#thanks again for the wonderful experience

[hotwife-larissa-returns]

Well, as you may know, I‘ve started quite early with exploring the pleasures of sex. I‘ve been sexually precocious and luckily my mommy knew and didn’t fight it, but helped me to get the best possible experiences. She even let one of her lovers deflower me, while she watched him doing it.

Even today, I‘m very thankful for that, it was one of the greatest gifts, I‘ve ever gotten. He was in an age, where he could have been my dad, but he had the experience and patience to do it right. He took his time, prepared me to take it and finally made me a woman.

But that experience was just the start, once I started to enjoy being fucked, I wanted more of it. More sex, more cock, more cum. I dressed like a slut in school, got the right kind of attention and there were quite a lot of boys, who got horny for me. I could see the bulges in their pants, they were attracted to a naughty little girl, who had already been deflorated.

It felt, like they all knew it, as if they could see it, that I already had sex. It was awkward, but I loved to have that reputation of being an easy lay. And I really enjoyed it, being hit on, having some flirts and some older boys had me on their personal watchlist as well.

Most of those boys even in higher grades hadn’t have much experience with the opposite sex at that time. They did some kissing, maybe some petting, but most of them haven’t put their cock in one of that girls in their class. So basically they were still virgins. But their desire to do it was growing - as was the pressure not to get left behind.

They wanted to brag about being a man, that finally enjoyed the pleasures of sticking his cock inside of a warm and wet pussy. And I volunteered to be he right person to start with. With my reputation it was quite easy to get invited to a lot of parties and as a girl of 17 years, you‘ll be happy to take those invites. In most cases those parties were at their parents houses, while they were away on vacation.

And I was the special guest on those parties, I got pulled into one of the rooms and the host had his time with me, some of his friends did me, too, after he had finished. It wasn’t too much fun, not what I expected or desired.

They were so inexperienced, they didn’t knew how to do a woman, they fucked me quick and dirty, came early, even before I got aroused. But at least all of them knew to take some protection. Mommy got me on the pill after she noticed that my sexual appetite was rising, but she told me to take care, that they have to use protection as well.

But that guy was special… I hadn’t seen him in school before. He took his time, he cared to get me into the mood, kissed me passionately, inhaled my scent, caressed my body, it felt like he was really interested in me and I had some feelings for him as well. I wanted him… desperately. And he knew it. I spread my legs for him and he entered me. Gosh, it felt great… I surely wasn’t the first one he had in bed.

I was completely overwhelmed by my feeling and let him fuck me, he gave me two orgasms and even screamed his name, before he came. And suddenly I felt, that something felt differently… so wrong. Fuck, in the heat of the moment, we had forgotten to use a condom. I opened my eyes and I was even more shocked to see two other boys standing next to the bed, completely undressed and jerking their hard cocks.

He kissed my neck again, he knew what it makes me feel like, and as I blushed, he called me his slutty princess and told me not to regret it, I was a wonderful fuck and his friends are quite as good as he is, when it comes to please a needy girl. It was the first time I felt like a dirty whore, his cum was oozing out of my tight little pussy, while I could see the lust in his friends eyes. It turned me on and I let them have me as well.

They ran a train on me that night, they took multiple turns on me… none of them used a condom, they bathed their cocks in he other guys cum. After they had finished, they left the room and as they dressed up, they pulled some money out of their pockets and gave it to him. I was so tired and exhausted and my pussy was a burning mess.

He joined me in bed, cuddled with me, kissed me, called me his new lovely slut and told me, that he’ll love to earn some more money with me. I could believe what was happening here. But I was just too exhausted and tired to discuss that, he did me one more time, bathing his cock in my well used and sloppy cunt and as he shot his last load into me, we both fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up laying next to him, he looked so cute, I kissed him and for some reason I thanked him for last night and told him something stupid… that I think I love him. He just smiled and as he walked to the bathroom I couldn’t keep my eyes off his slimy cock. I begged him to suck it clean… and I did.

He just smiled, called me a good slut and told me, that he couldn’t wait to introduce me to his family, but that’s another story.

👩🏻🤗🥰😍😘💋🫦🍆🍆🍆💦😈💓

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Chapter 04;

— Your Sweet Love

Synosis: In a marriage born out of convenience and plagued by bitterness, You and Sunghoon find yourselves trapped in a cycle of cold indifference and unspoken resentment. Your quiet strength and tender care begin to reach the heart Sunghoon has so carefully guarded. Slowly, walls built from years of hurt and mistrust start to crumble, revealing a shared loneliness neither had acknowledged. With every tentative step toward connection, your hearts yearn for a closeness you’ve long denied yourself selves, leaving both to wonder if you can build something real from the ashes of your forced bond.

Navigation: Intro - 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 Pairing: fem!reader X husband!Park Sunghoon Genre: Arranged Marriage trope; Slow Burn; Angst; Fluff; Smut (kinda) Warnings: cursing, mention of pills (some are drugs); abuse; mentions of blood; sexual content; injuries; heavy themes; juicy tension ;) Music: Listen to 'nevertheless ost' and 'the trunk ost'!! Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and it does not reflect real life in any way. This story is heavily inspired by the kdrama 'The Trunk' on Netflix but with a special twist! Words: 6k - New Chapter Every Saturday!!

A/n: I procrastinated on writing this chapter so badly and I don't know why :( The story is coming to an end and I'm so sad :/ Its been great to write this for you guys, I hope you like this new chapter. Because it is kind of a calm chapter, its not as long as the last one, but I worked very hard on it anyway! Also, I want to warn you: this chapter talks about death. Thank you for all the love and support. It means everything to me <3

After standing in front of your bedroom door for what feels like an eternity, Sunghoon still can't seem to find the courage to knock. His hand hovers in the air, frozen in hesitation. His thoughts are clouded with regret, and he experiences a sense of weight as if he is being pulled down by gravity. Knowing he’s too frail to make a move tonight, he sighs and turns away, deciding to retreat to his room. He can try again tomorrow morning.

Inside his large bedroom, the scent of clean laundry greets him, and as he approaches his bed, he notices you’ve changed the sheets. The soothing fragrance makes his chest ache, your presence lingering in the room despite the distance between you. His own words replay in his head like a cruel, endless movie. Sunghoon closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to push you out of his mind.

The air in the room is ice-cold, the forgotten open window letting in the freezing night breeze. His skin prickles as he crosses the room to shut it, hating how the icy air mirrors the chill between you two. He moves around, searching for his sleeping clothes. An old black T-shirt and loose pants that hang low on his waist.

Cursing under his breath, he slips under the covers, only to be met with cold once again. Sunghoon's body shivers as he adjusts beneath the heavy blankets, but they do nothing to bring him comfort. He exhales a deep, tired sigh, his head sinking into the pillow. More than anything, he just wants this crappy night to end.

But hours pass, and it feels like absolute hell. A cold, lonely hell that he’s trapped in. For four agonizing hours, Sunghoon tosses and turns, his body as restless as his mind. His thoughts refuse to quiet down, and every time he closes his eyes, the image of you crying resurfaces, keeping him wide awake. Frustrated, he lies flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, his heartbeat pounding fast against his rib cage.

Without thinking, he throws off the blankets and gets up. His feet carry him to the hallway before his mind can catch up. Your door seems miles away, and with each step, his legs grow weaker.

Once again, he finds himself standing in front of your room, anxiety clouding his head. What if she's asleep? He wonders. It’s four in the morning. His hand hesitates in mid-air, lingering over the door as he debates whether to knock or walk away.

What if she hates me and wants to leave me? His anxiety screams inside his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and swallows hard, his hands trembling as he slowly reaches for the wooden door. But to his surprise, it opens slightly before he can touch it, leaving him confused. From the small gap you’ve created, you stare at your husband with tired eyes.

“I didn’t even—” Sunghoon starts, but you just offer him a small smile. Shaking your head, you glance at him again before responding. His beautiful brown eyes are red, with dark circles beneath them, a clear sign that he’s been just as restless as you.

“I heard your footsteps,” you finally say, easing some uncertainty swirling in Sunghoon’s mind.

“Can I come inside? I want to talk,” he mutters, his shy gaze flickering away from your face.

“Sure,” you reply simply, not wanting to seem too eager to see him.

Sunghoon stands awkwardly in the center of your room, facing your bed. It’s the first time he’s been inside, and it looks exactly how he imagined. Decorated in warm, earthy browns and soft greens, with dim yellow lights glowing in the corners and small plants perched on the windowsill. The familiar scent of your perfume lingers in the air, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. He exhales slowly, feeling himself relax just a little.

His curious eyes never leave your silhouette as you quietly close the door and crawl back into the messy sea of blankets on your bed. He notices you’re wearing the same thing as the other day when he brought you tea. A plain, oversized deep blue T-shirt with no shorts. Sunghoon quickly shifts his gaze elsewhere before his body reacts to the sight of your exposed skin.

“Are you going to say something? Or just stand there in silence?” you tease, your eyes burning holes into him.

“I want to say I’m sorry. I never meant to say those things to you,” Sunghoon finally confesses, his voice quiet, his gaze still avoiding yours. “I was stressed and overwhelmed from work… I didn’t mean anything I said.”

As the last words leave his lips, Sunghoon’s warm brown eyes finally meet yours. The sight makes his chest ache; your eyes are still red and your face slightly swollen.

“Sunghoon, you can’t just say whatever you want and then blame it on stress. Those words… they… hurt me… more than I can even admit.” Your voice is low and unsteady, a knot forming in your throat as the words leave your mouth.

“I know, I know.” Sunghoon insists, stepping closer to your bed. “You’re absolutely right, and that’s why I couldn’t sleep until I came here to apologize. I’m sorry, Y/N. It won’t happen again.”

You hold his gaze until he finishes speaking, searching for any sign of insincerity. But the way his eyes soften reassures you that he means every word. Under his intense stare, you feel breathless, the air slipping away as his piercing eyes stay locked on yours. The tension in the room shifts in an instant, like a single spark igniting a space filled with gasoline. Frustrated, you throw yourself onto the bed, your back pressing into the mattress, legs slightly parted. You want to scold him for being so cruel, but your thoughts are a disorganized mess.

Sunghoon observes you in silence, his frustration growing. Your lack of response does nothing to ease the guilt twisting in his chest. He notices the way you cover your eyes with your arm, hiding from him. A sudden inappropriate thought crosses his mind, and a smirk tugs at his lips. Meticulously, he crawls onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs, his knee nudging them apart just enough to fit.

Your head snaps up instantly, and when you move your arm away, you’re met with Sunghoon. He is so close, you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. Your cheeks flush under his intense stare, his dark eyes absorbing every inch of your face.

Still annoyed by your silence, he finally speaks.

“Do you forgive me, Y/N?” His voice is deeper, dripping with something that makes your stomach twist.

You want to resist, want to say something sharp, but instead, you just nod, too flustered to form a single word.

Suddenly, Sunghoon’s right hand gently pushes your right knee up, his warm fingers gliding over your calf in a slow, deliberate motion. A breath catches in your throat, your skin erupting in goosebumps at his touch. Then he leans in, his lips hovering near your ear as he whispers,

“I don’t like this silence you’re giving me. Use your words, princess. Tell me you forgive me for my stupid actions.”

You don’t know if it’s the unexpected nickname, the husky rasp of his voice, or the way his fingers continue their teasing path, trailing higher, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. Your eyes flutter shut as a soft, unintentional moan escapes your lips, your body betraying you under his touch.

And it feels exactly how you imagined it—confident yet gentle, just like Sunghoon.

“Sunghoon…” You manage, your throat dry as your eyes lock with his once again. “I forgive you…” you breathe out, still trying to steady yourself.

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens as he takes in your flustered state, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“See? Was that so hard?” he whispers against your lips, and you swear they brushed against yours for the briefest second. Just as quickly as he settled on top of you, Sunghoon shifted, falling onto the bed beside you.

You turn onto your side to face him, and the smug smile on his lips says it all. He enjoyed teasing you and relished seeing you so helpless beneath him. Your gaze wanders over his face, taking in how effortlessly handsome he looks dressed casually, his black hair slightly tousled, and a playful smirk curving his lips. Half of his face is hidden behind his dark strands, making him look even more alluring.

Your eyes wander lower, and your breath catches at the sight of his bare neck and collarbones, the loose t-shirt draping off his shoulders. His pale skin is smooth, scattered with small beauty marks that you never noticed before. Heat rises to your cheeks as your curiosity gets the best of you, and your gaze dips even lower. The way he’s lying down causes his shirt to ride up, revealing a sliver of his toned waist. Your hungry eyes trace the lines of his abs down to his v-line, which is teasingly visible beneath the low-hanging waistband of his pants.

This is the first time you’ve ever seen your husband in such casual, revealing clothes, and it’s affecting you more than you expected. But before your gaze can travel any further, Sunghoon’s hand gently cups your chin, tilting your head up, so your eyes meet his again.

“My eyes are up here,” he teases, amusement flickering across his face.

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks burn even hotter. “Shut up,” you mutter, hating how easily he has you wrapped around his finger.

“I’m feeling so sleepy now,” Sunghoon sighs, ignoring your flustered state. Then he yawns, letting his body sink deeper into the mattress.

“Since you were good to me and apologized,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant as a tiny spark of confidence grows inside you. “You can sleep here with me tonight.”

Sunghoon lifts his head off the pillow, giving you a surprised look, as if not fully believing your words. Without another comment, you snuggle back under the covers and switch off the light on your nightstand. In the darkness, you turn your back to him, pressing your burning face into your pillow. The ghost of his earlier touch still lingers on your skin, making it impossible to calm your racing heart.

A moment later, you hear him shifting beneath the covers. Then, slowly, Sunghoon inches closer, his warmth seeping into your back as his arm snakes around your waist. He pulls you firmly against him, and you feel everything—his solid chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath, the way his legs press against yours. His head dips close to your ear, his hand sliding up, resting just below your chest.

“Thank you, princess. Good night,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your earlobe.

With a tight grip on your waist, you hear his breathing begin to slow. Your eyelids grow heavy too, and without resistance, you drift off in his arms. Outside, the full moon shines brightly in the vast, star-filled sky, casting its bluish light into your bedroom, illuminating your tangled bodies.

The night slips away quickly, and soon, the sun begins to rise, bringing warmth and light into the world. Inside your bedroom, you and your husband remain entwined, both of you breathing slow and steady.

Sunghoon scrunches his face in irritation as the bright morning rays reflect off his closed eyelids, forcing him to wake. He yawns, then carefully pulls his arm from under your head, needing to stretch his stiff body. Beside him, you sleep peacefully. Your hair is a mess, and soft snores are escaping your lips, but even like this, Sunghoon thinks you're the cutest woman alive.

Resisting the urge to reach out and brush his fingers against your serene face, he rubs his eyes and sits up, resting his back against the wooden headboard. The quiet atmosphere is comforting, and for a brief moment, he wishes it could always be like this—calm, steady, safe. He’s not sure if he can handle any more chaos.

His sleepy eyes wander around your bedroom, finally able to take it in fully in the daylight. As he scans the space, something catches his attention. A small frame on your nightstand, nestled beside the poetry book you always carry around. He leans forward to get a better view, but he is surprised that the picture inside is of a man.

He doesn’t seem much older than twenty, his blonde hair falling messily over his face as he makes a peace sign for the camera.

Sunghoon hesitates for a second before slowly leaning over your sleeping body, reaching for the frame. Just as his fingers curl around it, your body shifts, and suddenly, your face is too close to his.

“What are you doing?” you murmur sleepily, your eyes still closed.

Sunghoon grips the picture tightly before sitting back up, waiting for you to fully wake. He expects you to scold him—maybe even get mad for touching your things without permission, but instead, you simply roll onto your side, meeting his gaze with a soft, sad smile.

“Who is he?” Sunghoon asks cautiously, noticing the way your expression shifts despite the small grin on your lips.

“Nishimura Riki,” you say slowly, a lump forming in your throat. “He was my ex-husband.” The words feel heavy, and no matter how much time has passed, the pain still lingers.

Sunghoon watches you closely, sensing the weight behind your words. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, his gaze unwavering, his tone gentle, trying to offer the same patience you always show him.

“Yeah, but maybe not now.”

The moment the words leave your lips, he nods silently and hands you the frame. He observes as your eyes flicker over the image, small tears forming as you stare.

Slowly, you set the frame back in its place, taking a deep breath as if trying to compose yourself. Sunghoon remains silent, but inside, confusion stirs. You’ve never mentioned being married before, not once. You’ve never even spoken another man’s name in front of him. And yet, the way you look at the picture sends a cold shiver down his spine.

Something about the entire situation feels… discomfiting.

“What should we do today?” Your voice breaks the comfortable silence. Slowly, you shift under the covers, resting your head on Sunghoon’s thighs and looking up at him.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” he asks confidently, though his heart pounds in his chest. His hand drifts to your head, gently patting your hair.

You smile at him. “Of course I do, Sunghoon,” you reply, avoiding his gaze as a wave of shyness washes over you. The excitement bubbling inside makes you feel like a twelve-year-old girl falling in love for the first time.

“I’ll plan everything—you don’t have to worry about a thing!” he exclaims, his voice laced with excitement as he watches you fondly, his fingers threading deeper into your hair.

A peaceful silence settles between you, filled with the warmth of the blankets, the soft morning sunlight filtering through the curtains, and the soothing sensation of Sunghoon’s delicate fingers massaging your scalp. You stare at his face, admiring his cute moles and messy bed hair. Your tongue wets your lips as your gaze shifts to his plump lips, so inviting. It makes your stomach twist with the need to feel them against yours.

Sunghoon seems to sense the shift in your eyes because his fingers, that were in your hair, started to trail down to rest behind your neck. Slowly, he leans in, your sweet scent enveloping him as he lowers himself to reach your lips.

And once again, he stops just millimeters away, his warm breath ghosting over your eager lips. “We can't. Not yet,” Sunghoon whispers, turning his head at the last second. Instead, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes at the tender touch and pout as he pulls away.

“I know it’s frustrating, but I’m waiting for the right moment,” Sunghoon explains, his fingertips gently tracing your warm cheeks.

Then, he carefully guides you to sit up on the mattress before leaving the bed, and you watch him in confusion. Just when you thought Sunghoon couldn’t get any more handsome, he proves you wrong. He stands before you with a soft blush dusting his cheeks, neck, and ears.

“Wear something nice—we’re leaving in two hours,” he tells you with a bright smile, standing in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob.

You nod, biting your lip as your heart skips a beat under his gaze. His sharp fangs peek out as he grins at you one last time before disappearing through the door.

The atmosphere in your room will never be the same. His presence now engraved in your sheets.

“Can we go somewhere else before doing what you planned?” you interrupt the silence as the car comes to a stop at a red light. Turning to face Sunghoon, you watch as he furrows his brows before responding.

“Sure. Where do you need to go?” he asks, his eyes carefully flicking to the right mirror outside the car.

“The cemetery.”

This time, the silence that settles between you isn't comfortable or light. It’s suffocating. It eats away at your ability to breathe, making your chest ache. Sunghoon doesn’t ask any questions, and you’re grateful. You need all the courage you can muster to finally tell him about your ex-husband. Your unhappy gaze remains fixed on the window, the sight of the familiar place making you take a deep breath.

The sun blazes against your back as you and Sunghoon walk through the cemetery, the atmosphere heavy and uneasy. He follows a step behind, letting you lead the way. When your high heels click against the cement path, he realizes you’ve reached your destination.

You stop in front of a wall lined with unfamiliar names. Slowly, your delicate hands leave your pockets, reaching for a particular spot. Your fingertips softly graze over a familiar face, and as your teary eyes meet his, Sunghoon finally understands what was going on.

“He was such a sweet boy,” you begin, a melancholic smile forming on your lips as small tears start to fall. Sunghoon immediately steps forward, standing by your side. His hand finds yours, and he interlocks your fingers, silently giving you the strength to continue.

“Ni-ki and I grew up together; he was always there for me.” You pause, turning back to Ni-ki’s picture on his grave.

“What happened?” Sunghoon asks carefully, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand.

“We were planning our wedding when we found out he had late-stage brain cancer,” you say, your voice trembling. “I was devastated. I cried every single day. But… he stayed positive, always smiling, even when his hair started falling out from chemotherapy. We knew he had only a few months left, so I put on my wedding dress and married him in the hospital. I wanted to be his wife before he…” Your voice cracks as fresh tears spill down your cheeks.

Sunghoon holds your shaking hands with unwavering care, his warmth grounding you.

“He died two days after we got married,” you whisper. “I was holding his hand. The last thing he said to me was, ‘I will always love you.’” Your breath hitches. “He was only twenty, and I was twenty-two. We were young, I know, but I couldn’t let him go without marrying him—”

A loud sob cuts off your words, your body trembling as grief crashes over you once again.

“It’s okay…” Sunghoon murmurs, pulling you into his embrace. His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry, princess,” he whispers, his voice tight with emotion. You don’t notice the warm tears slipping down his own face, his heart aching at the sight of you in pain.

“Ni-ki was my everything. He was my only reason to live,” you admit brokenly. “My mom hated me; my dad was gone… I only had him. After he passed, I fell into a deep depression. I barely ate for months, and no one cared. Then, one day, I received a bill. A heavy debt that Ni-ki’s relatives refused to pay. He grew up in foster care, so no one cared about him. No one but me. Instead of telling me, he tried to cover the medical costs himself with what little he made from teaching dance classes. But it wasn’t enough. That’s why I agreed to marry you,” you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “Your father said he’d pay off the debt if I accepted.”

Sunghoon tightens his hold on your hands, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t love again.” Your voice trembles as you press your fingers together, nervous. “But then… you showed up.” You lower your gaze to your hands, too scared to look at him. “At first, I hated you. Then I started to accept you. Then I understood you. And now…Now I’m afraid of what I feel for you.”

Sunghoon gently tilts your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. His gaze is so warm, so deep, that for a moment, the whole world disappears, leaving just the two of you.

“I’m not afraid of what I feel for you,” he whispers. His thumb caresses your tear-streaked cheeks with infinite tenderness. “I never knew you were all I needed… but now that I have you, I won’t let you go.”

A smile grows on both of your faces as he speaks, love dripping from his words. You rest your head against his chest as you hug him, craving the comfort of his embrace and his familiar scent. Sunghoon hugs you back, pressing a kiss to your hair before resting his chin on top of your head.

You remain entangled in each other for a few moments, your gaze fixed on your ex-lover’s grave. You wish Ni-ki could understand how much you loved him and Sunghoon. The two men are so different, yet so alike. You hope he isn’t upset that you’ve made space in your heart for someone else, despite him never truly leaving.

The sun remains high in the sky, its warmth easing the ache in your chest. When you look up at Sunghoon, you find that he’s already watching you, making you smile.

“We can go now,” you assure him, taking a deep breath.

Sunghoon intertwines his fingers with yours as you walk back to his car. “Thank you for telling me this. I know it wasn’t easy.” His voice is laced with genuine affection, his smile soft.

“I felt like it was time.”

“Was Ni-ki as patient as you?” Sunghoon asks, encouraging you to talk about your ex-lover so that remembering him won’t hurt as much.

“He was way more patient than me.” You smile. “I learned patience from him. Mostly because he loved to get on my nerves. At first, I hated how childish he could be because I was never allowed to be. But he showed me kindness, love…” Your voice trails off as memories of his playful nature resurface. His loud laughter echoed through the small apartment you once shared, his grin mischievous as he ran from you, clutching your favorite chocolate half-eaten in his hands.

Sunghoon catches your smile in the rearview mirror as he drives to your date’s destination. The conversation remains on the same topic throughout the ride, with him asking questions about Ni-ki and enjoying the way you recount your memories—your voice filled with both excitement and tenderness.

Sunghoon could have never imagined you had gone through all of this. You always seem so calm and collected, as if you always know exactly what to do and say.

“Woah, what is this place?” you ask sarcastically, laughing as you spot the bold red letters of the sign above the building. “The movie theater?”

“It’s cliché, I know,” Sunghoon admits while carefully parking his car, his gaze flicking back to the rearview mirror. “But it’s perfect for a date. Plus, I haven’t been here in so long, and there’s this horror movie I really wanted to watch with you!” He explains as he turns off the engine, finally looking at you.

You adjust your black dress and nod, charmed by his adorable way of thinking. “Shall we?”

Sunghoon quickly gets out of the car and rushes to your side, opening the door for you. A giggle escapes your lips at the gentlemanly gesture, your heart skipping a beat. After closing the car door, he walks beside you, an arm wrapped around your waist and a smile engraved on his lips.

The theater is bustling with people and loud chatter. The queue seems endless, but after a few minutes, you finally get your tickets.

The movie room is packed, with not a single empty seat in sight. You steal a quick glance at Sunghoon, only to realize he’s already looking at you. He hands you the popcorn, and as you grab a handful, a few pieces spill onto the floor. He gives you a stern look, and you suppress a smile.

The movie turns out to be scarier than you expected. With every bloody scene on the screen, you squeeze your eyes shut and instinctively lean closer to Sunghoon. He notices your discomfort in the dimly lit space and reaches for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. You hold onto him tightly whenever something terrifying happens, making him smile at your cute reactions.

“That was… something else,” you murmur as you toss the empty popcorn container into the trash while walking out of the theater.

Sunghoon chuckles. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

“I like horror, not gore. And that was all gore!” you pout, earning a laugh from him.

Suddenly, he stops mid-step and turns to face you. His hands reach for your cheeks, gently pulling at them, making you squirm under his touch. “You’re so cute,” he teases, his eyes locked onto yours.

You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress a smile. “Obviously,” you reply, pulling his hands away from your slightly sore cheeks.

“Are you hungry?” Sunghoon asks as you resume walking.

“I’m always hungry,” you respond teasingly, shaking your head dramatically.

He laughs again. “Let’s get dinner then.”

He opens the car door for you, giving you space to slide inside. Once you’re seated, you glance up at him with a nod, and he circles the car before driving to the restaurant.

Your mouth falls open in awe as you step inside. The restaurant is decorated in black and red, with tall windows and dim lighting that gives the place an intimate, sensual atmosphere. Sunghoon smiles at your reaction, admiring the way you take in the space.

He stands beside you, his hand resting on your lower back as he guides you to a table tucked away from the main dining area, the spot he always chooses, right by the window.

As Sunghoon pulls out the chair for you to sit in, he finally takes a moment to admire you. To his surprise, your dark, smoky eye-look remains perfectly intact despite the earlier tears, and your lips are still stained red from the new lip tint you bought. The black silk dress you wear drapes elegantly over your figure, hugging you in all the right places. A delicate pearl necklace rests against your collarbone, making your skin look even more alluring than usual.

The menu is already on the table, so you take the initiative and browse through it, still unsure of what to eat. Your gaze drifts to the prices, and your eyes widen in shook. If you had never married him, dining here wouldn’t even be an option.

“Shall we order steak?” Sunghoon asks, breaking the silence. You quickly glance at him, your eyes shining with excitement.

“Yes!” you respond with a smile. “And to drink… rosé wine?” You pout slightly, knowing your husband prefers red.

“Of course, princess. Whatever you want—today is all about you.” He flirts, flashing you a seductive smirk, his dimples on full display.

A sweet waitress takes your order, but your attention remains fixed on your husband. Sunghoon looks exceptionally handsome tonight, with his black hair neatly styled back, and a pair of thin glasses resting on his nose. He wears a simple white button-up shirt paired with a black blazer, but the confidence in his demeanor makes even the simplest outfit look effortlessly refined.

“You’re staring…” Sunghoon murmurs, trying to suppress a smile. His ears grow warm under your passionate gaze. Those beautiful doe eyes of yours will be his downfall.

“Sorry, you just look so handsome tonight, husband.” You compliment him with a grin.

“Thank you, wife. You look absolutely stunning, too,” Sunghoon flirts back, another smirk threatening to break across his lips.

The dinner passes slowly, filled with lingering glances and playful jokes. You feel calm and safe as Sunghoon shares funny stories about his old friends, his charming smile captivating you more and more. He remains attentive throughout the evening, always checking to ensure your glass is never empty and helping you cut your steak when the pieces prove difficult. His caring nature is one of your favorite things about him—because you’ve spent your whole life being the one to take care of others, when he takes care of you, it touches an area deeper in your heart.

Now, you walk side by side along the vast road by the Han River, enjoying the occasional cool breeze brushing against your skin. The moon has begun to rise, its glow casting a silver shimmer over the moving water. You pause to admire it, drawn to the soothing sound of the waves.

“The moon looks so beautiful tonight,” you remark, stealing a quick glance at Sunghoon. He stands behind you, his eyes glued to your figure. The gentle wind causes your dress to ripple, accentuating your curves.

“It’s beautiful,” he agrees, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around your waist. “But not as beautiful as you.”

“You’ve been so flirty.” You tilt your head slightly to look at him.

“You don’t like it?” He raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“I do… It’s just…” You pause, locking eyes with him. “I have to get used to it, that’s all.” A soft smile curves your lips as you turn fully to face your husband.

Sunghoon realizes this moment is perfect. You’re smiling, your cheeks slightly flushed from the wine, looking like an absolute goddess under the moonlight. He slowly slides an arm around your waist again, pulling you closer, his heartbeat hammering in his chest as he leans in.

Your hands grow slightly clammy as you grasp his wrist, your lips parting in anticipation—hoping, waiting for him to claim you as his. And then he finally does.

The moment his warm lips meet yours, the air leaves your lungs. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and a smile blossoms on your lips. Sunghoon feels it against his own as he kisses you, and it makes his head spin.

Uncertain if he should go further, he starts to pull away, but your hands fly up to his face, pulling him back toward you, craving more. He gets the message, and he’s more than happy to oblige. His lips move against yours with slow, deliberate care, savoring your taste.

Your tongue brushes against his bottom lip, silently asking for entrance, and he grants it—just this once. You take the lead, eagerly deepening the kiss, your tongue tangling with his in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

When Sunghoon finally runs out of air, he pulls away, breathless but utterly satisfied. You rest your forehead against his, relishing the feeling of his breath fanning over your damp lips.

If you had any doubts before, now they’ve completely disappeared.

You love him.

Jiwon stares blankly at the white wall of her bedroom. The lights are dim, the room is warm, and she sits on the edge of the bed while a handsome man sits beside her. His fingers trace invisible shapes on her exposed waist as his lips occupy themselves with her neck, biting and sucking the soft skin.

It’s like she can see them right in front of her when she closes her eyes, the memories making her skin crawl. She had thought Sunghoon was distant because the company was taking up all his time, but she was wrong. And that is what pisses her off the most.

The man beside her presses down on her shoulders, causing her to lie flat on the mattress—but she isn’t there. She’s long gone, lost in the sight of you. She wanted to laugh when she caught you and Sunghoon at the restaurant she used to love. How dare he bring you to her favorite place?

At first, Jiwon thought she was imagining things, but Sunghoon’s face was impossible to mistake. She watched you both the entire time—how you laughed at his jokes, how his eyes lingered on your face, how at ease he seemed with you. She envies it badly. But deep down, she knows it was her fault for crushing his confidence.

As she closes her eyes to relive the moment, the man is now on top of her, unbuttoning her corset and completely unaware of how distant she is. Not that she minds. She chose him to make her forget about this stupid night. After watching you two have dinner, Jiwon followed you to the Han River. She needed to see just how close you two really were.

She had expected some light skinship, but when she saw Sunghoon lean in and kiss you, she lost control. Hot, salty tears streamed down her cheeks as she turned away, heading back to her car. She wasn’t sad, she was furious. How could Sunghoon move on so quickly? How could he kiss you like that for everyone to see?

Jiwon was shaking by the time she reached her car, and once inside, she screamed until her throat burned. Her hands trembled as she pounded against the steering wheel, feeling betrayed, humiliated, and replaced.

Now, back in the present, she lets out a soft moan as the stranger’s fingers trail up the inside of her bare thighs.

A perfect plan begins to take shape in her mind as his hand ventures higher, grazing over her underwear. The plan will be flawless. She just has to enjoy her night first.

As the man slowly and teasingly pulls her panties down, she allows herself to relax—while a malicious scheme lingers at the edge of her thoughts.

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[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for an anon; "love is being stupid together". Will we be switching POV in this series as a regular thing? Extremely unlikely. But was this also too fucking funny a concept to pass up once I thought of it?? God yes. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Oh, sorry, I've got to get going, Ms. Grant,” Superman apologizes with a polite little smile, half-waving a hand in front of himself. He just saved half a busload of people from crashing into the front of the crowded little café across the street from the Daily Planet's building, but that's not what Cat's interested in getting the scoop on, because–“It's almost six and I don't like to miss dinner with the kiddo, you know how it is.” 

Cat forgets literally every single thing she was going to try and get him on the record about. 

“Wait,” she says as her brain tries and very badly fails to process that statement. “Superman, do you have a kid?” 

“Oh, yeah, Lex Luthor had my baby while I was dead,” Superman replies, his expression turning bizarrely smitten as he sets a hand against the side of his own face and sighs fondly. Cat wonders if this is what going insane feels like. Maybe? Maybe it is? Is this how schizophrenia manifests? “His name's Kon-El, he's got the cutest little heartbeat and he thinks I'm the least interesting person alive.” 

Superman sighs fondly again. Cat stares blankly at him and has the entirely unprecedented experience of being speechless in a man's presence.

[gold-onthe-inside]

pair programming - part ii

navigator

who? spencer reid (s3) x analyst!reader summary: what happens after your roommate and better half is shot on the doorstep of your building by her date. turns out, you're support network seems to have more nodes that you'd thought. content warnings: reference to guns + gunshot injury, surgery, blood word count: 2.1k a/n: realised after writing this that reader has more interactions with everyone on the team than she does with penelope oops

Spencer handed you a cup of tea, sitting down beside you in the hospital waiting room, the rest of the team milling around, waiting for news on Penelope’s surgery. You hadn’t said a word about what happened, the team relying on a police officer and a paramedic’s account while you sat there in catatonic shock, blood staining your white shirt, your hoodie doing more work in hiding it. You could still feel the blood on your hands, stained from pressing down on Penelope’s gunshot wound.

Spencer didn’t know what to do or say, just pressing the warm beverage into your hands, Emily and JJ murmuring in the corner.

“Has anyone told Morgan yet?”

“He isn’t answering the phone.”

“Is she?”

“Still in shock. Hasn’t said a word.”

“And Penelope?”

“All we know is a gunshot wound to the chest, and that they’re operating now.”

Spencer’s eyes are still on you, a shell of yourself, unable to reconcile the person he sees with the person he knows. He knows you deal with threats far greater than the ones they do — they’ve just come back from arresting a cannibal, you prevent military secrets getting out and uncover espionage attempts. But it’s from the safety of a digital interface, the day to day of it so mundane that it makes him want to pull his eyeballs out. Your job doesn’t get you shot. Technically, Penelope’s job shouldn’t have gotten her shot either.

No-one was paying attention to him, or to you, which is why he’s on his knees in front of you, aligning his gaze with yours, and does one of the few things he knows how to do; explaining. He put the tea down on the floor, taking hold of your hands, your eyes distant, your fingers cold. If he couldn’t do anything for Penelope, maybe there was something he could do for you.

“When the brain experiences trauma it has an affect on the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system.” He said the words quietly, a distraction technique to bring your focus to something, even if it was nothing. “The physiological response is a fight or flight response. When your brain is unable to process the situation, it freezes in an effort to protect your mind and body. You might feel numb, or cry, or rage. You might just sit there, emotionally unable to move. You might dissociate, and feel like nothing around you is real, or that it‘s actually happening to someone else.” He squeezed your hands, hoping for a response. It felt like you weren’t even there.

“I can’t imagine how scared you must be, and I’m not going to try and tell you that everything will be okay, because it may not-,” and he hated saying the words, they felt like a lie in his mouth, but it was the truth “-but whatever happens next, I am here. I won’t leave, not unless you ask me to.”

“I can’t lose her,” you whispered. Thank god, Spencer thought as he looked at you again, and while he knew there wasn’t anything he could say that would make it all better, he also knew that the fact that you were finally verbal was probably a positive. You hadn’t said a word in hours.

“I know,” he said quietly. The team still milled around, waiting, the hospital buzzing with activity, but he felt like the words were just his and yours, the intimacy of the two of you cocooned away from the world.

"I don't..." You struggled to get the words out. "She's all I have." He watched as the tears welled in your eyes, watched as they fell down your cheeks. He wanted to reach out, to brush them away, and he hesitated, wondering what he possibly could do to comfort you.

Instead he pulled you towards him, wrapping you in his arms, a hug, and hoped that he wasn’t being too forward, and you crushed yourself against his chest, hugging him back. He ran a hand up and down your back as he held you to him, his cheek against the side of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and he didn’t know if he was apologising for Penelope’s injuries, or the fact that he couldn’t save her, or that he hadn’t been there, or because there was nothing he could do to make it better. He was just sorry.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to background check this guy?” you asked, offering Penelope your eyeliner as she finished curling her hair and she rolled her eyes.

“God, you sound like Derek,” she retorted spitefully and you frowned. It was unlike her to be say his name with such anger, when it was usually said with love, fondness, occasional lust, and just in an overall dreamy fashion. A part of you had always wondered if there was more to their relationship than just platonic friendship.

“Alright,” you replied, letting it go. Penelope was a grown woman, she could make her own decisions… and was also equally capable of running a background check as, if not more, thorough as you would have. You tried not to look at the mess that your shared bathroom had turned into, make-up supplied and jewellery scattered over the counter, leaving her to do her thing. “And I better not get a text saying you’re bringing him upstairs,” you called out as you leave.

“This is just wrong,” you murmured, looking at Penelope’s pale, all but lifeless body, tubes running from her nose and arms, wires strapped to her chest, the suite silent but for the steady beep of the heart monitor. You still hadn’t moved from the foot of the bed, willing yourself not to cry. You were not going to be one of those family members who couldn’t get a grip of themselves. You especially refused to become a blubbering mess in front of her co-workers.

“I know,” Spencer said softly, wanting to take your hand again, but holding himself back. He still never knew where he stood with you. Hell, he didn’t know how to process what was going on for him — the only thing he knew he had to do was stabilise you, never mind himself.

You finally manage to put one step in front of the other, going towards Penelope and Spencer could see your hand shaking as you gingerly took hers, the way you blinked back tears, almost refusing to breathe because you were convinced the only thing that would come out would be a sob. Spencer swallowed, moving to draw the curtains over the windows, closing the doors so it was only the three of you in the room, and kept his back turned as you finally gave in to the squeezing grip your lungs had on your heart, sinking into the chair as you cried, gripping the hand that wouldn’t squeeze back.

You started awake when you felt a large hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently, and it’s Aaron standing over you. “Sorry,” you mustered, wiping away dried tear tracks and he simply pulled up a chair beside you.

“I know it’s been a long night,” he said softly, leaning on his knees, looking at you kindly. “But we need your help.” He watches you nod, taking in a deep breath.

“Anything,” you said, a lot calmer now.

“We need to get some kind of identification on this guy,” Aaron told you, his voice measured and even and a part of you was jealous you couldn’t be as calm as he was, and partly angry that he could be this calm with Penelope this way.

“She said his name was Colby,” you said, remembering the joke you had made when she told you.

“Like the cheese?” you asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically and she scoffed.

“Do not ruin this for me,” she retorted, pointing her laptop charger at you like a wand. “He’s cute and he actually likes me. Do you even remember the last time I’ve been asked out?”

“That doesn’t mean you should go out with anyone who asks,” you replied. “I mean, what kind of person doesn’t turn on auto-save?” It earns you a glare from her and you quieten, turning back to your book.

You shook your head, trying to focus on your screen, set up right beside Penelope, refusing to leave her side even as she slept, and neither did Derek or Spencer, the former practically breathing down your neck. You glanced up at Spencer, a plea in your eyes to get him off your back, and he makes a pitiful attempt of asking Derek if he wants to go get a coffee with him, which he denies and so Spencer shrugged, so you let out a breath, focusing on what you were doing.

“There’s nothing on a James Colby Baylor,” you said, sounding tired, running a hand through your hair, then settling it back on your keyboard.

“If he knew Penelope was FBI, then maybe he used a pseudonym,” Spencer offered, his hands in his pockets, standing across from you. “Try using the same combination of letters, JCB.”

“I’m gonna need more parameters than just three letters,” you retorted, looking up at him.

“Check anyone who rented a white sedan in the last 24 hours,” Derek said, still leaning over you and you desperately wanted to hit the both of them. Repeatedly. Instead, you check car rentals across the city matching the description, matching the restaurant that they had gone to, adding your facial recognition program to look for blonde men with blue eyes. “Plus some kind of job in the justice department. Try law enforcement, former military, stuff like that,” Derek added. “He knew enough to use legal terms, but not enough to know city attorneys don’t try criminal cases. Law school dropout, failed the bar exam—”

“Jason Clark Battle,” you told him, pulling up the picture of him and you swallowed. That was him. The guy you’d seen run away from the front of your building after you heard the gunshot. Your hands curled into fists, oblivious to Derek calling Aaron about it, charging out the door. Spencer didn’t particularly want to leave either of you, but he muttered a quick, ‘Be right back’ before disappearing.

You handed Derek a mug of coffee while Penelope slept in her own bed, the door left open in case she needed either of them. He’s set up on your couch, a blanket and pillows, his gun set on the coffee table, a single light left on so he can read the file. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” he asked you and you shrugged, taking a seat on the corner of the coffee table.

“He shot her on the doorstep, Morgan,” you said quietly. “If I hadn’t been at home…”

Morgan placed his hand on your knee, warm and comforting, and even though you had made fun of him being here, calling him Penelope’s ‘guard dog’, deep down, you were glad he was here. “There’s a lot that went wrong that night,” he said smoothly, his voice low. “Don’t eat at yourself worrying about how it could have been worse.”

You huffed a little. “You mean like you’ve been doing?” you asked, looking at him pointedly and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“You sure you aren’t a profiler?” he asked, noticing the slight hint of a smile on your face as you shrug.

“I guess we’re both wired the same way,” you said, instead of the retort you had lined up in your head. “Protecting the people we care about, blaming ourselves when they get hurt.” You glanced at Penelope’s room, her open door. “She’s all I have, Morgan.” And maybe it’s the late night, the anxiety coursing through your body, the thing that makes it impossible to sleep, that starts in your head and works its way to your chest, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. “She’s everything. My emergency contact, my medical proxy… Hell, if I died tomorrow, everything I own goes to her. She’s my family. If I lose her, I have no-one.”

Derek lets a beat pass, watching you, and you can tell he knows something you don’t, because he said, “You have people. Even if you can’t see them.” You frowned a little as he went back to his file, clearly unwilling to say more, and you’ve never been one to push into personal space. Instead, you go back to your room, left with his cryptic words.

[zepskies]

Ahhh thank you, my friend!!! 🥰 Omg I'm so glad you've heard of The Clock! (And oh YES, same with Vought Rising. 😭 I foresee so much SB fanfic coming soon from this fandom lmao.)

Love how the first line of this story is an easter egg. You never cease to amaze me, Alex 🤓

Hahaa I love you for catching that! It's funny, when I was trying to decide how much time after WWII to set this in and finally landed on November, I couldn't not do November 2. (Because I'm a nerd. 🤓)

*furrows brow* The Producers?? 🤔

Oh my God, you got me again!!! I freakin' LOVE The Producers (2005 version), and since it's set in New York (albeit in the 50s), I couldn't help a little easter egg. 😝 (again, big nerd alert)

Oh yes, we all remember that episode. Of course he would 😂 Poor Sam lol

lmfaoo Sam is so long-suffering, ain't he? 😂

Uh-huh... Dear Lord he needs help 🙈

Alllll the help. Pre-decent psychiatry, unfortunately. 😭

Btw, I've been doing my own 40s research for a fic and came across the contraception question. Idk why but condoms and methods of that time freak me tf out. Wondering what your experience with that was (if you came across it) lmao 😂

Oh dear lord yes, but I first learned about it from Downton Abbey. Condoms back then were the weirdest effing contraptions I've ever seen. As a woman it would scare me to have that come near me. 🤢

Ooof so rough 😮‍💨 PTSD and seeing all the dirty shit that goes on during a war is really brutal 😢 (My grandpa was in WWII and told a lot of stories when he was still alive) And then they were seperated too and didn't even know what happened to the other. Heartbreaking 😭

Oh wow, the stories your grandfather must have had. ❤️❤️ From what I've been able to research, it was truly horrific. And in the case of this story yep, compounded by the fact that Sam and Dean were separated for about three years with little to no way of knowing the other was still alive. 💔

The sass! Already love her 😂🩵

LOL she's got plenty of fire in her. ❤️‍🔥

*vibes* 😍 (even though I know MMM is set in 1958 lol)

Oh I love MMM!!! Love that comparison lol.

You don't know how fucking weak it makes me that he smokes in this. That vice will be the death of me 🫠🔥

Ahaha I remember from one of your comments on Break Me Down where SB was smoking (literally and figuratively)! 😜 I figured Dean smoking here would be true to the time period, and one of the few ways he can cope with his PTSD.

Aww yeah, Sam's just doing his job. Not easy having a vagina in 1945 and dealing with dicks... 🙄

Ughh exactly -- a major theme in this story. 😪

I get abusive vibes from shitty husband. There's more to it than cheating. Either he's emotionally abusive, physically or threathening to be. She seems like she wants to leave quick and quiet, fearing retaliation 👀 I loved how "damn" counted as cursing 😂 (Darn it!)

Ooh you're on the right track, unfortunately. 😢

And LOL gosh darn it, she just couldn't help herself! 😂😂

Yes, thank you!!! I knew Dean's spidey senses would turn on. (And I know that darn rat bastard can't hurt her now as long as soldier!Dean's around 💚)

Oh you already know, Dean's sharp enough to connect those dots. But darn right he's gonna be around to look out for her.

Melted 🫠 (I legit die every time I write "Sergeant Shaw" in TCF, but I married a military guy myself, so makes sense I can't resist a uniform and a rank 😂🥵)

Oooh I love it!! I can't resist a man in uniform either, and I'm not even married to one. 🫠 But while I'm incredibly behind in my reading, I haven't forgotten about the new chapters of The Exit Strategy, which I can't wait to dive into soon!!! 💜💜 (TCF is the prequel, right?)

I love the 1940s cadence, by the way! You can tell it's a different time period the way the characters speak, the words they choose, and how they phrase things. So well done, my friend! 👏👏

Aw thank you, Wayne!! That makes me so happy that you think so. 🥹 Especially after watching The Clock, I tried my best to make the reader's cadence feel like a woman from the time period (and Sam and Dean to some extent too). 💕

Mama's smelling mob activity... 🤌

Ooh you're not the first person to have made that observation. 😏

Such a Dean statement lol I do hope he won't feel so hopeless for long ☺️

Oooh shall see. 🥰 But I'm glad you thought it was a "Dean statement" loll, he's so self-deprecating sometimes. 🥲

Aww, they could've almost met. I love these little coincidences when people meet each other. It's fate 😍💕

Hahaa that's exactly what I was going for! (Imagine if they had met before she met Michael. 🥲)

I'm too busy plotting a gruesome murder in my head to properly get into how much I despise that guy 😂🙈

LOLL girl I don't blame you -- Michael is hot garbage, but it's a case of "got married hella quickly in wartime," so she didn't exactly know who he truly was when she married him. 😭

This was such an amazing start to this series! The storyline is so intriguing and the world-building is, well... simply otherworldly. You really took me on a journey to the 1940s here. Speechless, honestly 🩵 I so can't wait to see what else you have in store with this, but I think there will be lots of yelling from me lol 😅

I appreciate you so much, Wayne, thank you!! 🥹🥹 I'm so glad you enjoyed the start of this, and that it managed to transport you to the '40s. This chapter was a bit short, but it's a jumping off point for a lot more drama and hyjinks to come! (I anticipate lottts of yelling lmao) 💞💞

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: My day tomorrow is going to be a bit packed, so I decided to release this a bit early for you guys! So here we go! The first chapter of yet another new series, my first ever 1940s AU. 🥰 I hope you have fun on this one, because I sure did. Again, very much inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. 💜

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Cry Me a River” by Ella Fitzgerald

Word Count: 3.9K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, PTSD, historical tidbits

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Legal Grounds

November 2, 1945

Dean idly read the pamphlet stacked with others on his brother’s desk, which advertised his new and successful enterprise.

Law Offices of Winchester, Bialystock & Bloom

What do you know? His brother had his own office, his own business, and his name on a pamphlet.

Dean couldn’t help but curl a finger around a steel ball on the abacus sitting at the head of the mahogany desk, right next to Sam’s nameplate.

He let it fly. The abacus began to clack as one ball hit the other.

Sam looked up from the deposition he was writing to give his brother a wry brow raise.

“So this is what you do, huh?” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.

Without his jacket, his suspenders were on display over his shoulders. His red pinstripe tie was still in place, but his white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows. Meanwhile, his brother preferred to keep himself more presentable with his sleeves down to his wrists. Jacket on.    

Dean glanced around the office, nodding at the line of bookshelves behind Sam, framing him as the bookish academic he’d always been. There was limited seating in here though, just a spare chair in front of the desk, and another to the right of it. Dean stood on the opposite side.

“If you’re bored, all you have to do is say so,” Sam said. “Which is strange, considering we’re smack dab in the middle of a city that never sleeps.”

He was right, Dean could concede. His little brother had given him a veritable list of things to do in New York City: visit the park, go to the zoo, see a picture show, visit a nightclub, or sample a host of restaurants that Sam knew Dean would probably enjoy.

He’d seen a lot of this place in the week that he’d been here visiting Sam, but a good deal of it he’d either spent alone, or with any willing young lady Dean came across, thanks to the demands of this office. If he was honest, entertaining young ladies was eating into the wallet in his trouser pocket, and the hustle and bustle was starting to be a little much for him.

“You don’t get tired of it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the out there beyond them. “The, uh…the lights, the noise, all the people?”

Sam picked his head up from his paperwork to consider the question. “No, I like it. Keeps my mind busy, and…I guess it makes me feel alive, you know?”

Dean supposed he could understand that, so he nodded.

Sam wasn’t fooled though. He thought he could tell what was running through his brother’s head, watching him fidget, and turn his head a bit sharply when a bus honked loudly outside the office’s glass doors as it thundered past.

It had only been two months since the end of the war. Two months since he and Dean met back in their family home in Lawrence, Kansas after three years fighting on two different fronts, in two different countries.

Both of them had enlisted, but Sam had spent most of his time in London while he was deployed, helping British Intelligence. Dean had clawed his way out of Normandy, and later, out of the Ardennes—the last offensive before the end.

Their experiences might as well have been worlds apart, but one thing remained the same: it had been three years in which neither brother knew if they’d see each other again.

Now, Sam saw the signs. Dean seemed a bit jumpy, overstimulated, but willing to be here to spend a little more time with Sam before he went back home. Guilt prickled in Sam’s gut. 

“I’ve got some work here to finish up, but afterwards let’s go to dinner,” he suggested. “Maybe see a show?”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smile. “You’re burning both ends of the candle. You know that, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock on one of the glass doors—at the entrance to the small building. Their heads turned, and through the open door of his office, they spotted you standing there in the evening light. You wore a wide-brimmed hat on your head and a scarf underneath, wrapped over your hair and under your chin to shield your face. You knocked again with a hand covered by a leather glove, more persistently.

Cocking his head in confusion, Sam stood from his desk and left the room to let you in. Dean hung back and sat on the corner of the desk to wait. He withdrew a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket as he did so, but he heard you talking with his brother by the door.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed, miss,” Sam informed you.

“It’s still two minutes until closing. At least, according to my watch.”

“…Well, I suppose you’ve got me there.”

“So can I come in? I need to speak to a lawyer.”

“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, sir.” Your tone was firm, and it more than implied that you wouldn’t be moved. Sam paused then, perhaps to take a steeling breath.

“All right. Come with me, please.”

You later followed behind him through the hallway and into the office. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arms crossed, Dean took note of you. He subtly glanced down at your crème-colored blouse, neatly tucked into the long, burgundy skirt (with lipstick to match), your modest, classy heels, and the way you wore your hair. His brows subtly raised. He’d met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn’t seen a lady like you in quite some time.

Should’ve shaved this morning. The thought was accompanied by the way he swiped a subtle hand over his prickly chin.

You gave him a cursory glance in turn, and offered a polite, “Hello.”

He stood from the desk and switched his cigarette to his other hand, so he could shake yours.

“Hey there. Dean Winchester,” he said. He offered a smile with no small amount of charm. “Pleased to meet you…”

You dutifully gave him your first name only. He found that a little strange, but you soon slipped your hand out of his and focused on the nameplate on the desk, followed by Sam himself.

“So you’re brothers,” you realized. “Do you work together?”

Dean scoffed. “Nope, I’m just here to distract him.”

Sam tossed him a sidelong glance. There was a subtle edge of bitter truth in there somewhere, and you didn’t seem to miss it. You looked between the two men, a hint wary.

“Well, as I said, I’m here to speak to the solicitor,” you said. 

“That would be me,” Sam nodded. He went to his desk and sat down behind it, gesturing for you to do the same in front of him. You obliged him, smoothing your hands down your skirt once you were seated. “How can I help you?”

You met his eyes with a directness that surprised him a little.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said.

To say it shocked the room would be an understatement. Behind you, Dean gave his brother a pair of raised brows. Sam didn’t allow himself to react too much in order to remain professional, but he still tilted his head, blinking, before he focused on you again.

“What’s your husband’s name?” he asked.

“Michael. Michael Milligan.”

“Why do you want a divorce, Mrs. Milligan?” 

Here, your gaze fell to the folded hands in your lap. 

“I have reason to believe he’s been unfaithful,” you quietly replied.

Once again, there was a pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said. His sympathy was genuine, because he could see the way you’d hesitated to say the words, like they embarrassed you, shamed you, and saddened you all at once. 

“But I have to ask,” he added, “do you have proof?”

Dean glanced his way, his brow raising once again. Sam knew what he was thinking, just as he saw how you frowned as well. But there was a reason why he asked, and it wasn’t to be unkind.

You sighed. “What kind of proof?” 

“Pictures. Letters. A witness. Something of legal standing that we can use as leverage and as grounds to grant you a divorce, whether he wants it or not,” Sam said. 

You let out another heavy breath through your nose. “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Then what makes you so sure he’s steppin’ out?” Dean chimed in. By now he was leaning against the wall, off to the side where he could smoke with the window cracked open. It let in the sounds of cars and distant honking, people traversing the sidewalks. 

You turned in your seat to give him a tight look. “If you must know, there’ve been…signs. I won’t trouble you with the details, but I’m sure.”

You met Dean’s gaze, and then Sam’s firmly. 

“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.

“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”

Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”

Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.

“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”

You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.

“Mr. Winchester,” you began. “I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name.”

Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers,” you said. “The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse. Despite your outburst, the tears clinging to your lashes stirred both men.

“I understand, Mrs. Milligan,” Sam said. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

He began to look for his handkerchief, but you retrieved one of your own from your purse and quickly dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. You were embarrassed.

“What about your fee?” you said, withdrawing your checkbook. “I, um…I have a little money stashed away. I’ve always worked, you see.”

Sam nodded and went over what his rate would be going forward. Once the two of you came to an agreement, you signed the first check right then and there, even though he felt bad for even taking it from you.

You were still sniffling, and twice you dabbed under your eyes to make sure your face was dry. When you handed over the check, your hands shook, just a little. Sam wouldn’t tell you that he discounted his usual rate.  

Again, he mentioned that he would need some time first to investigate your husband and begin collecting evidence for your case. He asked you for any documents you could safely bring him of your finances, for example. You agreed to do an investigation of your own.

“Just be careful,” Dean cautioned. He was getting an idea of what kind of man your husband was, but Dean couldn’t be too sure of what the man was capable of. He’d hate to hear of a girl like you getting hurt over a few papers.

Dean put out the bud of his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the windowsill. He pushed off the wall to approach where you and Sam were getting to your feet. You gave Dean a nod of acknowledgement.

“I will,” you agreed. “Thank you both. I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time, but I’ll be heading home now.”

“Did you take a bus or a taxi?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I walked,” you replied, and you checked your watch as you gathered up your purse. You headed for the coatrack, but Dean got there first, helping you into your beige wool coat. It went nicely with the burgundy you had on, namely on your painted lips.

“Thank you,” you said to him, but you still didn’t smile. You were a hint demurer now. It seemed with Sam’s promised help, the fire had dimmed behind your eyes and your tongue.

“How about I give you an escort, make sure you get home okay?” Dean found himself offering. “It’s getting pretty late on a Friday.”

Sam shot him a knowing look, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on your face.

You hesitated. “It’s a bit far though. Out of your way, I’m sure.”

“All the more reason that you shouldn’t go it alone at this time of night,” he argued.

You considered his offer, and him, with a quick perusal. You seemed to be judging for yourself if he was trustworthy. Dean kept his posture straight, yet relaxed. Maybe he’d liked what he saw the moment he took you in, but after hearing your situation, he felt for you. It really was just an honest offer to walk you home.

“Where did you serve?” you asked. “The Army, the Navy, or the Air Forces?”

The question took him off guard for a beat, but he answered you.

“The Army,” he replied.

“Your rank?”

“I was a sergeant, ma’am.”

You looked at him a little more shrewdly, then you relaxed.

“I might’ve guessed,” you said. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s go then.”

You buttoned up your coat and turned to leave the office. Dean shot his little brother a raise of his brows and a what do ya know? kind of smile. He grabbed his dark brown jacket and hat and followed you out.

Sam’s smile was more reserved, with a shake of his head. He closed the door behind you and Dean and locked it. He still had some work he wanted to finish before tomorrow, and Dean’s little show of chivalry would give him time to do it.

Dean had his hands in his coat pockets as he walked with you down the long city sidewalk. Night had drawn into the November sky, but with all these lights, he couldn’t see many stars. It was also cold as all hell. The frigid wind slapped at him every time they turned the corner of a building, snapping right into his bones.

Still, he supposed there was a kind of attractiveness to the city at night. The stores and their signs were all lit up gold and other neon colors. Couples and families walked together, all done up nice for wherever dinner reservation or movie they were trying to get to. It begged the question of what your husband was doing right now if he didn’t notice his wife out at this time of night.

“Where’s your husband tonight, if I might ask?” said Dean.

You shot him a look, reading between his lines.

“He claims to be working late virtually every night of the weekdays,” you said, “but he usually comes home stinking of alcohol.” Your eyes dimmed, even with the pretty lights shining in them. “He was in the Army as well. A corporal. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back home, and I know that… He doesn’t sleep very well. And do you know, he had a hard time finding work for a while too. Luckily, he has his father’s business to fall back on.”

Dean tried not to show how much your words resonated with him. He didn’t think it a good thing to have common ground with your husband, if he was the kind of man you said he was.

“Yeah? What’s his business?” he asked.

“He manages a meat production plant, of all things,” you said.

“Ah, located in the Meat Packing District, I presume?”

“You’d presume right.”

Dean nodded. “I get it. I inherited the family home back in Lawrence. I just need to figure out what’s next.”

“Lawrence?”

“Kansas.”

“Oh, the Midwest,” you inclined your head. “What’s it like there?”

Dean scoffed. “Dusty.”

You almost laughed at that. At least it earned him your first smile of the night.

“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do for work?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “Not just yet. Didn’t plan that far, you know?”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Hmm. Guess I didn’t see the point,” he replied with a mild shrug. It hid a deeper, darker well inside him. The part of him that hadn’t thought he’d make it back home after the war.  

You turned to him then, and you saw it behind his eyes. The two of you walked in silence for a little while as the neighborhood blocks began to shift and change, becoming somewhat quieter, more residential. Dean put himself between you and the sidewalk when a taxi zoomed by too close to the curb, resting a hand on the small of your back for protection.

Part of you trilled inside at the small touch, but you immediately beat that reaction down. Dean Winchester was an attractive man, to be sure. His hair was a lighter brown than his brother’s, and shorter too. He had an air of roguishness about him, even though he’d been perfectly pleasant so far.

But by the way he eyed you when you came into the law office, you had a strong feeling he was a flirt. You had no room for that in your life, and not only because you were still a married woman.

Yet, there was something about him that…well, made you curious.

“I was a nurse,” you said eventually, earning his attention. “I was there when they liberated Paris.”

Dean turned to you with newfound interest lighting his green eyes. “You were at Normandy.”

You nodded. “For a while. Almost a year before D-Day.”

Dean let out a short, if humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s where I was. At that time, at least,” he said. You gave him a similar look; respect, and perhaps finding a kindred spirit.

“I did what I could do before, during, and afterwards,” you said. “I think that’s all we can do now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me Dean,” he said. “If you like.”

A second smile almost tugged at your lips. You nodded in agreement.

“Dean,” you said.

In another ten minutes, he was walking you up to your porch at your apartment building. You travelled up the four small steps, while Dean stopped at the second one. For the first time, you had the vantage point above him as you turned on your heel to face him. You were about to thank him when he shook his head, scoffing.

“This guy must be dumb, deaf, and blind, sweetheart,” he said.

Your face warmed in a blush, and you gave a rueful smile when you realized what he meant. He was looking up at you like someone who couldn’t understand your plight. You knew the feeling.

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” you said.  

His brows furrowed. “Do what?” 

“Try to make me feel better,” you said, scuffing the toe of your sensible heels against the brick platform. Dean crossed his arms. 

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the fact of the matter is, Sergeant, words don’t move me anymore.” You picked up your gaze from the ground, and you met his. “Flattery is just a pretty way of lying, and I’ve grown to really, truly hate lying.” 

It took him a moment, but Dean nodded.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said. He had to stop himself before he proved your point with a smart word on your pretty smile. Although, it wouldn’t have been a lie. He tipped his hat up. “Goodnight then, Mrs. Milligan.” 

You stopped him from leaving with just your voice. 

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

He gave you a charming grin and a more casual soldier’s salute. Then he stuck his hands back in his pockets, turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way he came. You couldn’t help but watch him go for a second or two. His legs were slightly bowed under his slacks, you noticed.

With a blush, you shook your head to rid yourself of those silly thoughts. You closed the door.

That night, Michael came home late, as usual—this time at two in the morning. He reeked of alcohol, also per usual, but this time when he rolled over towards you in bed to say goodnight, you stiffened. He also smelled like a woman’s perfume. Expensive stuff. 

This was one of those signs you hadn’t wanted to tell Sam Winchester. Frankly, it was crude and embarrassing.

“Sorry it’s so late, darling. Got held up,” he said, kissing your shoulder through your nightgown. His fingers played with the ends of your hair while you laid facing away from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You were fighting every instinct you had inside you that wanted to recoil from his touch and bolt out of the bed. When just a few months ago, his touch was all you craved, almost desperately so. 

“Where were you?” you asked. Somehow, you kept your voice steady and calm. “You weren’t at the office all this time.”

“Had a couple of drinks with the guys after,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. The night got away from us, but, uh…I’ll be home on time for dinner tomorrow.”

With your back turned to him, you were able to roll your eyes.

“What’d you make tonight, outta curiosity?” he asked.

“Egg salad sandwiches,” you replied flatly. 

“Hmm. No real loss there then.” 

Your teeth clenched. “If I thought you were actually going to be home when you said you would, maybe I would make a rump roast with all the fixings.” 

Michael paused, but then, he grasped your shoulder, slowly turned you around in the bed until you were facing him. His face was sterner. 

“Excuse me?” 

You remained quiet. Your gaze travelled downwards, avoiding his.

Michael huffed, shaking his head. “Sometimes you got a real mouth on you. One of these days, you just might regret it.” 

He turned his back on you, laying on his side. You did the same while trying to stem your tears.

When did this become your life?

AN: Oof, sorry for all that angst at the end there, but I hope you liked the first chapter! Did you enjoy soldier!Dean and soldier/lawyer!Sam? Do you want to find a dark alley for Michael yet? 😅

And are you ready for what's coming up next? 😘

Next Time:

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

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[merakiui]

jade is absolutely getting off to the thought of drugging you up with mushrooms and then using them to fuck you

Oh, most definitely. 😌

“You’re an ash-hole,” is the first thing to tumble out of your mouth. The insult isn’t nearly as biting as you’d hoped it would be, for the slurred way in which you pronounce the expletive dulls its sharpness tenfold. It does earn you a quirk of the mouth from Jade. The exact opposite of what you wanted.

You’re sweating out of your skin, body temperature rocket-high. It almost rivals the stifling humidity of the off-campus woods, which you think might be your resting place if whatever shit Jade spiked your salad with stops your heart. Pre-hike salad, your foot!

He’s found a comfortable clearing, the lush grass more inviting than the cool breeze tickling your cheek. It feels like the wind has a dozen tiny tongues and they’re all lapping at your face. With a shiver, you smack Jade’s arm away when he offers to ease you down. The world is breathing beneath you. The tree trunk you prop yourself against has a heartbeat, and you watch the lines in the bark undulate like saltwater waves.

“As a member of the Mountain Lovers’ Club,” Jade says, lowering to his knees in front of you, his backpack now shrugged off. When you blink, he’s right in front of you next, checking to make sure you’re still lucid. Mostly. “You must be able to discern dangerous flora from the safe ones. The mushrooms mixed in with your salad have hallucinogenic properties. In small amounts, they’re fine. Quite the exciting trip, one might say. But there are some species that have hazardous effects…”

You squeeze your eyes shut again and inhale a shuddering breath. There are spiders beneath your eyelids and in your skin. It prickles. You move to slap nothing off your arm and find that, in the seconds or maybe minutes your world has been turned over, your shorts have been shucked down to your ankles. Jade’s spidery digits creep in close, parting your legs, sliding along your hole through the fabric. You’d kick him if your body wasn’t so keen on melting like candle wax. All you can do is wilt and take in big gulps of air as he presses in, fingers curling beneath your underwear, prodding inside such a private, sensitive place. You’re not sure how much time passes. You swim in and out of consciousness, occasionally snapping back to yourself like a boomerang.

When you come to, it’s with a keening cry and he hums, sounding quite pleased. You’re not sure how or when it happened, but you came around his fingers. The embarrassment doesn’t settle for long, not when your skeleton is jittering in its fleshy confines. You think you might be sick. Something is crawling up your throat. Hands? Vomit? It feels weird. Just what was in that salad? What terrible mushroom did he experiment with this time?

And that’s just it. Everything he does is experimental. Never on himself. You’d quite like that—to give him a literal taste of his own medicine and watch him crumple. What a glorious day that would be.

Like a surgeon, Jade slips a pair of latex gloves on. For a horrified moment, you wonder if he really is going to bury you out here. But instead he procures a particularly sizable mushroom from a plastic bag. It looks familiar, but right now there are a dozen names rushing through your mind and none of them can be correct. You watch with even more horror as he tears a little square package open and slides the condom over the mushroom’s stipe, all business. Perfectly clinical.

“Today, we’re going to learn to identify mushrooms and their uses.” He beams. “Starting with this one.”

“I…” Your tongue feels all wrong. Numb. Too long. And then too short. You try to pronounce your next words, but they come out in a messy splutter.

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s edible.” Jade smiles angelically.

Gee, thanks for the help. That narrows it down by a lot, you think, sarcastic.

“Maybe this will jog your memory,” he adds, and when you blink the stipe is pushing against your puckered hole. His fingers are wrapped gently around the cap of the mushroom, holding it steady.

“Wha…” You attempt to crawl back from him, but the tree holds you firm. “Jade—”

“It’s a very popular ingredient in soups and risotto,” he continues, undeterred in his approach.

You dig your fingers into the ground and rip up clumps of grass. It feels wrong. Intrusive. This strange, foreign thing. You squirm weakly, but it doesn’t shake him off.

Dunno, you think, your mouth moving mutely.

“It’s part of the genus Boletus.”

Oh, you hate him something fierce. This smart-ass eel. As if you’d know the scientific name or the genus and whatever-heenus-gleenus. You’ll kill him.

Not really. Because who could kill Jade Leech? Not you.

But the feeling comes something close to death as you imagine yourself weaponizing the blazing sun in your scowl and burning a hole through him like he’s an ant under a magnifying glass. Instead, your expression falls and you give a short, sweet whine. The mushroom presses in shallowly. Jade watches with a delight that can only be described as exhilaration. His smile is preternatural.

It turns out it’s a penny bun. Boletus edulis. He tells you that halfway into working the thick mushroom in and out of you.

“I’m sure you’ll have better luck with the next one,” he assures, and then you see it. The many mushrooms packed neatly away in his backpack, each one packaged in that chilling, serial-killer-like precision only Jade Leech could have.

[absentwriterdoll]

There are tools, apparatuses... toasters, exercise equipment, instruments, or computers... I wonder if they can be a doll. Or like, if there would be an experimental witch who would make that happen.

Dolls can exist as anything, I heard. And their features I could peek at from the writings... I can't stop seeing usual inanimate objects the same way anymore.

"A sort of love."

There's a sort of love that exists between an object and its witch.

Plushies that we sleep with, figurines on shelves... A voice recorder used as an mp3 player, a pencil that is named... A phone with cracks running all across its screen...

Keychains that one wears anywhere one goes.

Things that exist in these ones' daily lives that, to most, one wouldn't give a second thought of whether it works or not, or even whether it's present or not.

Except what if they could think and experience just like these ones? What stories would they have to tell? Would one have been gentle to them? Or would their stories speak of cruelty? How hard one worked to try and fix them... Or whether they were replaced the moment they stopped working?

A lightbulb that goes out and never changed...

Until some years later when one finally gets back on their feet.

There's a sort of love there that exists between one and an object.

Sometimes replacements need to happen. Like moving from a deprecated, dying forum on its last legs to a discord server... or perhaps someplace even newer.

Sometimes those replacements are inevitable.

But the memories remain.

Plushies that have been with us for years... Figurines to represent our favorite characters... A damaged voice recorder that still runs if used in a specific way... A pencil whose chrome has rubbed away to brass... A phone whose screen was only ever replaced because the pixels started dying en masse... Keychains that have seen years of someone life...

A refrigerator that finally, at last, stopped working and refused to be fixed... A car that saw new life thanks to a tireless mechanic's ministrations... A book that sees itself read time and again... A hairtie that one bought copies of just in case it ever got lost... A favorite shirt that one wears almost everyday...

A mural of pictures on a wall.

...

The memories remain.

...

And there's a sort of love that exists between someone and their "inanimate" objects.

This one likes to believe that this love makes this world all the better to exist in.

[fkinkindagauche]

A Helping Hand

We are back with the deranged Harringrove Merfolk of Lake Michigan AU. This one is a fill for @harringrovewinterbingo, square B1 - "coffee shop".

Rating: Explicit | WC: 2,537 | Tags: AU - No Upside Down, AU - Merpeople, Enemies to lovers who are still enemies, hand jobs, mutual masturbation | CW: None for this one.

The fic can also be read on AO3. The first two installments in this AU are The First Taste and Not a Fish, Out of Water. While this can be read without going through those, reading those will enhance your experience!

Many, many thanks to @dame-zoom-a-lot for continuing to beta this series! Please check out their awesome Tumblr posts of Murray's field notes, set in this AU: Day 0 Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4

"What the fuck is that?" Billy asked, pointing at the steaming cardboard cup held tightly between Steve's hands.

"It's coffee," Steve replied, like that told Billy fucking anything. Harrington could be so goddamn snotty. "I got it from that little shop." He pointed behind him at one of the storefronts lining the dinky little main street. Steve sat down next to Billy on the bench, looking at the deserted, snow-covered park in front of them.

They'd spent the day canvasing this stupid town looking for El, coming up with nothing, as usual. They'd been here for a week, and hadn't gotten a single lead. Made Billy wonder if Max had been wrong about El's stupid little boyfriend living in Hawkins. El was a merperson, too. She should have been as clueless as Steve and Billy had been upon first coming out of the lake and entering the human world. How was she managing to hide so well?

A weird scent wafted from Steve's cup, like nothing Billy had ever smelled before. He wrinkled his nose. "What is that?"

"I told you. It's coffee," Steve repeated with a little smirk, taking a sip. He was bouncing his legs a mile a minute, the motion in his peripheral vision was driving Billy nuts.

"What. The fuck. Is coffee?" Billy grumbled through clenched teeth.

Steve stopped bouncing his legs for a second and looked at Billy. "It's a drink adult humans seem to like," he said, speaking much faster than usual." He didn't wait for Billy to reply before continuing. "Apparently it's some sort of stimulant, but you can mix it with all sorts of sugary things. It's like a hot dessert that gives you lots of energy. You wanna try it?"

Steve stuck the hot cup out jerkily, nearly splashing Billy in the face.

Billy sent him a suspicious glare. "You tryin' to poison me again?" Steve had, in fact, poisoned Billy once when they were fifteen after Billy's team absolutely obliterated Steve's in obelisks.

Steve rolled his eyes. "That was only a little poison, definitely not enough to kill you. Just give you a little tummy ache."

"A little tummy ache?" Billy spluttered. "I was sick for days!"

"Well you should've thought about that before you broke my arm," Steve insisted.

Billy crossed his arms over his stomach and harrumphed.

Steve pointedly took a sip of the coffee then held it out to Billy. "See? No poison."

Billy grabbed the cup. He took a big gulp, just to be sure Harrington couldn't accuse him of being a pussy. Then he instantly spat it out all over the snow in front of him.

"That's disgusting!" he yelped. "It's, like, trying to be sweet and failing."

Steve let out a full-throated laugh, his head falling back. Billy stared at the line of his throat. He could kiss it. Fuck no.

Billy shoved the cup back into Steve's hand. "Enough dicking around," he said, voice gruff. "Let's go walk around the high school again."

They took off in the direction of the school, walking down mostly deserted streets. Billy thought he'd get to see actual cities, filled with all sorts of people. Instead, he was stuck in this backwater. It figured that his first trip above water was turning out to be a total drag.

Steve stopped twice more for coffee as they walked around that day. He would not shut up, talking a mile a minute, fueled by the coffee. Billy was ready to murder Steve by the time they got back to the motel where Murray had set them up before he'd fucked back off to his own town.

He took a long shower, to give himself time away from Steve's non-stop yapping. It also gave him time to further explore the discovery he'd made a few days ago. As the warm water loosened up his back, he looked down at his dick.

They'd been prepped on human anatomy during a course in school in case any of them ended up getting sent on a mission up top. So he knew that in addition to its excretory functions, his dick was also an external reproductive organ. But he hadn't known that touching it would feel so good. If he went at it long enough, he could get to a sensation almost like when he came from having his stalks or core stimulated in his mer body. It was kinda messy, but worth it. Especially if he did it in the shower, where the mess would just go down the drain.

He squirted some soap into his hand and grabbed his cock. It had already started to harden, just from him thinking about doing this. It only took a few pumps of his fist and then it was fully hard.

He kept stroking, twisting a bit every few strokes at the top. He tried very hard to keep his mind carefully blank, to just focus on the feeling of pleasure building in his lower abdomen. But he kept seeing little flashes of Harrington, like he did every fucking time he tried this.

It started with thinking about Steve's neck when he'd thrown back his head and laughed that morning, about how the two moles on his throat shifted. He thought about the laugh itself, the tone of it, so free and easy. He thought about Steve's lips, open enough to show his bright white teeth. Thoughts of Steve's lips made Billy's mind drift to the night of the midwinter party, before they'd come up onto land.

Billy gave up trying to avoid the thoughts and sank into the memory, pumping his hand over his cock furiously. He remembered the way Steve's lips had felt against his, so plush and soft despite the cut that Billy had elbowed into them earlier that night. Remembered the way Steve's stalks had felt against his core. He kept going, stroking his cock until his whole body clenched up with pleasure and the weird white liquid was shooting out of it.

He came down slowly, pulling in deep breaths. He made sure the stuff was all washed down the drain, wondering what the hell was in it. Eggs? Spores? Their class hadn't covered how reproduction worked for humans. They had only even talked about dicks so they'd know how to piss, and the reproductive aspect was just briefly mentioned.

Steve was practically vibrating when Billy came out of the bathroom. He had another fucking coffee in his hand.

"Are you sure that's a good idea before sleeping?" Billy asked, nodding to the cup as he toweled off his hair. Steve's eyes skittered over Billy's body as one of his legs bounced.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Steve asked.

Billy laughed. "Steve. It's a stimulant. Meant to keep you awake."

Steve frowned, like he hadn't thought of that before.

"Sometimes I wonder if there's anything going on in there," Billy said, flicking Steve's forehead.

Steve batted away Billy's hand, slamming his coffee down on the bedside table. "Fuck off, Billy."

Billy shrugged, sliding into his bed and turning on the TV. At least there were two beds at the motel. And a TV.

He loved watching the TV. It showed him the types of experiences he'd thought he would be getting coming up here - cities with huge buildings, beautiful humans, gun fights, car chases. Why was none of that happening in Hawkins?

Steve got up to dump his final coffee down the drain in the bathroom. He settled back in the bed, but got back up just minutes later to pace again. Then he went back to the bed. Then he got up again. Billy lost count of the times Steve tossed and turned in the bed only to get up again and pace.

"My chest feels funny," Steve complained while Billy was trying to watch a large bald man drive a car between two skyscrapers in a desert. "Like my heart's beating really fast."

"Do I look like I care?" Billy asked, looking over at him with what he hoped was an annoyed expression.

Steve let out an exaggerated sigh and flopped back down onto his bed. "Do you think I could die of coffee poisoning?"

"One can only hope," Billy muttered, jacking up the volume on the TV. Billy turned off the TV once the movie was over, settling into his bed to sleep.

"My stomach hurts," Steve whispered into the darkness. Billy threw a pillow at him.

Billy was just drifting off to sleep when Steve sighed loudly and flopped around in his bed.

"Harrington," Billy grumbled. "Calm the fuck down and go to sleep."

"I don't think I can," Steve whispered. "I think I'm gonna be awake forever."

Billy rolled his eyes at the melodrama. "Just fuckin' try, okay? Or at least be quiet about being awake."

Billy fell asleep pretty soon after that, but was woken up some time later by a loud crash and a muttered, "oops" from Harrington.

He sat up, turning on the lamp on the bedside table. Steve was standing by the window. A large book was on the floor beside him.

"What are you doing?" Billy snarled.

"Reading! To try to go to sleep," Steve explained. "It's a book by someone named Gideon, I found it in the bedside table. Not sure what a Bible is. But it's got some pretty brutal stuff going on."

Billy knew he was going to need to resort to drastic measures if he was going to get any sleep tonight. He could knock Steve out with that fat book he'd dropped on the floor. But if he didn't knock him out with the first hit, they'd end up beating the shit out of each other and that would get messy, and probably just rile Steve up even more. He did know one thing that was messy but much more calming. "Look, have you tried pulling on your dick?"

Steve gave him a very apprehensive look. "Have I tried what?"

"Your dick," Billy repeated, pulling the covers down and motioning to his. Steve looked down at his own dick. Neither of them wore clothes when they were in the motel room. They both still hated clothes.

"Why would I pull on it?" Steve asked. "Are you fucking with me?"

Billy sighed. "No, I'm not fucking with you. I figured it out the other day. Has it ever been, like, hard when you've woken up?" Steve nodded. "Well, if you pull on it a bunch, it gets hard like that, and if you keep going, it will get to the point where it feels like an orgasm."

Steve frowned. "Seriously?" He didn't look convinced. He probably thought this was some prank Billy was pulling.

Billy took his own cock in hand and started to stroke.

"Wh- what are you doing?" Steve asked, moving back to his bed and sitting on the edge.

"Showing you. Since you won't believe me." It had been long enough since his shower that he was able to get hard again. He let go for a moment to squirt a little lotion on his hand from a bottle on his bedside table. He threw it at Steve, who caught it on instinct.

"It feels better with something to smooth the glide," Billy explained. He took himself back in hand, moving his palm up and down the length.

Steve still looked incredibly suspicious, but intrigued. He put some lotion on his hand, then reached for his own cock. Billy watched as he stroked it a few times, trying to mimic Billy but not quite managing. His eyes kept darting back and forth between Billy's hand and his own, like he was trying to get it exactly right. The dumbass was thinking way too much, he hadn't even gotten hard yet.

"You're really bad at this, Harrington," Billy said with a huff. He walked over to Steve's bed and sat down beside him. "Watch from this angle." Billy resumed his stroking. His shoulder brushed against Steve's with each stroke. He could smell the soap Steve used (he'd insisted on buying a fancy brand that Billy refused to use), could feel the warmth coming off of Steve's skin.

Billy's cock was plenty hard now, but Steve's was still flagging. His hand movements were jerky, and his fist was too loose.

"May I?" Billy asked, motioning down to Steve's flaccid cock with his hand.

Steve shrugged. "Fine. But I don't think it works. I probably got a defective one."

Billy rolled his eyes. "No, you're just bad at it." He put one of his hands over Steve's, guiding the other man's hand in a few gentle strokes. "Squeeze a little harder, like this," Billy said, squeezing on Steve's hand. "Then sort of… twist it every once in a while."

He felt Steve's cock getting hard beneath their hands. "Oh," Steve muttered, surprised. "Okay." Billy let go since Steve seemed to get the hang of it. He stayed sitting next to Steve, reaching his hand back to his own cock.

He looked up briefly and froze. There was a blush spreading across Steve's chest, up his neck and onto his cheeks. Billy wanted to kiss that flushed skin, lick up the little beads of sweat building at Steve's collarbone. Fuck. Why did his brain have to keep doing this to him? Steve was not attractive. He was an insufferable privileged rich kid with too many moles. (Cute moles.)

Steve was panting now, the sound filling the small room. "Shit. This feels good," Steve mumbled. Billy watched the muscles of Steve's belly work as he thrust his hips up into his fist. He wanted to bite them.

"That's it," Billy encouraged, feeling pleasure build in his own body as he watched Steve. "Keep going." A bead of sweat started to drip down one of Steve's pecs and Billy couldn't fucking help himself. He bent his head forward and licked.

Steve yelped and shuddered as the white liquid shot out of his cock. Most of the mess stayed on his stomach but a few drops reached his face. "What the fuck?" Steve screamed, looking down at his dick in shock. "What the hell was that?"

Billy laughed, coming back to himself. Hopefully Steve would just forget that lick had ever happened in his shock. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that part."

Steve shoved Billy's shoulder with his free hand. "You forgot to mention that weird stuff would squirt out of my dick when I came?"

Billy shrugged. "Slipped my mind."

Steve wiped the liquid off his face. "It's sticky," he said in disgust. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Billy admitted. "Try to go to sleep now, princess."

Billy got up and slid back into his own bed as Steve went to the bathroom to wash himself off. Steve's breathing evened out quickly once he got back into his bed, so at least Billy would be able to get some sleep tonight.

He reached beneath his covers, taking his cock in hand again. If he thought of the way Steve's skin had tasted while he was touching himself, and the noises Steve had made when he'd come, that was fine. No one needed to know.

Ocean divider by @/saradika-graphics

[littlemourningstarr]

Do You Mourn the Passing of the Hours?

Former Professor Emmrich Volkarin had spent years settled into a quiet life running a small, quint flower shop in Nevarra. He expected that any excitement was far behind him. Enter, Lucanis Dellamorte. Professional assassin. Antivan Crow. A possessed man. A possible bad decision to take in Lucanis after an assassination goes slightly off kilter, and suddenly Emmrich finds his life is full of far more excitement than he'd ever had. But maybe, for the man who had begun to experience the world through a cloudy window of fascination but never truly partaking, the excitement would remind him what it was like to truly be alive again.

Chapter Eleven!

Pairing: Emmrich Volkarin x Lucanis Dellamorte, Emmrich Volkarin x Spite, Emmrich Volkarin x Lucanis Dellamorte x Spite

Read below or on AO3!

Tags: tags to be added as we go, modern AU, flower shop AU, demonology AU, former professor Emmrich, still assassin Lucanis, physical hurt/comfort, scent kink, Spite is a little freak, mentioned/discussed past Viago/Lucanis, background Teia/Viago, pinning, slow burn, hand kink, masturbation, background Bellara/Irelin, biting, hand jobs, blow jobs, anal sex, anal fingering, surprise piercing, canon style violence, virgin Lucanis

Emmrich unlocked the door to the house, against the his own laughter as Bellara continued to tell him about some of the misadventures she had had, during her undergraduate years.

"I remember mistakes like that so fondly," Emmrich had to admitted, as he stepped inside. The house was silent, around him. Which was… odd. He had expected to hear Lucanis in the living room, or in the kitchen- he had texted him earlier that Bellara was coming by with him for a final visit- her flight back to Arlathan left early the next morning.

But there was nothing. Emmrich paused- but then didn't even bother removing his shoes, something in his gut not feeling right. He walked through the dining room into the kitchen, and noticed the mug he had placed beneath the coffee machine for Lucanis that morning still sitting there- cold, full, untouched.

"Lucanis?" Emmrich called, as Bellara stepped into the kitchen doorway.

"Emmrich? What's wrong?"

Emmrich gently brushed past her, heading for the stairs and climbing them quickly. He rushed down the hallway, found Lucanis's room empty. Completely empty. In fact, it had the air of a room untouched for decades, already.

He felt Manfred rub against his leg, and glanced down. The cat bound off towards his study, and Emmrich followed. Nearing his desk, he noticed a piece of his stationary, left next to his laptop. He snatched it up, not having needed to ever see Lucanis's handwriting to know it was his.

Emmrich.

Seeing his name made his heart lurch, begin to claw up his throat. He could hear Bellara on the stairs, making her way up.

I'm sorry. Caterina's dead.

"Dead?" Emmrich whispered to himself, as Manfred jumped up on the desk, looking intently at him.

You're not safe around me. If I stay- someone else will try to take your life. I can't be the cause of your death, too.

Emmrich felt his hands shake. He didn't understand why Lucanis would think he was responsible for Caterina's death- but there was no other way to read that statement.

There was the start to a sentence, but it was so scribbled out Emmrich couldn't read it- and beneath it.

Thank you.

Lucanis

"He's gone," Emmrich whispered to himself, turning around and finding Bellara waiting at the doorway for him. "He's returned to Treviso."

"Because of last night?" Emmrich knew Bellara meant the attack- which he had explained in length to her- and not the spontaneous intimacy that had occurred after- which he had not mentioned- yet he couldn't wonder if perhaps he had overstepped. Gods, Lucanis had admitted after that Emmrich had been his first… "So, what are you waiting for?"

"Come again?" Bellara walked into the room, reaching out and covering Emmrich's hands on the paper he was clutching so desperately.

"What are you waiting for? You know where he went- book a flight and pack your suitcase!"

Emmrich gawked at Bellara. Because he couldn't… that would be rash…

He was already moving out of the study, towards his bedroom, his closet, a small rolling suitcase that had been touched in over ten years still tucked away. As he did Bellara followed, pulling out her own phone, listing off all of the flight times to Treviso she could find.

As he haphazardly began to pack, he did fish his phone out, and tried to call Lucanis once. The call went directly to voicemail- and without a word he hung up, slipped his phone away, and shut his suitcase. He couldn't dwell on the sinking feeling in his belly, on the way his heart ached far worse than it ever had, in his chest.

If he had over stepped, he wanted to apologize. If Lucanis feared for Emmrich's safety, he wanted to confront that. He couldn't just let everything that felt so right die, when it had only just been born.

It seemed he was going to finally see Treviso.

*

Treviso was warmer than Nevarra, the early morning sun blinding Emmrich for a moment. Next to him, Bellara pushed her sunglasses down, looking at a map of the city on her phone.

She shouldn't have even been there- but once Emmrich relented that there wasn't a single strand of his very being that didn't want to go after Lucanis, she had canceled her flight to Arlathan and booked the seat next to him that evening for Treviso. In her words, I don't let me friends adventure without me!

Emmrich was honored, and endlessly thankful, to not be doing this alone.

He was exhausted down to his bones from the overnight flight. Their hotel was only a few blocks walk from where a shuttle from the airport had dropped them, and he was thankful. He didn't want to waste a moment's time- but he also knew his mind wouldn't function at its best in his current state. He needed a few hours of rest, in order to get his head on correctly.

He pulled his rolling suitcase along, his other hand gripping Manfred's leash. The cat had been very well behaved during the journey, and had more energy than both Emmrich and Bellara combined, in that moment. He pranced along next to them, head whipping about as he took in all of the new sights and sounds.

The city was breathtaking, Emmrich could admit. He felt heartbroken that he wasn't experiencing this with Lucanis at his side, the man's hand in his own, as he eagerly talked about his favorite cafe, planned where they would be eating dinner that night.

He forced the ache down, not wanting to dwell on it. He'd fix this. He had to.

They checked into their hotel, separating for their respective rooms. They agreed to be back up in a few hours- just enough time to let their minds reset.

Emmrich removed Manfred's harness, once his hotel door was shut. The cat was quick to hop up onto the bed, walking it as if inspecting it. Emmrich didn't even bother shedding more than his shoes- he crawled into the bed, clothing slightly rumpled, jewelry still all in place. He thought the moment his head hit the pillow he would pass out- but he found himself ten minutes later still staring at the opposite wall, as Manfred settled up on one of the pillows.

Despite the exhaustion his mind was racing. He had spent the flight from Nevarra reading the latest papers Myrna had shared with him, which would have given a glimmer of hope of possibly separating Spite and Lucanis, if Emmrich could bring himself to hurt the spirit he was so fond of.

The only method that boasted actual results ensure the destruction of the spirit, and Emmrich couldn't support that- morally or personally. He found Spite felt like simply another part of Lucanis, and destroying him felt like fracturing the man he had come to love.

The word made his mouth taste metallic, as if he had bitten his tongue. He rolled onto his back, stared up at the ceiling. That's what this was, wasn't it? At the end of everything, it didn't matter how educated he was, how worldly-

He'd fallen hard and fast for a man- and the spirit that clung to him, possessed him. He felt ridiculous, was so sure this sort of fast falling should have been beyond him- yet here he was.

Worried about Lucanis, missing him- fearing that the man might simply fade away, into the Trevisan sky.

He rolled to his other side, forced his eyes shut, began to count slowly in his mind to calm himself. If he wanted to ensure Lucanis's safety, he needed to be at his best. And that meant sleep.

It was another hour before it actually came.

*

By midday, Emmrich and Bellara were as rested as possible, showered, put together, and back in the city.

"We could try to find his home," Bellara offered, standing at a street corner and looking at her phone. Her hair was thrown up haphazardly, her patchwork sweater long gone in the Trevisan heat.

"And just show up unannounced?" Emmrich asked, "the audacity."

"Emmrich. Social politeness is going out the window." She leveled a stare at him, her sunglasses sliding down her nose, and he nodded. Right, she was right- they had flown to another country after all, without Lucanis's knowledge.

They crossed the street with the crowd, Emmrich pausing as he stepped up the curb, noticing a large cafe. The name, Cafe Pietra, was familiar.

"Wait," he said, gently placing a hand on Bellara's arm. "That cafe. Lucanis has mentioned it. I believe it was his favorite." Before he could say more, Bellara was steering him in the direction of the cafe.

"Okay, so maybe we run into him and you two can have your happily ever after reunion. And I can get some caffeine."

The cafe was bustling, much livelier than Emmrich had anticipated. The air was rich with the scents of strong coffee and sugary pastries. Was this what Lucanis was used to, daily? Emmrich could see being drunk on the comfort of it alone.

Bellara pushed Emmrich towards a table and moved to order them coffee- much to his chagrin. He had planned to buy their coffee.

He settled down, glancing around him. Most of the tables were occupied, small groups speaking together- a few blatant morning dates as the couples leaned in close to speak with an intimacy that made Emmrich feel hollow.

Lucanis may have felt he had put Emmrich in danger, but Emmrich didn't care. Danger be damned, he hadn't felt this alive in… he wasn't sure how long. Someone's very soul had never sung to his in the way Lucanis's did.

He loved him. Maker and dead gods all be damned, he loved him. And he needed the man at least to know.

Bellara returned a few minutes later, setting coffee in front of Emmrich. From the scent alone it was indeed a classic Antivan roast, robust and bitter. "Cream and sugar," Bellara said, as Emmrich picked up the cup, "but I figured tea wasn't going to be strong enough."

Emmrich nodded. Truth be told, he wanted something that felt like it belonged to Lucanis anyway.

"So, anyway," Bellara said, after taking a moment to wince as she took too large a drink of her scalding coffee. "We find where he lives, we find him. If he's a Crow, and an important one, that can't be that hard in Treviso. What's his family name?"

"Dellamorte," Emmrich offered, as Bellara began rapid-fire typing on her phone. She had a point, he knew- the culture was different here. Lucanis might not have walked around tutting that he was an Antivan Crow back in Nevarra, but it would be common knowledge here. Half the cafe's current clientele were probably Crows.

Before Bellara could even finish typing, two additional cups were set on the table, and one of the chairs was pulled out. A short elf woman sat down, her dark curls wild as she leveled a stare at Emmrich. And before he could even say a word, she stated- didn't ask- "You know Lucanis."

Bellara nearly dropped her phone, having not even heard the woman sit down. She stared, as Emmrich cleared his throat.

"I do," he admitted, "Hello, by the way. I'm-"

"Nevarran, judging by your accent." Emmrich quirked a brow, and the woman folded her hands, leaned closer. She had a woody, deep rose scent to her perfume. "Would you happen to be a former professor with a specialty in spirits and demons?"

"Demons is not the term I'd use-"

He didn't even finish before she cracked a little smile. "And it's safe to assume you own a flower shop. And a cat." Emmrich pinched his lips shut, nodding. The woman pushed her seat back, stood as quickly as she had sat, gathering up her two cups of coffee. "Come with me."

Bellara and Emmrich glanced at each other, before they picked up their cups and hurried after the woman, struggling to keep up with the way she cut through the crowd with ease. It was only once they were outside the cafe that Emmrich could walk by her side.

"Do you know Lucanis?" he asked, before adding, "And how do you know so much about me?"

"It's our job to know things." She nodded towards a car, parked at the curb, as she shifted the cups to one arm, fishing out her keys. "I'll explain once we are somewhere quieter."

Emmrich nodded. Caution be damned, if he was about to be kidnapped for some unknown reason in a country he'd only been in about five hours- so be it. He'd figure it out.

Once they were in the car and in traffic, the woman finally said, "Teia. My name, by the way."

Emmrich perked up. "Lucanis had mentioned you! And your boyfriend, I believe…" he paused, searching for the name. "Viago, was his name?"

Teia smiled as she took a turn rather sharply. "Boyfriend when he remembers to behave. Good to know Lucanis didn't forget the two of us while he was off gallivanting in Nevarra." The quick glance she gave Emmrich made him believe she knew far more than she was letting on, and he had to glance away, feeling the faintest heat rising in his cheeks.

He knew very well she caught it.

"Lucanis came home last night," she offered, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel while they waited at a light. "I'm the one that called him about Caterina."

"Did you know her?"

"Quite well."

Emmrich nodded. "My condolences. How is Lucanis?" Teia glanced at him, before the light changed and she hit the gas.

"Scattered." She didn't elaborate, as she pulled into a driveway, parking the car. Emmrich climbed out, Bellara following from the back, as Teia gathered both coffee cups and led them in the front door.

Emmrich and Bellara followed her into a living room, where she set both cups on a small side table and flopped onto the couch. Emmrich stood awkwardly, holding his own, as Bellara's eyes darted around the room, taking in the art hung on the walls.

Before Emmrich could speak, he heard a voice from upstairs, "Teia? I assume that's you." There were footsteps, along the stairs, as the voice continued. "I haven't heard from Lucanis and I am considering storming the villa…"

A man appeared in the doorway, hair wet and falling against his forehead, over the tips of his ears. He was dressed in nothing but a towel that he was holding at his waist.

"…and you're not alone."

Bellara bit back a laugh, trying to hide behind taking a sip of her coffee, as Emmrich quickly glanced away, at the ceiling.

Teia simply sighed. "No Vi, I'm not. I brought your coffee, and a very interesting gentleman from Nevarra."

The man- Viago, he had to be- turned his attention fully to Emmrich, who was forced to glance from the ceiling. After only a moment, Viago cleared his throat. "Right. I'm going to put some pants on…" Teia waved him off as he left, before she gestured to the seating in the room.

"You can sit down. I promise this isn't some overly dramatized Crow ambush."

"Oh! Like in the series, The Crow's Gem, where three Antivan Crows have a Tevinter magistrate over for evening drinks and-" Bellara paused, Teia openly staring at her. "I'm rambling. Sorry."

Bellara plopped down into a love seat, as Emmrich crossed the room, sat next to her. "This is Bellara- forgive her excitement. It is well meaning." Teia gave a little forgiving smile, and Emmrich added, "And I'm Emmrich. A pleasure to meet a friend of Lucanis."

Teia leaned forward, forearms resting on her knees, as she studied him. "It's nice to put a name and face to this mysterious man Lucanis met while in exile in Nevarra."

Emmrich cleared his throat, feeling quite self conscious beneath that stare. After all, Teia was beautiful, Viago had been… Maker, was everyone in Antiva breathtaking? And he was…

Well. Too old to be chasing Lucanis, yet here he was. Playing the fool and refusing to drop out of the play.

"Lucanis wouldn't say much," Teia continued, her smile softening. "But I've never seen him smile the way he did. Smitten is the only word I can think of." She tipped her head slightly, before adding, "If he likes you, you're fine in my opinion."

"And your opinion is law." Viago spoke from the doorway, returned and properly dressed now. He walked into the room, grabbed the coffee Teia had brought back for him, and took up the spot next to her on the couch. "No one would question the Seventh Talon." He gave her a playful smile, before he turned his attention back to Emmrich. "Lucanis isn't here."

"I gathered that much."

"He insisted we take him to Villa Dellamorte last night upon his arrival. I haven't heard from him since."

"I have eyes on the villa," Teia added, "there's no reason to think he's in danger."

Emmrich tensed. "But would there be reason to consider that otherwise?"

Teia and Viago glanced at each other, before Viago gave an exasperated sigh. "We just worry about him. He was not in good shape when he last left Treviso- to come back only for Caterina's death… and gods know Illario is no help." Viago said his name as if it was coated in poison. "The man can't even confirm when Caterina's ashes will be prepared for the funeral. Teia has asked more times than I would."

Emmrich nodded. "May I ask- what were the circumstances of her death?"

Teia answered as Viago took a long drink of his coffee. "An attack on the villa- Venatori."

Emmrich frowned, Venatori… "I thought the cult's presence was minimal in Antiva."

"It is." Viago was frowning. "Which makes this suspicious beyond words. And to get so close…"

"There's more." Teia stood up, fishing out her phone and walking over to Emmrich. When she turned it, there was an image of the blade that had been used to stab Lucanis, the first day Emmrich had met him. "Lucanis sent me this picture- wanted help with the inscription. I don't know what it says, but it is definitely in Tevene."

Meaning the blade that had been used against the both of them was inscribed in Tevene as well.

"His contract was on a Venatori?"

"It would seem so."

"Is that common?"

"It's not uncommon," Viago offered, from the couch. "But typically it's from one Venatori to another- a power play. With very specific instructions, to leave a message."

Emmrich rubbed his jaw with one hand, thinking, retracing that first day. Lucanis had come in with the specific order, roses and lilies…

But he hadn't known what colors to use.

"The contract that sent him to Nevarra- is it possible to see it?"

Viago and Teia glanced at each other, before Teia pocketed her phone. "You're thinking something."

"It could be a moot point, but I'd like to check something."

"I can get you access to any of Caterina's contracts," Teia said, motioning for Emmrich to follow her. He stood up, following her towards the stairs, could hear Bellara and Viago following, Viago asking,

"Since when did you have access to the First Talon's contracts?"

Teia didn't answer, opening the door to what might have been a spare bedroom but had been turned into a study. She sat down at a desk, opening her laptop, and within moments was sifting through files.

"Caterina wanted someone else to have access," Teia finally said, "she didn't… care for the technological aspect of the business." She pushed her chair back, standing up, and nodded, offering it to Emmrich.

He sat down, scrolling through the document- it was very brief, detailed who the target was- never once calling him out as Venatori. It seemed as if the contract was coming from a spurned lover- a wife who had caught her husband cheating. The roses and lilies were meant to symbolize a funeral to their love-

And nowhere were the colors specified.

Emmrich leaned back, folded his hands in his lap. "It's odd," he said, "that the contract puts such a stress on what flowers be delivered, yet makes no mention of the color." He glanced back, but the other three were just looking at him for context. "Roses are often a sign of love, and lilies are common at funerals. but they come in many colors- and those colors can have different meanings. But…" he trailed off for a moment, "When you think of a rose, what color do you see?"

"Red," Viago offered, and Emmrich nodded.

"And a lily?"

"White." Teia, now.

"What if whoever sent this contract didn't actually care about sending a message, and simply wanted Lucanis to stand out to his target, in some way? They just assumed the roses would be red, the lilies white, and probably told your dead Venatori to look for a man with red and white flowers."

"But then how were the colors correct?" Viago asked, stepping further into the room.

Emmrich reached up, pinched the bridge of his nose. "That, unfortunately, is my fault. When Lucanis came into my shop to place the order, I helped select the colors. Gods, he could have avoided the whole debacle if I'd simply offered a different suggestion…"

He felt a hand on his shoulder- Teia, offering a small smile. "I can tell you, Lucanis would be furious to hear you blame yourself. From the brief way he spoke about you last night, I would have thought you could move mountains." She squeezed his shoulder again, as Viago took up the space over his other shoulder, reading the contract.

"This contract is sloppy," he said, "and minor- why would she even bother with it? This could have been given to any house- why waste Lucanis's talent?"

"Because it would get him out of Treviso?" They all glanced back at Bellara, who had spoken up from where she stood in the doorway. "Emmrich, you said he wasn't allowed back in Treviso while he was…"

"Still possessed," he filled in.

"Right. Well, maybe Caterina planned to have him stay in Nevarra the entire time, no matter the outcome of the contract. I mean, Nevarra is fairly calm compared to I'm sure some of the places he could visit."

Teia lifted her hands, pressing them together and to her mouth, clearly thinking. "She could be right," she said, after a moment. "Caterina hid it well, but she was upset over Lucanis's abduction. Sending him somewhere removed from the house would make sense, to keep him safe." She turned to Viago. "I will follow the contract. You need to get Lucanis to us so we can tell him about this."

"He hasn't been returning my texts."

"Well then drive over to the villa and kidnap him if you need to, Vi! Whatever it takes, get him here." Emmrich pushed the chair back, stood up as Teia took his space, cracking her knuckles. Viago huffed, but was already pulling his phone out, trying to reach Lucanis.

"Teia," Emmrich said softly, as she began began jotting notes on the unnamed contract benefactor. "Who else would know about these contracts?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, details, who they were assigned to, what might be in waiting… anything really."

"Caterina," Teia said, "myself, now. Lucanis would have, Illario…" she paused, then shook her head. "No one else- not unless the contract was assigned to another house. Anything that comes directly to one house remains in their private network… I'm the exception." She glanced up at him. "You think it was someone that close?"

"It would be the most logical answer. Let's remove Caterina herself and Lucanis- that leaves you and Illario." Before Teia could speak, Emmrich added, "I don't believe it was you."

She relaxed, slightly, as behind the group Viago could he heard yelling, "Dammit Lucanis, pick up your fucking phone!"

That didn't seem to be going well.

"Would Illario benefit from something happening to Lucanis?" He asked it softly, as Bellara tried to calm Viago, who was still cursing at his phone. "I'm sorry if that is insensitive, Lucanis mentioned him briefly, and I know they were close, but-"

"It's not. And yes, he would. It was blatant that Caterina would pass the title of First Talon onto Lucanis upon her death- or if she ever stepped down."

"Do you think he would have betrayed Lucanis to inherit?"

Teia frowned, glancing down. "Sadly, yes." With nothing else to say on the matter, Teia continued her work- and Emmrich pulled up another chair, offering to be a second set of eyes.

*

It was evening when Viago all but gave up trying to reach Lucanis and simply left. Teia had assured Emmrich that if anyone was going to magically locate him, it would be Vi. He had a sixth sense, when it came to Lucanis.

As it was, Emmrich was immersed in Teia's findings. The contract had led back eventually to a fake identity- which then led to a real Venatori. One Teia recognized.

"Calivan," she said, circling his name on the paper she was writing on. "Lucanis's contract when he was abducted was on him. I'd say it's the only outstanding contract House Dellamorte has to date." She tapped her pen. "A Crow never abandons a contract. I remember Lucanis had been adamant when he'd been returned to us that he get his pound of flesh. I'm sure that desire hasn't waned." She paused, before adding, "Caterina had considered letting him return to complete the contract. She didn't want a shadow over the house…"

She trailed off, and Emmrich offered, softly, "But?"

"But Illario had been so vocal about his concern for Lucanis that she relented for now. It was one of the few times I ever saw her concede to Illario."

Emmrich nodded. His gut was sinking more by the minute that one of the people Lucanis trusted could very well by responsible for the worst thing to ever happen to him. "Could Calivan know he was the target of a contract?"

"Possibly." Teia drew a line, before writing another name. Zara. "He works closely with Zara- a Tevinter magistrate. It's barely a rumor and nearly considered fact that she's Venatori. The rest of the magistrate just ignores it." Emmrich couldn't be shocked- he'd never heard enamoring things about most of the Tevinter Magistrate. Not that governing classes were ideal anywhere. "There's other rumors about Zara."

"Such as?"

"Her love for demons." Emmrich fought down a cringe at the use of the word- he couldn't fault Teia for it. "Word has always been she has experimented with possession."

"Spite," Emmrich whispered. "The contract on Calivan- it could have been simply to get him close enough to Zara. And she forced the possession on him." Teia nodded, clearly thinking the same thing. "But why?"

Emmrich felt anger rising in his belly. He folded his hands to keep from fisting them. He would love to look the woman in the eye that had hurt both Lucanis and Spite- after all, the spirit was a victim in this as well. Spite would have never morphed into what he was, if not forced to possess whatever flesh had been shoved into Lucanis's gullet.

Emmrich could make no promises about his gentlemanly ways, should he meet her. He was sure the rings on his fingers would react nicely to someone's teeth.

"Lucanis is one of a kind," Teia said- something Emmrich would most certainly agree on. "He's the best of us. Perhaps she thought he was… robust enough to handle her experiments."

"Someone had to deliver him to her," he said, rubbed his jaw. "And who placed the contract on Calivan?" Emmrich asked, circling back.

Teia had a knowing look in her eyes. "Illario. He would know that sort of contract would go directly to Lucanis. He would know the details about the set up, be able to ensure the Venatori had an advantage. Lucanis is good, but even he has his limits." Teia paused, before she added, "Don't ever let him know we think he has limits."

Emmrich chuckled. "I suppose I can keep one secret from him." Teia nodded her thanks, before she pulled her phone out, glancing at a message.

"One of my Crows," she said, "she may have something. I need to go." She stood up, gesturing towards the chair. "Feel free to continue my work." She said it with a smile, and Emmrich returned it- despite his fear for Lucanis and his well being, he had to admit, he was having quite a good time picking Teia's mind.

The Crow slipped out of the room, and Emmrich could hear her speaking with Bellara, somewhere downstairs. Once the door opened and then shut, Bellara was making her way up the stairs, knocking on the door frame and leaning in. "You doing okay?" she asked, and Emmrich nodded, his attention fixed on Teia's little mapping of names.

Illario, posing as someone who wanted Calivan dead, set Lucanis on that contract, knowing he would be captured and delivered to Zara. But why not kill him? Why keep him and experiment with spirits? Only to have Lucanis freed, and have to go through the process of trying to have him killed again.

Something was missing.

Bellara settled on the floor by the desk, her back to it, as she scrolled through her phone. Her silent company was reassuring- Emmrich was afraid to be alone, in that moment. Having a problem to solve, items and names and ideas to chain together kept his mind busy- and with someone watching, he would need to stay composed. He couldn't let the worry eat him alive.

The room was silent, when they could hear a car pull up. Emmrich assumed it was Teia- he hadn't kept track of the time- but when the door opened, he heard a voice that had his heart jumping.

"Viago, this had better be important."

Emmrich pushed his chair back, rushing from the room, towards the top of the stairs. From there he could see the doorway as the front door closed, Lucanis looking directly at Viago.

"It is." Viago glanced up the stairs, paused when he saw Emmrich, and a moment later Lucanis followed his stare, those gorgeous dark eyes going slightly large when they settled on Emmrich. They had shadows beneath them, as if Lucanis hadn't slept since returning to Treviso- but he was breathtaking, all the same.

"Lucanis," he managed to say, reaching to grasp at the railing of the stairs. He had never wanted to run so badly in his life, to gather the man up in his arms, tangle fingers in his hair, grasp at his shirt, kiss him until his mouth was numb. He just wanted to feel Lucanis against him, to know he was real, he was here-

That this entire affair, from the moment he'd first met the Crow, hadn't been a dream.

[atangledfate]

It was calming seeing how confident those two were. How ready they were to throw everything aside for her. She'd never had anyone so willing to help her. Then again her memories were hardly something she trusted. She had only a limited experience since she awoke, so perhaps this isn't so strange? Really she was more concerned with her bracelet and her powers getting whacky on her again. She should probably see if Shard could repair it, maybe that self-repair system could fix it? She had no idea how that worked. She'd ask them once they were somewhere safe.

" Thank you... both of you... i don't know how i'll ever repay you... i'm lucky to have met such kind souls. "

She sighed in relief letting her doubts leave her and putting her trust in the two. Though she did wonder if Shards boasting was accurate, she'd heard Miss Tangle's stories of fighting Metal and it left her terrified of the thought. She really did not want to see Shard get hurt again and if she was honest---she was way more worried about that AI.

" I... am very ready for a long nap though... this has been an exhausting day..."

"It's no trouble, honest!" Silver quickly encourages. "I wouldn't offer if I thought you were imposing. You just got out of a scary situation, and you need a place you can lie low for a bit. Shard and I are more than happy to accommodate."

Silver nods to Shard, who nods awkwardly in turn.

"Plus both Shard and I are pretty strong in our own rights. If Eggman attacks again, we'll be able to fend him off, no matter what he sends our way. Promise."

"Yeah. If he even thinks of sending that loathsome replacement of mine our way, I'll blast him to bits." Shard brags. "His current Metal Sonic may be tough, but he's no match for the OG."

Shard's pretty confident in his assessment. The reason he and Silver make such a good team is the fact that they cover each other's blind spots when they come down to it. Shard can easily dispatch powerful threats in one on one fights, and Silver specializes in taking out large groups of enemies all at once.

As long as they're in agreement with each other, of course. Thankfully, in light of recent events, they're on the same page.

[therentyoupay]

im completely feral over all your jelsa stories!!!!!! do you ever write established relationship jelsa or have any headcanons about what they would be like together in a serious relationship or marriage????

THANK YOU SO MUCH. 😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💕🙏 thank you thank you nonny for this super sweet ask and this really lovely question and all of your love and support!! 💕💕💕💕💕

i have... never actually written established!relationship (in any fandom), now that i'm thinking about it? that said, i guess i can come up with a quick list of some headcanons, maybe? 😂 i will have to think about this more, but for now, here's a quick drop:

elsa is an early riser; elsa helps jack create more sustainable sleeping patterns and habit formations 😂

when jack gets Impetuous Urges to Do Something Rash and Impractically Spontaneous, elsa will ground jack, reminding him to think before acting. (he occasionally Still Does It, anyway.) elsa knows what she signed up for, lol.

jack loves to play Harmless(!) Pranks, just to watch elsa’s reaction. (he is no longer allowed to sneak up on her after The Incident).

they also quibble over the definition of "harmless" and the specific logistical implications of that; for a while, jack was banned from further pranking, but then he got more creative at showing elsa that pranks could be wholesome and genuine, in which they could both be in on the joke. however, due to elsa's deeply-rooted Need to Excel and her (Not-so)Secret Competitive AF Streak, her retaliation in escalating the Cleverness Prank War quickly resulted in jack's prompt implementation of the Prank-Free Zones and Time Periods. (no, he was not scared.)

elsa, usually reserved, has learned to let her playful side show more often with jack. she might still pretend to be exasperated by his antics, but sometimes it's part of the game (or habit).

elsa sill struggles with opening up emotionally sometimes, but she progressively feels safe enough to share her innermost thoughts and fears. with time, she confides in him more about her worries. she still never likes the idea that jack sees her Imperfect Parts, but at least she can tolerate the discomfort (and, yes, take comfort in it) now

(jack loves elsa's Imperfect Parts, and jack admits that he is Weirdly Proud and Competitively Honored to be one of the only people, even including anna, who gets to see them. he also is strangely Comforted and Validated that elsa is, in fact, not perfect because for a while there, he was pretty freaked out and intimidated by how fancy she is.)

until he realized that no one ever let her actually be a Weirdo before, and once he realizes the Truth of Elsa Also Being a Secret (albeit perhaps more Subdued) Weirdo, the Universe Aligns.

jack listens to elsa's Big Conversations intently, activating varying levels of Serious Mode.

jack is getting better at recognizing the moments when elsa needs him to play and needs him to listen or Give His Opinion or any combination of those things.

jack learns that it's not always about Saying the Right Thing (which he is not very good at, anyway, or so our Serially Unreliable Narrator thinks), but rather being able to read elsa's mood and anticipate what she might need (even if she is not aware of it herself yet).

elsa is meticulous about planning and preparing for special occasions.

elsa likes traditions! jack likes tradition only because elsa likes them, lol, and hey, okay, these are more fun than he thought?? (who knew fun could be organized??!!?)

so he really wants to show (off to) her by pulling off Incredible Planning Feats in her honor, too (they do not go as smoothly, lol).

jack will often go out of his way to spontaneously create something meaningful, a moment or a gift or a gesture, that reminds elsa that he cares. he is big on words of affirmation, gift giving (but like, souvenirs that he collects on adventures like, "i saw this rock and it reminded me of your cousin olaf, we should put it on the window after we paint his face on it"), and acts of service, as well as physical touch and quality time. HE WANTS LOVE. he wants TO BE LOVED. he wants to prove that he is worthy of being loved.

(and elsa has to get him to Chill Out sometimes, remind him that he doesn't have to Do Things For Her/Anyone in order to be deserving of care; he is more than what he provides for other people.)

(jack gets its, and appreciates it, but also, the Urge to Provide and Protect is still strong, even after so much time, and sometimes Old Habits Die Hard.)

i get the sense that he'd be the type to he wake elsa up in the middle of the night to take her on a surprise adventure, or convince her to Do a Fun Thing without any preparation (/warning).

and she would Be Alarmed at the Lack of Plan (especially if/when jack Did Not Think This Through), but he also took precautions to ward off Concerns by pacifying her with tea, or reassurances that yes, he did call ahead to make sure the restaurant was open before they left the house, of course he did, he would never just leave home without double-checking beforehand (and frantically googles it two minutes later when he thinks she's not looking; she is, naturally, and even occasionally pretends not to be).

elsa approaches conflict with a desire to resolve things Calmly and Logically. she tries to understand jack’s perspective, even when she disagrees, and she’s careful with her words, not wanting to escalate the situation.

however, she can sometimes withdraw emotionally, fearing that she might say something hurtful if she’s too overwhelmed.

jack was initially (and, honestly, still is, even though he understands more now) hurt by her tendency to shut down when she Feels Too Much, and understands (although it's still hard) that elsa needs time to process her feelings and organize her thoughts.

jack also helps elsa actually Feel her Feelings, instead of just trying to intellectualize and analyze them. (she hates it, BUT sees the value. jack lives for these moments in which he realizes that he's actually contributing positively to her life and helping her in some way, rather than just being a burden or a nuisance, as was/is his fear.)

his initial reaction might be to push for a resolution quickly, but he’s also deeply afraid of Creating Distance between them, so after the first few fights, he really makes an effort to find the right balance between Pushing Hard Enough and Not Pushing Too hard, so that he doesn't drive a wedge between them as they work things out.

jack FEELS intensely, and can be so stubborn. he does not always have the most precise vocabulary or tools to describe his thoughts and feelings, or identify the root causes of what is actually going on inside him; sometimes elsa asks a lot of insightful and guiding questions that help jack come to the conclusions himself, and other times, she Puts Into Words the very thing that he had been thinking or feeling, but could not name, and it is very reassuring to have someone who understands him well enough to be able to do that.

after conflicts or arguments, they take time to Decompress and reassure one another (especially if at least one of them, if not both, was Overthinking again).

when they argue (and healthy couples do, remember!), it’s a dance of patience and understanding: elsa might need a moment to Collect Herself, and jack learns to give her that Space while also making it clear that he’s ready to talk whenever she is, and that he is going to try very hard to be Rational and Patient About It.

in the end, they both prioritize their relationship over any disagreement, always finding a way back to each other.

[howtodisappearcompletelyand]

20/10 stars little guy

[waynes-multiverse]

YAY!!! So happy Quinn is getting lots of treats again 😍🍪 I'm happy to supply like my name is Martha Stewart lol

“Guess I have to. God knows returning you is impossible.”

Oh, trust me. It really is impossible. She knows from experience 😂 (I'm legit so hyped for the prequel I can't stop talking about it. I know it's annoying lmao)

What a great way to describe the difference between the boys!

Aw, thank you! Colter seems way more straightforward with his opinions than Russell, which does correlate with middle and oldest child lol

In the books, their father had nicknames for each of them: Colter was restless, Dory was smart, and Russell was reclusive. And I think that totally fits, although I know some people said that TV!Russell was more outgoing (which is true), but I do still catch "secret introvert/only shares what's necessary" vibes, so I leaned more into that here 🤓 (And my headcanon for this story was that spending time with reader for so many years would have brought him more out of his shell. They say, couples do assimilate over time lol)

He’s such a good big brother, but damn, he shouldn’t have to keep doing that.

Oh, I'm always so frustrated with the show for brushing over that (I do get it – they don't have enough time to film all of this). But still... the immense pain that man must be in. I mean, that whole storyline is insane 😅🤌

I cackled!! My kind of woman - and Russell’s, too, obviously.

Oh, she certainly doesn't hold back 🤣

And I'm glad Quinn got another cookie at the orgy joke because I'm still cackling about it, too. But imagine what it must've looked like to the neighbors when two dudes that look like the Shaws walk out of that house past midnight, and she's only wearing that. Not to mention, fake husband was sleeping on the couch too. Like, wtf was going on in there?! 😂

And then, in glorious Wayne fashion, you pull out the emotional sucker punches

Yes, you know the deal. I'll give you laughs, you'll give me your tears 😆😘

Ooof!! Would love to know what the “or something” was - that’s going to be an emotionally-charged discussion when they finally have it.

I think mostly childhood trauma mixed with warzone PTSD, mostly. They have been through a loooot 😅 It's bound to leave some scars. But again, in the books, their mom was a psychiatrist and would actually also function as their father's psychiatrist. It is implied he had some form of paranoia/mental illness. Their mother actually had nothing with the murder and never told Russell to leave in the books, so I keep wondering what the show is up to by giving hints toward the other direction 👀 (And I hinted my own theory in this story lol)

And those last two lines…damn! Damn, this is so damn good, Wayne!!! I love this so much!! (Quinn does too!)

Ah yes, I did want to leave the door open for future somethings as the show progresses 😉

So, so happy you love it, friend!!! Sorry for all the rambling lol. I'm so in love with Russell, too. I wish they'd give us more episodes of him 😭🩵

The Exit Strategy – Part 4

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

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, fluff, some angst & feels, family secrets, spy stuff, a bit of spiciness

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Welcome back, friends! We're diving a bit into Shaw family secrets this week – fully Wayne's version, though. While I did read the books, there's no major spoilers**, so don't you worry. I just played with an idea here 🤓 I also won't be fully diving into the Shaw family life, but some things are heavily hinted to be... fishy here 👀 Enjoy & let me know what you think! 🤍

**There's a small part where Russell tells Colter about their parents. It's mentioned in the books that their mother was a psychiatrist. I took that and ran with it 🤷‍♀️

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Part 4: This Is Not an Exit

“You’ve been walking down memory lane a lot tonight,” you teased with a nudge of his ribs, still tightly cuddled in his warm embrace in the freezing basement.

“Haven’t you?”

“No, I have,” you admitted with a melancholic sigh. “Maybe we should stop dwelling on the past so much. Think more about the future…”

Russell scoffed a small chuckle. “Dory said something similar not that long ago. Actually the reason why I came here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, his fingers absently drawing circles on your arm. “I think it’s time we retire, sweetheart. I mean, after everything we’ve been through, I think we deserve to, right? You know, sometimes I wake up in the morning, and I’m surprised we’re even still here, considering how many war zones we’ve been in.”

“Well, you know what they say – beware the old soldier because he’s old for a reason,” you said with a smile.

“Yeah, think I might be getting a little too old…” Russell chucked lightly, running a hand through his long hair. “So? What d’you think? One last hurrah, and then we hang this up? I was thinking maybe we could open up a brewery, you know? A family place. Bet the kids would love it.”

“Sounds nice,” you said with a yearning smile. You wanted all of that and more. “I’d love to retire with you.”

“But?”

You laughed slightly at his anticipating look. “But I don’t think you can yet.”

His eyebrows drew together till they met above the bridge of his freckled nose. “What d’you mean? I just told you I’m ready.”

“You say you are, but you aren’t,” you replied like the annoying Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Have you solved the murder yet?”

Russell licked his lips, which was his telltale sign that you caught him there. After all, you knew him better than anyone in this world – knowing when he needed to be pushed and shoved was part of it.

“No, but I don’t need to anymore. Look, the only reason I wanted to solve it was because I thought I had to prove my innocence to Colter. And well, turns out I didn’t. He believed me anyways, so…”

“That wasn’t the only reason,” you reminded him with a scrutinizing look.

“Maybe, but like I said – Dory thinks we should keep all this bullshit in the past, and after the last three years, I’m starting to agree with her,” Russell said, dragging a hand over his face.

“Look, if that’s what you want–”

“It’s what I want,” he assured you and placed a hand on your thigh, gently squeezing it. “Having my little brother and sister back is enough. I don’t need more. Nothing good ever comes from being greedy.”

You nodded in understanding, clearing your throat. “Still, in the name of our deal to always be honest, I kinda have to confess something.”

Rising from your seat, you dusted off your awful, flowery skirt and wandered to the wall safe once more, retrieving a thick folder from it. You took your place next to Russell again, his questioning eyes meeting yours as you handed him your research.

“When you didn’t come back after a year or so, I started looking into it as well. Might have done a full deep-dive,” you admitted with a bite of your lip.

Russell shot you a chiding look, shaking his head, but most of all, he was worried. “I told you to leave it alone. You don’t know what sorta people we’re dealing with here, but we do know they’re dangerous.”

“I know. I just wanted to help. Figured I could speed it along. I do have more access than you,” you countered softly. “I’m sorry, okay? But I was careful. I promise.”

“Good,” he said and looked at you, interlacing your fingers with his. “‘Cause the last thing I want is losing you over this bullshit, too.”

Nodding, you squeezed his hand in reassurance. “There’s something you should know, though.” He raised his brow anew – you’d always been full of surprises. Life certainly had never been boring. “Someone accessed the files after me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Definitely had a higher clearance than me, though,” you replied.

Russell threw his arms up, and you could see he was getting more upset again. “See? This is what I’m talking about! The whole point of us separating was to keep you and the kids away from it. Otherwise, we could’ve just stayed together, and I could’ve joined Horizon anyways.”

“I know that, too,” you said remorsefully. “But don’t worry. I wasn’t followed, and no one ever came after me. I made sure of it. It’s been two years now. They probably figured it was nothing after I didn’t reach out to you straight away.”

“Still… I don’t want you involved, alright?”

“What about Colter? Doesn’t he want to know? He doesn’t strike me as someone who just lets things go,” you noted observantly.

Russell clicked his tongue – a sign of defeat. “He isn’t, but he’s not gonna find anything either. I mean, the only reason I know is because you were so relentless and kept digging.”

“You haven’t told him what we found out?”

Russell licked his lips and admitted quietly, “No. I don’t think it does anyone any good to keep looking into this.”

Leaning forward and hugging your knees, your head bobbed pensively. “I thought you guys talked about what happened?”

“We did. Kinda… It’s complicated,” he stated, swallowing. “Dory was easy, you know? I guess she never really believed it… But it took a while till Colter even picked up the phone, let alone answered a goddamn text message. Had to get a little annoying.”

You smirked. “Well, you’re good at that. That’s how you won me over.”

“By being persistent?”

“Exactly. Like a tardigrade.” You grinned. “I mean, you kind of are doing it now again, too.”

He chuckled quietly. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Is that why you haven’t told him about me and the kids? Because you’re not sure about him yet?”

“Partially, yeah,” he admitted. “I guess I wanted to protect you. And maybe myself a little, too… Not sure I’m ready for those two worlds to meet yet, you know? I mean, you and the kids are the best things that ever happened to me, and when I look at Colter or Dory, I’m sometimes reminded of the worst things in my life.”

“What about your mother?”

Russell let out an exhaustive sigh that was half amused. “Geez, you haven’t changed a bit. You still ask the most uncomfortable questions possible.”

You laughed a little. “Gathering intelligence in uncomfortable ways is kind of my job, Shaw.”

“Yup, and no one’s better at it than you, sweetheart,” Russell quipped.

“So I’m guessing it’s a no on Mommie Dearest?”

Russell licked his lips, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna see her. Mostly because I don’t even know what to fucking say anymore,” he said. “I don’t want her to meet the kids either.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him and took his hand in yours. “It’s your choice, Russ. We go at your pace, alright?”

“Thank you.” Russell brought your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand before he looked at you deeply, a smile dancing across his plump lips. “I love you.”

You mirrored his smile, your heart fluttering like a wild butterfly in your chest. “I love you, too.”

“I’ll tell them – Dory and Colter. I want this to work,” he promised. “Just… after we finish this. I want him to have a clear head. I prefer not to get him killed, you know?”

“I get it. I thought the same thing when I first met you, too,” you joked, patting his chest. “But you brought him into this. It’s kinda on you.”

Russell scratched his bearded chin. “Yeah, but I didn’t exactly know what I’d bring him into.”

“Didn’t you, though?”

Amused, Russell bobbed his head. “Yeah, maybe I did,” he acknowledged. “You know, when Manny called me–”

Your eyes widened. “Manny called you?”

Russell blinked at you, brow creased in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

“That motherfucker…”

Furiously, you stomped to the desk and grabbed the radio. “Drone-5. This is Queen Bee-1. Report to Hive.”

The static of the radio cracked almost instantly, as if the idiot had been waiting all night for this call. “Yo, Queen Bee-1. How’s my boy?” Manny’s laugh echoed through the basement.

Russell’s glowing cheeks reached his eyes when he heard his friend’s voice. He’d known the guy almost as long as Doug.

“You’re the one who fucking told him?!” you yelled into the radio, almost crushing the device in your hand.

“To be fair, I told him not to engage with tango,” Manny sheepishly replied.

“Ha-ha, funny. Fuck you,” you huffed and tossed Russ the walkie-talkie. He caught it with one hand.

His boyish grin widened as he pushed the button. “You know, Drone-5, you could’ve told me you were actually working this thing.��

“Aw, you know I can’t do that. But I guess congrats on crashing another operation. You’re Worker Bee-3 now. Old habits die hard, huh?” Manny chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess…” Russell replied with a lighthearted chuckle, but his teeth tugged pensively at his lips.

“Great to have you back, brother. Hope this works out for you. See you on the other side, man. Oh, and could you move like three feet to the left and turn the washer off? We can barely hear and see you guys, and Drone-2 just ran out to grab popco–”

“No, absolutely not. Out,” you snapped as you grabbed the radio from Russ. He laughed as you put it furiously back on the desk. You knew what you had signed up for, but you still deserved some privacy. Annoyed, you took off your cross necklace – another bug – and settled down beside him again.

“What did he say when he called you?”

“Nothing much, really. Just told me your coordinates and that you like to pick up your mail at three o’clock at the local post office,” Russell replied.

You shook your head, smiling. “Well, he always loved you, so…” You started to chew on your lower lip, the anxiety in your belly returning. For the sake of your mind and heart, you had to make sure Russell was fully back, and this wasn’t just a fluke. “You know, I worry sometimes that if you don’t face this thing with your family, you’ll always feel this way. I mean, after Lewis was born–”

“I know.” Russell nodded, swallowing thickly. He saw the worry shimmering in your eyes, and it cracked his heart a little. “I know I kinda lost it there. Took me by surprise, too. Trust me. Figured I had dealt with all that shit already, you know? But I guess seeing you with him and feeling all that love myself, I just-… I don’t know. I don’t know how she could do it… Ashton was one thing, but she just stood by. And I don’t even know what the hell she was up to while he took us out into those woods…” He shook his head as if to rattle the answer out of his brain. “And then when we found out you were pregnant again… I mean, I’d barely held it together with Lewis. Everything just became a blur. I couldn’t think straight anymore, and I worried all the time I’d be like them…”

“I tried to help,” you said softly.

“I know you did. Guess this was just something I had to figure out on my own,” he replied with a beat shrug.

“How’s your vision now? Still blurry?”

“Clearer than ever.” A smile flickered alive on his lips, green eyes boring into yours as he leaned in and kissed you slowly like he meant every word. Blowing a raspberry, he then turned his attention to the file in his lap. “So, what am I gonna find in there?”

“Honestly, nothing we haven’t already puzzled together,” you replied, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip. “But I found a couple of names associated with your parents. Thought maybe you could look at them and see if you recognize the person you saw in the woods.”

“I already know where this is going…”

“Russ, please, just–”

Russell interrupted you, placing a soothing palm on your thigh that curbed your enthusiasm. “I’ll think about it, alright?”

Satisfied, you raised two placating hands. “All I was asking…”

“How was the lasagna?”

After four hours in the basement, you and Russell quietly treaded up the stairs a few minutes after midnight, finding Colter in the kitchen, eating leftovers out of the ceramic form in the warm glow of the stove light. Tom, on the other hand, had passed out on the couch, only the blue flickers of the TV and the soft noises of a peaceful nature documentary filling the silence of the dark living room.

“Excellent,” Colter stated, swallowing down a mouthful of lasagna before speaking. “I told Tom he should be a chef in a restaurant or something.”

Russell’s brow knitted in doubt. “Really? Lemme try.”

“You just ate two entire bags of junk. You can’t still be hungry,” you argued with a giggle, shaking your head.

“It’s lasagna,” Russell said simply, grabbed a fork from the drawer, and dove right in.

That man would eat anything. You’d seen him do it, too. He didn’t even go hungry when he was lost in a desert.

“Wow, that is good,” Russell announced his judgement with a full mouth. “Maybe we should hire Tom for the brewery, huh?”

“I’m guessing this means you two talked?” Colter asked with a carefully arched brow.

“Hmm. I don’t know,” Russell mused in jest. “What d’you say, sweetheart? You taking me back?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics. “Guess I have to. God knows returning you is impossible.”

Russell laughed and slung an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He kissed your temple.

But then you noticed Colter’s smile falter, his brows creasing in question. “Is your hair different?”

“Shit!”

Wide-eyed, you bolted back down the creaking stairs to the basement, hearing Russell’s laughter fill the kitchen.

“Was she wearing a wig? And her eyes too, right?” Puzzled, Colter tried to piece it all together. He had already figured by your extensive vocabulary of swear words that you might be a better match for his older brother than he had initially surmised.

“Yup, all fake, man,” Russell confirmed and smirked. “Still think she’s not my type yet?”

“No, I can see it now,” Colter admitted, chuckling. “So, you guys are good?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Russell nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, swallowing.

Colter’s smile widened, filling the older Shaw’s stomach with more guilt. “That’s great. Happy for you, man. Guess that means you’re retiring now, huh?”

Russell scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, we’ll see. Always depends on what the wife decides, you know?”

Yup, he sprinkled that important bit of information into a joke. Then, he watched his little brother take a stumped step back, brow furrowing and unfurrowing and then furrowing again.

“Wha-, wife?”

Russell produced a popping sound with his lips like the noise of a bottle when the cork was pulled. Welp, this bottle was surely open now.

“Yup, got married in Thailand in 2011,” he added another helpful tidbit of information, but Colter’s jaw dislodged all the same.

“Alright, got this all figured out,” you said, sauntering back into the kitchen with a pastel pink towel wrapped around your head and a matching bathrobe. You’d just grabbed them from the dryer, the fluffy material still cozily warm. It was the best option, considering you didn’t want to mess around with your wig as well after popping the lenses back in had already cost you most of your patience. In your little bubble of bliss, you hadn’t instantly noticed the brothers staring at you. But once you did, your brows morphed into a frown. “What’s going on?”

“You two are married?” Colter asked, a pointed finger flicking from Russell to you.

You threw your arms up, looking at your husband. “I was gone for five minutes! What happened to telling him after the operation?”

Russell offered you a sheepish shrug. “Well, this old soldier’s getting weak too, apparently.”

“He said it like a joke…” Colter mumbled, still in the middle of processing this new revelation. His older, estranged-but-now-less-strange brother had a wife. A family. Friends. And he knew none of it. What else was there? Kids?

“Yeah, he does that...” You shot your husband a scolding sideways look. “Should I leave you two alone for this?” you then offered, hoping the answer was a goddamn yes.

“Why would you? You’re family, right?” Colter retorted with a dry smile and a sharp look.

You pursed your lips. While you could see some similarities between the brothers, you took note of one big difference: Russell wasn’t as sarcastic and sharp-tongued. Probably because Russell had always been more concerned with what he should, would, or could share with people in an overthinking loop, while his younger brother seemed obviously free of that burden.

“Don’t take it out on her,” Russell stepped in gently, which really was a warning. “She didn’t know about any of this. Kinda pushed her into it.”

“Seems to be your style,” Colter scoffed.

“Can’t work for the CIA without going through a baptism of fire, little brother,” Russell said simply, giving an unapologetic shrug of his shoulders.

“Why would you not tell me?” Colter stared at him, his look a mix of reproach and agitation.

“Look, you weren’t exactly welcoming during our first meeting,” Russell argued with a bit of bark in his deep voice, although confrontation was probably not the best approach. But why should he always have to take the blame for everything? He’d already done that for more than two decades.

“That was months ago,” Colter countered, scowling. “I’d like to think I’ve come around since then… Coulda told me after we saved Doug.”

Russell let out a small sigh of defeat, rolling his eyes back slightly. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, man, alright?” he apologized earnestly.

With a questioning brow, you carefully nudged your husband’s arm. “What happened to Doug? Is he alright?”

“Yeah, uh, he went to work for Horizon with me. I’ll tell you later, okay?” Russell replied, his voice a lot quieter as if sharing a secret, and if Horizon was involved he probably was.

“Is Tracy okay?”

“She’s fine. Little shook up. You should probably give her a call. Smooth things out,” Russell told you.

Tracy thought you worked in marketing at some company for the government. Whenever you, Russell, and Doug were stuck on a mission, the boys made you call her to “smooth things out” – aka reassuring her everything was certainly fine with her husband and he wasn't in any danger at all. They’d once made you call her from a Black Hawk. The noise had been fun to explain away – you’d told her you were picking up a client from a helicopter pad.

Colter chewed on the insides of his cheeks. “So she knows Doug, too?”

Russell nodded. “Yeah, me and Doug were mostly Delta, but SAD liked to borrow us from time to time. We ran in her team for quite a while. She was actually the one who recruited me.”

At his little wink your way, you smiled. He’d come along way from the sweet boy you had once teased like a special-forces-trained kindergartner.

“Listen, things were obviously a little complicated between me and her the last few years,” Russell (under)stated. “But I’ve brought you here for a reason, okay? Figured it’s time you meet your sister-in-law.”

Eyes drifting from you to Russell, Colter pursed his lips – a tell he shared with his brother.

“Are you mad? I can’t tell.” Frowning, Russell tilted his head.

“No,” you absentmindedly replied for Colter, who gave you a curious look but steered his attention back to Russell.

“No,” the younger Shaw repeated your assumption. “I mean, not more than I was before, you know?”

Russell’s creases only deepened. “No, I don’t know.”

“He means he’s indifferent about knowing or not knowing we’re married because he’s already pissed about not knowing about my existence in general,” you explained.

“Ah. Your nerd is showing, sweetheart,” Russell teased you with a smile that made your heart melt.

“Dory would like her,” Colter commented like the thought had just popped into his head – something else he didn’t share with his brother.

You’d always wondered about the youngest Shaw of the three. Russell could never tell you much about Dory. His memory had been one of a smart and feisty nine-year-old, not a young woman and physics professor.

Thumbing at you, Russell cocked a brow at his brother. “Is she right, though?”

“Spot on, actually.” Colter’s tongue poked his cheek, his gaze flickering with a hint of astonishment and new-found respect for you. “And I guess I’m not really mad either way. Just… surprising, you know? I should’ve asked. That’s on me.”

Russell seemed more than a little baffled to hear this, considering he had to pause to find an appropriate response. “No, uh, we’re good. I could’ve just told you, anyways.”

“Yeah, no, that’s alright.” Colter swallowed, sending his older brother a smile of forgiveness. “Honestly, I was glad to hear you weren’t alone all this time, so…”

Russell’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he pushed down the lump in his throat. With a nod, he averted his green eyes to the kitchen floor. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

“Aw, aren’t you guys adorable,” you teased.

Colter wanted to retort something dry-witted, but Russell held up a warning finger. “Ah – wait for it… Trust me. She’s not done.”

“You girls need tissues or a tampon, maybe?”

“Oh, Dory would definitely like her,” Colter repeated his earlier statement with an amused grin.

Russell, on the other hand, shot you a pointed look, but that had barely ever stopped you before. “Okay, you can lay down. You don’t have to give him the initiation. No hazing my little brother,” he ordered you sternly, and you stifled a snort. “And no one better kidnaps him tonight and puts a bag over his head, alright? I don’t wanna pick him up beaten and bloody from some warehouse tomorrow morning.”

“Hm, what?” Colter’s brow furrowed. For the first time, you could see slight panic spread in his pupils.

Who was hazing who now?

You rolled your eyes in feigned annoyance. “Fine, we’ll leave him alone,” you acted your capitulation.

The younger Shaw blinked at you. “Thank you?”

“Should we at least tell him about the other thing while we’re at it?” you asked Russell with a suggestive look.

Thoughtfully, he paused for a beat, then clicked his tongue. “No, I got it from here. It’s getting late. We’ve been here long enough,” he decided. “This is less becoming a friendly ‘welcome-to -the-neighborhood’ dinner and more starting to look like an orgy to the neighbors. Especially since you’ve put on the robe.”

“It just came from the dryer. Look, it’s so soft and warm,” you argued, pouting, your palms caressing the fluffy material on your arms.

“Uh-huh.”

The little bob of his Adam’s apple made you grin slyly. The way his jaw ticked and his pupils widened with a primal hunger, you could tell he wanted to tear that robe right off of you. The thought caused a shudder to run down your spine.

“What, uh, other thing do you have to tell me?” Colter asked and smiled expectantly, tapping his fingers on the the counter.

Russell, however, grabbed his arm and dragged his curious little brother toward the exit. “I’ll tell you in the car,” he said and thumbed to the front door behind his shoulder. “Wait outside. Gimme five minutes, alright?”

Wordlessly, Colter nodded without argument, gave you a quick goodbye-wave of his hand, and strolled leisurely back to his car as if he knew exactly what his older brother intended to do.

As expected, Russell impatiently conquered your lips, roughly pressing you against the foyer’s wall, your arms draping around his neck.

“What’s the bedroom situation in this place?” he asked between kisses.

“First floor, west side, third window from the right. I’ll leave it unlatched,” you replied, smiling against his lips. “Tom’s always sleeping on the couch. Part of our cover is going to marriage counseling with Pastor Jeff, which happens to work out great for us.”

You exhaled a shuddered breath when one of his hands wandered past the robe and splayed warm against your ribcage, just underneath your breast. His thumb fought an itch to get closer.

“Wouldn’t do that, baby,” you murmured into his ear with an amused smirk. “That boner’s not gonna go away in five minutes.”

“Mmm, I know,” he groaned and dropped his head between your boobs, lips pressing a chaste kiss to your collarbone. If he continued on with this, your arousal would surely streak down your bare thighs soon. Luckily, he had mercy on the both of you. “I’ll talk to him and then come back, okay?”

You nodded with a smile. He kissed your lips, then your forehead, and then disappeared through the door with the same cometary velocity he had entered your vision.

And all you could do was hope you’d see him one more time in your life.

“So?”

4.3 seconds after Colter killed the engine of his pickup in a spot a block away to the west side of your house – as per Russell’s very specific instruction – he stared scrutinizingly at his older brother.

Impatience was also a family trait – one even their father had despised.

“Look, uhm, there’s no easy way to break the news…”

“Is this about you having two kids?”

When Russell’s eyes met Colter’s, he didn’t recognize any anger, hurt or resentment in them – just pure slyness. At least that was good news. His little brother was just going to be annoying about this whole thing.

“Yeah, remember those five minutes you left me alone in the car? I called Bobby. Had him check some things out for me. Wasn’t easy to find. I’ll give you that…”

As expected, Colter was going to be a smartass about it. He figured it out on his own. He won the game.

“Hmm.” Russell pursed his lips, nodding. “You do know the CIA is on your guy’s ass now, right? Shouldn’t have done it in their perimeter, man. Manny’s probably all over this by now…”

Then his brow knit as if the thought of his old friend had provoked an idea, his head tilting with narrowed eyes at the air vents on the dashboard. How long had that car been parked outside and out of sight again?

Like a game of Operation, Russell then used thumb and pointer finger as his tweezers to retrieve a tiny bug – the spy kind.

“Gotcha,” Russell muttered, smirking. He then held the bug close to the speakers of the radio before turning up the volume to its highest setting – only for a second. He switched the radio off, rolled down the window, and threw the unwanted listening device onto the pavement. “That should teach ‘em a lesson…”

Colter cocked an incredulous brow at his brother. “They bugged my car?”

“Oh, trust me, they bug anything they can get their greedy little hands on,” Russell retorted. “Would probably check for a tracker underneath, too.”

“Great, thanks,” Colter huffed wryly.

“Hey, you wanted in. That’s what they do,” Russell reminded him, shrugging, but there was a smile of amusement on his lips.

Colter only bobbed his head. “So, you and her? You guys are good now? Just like that? Seemed… easy. Sorta…”

Russell chuckled lightly, brushing a hand through his beard. He knew his relationship with you was unconventional, but it had always worked for you and him.

“Me and Y/N have a deal, you know? It’s not all black and white. I mean, we became aware a long time ago that the two of us operate in a lot of gray zones. But, uh, we always know we can rely on each other, you know? Doesn’t matter if we’ve been separated by time or space,” Russell explained to the best of his abilities.

“So what happened?” Colter prompted with the same amount of confusion. “Why did you guys split up? I saw on the birth certificate your daughter was only two years old. I mean, did you-… did you even know?”

Russell inhaled deeply, nodding. “I knew she was pregnant. When she told me back then, I-…” He paused, licking his lips. It wasn’t something he had ever talked about with anyone before – not even you. “Well, shortly after that, I had a breakdown and I-… I almost hurt her.” He choked on the words, fighting the sting in his eyes.

He’d tried so hard to forget, wasn’t even sure he had ever really apologized for it to you because he so badly didn’t want it to exist that he’d tried to wish it out of literal existence, and hence, never really blamed you for leaving like you did. He understood. In fact, he had even wished you’d leave. He had convinced himself you’d be better off without him – something he still believed to be true – but he also knew he wasn’t better off without you.

He’d been lost and alone. And maybe, he was being selfish by crashing back into your life now. Or Dory’s. And Colter’s.

“I mean, nothing ever really bad happened. It’s just-… That night I came scarily close,” Russell confessed, swallowing thickly. He still hated himself for that night and everything that followed. “It’s like a switch flipped, you know? I couldn’t do anything against it… And Lewis saw parts of it, and I was already impatient with him and short with her the weeks before, so I just left that night and disappeared for two months. Volunteered for some mission. Figured it was best for everybody.”

It’s better off if he never comes back…

Russell licked his chapped lips. The next part was the hardest.

“When I got back, she told me she got a job offer in another country, and that she would be taking it and taking Lewis with her. She wanted me to use the time to… I don’t know… solve this, I guess.” He let out a humorless scoff at the painful memory.

Russell hadn’t seen it at first, maybe because he hadn’t wanted to, his anger and pain blurring the truth. After his son had been born, Russell knew you could see him struggling, so you started digging deeper into his family and what really happened. And when you’d found something – Horizon – you’d told him you could infiltrate. Naturally, Russell had passed a hard no – it had been a five-hour long fight, but he'd emerged victoriously by the end. So, you’d told him he should do it, but he didn’t want to leave you, and he didn’t want to endanger and jeopardize his family.

He’d told he was fine, but he wasn’t. It kept gnawing on him – and gnawing and gnawing and gnawing… till you eventually pulled the plug and ended his suffering.

“I was exhausted, so I told her we’d talk about it in the morning. When I woke up, they were gone. Didn’t even notice she’d already packed.”

Colter was silent for a beat. “Was it PTSD or something?”

“Or somethin’,” replied Russell.

“But you’re good now?” Colter checked with a warily raised brow.

“Guess so…”

Truthfully, Russell didn’t know if he was or wasn’t. He’d tried hard to figure out what it was exactly that had set him off that night and fix it, but he didn’t know if that feeling would ever disappear for good. He just knew he had never felt that way again since then. But could he guarantee it would never come back?

He didn’t know.

“Look, all I know is, seeing you and Dory again helped, so…” Russell twitched his shoulders and sighed. He didn’t know what else to say, how to explain it better, but Colter seemed to understand anyway, reading between the lines.

Russell worried he’d be like their father.

“I think I get it.” The younger Shaw nodded and licked his lips. “You know, you’re not crazy like Dad was, Russ. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re crazy in your own way, but I wouldn’t worry about the other stuff.”

“Well, thanks,” Russell said, not convinced but appreciative of the vote of confidence. “Makes at least one of us…”

“I-, uh, I noticed their names,” Colter then said and clarified, “Lewis and Amelia. Like explorers. Like us.”

“Ah.” Russell smacked his lips and brushed it off, “Wasn’t really my idea. I told Y/N that story once. Guess she took a liking to it..”

“Are you, you know, gonna tell Mom?”

Russell was almost surprised by the question. The brothers had barely talked about their mother since they’d reconnected. Considering Colter had never brought her up again after their first meeting, Russell figured there was a reason for that – and he thought he probably knew the reason, too.

Russell scoffed a chuckle and looked at his little brother with an almost incredulous look. “I think you can guess the answer to that one,” he replied and figured it said enough. “Did you tell her I came back?”

Colter pursed his lips, and Russell took it as a sign of admission. So his mother knew. Great…

“Sorta,” Colter admitted hesitantly.

“What d’she say?” Russell almost smiled out of amusement. He already knew the answer, but his brother still seemed reluctant. “C’mon, you can tell me. I’m not gonna be butthurt after twenty years…”

“She told me to ignore you,” Colter finally confessed, but the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. They had ever since his mother said them, but even more so now that he knew his brother – and parts of the truth.

“Hmm,” Russell hummed with tight lips and ground his jaw.

Granted, the confession stung more than Russell would ever be willing to admit. The tiny, naive part inside of him had constructed a hopeless fantasy of his mother having a sudden change of heart over the last two decades and happily welcoming her firstborn back. Apparently, not a thing had changed, though, and he cursed himself for feeling disheartened.

“But I actually haven’t talked to her in a while now,” Colter added with a small shrug, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Huh, really?”

“Yeah, uh, and when I did, I didn’t exactly tell her I didn’t take her advice, you know? So…”

“Why not?” Russell’s brow furrowed a little more as he analyzed each word, simultaneously realizing why he had been so reluctant to share his life with Colter before – his subconscious had been afraid his alienated little brother would report back to the mothership.

Colter’s lips pursed. “Because I disagree.”

“Ah.”

Colter chewed on his lower lip. “Look, I know you and Dory wanna keep all of this in the past and play family – and trust me, I want that too,” he assured, but his heart was beating fast in his chest. “But I need to know, man. I need to know why she lied about this for twenty years and, you know, did all of this,” he insisted, and yet, Russell could tell he wasn’t done. He might have broken the dam. “She did it to you. I mean, aren’t you mad?”

“Of course I’m mad,” the older Shaw admitted, but there was no fire behind his words.

“Then why are you so calm?”

Amused, Russell chuckled, shrugging. “Probably ‘cause I’ve been dealing with this a lot longer than you, little brother.”

“So, what are we gonna do now?”

“We ain’t gonna do anything,” Russell clarified, his voice stern. He’d die to protect his family, you and the kids, and do anything in his power to keep you out of it, but Colter was a grown-up – a free agent. If he didn’t want to listen, Russell couldn’t force him. “Look, you wanna find out, you go find out. And if you do find something and need help, you call. But I can’t be involved in this,” he explained, his firm expression morphing into something more vulnerable and sincere. “And frankly, I don’t care that much. You, me, Dory, Y/N, the kids – that’s all that matters, trust me. You’re not gonna feel better or more… whole after finding those answers.”

“How do you know? Do you know what really happened?” Colter instantly asked, and Russell knew in that moment, it’d be hopeless. His brother wouldn’t stop till he found it – forever restless.

“No, I told you. I don’t,” Russell repeated, and while he didn’t know everything, he omitted that he knew something.

“What about Y/N?”

Russell froze at the bare mention of your name, his protective instincts kicking in. “Leave her out of this,” he all but snarled.

But Colter didn’t think about stopping. “Did you ever ask her? I mean, she’s CIA. She could probably find out something, right?”

“Yeah, I asked her once, alright? Was a long time ago,” Russell admitted, sighing. The intended lie would stick better if there was some truth to it – you had taught him that.

“C’mon, Russ… And?” Colter impatiently threw his arms up, brow raising higher and higher as he waited for an answer.

“She never found anything,” Russell said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

This time, it wasn’t just an omission. It was a blatant lie.

“I think whatever Dad was involved in – or both of ‘em – was just some activist shit. I don’t think the government cares.” Lie. “We both know he had a mental thing. Paranoid, probably schizophrenic… I mean, Mom used to pump him full of meds sometimes when he got too out of hand.” Truth. He then stole a glance at his little brother and saw the confusion shimmering on his face. Russell scoffed. “You didn’t know that, did you?”

Quietly, Colter shook his head.

“Well, you were a kid,” Russell said and hoped it would curb the blow slightly, although he knew better than that. “He always took something as far back as I can remember. She used to prepare his pills every evening after you and Dory went to bed. But when we moved to the cabin, he started refusing to take them. Said they made him ‘not clear-headed enough.’ Kinda ironic,” he shared and snorted. “When it got too bad, though, she’d still crush ‘em into his food.”

Colter took everything in with a nod but didn’t say anything more.

“You good over there?” Russell checked after a full minute had passed.

“Yeah,” Colter said and even tried to form a reassuring smile before the attempt failed. Instead, he swallowed. “Just a lot, you know? I didn’t know. I mean, I had some idea, but not-… not that.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Russell said, his voice almost a whisper in the silence of the night. “Like I said, you were a kid…”

When Russell finally left the car to sneak back to you, his shoulders felt a little lighter and his heart a little calmer. He might just float through that unlatched window tonight.

The bad news was, though, he might not be able to retire just yet.

Part 5: This Is a Start – FEBRUARY 7

Honestly, I should've called this chapter "Heart-to-Heart Part II" 😂 I'll see you for the finale next week, but as you know, it's not the end for them – only just the beginning 😉

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[kitteecassee]

i’m allowed to go to the same places frequently for dates, i’m also allowed to casually date around/meet new people because i am single and am not looking for any sort of romantic relationship. i just wanna have fun, i’m allowed to have fun-

we all are.

i’ll be damned if i allow someone to try and paint me as the bad guy when i’m living my life freely and no longer being trapped inside a torture box of my own creation.

i treat everyone with nothing but the utmost kindness and you most certainly won’t change that about me.

are you staying in a small town? want to go on dates and feel safe? FREQUENT places, don’t be afraid or shy. in case something happens, there will be multiple witnesses and people you’ve seen that can not only vouch for where you are but who you’re with especially because they’ll probably remember you, your mannerisms especially if you look like you’re having a bad time/are in trouble.

embrace comfort and safety, don’t think you’ve gotta bust your brain trying to come up with complicated date ideas when the classics are always perfectly fine and you weren’t looking for anything serious anyway.

just companionship and a great night.

[moregraceful]

it was once observed by a dear friend that the hours in which i am most alert are like 7pm to 2am which probably explains a lot about how my posts get worse throughout the evening. but also sometimes i look at today where i was just sort of gnawing the couch all day until about 5pm when i wrote an entire fic in two hours and then another entire post about kaapo which to be clear took another two hours bc i had to chase links and explain my passions in a kind way and this was in addition to a church meeting. i would excel as the person who lights and then extinguishes lamps in the night

[myriadebleue]

that Xie Lian guy is right, it do be hurting