#look if we get even ONE second of shaw

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

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

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

Word Count: 5.7K

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

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

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

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

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

“About two grand,” he admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth fell open incredulously.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“After?” he prompted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

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

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

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

“What do you think?” you asked.

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

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

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

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

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile. 

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

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

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

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

You gave a weak smile.

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

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

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

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

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

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

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

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

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

“Come on,” you said.

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

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

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

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

And he was true to his word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

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

And he slapped you right on the ass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm okay," you tried.

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

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

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

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

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

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

But his hands were gentle for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

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

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

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

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

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

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

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

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

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

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

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

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

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charlie still wasn’t home.

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

And it worried you even more.

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

— C.

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

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

Next Time:

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

“You should call the police,” she advised.

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

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

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

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[pamwritessometimes]

Tuesday’s Gone — Chapter 1

Russell Shaw x reader

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

Warnings: missing child trope

A/N: Hello, beautiful people! I know most of you are waiting for another part of my Soldier Boy SMAU, but truth to be told, I have NO idea how to continue that story yet. I’m still waiting for the fanfic muse to kiss my face and tell me what to do. In the meantime, please, enjoy this little something that will end up being a mini series.

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

Tuesday’s Gone masterlist

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You didn't know how to breathe. It felt just like if your lungs were under a press, making it more and more impossible to get oxygen minute by minute. Never in your thirtysomething of years ever thought you’d have to experience one of the greatest tragedies of life; your daughter, your whole world, just disappeared.

The detective in front of you was muttering some words your brain couldn't really register until now.

“Miss Y/L/N, you hear me?” he asked with a hint of concern. “I need you to tell me how you found out your daughter’s missing. Any detail could be crucial.”

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You stood outside the police station, staring blankly at the pale glow of the streetlights. Inside, the officers had told you  to "stay patient", to wait for updates. They’re doing everything they can, they said.

But it wasn’t enough.

Emma was only four, too young to be out of sight for this long.

She had disappeared right from your front yard, where you had only left her alone for a few moments to grab your phone. It had been late afternoon, and the neighborhood was quiet. No strange cars. No unusual noises. 

When you came back outside (just mere seconds later) Emma was gone. 

The police had checked the neighbors’ cameras, combed through the nearby area, and interviewed everyone around. But there were no leads. No ransom demands. No nothing. They were starting to treat it like a case that could stretch on for weeks or months.

But you couldn’t wait that long.

It was already taking too much time, and your mind went to places it never ever should have. Is she still okay? Is she scared?— What a stupid question, of course, she’s scared. Up until now, her world was simple; just her mother and her. 

“Miss Y/L/N” a quiet voice came from behind your shoulder. You turned and see a policeman–Lt. Candero, according to his nametag. “I know I’m speaking against ourselves, but you have to understand. We have regulations to follow. Our hands are tied. But–” he started reaching for his back pocket “I might have someone to help you” he said and handed you a card. A name and a phone number.

Colter Shaw.

“He isn’t tied down like us. His methods may be a bit… unorthodox, but he helped to find my wife’s brother a few years back when our station couldn’t. He might be able to help you.” he said quietly, then looked around to see if nobody saw this exchange. 

You understood. Recommending a–what was this man again? A tracker? Recommending a tracker, it was probably against everything his profession stood for. You quickly looked down at the card and then back up to say your thank you, but he was already gone.

Colter Shaw. At first, the name didn’t strike you as unusual. Colter Shaw. Shaw. You hadn’t thought about this name for a while. Could this be a coincidence?  

Anyway, it wasn't the time to contemplate. You needed to find Emma.

And right now, this Colter Shaw was your best chance.

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The night had settled in by the time he arrived. You watched from the window as he pulled up quietly in front of your house. You opened the door before he could even knock. 

"Miss Y/L/N?”

"Y/N” you corrected. “Thank you for coming" you said, stepping aside to let him in.

Colter gave a small nod as he entered, his eyes quickly glancing through the living room, taking in the space as though every detail might offer a clue. 

"Tell me again" he said as he sat down on the couch. It was clear he was drawing out details the police may have missed. "Everything you remember from the moment she disappeared."

You sat down on the couch next to him, clasping your hands together in an attempt to keep them from shaking. "It was late afternoon. Emma was playing with her dolls on the porch while I ran inside for just a minute to grab my phone. When I came back out, she was gone. I called for her, searched the yard, but she wasn’t there. The gate was closed. She couldn’t have left on her own." Your voice cracked as you remembered back at the ominous moment. "I searched the whole neighborhood. Cried and screamed even. No one saw her."

Colter listened intently, not interrupting you. There was something in his eyes that made you feel as if he wasn’t just absorbing the details, but he was already a few steps ahead. He was thinking of possibilities you or the police couldn’t see yet.

"There was no one around?" he asked.

You shook your head. "No strangers, no cars I didn’t recognize."

Colter nodded, as though that detail confirmed something in his mind. "This wasn’t random" he finally said. "Whoever took her had been watching. They knew your routine, her routine."

Your heart skipped a beat. Why would anyone stalk you? Or worse, why would anyone stalk Emma?  "But why? Why would anyone—"

"People take children for a lot of reasons" Colter interrupted with a careful tone. "But this feels targeted. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. And that means they’ll make mistakes. I’ll find them."

You nodded feeling a flicker of hope at his confident words. "What– what do we do now?"

"We start with the yard" Colter said, standing up. "I need to retrace what happened. Look for signs the police might’ve missed. After that, I’ll want to speak to the neighbors, anyone in the area who might’ve seen something they didn’t realize was important."

You stood, watching as he moved toward the front door. Your mind was racing. How could this be targeted? Who would target you? And why? You were no one special–a single mother living with her four-year-old in the suburbs of Idaho Falls. Had no enemies–except for the occasional work rivalries between you and some of your colleagues (you had a very specific person in mind, named Kiara), but other than that, your life was plain and simple.

"You really think this wasn’t random?" you asked Colter, following him outside.

He paused by the door, glancing back at you. "I’ve seen this before. This kind of precision. Someone planned this, and that means there’s a reason. We just have to find out what it is."

As you stepped outside, you couldn’t shake the creeping fear that this was bigger than you had imagined. It felt deliberate, like someone had been watching, waiting for the right moment. But why Emma? What did they want?

Colter crouched near the edge of the yard, running his fingers along the ground. You stood nearby, watching as he scanned the area. The yard looked so ordinary, so unchanged. But to Colter, it seemed to hold details you hadn’t noticed, things the police had overlooked.

"So she played here, right?” he asked and then you nodded. “Footprints here" he muttered, pointing to a small section of dirt near the gate. "Different size from the ones around it. Someone stood here recently."

"The police didn’t mention any footprints."

"They wouldn’t" Colter said, standing up. "They’re looking for obvious signs, not subtle ones."

As he moved toward the gate, you felt a heavy weight pressing down on your shoulders. You couldn’t breathe, again. Whoever had taken Emma had planned this. They had been watching her, your daughter, knowing exactly when to strike. But who? And why? 

You kept repeating these two questions.

As if reading your thoughts, Colter turned to you. "This isn’t over, Y/N. Whoever did this left a trail. I just have to find them."

You nodded, but deep down, something still gnawed at you. Your guts were telling you that there was more to this.

And for the first time, you wondered if your daughter had been taken not because of who she was, but because of something—or someone—she didn’t know.

“Tell me about her father” Colter said, still scanning the area.

You froze for a moment. You had expected him to ask about Emma’s father. But not yet, at least. You stared at him, trying to figure out how much to say. How much did he know? Or was he just following a hunch?

"Sometimes, the past has a way of catching up to people, even when they’ve left it behind" he added.

"He left" you said. "Before I even knew I was pregnant. I haven’t heard from him since."

It wasn’t a complete lie. Russell had been gone for years, disappearing from your life before you even knew you were pregnant.

Well, maybe he didn’t disappear, maybe you pushed him away. But you had your reasons… reasons you weren’t ready to share with Colter.

He was never part of Emma’s life, never even knew she existed. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that Colter might be right. Maybe this was connected to Russell.

Colter’s expression didn’t change at your revelations, but you could sense his mind was working, putting pieces together. He wasn’t asking for the emotional history; he was looking for facts, details that might explain why someone would take Emma.

"What was he like?" Colter asked, leaning forward slightly. "Did he have enemies? Anything that stands out in your memory?"

“He...” you started. “He never talked about his past. He was… secretive. Once I–” you took a deep breath, contemplating how much to share. “I realized he lied to me. About his job. And… and I told him to get out of my house, my life” you said. It was an insanely outlined version of your story, but you hoped it was enough.

"And…no contact since then?" Colter asked.

You shook your head. "Nothing. Not a single word.”

For a moment, you both fell silent. You could see Colter’s mind turning, sifting through the information, trying to make sense of it. Then, his voice broke the screaming silence.

"Y/N, I need you to think carefully. Is there any chance—any at all—that this could be connected to him?"

You felt a cold shiver run down your spine at the question. You had tried so hard to convince yourself that Russell was just a chapter in your past, that he had nothing to do with the life you had built with Emma. But now, with your daughter missing, the nagging doubt inside you was just impossible to ignore.

"I don’t know" you admitted finally.

Once again, you couldn’t help but think of the name that had been haunting you since this shitstorm began. Shaw. Colter’s last name was the same as Russell’s, and though you hadn’t asked, the possibility plagued your mind. Could Colter be connected to Russell? Could he know more about your past than he was letting on?

You didn’t dare ask. Not yet. Not until you had more answers. But the question stayed in the back of your mind.

And now, the only person who could help you find Emma might be the one with answers you were afraid to uncover.

After taking a deep breath, you said. “He was dealing with… some dangerous people.”

"Who?" Colter asked, his voice low but firm, pushing gently. "What kind of people?"

“It’s– uh, it was some organization, I think. I don't know what they do specifically…” you stammered. “Russell said it was Horizon or something.”

Colter's face tightened. Horizon? The Horizon Group? And Russell?

Something flashed in his eyes. Recognition, most likely. For a brief moment, his usually composed expression fell, and he looked away, as if piecing together a connection.

"Russell..." Colter said, his voice quieter now, almost as if testing the name. He took a step back, his mind clearly working through the sudden flood of new information. "What did you say his last name was?"

This was it. The moment you had been dreading, the one you had skirted around ever since you first heard his name. "Shaw" you said, barely above a whisper. "His last name was Shaw."

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Phew. We’re in for a ride.

As always, I appreciate any kind of feedback.🤍

xx Pam

Read Chapter 2 here

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (3/?)

Part summary: Leigh develops an unhealthy habit as she hits closer to rock bottom

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.370 | Warnings/Tags: Some hetero stuff | A/N: Things will pick up after this part. I think there's going to be a total of 6 parts, but let me confirm that in the next update :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Next

-

Leigh is ten minutes late. 

It makes sense. Her willingness to attend this meeting was surprising, because if you were in her shoes, you doubt you'd have agreed to it. Listening to the entire history of a relationship can be exhausting, and it's hard to imagine what it feels like to hear about one that arguably should never have existed.

But just as you're about to think she's bailed or intentionally left you hanging, you spot her sprinting toward the cafe from across the street. She's a mess—hair soaked and sticking everywhere, face bare, missing its usual touch of makeup. But even like this, Leigh doesn't look much different from her usual self. You can't help feeling a bit envious of that.

She rushes into the cafe, attracting a few curious looks, but she barely registers them, her wide green eyes quickly finding you.

“Sorry I'm late,” she pants, struggling to catch her breath, “I got caught in the rain and then missed my bus.” The lie slips out effortlessly. True, it had rained, but the real reason was far more personal—something you didn't need to know.

You shrug off her apology with a smile, signaling the waiter for a menu for Leigh. “No worries, I'm just glad you made it,” you say.

Leigh gives you a quick once-over, then forces a smile and thanks you. Once her coffee order's in, she gets right down to it. “So, Matt,” she starts, her voice dropping to a whisper, “how did you two meet?”

You lean back, carefully thinking about what to say next. You didn't practice your answers ahead of time because you weren't planning to lie about anything. But you're wary of how you word things, not wanting to upset her. Being caught up with a married man is embarrassing enough as it is, and having to relay the details to his widowed wife only adds to it.

“Actually, our first meeting was totally by chance,” you say, bringing your steaming cup of tea to your lips. “I quite literally bumped into Matt one day. It was so brief, I barely gave it a second thought.”

You take a deep breath before continuing, “Then, about a week later, Matt showed up at my clinic with the same friend from before. It turned out, they were there for his friend's dog, who needed a check-up. Matt was just tagging along, helping out.”

Leigh’s face remains passive, making it hard to read. 

“The friend was the one who interacted with me the most that day. He even asked for my number, saying they were grateful for the help with the dog. I assumed he was interested,” you say, the memory coming back to you clearer now as you speak. “But, to my surprise, it was Matt who texted me later, not his friend.”

You barely manage to suppress the slight twitch of your lips, recalling how everything once seemed magical to you. Leigh on the other hand, takes a slow sip of her coffee, buying a moment to process.

“Who was that friend of Matt's? Do you remember his name?” she asks.

You pause, racking your brain for the detail, feeling its importance to Leigh. “Yeah, I think his name was Nick or something,” you say, scratching your head. Whether the name ‘Nick’ rings any bells for her or not, she doesn't let on. 

“Strange,” you mumble under your breath, but then shrug it off. “It doesn't really matter, he's not the one I—” You stop yourself just in time, realizing you're about to say something potentially hurtful about a situation that still feels raw, especially to Leigh.

Instead, you quickly pivot. “Anyway, that's how it all started. On the day of the dog’s follow-up, it was just Matt who came by. We struck up a friendship from there, and one thing led to another until he, uhm, asked me out for dinner.”

At this, you notice a subtle change in Leigh's demeanor. Her entire frame becomes more timid, the first real sign of emotion she's shown since this conversation began. 

You’re about to go on with your story when Leigh suddenly speaks up.

“So, you just said yes, even though he was your client? Don't veterinarians have professional boundaries?”

Ever since meeting Leigh, you've found it challenging to predict what might trigger her reactions—it's like navigating a minefield. Occasionally, you’d find yourself wondering what it would be like to know her without the complications currently defining your interactions. You think about the roles you both involuntarily play in each other's lives, roles neither of you auditioned for but somehow ended up performing.

You feel a lump form in your throat, and your gaze drops to your lap. “Well, he was persistent,” you say, feeling the need to defend your decision. Nevertheless, it sounds weak to your own ears. “But I made it clear nothing could happen until the dog's treatment was complete. And I insisted he'd have to find a different vet for any future appointments. It was... complicated.”

“I bet,” Leigh scoffs, crossing her arms. After a beat, she asks, almost too casually, “So, how quickly did you two... you know, have your first kiss?”

The question hangs awkwardly between you. You know you can’t answer it in any way you could avoid her judgment, so you just decide to spit it out. 

“First date.” Under Leigh’s scrutinizing gaze, it feels like admitting to a minor crime.

Leigh stares at you with unblinking eyes. “And how long after meeting him did this first date happen?”

You draw in a slow breath. “Three weeks,” you mutter. “It was last fall.” You add that bit, proactively laying out the timeline as if it could somehow soften the blow or make the situation less complicated. Leigh, however, looks like you've just knocked the wind out of her. She looks away, her expression shifting into something like shock or deep pain. Alarm bells ring in your head at the picture before you.

“Hey, did I say something wrong?” you say in a rush. “I mean, this whole situation is messed up, but if I—”

Leigh’s eyes are glass as they return to you. When she speaks again, her voice is so soft you almost have to lean in to hear. “Last fall... That's when I told Matt we should start trying for a baby.”

The words drain the color from your face. And suddenly, all the pieces of your story with Matt feels even more tainted.

You're not sure what your face gives away when you hear this news, but Leigh's expression quickly shifts from tearful to furious. “Stop feeling sorry for me,” she hisses. “I don’t need your pity.”

Leigh's tears start to spill over, and it's only 7:30 in the morning. It feels way too early for tears, especially here, in the middle of a coffee shop where the day is just beginning for most. You try to shrink into your seat, wishing you could make both of you invisible as the few other patrons start throwing curious, if not outright concerned, looks your way.

You never realized a simple conversation could cause someone so much pain. You thought providing Leigh with answers would help, but it looks like you're just making things even harder for her. Maybe keeping your distance from her is the kindest thing you can do.

“You know the worst part?” Leigh brushes away the tears that keep streaking down her face.

Clearly, she isn't looking for an answer, so you stay silent.

She makes sure she catches your eye before saying, “He agreed, and we started trying.”

-

Leigh catches her breath after wrapping up her class at the Beautiful Beast. 

She took a day off yesterday, immediately after talking with you, spending the whole day in bed just trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings. Surprisingly, wasting away for a whole day seemed to help, and her concerns gradually drifted back to her fight with Jules. It’s been days, and Leigh feels the urgency of reconciliation pressing on her. By this point, they should be on speaking terms again. By now, Jules should have let go of her anger, right? Leigh knows she can't afford to have her sister hating her. At least not right now. She needs her family, or what’s left of it—on her side. 

“Hey, Jules, got a sec? About the schedule…” Leigh tries, hoping work might be a safe enough topic to get her sister to acknowledge her existence once again.

Jules barely glances her way. Her hands keep moving, adjusting a strap here, aligning yoga mats there, as if the very act could shield her from having to engage. “Sorted. Check your email,” she replies, her voice cold and detached.

Leigh nods, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “Great, great... um, did you consider adding that beginners' workshop we talked about?”

Jules stops for a beat, and Leigh thinks, maybe she's going to drop it. But no, Jules resumes fussing over items that hardly require any attention. Then, without even looking up, she says, “Yeah, it's on the list. Anything else?”

Leigh tries to keep her cool, wishing Jules would just cut to the chase and tell her what needs to be done for all to be forgiven. 

Trying a different tactic, Leigh goes, “Hey, found a Starbucks card in my bag. How 'bout I grab us some coffee? My treat.”

Leigh’s trying. She really is. Why can’t they see that?

Jules just gives her that look, the kind that doesn't need words, and heads back to her desk. And there's Leigh, offer of a beverage truce just floating in the air, going nowhere.

Getting ignored really gets under Leigh's skin. Back in the day, Matt's habit of brushing her off would drive her to the edge. She'd respond with over-the-top demands or twist things around just to make sure he’d always pay attention to her. She didn't start off wanting to be that person, but looking back, she sees the lengths she'd go to just to keep his attention from straying. 

Unable to control herself, she heads straight for Jules, grabs her arm despite her trying to wiggle free, and yanks her into the backroom.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Jules explodes, not caring if anyone’s heard her outside.

They're both standing there, kind of shocked by how heated things got so fast. Jules’ shout might've turned a few heads outside, but right now, that's the least of Leigh's worries.

“How many times do I need to apologize, for you to get over this?”

Jules’ eyes are wide in disbelief, her mouth twisting into a sardonic smile, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, Leigh! This is exactly why I’m not talking to you,” Jules hisses, but keeps her voice down this time.

“What—”

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

Leigh's initial scoff dies in her throat as she watches Jules' expression twist with hurt. “Yeah, okay, I said sorry about the crap I pulled the other day. I know I was out of line, talking about your past like that—”

Jules doesn't let her finish. “You weren't just being ‘out of line’, Leigh. You threw the worst time of my life in my face! Do you have any idea how hurtful that is? Coming from my own sister? From my own family? What, just to win an argument? To cover up for acting like a jerk at the club?”

Leigh goes quiet, but her face hardens, trying not to show how much Jules' words hit her right in the gut. What she said, laid out like that, it sounds…well, unforgivable.

“I'm trying, okay?” Leigh blurts out without thinking.

“Shouldn't be that hard to just be a decent human being, should it?” Jules shoots back, her dismissal sharp as she exits the cramped space, leaving Leigh reeling.

Under her breath, almost like she's talking to the walls, Leigh mumbles, “I'm really sorry…” It's quiet, almost lost in the room, but she means it the most at this very moment, even if no one's around to catch it.

-

Leigh clocks out from work, her day's fatigue hanging off her shoulders like a weighty cloak. Instead of heading straight home, she veers off her usual path, her feet bringing her to places that made breathing difficult the first few weeks after Matt's death. She's walking the same old route she always did when he was still around, back to when her home address was different and she'd pick up takeout from his favorite places along the way.

There’s the park first, the one where she and Matt spent countless afternoons sprawled on the grass, lying side by side as they watched the sky blush into shades of orange at sunset. She allows herself only a fleeting glance at the familiar paths and the bench they claimed theirs, feeling the same regret, the same hollowness as she remembers the good times they had there. 

In the back of her mind, she can't shake off the worry that maybe you've been here too, making your own memories with him. She doesn’t feel the surge of anger at this thought however. Instead, a part of her is almost willing to share these sacred memories if it means holding onto him in any form. She wants to believe that her jealousy has faded into a quieter acceptance that others might also carry pieces of him, pieces she's learning to live with.

Pulling herself away from the park, Leigh's walk inevitably leads her past Matt's favorite Italian restaurant—a quaint, cozy place where they celebrated most of their birthdays and, on occasion, anniversaries, especially when neither felt like cooking (which became an increasingly common choice in the months leading up to his accident).

She remembers how Matt's face would light up at the prospect of their rich, creamy carbonara and the tiramisu he claimed was unrivaled in the city. She recalls the numerous times she attempted to recreate the restaurant's tiramisu at home, aiming to surprise Matt at least once a month. Despite her efforts, if she truly wanted to indulge him, she knew there was no substitute for the real thing. So, on special days, or whenever she felt an extra burst of affection, she'd stop by the restaurant on her way home, picking up takeout. 

A waitress from the restaurant notices Leigh's lingering gaze and asks if she'd like a table. With a shy smile, Leigh declines, then pauses before finally deciding to order a tiramisu to go.

When she returns to her mom's house and eats the tiramisu alone, it tastes different. 

Leigh can't decide if the difference in the tiramisu's taste is good or bad, but that doesn't stop her. She finishes the entire slice in minutes. But instead of feeling full, it makes her feel emptier. Perhaps, it’s not the flavor that's changed; it's the experience of eating it without Matt's enthusiastic commentary, without him lighting up at the first bite or playfully claiming the last one, despite his generous offer to let her have it.

Suddenly, tears just start pouring out of Leigh as she sits there with an empty plate. She didn't see it coming, no chance to stop it or shove it down. Then, she finds herself laughing—a deep, throaty laugh—because she's grieved for him in countless ways, but this, crying over a dessert, has to be the most absurd. It's exactly the kind of moment they would have laughed at together.

Deciding that that would be her dinner, Leigh cleans up the small mess she's made and considers the evening ahead. But just as she’s about to sink into the couch for a quiet night, her phone buzzes, making her jump.

Seeing your name flash on her screen, she sighs, sensing a familiar bitterness creeping back in, disrupting the soothing moments she had just spent reminiscing about Matt. She lets it ring a few times more before picking up.

“Hi, Y/N,” Leigh says, managing to keep her voice steady over the phone.

“Hey,” you start, unsure how to break the ice after everything. Especially with what you’re about to say next.

“Listen, something happened today at the clinic. Someone came in looking for their lost French Bulldog, and they had a picture,” you pause to breathe. “Leigh, it looks a lot like Visitor.”

On the other end of the line, you can practically hear Leigh's heart skip a beat.

“Hello?” you ask, checking to make sure she's still there after she doesn't respond for several seconds.

“Are you sure?” Leigh’s voice cracks slightly.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure,” you say softly, feeling a surge of empathy. “I'm sending you the picture now. Check it out and tell me what you think.”

You hit send and then wait for Leigh’s confirmation.

“It's him. It's definitely Visitor,” she says a moment later.

You're relieved but also concerned about what comes next. “So, what are you going to do?”

Leigh hesitates, and when she speaks again, she doesn’t give a direct answer. “Thank you, Y/N,” she says, and you pick up something in her tone. Something somber. 

“Everything alright?” 

But the line's already dead, leaving you staring at your phone, wondering what she is up to.

-

Leigh stands outside the community center, her hand lingering on the door longer than usual.  It's been weeks since she last came to a session. First, there was the shock of uncovering Matt's darkest secret, and now, there's the issue of the man inside, already looking her way, waiting to see her next move.

Danny appearing at her doorstep earlier in the week caught her completely off guard—and not in a good way. The moment she realized it was him, Leigh didn't hesitate to close the door in his face. After she shut him out, it escalated to the point where she threatened to call the police because he wouldn't stop pounding on the door and shouting for Leigh to let him in, insisting he just wanted to talk. His last attempt to get through to her fell flat when he flooded her inbox with texts and missed calls, pushing Leigh to the point where she blocked his number for good.

Despite the problem of Danny being here tonight, Leigh isn't willing to walk away from this just because of him. She's already given up so much lately, most recently Visitor—or Chico, as she found out his real name was—and his absence carved a fresh ache in her heart that she hadn't seen coming.

So, she takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, ignoring the smirk on Danny’s face as she proceeds to pretend like he doesn’t exist.

-

Somehow, after the meeting, Leigh ends up saying yes to a quick chat with Danny. He reels her in with the news that he submitted Matt’s remaining works—which he got custody of—to his publisher, and they were keen to publish them posthumously. 

Leigh can't help but throw in a bit of shade. “That's nice of you, doing something good for your brother, even if it's a bit late.”

Danny's face drops a little. Her words were sharp enough to hurt him, but he doesn't bite back or get in her face about it, which totally throws Leigh for a loop. After all the time she'd spent ignoring him, she had expected him to be at his worst around her.

And then he surprises her even more when he says, “Let me give you a ride home? It's the least I can do…”

Leigh arches an eyebrow. She didn’t bring the car tonight because Jules had a thing with Tommy, and she didn’t want to give her sister another reason to resent her. A ride from Danny beats the alternatives of walking or shelling out for a pricey cab, especially now that her phone's battery has given out, nixing the option of booking an Uber.

But this is Danny. Matt’s brother, and the guy she hooked up with because she thought she’d get back some semblance of her dead husband. After Jules pointed out how messed up it was that they'd slept together, Leigh's been all over the place. The rules around what they were doing either turned her off or, weirdly enough, made the whole thing more enticing, taboo and all. That's a big part of why she's been steering clear of him. Hanging out with Danny feels like reaching for a cigarette long after she's sworn off smoking.

Even with all that swirling in her head, Leigh ends up saying, “Sure, why not?”

Before she knows it, she's also agreeing to a drink at his place.

-

The second they step into his apartment, something inside of Leigh snaps. Acting on impulse, she grabs Danny by the collar and kisses him fiercely. She clenches his shirt in her hands, practically tearing it in her grip. Danny's initial surprise melts away in seconds, and then he’s kissing her just as hard, his tongue prying open her lips, taking control of the kiss right away. His hands find her waits, pulling her closer, practically already half-lifting her against the wall.

Leigh, caught up in the moment, begins to move her hips in a rocking motion against him. The action is effective enough to distract him from where he’s kissing every inch of Leigh’s neck, and he retaliates by suddenly pressing her more firmly against the wall, pinning her with his hips, their chests are tightly pressed together.

But as Leigh's fingers begin to fumble with the button of Danny's pants, he catches her hands gently and, panting, says, “Wait, Leigh, hold on for just a sec.” 

Leigh’s eyes fly open at his voice, irritation and impatience coloring them. “What?” she gasps out. 

He ignores the hard edges of her tone. He wants more—something real—and he's hoping she does too.

“I can’t do this again unless I know it’s going somewhere,” Danny says. He gently lets go of Leigh and takes a step back, trying to collect himself. It's a tough task, though, with Leigh looking the way she does—hair all tousled, lips slightly swollen and marked from when he got a bit carried away, her cheeks tinged with a warm flush. He could’ve made her come in the next two minutes, he’s sure of it.

At Danny's confession, Leigh can't help it; she bursts into laughter. The idea of him catching feelings now, of all times, seems absurd to her. As she laughs, Danny's jaw tightens, but he waits patiently for her to finish.

When Leigh finally notices the seriousness etched across Danny's face, her amusement evaporates almost instantly. The realization that he's not joking strikes her, and it doesn't sit well. Not one bit.

“What, you think because your brother's gone, you get to... what? Step in? Take his place?” she spits out, incredulous. “This is never going to be anything more than a quick fuck, Danny.”

In his desperation, he calls her bluff. “You’re lying.”

Leigh's reaction morphs into a cruel sneer. “If you're going to insist on something more, then we're just wasting our time,” she mutters, turning to leave.

Danny's not ready to let her walk away, not yet. He grabs her arm, and for a second, they're just staring each other down, a silent battle raging between them. Leigh’s resolve is impenetrable.

It’s Danny who cracks first, exhaling a defeated, “Fine.”

But Leigh's not having any half-measures. She whirls around, fire in her eyes. “Nope. Say it properly,” she demands.

With a sigh that feels like he's giving away a part of himself, Danny looks at her, worn and resigned. “This doesn't have to mean anything,” he says even if it’s the last thing he wants.

Leigh locks eyes with him, a storm brewing in her look. Just when Danny thinks it's better to just drop it, she throws him a question out of nowhere. 

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” Danny asks, genuinely puzzled.

“About Matt and me... trying for a baby when he... you know.”

“He... he never mentioned anything like that,” he says, feeling the pain she’s radiating. Leigh looks like she’s about to fall apart and all he wants is to be the one to gather her pieces and put them all back together.

No more words follow from Leigh. It's as if the question drained what was left of the conversation. Without warning, she surges forward, her lips meeting Danny’s in a bruising kiss, then she grabs Danny's hands, placing them firmly back on her waist. He gets the message loud and clear, and together they quickly shed their clothes, letting them fall in a heap around their feet. She comes about twelve minutes and thirty seconds later.

-

It's been eight days—not that you're keeping track or anything. But after giving Leigh the heads-up that someone’s been looking for a dog that looks exactly like Visitor, you were kind of expecting she’d at least update you if it really was him or not.

So, when a client strolls in later with Visitor, who's actually called Chico according to the file your secretary slips you, you're a little disappointed it's not Leigh showing up instead. It must have been incredibly tough for her to return Chico to his real family. She invested her heart, time, and not to mention her wallet, into that dog, caring for him as if he were her own.

Thinking she’d be relieved to know he’s in good hands, you send her a text to update her about Chico's visit to the clinic today. You mention how healthy and content he seems, yet you hazard a guess that he's probably missing Leigh too. 

She sees your message right away, and then leaves you on read.

-

Her thing with Danny turns into a late-night ritual, particularly after Drew fails to respond to her following their conversation, not even offering her a guest column in the weeks that followed their talk. Drew continues to invite her for coffee and dinner dates along with his fiancée, but he avoids the topic about the column, so Leigh stops asking.

The hookups are always a post-midnight impulse. She’d find herself sneaking out of her mother's house to meet him, driven by a mix of need and escape, or occasionally, by insomnia. After their moments together, she never lingers in Danny's bed for too long once she's found her satisfaction, eager to shower away his scent from her skin. 

Back at home, she ensures there's no trace of their deed by the time she slips into bed, allowing herself to sleep deep into the middle of the day. This pattern of nocturnal activity and daytime slumber has led her mother to adjust Leigh's responsibilities, moving her to take charge of the afternoon classes instead. This behavior earns her suspicious glances from Jules, but Leigh chooses to ignore them—if Jules isn't interested in reconciling, then she has no right to concern herself with Leigh's personal affairs.

Leigh doesn’t know how she got here, back at the beginning, in an ever messier situation. She can't stop fucking Danny, her emotions for Matt are a rollercoaster—she finds herself forgiving him and cursing him interchangeably a couple of times a day. 

She's astounded this is her life now, seemingly unable to talk herself out of decisions that pull her deeper into chaos.

-

A month later, Leigh becomes a distant memory. Following a series of tumultuous encounters, your life gradually returns to its normal rhythm—quiet, ordinary days filled with clinic work, attending to various cases, meeting new clients, and addressing the myriad issues of small animals. All of these tasks prove easier to deal with than anything involving Leigh Shaw.

The sole noteworthy event in your generally uneventful life lately was your latest visit to a physician for an annual physical exam. The blood tests revealed some numbers outside the normal range, notably elevated cholesterol levels. Consequently, your doctor advised you to integrate exercise into your daily regimen and to reduce your consumption of takeout meals, specifically pizza and Chinese fast food.

It’s a big sacrifice, considering your day usually flies by without much thought for food, except for dinner. It’s the one time in your day you actually look forward to. So, to hold onto that bit of happiness, you've been looking at fitness classes that are actually enjoyable and help burn those extra calories to keep you in shape.

Yoga stands out as the top choice for you, mainly because it all unfolds on a mat. You assume it'll demand the least amount of effort compared to the other options (specifically spinning), which all seem to promise nothing but pain and suffering.

Deciding to give yoga a shot, you choose Beautiful Beast, swayed by its stellar reviews. You secure a slot for a 6pm class, feeling pretty good about this decision.

That is, until Leigh Shaw walks into the said class, clad in a sports bra and tight-fitting leggings that highlight her toned legs. She’s busy on her phone, and without looking up, she walks to the front of the room. 

What are the chances you'd both be in the same class at the same fitness studio? The plot thickens when she pockets her phone and turns to face the class, gesturing for everyone to get their mats ready as the session's about to start.

You swallow hard. Leigh isn't here as a joiner—she's running it.

It takes about a quarter of the session for Leigh to notice you’re in her class. It's only while she's making her rounds, observing each student's camel pose, that her gaze finally lands on you. Struggling through your lack of core strength, you can't quite catch her initial reaction, but then she calls out your name. The surprise makes you gasp as she places her hand on the curve of your spine, just above the small of your back, and gently pushes you upward, deepening your arch. 

The stretch draws a grimace from you, but then she says, “Good, that's it,” and suddenly, you're determined not to let her down. You focus on the pose, on Leigh's instructions, and on not falling apart under her watchful eye. Leigh keeps everyone in the position a few moments longer than expected before instructing the class to transition into the child's pose for recovery. At her cue, your arms collapse, and you find yourself breathing heavily, grateful for the brief respite.

Something tells you it's not the high cholesterol that's going to be the end of you, but rather this yoga class and Leigh's merciless teaching style. 

-

You're all packed up and ready to leave, still reeling from what could easily be the toughest hour of your life, when someone calls out to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

It's Leigh. Her tone is softer, more fatigued than you remember. She’s still in her gym clothes, looking like the workout barely touched her except for a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead. And somehow, she smells more like a rose garden than the gym floor.

“I didn’t know you work here—” you blurt out, almost apologizing. But before you can add anything else, Leigh just shakes her head, something like amusement in her smile, stopping you mid-sentence. Her smile, warm and a little teasing, eases some of the tension you didn't realize you were holding. 

“Are you a mind reader or something?” she teases. “Cause yeah, I was going to ask if you were following me.”

You’re quick to deny it. “I wasn’t.”

Leigh lets out a chuckle like she's getting a kick out of seeing you on edge. You shuffle your feet, still unsure if she’s trying to scare you off or welcome you to her tutelage.  

“Look, if it's weird for you, me being here... I can find another class,” you offer, the words tumbling out before you can think them through.

Her reaction is swift and a bit surprising, “Why would I want that? So you can duck out and be a rubbish yogi elsewhere and ruin my reputation?”

You’re taken aback by her response. Clearly, Leigh's not pushing you away; it's almost as if she's egging you on, daring you to stick it out. And if there's any hope of moving past this... whatever it is, leaving now because it might get awkward doesn't seem like the right move to make a fresh start.

“All right, I'll stay,” you find yourself saying, more to your surprise than hers. 

Leigh's got this look of triumph, chin lifted just so, when you agree to stick around. “See you at 5:30. Greenway Park,” she throws out casually.

You're there blinking, trying to piece together what she means. But before you can even get a word out, she's one step ahead. 

“We have to work on your endurance,” she clarifies. “Make sure you’re wearing real running shoes. No sneakers.”

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Bloodied Hands

Summary: Colter Shaw x Fe!Reader -> When you get hurt on a case, Colter stays with you.

Disclaimer: I don't really know what this is. Mostly caring fluff with a little angst, I suppose. Descriptions of blood, surgery, being in hospital. Not proof read.

Having felt a familiar hand on your arm, you woke up to find Colter stood over you. 

“I need to change your bandage.” 

Too tired to reply, you nodded and he helped you sit up before, slowly, you lifted the hem of your t-shirt to allow him access to your stomach. 

Colter was careful when he unravelled the old bandage, and he was doubly careful when he cleaned your wound and redressed it. 

His fingers were light against your skin, trying their best to avoid hurting you. 

“There. Done.”

“Stay with me?” You asked, opening your eyes long enough to take a mental image of his face. 

He nodded after a moment. “Let me just get rid of these.”

He was back less than thirty seconds later, walking to the opposite side of his bed. 

“Come here,” he said in a low voice. 

Every movement you made was slow, but he waited. He would wait a lifetime if he had to. 

Taking you into his side, your hand clung to his arm as they wrapped around you, your back toon propped against his chest. 

“Anything else hurting?”

You shook your head a little. “I just want to sleep.”

“Okay,” Colter replied before absentmindedly kissing your temple. “You sleep?”

“Stay with me?”

“Always.”

It wasn’t long before your breathing became even and the tensed weight in his arms softened, drifting into a hopefully dreamless sleep. 

But Colter remained awake. He couldn’t help but have his brain run over the last week. From when you surprised him at his trailer, dressed in a raincoat and carrying a foil covered dish. 

Reenie had called you, telling you Colter was in the area and since he didn’t know you had moved, you decided to surprise him. 

However, when Teddi and Velma called only a few minutes later, it turned out you knew the family considering you were the one to last treat their animals. 

That night, you helped Colter with some research. Bobby would still be asleep and since you and Colter had nothing better to do than talk and catch up, you pulled out his laptop and began researching. 

Colter smiled at the memory, seeing you easily get into his laptop. 

You had grilled him slightly for using the same password as he did years prior. 

That night, you fell asleep on his bed. But rather than wake you, offering to drive you home, he pulled a spare blanket from his cupboard and covered your body. 

By the time you woke up in the morning, you were alone. But there was no surprise there. You figured Colter still went on his morning runs. 

He called it a morning run. You called it torture. 

By the time he got back, you were pulling on a pair of grey cable knit socks and tucking your yellow t-shirt into your jeans. 

“Have you seen my-”

Colter found your hair clip on the side. “This?”

“Yes.”

Plucking it from his hands, you moved to find a mirror and twisted your hair around your fingers before clipping it back. 

If Colter knew less than a week later he’d be carrying that clip in a bag of your belongings…it wouldn’t have changed anything. But it made him think. 

Eventually, Colter and yourself managed to track the stolen animals to a farm across town. They had a couple of abandoned sheds a couple of acres away. Only, yourself and Colter had gotten separated. 

And just as he was talking one of the thief’s down from murder, you were fighting for your life, surrounded by caged animals. 

By the time your attacker, and the second thief, ran outside, he was met with police cars and armed officers. 

Inside the first barn hadn’t just been animals, but also enough drugs to warrant a ten year prison sentence, minimum. 

Only, as Colter was talking to the sheriff, he mentioned you. 

“And where is your partner? We’d like her to check the animals over before we take them back to their owners.”

“Yeah, she’s…”

Colter looked round and finally spotted you. Except, something was different. Wrong. 

He called your name, but you barely heard him. All you could do was look at your hands. 

“C-colter.”

That was all it took for him to start running across to you. 

“Hey, what- oh my god. Medic! Someone call an ambulance! Hey, hey, hey, what happened?”

All you could do was say his name again before you felt your legs grow weak and your body drop. But he caught you. Barely. 

“Whoa, hey, hey, okay. Take it easy. Hey, y/n? Y/n, I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me?”

“It’s gonna take a while before an ambulance can get out here.”

Colter looked you over. The sheriff was right. And you might not last that long. 

“Put her in my car. I can get you there in half the time.”

Colter nodded, moving his eyes back to you. “I need you to stay with me, okay? This is gonna hurt, but we’re gonna get you to a hospital.”

You nodded, weakly. 

“Put your arm around me.”

Within seconds, Colter was carrying you to the Sheriff’s car and getting into the back seat with you. 

Half way, you passed out, so you couldn’t remember much until you woke up in the hospital a few days later. 

But Colter could. 

He was applying pressure to your wound, your blood swirling over his hand whilst his mother cradled your head and tried to keep you awake. He called your name. Louder still when you passed out. 

It was a whirlwind, pulling up outside the hospital and carrying you inside whilst the Sheriff called for a doctor. 

A bed was brought over immediately and you got rushed into the OR. They forced both Colter and the Sheriff to stay behind the doors and all Colter could do was stand there, watching you be wheeled away. 

A few hours later, a training nurse walked over and handed him a bag of your things. And his mind went blank. 

“Shouldn’t- shouldn’t she have her stuff?”

The nurse nodded. “We’re waiting on a room for her, but it’s best if you keep hold of her things. That way they don’t get lost.”

“S-so, so she’s okay?”

The nurse nodded, with a slight smile. “Your wife is going to be fine. Sore, for a while. And tired. But they say her odds look good.”

Colter felt his entire body suddenly relax and tears came to his eyes. “Oh, thank god.”

“I’ll ask the Doc how long it’ll be before you can see her, but I doubt it’ll be long. Once we get her set up, you can see her.”

“Okay. Thank you. And please, thank everyone for me. I- I don’t even-”

But the nurse just smiled at him. “That’s okay. I’ll be back in a minute.”

As the nurse walked away, Colter sat down holding your bag of belongings in his hand. Inside were your clothes, plus your bloodied t-shirt. Along with your hair clip. 

Pulling out his phone, he made a call to Reenie. 

“No, no. They said she’s going to be fine.”

“Not that I’m not glad they are, but why are they telling you all of this?”

“I ran in with her and-”

Then it dawned on Colter. 

Wife.

“And they think I’m her husband.”

Rennie sighed. “Good. Let them keep thinking that. I’m gonna catch the next flight out. Please keep her safe.”

“Always.”

A few hours later, they let Colter in to see you. 

They had you dressed in a hospital gown and you had a couple tubes in your arms. If you hadn’t been slashed with a knife, lay in a hospital and if he still didn’t have your blood on his hands, Colter would have thought you were at home, sleeping. 

You looked peaceful. 

Still. 

Colter placed your belongings at the foot of your bed before sitting in the chair beside your bed. Even the thought of having lost you sent Colter spiralling. Which was why he reached out and touched your hand. He needed to know you were alive. 

Then he started counting your pulse from your wrist with the machine beside your bed. 

And he did that everytime he came in to see you until you finally woke up. 

When you did, Colter was asleep, holding both your hand and your wrist. There was a blanket over his shoulders which you could only guess was from one of the nurses. 

It took you a moment but everything came back and the last thing you could remember was Colter’s voice calling your name in the back of the Sheriff’s car. 

Carefully, you removed your hand from Colter’s before pushing back the hair from his face. 

“Colter?”

It took him a moment before coming round. 

“Colter?” You asked once more, your thumb rubbing at his temple. 

And when he did finally open his eyes, it took him a moment before he realised you were awake. 

His hand came to yours before he placed it in both of his hands and he stood up. “You’re awake.”

It wasn’t long before a nurse came inside with a bright smile, once she saw you were awake. 

“You’re lucky your husband got you here as quickly as he did. Breathe in for me.”

You leaned forward a little more, looking at Colter who had a little coy smile on his face. Clearly he hadn’t shut down the ‘husband’ thing. You took a deep breath in. 

“Reenie’ll be glad to know you’re finally awake.”

And she was. She arrived a couple of hours later, rushing inside before hugging you as tight as she could without hurting you. 

It wasn’t long after that, along with a few teasing words from Reenie about being ‘the happy couple’, that she got called away for a case and you were finally discharged. 

“She’ll need help changing her bandages,” The nurses explained to Colter, handing him a couple extra supplies and a list of things you’d have to get and how to use them. 

It was never a second thought to Colter to bring you back to his home. He could have driven you the hour and a half to your place, but he wanted you close. And safe. 

You would be at home, and you would be with him. But…it was just something a little extra. 

And you never questioned it. In fact, you avoided bringing it up to avoid the conversation that you should go home and that he should leave, most likely, for his next case. 

And when you asked him to stay, you were glad he did so. 

Because falling asleep in his arms was the place you felt most safe. 

[cyanbugremix]

Sick Vampire - Stories of the Shaw Pack

Characters: Darlin'(Tank)/Sam, Vincent, Marie

CW: None; Fluff

Written August 2023

Summary: Sam gets sick and Darlin' is there to take care of him.

Can be found ✨here on Ao3✨, written by moi (cyan_bug37 on Ao3)

~~~~

Sam rarely got sick. Honestly it was a surprise that vampires could even get sick at all. Yet here he was, his head muddy and heavy, his nose making it hard to breathe, and standing up made him dizzy. One of his occasional coughs would ring out in the silent home. He had felt this way for awhile, but he honestly couldn’t remember what day it was.

“Google doesn’t say anything about vampires getting sick,” Darlin’ walked in with a warmed up mug. “Maybe we should call Vincent?”

Sam leaned forehead into his hands, his head too heavy to keep looking up. Darlin’s warm hands settled onto the nape of his neck, and stroked all the way down to his shoulders. Darlin’ was starting to get worried, as this was the third day Sam didn’t seem to be getting any better. They couldn’t tell if he had a fever, his temperature was not accurately reading on the thermometer, and honestly, Darlin’ couldn’t tell if his temperature actually changed.

“Sure,” Sam slurred, the effort of talking felt too difficult to do.

Darlin’ grabbed his hands and carefully placed the mug in them. His hands were shaking. Luckily they had put a straw in there, seeing as lifting the mug was a great effort. Sam took a sip of the drink and closed his eyes.

“I’m gonna be back in a second,” Darlin’ kissed his temple. “Just keep drinking the tea.”

Darlin’ slowly got up and grabbed their phone from the kitchen. Clicking on Vincent’s contact they held the phone up to their ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Vincent. This is Tank. Uh, Sam is sick. He’s not doing too hot, and I– I don’t know what to do? I figured I would call you before I tried calling a healer in my pack. Do vampires get sick?”

“Woah. Okay. How sick is he?”

Darlin’ bit their lip before responding, “He’s gotten worse from the first day. He can barely stand up without possibly fainting. And he seems to have a headache and he keeps talking to a minimum. He doesn’t seem very hungry either, I mean, vampires don’t eat much in general, but his appetite is unusual.”

“How long has he been like this?”

“Three days,” Darlin’ replied.

“I remember William saying that vampires can get sick sometimes if they drink bad blood–”

“He could be poisoned?!” Darlin’ panicked.

“Nononono. Not– no. It’s more like picking up a bug from school when you were a kid. Bad blood is a terrible term for this– He’ll be fine. Considering that I haven’t ever seen Sam sick before, this could be his first time exposed to the bug. I got sick like that once. You just have to wait it out.”

Darlin’ exhaled.

“I would suggest the usual when someone is sick, to just let them rest. I’d also call your healer if you want to double check. Make sure he gets something to drink from in a few days, if he’s still sick.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll text you if William suggests anything else. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine,” Vincent replied.

“I appreciate it, Vincent,” Darlin’ said.

“No problem! I hope he feels better soon!” Vincent said his farewell.

Darlin’ decided to call Marie next. Even though they didn’t know if Marie knew how to cure vampires, it still wouldn’t hurt. “Hi, Marie,” Darlin’ said as soon as they heard the phone pick up.

“Hi kiddo, what’s wrong?”

“Sam is sick,” Darlin began, and then proceeded to list off his symptoms that they told Vincent. “Do you know anything to help him feel better?”

“It's quite interesting that a vampire can get sick. I can’t say that I know anything about it though. I never really dealt with vampires much. I could come over today and see if I can do anything about it,” Marie suggested.

“That would be good. Thank you,” Darlin’ agreed.

“Sounds good. I’ll come by this afternoon.”

With that, the calls were done, and Darlin’ took a deep breath.

Then Sam called their name. Darlin’ quickly walked back into the living room. Sam had sat the mug down on the coffee table and was resting on his hand.

“Hey, how are you feeling,” Darlin’ brushed the hair out of his face. They sat down next to him, still with a hand on his forehead.

“Stop. . checkin’. . . for a fev’r, Darlin’,” Sam said, leaning down to place his head on his mate’s shoulder.

“I don’t think you can tell me what to do. You’re the sick one, who can barely even sit up,” Darlin’ retorted. Sam grumbled but stayed flopped over onto his mate.

“M’head hurts,” Sam then said.

“I know, baby,” Darlin’ stroked his hair. “I know.”

Sam harshly inhaled. “M’sorry.”

Darlin’ frowned, “For what?”

“Bein’ sick. I’m supposed to be takin’ care of you.”

Darlin’ couldn’t help but smile. “You’re my mate. I take care of you when you need it. Just like you take care of me, whether I’m upset, or sick, or bleeding out, or even all at once. I'd do the same for you, because I love you.”

They wrapped their arms around Sam, gently rubbing circles on his back. They stayed like that, while Sam heavily breathed and sniffed a couple times. He mumbled a thank you at some point.

“I called Marie,” Darlin’ quietly said. “She’s gonna come over and check you out this afternoon.”

Sam tapped his fingers twice on Darlin’. Ok.

“You should sleep,” Darlin’ added. They patted his back and he moved to lay back down. Except he dragged Darlin’ down onto him as well. “Sam. You have to let me go.”

“No. . . lay with me,” Sam peeked an eye open. Darlin’ looked into his red eyes and noted the dark circles under them.

“Ok.” They laid their head back down and lifted their legs up to lay between Sam’s. “This alright?”

Sam hummed, “Yes.”

Really they should be working on lunch, or dinner. They didn’t really like cooking, but they knew that home made foods were good for fighting colds, and it also gave them incentive to eat, which pleased Sam. Yet they also hadn’t slept with him in awhile, preferring to take naps in the nearby arm chair and then getting up again to make sure he was okay before worrying about taking care of him again. It was nice to finally be in his arms.

"Y'take such good care of me," Sam mumbled. His grip barely tightened around Darlin'.

Between Sam’s sighs and breathing— no matter how harsh they sounded— and the lack of sleep they accumulated, Darlin’ closed their eyes, sleep eventually taking over them as they comfortably laid in their lover’s arms.

~~~~

As always, I have no ownership or rights to these characters, stories, or franchises. I write this to appreciate the content Redacted ASMR/audio makes. Anything I write is not official in their stories, other than using moments from the original story line. I make no profit from this.

Please don't steal.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Swearing Is Caring

Second square for @jacklesverse-bingo 2024!

Written for Jacklesversebingo2024. Prompt for this one is 'drenched in sweat and blood but never looked hotter.' Hope you enjoy!

The last time Andi showed up on Russ's doorstep, he was more than happy to see her. This time is different. But he never could stay mad at her for long, and making up is the best part.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x OC (Andi)

Word Count: 3835

Warnings: Just a little smut and fluff, non-lethal injuries

Andi sat in the car outside the cabin, fingers clenched around the steering wheel as she expelled a tense breath between pursed lips. He was not going to be happy, but she had already decided it was worth it. He’d just have to deal with it.

She pried her fingers loose and got out of her car, loading her bag on one shoulder and heading for the door. She lifted her chin, then knocked briskly before stepping inside.

Russell came out of the next room, his gun held low at his hip, his entire body alert and aware. When his focus landed on her, his shoulders relaxed and he tucked his gun away with a frown. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Andi looked him in the eye. “Heard you were a man down. So I’m here to help.”

He tucked his gun away, shaking his head, his lips pressed into a straight line as he glared at her. “Goddammit, Andi. She called you, didn’t she.”

“Ann? Yeah, she called me. But this was my decision.”

“Well, I’m overruling your decision. Go home.” He turned his back to walk away, but he didn’t get far.

“I’m not leaving, Russ.”

He whirled to face her again, his eyes sparking with anger at her defiance. “You’re a fucking civilian. You’ve got no business getting involved in this.”

“She said one of the guys was out with an injury and your team was going in down a gun. I’m not letting you go in short when I’m this close. So deal with it, Russell. I’m not leaving. You can’t send me home, Horizon hired me for this job. Out of your hands, big man.”

She pushed her way by him, entering the next room where the rest of the team was gathered. “Andi?! Holy shit!” She grinned at the ebony-skinned giant who charged at her, pulling her off the floor in a bear hug. “Come here, baby girl! Damn, it’s good to see you!”

She was laughing as he set her down. “Hey, Sweets. Good to see you, too. Hey, Seeger,” she said to another former teammate, who gave her a one-armed hug and friendly smirk, returning her greeting.

Sweets shoved at the shoulder of the younger man beside him. “This is Conner.”

Andi smiled and nodded. “Hey, Conner. Nice to meet you.”

“Didn’t tell us Andi was comin’ with us, chief,” Sweets aimed at Russell, who was still glowering.

“Didn’t know. Now if the reunion is over, can we get back to business?” Russ turned his back on them, smoothing the map out flat on the large table. Sweets glanced at Andi, who rolled her eyes, earning her a smirk and a nod from the big man as they gathered around the table.

Russ went over the mission details, pointing out entry points, expected resistance and their plan of attack. “Our objective is to capture Salazar. End of story. They want him alive. So we do what we have to. We’re not looking to take anybody else in, and we do what we have to do to grab him and get him out of there. Horizon will handle clean-up, we just do our job and get the hell out.”

The team listened as he outlined the mission in a little more detail. “Salazar is a big dog in the cartel we’ve been targeting for the last year. He bought this little Texas hideaway to meet up with his mistress on the sly, and the intel is that he doesn’t normally bring too many men with him, likes to keep it on the down low. Horizon wants Salazar first, and DEA can have him when they’re done.”

After a couple of quiet questions and discussion, they separated to gear up. Andi pulled her vest from her bag and strapped it on, her eyes straying to Russ as he was doing the same. He hadn’t even looked at her since their first altercation, and she clenched her teeth with a sigh, forcing her emotions down as she finished getting ready. She’d fight with him later.

They loaded up into two jeeps, Andi crawling in the back of the one Russ was driving with Sweets in the passenger seat. It was a long, quiet drive, about 45 minutes to their destination, everyone tense and silent. Finally, Russ stated, “We’re about 5 minutes out,” and Andi steeled herself, focusing on the job ahead.

“Hey, Sweets – I don’t suppose…” she started, and he turned to her with a grin, reaching into a pocket and handing her a stick of her favorite cinnamon gum. “You never let me down, Sweets,” she smiled, and he nodded.

“I got your back, girl.”

Russ pulled the Jeep to a halt, putting it in park and shutting off the lights. “Okay, we’re on foot from here,” he said as the other vehicle pulled in behind him. They all piled out, Russ giving orders in a clear, quiet voice. “Sweets, you and Andi take the back, Seeger and I go in the front. Conner, you watch the perimeter. Everybody’s coms are good?” Everyone nodded. “Okay, let’s get this son of a bitch.”

The group moved almost silently, finally emerging through the trees on the south side of the large lake house. Russ moved in close to Andi, leaning to speak softly in her ear. “Be careful.”

“Always am,” she reassured him, then headed off with Sweets to the back of the house towards the lake.

Several minutes later all hell broke loose. Salazar hadn’t been meeting his mistress at the lake house this time around. He was meeting with his next-in-command, seven of them, and things got ugly.

Russell came into the hallway with Salazar in tow, held between him and Seeger, a bag over the prisoner’s head. Russ was swiping blood out of his eyes from a cut on his forehead, the result of an unfortunate meeting with the butt of a rifle. Three men lay dead or incapacitated behind them, and Seeger raised his gun to take out a fourth as they pushed towards the front door.

Sweets and Andi finished off a couple more men before rushing out the back door and heading around the building, guns at the ready in case any more cartel goons showed up. Her eyes had just landed on Russ’s bleeding face when a shot rang out from a nearby window, and she hit the ground hard. “Andi!” Sweets shouted, firing a shot at their assailant, and Russ stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide as he turned to look.

She raised her hand, groaning in pain, forcing out the words. “M’okay – hit my vest.”

“She’s okay!” Sweets called out, and Russ felt his heart start beating again.

“Conner! You and Seeger get him to the Jeep and let’s get the fuck out of here!” Russ ordered, heading to help Sweets get Andi to her feet. “Goddammit, Andi – can you walk?” he asked, and she nodded, wincing in pain, glad for their assistance as they hurried away from the house. They made it back through the trees and to the Jeeps, Seeger and Conner already backing out with Salazar tied down in the back seat. “Sweets, drive.”

He nodded and climbed behind the wheel, and Russ helped Andi into the back seat, sliding in beside her. “Sure you’re okay?” he asked as they pulled out, and she nodded, still grimacing in pain.

“Fuck, that hurts,” she managed, and he looked down, his frown deepening.

“If your vest took the hit, why are you bleeding?” He worked at the fastenings on her vest, clenching his teeth at her grunt of pain as she helped him remove it. The shoulder of her shirt was dark with blood, and Russ pulled out his knife, slicing from the sleeve to the neck of her shirt, pulling the front down and leaning over her so he could see her injury. She looked down, squeezing her eyes shut as he turned on the overhead light. There was a large splinter of wood embedded deep in her shoulder, right below her collarbone. “Must have caught a ricochet. Shit.”

“Didn’t even feel it until now.”

“We’ll take care of that when we get back to the cabin,” he said, shutting the light off again, putting an arm around her and letting her lean into his side. He pulled the corner of his jacket up and wiped at the blood on his forehead, then let his head drop back against the seat with a shaky sigh. Too close. Too fucking close.

When they finally got back to the cabin, Russ helped Andi get out and turned to Sweets. “You three mount up and take Salazar in, get him locked down. And if you see Ann, you can tell her we’re gonna have a talk about the quality of their intel,” he growled.

The big man nodded, then looked hard at Andi. “I’m good, Sweets. Promise.” He gave her good shoulder a squeeze, then left them to climb into the other Jeep beside their hooded captive. Andi watched them pull away, then turned towards the cabin, ready to get off her feet and find some whiskey.

“Yeah, let’s get you inside, I need to check you out,” Russell said, and she shot him a brave attempt at a smile.

“Always the sweet talker.”

They entered the cabin, and she sank down on the edge of the old sofa, trying like hell not to groan in pain. Russ was already digging through the cabinet for the medical supplies, coming back with a med kit and then heading to the bathroom for a stack of towels. Next was the almost-full bottle of whiskey that sat on the table, and Andi grabbed it from his hand, taking off the lid and lifting it to her lips, taking several swallows.

“Easy, there, hardcore,” Russell said, gently taking the bottle from her. “Need some of that for – uh – medicinal purposes.”

“That’s what I was using it for.” She looked down as he examined the chunk of wood in her shoulder. “Can you get it out?”

“Yeah, it looks pretty solid. Just didn’t want it falling apart, leaving pieces in there to get infected.” His eyes searched hers for a moment before she looked away and nodded.

“Okay, let’s do this. You need some stitches.”

“I’m fine, let’s get this done first. This is gonna have to go.” He took his knife and sliced through the strap to her grey sport bra, pushing the fabric out of the way. His jaw worked as he contemplated the best approach, finally taking out his multi-tool and readying the pliers as Andi grabbed one of the clean towels. “Okay, hold on.” He got a good grip on the wood and pulled, fast and smooth, sending a fresh rush of blood to soak into what was left of Andi’s clothes. She held the towel to the wound, wincing as she put pressure on it. Russ laid the huge splinter aside and looked down at her, dreading what was coming next. “Okay, now comes the fun part.”

She nodded, laying down on the sofa and letting Russell tuck towels around her shoulder. He grabbed the whiskey, reaching out for her to take hold of his left hand. “Ready?” She squeezed his hand in answer, and he poured whiskey into the wound, clenching his teeth as her back arched up in pain, uncontrollable whimpers escaping her lips as she gripped his hand so hard he felt the bones creak. Slowly, she eased back down, her chest heaving as she regained control. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, watching a tear escape the corner of her eye.

“I know – not your fault.” Russ gave her a couple more minutes to recover, then helped her sit up.

“I think we should do a couple of stitches.” She agreed, and he pulled a chair up close, taking care of the stitches quickly with a practiced hand.

She watched his face as he finished bandaging her shoulder, meeting his eyes when he finally looked up. “Thank you, Russ.”

“Yeah, any time. Let’s just not do it again, okay?” He put a hand to her face, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone. She smiled softly, dropping her gaze, and he pulled his hand back. “So – got a clean shirt in your bag?” She nodded, and he stood up, pushing the chair back and reaching for her duffle.

She winced as she tried to remove her ruined shirt, and Russell shook his head. “Here, let me help.” He pulled the bloodied shirt over her head, then slipped a finger under the remaining strap of her bra. “Want this off, too?”

Andi nodded. “Yeah, it’s ruined, anyway.” Russ reached around behind her, his brows bunching with an impatient frown.

“Who invented these fucking things? How the hell are you supposed to get this off?” he grumped, and Andi smiled.

“Just hand me your knife,” she said, taking it from him and slicing through the fabric, letting him help her slip it over her good shoulder and off. He tossed it disdainfully across the room, then turned, his eyes going directly to the large bruise blooming in the middle of her chest and spreading up the inside slope of both breasts.

“Goddammit, Andi,” he swore quietly.

“You’ve gotta stop swearing at me, Russ,” she teased, but he didn’t smile.

“Swearing is caring.”

“That is not how that saying goes.”

“It is for me. When it involves you. What if he would’ve missed your vest? Or had armor-piercing rounds?”

“He didn’t. And I thought we didn’t ‘what if’ after missions. That was always the rule.”

He finally looked up at her, his jaw working a little before he spoke. “You never came that close to being killed before. And you never should have been there, Andi. You should have been safe at home, not in the line of fire.”

Andi rolled her eyes, her temper flaring. “What about all the jobs you do that I don’t even know about? I hardly ever hear from you, Russ. A text here and there, or a random late-night phone call - other than that I’m in the dark all the time. I never know when you’re going on a mission, or if you’re hurt, or dead. I have that hanging over my head every damn day, but you can’t handle one job where you actually got to see the outcome in person, where you got to verify that I’m okay?” The silence still rang with her anger for a few seconds before he answered.

He sighed, guilt in his eyes as he looked away. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

Andi nodded, skepticism clear on her face. “Heard that before.” She closed her eyes for a second, then pulled her clean shirt over her head, letting him help her get the injured arm in the sleeve. “How about we don’t do this right now?”

Russell bit at the inside of his lip, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

Andi rose to her feet, gesturing towards the chair. “Okay, your turn. Sit,” she ordered.

“Kinda bossy when you’re in pain,” Russell grumbled, plopping down on the seat. She ignored him, going to the bathroom and letting the water run until it was warm to wet a washcloth. She grabbed the med kit and set it on the table, then put a hand on top of his head and tilted it back a bit.

“Gotta clean you up a little before we do stitches.” He was drenched in sweat and blood, but – fuck it all – he’d never looked hotter. Those damn gorgeous green eyes of his were staring up at her with a look she couldn’t handle at the moment, so she avoided looking into them as she gently cleaned his face and down his neck where the blood had run down onto his shirt. “You should just take this off. It’s a mess.”

He stripped out of his shirt and she took it from him, dropping it to the table along with the now-filthy washcloth. “How many?” he asked.

Andi tilted her head, examining the cut carefully with one hand. “I think we can get by with four.” He nodded, and she turned to ready the needle.

She turned back to him, pausing for a moment before saying, “Okay, easiest way to do this is…” She straddled his lap, looking into his eyes. “Ready?”

“Yep, go for it,” he answered, his voice low and subdued. He let out a little hiss as the needle first went in, then settled, letting his hands rest on her hips. She took her bottom lip between her teeth as she started the second stitch, and he let out a quiet moan.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Not why... never mind.”

She had finished off the second stitch and was getting ready for the third when he leaned up and nestled his face into her neck. He placed a slow, lingering kiss just below her ear, his breath warm against her skin, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the flush of heat through her body. “You’re making this kinda hard.”

“You’re makin’ it hard, honey,” he said, his voice raspy with want, and Andi dropped her head back with a soft laugh.

“Can you please just be good for a couple more minutes?”

“I can be good for a couple of minutes – after that I’m gonna be great,” he mumbled, still nuzzling at her neck, and she shook her head with a wry smile as he went on, his tone very persuasive. “I’m not bleeding anymore, can’t we just finish this later?”

She sighed in frustration at him, even though she couldn’t keep the smile from teasing at her lips. “No. We need to finish this now. Sit up and behave.”

His hands were smoothing over her hips, giving a little squeeze here and there, but she managed to finally put in the last two stitches, tying off the last one and turning to drop the needle to the table.

As she turned back, he slipped a hand behind her neck and pulled her in for a scorching kiss. She fought it for a moment, her anger still stinging a little, but damn it – she never could resist him. He hummed in approval as she responded, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt. “Can we take this back off?” he asked softly, and she looked into his eyes with a doubtful expression.

“We can, but – it’s so ugly.”

Russ shook his head as he helped her remove her shirt. “No, it’s not ugly. It’s a message. It’s saying, “Fuck you, asshole! You tried to kill me, but I’m still here – and I’ve got a fabulous pair of tits.” A slow grin curved his lips as Andi laughed in spite of herself, and he leaned in to kiss her again, one hand sliding up to gently cradle her breast in his hand, thumb brushing over her nipple. She shivered, her hands roaming up his sides and around to explore the muscled expanse of his back. He nudged his nose against hers, watching her eyes flutter closed as he teased at her, leaning close to whisper, “Bed?”

She opened her eyes and shook her head. “I wanna ride.”

He scraped his teeth over his plump bottom lip and smirked. “Whatever you want, honey.”

She pushed back and rose to her feet, letting him stand up as well as they both shed the rest of their clothes, kicking their boots to the side and out of their way. Russ sat back down, eyes glowing as he watched Andi move close again, reaching his hand between her thighs and groaning as he slipped two fingers up into her silky heat. She pushed down until he was knuckle-deep, lips parting as she let out a shuddering breath. She whispered his name as he stroked his fingers over her sweet spot, her legs beginning to tremble. “Need you now,” she managed, and he pulled his hand back, holding his cock steady as she slowly took him in, hands braced on his shoulders.

“So good,” he groaned as she settled fully on his lap, then leaned forward to kiss him hungrily. His hands wandered over her body, caressing and kneading at her warm skin, his hips rising to meet her as she began to move on top of him.

He loved nothing more than to watch her when she was like this, her body smooth and sinuous as she rode him. She was getting close, and he slipped his fingers down between them to rub her clit, moaning along with her as she squeezed hard around his cock. He wasn’t going to last much longer, either, and he began thrusting his hips, driving in hard and deep, his other hand gripping her hip for leverage.

She went off like a skyrocket, gasping and then crying out as she came, and he didn’t even try to hold back, joining her with a long, low growl. She rode it out, seemingly forever, finally collapsing with a hard shudder into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. They sat there, his arms wrapped around her, for several minutes before she lifted her head, and he captured her lips beneath his for a slow, gentle kiss. He looked into her eyes, a playful sparkle in his. “Goddammit, Andi.”

She tried in vain to completely smother a smile, but it tugged at the corners of her mouth. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Russell’s smile faded slowly, and he leaned his forehead against hers. “I don’t know. But – just don’t give up on me, okay? Don’t you ever give up on me.” She pulled away, putting both hands up to his face, bringing him in close, her whole soul in their kiss, leaving him stunned and speechless for a moment.

“So – where are you off to next?” she asked softly, letting one hand drop to his shoulder as the fingers of the other combed through his beard.

He shrugged, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Not sure. Haven’t heard anything about a new gig, so…”

She ducked her head down, peering up at him until he met her gaze again. “Well, I took the rest of this week off, so I don’t have to be back at work until Monday.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, a smile slowly lighting his face. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know how long this job was gonna take. So – how about spending some time at my place? I have real food, and beer, and a shower with actual water pressure,” she said, tracing his bottom lip with her fingertip, “and really soft sheets.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You hittin’ on me?”

She laughed. “Maybe.”

He grinned, kissing her and landing a playful little swat to her ass. “Well, then, let’s get the hell out of here.”

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[emlovslennon]

me when i actually feel motivated to write again😃😃BUT YEAAAAH HERES SOME MORE SIN FOR YOU GUYS YOURE WELCOME!!

Era: 1964

-

You and John were at the opening for his new book “In His Own Write”, you were over the moon excited for him, but, problem was, he was hardly paying attention to you. He was laughing it up with Paul and whoever else was there with him, George obviously noticed something was up when he tapped you on your arm, which made you jump.

“Hey, y/n, you doing alright?” He asked, genuine concern painted on his face. You couldn’t help but feel gratitude that you had someone like George in your life, he was a great friend and always knew how to comfort you, even when John didn’t.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine, I guess I just feel quite bare sitting here with no one to talk to.” You said, turning to look at John, who wouldn’t even bother to look and see if you’re even still here.

“Well, I’m here, and so is Pattie, if you wanna talk and come over to us.” He offered, Pattie giving you a very warm smile and hand shake. Pattie’s beauty always baffled you, you have never seen somebody so naturally gorgeous as her, it made you feel quite insecure, really. But you obviously knew that wasn’t on her, might be more on John, actually, he’d always talk about blonde bombshells like Bridget Bardot or very dark feminine women like Sophia Loren, it always made you feel less than.

“Goodness, y/n, you look absolutely marvelous! He doesn’t know what he’s missing, I can tell you that for sure.” Pattie said, you decided to wear your favorite black, lace dress with a black shaw to match, you did feel iffy about knowing how tight it was, but you couldn’t help but feel pretty, that on top of the beautiful sparkling, white, necklace you had on as well John had bought you for your second wedding anniversary gift. If only he actually would pay attention to you, it’d be nice.

“I just don’t understand why he’s not even acknowledging me, as soon as we got here he went right over to Paul, letting go of my hand in an instant.” You said, trying not to let this ruin your night. You understood that it was ‘his’ night per say, but you at least deserved some sort of acknowledgment, right?

“Oh, y/n, I know just the trick. This worked perfectly the last time I did it with an ex of mine, just simply, do the same. Enjoy your night and don’t even bother with him, this is your night just as much as his.” Pattie said cheerfully, she always was the one to give the best pep talks. And just that you did, spending the rest of the party talking and hanging out with George and Pattie, and occasionally Ringo and Maureen.

And then, the after party came along, it had to have been around 12:00 or more in the morning, but nobody was letting up. You and Pattie decided to have a few drinks and start dancing to, surprisingly, your husbands music. “Twist and Shout” started to blare and you and Pattie started to do exactly that, dancing the night away. George and Pattie were dancing together gleefully and getting you involved whenever they could. That was, until Paul walked over to you, him and Jane were on a “break” so he said. So he all by himself, explains why he was with John and Brian basically the whole night.

“Hey, love! Where have you been? Me and John have been looking everywhere for you!” He said, practically yelling over the loud music.

“Oh, I was with George and Pattie, what’s wrong?” You said, John coming up behind Paul shortly after.

“Nothin-“ Paul was quickly shut down by John as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“Fuck, love, you had me so worried, I thought you left without me, come on, we’re going home.” He said, as you basically pushed through a crowd of people and got into your car.

“John, why are we leaving? What is wrong?” You asked, John didn’t say a word. One hand was on the wheel, the other was clutched to your thigh. You had absolutely no idea what his deal was.

“John, if I made you mad I’m sorry but it just felt like you weren’t paying att-“

“As soon as we get inside that house I want you upstairs and ready for me. I couldn’t be around you because of that fucking dress, I wouldn’t be able to control myself. Go on, now.” He demanded. You made sure as soon as he parked into the driveway you ran inside the house and went into your shared bedroom, quickly taking off your shaw and dress, along with your Mary Jane heels. You then made your way to your white, satin bed and slowly got underneath the sheets, waiting for him. Your heart race increased in anticipation as you heard him up the stairs, and heard the bedroom door open. And there stood John, his blazer gone to god knows where and his white button up unbuttoned. You couldn’t have asked for a better sight, if you’re gonna be honest, this is probably the best way to be repaid after being ignored the entire night.

“Come on, now, don’t start hiding from me.” He said as he quickly ripped the covers off your body, being completely exposed.

“There’s my pretty girl.” He cooed, making you blush. He was always a sweetheart when he wanted to be.

“John, I-“ you began to speak, but your mouth shut out of complete embarrassment. You were extremely nervous when it came to asking for what you want in bed.

“Hm? What was that, doll? You want something? What do you want, hm?” He teased, his fingers caressing your thighs, you knew you had to just let it out, but it was so hard for you and never understood why.

“I-um, I want you to turn me around this time.” You whispered, John gave a devious grin and took no time flipping you over, getting you on your hands and knees.

“Like this, birdie? You want me to be a little rough with you, dolly? Huh?” He said as he gave a harsh slap to your ass, making you gasp and jump in surprise. John giggled darkly at your reaction and began to un-do his pants, until he was completely naked.

“I’ve thought about you like this, y/n. You being all obedient for me, I love it. You’re such a good girl for me, a fucking dirty girl too.” He was such a good dirty talker, it made you begin to whimper and try to get any kind of friction you could get. John started to get the memo and didn’t even spend time to get you prepared by any sort of foreplay and just began to thrust himself inside you, not giving no time to adjust.

“AH, John!” You screamed as he pounded into you, his hand immediately coming to yank at your hair.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me, cunts so fucking tight for me.” He grunted, his voice deeper then ever. It turned you on like never before, how just an hour ago you were being completely neglected by him and now, here you are, getting pounded into the mattress by your husband. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t worth it.

“J-john, w-wait! Slow down!” You cried out, John immediately stopped and pulled out.

“What, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He panted, you shook your head and turned to lay on your back.

“I guess I just missed seeing your face.” You said, out of breath and voice strained from moaning and yelling.

“Ahh, atta girl.” He replied as he pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss as he thrusts back into, slower this time, just in case.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n, can’t imagine life without you.” He praised, as he kissed your face and neck, you smiled as you sighed happily, but not before turning into soft moans as he began to slowly pick up his pace.

“John, f-faster, I want to go faster, please.” You moaned out as John began to go harder, the obscene noises coming from your core filling the room.

“I love the sounds you make, christ, all fucking mine.” He groans, going as fast as he can at this point. Sweat is beginning to form on his forehead and body, same with you, as you continued to moan and cry out for him.

“John, I-I-“ you screamed out as you came all over him without warning, John just gave you a heartfelt smile and kissed your forehead.

“Fuck, I’m so close, I’m gonna fucking cum.” He moans out, you felt so overstimulated but you just couldn’t complain as long as you were making him feel good.

After about two more thrusts, he comes inside of you with a loud groan. He pulls out slowly and goes to grab towels for you to clean you up.

“There you are.” He chuckles as puts the towels in the wash and comes back to lay down with you as you slowly return to reality.

“John, I love you. But, do you promise you love me just as much as I love you?” You whisper, John kisses your lips and head in response.

“Y/n, I can promise you I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, it’ll stay that away. I can promise you that. I love you.” He assures, that was all you needed to drift you off into a deep, loving sleep.

-

OKAYYYY WOOOOO THERES A LONG ONE FOR ONCE WHOOP WHOOP I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED I HAD FUN WRITING THIS ONE I HOPE MY “SPICE” HAS IMPROVED!!!

[loriannbowman]

Honkai Star Rail X Arknights | Yandere!Sunday X Sankta!Reader | Part Five

Sunday continues to explain the many intricacies of Penacony, its history, its people, and its works. He speaks so quickly that you're honestly left in the dust. Why is he speaking so quickly? Is he in a rush?

"-And the Dreamjolt Troupe's origins begin with-"

"Um... Mr. Sunday? Is there a reason for all... this? You seem to be in a hurry. If you need to get going somewhere, I don't mind waitin-"

"No," he says curtly. "I'm not in a rush to go anywhere, don't worry. I apologize if I've been speaking too quickly for you, honest, I just have so much to share about our wonderful home," he smiles.

I only have half an hour left to spend with you and learn everything I can... I don't have time to dally.

"It's alright, I guess. I'm just a little slow when so much is happening at one time, it's nothing to do with you. Everything you've said so far - from what I was able to remember - is very cool! I'd love to go look around this 'dream.' I just wonder how much time has passed..."

Sunday smiles innocently, his eyes creasing with crow's feet. No one will know the cold sweat that drips down the back of his neck. Although he spoke much of the Dreamscape, the Reverie, of Penacony and its history, he refused to speak of the hours of operation. If he does, you'll have to wake up, and he doesn't want to acknowledge such an end.

A Sweet Dream Should Never End.

"Shall we go and explore Golden Hour? Or would you enjoy Blue Hour? Twilight? Dawn?"

You look at him in surprise. Weren't you under arrest for supposed 'infiltration and trespassing'? Why would he suddenly let you go look at the city? You physically shake your head. It's best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Um... Golden Hour is just fine, I guess. It's the closest, and I don't want to trouble you with a long walk."

Sunday smiles once again, a look of faint satisfaction graces his thin lips. He stands from his seat and offers you his hand. His whole body seems to glow with light. You raise your hand and grasp his, the glove is cool with an underlying heat from his palm.

"Let's go. Oh, and make sure to look inconspicuous. We still don't want the citizens to be knowledgeable of a stowaway," Sunday coos with a light chuckle.

~~~~~

As you and Sunday walk around Golden Hour, your eyes are so bright. Amazing things that can only exist in a dream are right before your eyes. Floating ice creams, walking signs, fountains of sparkling drink, pinball transportation, cars that run on music! Everything was so bright and colourful, you wish all the other operators at Rhodes Island could see all this! You could only imagine how Grey or Shaw or even Hibiscus would react to all these sights and sounds. Its all so beautiful, you could temporarily forget about the pains of Oripathy that plagues your thoughts every single waking day.

Sunday watched with a sweet smile. His heart flutters at every little reaction you have. It's so... endearing. You're just like child in a candy store. You are sweet like a pot of golden honey. You are a treasure - a treasure he wants to keep all to himself.

No matter how much he wants to focus on you, the ever ticking clock continues to pass by in the back of his mind. Every single second plagued his mind as it is birthed, lived, and died.

15 minutes...

10 minutes...

5 minutes...

3 minutes...

Sunday quickly turns to you, grabbing your hands in his, pressing them firmly against his chest. You can faintly feel the heartbeat underneath his coat.

"Lamplight, how are you feeling?"

You spirit was so high, you body felt like it would combust from how much you buzzed.

"Amazing! This is all so fantastic!"

2 minutes...

"You like it that much?"

"Yes!"

"Would you ever like to come again? Or maybe stay as a resident for a while?"

"If I had the choice or opportunity, maybe... but I still have much to do, much to accomplish back home..."

1 minute...

"I see. Well, are you satisfied with Penacony as it is? As a head of the family, I can make changes as you see fit. I just hope we can meet again."

"Nah, everything's fine. But... why does it sound like you're saying goodbye?"

Sunday now is the one to shrug his shoulders. He continues to hold you hands, staring at you with solemn eyes. Oh how he wished time would just freeze in place, to keep this memory alive.

3...

2...

1...

Several of the citizens wake up, and several others come into the dreamscape. Your time was up. You should wake up from this sweet dream and eventually forget about this as all but a dream.

But you didn't

You didn't wake up. You're body was still... asleep? No, something might be wrong.

Sunday's expression was a mixture of confusion and relief.

"Mr. Sunday? Is something troubling you?"

Sunday, unsure of what's happening, but thankful for this blessing, begins to smile, eyes wide with excitment.

"No, nothing at all."

~~~~~

"Doctor!" Amiya calls out, barging into the Doctor's office.

"Yes?"

"Lamplight! They... They're comatosed!"

@sarcastic-cookie

[knickynoo]

Back to the Future Part III, The Novel by Craig Shaw Gardner: Thoughts, commentary, and general ramblings

Part 2: Doc tells Marty to kill a man

• Something interesting in the novel is that, after Marty finds Doc’s tombstone in the cemetery, he doesn’t go straight to yelling for Doc like in the movie. Instead, he actually stops to consider if he should say anything at all—on account of Doc always warning him not to share too much information about the future. Strikes me as un-Marty quite frankly. That’s not something he’d stop to have second thoughts about.

• After Doc reads the tombstone and panics a bit, he expresses his confusion over who Clara is. Marty suggests that she might be a girlfriend, and this reply “—seemed to upset Doc even more than the gravestone.”

And although it takes away from the seriousness of the overall situation, I do find it kind of hilarious. Yeah, whatever, shot in the Old West. A GIRLFRIEND??! The horror! I love Doc.

• I really do like the novelizations because of all the little, unnecessary extra info they offer. For instance, we find out that Doc and Marty are able to access all the newspapers and documents in the City Hall Archives so late at night because Doc is friends with the night watchman named Charlie. The two of them have a shared love for the Old West, so Doc is able to talk him into letting him and Marty in. It’s not important to know this, but I like knowing it. I want to know more about night watchman Charlie and what he and Doc talk about.

• They discover the photo of Doc at the clock tower and it says, “Doc felt a sinking feeling inside his Hawaiian shirt.” Fantastic line.

• Doc briefly considers what might happen if he himself went to 1885 to rescue his older self but decides it’s much too risky. And now I can’t stop imagining a version of Part III where 1955 Doc tags along for that week in the Old West. What would that have looked like?? I’m fascinated by this concept now.

• I like this exchange:

“Hey, Doc,” he asked, “you think I’ll get a chance to ride a horse? I used to ride at summer camp. I was pretty good, too.”

Doc smiled at that. “I don’t see why not.”

• I am just now realizing that this book uses single apostrophes for when people are speaking. This must be another U.K. thing since that’s where this book was printed. Was tickled by the spelling of “maneuver” as “manoeuvre” before.

• Hey, there’s a hug at the drive in just before Marty takes off for 1885! No fair!! The movie just gives us that moment where Doc sets his hand on Marty’s shoulder and wishes him luck. Bogus.

• Okay, so, Doc also gives Marty a little speech that begins with “I know I’ve cautioned you about interfering in events of the past—” and THEN he says that if something goes wrong and he still ends up being shot, he wants Marty to “—get that son of a bitch who does it.”

HELLO?? That certainly changes the tone of Marty’s send-off now doesn’t it? Doc straight up telling Marty to avenge him. Alternate version of Part III where Doc still dies and Marty follows 1955 Doc’s wish and spends the rest of his life in the Old West trying to track down and take out Buford.

• Marty sees the grizzly bear and the book says, “’Yaaaah!’ Marty remarked.” And idk, “remarked” is a funny choice for someone screaming in terror.

• Instead of immediately tumbling down that little cliffside and landing unconscious on the McFly Farm, Marty actually walks through their land a bit. In fact, it’s noted that he walks very carefully through the rows of green plants, afraid of accidentally squashing anything. That is SO Marty. Just ran for his life from a bear, is tired and afraid, but still so polite and considerate of the crops he knows are important to someone. He’s such a darling.

• “He squinted at the smaller of the two buildings, the one with the smaller door, fit to let humans in and out, rather than that place with the big doors for wagons and farm animals. That meant that this was the farmhouse, the other building the barn. Marty was very proud he had figured this out.”

Amazing news, everyone. My darling boy is also BRILLIANT.

• Unfortunately, Marty only has like 2 seconds to be proud of himself because he falls down the cliff two sentences later. In fact, he's so locked in on the farmhouse and barn that he just doesn’t register the fact that the ground suddenly ends a few feet ahead of him.

• As Marty lies there, rapidly succumbing to his most recent head injury, he thinks, “It was nice, being on his back. It meant he didn’t have to walk anymore. Maybe he should close his eyes. Maybe he would never have to walk again.”

…y’all, I think he’s DYING.

And we’ll leave it there for now. We get Seamus and Maggie next!

[cellarspider]

12/30 Things come to a head

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to that shambling mass of a film, Prometheus.

Content warnings for body horror, contagion-y stuff, something that loosely be described as medical horror, It’s Been 0 Days Since Our Last Incident, and me, going on a ramble about movie gore to distract myself from The Madness.

There's a lady in this scene who's had a number of speaking lines so far–the maybe-chemist. She has a name, but it doesn’t matter.

But I'm going to call her Doctor Frankenstein.

They have just got the helmet off the head, revealing that it’s truly, unmistakably humanoid. They have noted that there are “new cells” on the head. In the business, we call that “decomposition”, but Doctor Frankenstein is not concerned with this. In fact, she immediately proposes a new plan.

Doctor Frankenstein has had the brilliant idea to plug a big cable into the head like it’s a guitar amp, and zap it with electricity to wake it up.

Yes. This is what the movie goes with.

You know, Alien included a similarly shambolic first examination of an alien subject, but it was performed because said alien was attached to a man’s face, and all they had to try and fix that was the contents of a cargo ship’s medbay, with the only qualified personnel being the corporate android who had been ordered to consider the crew expendable. The crew of the Prometheus has no such excuse.

Well, except for David, he has precisely the same excuse, but he’s not trying to poke wires in anybody’s ears.

Doctor Frankenstein calls for enough amperage to run three electric kettles (cite 3), then all the way up to two Titan RTX graphics cards before the head starts to get what appears to be a massive migraine. 

I know this expression well, migraines can feel very much like someone is subjecting me to unnatural horrors.

This is getting a little extreme, though. Yes, when the head starts pulsing, they realize they may have made a mistake. 

I’d say this was inexplicable behavior on their part, unbelievably hasty and foolish–and I will say it, actually, it deserves to be said. But in context, this is the team that did so little prep for entering the alien structure that they didn’t notice the giant fuckoff skull carved into the outside of it.

Knowing how much Shaw and Holloway read into the intentions of the Engineers from the depictions they found on Earth, they probably would’ve interpreted this as a good sign, somehow.

Anyway, they put a sneezeguard down over the head before it explodes.

Good job everyone. This is like what would’ve happened if Napoleon’s savants took one look at the Rosetta Stone and decided “maybe we should try hitting it with hammers. Surely that’ll make the knowledge fall out.”

From a horror perspective, this scene only works in two contexts: First, gross-out. Generally found in schlock, exploitation, and outsider art flicks, the tone of gross-out content can be highly variable, but there are two general trends I'd mention, which are of relevance to this movie.

First, gross-out tends to exist in that weird alternate space where lots of comedy movies do: characters will behave in unreasonable ways for no apparent reason. Within the film, this is treated as the universal norm, besides maybe a straight man character who highlights the absurdity. Gross-out is often like that, but pushes different boundaries of acceptable behavior than a traditional comedy.

This is, bafflingly, what Prometheus increasingly feels like. It feels like it's transitioning into gross-out schlock, and yet it never goes all the way.

Second: the audience for gross-out is largely self-selecting. If you're watching John Waters' Pink Flamingos, you expect things to get messy. You are looking forward to things getting messy. A head exploding is perfectly par for the course in gross-out horror. One might even be disappointed if there wasn't an exploding head.

But again, this movie was not marketed on gross-out. It was marketed as a tense, Alien-esque horror movie. If you followed that premise like I did, you're not in the theater to view a debauched spectacle, you're there for the movie to put a well-paced squeeze on the characters and your nerves, where half the horror comes from having the room to really think about how frightening the core concepts of the series are.

Does Alien involve some shocking gore? Sure does! But in Alien, Kane's fate is not there to make you laugh and exclaim "ewww!" at how far the film's gone, the film tries to make you very aware of how horrifying his demise is.

So, there's an alternate way this scene works, if you're coming in from that perspective. I don't think the movie intended this as much as the gross-out, but it's what I drew from it at the time: the scene works if you decide not to focus your sympathies on the human characters at all, or even David, and think about it from the perspective of the head. 

It’s patently impossible that what they did actually “woke up” the brain inside that skull. But if we sink to the movie’s level and entertain the idea for a moment, what in the hell have they just done to this Engineer? The last thing the head would’ve remembered was running, falling, decapitation, and then this. They just tortured this poor bastard for no adequately explained reason. There’s none! “I think we can trick the nervous system into thinking it's still alive” is the entirety of the explanation. It makes about as much sense and seems as thoughtlessly violent as anything in Mad God (2021, content warning for body horror). 

I already spent all my anger about desecrating bodies in the name of shambolic pseudoscience, I have no more rage to give for now. And similarly in the theater, I hit my limit. I’d already hit a different limit back when they landed the Prometheus on top of some archaeology, but now I’d fully given up on this movie being what I’d hoped it would be. 

The maddening thing that keeps me obsessed with it is that it keeps throwing random scraps of that hypothetical movie into the mix anyway, bouncing me like a yo-yo between scenes. 

But for right now, the yo-yo is still on the descent. Having exploded the first sample of alien biology ever touched by science, they apparently stuck some of it in a generic, science-y DNA machine. What does the DNA machine tell them? 

“DNA match”. 

The movie does not actually explain what this means. It thinks it does, but in a very vague and handwave-y way that ends up being even more hilarious than if they’d just been out-and-out wrong. Because this is what I do for a living, I want to science at this for a bit. 

But I’ve written enough about it for an entire post on its own, so that will wait until next time.

⛬ 

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬ 

Citations for alt-text rambles, as well as some text-text rambles:

1. https://www.behance.net/gallery/78297841/Semiotic-Standard (contains a high-quality download for the symbols, should ye wish them for yourselves)

2. https://www.sculpturedepot.net/clay-wax-tools/product.asp?Steel_Tools 

3. Doctor Frankenstein calls for 30 amps first, then 40, then 50 in the space of several seconds. According to wikipedia, an electric kettle is about 16.6A, and a 288W high-performance graphics card would require 24A. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orders_of_magnitude_(current) That graphics card isn’t mentioned by name, but it matches up with the wattage reported by Tom’s Hardware for a Titan RTX (cite 4). Running with two of these things, you might be able to run 4k Ultra settings on some games without tanking your framerate. They could’ve been playing video games and seen way more exploding heads.

4. https://www.tomshardware.com/features/graphics-card-power-consumption-tested 

5. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alien_(film)#Design

6. https://www.reddit.com/r/MovieDetails/comments/f4rf63/for_the_chestburster_scene_in_alien_1979_the/

7. https://i.pinimg.com/736x/8e/2f/9b/8e2f9b0716746aac7ce5b2f369bf4082--aliens--scene.jpg

8. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karyotype#Human_karyogram 

9. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centromere 

10. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centromere#Telocentric 

11. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G_banding 

12. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proteinogenic_amino_acid 

13. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hula_language

[trekmupf]

The Court Room Drama AU ⚖️

Pro

Great episode to show important parts of Kirk's character

he really is affected by any death under his command and cares for his people deeply

he's really trying his best with Jamie and stays kind to her throughout

The way Kirk refuses to let the others in the bar be vague about what's going on and wants them to be direct and honest, just like he tends to be (unless it's for a ruse); instead of escalating the situation he leaves

he holds onto his beliefs not only ethically but in himself as well – he knows what he did and sticks to the truth instead of taking an easy way out, even though the situation seems hopeless

The first time we see how decorated Kirk is within Starfleet- really one of the fleets finest. Also the way Cogley frames Kirk's decorations is so well done.

When he takes the stand he is 100% sure of his actions and himself. We know that Kirk admits mistakes when he makes them, and this instance isn't one of them

Shaw in context of being Kirk's ex confirms again that he really likes smart and independent women and respects them, even after a relationship ended

Kirk has good knowledge of engineering as well

Shatner's acting in the episode is really great – he can do these subtle emotions and Kirk's character so well

Also the fact that his crew trusts him, each in their own way, and know that he wouldn't do this. 100% ride or die crew

McCoy making it clear that he stands behind Jim from the first scene with Shaw onwards; Also Bones' southern charm gets me every time

Shaw is a great character: she's much more than just an ex, she has her own believes and goals and is competent at her job; also the tension between her and Kirk rising because of her duty to her position as prosecutor, when their relationship itself as exes is fine

Actually this is how I imagine Kirk being with ex partners, very nice, lovely and amicable.

Cogley is a great character as well: very adhd smart guy vibes, initially strange but when the hearing starts he goes off and is so competent and passionate!

Proper intro of the dress uniforms! (honorary mention of Kirk's slutty wrap top, of course)

Spock and Bones serving during the hearing in said uniforms, absolute kings. Everyone looks so good in this episode.

Even though said before Spock's defence of Kirk deserves it's own point. His argument is so vulcan and suits him so well, and his trust in Kirk as a person doesn't waiver for a second during the entire episode

The same goes for McCoy (also DeForest's voice during the courtroom scene is VERY nice)

Finney is another one of Kirk's nemesis, I mean how many nemesis can one guy have, Kirk is literally the ultimate ex no one gets over (looking at Movie 2)

This episode shows once again that Starfleet isn't as cleancut as it seems and has problems – Stone offering Kirk a way out when fully believing that he made that mistake and killing Finney is questionable at best

Great episode for further world building: we learn more about Starfleet itself (it's actually the first time the name is dropped), we meet other crews, other ships get named and we get some backstory about Kirk

Even though we have multiple sets this was supposed to be a bottle episode and it shows. Set mostly on a starbase (unlike most episodes that are about new planets), the characters are in focus

Great commentary made from a 60s perspective but still relevant today: the “infallible” machine vs the fellable human. We have three people vouching for Kirk's character in court vs one video and one computer log. The people get immediatly questioned whereas the computer is factual until Spock's proves it's wrong. The idea that mashines and computers make less or no mistakes compared to people is still relevant, see the whole debate about self driving cars.

Also Cogley's speech about human rights and machines not having those rights works really well in the context (will get interesting in TNG)

Generally the acting and interaction of all characters really hold the narrative until the twist in the end

Despite the serious subject the interpersonal moments and the way Cogley works provide some tension relief

I just love the way Spock sits in the captains chair here. No notes.

Con

Jamie can be exhausting

Shaw as an ex shouldn't work this case (even though she's shown as 100% professional and capable)

I know why it's done for the narrative but resolving this serious situation with a fistfight is wild

Counter

Kirk shirt rip (I mean this is the rippiest shirt so far)

Technically Evil AI (as the concept of computers gets explored)

Quote

If I let go of a hammer on a planet that has a positive gravity, I need not see it fall to know that it has in fact fallen. - Spock, believing in Kirk

"Mr Spock, you're the most cold-blooded man I've ever known" "Why, thank you, doctor" -Bones & Spock

Moment

Spock's, McCoy's and Kirk's testimonies

Summary

A great character driven episode that focusses on Kirk as both a person and a captain as well as his relationships with the other characters. The interesting question of computers being fallible as well as a personal betrayal while Kirk's future is on the line make for a good and gripping narrative.

Previous Episode - Next Episode - All TOS Reviews

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 3

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 one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: *Deep breaths* Are you ready? 😉

Word Count: 4.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Russell, perilous situations, violence, character death, and another (literal) cliffhanger…

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 3: "Timer Starts Now"

As he drove away from the museum, Colter could see it even more clearly. 

“You like her,” he said, giving his older brother a smile. 

Russell glanced at him, then rolled his eyes. 

“Focus on the road,” he said. 

“Just admit it. You like her,” Colter smirked. “And the fact that she called you for help isn’t a coincidence.”

Russell made a sound of annoyance and shook his head. At this point, he knew Colter wasn’t going to drop the subject.

“All right, we went out on one date,” Russell held up a finger. “It was fun, but we agreed that I’m just not relationship material.”

Colter sobered at that, at the wry tone of his voice. It sounded like Russell liked you even more than he was willing to admit.

“Do you have a timeline on that brewery?” Colter asked.

Russell chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, I’m just a few dollars short on that one.”

He stared out the window for a while, but he eventually turned back to his brother.

“She called me because her brother’s a vet. Because I know what it’s like to deal with the assimilation process, coming back to civilian life. Trying to figure out where you belong, you know?” he said.

“You think you’ve assimilated?” Colter asked.

Russell shrugged. “Best I know how, anyway.”

“You can’t really call yourself a civilian though, can you?” Colter pointed out. 

Russell shot him a look. “Yeah well, neither can you, Colt.”

That created a kind of tension in the car. A call from Bobby, Colter’s analyst, mercifully broke the silence. He’d gotten some useful information on Eddie Mendez, the man Charlie was supposedly working with, or for.

“Well, he’s not the most upstanding citizen,” Bobby said. “He’s a cocaine dealer by trade. Other fun items on his rap sheet include illegal gun possession, theft, and domestic violence.”

“All right, thanks, Bobby,” Colter said.

Great, Russell shook his head. Just what had your brother gotten himself into?

They were getting closer to the bar, and it mentally brought him back to his date with you.

Okay, maybe he did like you. But he also respected and understood your reasons for cutting things short that night. Usually, he was okay with being in a new town every other week, the occasional one-night stands, the skeevy motel rooms and the fast food. It was all with a goal in mind, and that made the hustle easier.

He’d started to wonder though, what it would be like to set down roots somewhere. Doug made it work with his wife and still did his contract work, even if there were some major pros and cons to that too…

Russell was only broken out of his thoughts when he got a call himself, from Dory. He answered it and held the phone to his ear.

“Hey, D. What’s up?” he asked.

“Russell, something’s wrong,” she said. Her voice was panicked.

He frowned, his brows furrowing. “What? What happened?”

The more he listened, the more his eyes widened in shock. He looked to his brother.

“Colter, turn around. Now.”

Russell and Colter arrived back at your house, where Dory was parked out front. She came out of the safety of her car when she saw them. Russell got to her first. He laid a hand on her shoulder in the driveway.

“What happened?” he asked. 

She tearfully explained that she found your purse in the bushes, but your phone was missing. She had just picked up your call when it suddenly cut off. 

“But I heard her scream,” Dory said, with a stifled breath.

Russell’s mood darkened in response, and the longer he took in the scene. He looked over at Colter, who also wore a frown. 

The tracker examined your car and driveway first. Already he found signs of struggle. He noticed a couple pieces of dark glass on the pavement, and when he scrutinized his surroundings further, he picked your broken phone out of the grass. The screen was cracked beyond repair.

Next, he climbed the three short steps of the porch, up to the front door of the house. There were marks on the doorknob, likely scratched by a key. He spotted the Ring Camera next.

Good. He took it right off the wall.  

“Do you have her keys there?” he asked his sister. Dory handed them to him and he let himself in. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

The three of them entered your house and found it dark and empty. Colter switched the lights on and got to work, after going back to grab his laptop from the car.

Russell stayed with his sister on the couch, a supportive hand on her back. He tried to shove his anger and upset deeper below the surface.

Meanwhile, Colter had Bobby retrieve the data from the camera. Within a few minutes, he sent Colter a video file, which Colter then played on his laptop. The three of them watched you approach the door.

Someone with a man’s build grabbed you from behind, wearing dark clothes and a mask that obscured his face. You screamed and tried to fight, but the man dragged you away as you struggled.

Russell’s frown deepened as his body tensed with anger again, his jaw ticking as it clenched. And then came the self-loathing.

Rookie fucking move. Should’ve made sure she got home safe, he thought. Better yet, should’ve kept her with me.

Dory covered her trembling mouth and dissolved into tears. Russell tucked her against his side, rubbing her arm. Colter laid a hand on her shoulder as well, but he continued to analyze the footage. He couldn’t make out the attacker’s face with the mask he was wearing, but Colter saw a blue sedan in the background. It peeled off after you were hauled off-screen.  

“Why would they take her? What the hell is Charlie into?” Dory said. She sniffled and wiped at her face.

“To keep her quiet after she started digging into his disappearance, possibly. Or for leverage against him,” Colter said, leveling her with honesty. “Someone doesn’t want us to find Charlie. I’m betting it’s whoever he’s working for.”

He thought it was safer if he didn’t tell his sister exactly who Charlie’s employer was.  

Dory shook her head in worry. “We need to call the police.”

Colter shared a grim look with his brother. He knew Russell understood the score here. 

“If we get the police involved, it’s at least a 50% chance that whoever has her and Charlie…will kill both of them,” Colter said. Dory sucked in a trembling breath. 

“Our best bet is to keep digging,” Colter said.

“Let’s go,” Russell said, nodding at him. He stood, parting from his sister with a hand squeezing her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Dory asked. She got up to her feet along with her brothers.

“Howley’s. It’s our only lead on Charlie’s employer,” Colter replied. 

“Okay, but wait—” Dory reached out for Russell’s arm. It was a reflex as she tried to wrap her mind around all of this. 

Russell grasped her shoulders gently enough, but he made sure she saw the sense of urgency in his eyes.

“We don’t have time,” he said. “From here on out, every second counts.” 

After a beat, Dory nodded in acceptance. She let go of his jacket. 

“Okay, keep me updated.”

“Will do,” he said, and he swiftly followed Colter out the door.

The brothers drove in silence to the bar. Colter noted his brother’s tension, and the grim set to his jaw. 

“Hey,” Colter said, earning Russell’s attention. Colter gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her. We’ll find both of them.”

Russell exhaled. “Yeah.”  

Oh, he knew he’d find you eventually, and your brother. He just didn’t want to think about how he might find you.

Once they got back to Howley’s, they started by questioning the bartender about Eddie Mendez. 

“He’s not here. But that’s a couple of his friends over there,” the bartender said. He pointed them in the direction of a couple of guys drinking near the back. Three of them were sitting at a table playing cards. 

Russell recognized two of them. One was the same guy who made the mistake of hassling you by the pool table. He’d gotten a bloody nose for his trouble. Russell smirked at the memory. 

“Pete, make a fucking move already,” said one of the guy’s buddies.

Russell caught it as he and Colter approached them. This time, Pete seemed at least somewhat sober, even with his second beer in hand. Another bottle sat empty beside his arm.

“Hey, fellas,” Russell greeted the table. “Little Blackjack, little booze. Looks like a good night you’re having.”

“Do I know you?” Pete asked. His face showed a spark of recognition when he took in Russell. 

“Well, you’re about to. We’re looking for one of your friends, Eddie,” he replied. 

Pete set his beer down on the table. Predictably, he crossed his arms and closed up.

“I don’t know no Eddie.”

Russell resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I realize it’s hard for you, but don’t be dumb. Eddie Mendez,” he pressed. 

Pete glanced at his friends, then he stood from the table, drawing himself to his full height. He was a bit bigger than Russell, but a beer gut wasn’t everything.  

Russell seized up the man in front of him with an almost lazy grin. By contrast, his eyes were sharp, betraying his true thoughts. 

“Now remember. Whatever you start, I’m gonna damn well finish,” he said. 

That sure ignited Pete’s memory. He seemed to be remembering your smaller fist nearly breaking his nose. His face fell with an angry frown. Russell smirked.

Colter laid a warning hand on his brother’s arm.

“We’re not looking for trouble. We’re just trying to find someone Eddie might know. Charlie,” Colter said. “Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t,” Pete claimed.  

“Like you didn’t know Eddie?” Colter replied, raising a brow. “Where can we find him?”

“Now you are looking for trouble,” Pete spat. “Fuck off, Timberlake.”

Just then, Colter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw a text from Dory, asking for an update. He ignored the message for now and put his phone away.

Hearing a commotion, he quickly looked up in time to realize that Russell had wrangled Pete into a stronghold with his arm behind his back and had slammed him onto the table. Drinks and bottles rattled and spilled; playing cards fell to the floor. Pete’s friends got up with angry, threatening gaits.

“I think you can point us in the right direction before I break this meaty arm of yours. How about that?” Russell said. 

“Hey! No fighting!” the bartender called from the front. “Take that shit outside.”

Colter internally sighed, but he’d have to roll with this, even though this wasn’t how he’d wanted to play it. 

“I wouldn’t test him,” Colter advised. “That’s gonna be a bad break. You got good health insurance, Pete? You’ll probably need surgery, expensive bills, a little physical therapy, a few months of recovery time.”

Pete seemed to weigh Colter’s logic, albeit with an angry huff. He waved off his friends and caught his breath while pinned against the table. 

“I can’t talk to you,” he said. “I’ll get myself killed.”

“I’d worry more about your odds right now, Pete,” Russell said. He tightened his twisted hold on the man’s arm, earning a strangled sound of pain. 

Colter weighed the options here in record time, and he came to a decision. He grasped Russell’s arm firmly.

“Let him go,” he said.  

Russell gave him a look of disbelief. “Colt?”

Colter implored him with his eyes. Trust me.

After a few more seconds, Russell’s lips pursed, but he let the guy go. 

“Ah, fuck,” Pete muttered. After he was able to straighten up, he rubbed his aching arm and shot them both a red-faced glare. 

Colter steered his brother out of the bar before a real fight could break out. He knew it’d become a bloody mess, and they didn’t have time for a night stay in a county jail cell this time.  

“You better have a damn plan,” Russell whispered, as they neared the front doors of the bar.

“You know I do,” Colter replied.

They later sat in his truck while it was still turned off. Just waiting in silence.

A few minutes went by before the back doors of the bar opened to Pete and his gaggle of delinquent friends. As Colter suspected, one of them made a call. It lasted no more than a couple of minutes. Then, they piled into Pete’s car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Colter started up his own car, and he followed them.

You were led into what sounded like a warehouse. You couldn’t know for sure with this musty bag over your head and your wrists bound together with zip ties, but you clenched your teeth and tried to stop sniffling. Your fear made your heart pump fast and loud in your ears.

Voices echoed around you, arguing, yelling about shipments. You were shoved hard to the ground, and you gasped, instinctively throwing your hands out when your knees hit the hard cement. 

“No…” 

That voice was all too familiar. 

The bag was finally ripped off your head, the edge of it catching in your frizzy hair. You blinked wearily at the florescent lights above, and you wiped at your tears and smudged mascara. Your breath left your lungs when you saw your brother, Charlie. 

He was tied to a chair, shirtless and shoeless, beaten and bloody. Some parts of his skin even looked burned. His jeans remained, at least. But his face was hard to look at. His left eye was swollen, his lip split, his cheek cut and bloody. Both his eyes were red-rimmed, and he was sweaty and dirty, as if they’d been keeping him down here like an animal. He looked thinner too.

He stared back at you in dismay, your name falling from his lips.

You tried to scramble over to him, but someone grabbed you by the hair and yanked you back. You cried out in pain.

“Eddie stop! Don’t hurt her!” he shouted. He drew enough strength to pull at his restraints. Your hands reached back on reflex to grasp at the hand holding your hair. 

“No, you did this,” Eddie said. He clicked the safety off his handgun and pointed the barrel at your head, right between the eyes. You gasped and froze where you sat. 

“You couldn’t make it easy, huh? Well now, I’m making it real simple for you,” he continued. “Even more simple, now that we cut out the middleman.”

Eddie gestured to what looked like a woven potato sack laid behind Charlie’s chair, but really, that was just part of it. As your eyes scanned over, you saw the narrow shoulders of a man with a familiar dark blue blazer. It was stained red with a bloody hole carved through the back. Your breath stilled in your lungs.

Eddie glanced over at you, his lips curving. He walked over to the dead body, turned it over with his boot, and dragged off the potato sack to reveal the lifeless blue eyes of Dr. Feinman.

Your eyes widened.

You let out a blood-curdling scream that startled a pigeon out of the warehouse, from where it had been perching on a high support ledge. You leaned back on your bound hands, but you could go no further as one of Eddie’s men grabbed your shoulder, pinning you on the ground. His annoyed face told you to shut the fuck up.

Charlie grimaced and turned his face from the sight of the body. Both shame and hate filled his eyes when Eddie bent down to face him.

“Tell me where you hid the goddamn weapons,” he demanded.

Your lips trembled as new tears brimmed over and streamed down your cheeks. You’d suspected the truth, but it was different from being faced with the reality. Charlie was the one who stole from the museum. He’d likely been doing a lot worse for the past few months. And somehow, Feinman had gotten in between. He’d also paid the price.

Your brother saw your disappointment, and he accepted it. But lacking an answer, Eddie pistol whipped you in the face, earning a pained cry from you as you fell back onto the ground. You had to blink the stars out of your eyes.

After his shock wore off, Charlie’s face hardened with fury.

“Oh, don’t give me that fucking face,” Eddie said. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, startling another sharp breath from you. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, what I did to you’ll be child’s play, compared to what I’m gonna do to her. And you’re going to watch.”

Against your will, tears filled your eyes while you stared at your brother. You were terrified, and Charlie knew it. He was scared too, but he also knew then what he had to do.

“I buried them,” he admitted. 

“You buried them?” Eddie repeated. He brushed back his dark hair with the same hand that held his gun. “Ain’t that ironic. All right, where did you bury them?”

“In the national forest, less than an hour out,” Charlie replied. “But you won’t find it without me.” 

Eddie shook his head on a sigh. “Of fucking course.”

He gestured to his men waiting nearby. He wordlessly gave them the order to untie your brother. 

“All right, Charlie. Let’s go for a drive,” he said, and gave you a sleazy smile. “You too, sweetheart.”

He hauled you up onto your feet and kept you close to him, with a hand like a vice around your arm. God, you hated a sweethearting man.

You held your breath. You could only pray that Dory had noticed you were missing…and that Russell and Colter could find you before it was too late.

Please…

It was still dark out, but the sky was beginning to lighten when Colter pulled to the side of the road. The car they followed had stopped in front of a warehouse near an industrial downtown area. Colter spotted the blue sedan from the Ring Camera footage. It was parked out front. 

With a shared nod of understanding, Colter and Russell climbed out of the truck and took the time to arm themselves properly before scoping out the warehouse.

“What does a drug cartel want with museum artifacts?” Russell remarked as they were gearing up. “That’s still not adding up for me.”

“It is odd, but maybe the idea came from Charlie,” Colter said. “He had access. Maybe he saw it as a way to buy their trust.”

“Okay, then what went wrong? Why’d they take her?” Russell replied. “I don’t know, man. Something feels off here.”

Colter nodded in agreement. “We don’t have all the pieces yet.”

But they were about to get them. They moved closer to the warehouse, with Russell heading towards a side door and Colter going around the back. They saw a few men crowded around a TV in the corner of the warehouse. Behind them were crates upon crates of what surely was product. Probably tens of thousands worth of coke.

Jesus, Russell thought. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, but still. This was a serious operation.

Colter caught sight of a lone chair under a bright corner of the room. It was stained with sweat and blood, and some cut ropes hung from the seat. He alerted Russell to the scene with a subtle gesture of his raised gun. Russell’s face turned grim. He nodded minimally, then pointed with his eyes at the group of unsuspecting men. The brothers drew in closer.

Russell fired a shot directly into the TV screen, making it crash onto the ground. The men startled like rats, but they soon faced Russell and Colter’s guns. When one of them reached for the gun tucked in their pants, Colter aimed directly at him.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Colter warned. 

“Where’s Charlie?” Russell demanded. “And his sister.”

He aimed his .45 caliber M1911 at their friend Pete, who had Cheeto stains on his shirt. 

“How about you, Pete. You finally wanna share with the class, before I blow your fucking face off?!” Russell shouted. 

The depths of his voice reverberated widely in the warehouse. It set the tone for things to come, if he didn’t get some cooperation.

Pete shifted on his feet, betraying his nerves. His forehead was starting to sweat too. 

“They’re not here,” he admitted. “They left a while ago.”

Russell flexed his finger over the trigger of his gun. 

“Tell me where,” he said.

Eddie wasn’t exactly an outdoorsy kind of guy. He kicked his boot against a tree while leaning against it.

“Fucking rock in my shoe,” he muttered angrily.

He was getting more and more frustrated with the uneven terrain (and the mosquitos) the longer the five of you trekked onwards: including you, Charlie, Eddie, and two of his men, Rick and Kevin. Both of them had guns trained on your back and Charlie’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said quietly to you.

You shook your head. Disappointment didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling as you looked at him, but at least they’d given him a shirt to cover his beaten torso. His face wasn't so lucky.

He righted you when you struggled on the gravel and loose dirt in your ankle boots. Your hands were still tied together too.

“What the hell happened to you?” you asked, as you caught your breath. 

“I needed the money,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t an excuse. “I was his bodyguard.”

“He’s a drug dealer,” you snapped. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“He was my dealer,” he admitted, though his gaze was heavy. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, but…a few weeks after I left rehab, I slipped. I never really did quit. Just got better at hiding it.” 

You let out a sharp breath, and tried to blink past your tears. Another disappointment, another heartbreak for the books.

“But when he offered me a job to pay off what I owed, he wanted insurance that I’d stick around. To prove myself,” Charlie explained. “He came up with the idea to rob the museum.”

“Why was Dr. Feinman involved? Did he find out?” you asked.

Charlie nodded with a sigh. “He caught me the first time I tried to steal the artifacts. I…I lied. Told him we planned to sell them. So instead of turning me in, he wanted to be cut into the deal.”

“What? Why?” you said. Your former boss was many things—a stuffy, self-important man chief among them—but you’d never taken him for a thief.

Charlie gave you a wry look. “Owed his second wife up to his eyeballs. Alimony’s a real bitch.”

You shook your head. That explained why Charlie hadn’t yet been a suspect in the theft. Feinman had probably helped cover Charlie’s tracks. But whatever shortcomings Feinman had, he hadn’t deserved to die like that. A shudder went through your body, remembering his lifeless eyes. You breathed out slowly and tried to rid yourself of the nightmarish image. You managed to push past that to ask your next question.

“And who chose the Native American weapons?”

Charlie’s lips pursed. He glanced over his shoulder. “He did. Thought they looked cool.”

Eddie smirked and waved his gun at him, spurring you both onward. Charlie kept walking and turned his attention back to you. 

“The way I figured it, the museum shouldn’t have them anyway.” 

Your lips pursed at that. You sort of saw his point there, however convoluted his justification, but putting those artifacts in the hands of a drug dealer was even worse.

“And this is so much better for them,” you said pointedly. 

“That’s why I couldn’t go through with it. Tried to get out of the whole damn mess,” he said. “I know what you would’ve said to me. And I knew if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes.”

Your tears welled up again, when you saw the sincerity of his gaze.

“Okay, this touching little scene is making my balls itch,” Eddie said. He grabbed Charlie’s shoulder and turned him around. “Where the fuck are we going? If you’re trying to pull something smart here, Charlie, I promise you, you’re gonna regret it.”

He cocked the safety back on his gun and pointed it at Charlie’s chest. Charlie raised slow, placating hands.

“It’s just a little further,” he promised. 

“If you’re giving me the runaround—” Eddie started.

“Then what? Without me, you’ll never find it,” Charlie barked back. 

Eddie’s face tightened, and he pointed the gun at you instead. You sucked in a breath.

Charlie quickly held up his bound hands again in surrender. After a beat of tension, he pointed up when he heard rushing water. 

“Hear that?” he said. “I buried it on a cliff near a waterfall. We’re getting close.”

Another stretch of silence filled the clearing. 

Eddie weighed Charlie’s words. When he was mollified enough, he lowered his gun away from you. At his command, Rick and Kevin kept you and your brother moving. 

Charlie glanced to his right side. He realized that you all were walking near the edge of a steep hill that careened downward. Taking in a breath to center himself, he turned to you.

“I love you, you know that?” he whispered.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but you found the look in his eyes suspicious. Like he was saying goodbye. 

That was when he swiftly turned. He snapped the heel of his hand into Kevin's throat and grabbed his gun while he was choking. Charlie shot him in the chest, then he clipped Rick in the shoulder. 

Just as Eddie began to raise his own weapon, Charlie met your look of shock with his own determination. 

He pushed you down the hill.

AN: I know, I know. Two cliffhangers in a row is cruel, but I promise we're getting to even more fun action and cathartic moments in Part 4! 😘

Next Time:

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

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[sylvia-forest]

[CN] Shaw's Target Locked Date

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

[Released Date: 1 May 2024]

[Section 1]

MC: Slow down! I'm so full.

Shaw: Tsk, who was the one claiming they were 'starving to death' and bragging they could eat a whole cow and a whole pig before we left?

Shaw's exam week finally ended. After eating and drinking our fill on the commercial street, we walked home together.

Although he said this, his steps still slowed down.

MC: I just didn't perform well today and ate a bit too quickly, otherwise I would have... Shaw: Otherwise what?

Shaw took my hand and put it in his pocket.

Shaw: The thing about rabbits is that they have big eyes and small mouths. They want to eat everything, but they can't get enough. Shaw: Fortunately, I ate more than half of it, saving them from a life of wandering in the trash can.

As he spoke, he raised his eyebrows and a proud smile appeared on his face.

MC: Since when do you like doing 'good deeds'? If you want to eat with me, just say so directly instead of beating around the bush.

The winter afternoon sun was just right. When we passed by the small park near our home, we saw that it had been beautifully decorated with a vibrant array of festive flowers, freshly planted.

MC: That place looks so beautiful. Since there's nothing to do at home, let's walk a bit more.

Shaw: Sure, I found that being overly full has some benefits. MC: Hm? Shaw: Doesn't this increase your motivation to exercise?

After that, he pinched my cheek and pulled me towards the park.

There weren't many people in the park. Although the trees and plants were not as lush as in spring and summer, the cypress and holly landscaping complemented each other, preventing the scene from appearing monotonous.

Colorful decorations were hanging from the street lamps on both sides. Shaw and I followed the fitness trail all the way to the flower bed in the center of the park.

The festive flowers were in full bloom. Just as I was about to take out my phone to take pictures, a rustling sound accompanied by a meowing noise caught my attention.

A long-haired tabby cat was pawing at the flower bed, with some snack crumbs beside it.

Seeing me approach, it raised its tail high, bared its teeth, and growled, as if in a defensive stance.

Shaw: This cat is quite fierce, a bit like some people when they're angry. MC: ……. MC: Some people really accuse others before they even do anything wrong.

Seeing that we weren't getting any closer, the tabby cat started eating the remaining food again, occasionally looking up to keep an eye on us.

MC: We just packed some tuna sashimi earlier. Shall we give it some? Shaw: Sure, let it celebrate the new year too.

As he spoke, he opened the bag he had just brought back from the restaurant, took out two pieces of fish and placed them not far from the flower bed.

Shaw: Go ahead and eat. But remember, if you take food, you shouldn't be mean. Shaw: Don't be aggressive with that silly rabbit after eating.

Shaw stepped back a few steps after placing the food, but the tabby cat still seemed wary of us and was unmoved by the tempting food.

I had to step forward, pick up a piece of fish, and place it closer to the cat, using a common trick for attracting cats—

MC: Kitty~

This time, the tabby cat seemed to smell the fish. After cautiously approaching to confirm it was food, it swiftly moved closer.

Shaw: Heh, this cat is quite…

Before Shaw finished speaking, the next second, the tabby cat grabbed the fish in its mouth and ran off into the bushes.

Shaw: So rude.

—

[Section 2]

Shaw: Are you feeling better? MC: I'm fine. I feel much better after taking the medicine.

I took the warm water that Shaw handed me and collapsed onto the sofa.

After we got back yesterday, my stomach felt uncomfortable. Although Shaw seemed fine, I still suspect it might have something to do with the big meal we had.

MC: Do you think it could be that the sashimi from yesterday wasn't fresh?

Shaw: Isn't it more likely that the ice cream we had after the meal is to blame? Shaw: Besides, you were looking at flowers and feeding cats along the way, so maybe you got a cold in the park.

MC: That possibility can't be ruled out. But if it wasn't the ice cream...

Something suddenly occurred to me.

MC: The cat in the park also ate the sashimi. Do you think it also got a stomach ache?

Shaw: You just got better and now you're worried about the cat?

MC: If it really was the sashimi, I'd feel quite sorry for it. Being a stray and having a stomachache... that's even more pitiful.

Shaw: …Alright, let's go check on it. And we can also settle the score for it running off yesterday.

Shaw and I brought some cat food and went to the park to look for the cat.

We searched around the flower bed and the nearby bushes, but there was no sign of the cat.

MC: Could it be that we just happened to meet him yesterday?

Shaw: Why are you in such a hurry?

He motioned for me to be quiet. Once there was silence, the faint sound of a cat's meow reignited my hope.

The sound seemed to be coming from near the rock garden not far away. Shaw and I exchanged a glance and with a mutual understanding, we lightened our steps and slowly approached it.

When we made our way around to the back of the rock garden, we saw a tortoiseshell cat crouched by the edge of the weeds.

Shaw: Tsk, it's not that one. MC: …But since we've come across it, let's give it some cat food anyway.

I just took out a small bowl to pour some cat food when a fierce meow came from the side.

Immediately, a familiar small figure leapt over and stood in front of the tortoiseshell cat.

The tabby cat growled at us, looking quite protective and formidable.

MC: .......This scene seems a bit familiar.

Shaw: Are these two a pair? Is there no such thing as a single cat in the cat world?

Shaw's words brought a smile to my face , and I couldn't help but think that the cats we met together were indeed a pair.

The fierce mountain king couple, plus Big Fat and Little Mimi from the neighborhood.

[T/N]: The first one is from his Great Conductor Date and as for the other one unfortunately I forgot to post this pet date (⁠●⁠_⁠_⁠●⁠)

Although this tabby cat doesn't look as strong as the mountain king, its temperament is indeed somewhat similar.

Seeing that we weren't scared off, the tabby cat's growls became even fiercer.

Shaw: It's quite energetic. I think it's in very good condition. MC: It's a relief that it's feeling fine. We can finally relax.

Seeing that the tabby cat seemed perfectly fine, I gently pulled Shaw back a few steps.

Maybe because it saw us retreating, the tabby cat hissed a couple more times, but the next second, it got a few swats from the tortoiseshell cat, immediately losing its earlier bravado.

Shaw: Oh, there's always something that can keep something else in check. Shaw: This female cat looks weak, but is actually much more ferocious than the male cat. Shaw: But it’s quite perceptive, knowing we're good people. MC: It probably saw that we brought cat food. They must be hungry.

The tortoiseshell cat meowed at me twice. When I looked closely, I noticed its belly was somewhat swollen, possibly because it's expecting kittens.

Meanwhile, the tabby cat had also quieted down and nuzzled against the tortoiseshell cat.

Shaw snorted, looking like he couldn't bear to watch, and stepped aside to give me space.

I poured some cat food into a small bowl, and together with Shaw, we placed the bowl a bit farther away.

After seeing us walking away a little, the two cats started to eat food.

While the tabby cat had just been swatted, it showed no sign of anger at all, and even let the tortoiseshell cat eat first.

Seeing the two cats in such a harmonious scene, I couldn't help but glance at Shaw.

His usually careless face also had a smile on the corner of his mouth.

MC: Although this tabby cat is a bit fierce, he still loves his girlfriend very much. He won’t hit or scold her back. MC: Isn’t that right, Shaw?

I intentionally raised my voice, infusing a subtle emphasis into the way I pronounced his name, conveying a hidden meaning.

Shaw: This is called 'the big cat has a big heart'.

Seeing him looking so pleased with himself, I angrily waved my fists at him. But the moment my fist was about to land, Shaw swiftly grabbed it in his palm.

Shaw: Is it necessary to use violence if you can't say it? MC: Now I believe its greatest strength lies in its brevity.

Seeing Shaw about to say something, I pretended to use my other hand to cover his mouth, but he agilely dodged it.

Shaw: Save your energy. I'm still skilled enough to handle your clumsy kung Fu moves.

—

[Section 3]

On our way back, it started to snow lightly.

I didn't expect the snow to get heavier after we got home from lunch. I was just scrolling through my phone when a notification popped up from the municipal department, informing us of something.

MC: The city will experience cold weather tonight, with a risk of icy roads. All units and individuals are advised to take necessary precautions to stay warm and safe.

Looking at the snowflakes falling more and more outside the window, I couldn't help but worry about the two cats in the park.

The mother cat was expecting kittens. I wonder if she can make it through.

MC: Why don't we bring some warm items for the cat? That rock garden is exposed to the wind from all sides...

Before I could even finished speaking, Shaw emerged from the bedroom fully dressed and walked swiftly to the entryway in a few strides.

I was stunned for a moment, but he had already put on his shoes and was leaning against the wall, smiling at me.

MC: Huh? Where are you going?

Shaw: The park. Aren't you worried? Let's go check them out. MC: Are you clairvoyant? How did you show up right when I was mumbling? Shaw: I'm clairvoyant. If you keep staring into the distance, you'll turn into an ice sculpture. Do you think I can't guess what you're thinking? Shaw: Put on your gloves and let's go.

When we arrived at the park with the blanket, we found that the tortoiseshell mother cat wasn't in good condition. Though it took some effort, we successfully brought both cats to the hospital.

Since the mother cat was a bit weak, the doctor recommended keeping her under observation. The tabby cat was fine, so after getting vaccinated, we temporarily took it to our home.

But I didn’t expect——————

Shaw: Don't run!

The sofa cushions were scattered messily on the floor, the tissue box on the coffee table was scratched up, and next to the overturned teacup was a trail of cat paw prints damp with water.

We followed the wet paw prints to the kitchen, where a paw sticking out from behind the curtain revealed the culprit's hiding spot.

Shaw put on an apron, tossed me a pair of kitchen gloves, and then moved forward to pull back the curtain. Together, we cornered the tabby cat against the wall.

Realizing it had nowhere to escape, the tabby cat let out a low growl, making a final stand.

MC: Little kitty, you can't keep wrecking the house...

I tried to soothe it as I bent down and reached out to pick it up, but that gave it the perfect opportunity.

The tabby cat suddenly made a dash, trying to escape between Shaw's and my legs.

Shaw: Where to run!

Shaw reacted quickly, grabbing the tabby cat by the scruff of its neck and putting it back into the carrier.

Although the place was a mess, half an hour of battling wits and nerves had left us both exhausted.

I leaned closer to Shaw, and he raised his arms and hugged me directly.

MC: Fortunately, you are here, otherwise the whole house would be turned upside down.

Shaw: It’s quite clever. We tried to change its cushion to make it more comfortable, and it took the opportunity to escape.

At this moment, though confined in the carrier, the tabby cat still hadn’t given up its resistance.

It kept pawing at the carrier, trying to push open the door with its paws. After several unsuccessful attempts, it switched to vocalizing its dissatisfaction at us.

First he growled a few words, and then there was an angry "meow, meow, meow, meow".

Cat: Meow! Meow! Meow%meow&! Meow meow meow! Meow meow meow meow!

Shaw: Although I don’t understand it, this guy must have scolded me quite unpleasantly.

MC: ......I feel so too.

Seeing that it wasn’t stopping, I decided to use food to try to calm it down.

MC: Maybe eating something will help.

I got up to fetch some cat food and carefully placed it inside the carrier using a bottle cap.

The tabby cat sniffed it but wasn’t moved, and even growled at me twice.

Shaw sprang up from the sofa, took a few strides to the carrier, and leaned down to stare at the tabby cat.

Shaw: Hey, don't blame me for responding to violence with violence.

Sensing Shaw's "aura of intimidation," the tabby cat turned its head away and let out two low meows.

But then, there was a series of familiar "meow meow meow meow".

MC: What should we do? We can't let it continue to scream like this.

I was a little helpless, but Shaw raised his eyebrows slightly and turned his head, looking confident.

Shaw: Don’t you have an online meeting later? Shaw: You go first and I'll take care of it.

—

[Section 4]

By the time I got to the living room after the meeting, the mess had been sorted out.

The tabby cat was released and was now lying in a corner of the living room. From the next room, I could hear Shaw’s intermittent voice where he was making a phone call.

Although I don't know how Shaw "solved" it, seeing that it didn't look as fierce as before, I felt a little relieved and walked slowly to the flight box.

MC: Don’t you like this cat food?

Seeing that the cat food I put in just now showed no sign of being touched, I planned to open a can for it first and wait for Shaw to finish the call before asking for details.

I took the opened can and put it in front of the tabby cat, but it was still unmoved after smelling it just like before.

I persistently shook the can of food in front of it, but the tabby cat just twitched its ears.

Shaw: Why do I get the bad attitude from you, while you’re so gentle with these little guys? Playing favorites?

Shaw poked his head out of the room and curled his lips.

MC: You finished your call? Why did you let it out? Aren't you afraid it’ll wreck the house again? Shaw: Of course it's because it's solved.

Shaw walked over to me and picked up the tabby cat from the floor.

Shaw: I've trained it well, if you don't believe it, look at it.

Shaw held the cat's hind legs with one hand, supported its chest with the other, and handed it over to me.

MC: Be careful, don't let it scratch you. Shaw: Its arrogance has long disappeared. Isn't it submissive now? Shaw: Now it's on my side of the battle. MC: Phew, then I’m even more “scared”!

Seeing Shaw mischievously lift the cat again, I instinctively closed my eyes and laughed, pretending to surrender with raised hands.

Although the cat moved a bit instinctively, as Shaw said, there was no sign of violence or retaliation. It even yawned.

Its previously fierce appearance now seemed somewhat cute and endearing.

The afternoon sun shines through the window and onto Shaw's body, creating a warm glow.

Compared to the scene of battling wits just now, the current moment of harmony between the person and a cat seems particularly peaceful and idyllic.

MC: He's so well-behaved and quite cute. Shaw: The biggest hero without exaggeration, should we praise it? MC: Don't you know your prowess extends beyond this? It's too early for praises. Shaw: You've got quite the foresight, well noted.

He put the cat down, turned around and placed the can in front of it.

The tabby cat sniffed around, glanced at Shaw, then leisurely started eating.

Shaw: Mission accomplished. MC: Wow, you are quite capable! Just now, it refused to eat no matter how much I fed it. MC: Looks like you've gained quite a bit of experience from Mountain King and Little Flower. Shaw: It's okay, mainly because of good understanding.

As he spoke, Shaw raised his hand and touched the tabby cat head. Looking at the cat's obedient appearance, I couldn't help but be curious.

MC: How to train it well? Can you teach me too~

Shaw: Teach you? What is the reward? Shaw: This is top secret. I'll have to see if it's a good deal and then tell you. MC: What do you want in return? Shaw: Look at you. Shaw: But you should know that I like to be paid sincerely.

Shaw casually shrugged his shoulders, then slightly leaned forward, a mischievous gleam in his narrow eyes.

With the sudden closeness, I already had a good idea of what was coming, but seeing his determined look, I didn't want to be led by him.

MC: …….. Shaw: While I'm in a good mood now, if you ask later, the reward will be doubled.

Knowing he always follows through on his word, despite feeling a bit annoyed, curiosity got the best of me. After some hesitation, I pecked at his cheek.

MC: .......Is this reward enough? Shaw: Not bad, I guess there's some sincerity in it.

The corners of Shaw's lips raised, not hiding the bright smile in his eyes.

He immediately took out his mobile phone and clicked on the video file inside.

The purring sound came through, and in the video, the tortoiseshell cat was being well taken care of, sleeping on a soft cushion, even comfortably changing its position.

It turned out that he asked someone from the hospital to take a video of the female cat.

Perhaps hearing a familiar voice, the tabby cat also came over.

Shaw handed me the phone, and the tabby cat ran over to my arms, even rubbing against me in a friendly manner.

Shaw: This guy, whoever has his girlfriend in their hands, he'll cozy up to them.

Watching the peacefully sleeping cat in the video, I replayed it again.

Shaw: Scroll down, there are several more. Shaw: Just now I asked the doctor for some new ones, but I haven't had time to see them yet.

In the next video, the tortoiseshell cat had already woken up from its nap. It watched as the doctor approached with a cat treat, mewling softly.

Shaw mischievously reached out to block it, but to everyone's surprise, the tabby cat actually followed his hand, as if inviting Shaw to pet its head.

Seeing the helplessness and a little disgust on his face, I couldn't help but laugh.

MC: Actually, its temper is quite good. It's probably only aggressive towards us because of its girlfriend. Shaw: How long has it been since they last saw each other? And it's already like this. Shaw: I thought it had some kind of fierce temperament, but it turns out it's just a lovesick fellow. MC: Lovesick? MC: ......Okay, I get it now. MC: So, some people haven't seen each other for a few days during exam week. I found out that their phone screens have my photo on them, and they call me every day— MC: Could it be they're trying to cure lovesickness?

Thinking about how eager he looked when talking about rewards earlier, I deliberately elongated my tone.

Seemingly caught off guard by my remark, Shaw paused for a moment, then slowly uttered a response.

Shaw: That's different. MC: What's the difference? Shaw: I'm much more handsome than him.

—

🐈 Call

[thefirstknife]

Ishtar updated so some stuff is on there finally. Didn't want to spam with too many huge posts with just walls of text.

Absolutely losing it about Chivalric Fire seasonal sword. We finally have a canon reason for ornaments from each vendor. It's becuse they argue what the weapon should look like.

"It should be elegant," says Zavala, striking his breastplate with a fist.

Shaxx isn't having it:

Shaxx's firm gesture of denial drives the side of his hand into a shelf. An Omolon-branded canister falls off and rolls across the floor. "It must be an unstoppable force in sword form! It should spit fire! Also, it should be red."

And then Drifter:

"No, no," the Drifter says from the doorway. He kicks the rolling canister away without looking down. "I'm a law-abiding citizen. I pay my taxes. You can trust me. It needs to look mean. You want people thinking: 'They're madder, badder, and hungrier than me. I'm not tangling with them.'"

I'm losing it over him emphasising that he's a law-abiding citizen. It makes him least likely to be a law-abiding citizen. Then poor Banshee is like can you guys settle on a single design and they continue arguing. Absolutely incredible.

A lot of people already posted about the exotic sparrow Nostos. It's about Eramis reminiscing about her wife Athrys and their children and thinking where she might be now. And then she just basically more or less decides to go to them:

It was the same map that Eramis's mate, Athrys, had followed out of Sol. It even included the habitable zones she'd tabbed as potential landing sites. By now, Athrys might be Kell of her own settlement, living happily alongside their grown hatchlings. Or they might all be long-dead. In truth, Eramis hadn't wondered at either possibility for decades. But ever since she saw the Witness disappear into its portal, Eramis could think of little else. All her prior aspirations were made suddenly small. Eliksni solidarity, revenge against the Traveler, enmity with the Humans… they were all irrelevant. If a second Whirlwind was her fate, Eramis would suffer it as she had the first: with Athrys by her side.

Btw, "nostos" is a theme in Ancient Greek stories, about a hero heroically returning home.

Gloaming Journeyer has also been posted by pretty much everyone. It's about Drifter and Eris sharing an incredibly tender moment and finding peace with each other. Just read it.

Wyrmguard seasonal arm piece has a devastating update on Shaw Han's lore in which it is revealed that the Ahamkara exotic he wears is what he made a wish to. He wanted to have his own fireteam. At the end, he gets a call from "Caster-3" aka Cas, one of the members of his fireteam (alongside Maeve) that ended up dying to Navota. The backfire of a wish. Man.

And one more funny for the end, for Dragon's Breath. A return of Marcus Ren and Enoch Bast! They're doing fine and they're being dumbasses together with their friend, Ariadne Gris. Ariadne might be familiar to people who remember obscure lore from the vanilla sparrow lore Dinas Emrys in which Ariadne was called to the Vanguard to explain why she has a dragon symbol painted on her sparrow. She was being suspected of having an Ahamkara. Ikora found this whole thing ridiculous and Ariadne defended herself by saying a dragon painted on a sparrow was "cool."

And she's back at it again in Dragon's Breath, offended that it's called Dragon's Breath but not having a dragon painted on it. Enoch and Marcus then get a deal with her: she'll race her sparrow against the speed of the rocket. What happens next will shock you. Also, important:

Enoch says. At his side, Marcus studies the case.

Not beating the allegations that they're partners.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Wedding Invitations (2)

Summary: Colter Shaw x Fe!Reader -> You and Colter have known each other since you were 15. He was there to help you once, and he's here to help you now.

Disclaimer: This is Part Two. Fluff, maybe some light swearing. Mostly just cute fluff, with the added addition of some slightly annoying family members.

“Reenie,” Colter’s voice came out a little shocked as he held up the suit in front of him. “It’s tailored.”

Reenie smiled on the other end of the phone. “You’re welcome.”

“How is it tailored?”

“Relax, James Bond. I have a video, remember? I sent it to Bobby and he used his magic and got your measurements.”

“What video-” Then Colter remembered. “Please delete that.”

“I don’t think so. You’re very…appealing to the eye, shall we say. But the look of shock on your face…I think I might make it my screen saver.”

“Please don’t.”

“Just make sure to get to the venue on time.”

“I will.”

And he did. 

However, it just took him a little longer to actually find his date. 

But once he spotted you, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. 

You stood, dressed in the bridesmaid’s gown you’d been given, in the corner talking - or rather, being interrogated – to one of your aunt’s. 

But Colter’s breath knocked him out for a few seconds. He’d seen you dressed up before. He’s seen you…like this before. But something just felt…different. 

“But, honey, if he doesn’t show, what am I meant to say? That my niece got jilted at the altar and is now making up dates? Do you know how that would look?”

“There is more to me than being engaged,” you replied. 

Colter smiled. 

You frequently kept in contact with each other and over the last couple of months, you seemed happier. Certain things you’d remember when you were with Jonathan and you’d, slightly, be thankful that you were no longer together. 

Now, you could bake whenever you liked in the kitchen, not having to be worried if it would upset his sense of smell. You could finally finish TV shows you’d been dying to watch, without fear of spoilers or someone getting bored and switching it over. You could also finally decorate your bedroom how you liked. Of course, you liked it how it was. But the small things, like the colour of the throws, and pillows, and the way you organised your clothes. It could be…you. 

When certain events came around, it hurt. Like what was meant to be your wedding day. The entire day you just walked around a garden centre looking at plants until you grew hungry and went to get a pizza. 

You even managed to go on a couple of dates. 

They never lasted longer than a month or so, but it was nice to have the feeling of moving on. 

Until you got cornered by your aunt, interrogating you over your relationship status and if you had in fact made up your date for the evening. 

Thankfully, luck was on your side because just as she was about to point out the list of pros a relationship can provide, Colter came up behind you. 

And your aunt fell silent. 

At first she was shocked. The fact that you did, in fact, have a date and it just so happened to be a man that looked like Colter was the first part. Then she smiled. 

“My goodness, didn’t you strike lucky with this one,” your aunt said, talking to you. 

Until you felt Colter’s hand on your arm. “I did.”

You smiled and leaned a little into Colter, silently revelling in your aunt’s shock at his answer, rather than yours. 

“Please, excuse us.”

You walked Colter away from your aunt before she could quite literally jump on him. 

“Thank you for coming, nice tux by the way.”

“Reenie.”

“Figured. She does know a good tailor.”

“What was that back there?”

“My aunt? Oh, yeah, apparently being a tenured history professor doesn’t live up to the same standing as being a married tenured history professor with a kid on the way.”

“Shouldn’t they be more focused on, I don’t know, your happiness?”

You nodded. “Most of them are, but there’s just the odd few who don’t realise how deep they’re actually digging their knives.”

Colter studied you for a moment. “Are you okay?”

You looked up at him. “It’s been a long day.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“I have been up since four am, I feel like I’ve been poked, prodded, burned, scratched and pinched on every surface of my body. God only knows how Ida is feeling, and she’s the bride. I just hope they start the wedding soon because my feet are killing me.”

You lowered your hand to meet your raised ankle, to rub at it for a moment. 

“Don’t you wear heels for work?” 

You nodded. “I do. But they’re broken in. These are not.”

“But I thought-”

“Last minute change.” You quickly explained. “Either way, I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

“No need. I was in the area.”

“How was the case?”

“Quick, easy. Stolen car. The husband reported it missing, but it turned out his mistress had stolen it because he still hadn’t left his wife.”

“Wow.”

“I was there when they had the argument. Got heated, let me tell you that.”

An hour later, the ceremony started and Colter’s eyes rarely left you. People laughed and cried during the speeches and you couldn’t have looked happier for the couple. However, the minute it was over you found Colter before he could find you in the sea of wedding guests. 

And for the next forty minutes whilst the new bride and groom shared some alone time surveying their venue, yourself and Colter found two seats at the back of the hallway. 

From your purse you pulled out a small pile of plasters. 

“Here, let me.” 

Colter tore some of them open whilst you angled your foot to place them on the growing hot spots. However, just as you placed your feet down on the ground, thankful to feel the flat floor, your aunts seemed to have jumped out from the corner beside Colter. 

And you were both subject to different questions until they finally opened up the doors to the dining hall. 

“Thank god, I’m starving.”

Colter managed to get yourself and him around the crowd to find your seats. You’d been placed at table four with a couple of the other bridesmaids and their partners. 

For most of the night, it ran smoothly. You ate, drank, danced. All in all it was a fun evening. You listened to the different speeches made by the parents and new in-laws. 

However, when couples were dragged onto the dancefloor, you were fully prepared to sit that section out. Until Colter reappeared from the gents toilets, just past the bar, and lowered his hand to you. 

“Colter…”

“It’s just dancing.”

It took you a moment before you placed your hand in his and allowed him to pull you towards the dancefloor. 

Holding you in his arms, his hand enveloped yours by his chest whilst his other hand remained securely on your back, your own hands in his and on his shoulder. 

For a while, you both danced. Slowly, holding each other closer. Until Colter shocked you by dipping you slowly with the song. 

And you smiled. 

And so did he. 

Bringing you back to your feet, he spun you close to his body before pulling you back in. 

“I don’t know if I’ve said this already, but thank you. For coming, I mean.”

Colter smiled, leaning down. “You never have to thank me for coming to you.”

“I do mean it, though.” You told him. “I could have made up an excuse or found someone else. You didn’t have to say yes, and you did, and I’m…glad. Thank you.”

“Do you have anything else to do? For the wedding?”

You shook your head. “Not unless Ida needs to go to the bathroom.”

“Can’t the other girls help her?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Want to get out of here?”

Usually, you would have said ‘no’, but something changed when you looked at Colter. So, you replied. 

“Yes. But let me say goodbye, first.”

Colter nodded, letting you go for a moment whilst you walked around the dance floor to where Ida was standing by her table, finding her drink. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Ida smiled as she looked over your shoulder and back to you.

After that, you grabbed your bag and found your hand in Colter’s as you both made your way out and away from the wedding. 

Colter helped you into the passenger seat of his truck, closing your door for you. By the time he got into the driver’s seat, you already had one of your heels off. 

It wasn’t long before Colter was pulling up alongside his home, and grabbing the small bag of groceries from the back whilst you hooked your heels through your fingers, hitched up your dress and carried the pizza box inside. 

Shutting the door behind you, Colter came back out from his home and took the box from you before helping you up the stairs. 

By the time he closed the door behind him, you were already pulling the pizza box open as you sat down by the table. 

“So they just had one delivered to the classroom?”

You nodded. “Yep. It was the final day and they did share, so I let them off with a warning. It’s fun to have cake delivered to the classroom, but it’s also not school policy to have food delivered during class time.”

“Sounds like I missed a party.”

You laughed before taking a bite of your pizza. 

It wasn’t long before you found yourself snooping around Colter’s place, leaving him sitting at the table, watching your every move. 

“You have a mug from every state? Hey, wait a minute.”

Colter hung his head to cover the smile creeping up on his face before he looked back at you. He tried his best to remain guiltless, but you could practically smell it on him. 

“This is my mug.”

“Is it?”

“This is my mug that has been missing for three months.”

“Three months? Sure you didn’t just leave it at work?”

“This is my mug that you stole-”

“Stole?” Colter asked. “You should have set up a reward.”

“-from my home.” You gasped a little, trying to hide your smile. “Oh, Colter. I never pegged you for a thief.”

“Finders keepers, I say.”

“Oh,” you said, your eyes never leaving Colter as he stood and walked closer to you. “The Rewardist is calling finders keepers now, is he?”

“I believe he is. Considering you never set up a reward.”

“Because I thought I lost it.”

“Oh, well in that case.” Colter plucked the mug from your hands before placing it back on the shelf in pride of place. “It’s still lost.”

“Oh, really?”

He shut the door. “Really.”

However, when Colter looked back at you, you felt something shift. It felt silent in the camper. Too silent. And yet somehow, too loud. You were suddenly aware of your own breath, trying to find a way to keep it controlled in order to avoid suspicion until you noticed Colter seemed to be, albeit more subtly than you, doing the same thing. 

However, just as you felt yourself leaning in a little and seeing Colter doing the same, it was like something pulled you back into reality. 

Cleaning your throat, you placed your gaze anywhere else. Or, at least, the very least, you tried. Every other second, your eyes flashed back to him as you both leaned against the counter and dared not look at each other. 

“I better-”

“Yeah.”

However, despite that awkwardness passing when Colter jumped into the shower and you had full access to snoop. You found a picture of himself, his brother and his sister. By the looks of it, his mom had made them all pose for it. And it didn’t look like it was that long ago.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“This your brother?”

Colter paused for a moment. “Maybe. Why?”

“He’s hot.”

Colter tried his best to hide his groan. “Please don’t tell him that. It’ll only inflate his ego.”

You chuckled softly. “Relax, Colt. It’ll just be our little secret. Besides, he’s a little too…burly, for my type.”

“Burly?” Colter asked, trying his best to not let his smile show in his voice. But you heard it. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view though. Your mom seemed to strike gold with her children.”

Colter paused for a split second, not holding back the smirk. “Are you saying I’m good looking?”

“Shit,” you thought to yourself. “Don’t let it inflate your ego, Shaw.” You told him. “Just because you’re not…unpleasant to look at.”

The shower cut off and a moment later, the shower door opened causing you to turn around and face Colter as he stepped out, sweeped up in steam whilst his towel remained securely wrapped around his hips. 

“Unpleasant?” Colter repeated. 

“You have nice…” you swallowed, taking in the picture in front of you. Colter. Shirtless Colter. Wet hair, smelling great, shirtless…Colter. “Eyes.” you forced yourself to finish, whilst also forcing your eyes to look at his face. 

But he caught you staring. 

He half smiled coyly. 

“Eyes, hm. Never heard that one before.” 

Turning around, you found yourself watching him and his back, partly memorising the small scars you saw littering his back before he turned back around and closed the door. 

Ten minutes later, it was you being his bedroom door getting changed. However, the struggle came with your dress. 

“Colter?”

“Yeah?”

“I need your help.”

You slid open the door. “My dress. Can you do the zip?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Walking closer, Colter found the top of the zip and pulled it down watching it loosen around your shoulders and hips before it reached the bottom. 

“Thanks.”

Colter cleared his throat a little as he closed the door on you once more to let you get dressed. 

When you opened it again, you were dressed in a t-shirt and what looked to be Christmas pyjama bottoms. 

Your hair that had been styled for the wedding was now a little messier, but out of your face a little more. 

And at some point between brushing your teeth and arguing with Colter over which movie to watch, you fell asleep beside him. 

Little did you know, everything would change when you woke up. 

A small sliver of light was coming in through his blinds, lighting up the side of your face in a warm glow of the first breath of the morning sun. And all Colter could do was watch you for a moment. 

You were so still and calm. No thought process that made your brows furrow or made you rub your hands across your face. Not worrying about getting up early or grading papers or teaching a class was only taking it for the credit rather than the actual joy of the subject. 

You were just…you. 

“Are you watching me sleep?”

“You look peaceful.”

“Only seems fair. I watched you.”

“I knew it!”

“Shut up.” You laughed a little, digging your head further into the pillow. “What time is it?”

“Early, I’d guess.”

“How early? Because if it’s before eight, then I’m using you to block out both the light and the cold.”

Colter turned over and looked at his watch. 

“It’s before eight.”

You groaned and when Colter turned back around, it looked like you were wishing for the bed to swallow you whole. 

“Come here.”

Scooching closer, Colder wrapped the blankets, along with his arm, around your back before allowing you to lower your head against his chest. 

“You really are like a hot water bottle.”

“Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

After a few moments of silence, which included Colter unknowingly tracing patterns on your back with his hand that lay under you, you asked him a question. 

“Where did you get your scars from?”

“Hmm?”

“The scars on your back. They’re small, but they’re deep. Where did you get them?”

“Since when did you know how deep a cut was?”

“I’m a History Professor.” You told him. “I’ve seen plenty of case pictures.”

Colter smiled a little before nodding and explaining a couple of them. 

“Okay, so what about this one?”

Your finger lightly traced an old bullet wound on his shoulder. 

“Bullet wound.”

“What?!”

“Relax, it wasn’t fatal.” Colter assured you. “Hurt. But it was a clear wound.”

“I can’t believe you got shot.”

“Twice.”

“What?”

“And that’s just recently.”

“Do you make it a habit of getting shot?” You asked him. 

“I try not to.”

And then there was that look again. Except this time there was no turning away. There was no escaping to a shower or bathroom. Mostly because, well, you were interlinked. 

But also because…you didn’t want to. 

Laying beside Colter, it made you feel…calm. And for the first time, you didn’t want to turn away. 

So when Colter pulled away for a moment before leaning in further, accepting your nod, you let his lips meet yours. 

It was shy at first. New. Uncertain. You’d both been friends for over twenty years and in the blink of an eye, you were kissing him. 

But then, something broke. Or, rather, moulded into place. 

You pulled Colter closer, holding the side of his face. Whilst his own hands pressed you closer to him before one creeped up towards your own face, through your hair and back down your back. 

After that, it felt like your body was moving independently, or maybe with your mind. 

Pushing up, Colter rolled onto his back, still holding onto you before you managed to move to straddle him, your hands running down his chest before he shot up to meet you once more in a kiss where your arms stretched over his shoulders just as his own hands were beginning to make a mess of your hair, letting it down from the scrunchie you had thrown it up into. 

However, before things could go any further, a call came through Colter’s phone. 

Looking to his bedside desk, you looked back at him and for a moment, you wished it would stop. But then, reality hit. 

“You should answer that.”

“Wait.”

“Answer it, Colter. It could be important.”

It took Colter a moment but he stretched back as you climbed off him, escaping out of the bedroom as he answered it. 

“Hey Teddi,”

Forgetting your shoes, you grabbed one of Colter’s sweaters and made your way outside, being hit with fresh, but very cold air that was as close to a cold shower as you could get for the time being. 

However, it wasn’t long until Colter opened up the door and walked down the steps to where you were pacing back and forth. 

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- we-we shouldn’t have-”

“Shouldn’t we have?”

“Should we have?” 

“I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re asking. Do you regret it?”

“No. At least, not yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You stopped pacing and faced him. “What is this, Colter? Because I don’t have any answers. And we’ve been friends for, what, twenty years? I didn’t even see this coming. I- did you see this coming?”

Colter had to speak truthfully. “Not exactly.”

“See. So…what do we do? Do- are…are we meant to forget it? Do we move on?”

“Do you want to move on?”

You shook your head. “Colter…I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe we don’t have to know.”

You looked at Colter. “You do know me, right?”

Colter smiled a little and walked closer towards you, albeit a little slower than normal. 

“I do,” he nodded. “Which is why I am going to ask you this. Not thinking of anything else, not thinking of how it will change things, did you want to kiss me?”

“Yes,”

“And not thinking about that, would you want to do it again?”

“Colter…” You could feel yourself blushing, hard, as Colter got closer to you. 

“Just answer the question,” he smiled reassuringly, his voice a little softer. 

“Maybe…yes.”

“And if I asked you that tomorrow night,” Cotlet took one of your hands in his, slowly, before picking up your second.”Could I take you out on a date, what would you say?”

“Yes.” 

“Then, tomorrow night, at seven o’clock, can I pick you up from your home and take you out on a date?”

You finally met Colter’s eyes fully, for the first time, since you were lay in bed. 

“Yes.”

Colter smiled, leaning in closer. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes.”

[milogreer]

sneak peeks for shaw pack scaredy cats, a fic about the shaw pack as teenagers where the focus is (supposed to be) milo and tank torturing themselves and each other with horror movies :) takes place around 2009 when they're about 16/in 11th grade

Milo and Tank are hardly three feet out the door when Asher barrels out after them, squeezing his way between two freshmen and nearly taking one of them out with his backpack as he goes. He offers them an embarrassed apology, brightening up when he whirls back around to his pack members.

“I’m glad I caught you guys. Guess what?”

“What?” they ask in unison. Tank sounds far less interested than Milo, not that it’s a high bar - it’s surprising that they even answered Asher at all.

“I talked David into going to see Saw VI with me next weekend.”

“What?” Just Milo this time, incredulous. “That gore-fest? How the hell’d you manage that?”

“Hey, the Saw franchise is more than blood and guts! It’s psychological horror, and the plot is, you know, it’s intricate-”

Tank, who’s turned a little green at this point, says bluntly, “It’s gross.”

And Asher can’t really argue with that. Especially considering the gore is mostly why he watches them, contrasting David’s preference for plot-driven movies.

“So, I can assume you don’t wanna go with us to see it?”

“No way,” Tank says firmly, nose scrunching up in disgust, at the same time Milo scoffs, “In your dreams!”

Asher lets out a rather pitiful whine, his shoulders dropping and head lolling to the side. “Come on, you guys never wanna go to the movies. You’re so boring.”

The door opens to reveal Gabriel, and Tank can feel the phantom way their wolf ears flatten against their head. They blink up at him with wide, surprised eyes before quickly looking away, clearing their throat nervously.

“Afternoon, Mr. Shaw.”

To be the Alpha, Gabe really isn’t an intimidating man. Tall, broad, and grizzled, sure - but he’s also standing before them in a faded old apron and holding a sauce-covered pasta fork. So, not exactly the scariest guy around, but Tank’s only been part of the pack for two years. Despite making friends with a handful of the other kids, some of the adults still watch them warily. It makes Tank nervous. The entire pack shuts their mouths whenever Gabe speaks; with authority like that, one wrong move could send them and their parents back to Washington.

“Hey, kiddo. What brings you by?”

“I, uh-,” They shift their weight from one foot to the other. "I told David I was coming over to get a movie. I figured he told you.” They falter for a second before awkwardly adding, “Sorry,” almost as a question rather than a statement.

Gabe waves his pasta fork dismissively. “No problem. He’s got this project he’s been working on for school, he’s been locked up all afternoon.” He steps backwards into the house, opening up the doorway, and gestures for them to come in. “You know the way.”

Tank hums affirmatively, head down as they skirt past Gabe into the house, only remembering their manners after they’ve made it halfway down the hall.

“Thank you.”

“Good luck,” Gabe calls jokingly after them as he disappears into the kitchen.

“Do you wanna stay for dinner, Tank?”

No fuckin’ way. They open their mouth to decline as politely as possible, but David cuts in before they can.

“Yeah.” He pins them with a look that effectively quiets any argument they would’ve tried to make. They think he’s a lot like Gabriel that way, sharing that authoritative spirit that demands to be listened to. “We’ve still gotta pick a movie, but we can do it after, right?”

Keeping their expression neutral, they say, “Sure, we can do that.” They chance a look at Gabe, that same out-of-character deference shining through. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” He has a warm smile, entirely different from what Tank’s used to at home. It somehow serves to both put them at ease and make them uncomfortable. “The more the merrier. It’ll be another five minutes max.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dad.”

The second the door closes, Tank picks up the nearest object - a baseball - and chucks it at David, who catches it with ease. “You suck.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I can basically hear your stomach growling.” He tosses the baseball back at them. “And this way, you don’t have a choice but to spend time with Gabe the dad instead of Gabe the Alpha.”

“You’re crazy. If anything, Tank likes you the least."

“Aw, c’mon, we’re best buds!” Asher slings an arm around Tank, dragging them in close. “Isn’t that right, T?”

If looks could kill, the side-eye/scowl combination Tank hits Asher with would’ve dropped him like a sack of potatoes. They tamp down the urge to shove him off of them; they’ve been trying to get better about putting hands on people.

“Get. Off.”

Asher complies without complaint, his hands in the air and the most shit-eating grin on his face even as Tank bares their teeth at him.

“See?” He winks at Milo. “Besties.”

“Whatever. All I'm saying is, I don’t care if you’re dying - If I catch you sniffin’ around my house this weekend during this movie you won’t have to worry about Dee’s test because I’ll beat your ass into next week.”

Asher perks up, eyes sparkling. “Ooh-”

“That is not a promise, you freak,” Milo cuts in with a finger pointed threateningly at Asher. “Don’t you got a class to go to?”