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luci-in-trenchcoats · 29 days ago

Text

Strings

Summary: The reader's been assigned to watch over Dory Shaw when she runs into trouble. But when her big brother, Colter, shows up in town, things in the case are about to take a dramatic turn...

Pairing: Colter Shaw x reader

Word Count: 5,100ish

Warnings: language, serial killers, drugging, smidge of violence, innuendoes galore, not so implied smutty times

A/N: Welcome to my first ever Colter one shot! Please enjoy and let me know what you think and if you want more Colter! 😊

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“So that’s the brother that does the reward thing you told me about?” Dory hummed beside you at your hightop, smirking at you. “What?”

“Nothing. You’ve only been drooling over him the past hour.” She gave her brother a wave from where he was getting the three of you refills at the bar. You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Defensive pose. I must be totally wrong, hm?”

“So what if he’s hot? I wasn’t drooling.” She shuddered. “You have hot brothers, Dory. Live with it. It’s a shame how you turned out. Your poor parents.”

“Screw you,” she said, flipping you off with a smile. You only grinned, stealing one of the cold fries from the basket before you. “I thought you swore off men anyways.”

“I swore off boys. Douchebags that don’t want commitment. Men? Men, I’m okay with.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” she said, Colter wearing a pleasant smile as he returned with three bottles.

“Ladies,” he said, setting one down in front of each of you before taking a seat.

“So how long are you-” Dory groaned when he phone started to buzz. “Oh, come on. It’s fucking Hendricks.”

“Yikes,” you said, taking a sip as Colter frowned.

“Who’s Hendricks?” he asked, Dory answering and walking away to a quiet corner of the bar.

“The department chair. They’ve been having a problem with one of the professors and keep asking Dory to cover his night classes last minute,” you said. Colter frowned, keeping his thoughts to himself. Slowly you brought the lips of your ice cold bottle to your lips, taking a baby sip, Colter’s gaze on Dory’s agitated form. “What did you study in college?”

“I never went,” he said, Dory approaching again with her phone by her side. She gave you a look. She had to go. Colter picked up on it as she faced him, an apology in her eyes. He only softly returned a smile, hiding his disappointment well. “Go to work. I can stick around town a few days.”

“Really?” she asked, her voice so young sounding, a little girl’s spark in her eyes.

“Of course, kiddo,” he said, handing her the black bag on the table belonging to her. “We’ll get dinner at your place tomorrow.”

“You’re serious? You’re not going to run off in the night?” He shook his head, hiding the flash of pain on his face. Dory only smiled, pecking a kiss on his temple. “Alright, I’ll text you later. Oh, and Y/N totally thinks you’re hot. Have fun!”

“Dorian!” you screeched at her as she happily scurried away, heading out the bar entrance. Your face felt hot as you turned back to Colter, he eyes suddenly narrowed. “Uh, she was just joking-”

“You have five seconds to explain who you are and why that man by the door followed her out. Five. Four,” he said, already getting to his feet. “Three-”

“Protective custody,” you grit out. Colter took two steps to be by your side, leaning down to your ear.

“How many are covering her?”

“Three at all times. One of us is always by her side. That call was a cover. She has to go into the agency for a debrief,” you said quietly. You felt his hot breath over the back of your neck, your skin prickling. “Back off, Shaw.”

“You’re going to tell me what’s going on, right now.” You growled, pushing out your seat and standing, forcing him to take a step back, if only so.

“Not here.” You left without waiting for him, Colter right on your heels though. You stopped by your SUV in the parking lot, Colter crossing his arms. With a sigh, you put your hands on your hips. “You’re not going to let this go, are you.”

“The only reason I didn’t storm out after Dory is because I believe you. Now what is my kid sister involved in?” You shook your head, Colter tilting his own back. “I will not interfere but you need to tell me. Or else, I’ll go poking on my own and then I very well might end up interfering which you don’t want. Talk.”

“You would never risk putting her in danger so no, you won’t do anything. You are going to get in your truck, go sleep in your camper and tomorrow, hang out with your sister and me, her old friend from college that’s visiting until further notice. Got it?” you snapped. He looked you up and down, searching for a weapon maybe? He’d never find the small pistol in the back of your waistband though. “Shaw, I told you to go.”

“You need to be better at your job,” he said, reaching around his back and pulling our a small pistol. Your small pistol. Your hand shot to your back, now feeling very flat.

“How-”

“I distracted you in the bar.” He flipped the gun around, holding the grip out to you. “I’m sure you know all about our family. If someone is after her, I can find them. You know I can.”

“You think you can do a better job than the FBI?” you scoffed, taking your weapon back. He shrugged. It was maybe a sliver of cocky but you knew he had the record to back it up.

“I think if you don’t find this guy soon, the case will go cold and the FBI will not waste so many agents time. You’ve probably got what, a team of seven people covering her?”

“Four now,” you mumbled, his eyes flashing wide for a brief moment. “Maybe a few agents have been pulled the past few days but we wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself.”

“How long before that team drops to two? To one? Before they force her into witness protection or this bastard finds her first?” You tucked your gun away, Colter tilting his head to the side. “You know what’s going to happen? You’re going to be the last agent left and either you both get killed, you do and she goes into witness protection or she does and you have to live with the fact you failed her. You seem capable of defending her but if this person is as dangerous as you make it seem, you are going to need all the help you can get.”

“Go to your camper,” you said, opening the drivers door, Colter making a face. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Cozy,” you said, stepping into the airstream forty minutes later. You’d changed into a pair of jeans and an oversized hoodie from college. Colter pouted from the kitchenette area, nodding to the table. You tucked yourself in along with your backpack, tugging out your laptop and files before he set a beer down in front of you. “I ordered us a pizza. Should be here soon. You’re paying.”

“Of course I am,” he said, taking the seat across, spinning your folders around and opening one as you got your computer booted up. He barely glanced at the thing before you felt his heated stare. You met it quickly, Colter pointing a finger to a picture on the page. “A suspected serial killer? Seriously?”

“She saw him drug a woman at a bar. Gave a good description to locals, it flagged in our system. Two days later, someone broke into her house. Luckily for your sister, she was covering a lecture that night and wasn’t home.” He ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes. “I know. She’s his next target. Good news is we know what he looks like and have a name. Bad news-”

“Twelve years and he hasn’t been caught?” said Colter. He grabbed his beer, tightening his grip around it but not drinking. Yet. He steadied himself, breathing deeply. “When do you lose sight of him normally?”

“He’s not shy. After a kill, he sticks around the area for a day or so. We get footage of him at coffee shops, stores. We’ll track him to bus stations and then we lose him.”

“He doesn’t take the bus?” You shook your head. Colter pursed his lips, flipping through the pages of your files. “You think he changes appearance in station bathrooms and sneaks out with the crowd?”

“That is the agency’s working theory,” you said, Colter giving you his attention. You were no stranger to working under scrutiny but his intense stare made you feel like you were back in the academy on your first day.

“You disagree with that.” You nodded, turning your computer around, his eyes darting around the screen, pondering the data. “Huh. You think he uses the station as a cover and heads into the sewer system through maintenance.”

“I have…been told this is impossible and there’s no way he has done this in eleven separate cities and no one has been the wiser.” You took the computer back, Colter flipping up a page. “It doesn’t matter. We need-”

“It does and I agree with you. He always goes into the station wearing gray trousers, black boots and a black hoodie. That could easily be covering a maintenance jumpsuit that he uses to gain access and then escape without watchful eyes.”

“But it tells us nothing about where he might be now,” you said. Colter smirked, finally taking a sip of his beer. “I know what you’re thinking but countless stores sell basic jumpsuits.”

“You’re right. But if I were him, I wouldn’t want to get behind the wheel of a car smelling like crap while I get out of town. Now this guy is tall, right? He’s not going to want to walk more than a few miles at most hunched over in a sewer. Let me see your computer.”

You slid it over, Colter pulling up a map of the city, dropping a pin on the bus station. He typed something and then his phone was ringing, Colter muttering something to someone named Bobby before he hung up. A few seconds passed before he smiled, turning it back to you, a giant red circle on the screen.

“People would notice if a guy came in stinking to a hotel or motel. My best bet, he has a hideaway somewhere in that perimeter. My guy is looking into foreclosures, rentals, abandoned properties. We’ll hear back soon.”

“You could be wrong. You’re making a pretty big assumption based on the fact the guy wouldn’t want to sit in his own stench.” Colter shrugged, holding up his hands.

“I might be. Or I might be right. What’s the harm in looking?” You sat back, crossing your arms, glancing out his wide back window to the darkness beyond.

“I’m meant to be Dory’s handler. I sleep in her house, I am by her side almost twenty four seven. I cannot spend time kicking down doors and I won’t be able to get my boss to approve more field agents to go off on a wild goose chase.” Colter cocked his head, licking his lips. “What?”

“You already figured all this shit out about the perimeter on your own,” he said, leaning forward. You sighed, Colter shaking his head. “They turned you down when you brought it up.”

“Like I said, I’ve been told it’s impossible.” You grabbed your beer, picking at the paper label. “I was the junior lead on the case. I was demoted to protective services when I presented my idea. I was told it was childish and clearly I was not ready for difficult case work. If I go off on my own and they find out, I’m fired.”

“Then we won’t let them find out,” he said. “I have an idea.”

“Well that was mortifying,” you said twenty minutes later after hanging up the phone, Colter smirking from the drivers seat. “Oh, shut up. It was your shitty idea.”

“They seem to have bought it,” he said, still smiling as you glared. “You do this thing with your nose when you get embarrassed.”

You flipped him off, Colter chuckling before heading down the road out of the parking lot and towards the perimeter circle form the bus station.

“I can’t believe I asked for a night off for a fake date with you,” you mumbled, pressing your fingers to your temple and rubbing.

“Well you were drooling over me at the bar and your little agent friend and Dory seeing it certainly helped.” You smacked his arm, Colter feigning pain.

“First off, I did not drool. Second, you are objectively attractive and I allowed to appreciate good looking men. Third, you are lucky I’m overworked and my boss was happy I’m taking some time off to recharge.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard your partner say they wished you a happy trip to pound town tonight.” You growled audibly, Colter laughing to himself.

“One more word and I will arrest you, Shaw,” you said. He held up his hands, that stupid smile still on his face. “Don’t be cocky.”

“Interesting choice of words.”

“Someone kill me now,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest, your vest heavy underneath your hoodie.

“Seriously though, thank you for doing this with me. It’s a lot safer having backup,” he said. You nodded, knowing fully well that if you did find your killer, tonight was most likely your last night as an agent.

“Yeah well…I’m only letting you do this because Dory told us all about how you were raised. You can handle yourself if it comes down to it.” The air was quiet, the jovialness slipping away with a single breath.

“I’m sorry you were laughed out of the room,” he said, turning down a quiet street. “We might not be right but it’s worth investigating.”

“They were looking for any excuse to move me down the ladder after my boss’ son started in the office. He took my old job the little shit,” you said. “Straight out of the academy, never even seen a dead body and he’s working a damn serial killer case.”

“I see you hold no resentment,” he said. You rolled your eyes, Colter clearing his throat. “For what it’s worth, I’d rather have the woman that gives more of a shit about my sister than her job than have the nepo baby ridin’ shotgun.”

“So you know I’ll probably lose my job tonight,” you said, Colter humming. “I won’t if we don’t find the guy.”

“We both know odds are good we’ll find him,” he said, sparing you a look when you stopped a red. He had a look of…softness, a sad smile there. “Thank you for protecting her.”

“Well, at least I won’t have to look at nepo baby’s stupid face anymore. He looks like a smug little prick,” you said.

“Is he good looking?”

“God no. Ugly as sin like his dad.” Colter chuckled, a quiet one leaving your lips.

“Looks like you got an upgrade then,” he said. “Even if you do drool.”

“Just shut up and drive, Shaw.”

Three hours and twenty eight minutes later, you were staring at the ceiling of a rental house, blood dripping down from your temple from where you’d been pistol whipped in the face. Your body told you to make sound, move, call out for Colter who was at the front of the house. But your lungs weren’t working, the breath knocked out of you.

A dark shadow leered down at you, his eyes narrowed.

“Little miss roommate,” he said, squatting down, pushing the gun that’d fallen from your hands away. He cocked his head, resting a hand over your throat, stopping you from getting the air you desperately needed. He squeezed harder, pushing up your hoodie with the other one, tsking when he saw your vest. “Come on, sweetie. Look at me. Get a real good look at me, Y/N.”

He let you get a rush of air in your lungs as your eyes drifted over. The man looked slightly off somehow as he reached behind his neck. There was a sound of rubber as a synthetic mask was ripped off, a sweaty face appearing underneath that made your eyes go wide. He spun the mask around before setting it down beside him, fixing his hair as he applied more pressure again.

“I know you have questions,” he tutted, patting your face as you squeezed his wrist. “Come on, really?”

Something sharp pricked your shoulder, a syringe pulled back as you felt your limbs get heavy. He backed off with choking you at least when all you could do was manage a limp grasp of him.

“That’s better,” he said. “So I-”

He went down the ground hard, Colter standing over his prone form, eyes shooting to you. “He stabbed you with a sedative because this sick fuck likes his victims to be awake. You should be okay.”

“Nepo baby,” you mumbled, Colter tilting his head like he heard you wrong. “Him. Nepo baby.”

Colter got him restrained and tied to a nearby radiator before helping you sit up against the wall. He was shoving a cup of coffee in your hand by the time your attacker was waking up, your body heavy but a few sips of the scalding hot liquid had you feeling a tiny bit better.

“Good morning,” said Colter, his voice way, way darker than you thought it could go. Franklin was fully awake now and staring at you. “I interrupted your monologue before. How rude of me. Continue.”

“I ain’t saying shit-” he said, cutting himself off when Colter pressed the cold barrel of his gun right in Franklin’s crotch.

“It probably won’t kill you but you’re going to think of me every time you take a piss the rest of your life. So, I’d take a second and really think about the next words out of your mouth because you’ve tried to kill my sister and you’ve tried to kill my friend over there and I am more than happy to pull this trigger if you don’t tell us everything. Now.”

Franklin slammed his head back against the wall, muttering curses to himself.

“His name is Franklin,” you said, forcing yourself to chug back the coffee.

“Franklin,” sang song Colter, his hand grasping Franklin’s chin. “You have three seconds before I start shooting off body parts. Three. Two-”

“I did it! All of it. My dad found out and…”

“Fuck. He protected you,” you spit out.

“You figured out where I hid so he made you a laughing stock, got you demoted for being crazy. We knew we had to get rid of you so we…set up a failed job. I picked the blonde girl cause I thought she was pretty-”

Colter pressed his gun down hard, Franklin making a guttural sound in response.

“Keep talking,” Colter snarled. Franklin caught his breath, closing his eyes.

“He put you on protective detail and I was going to lay low until he pulled the whole detail except for you and the blonde girl. I was going to make it look like I got the jump on you before I played with the blonde…and you…before I…” he trailed off.

“Play with the blonde? With Y/N?” growled Colter. “That’s my baby sister. That’s my friend.”

“Walk away, Colter,” you said, forcing yourself to your feet. You swiped the gun from his hand and sat down in a nearby chair, aimed at Franklin. Colter didn’t move though, his body like solid steel. “Colter.”

He forced himself away, breathing hard and putting his back to Franklin. You imagined you looked like shit. Your head was pounding and you felt like going to sleep and running a marathon at the same time.

“I want you to call my old partner, Denny Piplin. Tell him everything. He has friends in high places and will make sure a trusted agent is watching Dory when shit goes down in that office.” You handed him your phone, Colter’s eyes darting around your face. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said, taking the phone. After a moment, his jacket was pressed against your head, his strong hand holding it there as he flipped through your phone contacts. “You need a hospital.”

“I’ll go when this bastard is behind bars,” you said, lifting your chin at Franklin. “And you over there? You don’t make a sound, move a muscle, or else I give him back the gun and let him do whatever the hell he wants with it.”

You swore Franklin didn’t move a millimeter for the next hour while you waited for agents to arrive. An ambulance showed up as they escorted him out to the back of a car, driven away to the field office most likely. You got lucky and your cut looked worse than it was thankfully.

“Hey,” said Colter, taking a seat next to you on the front steps of the house.

“Hey,” you said, holding an icepack to your head. He shifted and you felt his fingers brush yours, holding the pack in place for you so you could lower you arm. You sleepily smiled at him, Colter returning it. “Were you really going to shoot his balls and dick off?”

“Would you think less of me if the answer was yes?” You shook your head, resting it against his shoulder. “How long until the sedative wears off?”

“A few hours they think. How’s Dory?”

“Fine. She’s back home. Some agents are going to spend the night with her. You old partner picked them himself.”

“Good. Denny’s a good guy,” you said, shivering when a gust of wind caught you. Colter shrugged out of his only slightly bloody jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. “You were laying it on kind of thick in there with the ‘you hurt my friend’ schtick, you know.”

“It wasn’t a schtick. He was going to do vile things to you too. That pissed me off.”

“Still, you didn’t have to…” you stopped talking when he sat you upright, his eyes darting to your lips.

“There you go, doing that thing with your nose again,” he said, cupping your cheek. “You deserve to protected too, even if you are a badass, got it?”

You nodded, Colter smiling. “Good girl.”

“You think just because you saved me, you get to kiss me?”

“No, I think I get to kiss you because you think I’m objectively attractive.”

“Shut up, Shaw,” you said, brushing your lips against his as you heard a squeal nearby that made you both flinch.

“Aha! I so knew you two were into each other!” said Dory, suddenly standing there with Denny trailing behind. “You guys were so eye fucking each other at the bar.”

“Dorian,” groaned Colter as Denny shook his head and came over, giving you a big hug.

“She’s right, he is cute,” he chuckled, earning a slap on the back from you. “What’d I tell you when I retired? Stay out of trouble. What’d you go and do?”

“It wasn’t my fault I’m smart,” you said, a wave of fatigue rolling over you. Colter placed a hand on your back when you wobbled.

“We need to get her somewhere she can sleep this off,” he said.

“Come on kid, the guest room is all made up.” You were about to protest that he should stay with Dory when Denny cut you off. “I’m sure Colter can handle it. You can see them in the morning.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, both men helping you stand and over to Denny’s truck. They shared a word in private after getting you inside, your eyes drifting shut now that you were in the nice warm cabin.

“Y/N,” said Denny with the thud of a car door. You hummed, not bothering to even look at him. “You need anything?”

“I wouldn’t say no to food truck tacos before I pass out,” you said.

“That’s my old partner,” he chuckled. “Let’s get you some dinner.”

Two Days Later

“Hey,” you said when Colter pulled up outside Denny’s place in his truck. Between countless meetings at the office, you hadn’t been able to catch up with him and Dory yet. You didn’t miss the way your stomach did a small flutter at seeing him again.

“Y/N,” he said with a subtle smile, walking around the truck, stopping where you were washing your dirt bike at the end of the driveway. “You trail ride?”

“Denny got me into it when I first got paired up with him years ago. He let’s me keep my gear in his garage. I think I might take a trip, hit some trails I always wanted to.” Colter nodded, biting his bottom lip. “Dory told you I quit?”

“Yeah. Not that I blame you,” he said. You wiped off the frame with a towel, Colter picking up the spare nearby and getting the wheel spokes for you. “I was thinking of heading over towards Park City.”

“For a job?” you asked.

“Play,” he said, standing and handing you the towel. He shoved his hands in his jean pockets, cocking his head and doing that little shrug again. “I’m pretty decent at mountain biking myself you know.”

“Oh, are you?” you said, crossing your arms.

“He’s flirting, moron,” said Denny as he passed you on the way to the mailbox. You shot him your best bitch face, Colter stifling a laugh as Denny returned with a package and some mail in hand. “She’d love to go.”

“Denny! He could be a serial killer!” Denny ignored you, looking over Colter.

“She’s never been good with boys you have to understand. Always ends up with duds,” he said, Colter nodding with a smirk. “Little bit of a workaholic this one. Probably a good fit for you though. Take her on one of those reward jobs when you two are done with the mountains.”

“Angela!” you shouted, Denny’s wife popping her head up where she worked in the flowerbed by the front of your house.

“Oh he has a point, honey. You are awful with men.”

“I should have let Franklin kill me,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. Denny dodged your attempt at smacking his arm, laughing as he ran back towards the house. Your face was hot when you found Colter’s cheeky smile. “Let me guess. I’m doing the thing with my nose again.”

“So what if you are?” he teased, looking down at your bike, nodding his head. “If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty awful with women too.”

“I imagine it’s hard to do the relationship thing with a job like yours.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, pursing his lips. “We could just…go have some fun for a week. No strings.”

“Is that what you want? No strings?” you asked. For the first time, you noticed a small flush to his cheekbones, his eyes intense as they met yours. “So you can get flustered. Good to know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, hiding his shyness behind a cocky smile.

“Answer the question, Shaw.” He looked up and then over your head.

“I wouldn’t…mind strings…with the right person if that makes sense.”

“You two can take down a serial killer but you can’t ask each other out? No wonder your generation is screwed,” said Denny, going past again with a dirty car mat in hand.

“You, quiet,” you said, pointing at him when he flipped you off. “You, Shaw. Park City. Whoever gets down the mountain fastest pays for dinner. Then you take me a reward job and by the end of all that, I think we’ll know how we want things to proceed, got it?”

“Yes ma'am.”

Two Weeks Later

“What are you giggling at?” you asked Colter. He chuckled underneath you in the airstream bed, his arm tightening over your waist. “Are you a giggly cuddler? Is this what I’m discovering?”

“I’m just thinking Dory’s never going to let us live this down when we tell her,” he said, pushing down the sheet on your back to trace up and down your exposed spine.

“I know,” you sighed. “How will she ever live with the fact you’re slow as fuck down a mountain?”

He gently smacked your ass, pointing a finger when you grinned. “You cheated.”

“You’re a sore loser,” you said, his hand brushing the hair out of your face, thumbing over your mostly healed mark on your temple. Your chin rested on his chest, Colter continuing to stroke over the faded scar. “If you’re thinking of telling Dory about us, does that mean you want me to stay?”

“I like the strings,” he said quietly, his warm hands traveling up and down the sides of your body. “This is what it’s like. A job, downtime, a job, downtime. S’all I know.”

“I get that,” you said, lowering your eyes to his chest. “It’s easy to get wrapped up in the job and forget to have a life.”

“Why’d you really quit? They would have promoted you back up I’m sure,” he said.

“They broke my trust. The only person that had my back was you.” He tipped his head forward, kissing your forehead. “I want to stay.”

“Well that’s good considering I wasn’t letting you go.” You smiled when he tucked your hair behind your ear. “So. Ladies choice. We take another job we don’t yet have or we head over to Washington, hit some trails, maybe I show you some rock climbing basics. Or we stay here in bed until further notice.”

“Such hard choices,” you said, Colter grinning and shifting his leg so you felt him poking you in the thigh. You sat upright, narrowing your eyes. “If you make a hard joke, I swear-”

“You’ll what?” he teased, flipping you around, body hovering over yours. You frowned up at him, Colter kissing the tip of your nose. “So you don’t want the bed option?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Shaw.” He raised his eyebrows, a dark smirk on his lips that had your hand flying to his mouth. “Do not say it you filthy gutter mind. Nothing in my mouth. Got it?”

“You make it so easy though,” he chuckled, burrowing his face in your neck, kissing under your jaw. You purred, Colter humming. “That’s my girl.”

“Bed. Washington. Job. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like you like the strings too,” he mumbled trailing his hand down between your bodies. “I can’t blame you. You do drool over me.”

“Why don’t you shut that mouth of yours, Shaw and put it to better use?” you said, slipping your hands to his hips.

“Whatever you say, beautiful.”

____________

A/N: Let me know what you thought and if you'd like to see more Colter x reader stuff in the future!

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biggerbearficrecs · 4 months ago

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November 2024 Fic Recs

A list of what I've read/am reading this month. It's going to be a short one unfortunately because I haven't had much time but hopefully next month will be a little longer.

Rough Around the Edges by @lila-lou (Jack Durfy x Reader)

Summary: Jack's day couldn’t have gotten any worse. Exhausted from a grueling shift under the scorching sun, he just wanted to crash at home with some wings and a football game. But his plans for a quiet night were shattered when the racket from his new neighbor echoed through the walls.

Teaser:

Jack groaned in annoyance, rubbing a hand across his face. Just great. As if the week hadn’t been exhausting enough, now he had to imagine his weekend being a noisy mess thanks to whoever was moving in. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. Instead, it seemed like his weekend would be filled with endless bangs and thuds coming from across the hall.

Another loud thud echoed through the hallway, followed by a soft “Ouchy” that made him roll his eyes. He could already picture some clueless person fumbling around with boxes, knocking stuff over, and generally making a racket. The kind of person who probably had no idea how to move without turning it into a circus.

Jack shifted the bucket of wings under his arm, debating whether or not to knock on the door. Part of him wanted to just ignore it, retreat into his apartment, and hope for the best. But the other part, the more frustrated part, was tempted to knock and tell them to keep it down. He’d had a long week, and he deserved a break, damn it.

Finally, he took a deep breath and approached the door, raising his fist to knock.

Just then, the door swung open unexpectedly, and there you were, looking frazzled and clearly unprepared for company. You were wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts and a tank top, your skin glistening slightly from the heat. Your hair, a messy bun on top of your head, looked like it had been thrown together in a hurry, and you had no makeup on, not that you needed it.

Jack blinked, momentarily caught off guard, staring at the younger woman standing in front of him.

You, on the other hand, were equally surprised to see the man standing in front of you. He had to be at least double your age, but damn, he was handsome—broad-shouldered, his shirt sticking to his body in places from what looked like a long day of work, and those tired, slightly irritated eyes that made him seem like someone who didn’t put up with much nonsense.

“Uh… hi”, you blurted, your voice a little breathless from all the moving. You glanced down at the two boxes sitting in front of your door, which you had come out to grab. “Sorry about the noise. I swear, I’m almost done”.

Jack let out a deep breath. “Yeah, I was kind of wondering if you were trying to tear the place down before you even moved in”.

You laughed, a soft, self-conscious sound, running a hand over your face. “Feels like it. I’m not exactly an expert at this moving thing. Been here all day, and I’m pretty sure I’ve destroyed more stuff than I’ve unpacked”.

Jack’s eyes flicked over you, taking in the sight of your casual shorts and tank top, the slight sheen of sweat on your skin. His gaze wasn’t lewd, but it was unmistakably assessing, like he was trying to figure you out.

Get Stuffed by @zepskies (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

Teaser:

“Aw, hell yeah,” Dean mutters. He rubs his hands together and surveys the immovable feast that’s about to get shoveled into his mouth.

This Christmas marks roughly your first year living with the brothers Winchester in the bunker, and a few months after your first anniversary with Dean.

He’s made it very clear that he enjoys your cooking, especially of Cuban food. So you’ve gone all out for Christmas: white rice and your grandmother’s recipe for black beans, boiled yuca with plenty of garlic, bread drizzled with more garlic and olive oil, and Dean’s favorite…

“What’s this part of the pig called again?” he asks. And he uses a large fork to spear into the mountain of roasted meat that you’ve already cut and piled onto a platter.

You come in from the kitchen with the bread in hand, placing it on the dinner table. You sidle up behind him, where he’s seated.

“The shoulder,” you say, squeezing both of Dean’s. He hums in interest as you press a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s called pernil. Marinated with garlic, mojo, bunch of good stuff.”

He predictably steals a juicy piece of meat, plopping it into his mouth. He grins while he chews and makes a happy sound.

“Ohoho, yeah.”

You share an amused look with Sam, who sits beside his brother. By the time you’ve found your seat on Dean’s other side, he’s already serving you and Sam the same hefty portions he serves himself.

You know for a fact you’re only going to eat about half of your plate. Sam manages to polish his off. Dean does as well…and serves himself twice more before you break out the dessert.

“Please tell me that’s a flan,” Dean says, drumming his fingers on the table.

“How the hell are you still hungry?” Sam asks.

The look on his face says he’s half entertained, half disgusted. Dean is still sucking on the crispy skin on a piece of pork. He licks the juices off his fingers.

“Have I taught you nothing?” he says. “There’s always room for dessert.”

He tosses you a wink, followed closely by a suggestive smirk.

Spicy Things by @homicidal-slvt (Russell Shaw x Reader)

Summary: Russell likes your spicy attitude.

Teaser:

You're watching this man drizzle sriracha all over his fries like some sort of hot sauce goblin. Why in the hell did you agree to go out with him? You'll never know.... Somehow that goofy smile of his charmed you into it.

"Russ.... Do you always eat like this?"

"Possibly."

With an exaggerated eye roll you take another bite of your burger.

"What can I say... I like things a little spicy."

With a wink thrown your way - you nearly choke. That was cheesy. Awful. Stupid... God damn it, you've got it bad.

Under the Montana Skies by @spnbaby-67 (Beau Arlen x Reader)

Teaser:

The air was crisp and filled with the scent of pine as you stood outside Beau Arlen's trailer in the heart of Montana. You and Beau had been friends for years, but lately, something had shifted between you two. The tension in the air was palpable, and tonight, under the starry Montana sky, it was finally time to address it.

Beau, with his rugged charm and flannel shirt, looked at you with those piercing green eyes. "You know, darlin', I've been wantin' to do this for a long time," he said, his voice a low drawl that sent shivers down your spine.

No One Will Notice by @deanwanddamons (Demon!Dean x Reader)

Summary: Y/N hopes that she sees the mysterious Dean again.

Teaser:

He had returned.

You smirked as your gaze met the emerald green eyes you would never forget.

Dean sauntered across the room towards you, his confidence oozing out of him in waves as he expertly navigated the patrons and tables that were in his way. He avoided them with ease, even though his intense stare never left your face.

When he reached the edge of the raised platform you were performing on, he dropped down onto a bar stool, still not averting his eyes from yours as you stepped forward until your stilettos were directly in line with his broad shoulders. His arrogance was obvious for all to see when, without taking any notice of the fact numerous other men were vying for your attention by waving dollars at you, he reached into his pocket and produced a wad of cash, throwing it down onto the surface in front of him.

“Go ahead. Pick it up,” he mouthed, popping the P.

A wide grin pulled at your lips as you crouched down before him, balancing precariously on your high heels, your inner thighs, and clothed mound level with his freckled face as one large hand wrapped around your hip, jerking you towards him which almost toppled you over. This action forced you to sit and scoot forward, your ass hitting the edge of the stage. Pushing his chair back, he tugged you down onto his lap, totally oblivious to or seemingly not caring about the ‘no touching’ rule the bar had in place, his calloused palm roaming over your hot skin.

“Hey, sweetheart. Remember me?” He questioned.

“How could I forget?” You whispered, your noses touching, lips only an inch apart.

Rightfully Deceived by @jessjad (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Teaser:

The man she was about to marry was Dean Winchester, Earl of the Winchester Clan. Rich, a lot of money to his name. Famous for his stubborn and unyielding business acumen. And devilishly good looking. Tall, broad shoulders, a voice as deep as the ocean and eyes as green as a sea of jades.

Yeah, Y/N has been in love with him since the first time she had seen him. But unfortunatly to her, he only seemed to have eyes for her younger sister, Helena.

The first time Dean visited her fathers castle, Y/N had welcomed him in and offered food and drinks. With a warm smile that made her heart flutter he accepted it. Her father appeared only minutes later and the men started a friendly conversation, resulting in Dean offering her father that he could always ask for help if needed. Since Dean had bought the land next to theirs it was the right thing to do. Not knowing then that five years later, her father would take him up on that offer.

Just when Dean was about to leave again, Helena had come in from the outside. Some hay in her hair and on her dress, indicating that she came fresh from the staples. And that was the moment Y/N saw it. The change in Dean's face. His eyes had widened a little, his mouth a little slack. Helena had smiled at him and all of a sudden he was lost for words.

That's when Y/N's heart sank to the ground. From then on it seemed as if she became invisible.

Stay by @bullet-prooflove (Colter Shaw x Reader)

Summary: Colter can never ask for you to stay.

Teaser:

It’s been three months since Colter last had his hands on you, since he made love to you in the Airstream, the sound of rain pattering on the roof. He remembers falling asleep tangled up in you, his fingers combing lightly through your hair, his heart thundering against yours.

He also remembers waking up alone, his hand smoothing over the vacant space as he sighed because he’d always been the one that left and he hadn’t realised just how bad that felt until it happened to him.

It’s over coffee that morning that he sits, watching the droplets cascade down the windows and thinks about why it’s different with you.

That's all I've been able to get through so far! Please forgive my graphics btw. Not so great with those but I wanted to put a little visual with each one.

I haven't figured out yet if I'm going to post at the beginning of each month or mid-month. I'm still trying to figure that all out, but please definitely follow this blog and set notifications for those postings if you would like to see each list when they post. All review reblogs of these works will also be posted here moving forward.

Oh, and before I forget...

Thank you!!! 💕💕

all dividers by @saradika-graphics

#biggerbearficrecs #november 2024 #dean winchester fanfiction #colter shaw fanfiction #russell shaw fanfiction #beau arlen fanfiction #jack durfy fanfiction #demon!dean fanfiction

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zepskies · 10 months ago

Text

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk.

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor.

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.”

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely.

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad.

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gather your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

“Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

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

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

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

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

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 1

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

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

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

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

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

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

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

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

#A Line and a Half #russell shaw #tracker #russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw fanfic #dory shaw #colter shaw #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #russell shaw series #tracker series #zepskies writes

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months ago

Text

Pairing: Russell Shaw xf!reader, Reader POV

Summary: The last thing that you wanted was to be woken up in the middle of the night by Colter Shaw for a favor, but when he shows up toting a ruggedly handsome man with green eyes you decide to forgive him. Reader is the niece of Velma and Teddi!

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ just in case I missed anything. Blood, Cleaning Out A Wound, Mentions of Allergies? Gunshots, Some Cursing, A Bit of Sexual Innuendo, Sexual fantasy/reader has active imagination, Self-deprecating Thoughts/Body Issues (reader), Mentions of Infidelity, Reader Is A Single Mom, Appearance Of Creepy-Jerk Ex Husband, Probably a Poor Description Of What It’s Like To Be A Single Mom (I tried my best, please I do not mean to offend anyone❤️), Russell Shaw might be a little bit OOC. Reader is occasionally described as "curvy."

Song Inspiration: Long As I Can See The Light By Creedence Clearwater Revival

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! This is my first time writing for Russell Shaw, so, please be gentle. 😅

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: I finally watched Tracker… Could you tell? 😂

Sunday nights, in your opinion, were the worst.

It was like the last few moments of freedom before you were thrust into a busy work week, like the last few rays of light before the coming darkness that you barely survived with copious amounts of coffee and bloodied fingertips. Monday always loomed, but never as much as on Sunday nights.

The dull thud of your phone vibrating against your wooden bedside table grates on your ears and pulls you from the sweet precipice of sleep before you can fall into the void.

It felt as if you’d just collapsed into your bed and one look at the alarm clock on your bedside table as you blinked your bleary eyes confirmed it. It was 3:58 am, which meant you had been in bed for exactly three minutes.

You were still covered in chocolate cupcake batter, pink frosting, and rainbow sprinkles from the last six hours you'd spent in the kitchen making gluten free, sugar free, and peanut free cupcakes for a bake sale at your son’s school.

Even though you hadn't volunteered Stephanie Jacobson, or rather the wicked witch of the PTA, had cornered you in the pick-up line on Friday afternoon to remind you of your "duties as a parent" and the coming bake sale to support the building of the new gym. And then she’d handed you a list of student allergies and asked you to create something that was safe for everyone.

Taste be damned.

Why the school needed a new gym you didn't know, but the guilt that rose when Stephanie mentioned your "duties as a parent" was enough to make you say yes to whatever she asked you.

You had enough guilt already about raising your kids without a stable father figure, and the last thing you needed was guilt from a stuck up bitch in the PTA.

Stephanie reminded you of the girls in high school that used to pick at their food, the ones that knew exactly what to say to make you feel like a freak, the ones who dated the football players and spent their Friday nights wearing cheerleading uniforms and waving pom poms, and the ones who basically made everyone else's life a living hell.

Everything about her screamed superior. The flawless way she curled her perfect platinum blonde hair, the stylish clothes she wore than never seemed to have a wrinkle or a mashed carrot smeared on the pants, the supple breasts that she swore were real, a perfectly toned stomach that never seemed to change despite her having a child two months ago, and the easy way she handled all of her three children with a flourish of her left hand that housed a 6 karat diamond ring from her gorgeous husband that was so attentive, perfect, and rich that it made you feel sick to your stomach.

All of which anyone could read on her mommy blog that she'd dubbed "Little Mistakes Make Perfect Lessons," and the same blog that she'd created an empire from.

Fuck, you hated her.

Mostly because despite everything you tried you never had enough time in the day to look as flawless as she did.

Your hair never seemed to be as bouncy or perfectly styled, you never had time to put makeup on, you always had mashed carrot on your pants or some form of cheerio or baby food, as many times as you tried to carve out time for the gym you never seemed to make it, the small ring you'd once wore on your finger was sitting idle in your jewelry box upstairs where it had been for the past year after your husband of six years told you that he met someone else, and your stomach and your breasts… you didn't want to think about that right now.

You had two kids and you weren't going to pretend that it did nothing to your body, any part of your body. And as many times as you saw all the other mothers around you who were proud of the way they looked, you never had their confidence, especially not after the comments that your ex-husband had made each time the two of you finally had some time to be alone together.

But that wasn't to say you hated being a mom, you loved it, wouldn't change it for the world. It was just sometimes you wished you had a little help, that, and you wished that Mondays didn't exist.

You groan as you reach for the phone that still vibrates desperately on your bedside table and flip it over to see who's calling before you answer it.

"Colter, why the hell are you calling me at four am?" You half moan, pulling the comforter up over your head as if that'll make Monday go away.

You'd been close to murder several times, first when you found your husband in your bed with his nineteen year-old secretary, second when your local coffee shop was out of espresso and you did your entire shift at the hospital with no coffee, and Colter Shaw waking you up at almost four in the morning was quickly becoming number three.

"Because I didn't want to wake up Emma or Luke. Can you open the door?" He replies, stating the names of your children, sounding slightly out of breath.

"What door?" You groan again, eyes still shut wishing that this was just a bad dream and Colter wasn't calling you because he needed your help… again.

"The front door. Please, I need you to let me in."

"Why are you here? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow? Did you try to call Teddi or Vel-"

"I'll explain when you come open the door."

"By doing that I'd have to get up."

"Please."

You hesitate. Colter didn't usually say please, let alone twice whenever he showed up needing your help.

You'd met him by accident.

Sure your Aunt Teddi had talked about the "rewardist" that she and your Aunt Velma worked with, but you hadn't been expecting to ever meet him. But when Colter got shot on a job and showed up at Teddi and Velma's home you'd helped patch him up. You'd been there picking up your six year old son Luke and your three year old daughter Emma, after work. Teddi and Velma watched them for you when your deadbeat ex Lance couldn't be bothered to give you the support you needed.

Which was all the time despite his continuous arguing that he was in their lives enough and if anything it was your fault that he didn't have more time with them.

Each time he said that it made you want to slam his head in the door of his brand new bright red BMW, the one he'd bought right after you found him in your bedroom plowing his secretary now girlfriend Crystal. Or as you liked to remember her, the girl who still believed that Santa Clause existed and that the U.S government was hiding him from the world.

But Colter had been hurt and it was just fate that you were there at your aunts home to pick up your kids.

Being an ER nurse meant that you knew how to patch Colter up and it wasn't long before he went on his way. That was about four months ago and since then you'd talked to him occasionally when he'd pop by at your aunts home or just to see if you could help him with something.

"Five minutes." You sigh.

This time you crawl out of bed, standing just to the side of it for a second shaking your head to clear the sleep, and grab the long sleeved blue colored duster/robe that was hanging on the back of your bedroom door. Navigating your way down the stairs in the dark as quietly as you can, while half asleep was difficult, but somehow you avoid falling to your death.

Unfortunate, because now you have to go see what Colter wants at freaking 4 am.

The second story home had been you ex-husband's idea, stated that the two of you needed "room to grow" and that the two of you were "investing in your future."

You frown at the thought.

Yeah, room to grow right into your fucking secretary.

As if you needed another blow to your self esteem, but looking at the skinny red-haired goddess that he'd traded you in for that was about as dumb as a rock had been enough to send you so low you might as well be navigating the Marianas Trench in a submarine with a Megalodon chasing after you.

Maybe that means I'd get to be with Jason Stratham.

That thought was welcome. Honestly the thought of any man was a comfort, especially in the dry spell you'd been having since -well- since you'd had Emma three years ago.

Not gonna think about that right now.

The smell of chocolate cupcakes hung heavy in the air as you crossed through the messy living room, wafting out through the open concept kitchen into the space. One look into the kitchen would show enough cupcakes to make anyone salivate, and yes maybe you'd eaten a few before going up to bed, but eating the chocolate didn't count if it was on Sunday night and you could always go to the gym tomorrow…

Yeah. Like that'll happen.

You open the front door. "Alright, somebody better be dying Colter or I swear that I'll-" You stop mid-sentence when you take in the scene on your porch.

Colter is standing there, looking worse for wear. His usual black jacket is gone, he's got a black eye and a scrape along one of his perfect cheekbones, but that's not who you're looking at.

Colter isn't alone.

There's a man leaning heavily on Colter, his muscular right arm is thrown across Colter's shoulders and due to the fact that the man is a little bigger than Colter, he's buckling slightly under his weight. The man is wearing a green army jacket that is soaked around his left shoulder in blood, his dark hair is falling long into his bearded face, and his skin is a few shades paler than it should be. But that doesn't make him any less handsome.

The man still manages to throw you a sly grin, brilliant green eyes shining beneath the strands of his dark hair. "I think you got your wish sweetheart."

"You're not dying Russell." Colter sighs as if he's annoyed. "Hi." He directs at you.

You do feel a little bit bad about saying that now, but you shake it off.

"What the hell happened?" You say as loud as you dare and pull the front door further open so Colter can drag the man, now named "Russell" into your home.

"Shoot out." Colter breathes. "Where do you want him?"

"Kitchen table." You say trying to reach for Russell's left arm to help Colter, but he groans low under his breath and you retract your hand.

"You've got to be a little gentle with me sweetheart." Russell laughs more to himself, but it comes out in a choked sound. "But you can have me wherever you want."

"Colter, he needs to go to the hospital." You say, following behind them, keeping your voice down. "I don't think that I can-"

"Can't, they'll report it. They have to report all gunshots, you know that." Colter grunts, helping Russell lay back on the large kitchen table. "Why are there so many cupcakes in here?"

"Bake sale at Luke’s school." You clip while waving a hand and looking down at Russell who is laying on the kitchen table.

You can't deny that he's attractive, even in this condition. Russell has the perfect ruggedly handsome features that would make the smartest girl stupid and combined with the piercing green eyes that shine beneath the hair that's fallen forward into his face, even you could see yourself being susceptible to his charm.

Fuck.

Deep down you know that Colter is right, that if he did go to the hospital they'd be required to report it and that meant police and an official report. You figured that it was the last thing that Colter wanted.

Then again the guy has so many marks on his record already. You eye the man on your kitchen table. Russell kinda looks like he would have a few marks too.

"Don't want who did this to find him." Colter clarifies.

"So instead you brought him to my house where my children are?" You cross your arms over your chest.

The fear that whatever Colter and Russell had stumbled upon following behind them to your home made a cold trickle of fear race down your spine.

"We weren't followed." Colter soothes. "I promise I'd never do that to you. And I've got Bobby doing a trace to make sure they don't come close."

He actually looks a little hurt that you'd think that of him. Colter was a lot of things, but uncaring was not one of them.

You relax, but don't apologize despite the guilt swimming in your gut. "Fine. Give me a second." You leave the room to find the first aid kit in the hall closet, the same one that you'd made for your aunts to keep at their house if Colter showed up in the middle of the night with this exact problem. You'd even been involved enough to show your aunts how to deal with a gunshot wound if you weren't there.

When you get back in the room, Colter is removing Russell's jacket, and Russell grits his teeth when it jostles his left arm.

You set down the kit and reach for the bottom of Russell's shirt to pull it up off him, and he chuckles.

"Aren't you going to buy me a drink first? Better yet we could have a few bottles of my home brew-"

"She's not going to help you, if you annoy her." Colter interrupts.

"I told you that I didn't need anyone's help, I'm perfectly fine- ow!" Russell exclaims when you accidentally yank the shirt over his left arm. "Your bedside manner is a little lacking." He grunts, but his eyes still twinkle with humor.

"Too bad. I'm tired and I've been making chocolate cupcakes for the past six hours, so you get what you get and you don't throw a fit."

"What?" Russell grins at the rhyme that you often tell your children.

You shake your head, and drop your eyes to his chest. There are two perfect circles on his right upper pectoral muscle, but not high enough to reach the collarbone and one in his left bicep where blood seeps around the bullets, but truthfully you're trying not to notice how perfectly muscular he is. There are dark splashes of tattoos against his skin, swirling around other scars that resemble slashes and bullet wounds that you wish to drag your fingertips across to study each mark, to memorize each one beneath the soft pads of your fingers.

How is he just as beautiful covered in blood?

You clear your throat to focus back at the task at hand, examining the current wounds. "Okay. The good news is that the one on your arm is through and through, but these two," Your hand hovers over the two on his right upper chest. "I've got to extract the bullets. Which means that this is going to hurt."

"Been through worse sweetheart."

Your eyes scan the rest of his scarred muscular chest thoughtfully. "Yeah, you have." You murmur it more to yourself than to Russell, but he still grins.

Colter's phone rings shrilly in the kitchen and he groans. "One second. Try not to make her want to kill you Rus."

"No promises little bro."

Oh, so this is Colter's brother.

You'd heard little bits and pieces about Colter's brother, mostly second hand from your Aunt Velma. One of the best things about going over to Teddi and her home was sitting in the living room and hearing Velma gossip about everything she heard from Teddi while drinking wine and eating fancy cheese that you could never afford.

Russell Shaw was no exception.

"Alone at last." Russell says with a wink. "I didn't think he'd ever leave."

"I'm going to get some water to clean these with." You reply, ignoring him, but when you turn away the end of your mouth quirks up into a smile.

He wasn't what you were expecting based on all the rumors that you'd heard from both of your aunts, in fact, you thought he was kind of charming.

You roll up your sleeves and wash your hands before turning back to Russell. He's sitting up on your kitchen table, hands braced on his sides, with his legs spread wide apart. He doesn’t look like someone with three gunshot wounds, and you wonder if this is a regular day for him. Colter certainly didn't get shot that much.

"So are you a rewardist too?" You ask standing between his legs and trying not to focus on the warmth of his breath against your collar bone.

"Naw. I work for a private security contractor." He breezes.

"Oh." You swallow, looking up into his green eyes for a minute. They're even more beautiful up close, green with flecks of gold around the iris that flicker in the light like stars. "Is it okay if I touch you?"

"You don't gotta ask me that sweetheart, the answer will always be yes."

You flush and brace your hand on his left shoulder, before pouring water into the two wounds on the right side of his chest, trying to clean them the best you can before you extract what's left of the bullets. His skin is warm and smooth beneath the palm of your hand and it's difficult to focus.

Just pretend you're in the hospital and you're treating a patient. You take in a shallow breath. He's just a patient and he's not that good looking.

You know you're lying to yourself, but you were trying your best. It probably didn’t help given the current dry spell you were in or the fact that he even smelled good. Something like gunpowder, leather, and a hint of something spicy that you bet was his shampoo. It prickled under your nose, and activated something in the back of your mind that was having a hard time being quiet. You hadn't been this close to a man you found attractive in a long time.

"Okay. This is going to hurt." You say as you look through the small medical kit that you'd grabbed from the hall closet for the tweezers, trying to calm the thudding of your heart.

"It's okay." Russell replies. "Do what you have to baby. I won't stop you."

You weren't prepared for the warmth that bloomed in the pit of your stomach when he called you baby in the wonderfully rough rumble of his voice.

A voice like that could convince me to jump into a pit filled with alligators with no regrets. Fuck. I'd bet that a voice like that could make me- FOCUS. I will focus. He is Colter's brother and he just got shot. He doesn't need you lusting over him.

Extracting the bullets is as painful for you as it is for him. Watching the way his face scrunches up in pain hurts you more than you thought it would. His hands grip the rim of the wooden kitchen table so hard that they're turning white, and Russell's jaw is clenched so tight that you're afraid that it's going to snap.

You squeeze his left shoulder to give him some comfort. "Almost done." You murmur, searching for the second bullet.

Russell lets out a breath when you finally fish out the other bullet and drop it into an empty cup with a resounding "ping" just as Colter walks back into the room looking worried.

"What?" Russell asks him, looking over your head at his brother.

"That was Bobby. He said that the trace we put on the phone just got a hit a few miles north of here." Colter states. "I'm gonna go check it out."

"Alright, I'll come with." Russell starts to get up, but you push him back with your right hand that you've still got pressed against his left shoulder. Difficult given the fact that he was almost twice the size of you and broader than anyone you'd ever seen. And also difficult because of the way you were trying to ignore how good it felt to feel the pull of his muscles beneath your hand.

"No. You still need stitches and I haven't finished patching you up." You clear your throat, but it still sounds a little hoarse.

"Baby as much as I like you ordering me around-“

"It's alright Russell, I've got this. Just stay here and let her take care of you." Colter interrupts.

Russell frowns at his younger brother. "I'm fine."

"You're not." Colter rolls his eyes. "Stay here. I'll be back in a few hours to pick you up." He turns to look at you. "I'm sorry that we woke you up-"

"It's okay." You shrug. "But you owe me."

"Just add it to my bill." Colter smirks.

Honestly, you weren't as angry as you were when you answered the phone. Something about Russell was different and you didn’t mind helping him at all.

He wasn't like anyone that you had ever met, certainly not in the circles you ran with.

All the dads from your mom friends were blue and white collar workers who worked in the big office buildings downtown, wore suits to work and were more straight-laced, but there was something refreshing about Russell.

He was mysterious, sexy, and his had this aura of self-resilience and survival that you found immensely attractive. Especially when compared to your ex, who couldn't survive without his mocha-caramel double shot latte or wifi.

Russell was the exact opposite of him and you found yourself wanting to know more. More about the almost beautiful scars that curved over his muscular body, more about each tattoo that he’d chosen, and more about him.

He seemed like the kind of guy that hid his trauma under easy smiles and jokes, the kind of person that shrugged off anything that seemed remotely serious with a well placed joke, but you could feel that there was something deeper beneath that he didn’t allow many to see.

And you wanted him to show you.

You weren't sure where any of this was coming from. Russell probably was about as stable and consistent as his brother, and you liked consistency. Spontaneity and surprises tended to make you anxious. But not with Russell.

Though the stability might have been an issue. You were a single working mother, which meant that you didn't want to introduce some random guy into your children's life just to have them get attached and him to bail with no strings attached and-

Calm down. You just met the guy, it's not like he's asking you out on a date.

When Colter leaves and after you’ve cleaned around the wounds the best you can with some alcohol, you realize just how quiet it is in your kitchen.

“You know, I think I’ve seen you before.” Russell says breaking the silence while you search for a needle and thread in the medical kit.

“Really? Where?" You ask looking up.

“In my dreams.”

“Wow." You smile at him. "That line is pretty cheesy."

You shift your right hand over to begin to sew up the wounds on his chest. Russell doesn't even wince when you push the needle through, almost as if he didn't notice it at all.

It made sense, given how many scars and tattoos covered his body. You remember what he said about "being through worse" and it made you feel bad for him, to worry about him. Odd given the fact that the two of you had just met.

"Well I'm a little distracted at the moment sweetheart. It's not often that I get such a beautiful woman to take care of me."

"I thought you didn't need my help?" You smirk.

"Maybe I did." He admits sheepishly.

"Mhmm."

"So how do you know my brother?"

“Why?”

“Trying to see if you’re off limits or not.” Russell tilts his head to the side and flashes a charming smile.

You laugh at his boldness. You’d never met someone so upfront before, it was refreshing. Most of the men you’d meet occasionally at work tended to beat around the bush and made you want to give them a map to get to the point. "We met when he got shot a few months ago."

"Oh so the two of you aren't-" He wiggles his eyebrows and you snort.

"No."

"Huh."

"What?"

"I was just wondering why not?"

"What?"

"Well, you're gorgeous, you're smart, and you're not scared of blood or gunshots. Colter really seems to be dropping the ball."

"Colter doesn't exactly have a stable lifestyle. And I'm kind of complicated."

You were, there wasn't any way around it.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I've got two kids."

Russell blinks in surprise. "Really?"

"Mhmm." You hum continuing your task, not phased by the blood at all.

His eyes trace your figure for a minute, making a shiver travel down your spine. It was the first time in a long time that you were okay with someone looking at you like that and to be honest, the first time that you wanted someone to look at you like that in a while.

After everything that happened with your ex-husband and his secretary you were more inclined to sit on your couch with a glass of wine and read away your troubles with a steamy romance novel that did more for you than any of your ex-husband's attempts to satisfy you. It also didn't help that you had no interest in going out with your few friends and meeting someone at a club who probably would never call you again and probably wouldn't be as enthusiastic to learn that you were a mom.

You'd only been on one date since you'd broken it off with your husband with your aunts accountant Jerry, and the date stuttered to a halt when he learned you had two children and weren't interested in having an open relationship.

"I wouldn't have guessed that."

“Really? The mountain of chocolate cupcakes wasn’t a clue?” You arch an eyebrow with a smirk, while gently tying off the string to close the first wound before moving on to the second.

“I thought you just really liked baking. And I’m okay with coming home every night to a mountain of chocolate cupcakes if it means you’re there too.” He winks.

“Not sure you want any of those.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’re gluten free, sugar free, and nut free.”

The horrified look on Russell’s face makes you feel like you’d just told him that hot dogs do in fact contain trace amounts of dog.

“Why on earth would you make them like that?! They're not even cupcakes anymore!" He exclaims.

You found it funny that he seemed more upset over the mutilation of the chocolate cupcakes than over being shot.

Maybe he's always like this?

"I know. I'm a monster." You sigh. "But Stephanie Jacobson said I had to." You let out a frustrated sigh with her name.

Bringing anything other than what she asked for was a suicide mission. The last person who did that was Gale Smith in the great Fourth of July Cook-out calamity of 2021. In Gale's defense, no one though that the bushes would catch fire so fast, but Stephanie had a memory like an elephant so Gale decided to transfer her children to the school one town over. The last thing you wanted was for your name to go down in history for the Cupcake Catastrophe of 2024.

Russell leans forward and lowers his voice like it's a secret. “Is Stephanie your imaginary friend?”

“No!” You laugh. “She’s this other mom at my son’s school who said I wasn’t living up to my ‘duties as a parent’ and that I needed to ‘participate.’”

"She sounds great."

"Oh yeah, we're practically best friends." You continue to work on the other wounds in the silence that follows.

"I bet you're a good mom." Russell says watching you with an unreadable expression. He's leaning a little bit towards you still, making the smell gunmetal, leather, spice, and just a hint of mint come through the space between the two of you.

Damn he smells really good.

"Uh-huh. You've known me for ten minutes and you haven't seen me with my children-"

"I can tell."

"Is that your superpower or something?" You reach for a bandage to lay over the wound in his chest smiling to yourself. "All the other useful superpowers like being bulletproof got taken?"

"I don't think it's useless if it makes you smile like that when I say it, sweetheart."

Your eyes flick upwards to Russell's face. His green eyes are shining in the light of your kitchen, his dark hair still hanging over his forehead, and he is still just as ridiculously handsome as he was the moment Colter dragged him through your front door. You don’t remember why you were so mad at Colter anymore.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too smooth for your own good?" You raise your eyebrow.

"No ma'am." Russell cracks an even wider smile and it makes you loose all feeling in your legs. He was just so effortlessly handsome that it made you want to do something stupid, like have sex with him on top of the same kitchen table that you serve blueberry pancakes to your children.

"Hmm." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Well, now you know and maybe now that you're aware, it could prevent you from getting shot."

"Are you saying I got shot because I'm too smooth?"

"Maybe."

"Because usually it has a different effect."

"Huh. Well in that case, maybe try using some of that to smooth things over and you'd avoid getting shot." You begin to wrap another fresh bandage around the bullet wound on his arm, bracing your free hand against his chest, trying to ignore the way his skin is warm and chiseled beneath your palm.

He had the kind of body that you'd never imagined actually existed. Russell Shaw looked like he walked out one of the romance novels you loved so much.

Hell, they should use pictures of him to make the book covers.

"I'll remember that next time." Russell pauses. "But then it means I wouldn’t get shot and I wouldn't get to have you patch me up."

"I guess not."

You didn't think that you'd smiled as much as you had in the past twenty minutes with him than you had your entire five year marriage. Not to mention that it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't trying to convince you why they should be allowed to have a cookie before dinner.

A charged silence passes through the air between the two of you, his eyes locked on yours sending goosebumps over your skin. You weren't sure if anyone had ever looked at you like that before. You'd noticed that most gave you the obligatory skate over, but Russell didn't. He looked at you as if he was studying you as if he were genuinely curious to know more.

Your eyes trace his broad shoulders, toned abdomen, and muscular arms, noting that he's the kind of strong and broad that was made to handle someone a little more curvy like you. And you'd be lying if you said that you hadn't thought about it more than once since Russell came through your front door.

You felt your mind sink into the fantasy of Russell pining you to the kitchen table and feeling the warmth of his rough hands against your body-

Snap out of it. The guy is bleeding, he got shot. He needs to rest.

"I think you'll survive." You smile pulling back from him to clear your head. It was much easier when you couldn't smell him as strongly. "And if Colter isn't going to be back for a few hours you can crash on the couch. It's not the most comfortable but-"

"I'm sure it's fine." Russell shrugs and stands from your kitchen table.

You try and fail to ignore how his muscles pull with the movement as he reaches for his shirt and you step forward to help him put it on, knowing that it might hurt with his injury. "Okay." You clear your throat, that has become thick all of a sudden. "And if you're hungry I've got plenty of cupcakes-"

"Please don't call them that. They're an disgrace to the cupcake name."

"Yeah, but the ones in the microwave are actually cupcakes. I had to make a few that were edible." You gesture with your hand and laugh at how quickly Russell goes to get one.

He doesn’t even bother to pull away the wrapping before he takes a bite and he audibly moans. Russell looks at you awestruck. "Holy shit, you made this? Where have you been all my life?"

"Shut up." You roll your eyes at him.

"I'm serious, this cupcake is my reason to keep living. Here I thought putting sriracha on French fries was the height of cuisine, but damn."

You could feel yourself blush bright red at his compliment. You weren't used to a man going out of his way to compliment you on something other than how you looked, but everything about Russell Shaw was refreshing and nothing like you expected.

"Thank you." You wait another second, watching him eat more of the cupcake and smash icing and flecks of chocolate over his chin. You laugh at him and hand him a paper towel. "You're worse than my three year old."

"Your three year old is a lucky kid, if she’s got a mom like you to make stuff like this for her."

It's like he wants me to fall in love with him. How can someone look so unbelievably cute and sexy while covered in chocolate cupcake?

Don't answer that.

"Sometimes I think I'm the lucky one. I love my kids-" You say before you can stop yourself. You hesitate afraid that it would send Russell for the hills when you brought up the fact that you loved your children.

"Yeah?" Russell's smile brightens as he wipes his face with the napkin.

"Yeah." You blink mildly shocked. Of all the people in the world to talk about your children with, you never expected someone like Russell Shaw. “I do."

Again he was surprising you, and talking to him was just so refreshing and it made you feel like your head had finally cleared, like your chest was lighter and you could actually talk to someone for real without putting out this together image of yourself you thought you had to when inside you were crumbling from the overbearing expectations of the people around you.

The silence is back, filling the kitchen with a palpable energy that you wonder if Russell can feel, but you shake it off.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning. It was nice to meet you Russell, but I'm sorry that you got shot." You smile.

"I'm not." Russell smiles. "I got to meet you."

"Alright Casanova, I need to go to bed, because my kids will wake me up in about two hours." You frown over at the couch. "There's a pillow and a blanket down the hall in the bathroom closet." You gesture with one hand. "I'll see you in the morning." You repeat because you're not too sure what to say.

"Yeah. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

You turn and walk up the stairs to your bedroom, feeling the thin blue robe swishing around your ankles as you do.

And as you fall into your bed all you can think about as you start to drift is the ruggedly handsome man downstairs, with the brilliant green eyes that crinkle with his smile, and the large hands rough from hard work, that seems to be more than what meets the eye.

The alarm clock on your bedside table might as well be employed by the devil for waking you up and the idea of smashing it to bits with the heavy metal table lamp that sits beside it crosses your mind. You weren't sure how many hours you'd gotten in, only that they weren't enough, and you were in desperate need of coffee.

You roll over on your back, looking up at your ceiling as you blink your eyes open, following the familiar sweeps of the paint brush that were left behind.

The memory of the night's events come back in full color and you stiffen remembering exactly why you'd gone to bed so late. Images of last night flash through your mind. Colter dragging a bloodied Russell through your front door, Russell sitting on your kitchen table looking much too attractive covered in blood, him flirting with you with a wide smile that made you feel warm from the inside out…

Oh fuck he's still on my couch. How am I going to explain that to my kids?

You dress in a flash and stumble down the stairs as quickly as you can, tripping and falling into the living room, but when you look you realize that Russell isn't on the couch. The pillow and brightly colored quilted blanket he used are neatly folded on one of the plush cushions, but he's nowhere to be found.

I guess Colter came to get him.

You weren't expecting the wave of disappointment that comes with that realization, but as you turn to go back up the stairs to ready yourself for the day, you hear your daughter’s voice.

"Mommy!" She says. "Look! Rus is making pancakes."

What?

You turn to investigate your spacious kitchen. It was still covered in an alarming amount of cupcakes, but that’s not what’s surprising, what’s surprising is Russell, standing at your crowded stove with a spatula in his hand, sliding a perfectly golden brown pancake around in the bottom of a pan.

You blink your eyes to make sure that you’re not imagining it and make sure that you’re not asleep.

"Hey gorgeous." Russell flashes a wide grin. "How'd you sleep?"

"Um-" You glance at where your daughter is sitting with your son, both eating stacks of pancakes at your kitchen table, the same kitchen table that you were fantasizing about Russell and you-

Nope. Not going there.

Honestly, any fantasy you had about him was blown away by the sight of him standing in your kitchen making pancakes for your children. Something so domestically wonderful that turned you on even more than the image of him shirtless sitting on your kitchen table.

This was something even your husband refused to do, cook. Any day that you tried to get him to, he'd said that it was your "job." And here Russell was standing in your kitchen looking even more effortlessly gorgeous cooking for your family without being asked.

"I sleep good. How did you sleep?" You ask taking a hesitant step towards him.

"Good. Better than I have in a bit actually." He turns back to the pan and flicks his wrist, flipping the pancake inside.

Emma claps happily and Luke watches Russell with a look of absolute awe on his face, while you try not to have impure thoughts about Russell in front of your children.

"You didn't have to make breakfast-"

"I did." He plates the pancake and holds it out to you. "I wanted to thank you for patching me up."

"It wasn't a big deal." You shrug, but take the pancake from the plate, rolling it up like a taco before you take a bite.

Russell cocks his head to the side studying you for a moment. "It was to me." His green eyes are just as hypnotic today as they were last night, tracing over your body in a way that makes pins and needles tickle over your skin. "Plus, wanted to make the kids something that wasn't gluten free, nut free, and sugar free. Emma sure can put away some pancakes."

It was odd to see someone so eager to make himself comfortable in your house, especially a man you barely knew and who you owed absolutely nothing to. Not to mention that Russell genuinely seemed happy to be making breakfast for your children as if he belonged there.

It was so different from every other man that you'd ever met, and you wanted to get used to it. You wanted to get used to having a man around again, to having Russell in your home and in your life. You'd never been spontaneous or wanted to jump headfirst without looking at the pros and cons, but watching Russell standing at your stove, with the sunlight coming through the windows behind him and illuminating his broad shoulders and sifting through his dark hair, you saw absolutely no downside.

"Yeah she's always had a good appetite."

"Hope she doesn't lose that. I hate it when women don't eat." Russell shrugs his shoulders and goes back to make a pancake for himself. "Plus Luke needs to bulk up. He said his dad is going to sign him up for baseball."

You stiffen at the mention of your ex, not sure if you should supply the information, or if you should let it slide. Russell's eyes flick down at your left hand for a half-second, so quickly you could have missed it, but you understood what he was doing.

"He's my ex-husband." You murmur low enough so only Russell could hear.

"Good." Russell replies with a knowing smirk. "Means that I don’t have any competition."

You roll your eyes at his reaction and walk over to where your children are eating. Luke is covered in maple syrup as per usual. He had always been a messy eater, but because he insisted on having his hair cropped short, it never seemed to be too much of a problem.

Just as Emma looks like your ex-husband, Lance, Luke looks like you. He has the same eyes and same colored hair, but he'd always been a little short for his age. Lance usually picked at him for that, but you didn't know what Lance was expecting, Luke was six years old, he'd grow!

"Good pancakes?" You ask, trying to wipe at his face with a napkin but he pulls away with an exclaimed "Mom!"

"What? You're covered in syrup." You laugh, raising the napkin again, but Luke dodges your hand.

"Mom!" Luke says again.

"Alright, fine. But go get dressed, your dad will be here to pick you up any minute." You say, urging him with a hand against his shoulder.

Today Lance was taking Luke to school and picking him up after for a baseball game, before staying with him at his apartment. You’d told your Aunt Teddi and your Aunt Velma that you'd help them plant a garden today, and Emma had been looking forward to it as much as you had.

Velma had been talking about it all through last week, and you’d gotten the day off specifically off for it. Emma was also excited about it because Teddi had bought flowers specifically for butterflies and your daughter loved them more than life itself.

You were looking forward to working out in the sun, feeling the healing rays against your skin, listening to the sounds of the world outside your aunts familiar home soothe you, play with the dogs for a little bit, and finally go inside for a few glasses of wine while Velma, Teddi, and you talked about the book of the month. Book club nights were especially special for Emma as well. Velma always poured Emma's apple juice into a plastic pink wine glass that she'd bought for Emma so she could feel included.

This book had been really good and you couldn't wait to share what you'd thought while eating expensive cheese and cupcakes and while the dogs circled below like raptors.

You loved being at their home. It was always such a comfort to be somewhere where you felt that you could be yourself especially after Lance left you. Your mother had died when you were a kid and your dad had never been equipped to handle things like that so your Aunt Teddi had picked up the slack in your early years and now after she'd married Velma, you had another person in your life who supported you and made you feel like you could be yourself. Both of them had been furious when they learned about what Lance had done and sat with you while you cried into a box of tissues.

It had been difficult to talk them both out of killing Lance. Surprising since your Aunt Teddi was usually the voice of reason.

Luke sighs, but listens to you, getting up from the table to make his way upstairs. You can hear his footsteps as he walks down the hallway above and into his room.

Despite his reluctance, he was looking forward to today as well. Sometimes you thought that he felt left out when you all went over to your aunts house. You knew that Luke longed for the attention of his father, and something broke inside of you each time your ex-husband made him feel forgotten.

You turn to look at your daughter. "Good pancakes?"

"Yes!"

"Did you tell Russell thank you?"

"Thank you Rus!" She sing-songs with a wide smile, before moving her plastic fork back into the pile enthusiastically.

"You're welcome sweetheart." Russell says from the stove, picking up the pancake in the skillet bare handed before he puts a generous stripe of maple syrup along the inside and rolls it up just like you did. "Do you want another one?" His gaze turns to you, warm and open.

Fuck, why is he so damn attractive?

"No I'm-"

The knock on the front door interupts your answer signifying the arrival of Lance. When he'd moved out of the house you'd changed all the locks and then refused to give him a key. Something that he'd pouted and stomped about worse than your toddler, but you'd held firm. You didn't want him in your house and you definitely didn't want her in your house either.

"Daddy!" Emma squeals and before you can stop her, she leaps from her chair like she'd been shot from a cannon and runs down the front hallway to open the door for your ex.

You sigh out a breath to prepare yourself for what comes next. Talking to Lance was always tense and as much as you tried to be civil, Lance didn't. He didn't pull punches, and often lacked the common decency that everyone else had.

Russell's studying you again, his easy smile slipping into a frown when he notes the change in your attitude.

"Stay here. This shouldn't take long." You force a smile, but it lacks the enthusiasm you’d had whenever you talked to Russell before.

Sometimes just the thought of your ex took the energy out of you, as if you were on a space ship and all the air got sucked out into the cold silent vacuum.

Lance is standing on the front step hugging your daughter with one hand while the other holds his phone behind her head, his gaze intently on the screen while Emma chatters in his ear. He's not paying attention though. He never was and never did.

His black hair is slicked back over his head and cropped shorter than the last time you saw him. Now it barely touches his collar but hangs long over the top of his head. His brown eyes glint an amber in the light of the sun, and he’s wearing a tailored blue suit with a dark patterned tie.

“Hey.” Lance clips to you as he stands, releasing Emma who is still trying to talk to him, but he ignores her.

You grind your teeth together. “Hi.”

He sighs audibly sensing the tension, as if it’s you that’s done something wrong.

“Emma, why don’t you go finish your pancakes?” You smile down at your daughter and pat her on the head. “We’ve got to go soon.”

“Okay! Bye daddy!”

“That’s nice honey.” He says absentmindedly, still typing furiously on his phone, while Emma rushes back down the hallway and into the kitchen, that is hidden from view of the front door.

“You know you could put the phone down for once. The world won’t implode if you wait a few seconds to answer a text.” You say.

“Don’t start.” Lance rolls his eyes.

The BMW idling at the curb catches in the early morning sunlight and you see a flash of red-hair. Crystal is in the passenger seat, her auburn hair piled on top of her head effortlessly, her lips painted a dark colored red, there’s a pair of heart shaped sunglasses over her eyes, and she’s wearing black dress low cut enough that her ample breasts spill out through the wide V.

She peers at you from where she sits in the car, her phone perched in her lap, and you watch her dark colored lips twitch into a knowing smirk when she catches you looking at her.

Each time you saw her was like taking a punch to the gut. It made you pull your oversized sweater a little tighter over your chest self-consciously.

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying that you should pay more attention to-“ You begin, but Lance interrupts.

“I don’t want to do this with you. I have a deposition due today and I have to finish sending this email.” He snaps.

“Fine.” You sigh, trying to remain calm. You hated when he did this, when he made it seem like no one and nothing else was important except his job. “Luke is getting ready. I have to box up these cupcakes for a bake sale at the school. All you have to do is drop them off and tell-“

“Oh sorry babe. Can’t do the thing today.”

You bristled when he called you babe. You weren't his, not after everything the two of you had been through.

“What do you mean you can’t do the ‘thing’ today?” You plant your hands on your hips trying to comprehend what he's saying.

“With the kid. Sorry. Crystal made plans for us at some fancy restaurant or whatever. Supposed to be the best in the city-“

“What?”

“I can’t take the kid today.” He repeats slowly, this time looking up, but he doesn’t bother to apologize, and his gaze barely meets yours before he drops his eyes back to the hand clutched in his perfectly manicured fingers.

“But you promised Luke that you were going to take him to a baseball game today after school. That he was going to get to spend the night with you and-“

“Sorry.” The apology isn’t sincere and you know it, despite Lance’s attempts to drop his smile into a sympathetic frown. It comes across as more condescending.

Crystal honks the horn of the car as if to tell Lance to hurry up, and it takes a very large amount of effort for you not to flip her the bird.

“No. Luke has been looking forward to this all week! Not to mention I had to ask off for today specifically-“

“And I’ll apologize to him too.” Lance goes back to typing something on his phone. “This dinner means a lot to Crystal-“

“I don’t give two shits what means a lot to that red-haired bimbo!” You snap, the rage and frustration building in your chest. “You made a promise to your son to take him to a baseball game and actually spend time with him and that’s exactly what you’re going to do!”

Lance looks up from his phone, his eyes narrowing. “You always fucking do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pick a fight.”

“I am not picking a fight Lance. All you’ve done since you’ve shown up here is ignore your daughter and tell me that you’re backing out of the one thing I’ve asked you to do in months!”

“I told you that I have a meeting and a deposition due today! Damn it, what do you want from me? To quit my big job that pays for this house?” He steps forward towering over you. Lance was taller than you, but he had always been lanky and thin, unable to gain too much weight or muscle at a time. “Why do you find the need to make me feel like my life isn’t important?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything about your life! I’m talking about our son’s life-“ You shout incredulous.

“This is exactly why I got out when I did. Because you always try to control every little thing. You’re so damn OCD that if I did one microscopic thing that wasn’t apart of your ‘special plans’ you’d spontaneously combust! You never just shut your big mouth and let me just fucking live my life! You never let me feel like a man! And Crystal understands-“

“Crystal can’t even understand that pickles were once cucumbers! I doubt she can understand whatever warped reality you’re living in Lance.” You spit. “But I’m sorry that me asking you to be a part of our children’s lives is too much for you. That it’s such a chore for you to make them happy.” The frustrated tears had begun to burn against your eyes.

You didn’t know why you expected anything different. Lance had been doing this since your son was born, putting his career above everything else, working late, schmoozing whoever he could, being so damn selfish that he was willing to throw everything the two of you built together for the woman sitting in the car on the curb watching the two of you go at it with a sick satisfaction.

“Don’t fucking do that!” Lance roars and this time he slams his hand against the door frame so roughly that the glass inside shakes and you flinch. “I don’t know why I even try to talk to you. So why don’t you get your big ass up those stairs and-“

“Is there a problem?” Russell’s voice interrupts whatever Lance was going to say, his body sliding into the space behind you so suddenly that you didn’t hear him walk up.

But it felt good for him to be there, to feel the warmth of his body through the air at your back.

He places his hand on the door to open it up a little wider and to seem a bit more intimidating. Russell is easily taller and broader than Lance.

Lance looks up at him confused, puffing out his chest to look more intimidating. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t use that kind of language around the kids-“ Russell says with a tight lipped smile.

“They’re my fucking kids. Don’t tell me how to talk.” Lance’s gaze flicks to you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“I’m Russell.” He replies before you can. “And if you know what’s good for you I’d take a few steps back from her.” Russell’s large hand gently presses against your waist, a comforting weight that you weren’t expecting, but welcome, nonetheless.

It made you feel a little bit bolder.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Lance snarls. “Is this your boyfriend? Really? You finally decided to go out with someone and that’s who you pick?”

“Look buddy, if you keep talking to her that way, we’re going to have a problem.” Russell sighs. “And I don’t want to get any blood on your fancy suit.”

“I’m not your buddy. And trust me she’s not worth the fight.” Lance sneers at you, giving you a once over that makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.

Russell’s jaw clenches tight and he takes a step forward, but you hold out your arm to stop him.

“He’s not my boyfriend and even if he was, it’s none of your business who I date!” You snap back.

Lance only shakes his head, ignoring what you’ve said. “I’m serious pal you don’t want to get involved with her. She’s fucking crazy, not to mention nothing special when it comes to se-“

The next words are lost in the sound of Russell’s fist landing against Lance’s face, the sharp crack followed by the inhuman scream of Crystal at the car. Lance stumbles back off the front step clutching a hand to his face while blood streams through his pinched fingers and over his chin.

“I warned you. Now if you keep talking, I'll make your eyes match.” Russell growls, flexing his hand.

I hope he didn’t rip his stitches.

“You son of a bitch.” Lance sputters, his hand still holding his broken nose. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”

“It’s worth it, if it shuts you up.” He replies unfazed.

Lance’s eyes narrow with hate as he looks at you one more time, before stumbling back to his car where Crystal has begun to wail over the amount of blood coming from his nose. The car squeals down the street and out of sight, leaving Russell and you standing on your front porch. Thankfully Emma was still in the kitchen eating her pancakes and Luke was upstairs, you didn't want either of them to see Russell punch their dad.

But that didn't mean that you wouldn't mind seeing it again.

You groaned when you thought about your son. You didn’t know how on earth you were going to explain to him why his dad wasn’t going to pick him up or take him to the game.

But at the same time there was a sickening amount of pleasure that bubbled beneath the surface at the thought of Russell breaking Lance’s nose.

“Are you okay?” Russell asks turning to look at you. There’s anger still simmering beneath the surface. You’d never seen him angry in all the time he’d stayed with you. All you’d seen was the funny, easy going, guy with the gorgeous smile, but to see him like this and especially to see him angry over what had just happened…

Just when I thought he couldn’t get any more attractive.

“Yeah. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize for that asshole. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” Russell hesitates. “Does he always talk to you like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn, should have knocked a few teeth out too. He’s got to learn how to speak to a lady, especially one as beautiful as you.”

You felt your cheeks flush. You couldn’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful and before you can stop yourself you say:

“I don’t think you’re too bad looking yourself.”

“Oh I know. You couldn’t keep your hands off me last night.” Russell’s grin makes you smile and roll your eyes at him.

Again you’re struck by how charming he is and how kind. He didn’t have to do any of the things he’d done today, but he did anyway. He didn’t have to make breakfast for your children, he didn’t have to step in when your ex-husband got mouthy, and he didn’t have to punch Lance in the face, but Russell had.

He'd done more for you in the past few hours than your husband had done in the six years you'd been married to him.

Behind where Russell's standing, Colter’s truck pulls up to idle on the curb in the same place that the BMW had been sitting moments ago, and you raise a hand in a half-wave to greet him. Colter shoots you a grin and waves back.

“Guess my ride’s here.” Russell says glancing back at his brother over his shoulder before he looks back at you.

“Seems so.” You nod. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check your stitches for you one more time before you go? I mean you probably ripped them when you punched Lance."

“Sounds like you just want to catch another peak of me without my shirt on.” Russell laughs, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and hit him on the arm.

“Ow.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Maybe.” He’s studying you again, the sunlight turning his hair a honeyed brown and his eyes into a sharp jade. The light catches his broad shoulders and traces along his strong jaw that is covered in a healthy amount of stubble that makes him look rugged and more handsome than any man you’d ever met.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “It was nice to meet you Russell. And again, I'm sorry that you got shot."

Russell shrugs. “It was worth it. I got to meet you and I got to punch that asshole in the face so win-win.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“Yes, I did.” Russell’s jaw tightens. “You didn’t deserve any of the things he was saying about you or about the kids.”

“True.” You hesitate.

Should I ask him for his number or is that too forward?

“I’ll see you around.” Russell smiles at you one more time before making his way to his brother’s car, just as Emma joins you on the front step.

“Did daddy leave?” She sounds sad.

“Yeah. He did.” You take her small hand in yours.

“But why does Russell have to go too?” She whines.

“Because he’s going home.”

You felt a twinge in your chest watching him get into the car, knowing that you probably would never see him ever again. It made you sad to know that. You'd been interested in him and you thought he was interested in you, but he hadn't asked for your number.

Maybe he's flirty and charming with everyone.

You hide the frown that comes with that thought. Emma waves goodbye with her freehand, and Russell smiles from the passenger seat, waving back at your daughter, before he raises his gaze to yours again and winks.

Or maybe not.

When you go back inside the house, Luke is still upstairs, and instead of going up to tell him about his father, you turn to go back into your kitchen to clean up. As you near the stove, you notice a bright green piece of paper under one of the magnets on your refrigerator, fluttering slightly in the air-conditioning.

You pull it down to look.

In case you want some more pancakes or if you bake any more of those life changing cupcakes. Give me a call. -Russell.

His phone number was written under his name, next to a smiley face that made you laugh aloud to yourself.

Sunday nights were the worst, but not this time.

A/N: Alright, I had so much fun with this one! I just had this urge to write Russell with a reader who had children and a trash man ex because why not? And I know I said it would be a one-shot… but my mind is already thinking of all the possibilities lol. Mostly because we all know I can’t really write just a one-shot 😅😂

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y’all think!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester

#jensen ackles #russell shaw #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw x you #russell shaw x reader #tracker cbs #tracker #tracker fanfiction #colter shaw #justin hartley #jackles #jensen fucking ackles

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pamwritessometimes · 4 months ago

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Tuesday’s Gone Masterlist

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.

Tuesday’s Gone series

🤍 Chapter 1

🤍 Chapter 2

🤍 Chapter 3

🤍 Chapter 4

🤍 Chapter 5

🤍 Chapter 6

🤍 Chapter 7

🤍 Chapter 8

🤍 Chapter 9

🤍 Chapter 10

Drabbles

🤍 Dig That Crazy Santa Claus (Christmas edition)

Summary: Your daughter may have uncovered her dad's greatest secret ever.

🤍 Friday I’m In Love

Summary: Russell wants to have a serious conversation with you.

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw x you #russell shaw #russell shaw x reader #colter shaw #tracker #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #jensen x reader #jensen fucking ackles #masterlist #Tuesday’s Gone #Tuesday’s Gone masterlist

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waynes-multiverse · 24 days ago

Text

The Exit Strategy – Part 5

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

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

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

Word Count: 7.5k

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

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

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 5: This Is a Start

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

If your enemies were careful, so were you.

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

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

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

You squealed and laughed as he disappeared underneath the covers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You really should stop judging Shaws by their pretty covers…

“Yes.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Little nervous,” you added playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Reclusive?” Colter offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For now,” you said, smiling mischievously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Duty, honor, and country.

But did you really ever make a difference?

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

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

When did you become part of the problem?

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

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

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

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

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

And then, just like now, carrot.

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

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

Wherever you lead, I’ll follow…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No wonder the guy had a heart problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled inwardly. “Yeah, me neither…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They don’t even know about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

Colter gave a satisfied nod. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A new adventure. A fresh start.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Russell was finally back where he belonged.

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

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

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

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

“Once a month.”

“Well, uh–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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cheynovak · 8 months ago

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The plan

Russell Shaw x F/Reader Y/N

Warnings: Age difference not too explicit.

Words: 1650

*Does not follow Tracker’s storyline *

I finally started writing about Russell, it took me a while, but I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

-- --

Russell is ready to start his ‘retirement plan’ like he used to call it. He saw an old brewery on one of his jobs and went back to speak to the owner, an old man named Frank.

Frank also owns a bar close to the brewery, his granddaughter Y/N works there as a bartender. Russell liked her immediately, realising he had to overcome two impossible tasks. One, to try and win Frank over to buy the brewery, two win Y/N over to go on a date with him.

Russell had seen it all. His years working as a mercenary for the Horizon Group had taken him to every corner of the globe, exposing him to the darkest sides of humanity. Now he was ready to leave that life behind and find some semblance of peace.

His plan was simple: buy an old brewery on the outskirts of town and live out his days crafting beer, a craft he had fallen in love with during his travels in Belgium. The brewery he had his mind set on, an aged brick building with ivy creeping up its walls, had been owned and operated by Frank Miller for the past forty years.

Frank was well-known in the community for his craftsmanship and the warmth of his pub, which had become a beloved local spot for ex marines. However, convincing Frank to sell was proving to be more challenging than Russell had anticipated.

It was late afternoon when Russell stepped into the pub, the scent of malt and hops mingling with the aged wood of the bar. The place was cozy, filled with the hum of low conversations and the clinking of glasses.

As he approached the bar, he caught sight of a younger woman, her eyes sparkling with life, her movements graceful and assured as she served a group of regulars. She could easily be 10 to 15 years younger than him, a striking contrast to the pub's worn-in charm.

"Can I get you something?" she asked, her voice cutting through his thoughts. Her nametag read Y/N. "Uh, yeah, just a pint of whatever's on tap," Russell replied, trying not to stare. She had a disarming smile, one that made the lines of his past seem a little less heavy.

As she poured his drink, he couldn't help but notice the ease with which she moved, the way she seemed to know exactly how to engage each customer. When she handed him the pint, their fingers brushed slightly, sending a surprising jolt through him. "First time here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she wiped the bar down.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I'm actually looking to buy the place." She laughed, a light sound that made him smile. "Good luck with that. My grandfather's pretty attached to this old place." "Your grandfather?" Russell echoed, a sinking feeling in his chest. "Yep. Frank Miller," she confirmed. "I'm Y/N." Russell took a long sip of his beer, trying to gather his thoughts. "So, you work here often?"

"Pretty much every day. I've been helping out since I was a kid," she said, leaning on the bar. "So, why does a guy like you want to buy an old brewery?" He glanced around the pub, then back at her. "I've spent my life in a pretty rough business. This place... it feels like the kind of peace I've been searching for."

Y/N studied him for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. "Well, you're going to have a hard time convincing my grandpa. He loves this place more than anything." Russell nodded, appreciating her honesty. "I'll keep that in mind."

Days turned into weeks, and Russell found himself visiting the pub more frequently, ostensibly to discuss the sale with Frank, but in truth, he was drawn to Y/N. They began to talk more, sharing stories over the bar, finding common ground in unexpected places.

Despite their age difference, there was an undeniable connection between them. One evening, after closing time, Y/N found Russell sitting at the bar, nursing his usual pint. "You really don't give up, do you?" she teased, sliding into the stool next to him. He chuckled. "It's not just about the brewery anymore."

She tilted her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said quietly, meeting her gaze with a flirty look. Her smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a look of surprise and then something else, something deeper. "Russell, I..."

Before she could finish, the door creaked open, and Frank walked through, his presence instantly commanding the room. His eyes, sharp despite his age, zeroed in on Russell. "Look, buddy, I don't know how many times I need to let you down, but I'm not selling." Russell raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm just here for a beer, Frank."

Frank's gaze softened slightly but didn't lose its edge. "Y/N, you need to look out for this man. He's ex-army. You never know what kind of trouble that can bring." Y/N laughed, a sound that lightened the tension. "So are you, Grandpa."

He grumbled something under his breath, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He turned back to Russell, his eyes assessing. "So, you're here for the beer, huh?" Russell nodded. "And the company."

Frank looked between Russell and Y/N, and Russell could see the wheels turning in the old man's head. Finally, Frank sighed. "Alright, just keep away from my granddaughter." Y/N grinned, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she refilled Russell's pint. "You heard the man." She winked at Russell.

As the evening wore on, the pub emptied until it was just the three of them. Russell found himself opening up in a way he hadn't expected, sharing stories Frank, in turn, told tales of his own army days, and Y/N listened with rapt attention, occasionally interjecting with her own memories of growing up around the brewery.

It was late when Frank finally stood up, stretching his back. "Alright, time for this old man to hit the sack. Y/N, lock up when you're done." Y/N nodded, watching her grandfather leave before turning back to Russell. "He's a tough nut to crack, but he likes you."

Russell raised an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me." She laughed softly. "He sees a bit of himself in you, I think." Russell looked down at his drink, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Y/N, about what I said earlier..."

Y/N interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. "Listen, Russell, you're a nice guy, and I get it. I'm a younger woman who's been friendly and serving you with a smile, but that doesn't mean there's anything going on here, okay?"

Russell laughed, the sound echoing softly in the nearly empty pub. "That's one way to break a man's heart." Y/N knew he was joking, but she couldn't help but smile. "I know a lot of men, and one thing I can tell you, you don't strike me as the kind of guy who gets his heart broken by a woman."

He chuckled, appreciating her candour. "You might be right about that, or maybe I haven’t found the right one yet." He leaned in closer.

She tapped his hand on the bar, signalling the end of their conversation. "Now, pay up so I can close up." Russell reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash, placing it on the bar. "Keep the change." Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Big spender tonight."

"Just trying to stay in your good graces, might need it to win Frank over." he said with a grin. She shook her head, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "Good night, Russell."

"Good night, Y/N," he replied, standing up and giving her one last look before heading for the door.

The next day, he found himself back at the brewery, ready to face whatever came next with a renewed determination. Whether it was winning over Frank or getting to know Y/N better, he felt ready. But when he arrived, something was off. The brewery was closed, and a couple of police cars were parked out front.

Russell’s heart sank as he spotted Frank talking to the police. He quickened his pace and approached the small group. “Frank, what’s going on?” he asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. Frank turned to him, his face lined with worry and suspicion.

“There was a robbery last night,” he said, his voice gruff. “And Y/N’s been missing ever since.” Russell felt a cold wave of fear wash over him. “Missing? What do you mean, missing?” Frank’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to Russell.

“She closed up last night, didn’t she? You were the last one here. Now she’s gone, and you show up again this morning?” Russell raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Frank, I swear, I left shortly after you. I haven’t seen her. You have to believe me.”

One of the officers stepped forward. “Mr. Shaw, is it? We’ll need to ask you a few questions. “When was the last time you saw Ms. Y/L/N?” Russell recounted the previous evening, explaining how he’d paid his tab and left shortly after Frank had gone to bed. “I went straight back to the motel and didn’t see or hear anything after that.”

The officer nodded, taking notes. “We’ll need to verify your alibi. In the meantime, if you think of anything, please let us know.” Russell nodded, feeling a mix of helplessness and frustration.

As the police continued their investigation, he turned back to Frank. “I want to help find her.” Frank’s gaze softened slightly, but the suspicion lingered. Russell pulled out his phone. "I might know a guy who can help us." He said with his phone to his ear. He turned away from Frank.

"Colter?... I need your help."

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

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#jensen ackles #fanfic #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw #tracker #tracker 1x12 #colter shaw #off the books #light angst #jensenedit

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month ago

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What I've Been Working On This Week:

Three Months - Kayce realises how badly he's fucked up.

Bore Da Gold - Rupert Campbell-Black - Rupert discovers you have a secret.

Lord Ashbury - Rupert Campbell-Black - Rupert learns the truth about you and Lord Ashbury

The Siren's Call - Rupert Campbell-Black - Rupert realises the depth of his feelings when the two of you spend the night together. (NSFW)

Happy Ending - Mike Mc - You discover you're not the only one that's struggling to cope.

In Love With A Psycho - Robert Sawyer - Robert goes to great lengths to find the identity of the man who pulled the trigger.

Fire - Endeavour Morse - Morse is forced to face the consquences of his investigation after the fallout from Ronnie Box.

All Work, No Play - Owen Strand - Owen knows when he's being blown off.

Home - Eddie Diaz - Eddie sees you for the first time since Texas.

Mother Nature - You take some time to breathe before your inevitable return to California.

Eurydice - Gibbs - Things come to a head between you and Gibbs when you finally confess your feelings.

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shyday-ao3 · 26 days ago

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just finished Tracker and am saddened by the lack of fic. the man got shot with an arrow for chrissake. where's my post ep for 2.05?

#tracker #tracker cbs #colter shaw #fanfiction

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winchesterdreamgirl88 · 1 year ago

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Masterlist

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Done

NFSW Alphabet

The Other Brother

All That Matters

Birthday Confessions

I must Confess

Sam Winchester

NFSW Alphabet

The Other Brother

Jensen Ackles

A Game of Consequences

Famous in love

Coming home

Under the Spotlight

Love in the Limelight

Pt 1

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

It's the Least I Could Do After Saving Your Life

The Boys

Soldier Boy

First Impressions

Tracker

Colter Shaw

Russell Shaw

Marvel Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D

Grant Ward

A Future Without Betrayal

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justourimaginations · 3 months ago

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Jealous (Colter Shaw x Fe!Reader)

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

Trigger Warnings: pretty sure there are non

1.4k words

----------------------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He's not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah" Colter sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

“I was confused after our dinner.”

“Confused?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 6 months ago

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Imagine...Running Into Colter On A Job

Pairing: Colter Shaw x reader

A/N: I've been re-watching Tracker before Season 2 starts and I'm dipping my toe in the Colter fanfic world finally! Just a little something short, sweet and sassy to start with!

________

Your heart skipped a beat as you rounded the corner and spotted a man, his expression turning confused. “Colter Shaw?”

“Y/N?” You cleared the room before going to where he was handcuffed to a pipe. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you apparently.” You pulled your lock pick from the back of your jeans, jamming it in the key hole. “How’d this happen?”

“What are you doing here?” He repeated, an edge of agitation in his voice this time. You snapped the cuff open, frowning at him as he popped to his feet.

“Working the same job as you.” You got up, his hand on your arm pulling you up but you quickly shrugged him off.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, grabbing your bicep again, keeping you behind him. You punched him in the arm, Colter dropping you, rubbing his shoulder. “What the hell-”

“Do not treat me like a damsel, Shaw. I saved your ass, remember?” You brushed on ahead of him, taking your small handgun from the waistband of your jeans. He wanted to retort but you shushed him, Colter scowling but staying behind you.

You cleared the building quickly, only slightly surprised when you found the teenager you were looking for sat uncomfortably on a chair while an older man watched TV in the corner. Colter tapped your shoulder, pointing at the kid. You rolled your eyes but went along with it. If he wanted to get in a wrestling match with the big guy, he could go for it.

Two minutes later Colter was sat on the man’s back, securing him with the zip tie you tossed over from your jacket pocket.

“Hey, Henry,” you said, the kid looking relieved. “Your step dad do anything to you?”

“No. I just want to go home.” You helped him to his feet, giving Colter a nod.

“Then let’s get you home, buddy.”

“Shaw,” you grit out in the parking lot of the police station a few hours later. Colter glanced up from his phone before shoving it in his pocket. “What the hell was that back there?”

“Nice to see you too,” he chuckled. “What are you doing-”

“Are you allergic to answering a question?” you prodded, crossing his arms. His eyebrows shot up, a stupid smile on his face. “I asked you first.”

“Wow. You are not the timid accountant you once were.” You scoffed.

“First off, you met me when I’d been kidnapped. I was having a rough day. Is that why you were so pushy back at the farm?”

He sighed, looking over your head. “Listen, I don’t know what you were capable of. I didn’t need another kidnapping victim on my hands.”

You smiled, stepping in closer, his adam’s apple bobbing. “The balls on you to say that to the person that, oh, literally helped you escape? Hm?”

He frowned, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are,” you said, walking past him for your truck.

“Wait!” he said, jogging to your side. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Does this answer it?” you said, pulling out an envelope full of reward money. Colter looked dumbfounded and you found the expression sort of adorable on his handsome face. “Sorry, seeing as how I found their son, the parents felt I deserved the reward.”

“You track rewards? You?” You patted his cheek, shaking your head.

“It’s a good thing you’re so handsome,” you teased, turning your back to him with a whistle. “Better luck next time, Shaw!”

“But…you’re an accountant!” he called after you.

“Former accountant,” you said, spinning around, walking backwards with a grin. “Turns out I make way more money doing this. A little weapons training here, a little martial arts there and a pushup bra go a long fucking way, Colter.”

“The fuck…” he trailed off as you winked at him. “Y/N!”

“Catch you on the next one, Colter!”

___________

#colter shaw x reader #colter shaw #tracker #tracker fanfiction #colter shaw fanfiction #colter shaw fanfic #colter x reader #colter shaw x female!reader #colter x female!reader #tracker fanfic #colter shaw imagine #justin hartley

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sgtbradfords · 3 days ago

Text

a happy little mistake

There's a steady drizzle falling into the dead of night as Colter Shaw traverses his way back into the woods towards where he'd parked his Airstream. It had been a long day - a long week, actually - but the couple that was once missing was now back home, and the reward for their return had been safely deposited into his checking account.

Colter wants nothing more than to take a hot shower, render aid to the gash on his leg, and climb into bed. But all of his wants go flying out the window when his home on wheels comes into view.

The camper was considerably brighter than the way he'd left it that morning. Which is odd because Colter knows for a fact that the only light he had pressed on before leaving, was the one over the sink.

It was an observation that could only mean one thing. Someone was inside his home.

Immediately, Colter finds himself on edge. He turns off the idling engine, knowing that whoever was inside had already been alerted to his arrival, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to get one step ahead. His pulse increases with every beat of his heart as he opens his glove box, reaching for the gun that had been safely tucked away. Racking the slide with familiar ease, Colter double-checks that there's a bullet sitting in the chamber before allowing for the slide to move back into place.

There were only half a dozen people who knew the location of his spare key, and only a few of those select people were ever welcomed.

Read the rest on AO3!

#colter shaw #reenie greene #colter x reenie #tracker #tracker fanfic #tracker fanfiction #fanfic #tracker cbs

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zepskies · 9 months ago

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Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

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

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

Word Count: 5.7K

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

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

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

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

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

“About two grand,” he admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth fell open incredulously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“After?” he prompted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

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

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

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

“What do you think?” you asked.

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

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

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

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

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile.

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

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

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

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

You gave a weak smile.

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

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

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

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

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

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

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

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

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

“Come on,” you said.

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

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

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

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

And he was true to his word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

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

And he slapped you right on the ass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm okay," you tried.

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

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

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

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

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

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

But his hands were gentle for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

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

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

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

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

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

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

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

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

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

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

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

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

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charlie still wasn’t home.

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

And it worried you even more.

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

— C.

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

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

Next Time:

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

“You should call the police,” she advised.

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

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

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

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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