#I have missed Shaw's lovely face

[jollyfang]

Since I’ve been going through an art block and hate just about everything I’ve tried to draw lately, I figured I might as well post what I’ve got that I actually do like.

I said after I posted Ash that might post my drawings of Ash and Babe together, so here I am delivering on that promise.

I didn’t like just having a blank background so I just messed around with a watercolor brush until I ended up with something I liked. Nothing fancy but it’s something. 🤷

[ginnsbaker]

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! :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Next part

-

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.

[escapisttt]

a little late for this but idgaf. my university shut down for election day so have my thoughts on redacted couples costumes!!

milo and sweetheart: morticia and gomez addams DUHHHH AND THEY ACT LIKE IT. this or kermit the frog and miss piggy (you can choose who’s who but in my heart of hearts milo is miss piggy c’mon now)

david and angel: toji fushiguro and the fucking worm from jujutsu kaisen. david was convinced because of how simple the costume is for him; just slapped on his black muscle compression t-shirt and found some big ass pants and called it a night. meanwhile angel slathered their entire body + their tank top and shorts in purple paint and put on a bald cap. (david carries angel on his shoulders the entire night)

asher and baabe: cruella deville and ash just as a dalmation dog (baabe is dragging him around with a leash and he’s living his best life) this or mermaid man and barnacle boy.

sam and darlin’: octavious and jedidiah from night at the museum come ON. literally no question about it. if sam was more fun, darlin’ would have them go as clawdeen and draculara from monster high, but he will probably never cave.

group shaw pack costumes: the walking dead themed. sam is rick. david is negan. ash is glenn. milo is michonne. darlin’ is daryl. sweetheart is maggie. baabe is carol. angel is carl. and they’re not dressing based off of the characters’ relationships within the show or else things would be weird.

vincent and lovely: just any tim burton couple. jack skellington and sally? emily and victor from corpse bride? edward scissorhands and the girl whose name i forgot? it’s either that or walter white and jessie pinkman.

damien and huxley: deadpool and wolverine (again you can pick who’s who but i think it’s obvious)

gavin and freelancer: donkey and dragon from shrek. to be clear gavin is the dragon and he’s wearing a slutty pinkish-reddish dress with his tail on full display, a pair of fake wings, and a full face of makeup while freelancer is in a donkey onesie from walmart or something. oh and caelum dressed up as the gingerbread man.

lasko and dear: if you wanna go basic, milo thatch and kida from the animated atlantis movie. but that’s boring and lasko doesn’t just wanna be himself. so if you wanna be fun and accurate about it, they’d be gimli and legolas from lord of the rings. lasko is gimli. let him live out his d&d, fantasy-loving dreams.

porter and treasure: phantom of the opera and christine. masc treasure can dress up in a white suit or just anything fancy and white, doesn’t have to be a dress. i just need phantom!porter hnnngh. alternatively if they’re feeling a little goofier they’d go as marceline and princess bubblegum from adventure time.

anton and his lover: no one talks about them enough i will bring them up at any opportunity. that being said, wall-e and eve. anton is wall-e and his lover is eve and they hold a little plant together. i’m crying.

[justourimaginations]

Missed you (Colter Shaw x Fe!Reader)

Summary: You have been traveling with Colter for a few weeks, your relationship was 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 (not proof read)

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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 away, 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 of 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.

[alessiathepirate]

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..."

[jokeringcutio]

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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Love you all

[bullet-prooflove]

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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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[pamwritessometimes]

Tuesday’s Gone — Chapter 9

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: 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

🤍Taglist🤍

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @winchesterwild78 @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @zepskies @kr804573 @sebastianstangirl01 @kmc1989 @drakelover78 @amberlthomas @lomlbuckybarnes @n-o-p-e-never

[lover-of-mine]

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.

[inmymagnetoera]

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.

[the-heartstring-chronicles]

As someone who has shipped P/C since 1994 and JC since 2006. I just want to say:

Continuing justice for Jean Luc and Kathryn!

( No, no! Not as a ship, you can stop screaming in horror now, I have not abandoned my soulmate pairs)

But as characters:

They both get a very bad wrap for being addicted or married to duty. And in some ways they are, it’s true!

But as confirmed by Picard season 3, Jean Luc says he would have wanted a shot at being a husband to Beverly, from his own lips! And he says that he would have wanted to be a father. She may not have known either of those things, but it doesn’t make them any less fact.

He was also openly affectionate to her, sometimes in public during TNG. Riker knew about them, he says as much to Jack. No one on the crew bats an eye about Jack in fact.

JL and Bev were about as subtle as an air horn set on low volume. Trying to be circumspect, but actually being a billboard for lifetime love. Heck even Shaw knew and we had never met him before. People don’t know that much about a relationship if one person in it is solely married to duty.

And Kathryn! Miss Ma’am let Chakotay build her a bathtub while still trying to get off the planet. She cried at his speech, even though it was so mushy, it could have been day old oatmeal. Why? Because she knew he meant it. ( and I as a mushy viewer, appreciated him being that honest about his feelings too)

She let him give her a rose in Coda and she struggled mightily with his disappointment in her several times in later seasons. Her counterpart in Shattered was also very openly interested in how far they went in seven seasons. (Shoot your future shot lady! Go you!) and no one thinks S7 Kathryn was totally cool with C/7 right? Her face said otherwise. Admiral Janeway, was also heartbroken in about six ways, only two of which were Seven dying and Tuvok getting sick.

She also seemingly, from what I’ve read, made it part of her goal to find him in Prodigy too. Like Jean-Luc with Beverly, when Chalotay is lost, she will seek.

So while yes, duty sometimes sidetracks each of them. they are loving people who adore their other halves as well. They are complex.

And that’s part of why I love each pair, for the devotion that both of the partners in each relationship feel and how they navigate it together.

True love must flow from each heart to make a sustainable ship

And so I hope that as much as we discuss the duty bound Admirals and those who love them, that we also keep discussing and writing about their softer sides and the ways they show that love in return.

[sylvia-forest]

[CN] Shaw's Sweet and Sour Date (Part 1)

⚡Warning: This post contains detailed spoiler for a date which hasn't been released in EN yet!⚡

[Released Date: 6 Dec 2024]

[Section 1]

Shaw: I still don't understand, aren't you the boss? Why are you working for others?

MC: How can this be considered working? I'm just helping others out of kindness...

I completely ignored Shaw's displeased look in the mirror and carefully applied rouge.

After confirming that my makeup was flawless, I draped on a light gauze shawl and twirled happily in front of him. The delicate hairpins on my head made a crisp, melodious sound as they jingled.

MC: How is it? Does it look good?

Shaw: Now you're even showing off... I think you're really addicted to acting today.

Shaw rolled his eyes and I pouted in dissatisfaction.

MC: Who's showing off? I'm fragrant and stunning, absolutely gorgeous, and adorably beautiful! Shaw (in a playful tone): Alright, alright, Miss Fragrant, Stunning, Absolutely Gorgeous, and Adorably Beautiful. The tassels on your waist got tangled up from all your twirling.

As Shaw spoke, he bent down slightly to untangle the tassels wrapped around my belt.

When our eyes met as he stood up, I deliberately picked up my fan, held it in front of my face, and playfully threw him a flirtatious glance.

MC (acting mode on): Oh, sir, you are so thoughtful.

Shaw: ….. Shaw (laughs): Can you stop acting already?

MC: I'm just getting into character early to prepare for the work ahead!

Recently, the activities in Ruyi Town have been exceptionally popular, and the [MC company], originally only a promotional partner, has also invested more manpower and resources for the organizers.

The entire Ruyi Town is now filled with a variety of fun mini-games and lively storytelling performances.

Countless visitors are fully immersed here, eagerly exploring the streets and alleys to meet various NPCs and complete the tasks they assign.

Shaw: By the way, who are you going to play today? MC: Huh? Didn't I mention it? Shaw: I only know that early this morning, you got a call saying that some Xiao Lan from your company wasn't feeling well and needed someone to cover for her.

Shaw (teasinglyx1): Then, as you chatted, someone started grinning like an idiot, looking more and more excited, and finally volunteered to be the substitute.

Shaw (teasinglyx2): ...Is playing an NPC really that thrilling for you? MC: Mhm~ After all, NPCs used to give me tasks, making me run around everywhere. Now it's my turn to try commanding players. Shaw: Yeah, makes sense. And the first one to take your 'orders' was me, sending you off to work. Shaw: So, who are you playing as? MC: See this?

I pulled out a mandarin duck sachet and showed it off in front of him.

MC: ‘Why are we like mandarin ducks, always entwined in pairs, fluttering freely together?’ My role is simple—I'm playing a lovesick maiden. MC: I'm locked in the courtyard by the lord and lady, tossing and turning without a way out, so I need the players to help me deliver a token of love.

Shaw (curiously): To whom?

MC: Of course it’s the one I like.

Shaw (fuming with anger): Someone you like?

Shaw's eyes immediately narrowed. His gaze swept over the sachet and then returned to my face.

After a while, he suddenly laughed.

Shaw (trying to act normal): So you even have an acting partner, huh? Who is it? The one who just greeted us outside? MC: No, that’s our company’s screenwriting teacher. MC: My partner is the Lovesick Scholar, but I haven’t met him yet. After all, my character is supposed to be trapped in the courtyard.

I was halfway through explaining when I suddenly came to my senses.

MC (in a probing tone): Are you jealous?

Shaw (quick and blunt): Nope. MC: Huh, you must be jealous, otherwise why would you ask me this? Shaw: Is it possible that I was just asking a normal question?

"Is it possible that a normal question wouldn’t sound so sour?" I blinked at him but decided to swallow this teasing remark.

Shaw, clearly growing more uncomfortable under my gaze, simply grabbed my shoulder and started walking me out.

Shaw: Okay, it's almost time for you to go to work.

—

We walked through the staff passage and arrived at the back entrance of Ruyi Town's park.

It was almost time for the park to open, and the staff were wearing various ancient costumes and passing by us one after another.

Dressed in studded leather and sporting blue-purple hair, Shaw looked like a time traveler, standing out conspicuously amidst the crowd.

I suddenly felt reluctant to enter the park.

I reluctantly took a couple of steps forward but couldn’t help turning back to emphasize something to Shaw.

MC: I'm going in now. Remember to pick me up when you're done. Shaw: I know, I know...oh, wait.

Shaw suddenly called out to me. Just as I was about to turn around in confusion, I felt my hand suddenly empty.

The mandarin duck sachet had landed securely in his palm. In the distance, the morning sun was just beginning to rise. Under the golden light, Shaw grinned mischievously.

Shaw (starts reciting poetry out of nowhere): ‘The zither stops its tune at the phoenix pillar; the Shu lute is poised to play the mandarin-duck strings.’ I can recite poetry too.

Shaw (full of confidence): The first token of 'lovesickness' is mine.

[Section 2]

MC: Though this humble maiden and the Lovesick Scholar are deeply in love, our statuses are worlds apart, and I am confined to this courtyard. I don’t even know if he’s still waiting for me... sob sob~

MC: If only there were kind-hearted souls willing to help me convey my feelings...

I recited my lines with practiced ease, feigning to dab at the corners of my eyes with a handkerchief, all the while secretly pondering how to drop more hints if the visitors failed to catch on.

Thankfully, this group of tourists was quick-witted. After whispering among themselves for a moment, they came up with an idea.

Tourist A: Uh… Miss, if you have some token of affection, you can give it to us, and we’ll deliver it to the Lovesick Scholar for you.

MC: Oh, thank you, dear strangers! Please take this mandarin duck sachet to him.

MC: Once he sees this sachet, he’ll know what to do.

I handed the sachets to the tourists, and they immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

Tourist A: Wow, this task is way too easy, just running errands... Oh, by the way, Miss, can I give you a suggestion? You really shouldn’t stay in the garden—it’s so hard to find you here.

MC: Ahaha, it’s part of the task... uh, I mean, the lord has ordered me to reflect here in the courtyard. This humble maiden has no choice.

Tourist B: If you can only stay in the courtyard, Miss, you could move to the rock garden. At least there’s shade and a place to rest—it’s way better than standing here.

MC: That’s a good idea! Thank you!

After saying goodbye to the tourists, I immediately picked up the cloth bag at my feet and walked towards the rockery.

MC: True, I was being so rigid—why stand there like a fool all day…

After a whole morning of being an NPC, I was already starting to regret it.

I had originally thought being an NPC would be a lot of fun, but after repeating the same performance and lines dozens of times, the novelty had long turned into monotony.

To make things worse, I couldn’t leave my spot. If it hadn’t been for the tourists’ reminder, I might have ended up standing in the garden until the end of time.

Gathering my skirt, I perched on the rocks of the artificial hill and opened my pouch.

—— Mandarin duck sachets, still dozens of them left.

MC: Sigh….

I rubbed my legs, which had started to ache from standing so long, hoping that a big wave of tourists would come soon so I could quickly hand out these sachets.

But after another ten minutes, the only sounds I heard were the laughter and chatter of tourists just beyond the wall. There were no footsteps heading toward the rockery at all.

MC: I don't know if Shaw has finished his work yet…

Without my phone and no tourists around, I was so bored that I could only count the ants beneath my feet and watch the drifting clouds in the sky.

As I sat there, I gradually felt sleepy and leaned against the rockery, feeling a little drowsy.

?.?: ….hey.

In a daze, it seemed like someone patted me on the shoulder.

I only felt that the voice of the visitor sounded somewhat familiar, but after a whole morning of practice, a conditioned reflex made me chant the lines automatically.

MC: Ladies and gentlemen, this humble girl and the Lovesick Scholar share mutual affection. If any kind-hearted person could help convey my feelings...

?.? (in a firm tone): I won't pass it on.

MC: ?!

I quickly opened my eyes and turned around, only to meet those fluttering golden eyes.

I didn’t notice when Shaw had sat down on the rock garden, but his smile was wide and carefree.

He had even changed into a Tang-style round-collared robe, his waist cinched with a jade belt, making his figure appear even taller and more upright.

He hadn’t tied his hair up, instead weaving a few braids, adding an air of unruly charm to the otherwise tidy outfit.

It seemed that no matter what time or space he was in, Shaw remained unconstrained, always being himself.

Shaw (HIS GODLY VOICE ASJHYI): Am I really that good-looking, you didn’t even blink an eye?

MC (shocked): ……!

I just came to my senses from my surprise, the heat instantly spread to my cheeks, and I hurriedly covered them with my fan.

MC (blushing heavily): I was just startled by you, that's all!

MC: Why are you here now?

Shaw: Because I received a mission.

He flipped his palm and an apricot-colored floral sachet appeared in his palm.

The sachet was exquisitely crafted, with jade clasps that made a delicate tinkling sound. It was far superior to the mass-produced mandarin duck sachets I had in my pouch.

Shaw: There is a gentleman named Shaw who is in love with Miss MC and asked me to deliver a token of love to his beloved.

I reached out my hand in a daze and was about to take it, but Shaw suddenly grabbed my wrist.

I was caught off guard and fell into his arms.

The satin rustled, the pearls and jade clinked, yet it was only the faint scent of mint from his collar that still felt familiar.

Shaw (in a low sexy voice): What about Miss MC? Don't you have anything to give him?

MC: I gave you the sachet this morning…

My mumbling was interrupted by Shaw.

Shaw (clicks his tongue): That's someone else's. Shaw (sulking): I want what's mine.

I froze for a moment, instinctively reaching to feel my body.

MC: But I'm wearing a costume and I don't have my own things with me… Shaw (mumbling): You really are an idiot.

Shaw interrupted me again, and the minty scent suddenly became hot.

A kiss, carrying a hint of reprimand, landed on my lips, as if to serve as a reminder and emphasis.

Shaw (HE SOUNDED SO HAPPY HERE): The 'Lovesick Maiden' doesn't count, I only want mine.

The warmth that hadn't fully faded from my face became even more intense. My heart raced, and I pressed my lips together, still tingling from the kiss.

MC (flustered): Th-then I also...

?.?: Didn't they say the Lovesick maiden was in this courtyard? Why don't I see her?

Suddenly, I heard the voices of tourists not far away. I woke up instantly from the beautiful scene and hurriedly broke free from Shaw's arms.

MC: Someone is coming, you go first…

Shaw: I won’t.

Shaw flashed a mischievous smile, gripping my hand tightly, clearly not intending to move an inch.

As the tourists got closer, I hurriedly adjusted my clothes and hair accessories, calling out to greet them.

MC: I am the Lovesick Maiden.

Tourists: Eh?

The tourists looked at me in confusion, then at Shaw beside me, and finally at our clasped hands.

Tourists: Then, who is this gentleman?

MC: He is…

Shaw: I am the one she likes.

Before I could even organize my words, Shaw spoke up first. The tourists across from us were all so surprised that they stared wide-eyed.

Tourist: Huh? Have we triggered a hidden plot?

Tourist: The Lovesick Maiden has a new lover? She doesn't want that scholar anymore?

MC (starts panicking): No! Huh, huh, huh—

Shaw (burst into laughter): Hahahaha!

In an instant, my frantic shout and Shaw's laughter echoed through the courtyard, startling the birds and causing them to take flight.

—

⚡Part 2

[ginnsbaker]

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.

[updownlately]

stars through the window (they light up our disco)

| leah williamson x reader | fluff (just pure softness) | 1.5k | inspo: when you're home by tyler shaw. | a/n: this was supposed to be short and sweet, but it turns out despite my height, shortness is not a strength of mine. if you haven't heard the song before, definitely check it out, it's lovely! and if you have, see if you can count how many lyrics i sneaked in :)

~~~

Your insistence on getting an apartment with huge windows had frustrated Leah throughout your initial apartment hunt. You both were footballers with your lives constantly being the topic of interest of the media and the internet, no hint of privacy in the public world. Leah didn’t want to give them direct access to your most personal moments too. However, when it eventually became a heated topic that the two of you would butt heads on not only during any showing with your realtor, but over meals and downtime, Leah had decided that it wouldn’t be worth the risk of potentially losing you. Plus, she figured she could always purchase a nice set of black out curtains in order to keep away prying eyes. Letting you win, the decision to choose an apartment had become ever so slightly easier (the clear joy on your face had been a good reward too), the pair of you eventually deciding on one that fit all the requirements, a house that was ready to become a home.

And while she wouldn’t tell you this, in this moment, Leah was glad that she had gone along with your terms in that initial disagreement. The both of you were currently in said apartment, a soft playlist filling the room through the numerous hidden speakers in the living room as each of you quietly did your own thing. It was just a little after dinner that you had suggested turning off the lights in the apartment and playing some music to help the two of you relax. Between the flurry of games and practices you both had had, it was safe to say the downtime of the past day-off had been a blessing. 

While you and Leah played together for Arsenal, her duties as a key face of the Gunners’ women’s team and England often led to much of your time spent away from each other. Nights like these, where you got to spend the evening together, gently watching over London as the city began to head to bed, the two of you basking in the presence of each other, contentedly present, were some of your favourites. 

You were laying on the sofa reading, the light of the sunset shining through the near-completely glass wall illuminating your book, whilst Leah was sprawled on the arm chair next to you, the evident sounds of overplayed songs coming from her phone signifying her doom-scroll of TikTok.

It was when dusk started to turn into night, just under an hour later, that you gave up on trying to progress any further in your story, the waning light too faint to make out the words that littered the paper. Bored and missing your girlfriend, you padded over to Leah, gently taking her phone out of her hands and placing it on the coffee table that rested near you. 

“Leah…I’m bored. I was enjoying my book and then the light started fading,” you whined, settling yourself in her lap, arms coming around her neck, head on her shoulder.

Placing a delicate kiss on the exposed part of your neck, Leah pulled you closer, her hands finding home on your waist. 

“How dare the sun set and the day turn to night, hmm? It’s a shame we don’t have any means to light the inside of our home,” she joked, causing you to gently smack her shoulder from where you rested (not an easy feat, given the two of you were positioned lengthwise in the single seat).

“I’m bored. Entertain me,” you pleaded. “Please.”

Tucking her head your shoulder in response, Leah blindly reached for your phone from your pocket, turning up the volume of the music ever so slightly and changing the playlist from your current acoustic covers to one that she had made for the two of you once the device was in her hands.

“I have a few ideas on what we can do,” she smirked, pulling back and meeting your eyes.

Recognizing the glint in your girl’s eyes, you had just leaned in to kiss the blonde, lips merely centimetres away, when Leah deviously decided it was the perfect time to get up and prepare for her little activity. Her hands moved to your thighs to make sure you wouldn’t fall as she picked you up with herself, moving quicker than normal to tease you, your shrieks echoing in the room at the unexpected movement.

Carefully setting you on the floor, Leah made quick work of moving the coffee table to the side, creating room for a faux dance floor in the middle of your living room, as you looked on in confusion.

When Leah turned to you, hand outstretched in the space between you two, the streetlights illuminating her soft smile ever so angelically, you extended your own, intertwining the two, binding the skin of your hands.

You let the blonde pull you into her, stepping into her space, your bodies pressed close together. 

A bashful smile on her face, Leah took a moment to appreciate you, in awe of the way you so effortlessly stood in front of her, a golden glow on your face, no doubt due to the stars shining through the window. (She secretly hoped she’d get this view again, but in a different setting, where hopefully the pair of you would wear white, sunlight streaming down on you two).

Wrapping up her admiring, Leah took note of the perplexed look on your face, quickly choosing to put you out of your misery. 

“Let’s put on a show?” She asked shyly. “Dance with me?”

You couldn’t help but grin at the Englishwoman standing in front of you. It wasn’t rare that Leah let her soft, romantic side show, yet each time, it left you just as elated as the first time. The stone cold captain on the field seemed to turn to mush in your presence, your teammates never failing to remind you both of the way you had the midfielder wrapped around your pinkie.

“Lead the way m’lady,” you winked, smiling lightly to yourself, finally realising that Leah had put on the playlist of love songs she had made for you.

The pair of you slowly danced, swaying to the music as the stars outside faintly lit your disco. Words unsaid, Leah held on to you tighter, slowly guiding you through a waltz and spinning you so gracefully before tenderly pulling you back, impossibly closer to her.

You weren’t one to dance, often joking to yourself that you had two left feet and that any use of footwork was better left on the pitch for you. Yet, here you couldn’t help but follow Leah’s footsteps, trusting her to lead you both, trusting her trust in you. And when Leah looked into your eyes, asking for permission to dip you down, you could only whisper her name, nodding ever so slightly, confident that she’d catch you, knowing for certain that she wouldn’t let you fall, at the very least, not on your own, not by yourself. Whether it be four feet or three on the floor, you knew she’d be there for you, just like she had every step of the way since the start.

As song after song played, the two of you moved delicately around the makeshift stage, eyes and hands not once leaving the other. With each waltz after waltz, spin, and dip, you knew that if paradise was on Earth, it would be here, in your apartment, as the pair of you silently spoke your affection for the other with each second that passed.

And when tired feet led you to sit down, cuddled up on the couch, wrapped in your love for each other, FIFA illuminating the rest of the room, Leah knew that the windows that she hated in the apartment that she loved had grown on her. The way the passing rays lit up your face, bathing you in an ethereal glow was a heavenly sight to see, one that she wished on any and every shooting star that she’d get to see for the rest of her life.

Your shared apartment that had been gently crafted into a home, was nothing but a skeleton, a shell of a safe haven, if it didn’t have the two of you. The love shared between you two overflowing, seeping into the cracks, filling them with delight and affection. As long as it had you both, you knew that it would be all you’d ever need, and everything you’d ever want. The best thing in your lives had only started, a whole future waiting for you ahead. A future full of you two together, coupled with friends and family, and a sky full of love, where life couldn’t get much better than this dreamland turned reality, a present in the night that passed.

[justourimaginations]

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.

[righteous-r0de0]

i saw a bunch of other people doing this so

random redacted headcanons!

- vincent can’t handle spicy food very well, even post-turning

- ivan hates fishing

- david loves egg salad sandwiches with hot sauce (it’s his favorite comfort food)

- caelum has never had cotton candy and freelancer is pretty sure if he ever did, he would implode

- gavin doesn’t like snow

- lasko on the other hand LOVES spicy food and testing his tolerance to certain things

- damien doesn’t drink coffee or tea or energy drinks, this man is just out here raw-dogging life

- kody still tries to look at all the damn crew’s socials, even though they all have him blocked

- huxley (opposite of damien) gets his caffeine anyway he can but his favorite are the caffeine pouches (similar to zyns (these are also my favorite))

- asher loves watching mma fights and tries (gently) to recreate the moves on babe (“i could have dropped you just then! you gotta keep your guard up!”)

- james “i’m exploding you with my mind” redacted

- marcus begged his mom for a mohawk in middle school but he didn’t have the right texture hair for it and she refused to buy him all the hair gel necessary to make it a real mohawk so they just had to shave his head (kids thought he had lice)

- anton loves sending and receiving physical mail. he knows it’s impractical in comparison to texting or calling, but he loves it

- ollie has a favorite blanket, pillow, and set of sheets. he’s very particular about his bedtime routine

- elliot however could drop anywhere at anytime. and that’s nothing to do with him being a dreamwalker. he’s just a fantastic sleeper

- brachium has never had candy, but he’s curious about it

- avior really really likes classical music and it’s brought him to tears multiple times (especially jupiter comp. by gustav holst iykyk)

- milo holds the door open for everyone whenever he can. sweetheart once thought he was following them for like fifteen minutes but he was still stuck at the door

- cam loves fresh produce and is a frequenter of any local farmers market

- blake had a phase in middle school and early high school where he was super patriotic and right-wing leaning and he hates when people bring it up

- aaron actually knows most of the shaw pack boys. he tried to hire them for an event before realizing they were an empowered company. david thought he knew

- sam showed pigs and sheep when he was younger. he kinda misses it but he doesn’t have the room for livestock anymore

- vega in all his years of existing both in aria and on earth has never been truly hugged

- before falling, regulus lived on earth with his charge. they had two cats

- xavier used to travel ridiculous amounts of miles to go to food festivals around the country. he took the team with him once or twice

- geordi never deleted any pictures of him and cutie. he’s still hopeful that things will work out and he doesn’t want to get rid of older memories with them

- guy was friends with a lot of the unempowered boys in school, but lost touch with them in college

- morgan is very into hair-care. his shower looks like an apothecary shop full of mystery vials and oils. he knows what everything is and how to use it though.

- porter loves classic literature and translating latin to english. it’s one of the few hobbies he allows himself to have

- hush once traipsed into doc’s apartment, mud up to his knees and all over his face and hands, holding a bull frog. he only came to ask what it was.