as you realized just how much you'd enjoyed it. The raw, unbridled passion. You enjoyed it too.

And then, how you had allowed him to fully conquer you. It should raise questions. In a way, it did, because you should have stopped him from having this unprotected sex when he knew you weren’t on the pill. You wanted to, but… something about money. Plus, you were still in college and your parents were being a bitch about you dating anyone.

You couldn't help but wonder how you could introduce Albert to them. They would surely question your relationship with someone so much older than you. But you were certain they would come to see what a genuinely incredible man he was – if only they could look past the age difference. They had liked him at your brother’s party. Your dad had always spoken highly of Albert, knowing him of the Denver bowling team.

Carefully, you got off the couch, not completely surprised when a squelch announced some more cum escaping your core. Annoyed by the mess that dribbled down your legs, and the fact that Albert was keeping the bathroom occupied, you threw on your sweater and walked to the kitchen instead.

You rinsed your hands with water before taking another tissue to dab between your legs. Was sex always this messy, you wondered? The times you and Albert had been at it, he’d often pulled out and cum over your chest. You’d even swallowed his load a few times. But this… this was new.

Not to say you didn’t like it.

Lost in thought, you were startled by a sudden pounding noise coming from the direction of the basement door. Your heart skipped a beat as the eerie sound echoed through the otherwise silent house.

"Albert?" you called out, hoping that the noise was nothing more than a trick of your imagination. But the banging continued, insistent and undeniable.

“Samson?” you asked, hoping it was Albert’s dog. But Samson came padding around the corner and looked at you with blurry eyes, as if your call had just awoken him.

“Hmm, not Samson then,” you whispered, patting the dog on his head and telling him he was a good boy – even if Samson sniffed between your legs, pressing his wet nose a bit too close to your private parts before letting out a happy yip and scurrying back into the living room again.

Tentatively, you pulled the sweater lower so it covered most of your hips, making you feel a little less exposed as you as you approached the door. A sense of dread began to worm its way into your chest, tightening its grip with every step you took.

"Albert?" you called again, more urgently this time. There was no response, only the relentless pounding that seemed to grow louder with each passing second.

Finally, you reached the door, your hand hovering uncertainly above the doorknob. Inhaling a deep breath, you steeled yourself for whatever lay beyond. With your heart hammering in your chest, you grasped the cold metal and turned it.

Fin

AN: Whoops, sorry not so sorry about that ending. Anyway, I wrote this in a hurry and slept 12 hours after my latest hospital visit yesterday, so pardon any inconsistencies or mistakes.

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bullet-prooflove · 7 months ago

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i would love to see what you could do for Dean Winchester or Russell Shaw (whoever you feel like writing for!) with the prompt: "'Cause it fit too right, puzzle pieces in the dead of night" from The Tortured Poets Department. 😊

Thank you!!! 💖💖

Tagging: @kmc1989 @claymoresofinfamy23 @mckinleysbones @dayhsdreaming @nilliansblog

Companion piece to:

The War Correspondent - A mysterious phone call from a retired War Correspondent leads Russell on a journey he doesn’t expect.

Russell realises he’s in love with you in a motel room in Seattle. You’re been working a job in the area and he’s decided to make the trip because it’s been a minute since the two of you have connected.

The fact he’s willing to drive over 1000 miles just so he can spend a couple of nights in your company should have been the first clue.

He spends the entire night tangled up in you, his mouth ghosting over your skin, leaving his mark all over you. He wants you to remember him when he has to leave, to look at those pretty purple bruises and to think of him, the time the two of you have spent together.

That he realises, should have been the second.

It’s 4am when he wakes up to the sight of you pulling on his Pantera t-shirt, the hem falling past your ass, barely covering the tattoo that’s inked into your upper thigh. Your form is silhouetted by the light from the streetlamp outside, filtering in through the closed curtains. He watches you retreat to the bathroom and he thinks about all the women he’s been with over the years, the one night stands, the Irish goodbyes.

None of them, not a single one has ever compared to you.

He’s quiet when you climb back into bed alongside him, your cool limbs tangling with his warm ones as you lay facing him on the pillow in the darkness. His thumb ghosts over your cheek, tracing over that the tiny scar just underneath your right eye, the one that nobody else knows is there.

“I love you.” He whispers, his lips brushing over it. “God help me but I do.”

Love Russ? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#russell shaw #russell shaw x reader #tracker cbs #tracker

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lover-of-mine · 1 year ago

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Let's talk about this and patterns in the show, shaw we?

Okay, so Buck wearing green here is stressing me out now. I have a really long meta in Buck and green and red clothing (you can read it here), but I'll explain the green side of the point here if you don't want to read that. Basically, Buck wears a lot of red, enough for it to be a stable color for him, and red's complementary color is green. He's usually on the reds, pinks, and oranges.

The point of a complementary color, is to create contrast, and they used green on Buck in the coma world, so we would feel like something is wrong even if we can't quite figure out why.

They made a lot of choices about his wardrobe in the coma dream that just looked weird, up to getting him black vans instead of the usual white hightops, and that creates a contrast with the usual Buck that's unsettling.

Why is that relevant? Well, green is his something is wrong color. The coma world being the most blatant example because that sweater is green, BUT he wears green during breakups and when he's doing misguided stupid shit in the name of love. The breakup with Ali, the breakup with Taylor, and I will throw in the graveyard as a breakup with Eddie, because that's the feel of the scene and he's wearing green, but technically he's just being an idiot about love.

He's also wearing green when he takes Red to see Cindy, subsequently when he talks to Maddie about how it feels to always be left, when he's hiding at Eddie's place because he doesn't want to confront Taylor because that would lead to them breaking up and he's not there yet, and when he is trying to convince himself Abby is coming back (this last one really confused me but I did color picked a palette out of that shirt and that's green).

But if we established enough of a pattern to say he does misguided shit when it comes to love, like inserting himself in Red's love life, saying this random woman he met 5 minutes ago really sees him, trying to convince himself the women who fled the country is coming back to him, then Buck wearing green with Eddie is worrying.

Because if you look at the conversations they have in the firehouse, they are usually close to the point but still need something else to truly fix the situation, they hiding something or holding on to something they shouldn't, and it goes from the first fight at the gym with the way Buck is making his insecurities about Eddie and not really working through what's really bothering him, after the lawsuit, they do clear the air but Eddie is still hiding the whole fighting thing and the fighting thing actually makes Eddie flinch away from Buck, when they are talking after the dinner with Buck's parents, Eddie is trying to have a conversation but Buck wants to hold on to anger, when they are talking about the panic attacks, Eddie shuts Buck out because he doesn't want to admit Buck is right yet, and when they are talking about Chris having nightmares, Eddie is fully taking the blame for Chris missing Shannon, even if that's something completely out of his control and that eventually even leads to Eddie quitting and the thought process starts there.

So they always involve one of them wanting to have a conversation but the other not being fully ready to be honest about everything so they are talking but they are not on the same wavelength. They also always end with one of them walking out.

I have a really long meta about the framing in a lot of their big conversations (you can read it here if you want all the thoughts), but basically if they are on the same level, as they are both sitting down they are usually talking about Eddie.

Because when they are talking about Buck, Eddie is usually standing up and Buck is looking up at him. (I have a meta on the looking-up thing if you feel like reading more thoughts on that)

And if they are discussing their relationship, they are face to face.

Random add on, if they are talking about Chris, they are usually sitting side by side on the same surface in a sense, yes I'm counting the counter as one surface lol

So signs point to the new stills being Buck forcing Eddie to talk about something he's not ready to talk about. But when you add the green while Eddie is not wearing blue, so the green is not about the blue and green thing, (I have a meta on the blue and green thing in general and it applied to buddie too that one is truly unhinged tho), and the way talks at the station mean holding on to something they shouldn't and the still of Eddie talking to Bobby, this conversation can very easily be a moment of tension.

AND, I know I'm not the only one who saw those stills and immediately thought about the panic attacks conversation, BUT, stay with me because now I'm reaching, the graveyard conversation tries to call back to the dumb luck conversation (I also have a meta on the graveyard that touches on that if you want thoughts)

But basically, similar outfits and angles, locations we never saw before and probably will never see again. But, while the equine therapy talk works to give Eddie hope and bring them closer together, the cemetery has the exact opposite effect. It creates space between them.

If we consider this and the way it seems to be calling back to a conversation that led Eddie to do the right thing about Ana, they could very much be calling back to that just to do the opposite and having Eddie refuse to listen to Buck for whatever reason.

Because one thing about the dumb luck conversation is also the movement, they are walking, the camera is moving, the conversation is moving and they are making progress, something we don't feel in the cemetery because they are in the same place, the conversation is not leading them anywhere besides away from each other.

And the conversation about the panic attacks that happen while Buck corners Eddie while Eddie is trying to sleep, so Eddie will be in a more relaxed state than when Buck is walking in wearing civilian clothes and Eddie is so deep in his workout he's glistening with sweat, so Buck is walking in on Eddie with a completely different energy. And assuming conflict to the point Buck feels the need to corner him in the gym? That means fight.

This is a very long way to say divorced era 2.0 is upon us lol basically they are arguing and it's about Eddie refusing to listen to Buck about something. Maybe even love related.

If you reached this I love you 🫶

If you liked my brand of crazy, you can find all my metas here.

#911 #buddie #otp: you don't need to pretend with me #911 meta #buddie thoughts #buddie meta #911 spoilers #911 speculation #this is very chaotic #this is very unhinged #but not the craziest thing ive ever typed laoskaoskaoksaoksas #if im right im gonna scream soakoskaoksaoks #911 abc #color theory

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inmymagnetoera · 1 year ago

Note

Anon from before again: hell yeah! Given your blog name magneto's a given 😭 I have a scenario in mind, but anything's good!

Maybe the reader refused Erik in Cuba? She couldn't abandon Charles on the shore like that, he'd already lost Raven. Generally angst/unresolved tension when they meet again on the airplane in DoFP, could be juicy material

MY FIRST X READER EVER.

However, I'm not very experienced in this genre, so I hope it's close to what you wanted. Btw Reader is gender neutral, I didn't use pronouns so anyone can relate to them!

(sorry if I didn't write anything too explicit, I didn't feel very comfortable doing it :')

________________________________

What about us?

"I told you to stay back!" Erik shouted holding Charles close to him as you felt your heart tear into pieces.

The two most important people in your life. The people who had saved you and taken you in after a lifetime of thinking you were alone, had just betrayed each other right in front of you, throwing accusations and punches, until that damned bullet hit your friend.

You approached slowly and Erik looked at you furiously, before his gaze became softer and more vulnerable, after all, that look was reserved only for you.

“Charles, oh my God…” you knelt next to Erik without looking at him and placed a hand on Charles’ shoulder.

They were talking but you weren't listening, too busy thinking about what would happen next: What would happen to your dream? Mutants united as a family? What would have happened to you and Erik?

As soon as you thought about him, the man stood up from his place next to Charles and looked at you.

"Let's go." He said holding out a hand to you. Behind him, Raven, Sean, and Shaw's goons looked at you.

"Go? Go where?" You said taking Charles into your arms.

"Far from here, to a place where mutants can become stronger." You saw it in his gaze, a little prayer that begged you to follow him, a look that told you that if you didn't follow him, he couldn't do it alone.

"Erik, I can't." You had tears in your eyes as you looked at him. That stupid helmet cast a shadow over his eyes. You saw his gaze change before returning to being cold and detached. He withdrew his hand.

"You've made your choice." He said angrily. But you knew, only you could know how hurt he was.

All the nights spent with him came back to you: The first time you saw him, with his brown leather jacket and his black turtleneck, the first time he saw you cry alone, hidden from everyone, and without a word he was next to you, shoulder to shoulder.

You remembered the time you saw him use his powers to create a steel rose, and how that same evening, you found a steel rose on your bed. You remembered the first time he took your hand and whispered in your ear. You remembered the tone of his voice the first time he confessed that he loved you.

When you stopped thinking, he was gone, a small cloud of sulfur rose into the air and, as you held your friend close to you, you thought about how you were going to wake up without Erik wrapped around you.

Ten years later.

The atmosphere on the plane was tense to say the least. The clawed man looked out the window (Logan, the man's name was Logan, right?) while Charles and Erik played chess.

The years after Erik's disappearance had been tough. Charles couldn't go more than a few hours without the serum. Alex left with one last hug for a war he didn't know if he would return from. Hank did what he could, but you couldn't help but feel useless every time you saw him without his glasses and his hands clasped around his face when he thought no one was looking.

When Logan had helped you free Erik, telling you that it was the only way to save his future, you hadn't hesitated, but when you saw him in that gray suit on the ground, after Charles had punched him, you didn't know what to do.

Was he still in love with you?

You hadn't said a word to each other since, but you hadn't missed the look he'd given to your soaked body in that kitchen.

Suddenly, Charles stood up and went to the bathroom, locking himself inside.

You and Erik were alone, inches from each other.

"Was it... difficult?" He asked softly.

“Yes,” you wanted to answer him

“Yes, it was hard to wake up every day without you, yes, it was hard to accept the fact that you were gone. You always told me that I was the most important thing in your life, so why didn't you choose me instead of your cause?"

“It could have been worse.” You said instead. He looked at you and after a few seconds nodded.

"I missed you." He said reaching out and taking your hand in his, running his thumb over the back of it.

You didn't speak, you were afraid that just opening your mouth would bring you back into his arms.

"It was the hardest thing in my life, choosing between you and the brotherhood. I know you most likely hate me but... I haven't stopped thinking about you for a second. One of the only thing that kept me going in that little cell of sponge and plastic was knowing you were still out here." He ran his hand down your arm, your heart felt like it was about to explode. No, you couldn't fall back into it that easily, if he wanted your forgiveness, he would have to do more than that.

"We'll talk about it when this is all over." You said as the bathroom lock unlocked and Charles returned to his seat. Erik withdrew his hand.

As you soared above the American skies, you wondered what would become of you.

#erik lehnsherr #charles xavier #x men #fanfic #logan howlett #magneto x reader #erik lensherr x reader

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justourimaginations · 7 months ago

Text

Missed you (Colter Shaw x Fe!Reader)

Summary: You have been travelling with Colter for a few weeks. Your relationship is still relatively new. Colter comes back to the trailer after finishing a job, and you're waiting for him.

Trigger Warnings: mentions of wounds and bruises

just a short fluff one really :) I'm not a native speaker so excuse any mistakes. Also if you like this, feel free to send me any requests.

about 480 words

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You were sprawled out over the bench seat of the Airstream, your laptop on your lap. Through the window headlights lit up the trailer, and you peeked outside to see the black GMC pull up. You smiled and put your laptop on the table, getting up to greet Colter. The door to the trailer opened, and Colter stepped in, giving you a smile when he saw you walking up to him.

“Hey gorgeous” he said and let the door fall shut behind him, preoccupied with pressing his lips on yours. “Brought some food.” He held up a paper bag.

“Good, I’m starving” you replied and took it from him so he could undress. You watched him peel off his jacket, pulling a face.

“What did you get into this time?” you asked worried and walked over to him, leaving the food on the counter, ready to inspect his wounds.

“It’s just a little cut and a few bruises” he shrugged it off.

“Yeah right, let me help you” You rolled your eyes and ran your hands under his shirt to help him take it off. He had a small cut on his abs and a bunch of bruises on his chest and back. He also had a bruise on his cheekbone that had already turned purple. He watched you closely as you cleaned the cut and put a band-aid on it, moving on to inspecting the bruises.

“What is it?” you raised a brow at his smirk.

“Nothing” he shrugged, “I’m just not used to someone being here to take care of me.”

“Well, you better get used to it, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere” you smiled.

“I sure hope so” Colter replied, his gaze soft and loving, making your heart flutter. You could just melt at the way he was looking at you. He leaned in but let you close the final distance, his way of asking for consent to kiss you. His lips were soft and instantly started moving against yours. You smiled into the kiss, your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles flex, as he pulled you closer. You pulled away, leaving him pouting a little.

“I want to eat this before it gets cold” you nodded at the take-out he had brought and went to put it on plates. Colter sighed and put a fresh shirt on, while you placed the plates on the table and took a beer out of the fridge for him.

You could feel him creep up behind you, as you placed the beer on the table. His arms wrapped around your waist and his lips lightly caressed your neck.

“I missed you” he hummed, his breath tickling your skin.

“You’ve only been gone for like 12 hours” you chuckled, turning around to face him.

“That’s too long” he pouted and once again pressed his lips onto yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck and returned his kiss.

#colter shaw fanfiction #colter shaw #tracker #tracker cbs #colter shaw x reader #justin hartley #tracker fanfiction

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (4/?)

Part summary: Getting to know Leigh Shaw comes with some hardships—literally.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 4.600 | Warnings/Tags: Pining | A/N: Still haven't decided how many parts will there be, but for now, enjoy reader's POV as her interest in Leigh grows :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Next

For some reason, you keep saying yes to Leigh Shaw.

Yes to providing your veterinary services for her.

Yes to divulging the private aspects of your relationship with Matt.

Yes to staying in her yoga class.

Yes to running very early in the morning, with a lung-busting pace that leaves you dehydrated and feeling queasy by the end of it.

As if to add insult to injury, Leigh Shaw doubles back to where you're lagging behind, barely hanging on for dear life. She flashes that cheeky grin, says, “Try to keep up,” and takes off again like it's nothing. You're left gasping for air, your heart screaming in agony as you attempt to match her pace, but Leigh's already a blur ahead.

She was right—your endurance is really nowhere to be seen. It's in these moments, as you're pushing past what you thought were your limits, that you start to get why Leigh's both a pain and a push that was kind of missing before in your life.

Leigh eventually vanishes around a corner, and consequently, you lose sight of her. You dig deep, pushing yourself to keep going, refusing to quit out of stubbornness and curiosity of what your body could do. By some miracle, you make it to the finish line, which turns out to be that park you've been to only once before with Matt. He had made it a special day with sandwiches and comics, while you got lost in a book he swore you’d love. You can’t shake off the feeling that this place is significant for Leigh and Matt too.

When you finally stumble in, there's Leigh, chilling on the grass, looking like she's lost in thought, her eyes dark with something you can't quite put your finger on. But then she spots you, and it's like someone flipped a switch. She’s back to the flippant Leigh—easygoing, as if nothing’s amiss.

“Was half expecting to find you passed out somewhere back there,” Leigh smirks up at you.

You can’t help but flop down next to her, letting the sun beat down on your face, feeling every bit of your skin that's exposed soaking up the warmth. Thirst claws at your throat, fierce and unforgiving. Gathering the little energy you have left, you manage to ask, “How long have you been waiting?”

Leigh glances at you, her casual ease belying the brief glimpse of concern you thought you'd seen earlier. “Oh, about five minutes,” she says, her tone light, as if the grueling run was nothing more than a leisurely stroll for her.

You pant out, “Why are you so fast, anyway?”

Leigh bursts into laughter, finding your question absurdly funny. “Fast? Me? That's hardly competitive speed, you're just... completely out of shape.”

You pout, feeling slightly offended but too exhausted to argue. Stretching out beside her, you let out a series of groans and pops, feeling your muscles protest and then slowly relax. “Feels like I'm a hundred years old,” you mutter with a heavy sigh.

Still chuckling, Leigh shakes her head. “I've been running for three years now. It's more of a hobby, really, but I need to stay active for my job at the Beautiful Beast. Or my mom will fire me.”

“Your family owns that place?”

Leigh corrects you quickly, “Not my family, just my mom. And being the owner's daughter doesn't give me a pass to slack off. I can't afford to be terrible at my job.”

Her distinction between “my family” and “my mom” sticks with you. It seems like a clue into her family dynamics. In the short time you've known her, Leigh comes across as straightforward, genuinely helpful, and yes, perhaps a bit quick-tempered, but overall...she's okay.

More than okay, actually. She must be incredible to those she truly cares about. So, what went wrong with her and Matt? How could he betray her like that? It’s even more baffling when you remember Leigh saying they were trying for a baby. That detail still turns your stomach, and you're endlessly grateful you never went down that path with him, despite once wishing things had gone differently.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't realize how intently you've been staring at Leigh until she calls you out on it. “What is it?” she asks, her voice pulling you back to the present.

Flustered, you find yourself asking the question that's been simmering in your mind, since you first pulled on your sneakers for that 5k this morning. “Why'd you bring me along for your run? Why are you even helping me?”

Leigh just gives an offhand shrug, says, “Well, you didn't have to show up, so you're actually helping yourself.”

“Fair enough,” you reply, but can't shake off a bit of disappointment. The truth is, you were hoping she'd say something that suggested she was up for being friends, or at least saw you as more than just another client of hers.

It's weird, really, why you keep wanting to be friends with Leigh Shaw.

Suddenly, Leigh glances at her watch and looks up at you. “Ready to go?” she asks, a bit impatiently.

“If I can still walk after this, sure,” you say, half-joking, half-serious, feeling the effects of the run in every muscle.

Leigh laughs at that, a genuine, hearty laugh that lights up her face. It's a sound that's real and unguarded, making you think that maybe, becoming friends with her isn't such a far-fetched idea after all.

Yoga sessions with Leigh stick to the script you first stumbled into. She's all business, only really tossing you a nod or a word when your form goes sideways. “Shoulders down, back straight,” she corrects you, her voice firm, yet not unkind. Outside of that, you might as well blend into the walls for all the personal attention she gives, just like anyone else there. Everyone gets the same treatment—tough love, dished out in equal measure.

Despite her imposing presence, there's something else, a depth to her that often seems just out of reach. You catch her sometimes, looking out the window with a distant gaze. But then she blinks, shakes it off, and is back, fully attentive and ready to guide the next pose.

“Focus on your breathing,” Leigh's voice snaps you out of your focus on her. “Inhale deeply, and as you exhale, sink deeper into the pose.”

Determined to excel, you pour all your effort into being the student Leigh doesn’t need to worry about. Ironically, your diligence only seems to make you more invisible to her. As you master the poses with less need for correction, Leigh's interactions with you dwindle further.

After class, you toy with the idea of approaching her. Maybe get some feedback, or even suggest grabbing dinner together so you don't have to eat alone. But as you're putting together what to say, you notice Leigh seems in a hurry. She exchanges a few quick words with another instructor who's just arrived, and before you can decide, she's excusing herself and heading out.

The moment to ask her has slipped away, leaving you to pack your yoga mat with a resigned sigh.

Another time, then, you think.

The next day, without another invite from Leigh for a run, you lace up your shoes and follow the same route you and Leigh took together. Just 20 minutes into the run, the solo effort feels more like a chore than the engaging challenge it was with company. You loop the route four times, hoping maybe to cross paths with Leigh purely by coincidence, but she’s nowhere to be found.

The studio had announced last night that Leigh’s yoga classes would be temporarily led by a different teacher, with her expected to return next week. This bit of news leaves you mulling about her absence, kind of hoping you might accidentally run into her to find out more. But as the week goes by without any such encounters, you realize you actually know very little about her daily routines or habits. Despite the nagging curiosity, you refrain from texting her, not wanting to intrude or anything.

Admittedly, your motivation to work out dipped slightly without Leigh being part of it.

When you finally talk yourself into visiting Matt’s grave, you do so just minutes before it could get really dark. You've chosen this time deliberately, betting on the common fear that keeps most people away from cemeteries as night approaches.

Your main concern isn't the general public, though; it's just Leigh. Past experiences have shown that encounters with her can happen unexpectedly and in the most random of places—like that night at the club when she ended up getting sick just a few inches away from you. You're not here out of a longing for Matt. Instead, you aim to properly close this chapter of your life, hoping to do so without running into his widow and giving her the wrong impression.

The air holds a chill that wasn't there when you left home, making you wrap your jacket tighter around yourself. It’s quiet, just the sound of your own footsteps crunching softly on the path. Being here as the day turns to night, watching shadows stretch out long and skinny, really gets you thinking about life, death, and everything else in-between. Maybe that's also why people avoid this place—it sort of forces you to face the music, making you curious if all the things you're wrapped up in are actually important or utterly pointless.

As for you, you haven't quite figured out where you stand on that yet. Lately, you've really come into your own in your career, especially now that you’re seeing the profits steadily rising each month. But that sense of achievement fades each evening as you return to your empty apartment. It's just you, night after night, pushing through the grind, pouring everything into your job. Yet, when you try to envision where you'll be in five years from now, the picture isn't clear. Will you be settling down with someone, or just picking up the pieces from another relationship that’s gone awry?

Finding Matt's grave takes a moment, but when you do, your heart clenches. It’s just a simple stone with his name, the years he was here, and a couple of words(you’re guessing it’s Leigh who wrote them) about him.

You kneel down, the grass cool and slightly damp beneath you, and lay the flowers you've brought on his grave. They look kind of bright against the dimming light. Like hope.

“Hey Matt,” you say, stepping into a silence that feels like it's hanging around, just waiting for you to fill it. Talking to a dead person feels ridiculous like they do in the movies, but it's not like anyone's around to hear you.

“You know, I met Leigh,” you begin. “Your wife you conveniently forgot to mention when you were busy asking me out.”

There's a sour edge to your voice, airing grievances to a guy who can't throw back excuses anymore. You can't help but chuckle, though it's more bitter than amused. You let your thoughts more freely now, like the barrier between you and Matt has thinned out with the honesty.

“Leigh is… beautiful, you know? Not in that runway or social media kind of way, but in a manner that's hard to just overlook.”

You could list a dozen more positive things about Leigh to tell Matt, but he already knew all that, didn't he?

“The first time I met her, I felt small, maybe even insecure. And now?” you shake your head, smiling slightly. “...I still do. But mostly, I'm just left thinking…” You pause. The next thought isn't really for Matt, not anymore.

It’s for you.

“I just can't wrap my head around why you'd want to be with me when you had her. I feel like the murder weapon that's trying to seek justice for its victim.” You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Not a great spot to be in, honestly. Makes me feel kind of helpless, you know?"

Sitting back, you take a moment, just looking at the headstone, at the name etched into the granite. The conversation, if you can call it that, feels like it's shifted something inside you. Not closure, exactly, but maybe the first step towards understanding—or at least accepting—that some things just don't make sense.

Standing up, you dust off your knees, taking one last look at the grave. “Anyway, Matt, I hope you've found peace. It looks like we're all searching for a little of that ourselves. Thanks for the book suggestions. Though, you might be a bit disappointed to hear Agatha Christie remains my top favorite.”

As you walk away from Matt's grave, it feels as though you're leaving a piece of yourself behind to rest with him. You decide then, as the cemetery gate closes behind you with a gentle click, that you won't let this page in your book define you. Maybe tomorrow, you'll try a new coffee shop, or take a different route to work. Small changes, but important ones.

Maybe you’ll even try that spin class that scares you so.

“Since when did you start living at the gym?” Suzie teases you from her spot across the desk, that signature playful, all-knowing arch to her eyebrow.

Suzie, who had originally come on board as a receptionist at your vet clinic with little more than enthusiasm and a genuine love for animals to her name, had quickly become much more than just a staff member. Her lack of relevant experience was initially a concern, but her dedication and the way she connected with both the animals and their owners made it clear she was a perfect fit. Over time, she evolved from being just the receptionist to a friend.

A friend who seems to enjoy teasing you, though.

“First off, it’s hardly the gym. It’s this fitness class I’ve been trying out—big distinction,” you clarify, eyes glued on your phone. The last half hour has been a slow crawl towards 5 PM, the magical hour when you can finally shut down and head to Leigh’s class at Beautiful Beast.

“Tomatoes, to-mah-toes,” she quips.

“Not the same thing,” you insist, still not fully engaged in the conversation, your focus on a food article you're reading.

Suzie just waves her hand dismissively. “Semantics. But seriously, you've been really into whatever this is. There's gotta be a guy making those sweat sessions worth it.”

You can't help but laugh, the idea so off base it circles back to being hilarious.

“Trust me, the allure isn't the sweat. It's those endorphins,” you say.

“Yeah, sure,” she drawls, unconvinced. “Come on. Who is it? I know you're not this amped to be all gross and sweaty for nothing.”

“There's no guy, Suzie.” Then, as if the thought just occurred to you, you add, “Or girl. But honestly, there's really no one.”

At that, Suzie's expression shifts from playful teasing to one of pleasant surprise and a touch of mock offense. “Hold up, you might be into girls? And here I was, shooting my shot in the dark this whole time!”

Your ears burn red at her blunt flirtation. “Suzie, come on,” you stammer.

“If I had known that was on the table, I would’ve upped my game ages ago,” she says, her wink sending your face from warm to inferno.

“You’re impossible,” you manage to say as you hurry to collect your things, ready to rush out the door.

“Impossibly into you,” she retorts saucily.

“I’m gonna have to fire you, you know,” you mutter jokingly, glancing at your watch. “Gotta run, bye!”

“Just so we're clear, the offer stands,” she adds, still grinning.

You feel a sense of relief seeing Leigh back in class.

Though the website clearly stated her schedule, you found yourself on edge until you could see Leigh with your own eyes. There's nothing noticeably different about her; Leigh seems just as composed and in control as ever. When she catches you looking, she offers a small, somewhat dismissive smile before turning her attention elsewhere.

You spend the whole session with your energy dialed up, partly because Leigh's presence just does that, and partly because you're already plotting. As soon as she calls time on the session, you're practically springing into action. Your belongings—a water bottle, towel, and the rest—land in a haphazard pile on the floor as you quickly stand up, eager to catch her before she disappears. You make your way toward her, determined not to let her slip away this time.

Leigh's busy packing up her own gear, her back to you as you close the distance. “Hey, Leigh,” you say, and it sounds like you've got this under control, even if your heart's hammering away in your chest. She turns, and there's a flicker of surprise in her expression. You’re hoping it’s the good kind of surprise.

“I'm really glad you're back,” you push on, hoping it doesn't sound as clumsy to her as it does in your head.

She takes a swig from her water bottle, giving you a once-over, and then says, “Thanks. Do you need anything?” There's an expectant look in her eyes, and in that moment, your confidence begins to wane, melting under her gaze. You're on the spot, scrambling for words, any words that don't involve asking her out for dinner, which suddenly seems like an insurmountable task.

“Uh, actually,” you start, your mind racing to find a safe topic, “I was wondering if you had any tips on improving my form?”

Leigh's expression softens, and she nods, setting her water bottle down. “Sure, I can show you a few things. Let's go back to the mats,” she suggests, leading the way. Despite feeling like your tank is on empty and your body crying for hydration, backing down doesn’t feel like an option.

Not when Leigh is already spreading her mat next to yours. She does so with a sort of blasé authority, and you can't help but think how this is Leigh all over—straight to the point, no fuss. You're tired, sure, and a part of you is suggesting that you're about to make a fool of yourself with your shaky legs and probably even shakier form. But then, Leigh starts talking, pointing out where you're going wrong and how to fix it, and suddenly, you're not thinking about dinner anymore. You’re too distracted now by the smell of her perfume mixed with the scent of her sweat.

The next few minutes turn into what feels like a whole new session under Leigh's watchful eyes. She's on you about everything—the angle of your arm, the set of your shoulders, even the way you're distributing your weight on your feet. Leigh's not mean about it, but she doesn't let anything slide. You're just trying to keep up, watching her move with that easy confidence. It's mesmerizing, really, how she can make something so complex look so simple.

By the time you're done, your muscles are burning, your breath is ragged, and you're pretty sure you've sweated out every last drop of water in your body. As you lie there, staring at the ceiling and asking yourself how a ten-minute guidance turned into an even harder session, you mentally kick yourself for not just admitting you wanted company for dinner. It was right there, and you were too scared to be rejected.

But why? Considering everything that's happened and the circumstances, Leigh turning you down seems like the more probable outcome anyway.

And then Leigh does something totally offbeat. She glances at the clock, then back at you, and out of nowhere, she's asking, “Want to grab something to eat?”

It's so unexpected, that for a moment, you're sure you misheard her. But Leigh's waiting for an answer, a slight smile playing on her lips, and suddenly, the fatigue feels a little less overwhelming. You sit up, a slow grin spreading across your face as you realize this is it—your chance, handed to you when you least expected it.

“Yeah,” you finally manage to say, almost tripping over your tongue. “Yeah, that'd be great.”

When Leigh mentioned grabbing something to eat, you expected a sit-down at some cozy restaurant serving healthy food. Instead, she pulls into the drive-thru of a fast-food joint, orders a mountain of fries and a couple of burgers, and parks the car in a secluded spot overlooking the city. It's laid-back, unpolished, and honestly, pretty perfect.

“So, how long have you been in town?” Leigh asks as she hands you a burger, the city lights twinkling below like a scattered deck of glowing cards.

“Just over a year,” you reply, taking a hearty bite of your burger. “Moved here for the business opportunity, but it’s been... you know, slow on the social front.”

Leigh nods, understandingly. “It can be tough, starting fresh somewhere. This place isn't the friendliest to newcomers.”

Your eyebrow lifts, curious whether she's speaking from her own experiences or perhaps someone else's.

“Yeah, most of my socializing happens online these days. My closest friends are scattered across different states,” you say.

Leigh just hums a bit, not really adding anything else. She doesn't go into details about her own friends, so you're left trying to think of something else to talk about. But everything that comes to mind feels too personal, like asking why she wasn't at the Beautiful Beast for a week, how she's dealing with being a widow, or questions about her family.

Small talk isn't really your thing, so the conversation fizzles out from here. Both of you just end up staring out at the city lights in silence. Leigh seems comfortable with it though, so you decide to just go with it and savor the quiet moment too.

After a while, Leigh breaks the silence. “I didn't think I'd be able to love another dog after Rogue,” she shares, not taking her eyes off the cityscape. “Matt and I had to put her down because she was sick. It was brutal. I swore off dogs after that.”

You look over at her and offer a soft, “I'm sorry.”

But there's no trace of sadness on her face. It’s so nonchalant, almost as if she’s just talking about the weather and not a painful memory.

“But then...I saw Visitor,” she goes on, a small smile cracking through. “I just knew he needed me. And, this might sound odd, but I realized I wanted to feel needed. When Matt—” She stumbles over his name, a rare falter, but she's quick to brush it off. “When he died, nobody needed me. And I struggled with that. Because being needed felt like a purpose.”

The idea of needing to be needed isn't something you've ever considered. Truth is, you've never really needed anyone. You've been a solo act for as long as you can remember, handling things on your own, relying solely on your own capabilities. And so, that also meant you couldn't imagine being on the other side of the spectrum—being needed by someone.

However, there's a part of you, unexpectedly, that feels a twinge of jealousy towards Leigh. To truly experience loss, there first has to be something meaningful to lose. You're not sure you've ever let yourself have that kind of bond with anyone. Not yet, anyway. It's a sobering thought, making you think about what you might be missing out on.

Leigh notices you're not saying much and says, “I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. I'm sorry.”

You shake your head slightly, “It's okay. I just... I don't think I've ever been in your shoes.”

Leigh looks a bit puzzled. “What do you mean? Are you talking about the dog thing, or…?”

“The other thing,” you clarify.

Leigh smirks. “Oh, I wish I was like that.”

You quickly realize how arrogant that must have sounded, so you rush to explain, “No, I'm not trying to brag or anything. It's just, I guess I've never really opened myself up to that kind of bond.”

“Not even with Matt?” she asks, and there it is—the topic of Matt you've been tiptoeing around. You're suddenly aware that Matt's shadow is something you'll have to get used to, just as Leigh apparently has, given the unceremonious way she alludes to your almost-affair with her late husband.

“No,” you whisper, looking straight into Leigh's eyes, hoping she’ll believe you. “We never needed each other like that.”

Leigh's eyes linger on yours a moment longer before she looks away. Eager to change the subject, you add, “Must've been rough, giving Visitor back to his real family.”

“Yeah. I mean, I shouldn't be, right? But part of me was actually angry at them for letting him get away like that. He could've been hit by a car or worse, all because they weren't careful. But at the end of the day,” she stops, a sigh escaping her, and that smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes comes back as she looks at you again. “He’s not mine.”

“Visitor really snuck into your heart, didn’t he?”

Leigh nods. “I wasn't expecting to care that much, you know?” Then, she offers a small, reflective chuckle. “Makes you think about the connections we allow ourselves to have, and the ones we avoid, doesn't it?”

You try to gauge whether she's still talking about Visitor while also trying to figure out where you stand—the connections she's chosen or the ones she sidesteps? Before you find the courage to ask, Leigh starts the car and presses down on the clutch, ready to switch gears.

“I need to head back to the studio, so I can only drop you off somewhere on the way,” Leigh says, signaling the end of your time together for now.

You quickly decide that being dropped off at the studio is fine. “The Beautiful Beast works for me,” you reply, hoping to extend the time you have left with her, even if it's just by a few minutes.

The ride is quiet, the earlier ease replaced by a thoughtful silence. You're watching her, the way she's all eyes on the road but clearly lost in her head. Leigh, as you’ve noticed, is someone hard to get to open up, her walls built high and strong. She's this fortress of a person, but tonight felt different, like she accidentally left a window open and you caught a glimpse inside.

It just makes you crave for more.

As the studio comes into view, it feels like you've both made some progress with Leigh and yet, somehow, not made any at all. Stepping out of the car, you’re met by Jules, another staff member at the Beautiful Beast whom you've heard Leigh refer to numerous times, approaches. You barely catch her saying, “Danny is waiting for you inside,” to Leigh. You miss the frown on Jules's face or how Leigh instantly seems on edge.

“Thanks for the ride—and for dinner,” you say, feeling a bit out of place now.

“Don't get used to it,” she says, the corners of her lips twisting into a reluctant smile. “Was nice talking, though. Thanks for not making it weird.”

As she's quickly pulled away by whatever's going on inside, you hover for a second, debating if you should go in for a goodbye hug. But before you know it, Leigh is tossing a quick “Bye” in your direction as she strides towards the studio.

You're left there, floating in the aftermath, wondering about everything and nothing all at once.

347 notes · View notes

pamwritessometimes · 6 months ago

Text

Tuesday’s Gone — Chapter 9

Russell Shaw x Reader

Warnings: angsty SMUT (MDNI), some fluff, domestic Russell deserves a warning, VW Beetle-shaming (yep, it’s real)

A/N: Hey, loves. I know I've been pretty absent here, and just a little fyi; my lack of responses aren't coming from a place of ignorance. I’ve been grappling with my mental health for a while now, and right now, I'm at the bottom of the rollercoaster. But don’t worry, I’m working my way back up, just like any sane person would do: with dying my hair red. No, seriously. I’m writing this with red dye in my hair. Alright, jokes aside, I really am getting there, bit by bit. Also, I'll get to reply to everyone eventually. Thank you for your patience, ily all!! 🤍💖

A/N 2.0: Oh, btw, we’re here, folks! Jumping (almost) straight into the smut. Hope you’re ready to enjoy every steamy minute of it – because trust me, it’s a bit on the longer side. Enjoy! 😏

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Catch up on Chapter 8 here

Tuesday's Gone masterlist

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The morning sun beamed in through the living room curtains, casting long stripes of light on the floor carpet as you stood, nervously drumming with your leg. It was Emma’s first day back at kindergarten since the whole kidnapping ordeal – an event you now refer to simply as “the Rourke incident.” You weren’t entirely sure she was ready, but her psychiatrist, who’d been meeting with her twice a week, had insisted it was best to get her back to normal life as soon as possible.

Two months. That’s how long it had been since everything went sideways, and since Russell had worked his way back into your life. Healing had been slow, but definitely steady.

“Come on!” Russell’s irritated voice cut through the quiet. He was out in the yard, wrestling with your car, which had apparently chosen today to stage a rebellion by refusing to start. Emma, already anxious about facing her mates again after so much time away, didn’t need this kind of drama. Neither did you, to be frank.

You glanced down at yourself for the hundredth time, brushing nonexistent lint off your blazer. It had been ages since you’d worn anything like this – at least it felt like it. The kind of outfit that screamed Yes, I’m totally put together, even if you weren’t quite there yet.

Your first day back at work as a project manager after everything. Two months of juggling nightmares, therapy appointments, and figuring out how to co-parent with Russell, who, by the way, had unofficially moved into your house, claiming the couch, meaning, he ditched whatever motel he was residing in before. To be fair, you were the one to offer it to him. He was practically living here 24/7 anyway.

At least this wasn’t a real workday, not yet. Just a soft launch. Your boss, who’d been more than understanding (hard not to be when your life-or-death situation made the news), suggested you start with half-days for the next two weeks. A gentle easing back into the chaos, he called it.

You called it a godsend and said yes before he could change his mind.

Today wasn’t about deadlines or meetings. It was about relearning what normal was supposed to feel like.

And this morning was serving up all the normal it could muster.

“Is it ready yet?” you called through the open window, your tone between hopeful and pleading.

Russell stood up from under the hood, wiping his hands on a rag that must have been white once. A streak of grease marked his jaw.

“Almost there” he muttered. “Damn thing’s stubborn as a mule.”

“Stubborn like its mechanic” you quipped, earning yourself a mock glare. He ducked back under the hood, muttering something you didn’t catch but hearing the faint chuckle at the end.

Emma darted into the living room, her ridicolously huge backpack bouncing on her shoulders.

“Are we going to be late?” she asked and you could hear the worry in her voice.

“Nope, Daddy’s got it handled” you said, channeling every ounce of fake confidence you had.

Truthfully, you didn’t want to be late either.

“Alright” Russell called, slamming the hood shut. “She’s good to go.”

He shot you a thumbs-up before opening the driver’s door and sliding in to test the ignition. The engine roared to life and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“See? Told you” you said to Emma, giving her a quick hug before letting her scramble into the backseat. You followed suit, sliding into the front passenger seat.

“I still don’t get why we couldn’t just take my car” he said, nodding toward his Chevy parked smugly beside your Beetle. “And honestly, I look ridiculous in this chick-jalopy.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offence.

“First of all, it’s not a chick-jalopy. It’s reliable, it’s efficient, and Emma loves it. Also, it’s cute,” you said, punctuating your point by wiping the grease off his jaw with a tissue.

“Cute, my a–”

He caught himself just in time.

Emma groaned dramatically from the back. “Can we please go? I don’t wanna be late!”

“Alright, boss lady. Bubble Buggy, away!” Russell declared, throwing the car into gear and earning a playful glare from you.

And with that, your little circus hit the road.

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The drop-off went surprisingly well. Emma, clutching her Veterinarian Barbie, marched into the classroom with a nervous determination that made your chest swell with pride. Russell had insisted on coming along, too – not that you were surprised. He’d been a constant in her life these past couple of months, and Emma seemed to soak up his presence like a little sunflower.

As the three of you walked toward the building, you bent down and pulled her into a quick hug, whispering a few last words of encouragement. She nodded solemnly, then turned and practically cannonballed into Russell’s arms.

Watching her cling to him so naturally still took you by surprise.

You never doubted she’d warm up to him – he was her dad, after all. A figure she always asked about, a figure she always wanted. But the way Russell stepped into the role, like he’d been waiting his whole life for this chance? That was something you hadn’t expected. The man who once seemed allergic to responsibility was now the same man who played Barbies, kissed Emma’s scraped knees better, and read her bedtime stories in silly voices that always made her giggle. He didn’t let her leave the house without one of his big bear hugs, and she never wanted to. It was a version of Russell you hadn’t dared to imagine… but here he was, proving you wrong every damn day.

She lingered in his arms for just a second longer, her hands clutching at his shirt.

“You’re gonna crush it, bug” he murmured, his voice soft.

With a reluctant nod, she finally let go, her sense of duty overriding her nerves. She turned and headed inside, her tiny figure disappearing into the colorful chaos of the kindergarten room.

You and Russell stood in the doorway for a moment longer, watching her find her seat. She looked so small, dwarfed by the bright kiddy decorations and the chatter of her mates.

But before you could get too worried, her friends appeared like little magnets, pulling her into a circle of excited hugs. You saw her freeze for half a second, clearly not expecting the ambush, but then she smiled. That big, glowing smile that could light up a whole city block.

“She’s tougher than we give her credit for” Russell said, a touch of pride in his voice.

“She gets it from me” you teased lightly, though your throat tightened as you said it. You yourself didn’t quite believe it.

He chuckled with a warm and familiar sound. “Yeah, that tracks.”

His hand brushed yours as you both turned to leave, and you didn’t pull away.

“Come on” he said with a lopsided grin, tilting his head toward the exit. “I’ve got one more girl to drop off.”

He took your hand in yours and guided you back toward your “Tiara Taxi”. You wondered how many goddamn names he could come up with for that poor car.

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By the time you got home, the house felt… off. Too quiet, to be more precise. You weren’t used to not hearing Emma’s chatter bouncing off the walls.

Kicking off your heels by the door, you loosened your blazer and rolled your shoulders, trying to shake off the weight of the day. The tension melted a little when you spotted Russell in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in hand. He was freshly showered, his hair still slightly damp, wearing jeans and that old Cream T-shirt, the one he wore the day you met him at the diner you used to work at. It had more holes than fabric now, but somehow it made him look maddeningly hot.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“It was… bearable” you said, reaching for the coffee pot. “Everyone at work looked at me like I was a ghost. Honestly, I felt like one. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure Emma handled her first day better than I handled mine.”

Pouring yourself a cup, you moved to stand beside him, close enough to share the space but not enough to touch.

“Thanks for fixing the car this morning” you said, giving him a quick sidelong glance. “I can’t even imagine the meltdown we’d have had if we’d been late.”

He grinned, his eyes staying on you a beat too long, despite the teasing tone in his voice.

“I’ll fix that Cupcake Cruiser anytime.”

And there it was again – that unspoken something that had been simmering between you two for weeks. It filled the space between every casual brush of your arms, every shared smirk. Ever since that kiss, the tension had been building, stopping only at the occasional soft kisses, lingering touches, or the way his hand would find yours without a word.

You weren’t imagining it, and you definitely weren’t immune to it. If anything, it was getting harder to pretend it wasn’t there.

“I should change” you said, your voice a little shaky as you pointed vaguely at your blazer, like that was the problem.

“You look good” he blurted out, almost before he realized it. His ears went red, but he didn’t backpedal. “I mean… you always look good, but this… this is…” His gaze slid over you like he was taking in a masterpiece, and your pulse picked up in response.

“Russ…” you started, but he took a step closer. Close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him like a furnace.

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line” he murmured, his voice rougher than usual, like it took everything he had to keep it calm.

“You’re not” you whispered.

That was all the permission he needed. His hands slid around your waist, tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away. But when you didn’t, he closed the gap between you, kissing you like a madman. It was urgent, messy, and desperate, the kind of kiss that made you forget where you were or what you were supposed to be doing.

It was frantic and just so different from the soft kisses before.

His hands slid up your back, pulling you as close as your bodies physically allowed and you found yourself clutching at his tee like you might fall if you didn’t hold on. Your coffee, long forgotten, sat cold on the counter behind you, watching the scene unfold silently.

He pulled away just long enough to rest his forehead against yours, breath coming in ragged gasps. His highly delirious eyes searched yours, silently asking if you felt it too, the same thing pulsing between you two.

You did.

You felt it in your bones, and it was undeniable.

Without a word, he kissed you again, but this time, slower, more like he had all the time in the world. He took his sweet time, as if he needed to rediscover every inch of you, like he’d forgotten and now had to make up for lost time. His hands drifted to your waist, your back, tangled in your hair, touching you like you were the only thing that existed in that moment.

And for him, you kind of were.

Before you knew it, you were in the bedroom, your blazer tossed somewhere on the floor along with his t-shirt. The rest of your clothes followed in a blur of fumbling hands and breathless laughter, the weight of the past two months – and the years before that – melting away with every touch.

When he finally had you beneath him, his gaze softened, the intensity giving way to something deeper. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your hands cupping his face. “I’m sure.”

He looked down at you, his long hair brushing your face as you pulled him closer, bringing his lips to yours again. This time, the kiss was a promise: one that said you were sure, you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, now your barely clothed heat just two thin fabrics away from the place where it wants to be – given you both were only in your underwear by then.

He groaned in response, his hands gripping your thighs, stopping you from rubbing yourself against his erection.

“I’ll cream in my boxers if you keep this up.”

You giggled and popped yourself on your elbows. “I’d rather have you cream somewhere else” you said with a mischievous grin.

His laughter was sudden and rich, the kind that came straight from his chest. It was a sound of pure joy and disbelief.

So she’s still freaky, he mentally remarked in delight.

“God, I love you” he murmured, the words spilling out before he even realized he’d said them. He didn’t pause to dwell on his unplanned confession – he kissed you once more, but this time his hand slid to the back of your bra. It took a few clumsy tries, but when it finally gave way, he pushed the lace off your shoulders, letting it fall somewhere forgotten at the edge of the bed.

He pulled away from your lips, taking a moment to admire the view of your perky breasts, the cool air from the AC making your nipples harden from the breeze.

Perfect, just like he remembered.

Without hesitation, he leaned in, pressing soft kisses along the valley of your chest before suckling each nipple, his hand gently massaging the other. The warm, teasing pressure of his mouth sent a shiver through you, drawing out a chorus of soft moans, going straight into his now desperately hard cock, unconsciously rubbing it against the sheets.

Once his mouth had given one of your nipples the attention it deserved, he moved to the other, murmuring, “So soft.”

As your fingers brushed over familiar lines and curves, memories came rushing back like you’d just pressed play on a reel. Your palms glided over his firm chest and carved torso, stopping at the edge of his waistband. The fabric clung to his hips, daring you to go further.

It was surprisingly easy to recollect your memories about the details of him – you could still map the old scars you knew by heart (though there were new ones now), the freckles on his shoulder and chest, the little imperfections of his body you used to love all those years ago.

You seemed even more fascinated by them now.

Soft grunts and groans slipped from his lips as he felt your hands slip into his underwear. The hardness of his dick against your palm sent a rush of wildfire through your veins, feeling how much he still wanted you.

Needed you, really.

But he grabbed your hand, stopping its slow movements over his member.

“Not yet” he murmured, and though it took all his willpower, he pulled your hands out of his underwear, just to lift his head from your chest to start a slow, deliberate trail of wet kisses down your torso. Each kiss felt like a secret he was telling only your skin, moving lower and lower, until he reached the curve of your abdomen.

He paused there, pressing his lips to the spot where your lace panties met your silky skin.

His hands slid down to your hips, his thumbs tracing slow circles over the delicate lace. He glanced up at you, his green eyes still searching for reassurance that you were still on-board with all of this.

You absolutely were.

When the lace finally hit the floor and joined the growing heap of clothes, he didn’t dive right in. Instead, he paused to just look at you, his gaze so intense it made you feel both vulnerable and powerful at once. He was looking at you like you were something sacred.

You couldn’t help it, your mind wandered. Your body wasn’t the same as it had been four years ago, not after the pregnancy. And even though you tried to push the thought away, a flicker of self-doubt crept in. Would he notice? Would it matter?

“God, you’re beautiful” he mumbled, as if reading your mind, before leaning in to press his lips against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen” he added, and the sincerity in his voice sent a flush straight to your weeping pussy, soaking the sheets beneath you. He noticed, loving the effect he had on you. And the best part is: he meant every word. “Nobody compares… nobody.”

His hands stayed firm on your hips, holding you steady as he left a trail of kisses that edged closer and closer to your slick center.

Toe-curlingly teasing.

“Fuck– Russ” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips finally found the spot where you were aching for him most.

His tongue danced around your folds, barely using any pressure at first, licking long stripes just to drive you even wilder. He kept up the slow, teasing pace, looking up at your soft features, until he was sure he’d made you wait long enough. His hands gripped your bent legs, holding you in place, making sure you weren’t going anywhere – not like going away crossed your mind.

“You taste so sweet, baby. Just like I remembered” he murmured, lapping lustfully at your lips.

Your needy, swollen clit ached for his mouth, his touch, anything, really, and it’s just like he heard its plea, he guided his lips to your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking on it gently. The moan that slipped from your lips was louder than you meant it to be, but Russell didn’t seem to care. In fact, if his smirk was anything to go by, he seemed to love it, and just felt even more encouraged to be more and more daring. Bolder. Hungrier.

He devoured you like you were the finest meal he’d ever had, like he’d been starving for years and you were the only thing that could satisfy him.

And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, your body trembling on the precipice, he looked up at you, his face was flushed, his swollen lips and trimmed stubble glistening with your essence, looking absolutely, insanely, unbelievably hot.

"Come on, sweetheart" he murmured against your skin with a voice both rough and encouraging, like he needed this just as much as you did. "Be a good girl and let go f’me."

To help you get over the edge, he slipped one finger inside of you, plunging it in and out of your sloppy hole at a delicious pace.

And just like that, with one final, perfectly timed and placed flick of his tongue, you came undone. Your whole body went taut, and the world blurred for a moment as a white-hot wave of bliss crashed over you and you came over his face. You didn’t have any time to overthink it, be embarrassed about it, since he didn’t stop lapping at your juices, nor the vigorous fingering of your pussy.

He continued until you had nothing more to give, easing you back down with gentle kisses and slowly decreasing strokes. With his tongue still on your sensitive lips, you slowly floated back to reality.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, he was hovering above you.

You could see his expression was somewhere between boyish pride and unshakable devotion.

“Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your damp forehead. “I love seeing you coming undone because of me.”

You were still catching your breath, panting heavily, but you managed to kneel on the bed in front of him. “Let me…”

“No” His hands gently brushed yours away from his waistband, and for a moment, your heart sank.

Did he change his mind? Or worse – did he not want you to please him the way he’d just please you?

Sensing the hurricane of self-doubt flicker across your face, he leaned in with a soft, reassuring smile. “I want this to be about you. Last time… we didn’t exactly finish properly because–”

His words trailed off, but you both knew what he meant. Your last time together more than four years ago…. when that man broke into your home. The gunshot. The way you’d panicked and pushed him away afterward. It was a night neither of you could forget, no matter how much you tried.

“I just… want to make it up to you” he confessed. “For that night. For everything after.”

You felt the weight of his words, the sincerity in his eyes, and the softness in his touch. It wasn’t just about physical pleasure – it was about the things left unsaid, the things neither of you had been able to fix in the aftermath.

You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw as your eyes locked.

“You don’t have to make anything up” you said softly, your words brushing against his lips. “You’re here now. You showed up when it mattered. That’s enough.”

You kissed him, slow and sure, letting him feel every bit of what you meant. The taste of yourself on his lips just fueled the intensity of the moment. Your hands slid back to his boxers, giving the waistband a playful tug. “Now…” you said with a small smirk “let’s get rid of these before I lose my patience.”

He smiled, swallowing a chuckle, before helping you with the rest. His cock sprang free, standing tall and proud against his stomach. The girth and the delicious pattern of veins still managed to take your breath away.

You could still remember how he felt, how he tasted…

As his underwear hit the floor, you both knelt on the bed, your eyes locked before flicking down to his pre-cum-soaked erection.

“Jesus fuck” you exhaled, mouth watering, your hands skimming his waist, summoning the courage to take what you needed.

You wrapped your hand around the base, his member instantly reacting to your touch, accompanied by another strangled moan from his lips. He let you stroke him a little, his breath hitching, before he managed to ask, “Are you still on birth control?”

You froze mid-motion, caught off guard.

“Uh, no” you admitted. “Didn’t exactly work out last time, did it?” you added with a wry smile. It stung a little to say, but it was true. And honestly, you wouldn’t change a thing – not when it meant having Emma.

Russell caught the flicker of bittersweetness in your eyes, his own softening as he started to say, “I’ve got a–“

“Bottom drawer, right side” you cut him off with a smirk, tilting your head toward the nightstand.

A laugh rumbled in his chest as he leaned back, grabbing what he needed.

“You really are always two steps ahead, huh?” he teased, his grin widening as he slipped on the condom.

He was hovering above you, eyes locked, and yet somehow it felt like he was on the other side of the planet.

“Are you… really, absolutely sure?” he asked, his voice a mix of doubt and desperation.

You couldn’t help but giggle again. “Stop asking, Russ. Stop second-guessing yourself.”

He smiled softly at your words and guided himself towards your slick core, the tip already nudging at your entrance. He looked down at you, giving you one last chance to back off before he let himself give in to the desire that’s been building up in him for months now.

You nodded softly, granting him any permission he’d ever asked for. He took a shaky breath, bracing himself for what was about to come.

Then, he eased himself in.

The intrusion was both foreign and familiar at first. He was only half-way in, but he already felt you getting tighter and tighter.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll go slow” he murmured as he soothed your skin on your thighs.

The slick from your previous orgasm helped him bottom out slowly but surely, and once he was fully seated, he let out a long, throaty moan. He stilled for a moment, eyes shut, grabbing into your bent thighs to steady himself.

“Missed you s’much… missed this…” he whispered. “Thought I’d never–“

The words died on his lips.

The rawness of his voice, the desperation, the way he said those words with so much honesty and regret, clutched your heart. You knew he meant it, you knew how much he had been hurting – just like you. But you also couldn't help but feel just as guilty. Most of his pain was caused by you, the way you handled things, the way you’d pushed him away when things got tough, the way you’d shut him out… It was all your doing, just as much as it was his.

Not being able to take the weight of it, you gently cupped his face, guiding him back to look at you.

You looked at him like you were about to say something that weighed on your shoulders for long, something that’ll change everything between the both of you. He sensed it, green irises burning into yours, waiting.

“I love you, too, Russ” you whispered, voice tight with emotion, afraid he might not have heard you right by the look on his face. “I love you” you repeated, louder this time, as if to make sure it was clear, and by the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you, he heard it loud and perfectly clear.

“And I missed you, too” you added.

That was it. That was all he needed to hear. His hips began to move as his lips elicited soft grunts and moans, his hands still holding on to your thighs, bruisingly tight.

“God, sweetheart. Say it–” he grunted, burying himself inside of you, his tip brushing against your deepest parts. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Russell. I think I never really stopped.”

It did it to him. He dived into you like a man on a mission. The tenderness was still there, yet he gave way to something more primal, something almost bestial.

Squelching, lewd noises and moans filled the otherwise quiet room. The pace he was setting wasn’t necessarily brutal, but the way he slammed into you with such precision was almost too perfect to handle.

Your otherwise sensitive bundle of nerves screamed as he slipped his thumb on them, applying just the right amount of pressure.

You could feel how close you were. Hell, he could feel how close you were. The way your walls tightened and how you could barely hold your moans were a pretty good indication of what was about to come. Literally.

“Fuck- Russ” you moaned as he began to increase the pace of his thrusts, his fingers still rubbing on your clit.

“I know…” he panted, “I know… I’m- I’m getting close, too. But I need to feel you comin’ around me, sweetheart. You can let go, baby. Then I’ll fill you up good.”

His own voice was strangled, barely holding on, but the urge to make you reach it first was still stronger.

“Let go f’me, pretty girl” he instructed, rubbing your clit just a bit harder.

The coil finally snapped in your stomach, feeling a sensation you can’t quite remember when you had last.

“There you go. Such a good girl. Such a perfect girl. God, how I love it when you do this” he moaned and felt his cock twitch buried deep in your velvety walls. He looked down at your joint bodies and saw his dick laced with your essence, forming a creamy ring at the base. The sight itself was the thing to push over the edge.

He came with a groan, burying himself inside of you, his thighs and body going taut while he tried not to collapse on top of you. His member was suffocating in the confines of the condom, his seed still loading the rubber.

He didn’t want to move. Neither did you. The only sound of the room was your tangled breaths and the intense pounding of your hearts. He let himself lower himself once his eyes dared to creak open, finding your eyes still busking in the afterglow.

“Are you okay? Was I too rough? Didn’t I—”

You cut him off with a gentle, breathless laugh, fingers brushing his chest as you tried to make sense of the way your heart was pounding, both from the intensity of the moment and the unexpected peace that followed it.

“Russ… I’m okay. Great, actually” You smiled, your voice soft.

His brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of relief flashing through his eyes, followed by that familiar teasing grin. “Huh… You got me worried a bit. I’ve got worried it was post-but clarity on your face.”

“No post-nut clarity here. Just... clarity”

He smiled softly at that, then slowly pulled out of you and removed the piece of plastic, tossing it into the bin.

For a moment, he just froze, unsure of what to do next. Would it be too much to hold you? Was that stepping into too much territory?

You gave him a sleepy, amused look. “Come on” you mumbled, your voice low and slightly hoarse. “You’ve just fucked the wind out of me. You think I’d kick you out of my bed afterward?”

He laughed, the tension easing out of his shoulders. "Fair point. I just… wasn’t sure if you’d want me to stay.”

You shifted a little, making space for him beside you, your gaze soft. “Of course I do”

And so, you both just lay there. The room was quiet, the only sound your breaths slowly syncing. The space between you felt right, like it had always belonged to both of you, and the warmth of his body next to yours felt oddly familiar. Like it had always been meant to be this way.

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, the rhythm of each other’s breath comforting. And for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to just be. Because you wasted way too much time already, and you won’t make the same mistake twice.

So, it was just you, and it was just him, and the world felt right again.

This was home.

Then, your phone’s alarm went off, pulling you back to reality with an almost comical jolt. You groaned softly, smiling faintly at the disruption. You climbed out of bed, the soft tug of the sheets falling off your body as you rose. “Come on” you said with a small smile. “We have to pick up our daughter.”

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

Next on Tuesday's Gone (Sneak Peek from Chapter 10, aka the Epologue)

The building the dog was charging toward was a big, brick beauty, with towering windows and a brand-new sign hanging proudly above the door. It was the final product of an ongoing battle of bad brewery name ideas between you and Russell.

You’d pitched some real gems like Hop Notch Brewery, Sweet Foam Idaho, and Shawbusiness. You also reminded him of your previous, brilliant suggestions. You were obviously just having fun, knowing it was Russell’s dream project.

“I’m just trying to help!” you exclaimed playfully.

But still – Shawstopper was practically genius, right?

He, of course, was more into traditional names like Shaw & Co Brewery or Shawcraft.

But then… you pitched the one name that made him crack. One that he absolutely hated. Hated it so much that, for some bizarre reason, he thought it was twistedly brilliant. So, here you were, standing beneath the freshly hung sign above the front door of…

“Shawshank Brewdemption” Emma read out loud, brows furrowed. “I don’t understand!”

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

They’re home. It feels so good to finally say that. I can’t wait to share the last chapter with you all soon.

And of course, happy holidays to everyone!

xx Pam

Read Chapter 10 here

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#russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw fanfic #russell shaw #tracker fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles smut #russell shaw smut

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waynes-multiverse · 4 months ago

Text

The Exit Strategy – Part 4

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, fluff, some angst & feels, family secrets, spy stuff, a bit of spiciness

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Welcome back, friends! We're diving a bit into Shaw family secrets this week – fully Wayne's version, though. While I did read the books, there's no major spoilers**, so don't you worry. I just played with an idea here 🤓 I also won't be fully diving into the Shaw family life, but some things are heavily hinted to be... fishy here 👀 Enjoy & let me know what you think! 🤍

**There's a small part where Russell tells Colter about their parents. It's mentioned in the books that their mother was a psychiatrist. I took that and ran with it 🤷‍♀️

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 4: This Is Not an Exit

“You’ve been walking down memory lane a lot tonight,” you teased with a nudge of his ribs, still tightly cuddled in his warm embrace in the freezing basement.

“Haven’t you?”

“No, I have,” you admitted with a melancholic sigh. “Maybe we should stop dwelling on the past so much. Think more about the future…”

Russell scoffed a small chuckle. “Dory said something similar not that long ago. Actually the reason why I came here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, his fingers absently drawing circles on your arm. “I think it’s time we retire, sweetheart. I mean, after everything we’ve been through, I think we deserve to, right? You know, sometimes I wake up in the morning, and I’m surprised we’re even still here, considering how many war zones we’ve been in.”

“Well, you know what they say – beware the old soldier because he’s old for a reason,” you said with a smile.

“Yeah, think I might be getting a little too old…” Russell chucked lightly, running a hand through his long hair. “So? What d’you think? One last hurrah, and then we hang this up? I was thinking maybe we could open up a brewery, you know? A family place. Bet the kids would love it.”

“Sounds nice,” you said with a yearning smile. You wanted all of that and more. “I’d love to retire with you.”

“But?”

You laughed slightly at his anticipating look. “But I don’t think you can yet.”

His eyebrows drew together till they met above the bridge of his freckled nose. “What d’you mean? I just told you I’m ready.”

“You say you are, but you aren’t,” you replied like the annoying Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Have you solved the murder yet?”

Russell licked his lips, which was his telltale sign that you caught him there. After all, you knew him better than anyone in this world – knowing when he needed to be pushed and shoved was part of it.

“No, but I don’t need to anymore. Look, the only reason I wanted to solve it was because I thought I had to prove my innocence to Colter. And well, turns out I didn’t. He believed me anyways, so…”

“That wasn’t the only reason,” you reminded him with a scrutinizing look.

“Maybe, but like I said – Dory thinks we should keep all this bullshit in the past, and after the last three years, I’m starting to agree with her,” Russell said, dragging a hand over his face.

“Look, if that’s what you want–”

“It’s what I want,” he assured you and placed a hand on your thigh, gently squeezing it. “Having my little brother and sister back is enough. I don’t need more. Nothing good ever comes from being greedy.”

You nodded in understanding, clearing your throat. “Still, in the name of our deal to always be honest, I kinda have to confess something.”

Rising from your seat, you dusted off your awful, flowery skirt and wandered to the wall safe once more, retrieving a thick folder from it. You took your place next to Russell again, his questioning eyes meeting yours as you handed him your research.

“When you didn’t come back after a year or so, I started looking into it as well. Might have done a full deep-dive,” you admitted with a bite of your lip.

Russell shot you a chiding look, shaking his head, but most of all, he was worried. “I told you to leave it alone. You don’t know what sorta people we’re dealing with here, but we do know they’re dangerous.”

“I know. I just wanted to help. Figured I could speed it along. I do have more access than you,” you countered softly. “I’m sorry, okay? But I was careful. I promise.”

“Good,” he said and looked at you, interlacing your fingers with his. “‘Cause the last thing I want is losing you over this bullshit, too.”

Nodding, you squeezed his hand in reassurance. “There’s something you should know, though.” He raised his brow anew – you’d always been full of surprises. Life certainly had never been boring. “Someone accessed the files after me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Definitely had a higher clearance than me, though,” you replied.

Russell threw his arms up, and you could see he was getting more upset again. “See? This is what I’m talking about! The whole point of us separating was to keep you and the kids away from it. Otherwise, we could’ve just stayed together, and I could’ve joined Horizon anyways.”

“I know that, too,” you said remorsefully. “But don’t worry. I wasn’t followed, and no one ever came after me. I made sure of it. It’s been two years now. They probably figured it was nothing after I didn’t reach out to you straight away.”

“Still… I don’t want you involved, alright?”

“What about Colter? Doesn’t he want to know? He doesn’t strike me as someone who just lets things go,” you noted observantly.

Russell clicked his tongue – a sign of defeat. “He isn’t, but he’s not gonna find anything either. I mean, the only reason I know is because you were so relentless and kept digging.”

“You haven’t told him what we found out?”

Russell licked his lips and admitted quietly, “No. I don’t think it does anyone any good to keep looking into this.”

Leaning forward and hugging your knees, your head bobbed pensively. “I thought you guys talked about what happened?”

“We did. Kinda… It’s complicated,” he stated, swallowing. “Dory was easy, you know? I guess she never really believed it… But it took a while till Colter even picked up the phone, let alone answered a goddamn text message. Had to get a little annoying.”

You smirked. “Well, you’re good at that. That’s how you won me over.”

“By being persistent?”

“Exactly. Like a tardigrade.” You grinned. “I mean, you kind of are doing it now again, too.”

He chuckled quietly. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Is that why you haven’t told him about me and the kids? Because you’re not sure about him yet?”

“Partially, yeah,” he admitted. “I guess I wanted to protect you. And maybe myself a little, too… Not sure I’m ready for those two worlds to meet yet, you know? I mean, you and the kids are the best things that ever happened to me, and when I look at Colter or Dory, I’m sometimes reminded of the worst things in my life.”

“What about your mother?”

Russell let out an exhaustive sigh that was half amused. “Geez, you haven’t changed a bit. You still ask the most uncomfortable questions possible.”

You laughed a little. “Gathering intelligence in uncomfortable ways is kind of my job, Shaw.”

“Yup, and no one’s better at it than you, sweetheart,” Russell quipped.

“So I’m guessing it’s a no on Mommie Dearest?”

Russell licked his lips, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna see her. Mostly because I don’t even know what to fucking say anymore,” he said. “I don’t want her to meet the kids either.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him and took his hand in yours. “It’s your choice, Russ. We go at your pace, alright?”

“Thank you.” Russell brought your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand before he looked at you deeply, a smile dancing across his plump lips. “I love you.”

You mirrored his smile, your heart fluttering like a wild butterfly in your chest. “I love you, too.”

“I’ll tell them – Dory and Colter. I want this to work,” he promised. “Just… after we finish this. I want him to have a clear head. I prefer not to get him killed, you know?”

“I get it. I thought the same thing when I first met you, too,” you joked, patting his chest. “But you brought him into this. It’s kinda on you.”

Russell scratched his bearded chin. “Yeah, but I didn’t exactly know what I’d bring him into.”

“Didn’t you, though?”

Amused, Russell bobbed his head. “Yeah, maybe I did,” he acknowledged. “You know, when Manny called me–”

Your eyes widened. “Manny called you?”

Russell blinked at you, brow creased in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

“That motherfucker…”

Furiously, you stomped to the desk and grabbed the radio. “Drone-5. This is Queen Bee-1. Report to Hive.”

The static of the radio cracked almost instantly, as if the idiot had been waiting all night for this call. “Yo, Queen Bee-1. How’s my boy?” Manny’s laugh echoed through the basement.

Russell’s glowing cheeks reached his eyes when he heard his friend’s voice. He’d known the guy almost as long as Doug.

“You’re the one who fucking told him?!” you yelled into the radio, almost crushing the device in your hand.

“To be fair, I told him not to engage with tango,” Manny sheepishly replied.

“Ha-ha, funny. Fuck you,” you huffed and tossed Russ the walkie-talkie. He caught it with one hand.

His boyish grin widened as he pushed the button. “You know, Drone-5, you could’ve told me you were actually working this thing.”

“Aw, you know I can’t do that. But I guess congrats on crashing another operation. You’re Worker Bee-3 now. Old habits die hard, huh?” Manny chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess…” Russell replied with a lighthearted chuckle, but his teeth tugged pensively at his lips.

“Great to have you back, brother. Hope this works out for you. See you on the other side, man. Oh, and could you move like three feet to the left and turn the washer off? We can barely hear and see you guys, and Drone-2 just ran out to grab popco–”

“No, absolutely not. Out,” you snapped as you grabbed the radio from Russ. He laughed as you put it furiously back on the desk. You knew what you had signed up for, but you still deserved some privacy. Annoyed, you took off your cross necklace – another bug – and settled down beside him again.

“What did he say when he called you?”

“Nothing much, really. Just told me your coordinates and that you like to pick up your mail at three o’clock at the local post office,” Russell replied.

You shook your head, smiling. “Well, he always loved you, so…” You started to chew on your lower lip, the anxiety in your belly returning. For the sake of your mind and heart, you had to make sure Russell was fully back, and this wasn’t just a fluke. “You know, I worry sometimes that if you don’t face this thing with your family, you’ll always feel this way. I mean, after Lewis was born–”

“I know.” Russell nodded, swallowing thickly. He saw the worry shimmering in your eyes, and it cracked his heart a little. “I know I kinda lost it there. Took me by surprise, too. Trust me. Figured I had dealt with all that shit already, you know? But I guess seeing you with him and feeling all that love myself, I just-… I don’t know. I don’t know how she could do it… Ashton was one thing, but she just stood by. And I don’t even know what the hell she was up to while he took us out into those woods…” He shook his head as if to rattle the answer out of his brain. “And then when we found out you were pregnant again… I mean, I’d barely held it together with Lewis. Everything just became a blur. I couldn’t think straight anymore, and I worried all the time I’d be like them…”

“I tried to help,” you said softly.

“I know you did. Guess this was just something I had to figure out on my own,” he replied with a beat shrug.

“How’s your vision now? Still blurry?”

“Clearer than ever.” A smile flickered alive on his lips, green eyes boring into yours as he leaned in and kissed you slowly like he meant every word. Blowing a raspberry, he then turned his attention to the file in his lap. “So, what am I gonna find in there?”

“Honestly, nothing we haven’t already puzzled together,” you replied, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip. “But I found a couple of names associated with your parents. Thought maybe you could look at them and see if you recognize the person you saw in the woods.”

“I already know where this is going…”

“Russ, please, just–”

Russell interrupted you, placing a soothing palm on your thigh that curbed your enthusiasm. “I’ll think about it, alright?”

Satisfied, you raised two placating hands. “All I was asking…”

“How was the lasagna?”

After four hours in the basement, you and Russell quietly treaded up the stairs a few minutes after midnight, finding Colter in the kitchen, eating leftovers out of the ceramic form in the warm glow of the stove light. Tom, on the other hand, had passed out on the couch, only the blue flickers of the TV and the soft noises of a peaceful nature documentary filling the silence of the dark living room.

“Excellent,” Colter stated, swallowing down a mouthful of lasagna before speaking. “I told Tom he should be a chef in a restaurant or something.”

Russell’s brow knitted in doubt. “Really? Lemme try.”

“You just ate two entire bags of junk. You can’t still be hungry,” you argued with a giggle, shaking your head.

“It’s lasagna,” Russell said simply, grabbed a fork from the drawer, and dove right in.

That man would eat anything. You’d seen him do it, too. He didn’t even go hungry when he was lost in a desert.

“Wow, that is good,” Russell announced his judgement with a full mouth. “Maybe we should hire Tom for the brewery, huh?”

“I’m guessing this means you two talked?” Colter asked with a carefully arched brow.

“Hmm. I don’t know,” Russell mused in jest. “What d’you say, sweetheart? You taking me back?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics. “Guess I have to. God knows returning you is impossible.”

Russell laughed and slung an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He kissed your temple.

But then you noticed Colter’s smile falter, his brows creasing in question. “Is your hair different?”

“Shit!”

Wide-eyed, you bolted back down the creaking stairs to the basement, hearing Russell’s laughter fill the kitchen.

“Was she wearing a wig? And her eyes too, right?” Puzzled, Colter tried to piece it all together. He had already figured by your extensive vocabulary of swear words that you might be a better match for his older brother than he had initially surmised.

“Yup, all fake, man,” Russell confirmed and smirked. “Still think she’s not my type yet?”

“No, I can see it now,” Colter admitted, chuckling. “So, you guys are good?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Russell nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, swallowing.

Colter’s smile widened, filling the older Shaw’s stomach with more guilt. “That’s great. Happy for you, man. Guess that means you’re retiring now, huh?”

Russell scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, we’ll see. Always depends on what the wife decides, you know?”

Yup, he sprinkled that important bit of information into a joke. Then, he watched his little brother take a stumped step back, brow furrowing and unfurrowing and then furrowing again.

“Wha-, wife?”

Russell produced a popping sound with his lips like the noise of a bottle when the cork was pulled. Welp, this bottle was surely open now.

“Yup, got married in Thailand in 2011,” he added another helpful tidbit of information, but Colter’s jaw dislodged all the same.

“Alright, got this all figured out,” you said, sauntering back into the kitchen with a pastel pink towel wrapped around your head and a matching bathrobe. You’d just grabbed them from the dryer, the fluffy material still cozily warm. It was the best option, considering you didn’t want to mess around with your wig as well after popping the lenses back in had already cost you most of your patience. In your little bubble of bliss, you hadn’t instantly noticed the brothers staring at you. But once you did, your brows morphed into a frown. “What’s going on?”

“You two are married?” Colter asked, a pointed finger flicking from Russell to you.

You threw your arms up, looking at your husband. “I was gone for five minutes! What happened to telling him after the operation?”

Russell offered you a sheepish shrug. “Well, this old soldier’s getting weak too, apparently.”

“He said it like a joke…” Colter mumbled, still in the middle of processing this new revelation. His older, estranged-but-now-less-strange brother had a wife. A family. Friends. And he knew none of it. What else was there? Kids?

“Yeah, he does that...” You shot your husband a scolding sideways look. “Should I leave you two alone for this?” you then offered, hoping the answer was a goddamn yes.

“Why would you? You’re family, right?” Colter retorted with a dry smile and a sharp look.

You pursed your lips. While you could see some similarities between the brothers, you took note of one big difference: Russell wasn’t as sarcastic and sharp-tongued. Probably because Russell had always been more concerned with what he should, would, or could share with people in an overthinking loop, while his younger brother seemed obviously free of that burden.

“Don’t take it out on her,” Russell stepped in gently, which really was a warning. “She didn’t know about any of this. Kinda pushed her into it.”

“Seems to be your style,” Colter scoffed.

“Can’t work for the CIA without going through a baptism of fire, little brother,” Russell said simply, giving an unapologetic shrug of his shoulders.

“Why would you not tell me?” Colter stared at him, his look a mix of reproach and agitation.

“Look, you weren’t exactly welcoming during our first meeting,” Russell argued with a bit of bark in his deep voice, although confrontation was probably not the best approach. But why should he always have to take the blame for everything? He’d already done that for more than two decades.

“That was months ago,” Colter countered, scowling. “I’d like to think I’ve come around since then… Coulda told me after we saved Doug.”

Russell let out a small sigh of defeat, rolling his eyes back slightly. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, man, alright?” he apologized earnestly.

With a questioning brow, you carefully nudged your husband’s arm. “What happened to Doug? Is he alright?”

“Yeah, uh, he went to work for Horizon with me. I’ll tell you later, okay?” Russell replied, his voice a lot quieter as if sharing a secret, and if Horizon was involved he probably was.

“Is Tracy okay?”

“She’s fine. Little shook up. You should probably give her a call. Smooth things out,” Russell told you.

Tracy thought you worked in marketing at some company for the government. Whenever you, Russell, and Doug were stuck on a mission, the boys made you call her to “smooth things out” – aka reassuring her everything was certainly fine with her husband and he wasn't in any danger at all. They’d once made you call her from a Black Hawk. The noise had been fun to explain away – you’d told her you were picking up a client from a helicopter pad.

Colter chewed on the insides of his cheeks. “So she knows Doug, too?”

Russell nodded. “Yeah, me and Doug were mostly Delta, but SAD liked to borrow us from time to time. We ran in her team for quite a while. She was actually the one who recruited me.”

At his little wink your way, you smiled. He’d come along way from the sweet boy you had once teased like a special-forces-trained kindergartner.

“Listen, things were obviously a little complicated between me and her the last few years,” Russell (under)stated. “But I’ve brought you here for a reason, okay? Figured it’s time you meet your sister-in-law.”

Eyes drifting from you to Russell, Colter pursed his lips – a tell he shared with his brother.

“Are you mad? I can’t tell.” Frowning, Russell tilted his head.

“No,” you absentmindedly replied for Colter, who gave you a curious look but steered his attention back to Russell.

“No,” the younger Shaw repeated your assumption. “I mean, not more than I was before, you know?”

Russell’s creases only deepened. “No, I don’t know.”

“He means he’s indifferent about knowing or not knowing we’re married because he’s already pissed about not knowing about my existence in general,” you explained.

“Ah. Your nerd is showing, sweetheart,” Russell teased you with a smile that made your heart melt.

“Dory would like her,” Colter commented like the thought had just popped into his head – something else he didn’t share with his brother.

You’d always wondered about the youngest Shaw of the three. Russell could never tell you much about Dory. His memory had been one of a smart and feisty nine-year-old, not a young woman and physics professor.

Thumbing at you, Russell cocked a brow at his brother. “Is she right, though?”

“Spot on, actually.” Colter’s tongue poked his cheek, his gaze flickering with a hint of astonishment and new-found respect for you. “And I guess I’m not really mad either way. Just… surprising, you know? I should’ve asked. That’s on me.”

Russell seemed more than a little baffled to hear this, considering he had to pause to find an appropriate response. “No, uh, we’re good. I could’ve just told you, anyways.”

“Yeah, no, that’s alright.” Colter swallowed, sending his older brother a smile of forgiveness. “Honestly, I was glad to hear you weren’t alone all this time, so…”

Russell’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he pushed down the lump in his throat. With a nod, he averted his green eyes to the kitchen floor. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

“Aw, aren’t you guys adorable,” you teased.

Colter wanted to retort something dry-witted, but Russell held up a warning finger. “Ah – wait for it… Trust me. She’s not done.”

“You girls need tissues or a tampon, maybe?”

“Oh, Dory would definitely like her,” Colter repeated his earlier statement with an amused grin.

Russell, on the other hand, shot you a pointed look, but that had barely ever stopped you before. “Okay, you can lay down. You don’t have to give him the initiation. No hazing my little brother,” he ordered you sternly, and you stifled a snort. “And no one better kidnaps him tonight and puts a bag over his head, alright? I don’t wanna pick him up beaten and bloody from some warehouse tomorrow morning.”

“Hm, what?” Colter’s brow furrowed. For the first time, you could see slight panic spread in his pupils.

Who was hazing who now?

You rolled your eyes in feigned annoyance. “Fine, we’ll leave him alone,” you acted your capitulation.

The younger Shaw blinked at you. “Thank you?”

“Should we at least tell him about the other thing while we’re at it?” you asked Russell with a suggestive look.

Thoughtfully, he paused for a beat, then clicked his tongue. “No, I got it from here. It’s getting late. We’ve been here long enough,” he decided. “This is less becoming a friendly ‘welcome-to -the-neighborhood’ dinner and more starting to look like an orgy to the neighbors. Especially since you’ve put on the robe.”

“It just came from the dryer. Look, it’s so soft and warm,” you argued, pouting, your palms caressing the fluffy material on your arms.

“Uh-huh.”

The little bob of his Adam’s apple made you grin slyly. The way his jaw ticked and his pupils widened with a primal hunger, you could tell he wanted to tear that robe right off of you. The thought caused a shudder to run down your spine.

“What, uh, other thing do you have to tell me?” Colter asked and smiled expectantly, tapping his fingers on the the counter.

Russell, however, grabbed his arm and dragged his curious little brother toward the exit. “I’ll tell you in the car,” he said and thumbed to the front door behind his shoulder. “Wait outside. Gimme five minutes, alright?”

Wordlessly, Colter nodded without argument, gave you a quick goodbye-wave of his hand, and strolled leisurely back to his car as if he knew exactly what his older brother intended to do.

As expected, Russell impatiently conquered your lips, roughly pressing you against the foyer’s wall, your arms draping around his neck.

“What’s the bedroom situation in this place?” he asked between kisses.

“First floor, west side, third window from the right. I’ll leave it unlatched,” you replied, smiling against his lips. “Tom’s always sleeping on the couch. Part of our cover is going to marriage counseling with Pastor Jeff, which happens to work out great for us.”

You exhaled a shuddered breath when one of his hands wandered past the robe and splayed warm against your ribcage, just underneath your breast. His thumb fought an itch to get closer.

“Wouldn’t do that, baby,” you murmured into his ear with an amused smirk. “That boner’s not gonna go away in five minutes.”

“Mmm, I know,” he groaned and dropped his head between your boobs, lips pressing a chaste kiss to your collarbone. If he continued on with this, your arousal would surely streak down your bare thighs soon. Luckily, he had mercy on the both of you. “I’ll talk to him and then come back, okay?”

You nodded with a smile. He kissed your lips, then your forehead, and then disappeared through the door with the same cometary velocity he had entered your vision.

And all you could do was hope you’d see him one more time in your life.

“So?”

4.3 seconds after Colter killed the engine of his pickup in a spot a block away to the west side of your house – as per Russell’s very specific instruction – he stared scrutinizingly at his older brother.

Impatience was also a family trait – one even their father had despised.

“Look, uhm, there’s no easy way to break the news…”

“Is this about you having two kids?”

When Russell’s eyes met Colter’s, he didn’t recognize any anger, hurt or resentment in them – just pure slyness. At least that was good news. His little brother was just going to be annoying about this whole thing.

“Yeah, remember those five minutes you left me alone in the car? I called Bobby. Had him check some things out for me. Wasn’t easy to find. I’ll give you that…”

As expected, Colter was going to be a smartass about it. He figured it out on his own. He won the game.

“Hmm.” Russell pursed his lips, nodding. “You do know the CIA is on your guy’s ass now, right? Shouldn’t have done it in their perimeter, man. Manny’s probably all over this by now…”

Then his brow knit as if the thought of his old friend had provoked an idea, his head tilting with narrowed eyes at the air vents on the dashboard. How long had that car been parked outside and out of sight again?

Like a game of Operation, Russell then used thumb and pointer finger as his tweezers to retrieve a tiny bug – the spy kind.

“Gotcha,” Russell muttered, smirking. He then held the bug close to the speakers of the radio before turning up the volume to its highest setting – only for a second. He switched the radio off, rolled down the window, and threw the unwanted listening device onto the pavement. “That should teach ‘em a lesson…”

Colter cocked an incredulous brow at his brother. “They bugged my car?”

“Oh, trust me, they bug anything they can get their greedy little hands on,” Russell retorted. “Would probably check for a tracker underneath, too.”

“Great, thanks,” Colter huffed wryly.

“Hey, you wanted in. That’s what they do,” Russell reminded him, shrugging, but there was a smile of amusement on his lips.

Colter only bobbed his head. “So, you and her? You guys are good now? Just like that? Seemed… easy. Sorta…”

Russell chuckled lightly, brushing a hand through his beard. He knew his relationship with you was unconventional, but it had always worked for you and him.

“Me and Y/N have a deal, you know? It’s not all black and white. I mean, we became aware a long time ago that the two of us operate in a lot of gray zones. But, uh, we always know we can rely on each other, you know? Doesn’t matter if we’ve been separated by time or space,” Russell explained to the best of his abilities.

“So what happened?” Colter prompted with the same amount of confusion. “Why did you guys split up? I saw on the birth certificate your daughter was only two years old. I mean, did you-… did you even know?”

Russell inhaled deeply, nodding. “I knew she was pregnant. When she told me back then, I-…” He paused, licking his lips. It wasn’t something he had ever talked about with anyone before – not even you. “Well, shortly after that, I had a breakdown and I-… I almost hurt her.” He choked on the words, fighting the sting in his eyes.

He’d tried so hard to forget, wasn’t even sure he had ever really apologized for it to you because he so badly didn’t want it to exist that he’d tried to wish it out of literal existence, and hence, never really blamed you for leaving like you did. He understood. In fact, he had even wished you’d leave. He had convinced himself you’d be better off without him – something he still believed to be true – but he also knew he wasn’t better off without you.

He’d been lost and alone. And maybe, he was being selfish by crashing back into your life now. Or Dory’s. And Colter’s.

“I mean, nothing ever really bad happened. It’s just-… That night I came scarily close,” Russell confessed, swallowing thickly. He still hated himself for that night and everything that followed. “It’s like a switch flipped, you know? I couldn’t do anything against it… And Lewis saw parts of it, and I was already impatient with him and short with her the weeks before, so I just left that night and disappeared for two months. Volunteered for some mission. Figured it was best for everybody.”

It’s better off if he never comes back…

Russell licked his chapped lips. The next part was the hardest.

“When I got back, she told me she got a job offer in another country, and that she would be taking it and taking Lewis with her. She wanted me to use the time to… I don’t know… solve this, I guess.” He let out a humorless scoff at the painful memory.

Russell hadn’t seen it at first, maybe because he hadn’t wanted to, his anger and pain blurring the truth. After his son had been born, Russell knew you could see him struggling, so you started digging deeper into his family and what really happened. And when you’d found something – Horizon – you’d told him you could infiltrate. Naturally, Russell had passed a hard no – it had been a five-hour long fight, but he'd emerged victoriously by the end. So, you’d told him he should do it, but he didn’t want to leave you, and he didn’t want to endanger and jeopardize his family.

He’d told he was fine, but he wasn’t. It kept gnawing on him – and gnawing and gnawing and gnawing… till you eventually pulled the plug and ended his suffering.

“I was exhausted, so I told her we’d talk about it in the morning. When I woke up, they were gone. Didn’t even notice she’d already packed.”

Colter was silent for a beat. “Was it PTSD or something?”

“Or somethin’,” replied Russell.

“But you’re good now?” Colter checked with a warily raised brow.

“Guess so…”

Truthfully, Russell didn’t know if he was or wasn’t. He’d tried hard to figure out what it was exactly that had set him off that night and fix it, but he didn’t know if that feeling would ever disappear for good. He just knew he had never felt that way again since then. But could he guarantee it would never come back?

He didn’t know.

“Look, all I know is, seeing you and Dory again helped, so…” Russell twitched his shoulders and sighed. He didn’t know what else to say, how to explain it better, but Colter seemed to understand anyway, reading between the lines.

Russell worried he’d be like their father.

“I think I get it.” The younger Shaw nodded and licked his lips. “You know, you’re not crazy like Dad was, Russ. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re crazy in your own way, but I wouldn’t worry about the other stuff.”

“Well, thanks,” Russell said, not convinced but appreciative of the vote of confidence. “Makes at least one of us…”

“I-, uh, I noticed their names,” Colter then said and clarified, “Lewis and Amelia. Like explorers. Like us.”

“Ah.” Russell smacked his lips and brushed it off, “Wasn’t really my idea. I told Y/N that story once. Guess she took a liking to it..”

“Are you, you know, gonna tell Mom?”

Russell was almost surprised by the question. The brothers had barely talked about their mother since they’d reconnected. Considering Colter had never brought her up again after their first meeting, Russell figured there was a reason for that – and he thought he probably knew the reason, too.

Russell scoffed a chuckle and looked at his little brother with an almost incredulous look. “I think you can guess the answer to that one,” he replied and figured it said enough. “Did you tell her I came back?”

Colter pursed his lips, and Russell took it as a sign of admission. So his mother knew. Great…

“Sorta,” Colter admitted hesitantly.

“What d’she say?” Russell almost smiled out of amusement. He already knew the answer, but his brother still seemed reluctant. “C’mon, you can tell me. I’m not gonna be butthurt after twenty years…”

“She told me to ignore you,” Colter finally confessed, but the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. They had ever since his mother said them, but even more so now that he knew his brother – and parts of the truth.

“Hmm,” Russell hummed with tight lips and ground his jaw.

Granted, the confession stung more than Russell would ever be willing to admit. The tiny, naive part inside of him had constructed a hopeless fantasy of his mother having a sudden change of heart over the last two decades and happily welcoming her firstborn back. Apparently, not a thing had changed, though, and he cursed himself for feeling disheartened.

“But I actually haven’t talked to her in a while now,” Colter added with a small shrug, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Huh, really?”

“Yeah, uh, and when I did, I didn’t exactly tell her I didn’t take her advice, you know? So…”

“Why not?” Russell’s brow furrowed a little more as he analyzed each word, simultaneously realizing why he had been so reluctant to share his life with Colter before – his subconscious had been afraid his alienated little brother would report back to the mothership.

Colter’s lips pursed. “Because I disagree.”

“Ah.”

Colter chewed on his lower lip. “Look, I know you and Dory wanna keep all of this in the past and play family – and trust me, I want that too,” he assured, but his heart was beating fast in his chest. “But I need to know, man. I need to know why she lied about this for twenty years and, you know, did all of this,” he insisted, and yet, Russell could tell he wasn’t done. He might have broken the dam. “She did it to you. I mean, aren’t you mad?”

“Of course I’m mad,” the older Shaw admitted, but there was no fire behind his words.

“Then why are you so calm?”

Amused, Russell chuckled, shrugging. “Probably ‘cause I’ve been dealing with this a lot longer than you, little brother.”

“So, what are we gonna do now?”

“We ain’t gonna do anything,” Russell clarified, his voice stern. He’d die to protect his family, you and the kids, and do anything in his power to keep you out of it, but Colter was a grown-up – a free agent. If he didn’t want to listen, Russell couldn’t force him. “Look, you wanna find out, you go find out. And if you do find something and need help, you call. But I can’t be involved in this,” he explained, his firm expression morphing into something more vulnerable and sincere. “And frankly, I don’t care that much. You, me, Dory, Y/N, the kids – that’s all that matters, trust me. You’re not gonna feel better or more… whole after finding those answers.”

“How do you know? Do you know what really happened?” Colter instantly asked, and Russell knew in that moment, it’d be hopeless. His brother wouldn’t stop till he found it – forever restless.

“No, I told you. I don’t,” Russell repeated, and while he didn’t know everything, he omitted that he knew something.

“What about Y/N?”

Russell froze at the bare mention of your name, his protective instincts kicking in. “Leave her out of this,” he all but snarled.

But Colter didn’t think about stopping. “Did you ever ask her? I mean, she’s CIA. She could probably find out something, right?”

“Yeah, I asked her once, alright? Was a long time ago,” Russell admitted, sighing. The intended lie would stick better if there was some truth to it – you had taught him that.

“C’mon, Russ… And?” Colter impatiently threw his arms up, brow raising higher and higher as he waited for an answer.

“She never found anything,” Russell said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

This time, it wasn’t just an omission. It was a blatant lie.

“I think whatever Dad was involved in – or both of ‘em – was just some activist shit. I don’t think the government cares.” Lie. “We both know he had a mental thing. Paranoid, probably schizophrenic… I mean, Mom used to pump him full of meds sometimes when he got too out of hand.” Truth. He then stole a glance at his little brother and saw the confusion shimmering on his face. Russell scoffed. “You didn’t know that, did you?”

Quietly, Colter shook his head.

“Well, you were a kid,” Russell said and hoped it would curb the blow slightly, although he knew better than that. “He always took something as far back as I can remember. She used to prepare his pills every evening after you and Dory went to bed. But when we moved to the cabin, he started refusing to take them. Said they made him ‘not clear-headed enough.’ Kinda ironic,” he shared and snorted. “When it got too bad, though, she’d still crush ‘em into his food.”

Colter took everything in with a nod but didn’t say anything more.

“You good over there?” Russell checked after a full minute had passed.

“Yeah,” Colter said and even tried to form a reassuring smile before the attempt failed. Instead, he swallowed. “Just a lot, you know? I didn’t know. I mean, I had some idea, but not-… not that.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Russell said, his voice almost a whisper in the silence of the night. “Like I said, you were a kid…”

When Russell finally left the car to sneak back to you, his shoulders felt a little lighter and his heart a little calmer. He might just float through that unlatched window tonight.

The bad news was, though, he might not be able to retire just yet.

Part 5: This Is a Start

Honestly, I should've called this chapter "Heart-to-Heart Part II" 😂 I'll see you for the finale next week, but as you know, it's not the end for them – only just the beginning 😉

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