#the last year was just too much though - but you know what?

[girl-lostconnection]

Little angst to sprinkle, but Helldiver!Reader who are tired.

God, you are so fucking tired. None of this matters, none of this makes any fucking sense at this point.

You climbed the ranks and you did your due and you paid in blood and flesh and chips of your own sanity. You gave and you gave and you gave.

You trained new cadets, explaining the terminals and heavy nests and fortresses. You have been everywhere command allows space jumps to.

Your ship a big menacing thing, a blade forever suspended in the vast cosmic nothing. Weightless and creaking whenever you have to engage orbital thrusters, chief engineer muttering something under their breath. You never ask what. Engineers can have their superstitions.

You can’t afford to have any.

You can’t afford much at all nowadays, prices biting harder than they ever did, missions deadlier.

You have less and less divers with each year — numbers of your branch diminishing quickly. Frankly, you don’t blame them.

Average age of Helldivers is 18 to 22 years old.

Average survival time out in the field — less than half a minute.

Even with all the propaganda and enlistment perks command simply cannot supply new meat to the frontlines. There is simply no more new meat.

Conditions get worse for rookies, their chances of survival dropping through the crust of the earth. At least when you were starting out you still had a med bay.

At least you managed to scramble some manuals for proper ammunition assembling.

You drag yourself onto the ship, steps heavy and tired — there are black spots in your vision, your head is swimming and you are pretty sure you no longer have anything in your stomach.

Bloody stims devour any available energy source to power your body through the life-threatening injuries.

No wonder you are still limping. Your mind doesn’t understand why the leg that got torn off is in place again.

You don’t really notice Price chatting up your chief administrator when you drag yourself in — bloody and tired, limbs so heavy it’s a miracle you are still standing.

But you can’t call it a day, there are three more missions. Then you can rest.

There are black spots swimming in your vision, you are lightheaded and nauseous, stomach aching — it clenches around nothing, trying to dissolve the food that isn’t there anymore.

You whip out the stim you didn’t dispose after the last mission, needle sliding in your thigh with practiced ease. Your body filling with energy, your vision brighter.

You can finally fucking think again.

There is a heavy silence you don’t notice immediately, too high on the endorphins stims bring. Pain free for the next two minutes or so.

“Captain?”, Price is hovering just behind your shoulder, your fingers twitching around the base of your secondary weapon — you are jumpy straight out of the mission. Automatons start looking like people after too long.

Down on Chort-Bay is hell likes of which you haven’t seen before.

You are not looking forward to jumping down there again. But duty calls, right? No one else would do that. No one is on the orbit right now but you.

“Captain”, you hum, eyes flickering to him for a moment. You have to wipe the visor of your helmet to properly see him — one of the diver’s got blown up on a landmine, his blood is still on your armour.

You don’t have time to wash it off. Not if you want to finish mission before you will need to be up for the next order.

“I noticed…the syringe.”, Price starts after prolonged silence, brows furrowing as he watches you. Eyes the softest blue you ever saw. The summer sky.

You remember the one you saw back at home. The time before helldiving now feels like a feeble attempt of your imagination to cushion the fall from the height of your exhaustion. The time before helldiving feels nowadays like a fairytale.

“Didn’t know you were sick”, he continues and you chuckle, typing in your coordinates. It’s cute that he worries about your health, though understandable. You are still alive and therefore a valuable asset to the command.

“Not sick. Just fucking tired out of my mind. We get a shit ton of stims with every resupply. Probably the only thing we get for free”, your laugh is a dry static-y thing, distorted from helmet, coming out of dynamics in your helmet feeling wrong and twisted.

But Price looks at you now like you have three heads and you try to explain. Perhaps SAS don’t get any of these. Though not like they need the thing, they got actual medics ready to stitch them up as needed.

They got off days and luxuries you cannot afford.

God, you might consider marrying on one of these days. Purely for tax benefits.

“Stims are used to patch us up on the go. Don’t have a whole lotta time to waste. We use them sometimes as energisers as well. A tired soldier is a sloppy soldier and a sloppy soldier is a dead one”, you say, brain fog finally lifting, god, this is good.

“Wouldn’t that constitute addiction with how often soldiers use it?”, John is a heavy stare and deep frown in the line of his mouth, his eyes the prettiest summer sky. “Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

You shrug, checking your gear before getting yourself in the pod and locking your ankles in place.

“Command told us they had scientists test drive the things and they aren’t addictive. Honestly I don’t know much, Captain. You might wanna ask someone with actual degree about the stuff”

You salute him for the road and then the pod slides you down, all ready to go.

Down there hell awaits. Down there torn off limb is the least that could happen.

Down there you could use any help you can get.

Price watches you getting launched down the orbit and turns away, tension coiling in his shoulders.

Price whisks away one of the stim vials, hiding the thing in the pocket and walking away. He will need to have someone check the bloody thing.

There is no way godsend ambrosia that cures torn off limbs and massive bleeding is not addictive.

John remembers the way your whole body buzzed with energy from the moment you pushed it in. Like there was no more pain, no more exhaustion, no more fear.

Like you were high.

And that’s for sure that sloppy soldier is a dead one. But so is the drugged out one. So is you, if his suspension is right.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Hello, my darlings! 🌻

Since it’s been a while since we've last seen our Darlingtons, I thought it would be nice to do a little recap and see where we left our pixel babes. We also have some new folks who joined us during What the Water Gave Me, so if any of you are interested in my historical story, I thought this might be helpful for yall too! I also have a new reader guide, if you're inclined. And as a reminder, I have also added Previous / Next buttons to the 1930s, so if you’d like to catch up on this decade you can begin here.

But before we jump back into the story in earnest, let's take a look at how 1935 has been going....

We opened with Antoine and Josephine on the road, where Antoine's first tour was such a success that his sister and manager Josephine negotiated a deal for two more. Just like she had previously done, she signed the deal with her former employer Hosa Grove without consulting Antoine, although he didn't hesitate nearly as much as he did the first time (or consult his own wife, Zelda).

When Antoine returns home, Zelda almost immediately senses that something has shifted in him. He returns with a stack of songs he's written, which she's too anxious to admit make her feel as though he's moving on to a new stage of his life, one in which she is notably not included in. His assurances carefully avoid answering her actual question, which both of them notice but neither really know how to address as they each try to defer to the other in some way.

Zelda' question to Antoine continues to echo in his mind after she's asked it. Are you happy when you’re out there? What unveils is something that he doesn't really know how to discuss with her, or anyone other than his own guitar: namely that he's filled with pride at his success, and feels as though he's playing not only for himself now, but also generations of Black men who were never given the opportunity he feels as though he has now. Its driving him back on the road, even if he personally may not find happiness in that life for himself.

The only person who Antoine shares this with in some capacity is his former employer, Abraham Hines. Going back on the road also means formally quitting his job on Abe's ranch, which fills Antoine with both sadness and guilt after Abe offered him the job in good faith. But what began as a professional relationship has turned into warm friendship, especially as their children William and Violette are also now close.

As Josephine and Antoine prepare to go back on the road, a sense of normality returns to the household. Antoine and Zelda choose to ignore the misunderstanding between them in favor of enjoying what little time they have together. Meanwhile, the other couple on the farm, Josephine and Giorgio, reach a point of accord after many years of distrust and dissatisfaction. The root of their tension can primarily be traced to Giorgio’s lie that tricked Josephine into moving on the farm in the first place - a life that made her miserable and feel as though she had lost all autonomy in favor of Gio’s dreams.

The scales between them began to tilt when Jo discovered that Gio had taken out a huge loan on their farm, and that he, Antoine, and Zelda had all been lying to her about it. Her initial deal with Hosa paid off a significant portion of the loan, and she now owns 25% of the farm (with Antoine owning another 25% and Gio 50%). This, and the feeling of freedom that she gets on the road, has allowed her to feel stable, and enjoy the quiet domestic life that Gio had tried to corner her into in the first place. Just before she leaves again he gives her a pair of bright red driving gloves, symbolizing his acceptance of the freedom she wants and the accord they've found in their life.

Only before she returns to the road, Jo’s newfound stability is undermined by her relationship with her former employer, Valcita Grove. After learning of Gio’s loan, Jo had taken a job at Val’s bar, and fostered a close relationship between them in part due to their mutual attraction, but also to get back at Gio for lying to her. Now that the she and Gio are in a happier place, Jo returns to Val’s house to borrow her car, only to still be tormented by the same restless thoughts that she had when she was unhappy. Horrified with herself, Jo leaves for their second tour trying to convince herself that whatever she feels for Val (alongside the nagging sensation that she wants something more) can be blown away by the freedom she feels on the road and the love she has for Gio.

Once Antoine and Josephine leave for their second tour, we are left at the farmhouse with Gio and Zelda, who still has the feeling that her husband is moving on without her. She isn't necessarily unhappy, just stuck with the nagging sensation that something is missing from her life, and she’s ended up in a position she didn’t quite sign up for. Meanwhile, she and Giorgio work the failing fields together as they have for years. With their partners gone, they rely on each other in small ways - Gio's good nature curbing Zelda's anxieties, and Zelda's quiet knowledge keeping Gio from fixating on the fact that his dream is on the cusp of failing.

On a hot Summer day a book truck interrupts the menial life that the two of them are living alongside Zelda and Antoine's daughter Violette. As Violette runs around the book truck excitedly, Zelda immediately gets distracted by it, instantly forgetting her anxieties surrounding parenting her child or the melancholia that her life is missing something. Violette finds a copy of her favorite book, The Wizard of Oz, while Zelda talks to the driver, Alexander Barnes, who gives her his card and invites her to come to his office at the town courthouse.

Rather than take him up on this offer, Zelda agonizes over her desire to do so. When she goes to pick up Violette from school, she muses on how young and full of potential the children are - mirroring her own feeling that her life path is set and any sort of potential change she may long for is childish and imagined. After enthusiastically agreeing with Violette's teacher that her daughter begin ballet lessons, she turns around to look at the courthouse, imagining that she simply crosses the street to ask Alexander Barnes more about the book truck. But just before her daughter emerges, Zelda decides that it was nothing but a foolish daydream.

Meanwhile, Antoine and Josephine's days on the road stretch out, effecting Violette, who is now almost eleven years old. Always closer to her father and aunt, their absence has made her distrustful, angry, and heightened her sense of abandonment. We see her coping through ballet, as she focuses all her energy into perfecting her steps rather than counting down the days until her father returns.

—

And so we last saw our Darlingtons…

- Antoine following the pull of music, approaching a crossroads where he may have to chose it or his family, but unsure if it even makes him happy at all.

- Zelda feeling restless and left behind, within sight of something she wants for her life but too anxious to follow it in earnest.

- Giorgio willing to give up control and share in Jo’s vision of their future, but perhaps at the end of the line of how much he’s willing to give up quietly.

- Josephine finally finding some sense of peace and happiness, only to still unwittingly feeling a restless pull from deep inside of her that she rather ignore than battle.

- And our heiress, Violette, on the cusp of her preteen years developing her independence and emotional maturity in a warped way. She’s channeling her loneliness into perfecting an art that she was already talented at, and developing an understanding that dreams may always lie just outside of Strangerville city limits.

[the-heliophile]

COFFEE - SEVIKA

FROM FOURMI 🐜💌 Currently suffering from an unhealthy Vi, Sevika and Ambessa obsession, yes I have a type what can I say I love hot women that can just throw me around

song. coffee, chappell roan

pairing. ex!Sevika x ex!reader

content. angst/sadness, no happy ending, kind of toxic Sevika?, no use of she/her but fem implied reader

summary. your ex Sevika asks you to meet up for drinks and you try not to end up in her bed again

You were lounging in bed, still blinking away the fog in your eyes when you got a text. You picked up the phone and squinted to read the time, 8:36AM, you sighed before looking at the actual text.

Unknown number : up for drinks later today?

You sighed, knowing exactly who it was from and how it would end. You and Sevika had broken up over three months ago but you still received an occasional text from her. You fought the urge to answer right away, taking a deep breath and trying to calm your heartbeat first. After a few minutes you gathered the strength to type out an answer.

You : sure, coffee after work ?

Unknown number : only coffee ?

You : I kind of have plans for tonight sorry

"I'd suggest the jazz bar on MaryAnn Street but,

You'd buy me a drink and we know where that leads, so"

You had made that mistake too many times, meeting Sevika for drinks at the end of a rough day, expecting it to end with you parting ways amicably just to be proven wrong each and every time. There was something to her, an allure that you quite couldn't resist, as if her soul was calling out to yours but her heart was constantly pushing you away. It was the reason you had broken up in the first place, her pushing you away, keeping out of the loop so you would never get involved in Silco's business. She meant well and you knew it, but there was only so much you could take. Too many nights where you'd stare at the clock wondering if she would make it home this time, too many times only getting to see her in the early hours of the morning just for her to be too drunk to even speak. You wanted, needed security, someone who could spare some time for you, confide in you and make you feel like a partner instead of a child they must keep out of everything.

"I'll meet you for coffee 'cause if we have wine

You'll say that you want me, I know that's a lie"

You remember the last time you agreed to go out for drinks with Sevika. You both stayed at the Last Drop for several hours, reminiscing the good moments of your relationship, catching up on each other's lives. It only took a couple drinks for the look in her eyes to go from its usual detachment to that dark arousal you'd see whenever she would get home after a hard day. And it was only a couple more drinks that led to Sevika kissing your neck in the back of the bar, she still remembered every erogenous zone, every sensitive spot there and she was kissing them almost earnestly. You crumbled in a few minutes and you ended up in her bed, once again, and once again you promised yourself it would be the last time. She never had any regards for you in the morning, barely addressing you while you were picking your clothes up and getting dressed, it made you feel dirty and yet you could never resist, you always fell for the sweet nothings she had whispered in your ear in her drunk haze.

"If I didn't love you, it would be fine"

Sevika knew she was hurting you every time it happened, but you also hurt her when you broke up with her. She was trying to do the good thing in your relationship, saw you as a light she did not want to dim with stories of the things she did. The truth was that Sevika loved you, in her own way, but she saw you as something fragile, breakable that she should protect. She was incredibly angry and hurt that you had broken up with her after two years, despite all the times she had explained her reasoning, she felt as though it was selfish of you and so she refused to let you just move on. Whenever she found herself missing you she would send a text, asking to go out, knowing full well you would never say no. She would never ask you to take her back, instead she would rather wait until you asked for her to come back to you, but every single time you joined her for the evening Sevika could tell how stiff you were, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and refusing to look in her agate eyes. Every night ultimately ended up with you in her bed and her almost urging you out in sheer frustration that you wouldn't make the first move. So even if she knew her actions were hurting you, she also knew you still had feelings for her and she texted you once again, capitalizing on your feelings for her to secure a spot by your side, albeit temporarily.

"I'll meet you for coffee, only for coffee,

Nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your place"

You had just gotten home from work and you immediately started getting ready, there was a little skip in your step for the whole way home, the idea that you would get to meet up with Sevika for something other than getting drunk was making you feel almost giddy. While doing your make-up your mind started drifting to all the soft moments exchanged between Sevika and you and eventually memories of your drunk nights together. Eventually the giddiness faded into bitterness, the corners of your mouth lowering from the grin you were sporting earlier and your shoulders slumping slightly. You knew, deep down you knew. It wouldn't be just coffee, she'd suggest the Last Drop and you'd agree with a "something came up" text to your friends. And once more you'd wake up in her bed feeling used. You look at yourself in the mirror, feeling Sevika's hand around your heart tightening, you were almost fully done up but your mood had significantly worsened compared to when you stepped into your bedroom.

"So let's not do coffee, let's not even try,

It's better we leave it and give it some time"

You let out a defeated sigh before grabbing your phone, typing a quick text to the number you still haven't saved again since you deleted it the first time because "that way you won't be tempted to text her".

You : Sorry, something came up, raincheck?

Unknown number : Sure, what about Saturday?

You : I'll be busy sorry, but I'll text you when I can !

You lied, you won't text her, not again, it had to end. It was time for you to move on and get on with your life. You shed a few tears, your mascara now running down your cheeks and take a deep breath to steady yourself. Promising yourself it was the very last time you had given her the time of day.

''Cause If we do coffee, it's never just coffee,

It's never just coffee"

[foolinthera1n]

✮ BORN TO DIE

─ dw x fem!reader

cw! angst, blood, break ups, fighting, mentions of death, slight religious aspects

dean didn't think. he didn't breathe, didn't blink, didn't even take his eyes off the road as he sped the impala down the highway, fingers white-knuckled on the steering wheel. he hadn't taken his foot off the gas since he got in the car, not since he heard your voicemail, and he only stepped on it harder when bobby called.

the shakiness of your voice haunted him, the spluttering laugh that turned into a gut wrenching coughing fit echoed like a broken record in his head, only making him push the speed limit harder. bobby's voice had been calm, but dean could hear the undertone of panic in the old man's voice that reflected his own.

so dean drove as fast as he could without burning baby's tires, his heart in his throat as your last confession rang in his ears.

i'm just sorry i wont get to tell you i love you one last time.

it was dean's birthday, of all days─not that he ever really celebrated it. in fact sam had been out grabbing pie and a case of beers for the two of them, when dean had finally checked his phone after being caught up in a shifter case all day, his heart dropping as he saw you had left him a voicemail.

he knew you wouldn't call unless something was seriously wrong, you had told him as much the last time you called, which was mostly telling him to stop drunk calling you. so his hands had shaken as he lifted the phone to his ear, his whole body freezing as your weak voice and self proclaimed last words were spoken through the phone.

it was by some miracle that bobby's call came just as your voicemail had finished, because only god knows what he would have done if he had been left to his own devices after possibly listening to you die in a voicemail. a fucking voicemail.

the only thing that stopped dean from going insane was bobby telling him that he had you, that he thinks you're stable, but he can't be sure, and he thinks dean is gonna want to see you.

so he didn't hesitate, not for a second, to throw his jacket on and grab his keys, only leaving sam a curt note about where he was going. thankfully, they weren't too far from bobby's place in sioux falls, having just come from a pit stop there themselves, so the only thing dean had to focus on was remembering the exit to take in a few miles.

as he drove though, he thought about you. he didn't want to think about your weak, shortening breaths that could be heard through the speaker of the phone, or the spluttering of blood from your mouth that he heard when you had coughed, so he focused on the last time he saw you.

you were beautiful. even when you were angry, especially when you were angry, like you were then, you were beautiful. and although his own anger simmered under his skin, he found himself lost in the way your lips moved as you spoke, and how the dim lighting of the motel room you were staying in cast a glow over you that formed a halo around your head, making you look angelic.

dean hated angels, he really did. and ever since finding out what brainless dicks they really were a few years ago, he doesn't like to compare things to them, but you. oh, you. dean thought that if he went back to the first days of existence and asked anyone what they thought an angel was, they would draw a picture of you.

you, with your eyes narrowed and lips pursed, shoulders tensed as you yelled at him, calling him overbearing and accusing him of not trusting you. god, he had wanted to kiss you so bad. he knew he could, you'd said before with a giggle that you loved when he shut you up by kissing you, but he'd figured in that moment that he wasn't allowed to do that.

it was only when you suggested that maybe things weren't going to work out anymore that he snapped out of it.

"what?" he had asked, heart dropping to his stomach as his eyes went wide. "what the hell are you talking about? we just need to talk it out."

"that's the problem, dean," you had argued, and dean had never hated himself more than when he saw the tears welling in your breath taking eyes. "we always say we're gonna talk it out, but we never do. it ends with us in the sheets, and just builds until we fight again, because you're too afraid to face your goddamn feelings!"

that had snapped something in dean, the accusation hitting right on the money as the natural instinct to push you away bubbled to the surface, rearing it's ugly head. "oh, i'm too scared?" he had spat, taking a step closer to you. "well, sweetheart, you're the one who is so incompetent that i have to save your ass every goddamn time!"

every second of every day since that moment, he wished he could take that back. he had said a lot of things during your relationship, but the one thing that he never insulted was your ability as a hunter. that was something that you just never did. and he knew he fucked up as soon as he had seen your face fall, tears welling so thickly in your hurt eyes that he hadn't been sure you could still see.

"is that how you feel?" you had asked, your voice small and breaking slightly.

dean had swallowed, trying to force down the self sabotaging words that were crawling up his throat, but they spilled out before he could stop them. "yeah. it is."

you had just looked at him with a searing hurt in your eyes that had burned a hole in his weeping heart, a tear finally slipping down your flushed cheek. "well, if that's really how you feel, then maybe i should just leave."

his bleeding heart had begged, cried, and screamed for him to take it back, to grab you in his arms and hold you until you stopped crying, for him to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness until his bones ached and you smiled at him again.

but he didn't.

he just looked away from you, fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he fought off tears of his own and muttered through gritted teeth, "maybe you should."

dean hadn't looked at you, but he had felt the weight of your stare as it burned through his bones. he still hadn't looked at you when you had muttered a broken, "fine", and walked over to the bed, and threw your stuff into your beat up duffle bag without a word.

you had stormed past him, your shoulder brushing his, but dean didn't stop you as you reached for the door. he only turned to face you when he heard you stop, forcing himself to keep a stoic expression, even as his aching mind, soul, and body begged him to grab you and not let you leave.

you had turned to face him then, your hand lingering on the doorknob, and he thinks a piece of his soul was chipped away when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks.

dean had never used the term devastatingly beautiful, but that's what you had been then. because although the pain he had caused you was written on the features he cherished so much, tears dragging your makeup down your face, you still looked beautiful. devastatingly beautiful.

and even though the next words you had spoken had torn him into pieces, the beauty of you, inside and out, never left his rotten mind.

"i wish it wasn't so easy to love you."

dean snaps out of it as a mile sign whizzes by, and his vacant eyes flick to the speedometer to see that he's doing about twenty over the speed limit. he doesn't care though, all he cares about is that your heart is still beating. whether it's for him or not.

dean bursts into bobby's house, not bothering to knock as he rushes in, slamming the door behind him.

"bobby?" he calls out, trying to keep his voice level as no answer comes. "damnit, bobby, where are you?"

he's about to completely tear the place down when there's a rustling followed by heavy footsteps and a familiar voice. "don't blow the house down, boy, i'm right here."

bobby comes around the corner, into the hallway, and though usually there's a comfort in seeing the man dean considers a father figure, this time there's still an aching panic in his chest.

"where is she? is she okay? what happ-" dean cuts himself off as his eyes drift down to bobby's hands, which are covered in blood. your blood. "oh god.."

the old man seems to notice the look of pure terror on dean's face, and follows his gaze down to his hands, sighing at the sight of the blood.

"she's okay, dean," bobby tells him, taking a step towards him, and dean thinks he might be shaking. "there was a moment where-" he cuts himself off, looking away for a moment, as if debating what to say before he meets dean's gaze again. "there was a moment where i thought she wasn't, but she pulled through. she's okay now."

the moment the sincerity and truth of bobby's words rang through dean's head, he felt like he could finally breathe again. he let's out a deep exhale, wobbling slightly on his feet as he runs a hand over his face, cursing to himself softly.

after he takes a second to collect himself and calm his racing heart, he looks up at bobby, brow furrowed as he swallows down the suffocating panic. "can...can i see her?"

the old man hesitates, a protective edge in his eyes that makes dean realize that you probably told him everything. he watches as bobby thinks it over, before the old man sighs, his shoulders dropping slightly as he nods.

"yeah..you can see her," bobby agrees, but as dean takes a step forward, he holds up his hand, stopping dean in his tracks with a pointed look. "but i'm not so sure she's gonna want you there when she wakes up, kid. so if she opens her eyes and freaks out when she sees you, then y're gonna have to leave."

that chips another piece of dean's heart away, the fragment falling further into the pit of self despair that has been building in dean's chest since he hurt you and let you walk away from him.

"please, bobby," he rasps, his voice breaking slightly as emotions blur in his head. "i just need to see her. i...i just need to see she's okay."

the old man looks slightly shocked at the desperation in dean's voice, and something softens in his gaze. "she's been through a lot, boy," he sighs, giving dean a pointed look, though this time it's less menacing. "and i love you like my own, but right now she's my priority and if you being here is gonna stop her from healin', then i'm sorry dean, but y'cant stay."

dean nods, forcing himself to swallow the lump in his throat that threatens to choke him. "i don't wanna hurt her," he responds, his voice dropping to a pained whisper. "not more then i already have. i just- she called me, and hearin' her on the phone like that? thinkin' that might be the last time i ever hear her voice, on a fucking voicemail?"

he cuts himself off, averting his eyes from bobby as he forces the tears that burn behind his eyes to stay hidden. "i need to see her, bobby. please."

there's a moment of silence, and when dean lifts his eyes, bobby is staring right back at him, his expression slightly shocked at the rare display of emotions from him. but after a moment, the old man nods, stepping back and gesturing for dean to follow him.

at first he just stands there, but then he's rushing after bobby, each step determined but shaky as he follows the man into the main room.

dean's eyes scan the room, frantically searching for you, and when he finally does, he freezes.

you're laying on the couch, eyes closed and so pale. your skin is void of almost all of its usual color, your cheeks sunken and your lips chapped and sullen. the only thing keeping dean from passing out or falling to his knees in front of you and praying until you wake up is the shaky rise and fall of your chest that he can see under the blanket that bobby's placed over you.

said man places a comforting hand on dean's shoulder, but dean doesn't turn around, even as he hears bobby's footsteps echo down the hallway. he can't move his eyes from you, scared that if he does, you'll somehow slip from his grasp again.

he takes a couple hesitant steps closer and something curls in his gut, gripping his heart and wrenching it until it bleeds as he lets his eyes roam over your face. your familiar features are pale and sullen, but still, dean can't think of anything he's ever seen that's more beautiful than you.

devastatingly beautiful. that term pops into his head again, and this time, the words stab at something deep inside him, something he's always been too afraid to name.

because you are. and it's not just your features─though dean swears you could power a whole city just from smiling, the way it lights up your face─it's your mind, your soul, the way you laugh, the softness of your voice. it's everything. it's you.

you are devastatingly beautiful because you devastate him, crashing your way into his heart over and over again, making him high off you, making him never want to come down.

dean has to remind himself to breathe as he tentatively walks over to where you're laying, exhaling shakily before falling to his knees on the floor in front of you as if he was sitting in front of an altar, about to worship.

his now teary eyes scan over you, and before he can stop himself, he reaches a shaky hand out and brushes some of your hair out of your face.

lightning strikes through him as his skin touches yours, and he fights the urge to pull back, letting his fingertips lightly trace your cheek before his hand drifts down, finding your own and intertwining your fingers.

when he doesn't feel the familiar squeeze back of your hand, something in him breaks.

his head drops to your shoulder, his body shaking as quiet sobs tear from his chest, his teats staining the flannel you wore, his face buried into the fabric.

"i'm sorry,” he rasps through sobs, turning his head into your shoulder, burrowing into the skin of your neck, nausea creeping up his throat when he doesn’t feel your familiar warmth. he presses his lips against your skin, unable to stop the million apologies that spill from his lips. “i’m sorry, sweetheart, i'm so sorry. i love you, i’m sorry. ’m sorry, im so sorry.”

dean stays there, head pressed against you, sobbing quietly into your skin as he clings to you, praying to anyone that would listen that you would wake up. that you would come back to him and he could hold you in his arms and sob a million more apologies into your skin until you forgave him, even if he didn't deserve it.

he needed you to come back to him. he needed your touch, your kiss, your laughter, your stupid jokes that always made him laugh, your whispered words, and your loving stare.

he needed you.

and in that moment dean decided that when you woke up─not if, because he didn't know what he would do if he let himself think about that─he would try his damn hardest to get you back, because even though he doesn't think he deserves happiness, he knew he had it with you.

when you left, and took that piece of him with you, he broke. and all he wanted was to let you fix him again.

but you couldn't. because even as dean cried against you, you didn't stir, didn't flinch, the only reason he knew you were still hanging on was the shallow rise and fall of your chest under where his hand, intertwined with yours was rested firmly, and dean didn't know if he'd ever get that happiness back.

and as he sat there with you, at the foot of the altar he would give his all just to be worthy enough to worship, all he could think about was how he was begging for whatever God or being was listening that if they took you from him, they better fucking take him too.

because even if you hated him, even if you cursed him out, screamed at him to never talk to you again, dean didn't want to live in this world if you weren't in it.

bri's thoughts!: okay so this took me kinda long to finish, and was lowkey supposed to be out for my baby's birthday, but oh well. i don't rlly know if i like this, but i already started a part two, so lmk if anybody wants that! also my first time writing from dean's perspective and like angst so i apologize if this is bad, but i hope u enjoyed! (ps this is not proofread, and as always, was written at 1am, so this might be bad..)

TAGS!: (i don't rlly have a taglist so i just tagged some of my mutuals, but lmk if u wanna be added or removed) @ultravi0lence14 @bluemerakis @titsout4jackles @floralscented @soldiersgirl

[g4rvez-r3id]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You left the BAU and your boyfriend, Spencer, after a case took a hefty toll on you. You only left behind a letter, explaining yourself and why you had to leave. Four years later, you find yourself back in DC on a whim. You learn that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

Category: Angst

Warnings: NO HAPPY ENDING, mentions of a past case, mentions of trauma, case related things, reader getting kidnapped but only mentioned, reader lowkey being stalker-y, arguing, mentions of 2x15 “Revelations” but it’s brief, takes place in Season 9 but this is with the Season 7 team, angst angst angst

It’d been four years since he last saw you. You’d left the BAU after a particular case took a massive toll on you and you’d decided the best thing to do at the time was leave.

It was a case in your hometown, no less — the team had no leads and all they had to go off were three bodies tattooed with some kind of weird symbol on their bodies. Before joining the BAU, you were in the taskforce and you’d dealt with something similar. The victims had all been women and the symbol was some kind of branding initiation. You never caught the guy.

And when the team finally got a lead, you and Morgan were sent to check the place out. Unfortunately, it ended with Morgan being knocked out cold and you being kidnapped.

It took the team four days to find you. You were tortured, slashes on your body and the amount of mental trauma you endured during that time was disturbing. He managed to gather most of your team’s belongings and present them in blood as if it were proof that they were dead. You were led to believe that your team was dead for four days.

But by the fourth day, they realized that their unsub was someone who worked for the PD and luckily, they cracked it down and found you. You almost believed that they weren’t real, that everyone was a figment of your imagination. It took Spencer approaching you and actually touching you for you to realize that this was real. That your team was still alive.

And the case took a toll on you. Even after you passed your psych evals and came back to the BAU, you were still flinching at anyone touching you. And unfortunately, it just became too much in the end that you left.

The only person you explained yourself to was Spencer. You left behind a letter for him, I know, not great thinking on your part considering that’s how Gideon and his father left him. But you knew if you talked to him face to face, he would’ve talked you into staying. He was your boyfriend, he always had a way with words that no one else did. And you knew he’d try and get you to stay because this was where you belonged. But you felt totally alone. Even though the team was there for you, you still felt alone.

Four years have passed since you left. And as expected, the only person that found you was the BAU’s very own Penelope Garcia. You only allowed her to tell the team that you were okay and that you were safe but not to tell them where you were. For the last four years, you thought about the team every day.

So what exactly pursued you to come back all of a sudden? Call it homesickness, say it was only because you missed everyone dearly and started thinking about them a lot more recently. Or maybe it was because you only missed Spencer. That’s why you were standing outside of his apartment unit, right?

You were outside, staring at the tall building and you had no idea what brought you here but you were here. It was like you woke up and all of a sudden, you were here. You had no idea what brought you here. But you walked out that door and your feet took you here.

Spencer had been invading your mind as of recently. You had no idea why but it probably had to do with the fact that his birthday was recently. His thirty-second birthday. You wondered what he did, you wondered how he spent his birthday. Did he spend it with the team? Did he spend it with his mom? You wondered if showing up was a mistake. Maybe it was.

Spencer, on the other hand, was carrying about his night in his apartment. It had been one of those nights where he couldn’t sleep, so he’d started the day off at 3am. Probably not the smartest idea because he’d be tired by the end of the day, but at least there was coffee.

He’d turned on the coffee machine and got his crossword of the day ready at the kitchen table. He’d decided to bring some light in by walking towards the curtains and opening them. Granted, there wasn’t going to be a lot of light, but it would’ve helped. Plus, something told him to just open the curtains, so he did.

When he opened the curtain, he usually has a good look at the front of his building. Who’s coming, who’s going, what’s going on. And when he looks down, he sees something odd. Something that makes him question if he’s hallucinating. Have the schizophrenic symptoms finally taken over? Because there’s no way he’s seeing you, right here and right now.

And you’re staring right back at him. In the flesh. And you’re not a figment of his imagination, you can’t be. There were times after you left, where he thought about you and that other women he’d passed by were you. But this wasn’t like those other times. This was different.

Spencer was quick to scramble out of his apartment, almost toppling over his own feet as he struggles to get his slippers on and quickly rushes out of his apartment, down the stairs and towards the entrance of the building. Mind racing with questions and wanting answers as opens the door and blinks as he looks around for you. Because now you’ve disappeared.

Spencer looks around. You couldn’t have gotten far. He even opts to call out your name to the gods. There was no way you were figment of his imagination. You couldn’t have been. You were staring back at him. He’d almost forgotten what you looked like. And he doesn’t forget anything.

You’d managed to escape right when you saw him back away from his window and grabbed a taxi and ordered the driver to take you anywhere but here. You looked behind you and saw Spencer was in the middle of the street, wondering where you disappeared off to.

You had to leave. It was the only option you needed to take. You ended up getting a hotel early that morning. You still had no idea what you were doing here in DC. And it didn’t do you any good with Spencer seeing you. You hated to think it but you’d hoped that he thought that maybe you were just a figment of his imagination. You didn’t want him to go and ask Garcia where you were since she was the only person that knew. And you knew she’d give in because she wasn’t that great at keeping secrets.

Since you opted for staying for a few days, you had to be incognito. And that meant avoiding Spencer at all cost. That didn’t help when all the places you used to go to, you introduced him to.

You thought you were safe going to your local coffee shop this morning, but you walked in right when he was getting his order and you were quick to hide behind a very tall, burly man and rush out of the coffee shop.

Unfortunately, to your luck, Spencer saw you. Or at least thought maybe he did. He’d spotted you the minute you hid behind that burly man and then when you practically ran out of the coffee shop.

He definitely wasn’t imagining you now. He’d seen as you ran far away from the shop and called your name, probably looking like a total lunatic as he yelled your name across the street. You were most definitely caught now. Your jig was up. You should’ve expected this to happen.

Penelope 💕: You’re in town?

Sent 12:34pm

Penelope💕: And don’t even try and lie, Spencer blew your cover.

Sent 12:34pm

Penelope💕: Also, he tried bribing me with a croissant to figure out where you are. I can only hold on for so long!

Sent 12:35pm

Penelope managed to spam your cell phone when you got back to the hotel after your harrowing escape. You decided to send a quick reply with a sigh falling from your lips.

You: Please please PLEASE don’t tell him where I am.

Sent 12:37pm

Penelope💕: Okay, fine. But under one condition.

Sent 12:38pm

You: Which is?

Sent 12:38pm

Penelope💕: Come out with us to O’Keefe’s tonight! It’ll be lowkey, everyone on the team will be there! And you get to straighten this whole thing out because even JJ is asking questions now!

Sent 12:39pm

Your biggest thing was that you didn’t want anyone knowing you were here. You don’t even know what sparked you even showing up in the first place. What were you going to tell them if they’d asked why you were here? There were so many questions you wanted to avoid. Because you’d just left without a trace.

You: Oh, Penny. I don’t know… :/

Sent 12:40pm

Penelope💕: Oh, just consider it! It could be fun for you!

Easy for you to say, Penelope. But she had a point. Maybe it could be fun, seeing the team again. Morgan, Rossi, Spencer. Then again, you almost wanted to avoid him because of how you left him. Was he the only thing holding you back from going tonight? Not to mention, did anyone else know exactly how you left him? They could’ve hated you just as much as you knew he hated you. Your phone dings again.

Penelope💕: I know your gears are turning but trust me, everyone really wants to see you again! Emily was literally talking about you the other day. Please! With sugar on top!

Sent 12:43pm

Okay, that made you feel a little bit better. You did miss them. Maybe Penelope would be the one to help you with your decision.

You: Fine, I’ll make an appearance. But only for an hour!

Sent 12:45pm

Penelope💕: YESSSSS 🥳 I’ll send you deets after work! 😊

Sent 12:45pm

Your plan to avoid Spencer backfired on you, oh, so greatly. Maybe you still could avoid him. Maybe he decided not to go to O’Keefe’s once he found out you were gonna be there.

He never liked the bar scene anyways. He hardly drank since what happened with Tobias Hankel. You prayed for the slight chance that he wouldn’t come drinking with the team. And you even hoped Garcia may have been so excited to tell Spencer that you were coming, she’d blurt it out to him and maybe he wouldn’t go. You hoped you were right.

I hate this already, I hate this already, I hate this already. You thought in your head as you walked to O’Keefe’s. It’s been a while since you’ve been in this area. Your mind is built with memories of walking these same streets with Spencer, arm in arm as he rambled about just about anything. Your heart broke in two as you thought about those times, so simple and delicate before they got ruined. By you.

You walked towards the bar and entered the building, scouting out to look for the team until a chippy voice shouted your name. “Y/N!” Your eyes trailed over to the bubbly blonde, “Over here!” She waves her arm over and you walk over pretty slowly as you join them.

“Well, as I live and breathe!” Morgan stands from his seat, welcoming you with a hug. “It’s good to see you.” You muffle into his shirt that it’s good to see him too and by then everyone pretty much follows with a hug and Rossi kisses both of your cheeks in welcoming. Everyone seems happy to see you. Everyone except Spencer, who keeps sipping his drink and looking anywhere but you like you don’t even exist. And he has the right to that. But he’s not gonna ruin this, tonight.

The night consists of everyone asking you how you’ve been and what you’ve been up to. And not that Spencer cares but he overhears as you mention you work at a desk job in California — the place he knows you’ve always wanted to live — and that you recently got a new cat and that you don’t have a boyfriend. Again, not that he cares.

And then he catches onto something you say. About how you were sorry you left the team so abruptly. And Spencer scoffs under his breath as he spoke — “Least you’re explaining yourself in person now, right?”

Spencer met your eyes and everyone sat there awkwardly after the fact. You knew what that was. A diss at how you left him. You knew how he was. He got petty. And when he got petty, he got mean. It didn’t help that he’d been nursing his drink a bit, too.

Garcia had distracted everyone, asking to join her on the dance floor, to which Morgan, JJ, Emily and even you obliged. Spencer had declined, deciding to stay at your table and Rossi and Hotch went over to the bar to get more drinks for everyone.

Spencer’s jaw clenched as he watched you dance with the rest of his team. How can they act like you didn’t just up and leave them three years ago? Like everything was fine again? How could they just sit there and laugh with you when you broke their hearts when you left? He didn’t forget how Garcia cried for weeks, or how frustrated Morgan was when he found out, or how Emily kept turning over to your empty desk to tell you something but forgot you weren’t there and how heartbroken you left him when he read your letter over and over again.

I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry. He could see your handwriting in the back of his mind. The wires in his head crossing as he wrapped his head around the fact that you were here. I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry. He told you that you two were gonna be fine, you were going to get through this together. I can’t stay here. I love you. I’m sorry. But you left. You left and you didn’t turn back. How could you leave him like that? The same way his dad did, the same way Gideon did. I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry.

Finding himself growing frustrated, Spencer decides to leave. He can’t stay here. Not while you’re here, not while the team can act like they’re happy to see you. He’s infuriated. And he needs to go.

He slams a twenty down at the table and lets Hotch and Rossi know he’s leaving. They don’t even attempt to get him to say, exchanging a knowing glance at the fact it was because you were here but he wasn’t going to pay any attention to that. He heads for the door but he doesn’t realize he’s had an audience this whole time.

You were watching him. You couldn’t help it. You hated the way he glared at you. It pained you that you caused this. You were the reason he hated you. So, when you saw him leave, you decided that maybe you needed to talk, one on one without anyone else present.

You excused yourself to everyone, saying you going to get some water and that you’d be right back and exited the building, seeing as Spencer was about eight feet ahead of you and calling his name. “Spencer!”

Spencer scoffs, turning around as you fiddle your hands together, approaching him. You did that when you were nervous. “Can we talk, please?” Spencer turns back around and continues walking. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

“Yes, we do. And you know it.” You say as you catch up to him even if he continues walking away from you. “Spencer, I know you hate the way I left. And trust me, I did, too but you can’t blame me forever.”

“Well, I have,” Spencer turns around and faces you. “You left, or did you forget that? Because I sure as hell didn’t.”

“Spencer—”

“You left. You wrote a letter to me, just like my dad and just like Gideon because you were a coward and couldn’t face me. We could’ve worked it out, we could’ve talked about it, Y/n!”

“I couldn’t talk to you about it!” And now here you were, shouting at him, this was the last thing you wanted when you decided to come here tonight.

“Why not?”

“Because I know you’d talk me out of leaving!” You take a deep breath. “And I didn’t want that. I needed not to be persuaded by you, I needed to think about this. And I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t. And I hated that I did that to you, it haunts me every single day.” Your voice wavered when you said the last sentence. “Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you. You have to know that I’m sorry.” You go to touch him but he’s quick to back away from you.

“Oh, and you’re making amends now?” Spencer questioned. “You’re just acting like what you didn’t matter? Well, it mattered to me, Y/n. You left and you didn’t care!”

“I did.” You argued.

“No, you didn’t. ‘I can’t do this anymore’? ‘I love you, I’m sorry’?” You furrow your brows at this. And all he can think is — how can you not remember the most painful words you’d ever written to him? “You wrote that to me in your letter. Your letter that you left behind to me, along with your badge and gun. You can’t just slam this door closed and pretend like you’re not at fault when you’re completely at fault. You hurt me, in the only way a person could. How could you do that?”

“I know, I know!” You tell him, shutting your eyes as you pull your hair back away from your face. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. But I couldn’t be there anymore. I wasn’t the same girl that you fell in love with. And you deserved better.”

“I deserved better than that.” Spencer retorted and you nod with a sniffle, “Yeah, yeah, you did.” You admit defeat, wiping your nose.

You walk closer to him as he stares at the ground. “And I’m so sorry,” You tell him. He still avoids your eyes, opting for the ground until he feels your hand on his cheek and you force him to meet his eyes. “And I’m telling the truth. I thought about you everyday. And I love you, I could never lie about that. Ever.”

Spencer looks into your eyes and you can’t make what’s in them. Anger? Sadness? Regret? All of the above? “Why did you come back?” The question lingers above your head and you try to come up with a valid reason in your head. But you can’t come with anything. Why did you come back? You could’ve left this alone, you could’ve moved on because that was the way life went. You could go on, forget anything happened. Was it some form of a guilty conscience for leaving him? Was it closure? Did you need to move on? Did you need Spencer to move on before you could? “I don’t know.” You answer.

“That’s not an answer.” Spencer tells you and you back away from with a scoff, “Well, then what do you want to hear, Spencer? I don’t know why I’m here. I just know that I am now.”

“Why? Did you expect to get back together or something? That maybe I’d just forget what happened and leave it behind in the past like nothing did?” It was obvious he couldn’t forget it.

“No, I-I didn’t expect that, at all—!”

“Then, why?”

“I don’t… know.” Maybe you did know why. Maybe you still loved him. But you couldn’t. Not in this way at least.

“You can’t just stumble your way back into my life simply because — what? You’re lonely, all of a sudden? Is that it?”

You’d had enough. This was pointless when all he was doing was arguing with you and making you feel even worse than you already did. You shake your head — “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“Maybe you need to,” He argued. “Y/n, you were cruel to me. And somehow, you were also the best thing that happened to me. I loved you, did you know that? I tried moving on, I tried — but that didn’t even work out.” It makes you wonder why. But it’s not your business. “When I saw you again, all I could think about was how you left. And how much it hurt when you did. And you’re back now and now I’m more confused than ever. I hate you for coming back. But… I… I can’t even wrap my head around this. I can’t… I can’t be around you. I need to go.”

Spencer shakes his head and begins to walk away. You watch as he does so but not before you tell him — “I knew,” You say and he stops in his tracks. “And for the record, I loved you, too.”

Spencer stands still for a moment before he continues walking. And he turns his back on you, just like you did him years ago. There was time where he would’ve spun around and forgave you and held you and kissed you until you needed a breather but that time was long gone. Because now, he couldn’t even stand to be around you. You watched as he walked away from you and you know you deserve that.

You two were on different paths and maybe that’s the way it had to be. You’d book a flight back home when you got back to your hotel tonight. Because he was right, you couldn’t stumble back into his life, begging for forgiveness when you left him the way you did. That was the way life went, you move on.

And you supposed you should start doing that now. Since Spencer was on his way to doing so, already.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

endure & survive | iv. the storm

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x single mother!reader

chapter content: MINORS DNI, written in dual POV/first person POV, no description/name given to reader, reader is a single mother, age gap (twenty-ish years), descriptions of blood/stitches, grief, talks of dead bodies, panic attack, unproofread bc i’m lazy

word count: 2.8k

series masterlist | previous chapter

JOEL

“Everybody good?” It’s a question meant for one person in particular—the woman that just got the air kicked out of her—but with what the kids just saw, there’s no harm in asking them, too.

“Good,” Ellie says, although her voice is quiet. Even if I didn’t know her, I’d be able to tell that she’s lost in her head. After what she did, I’d be lost, too.

“I need…” My attention lands on our host—Red, I think I’ll call her, to match the fire in her eyes. She’s resting one arm against the kitchen counter, the other cradling her ribs. “I don’t know.”

I’m walking over to her before I even realize I’m doing it, my hands reaching out to steady her as she sways a bit and goes clammy. “Y’need to lay down.”

“Need to wash…the blood…” I look down, scanning her body to find a clean slice up her arm dripping blood onto the wooden planks beneath us.

“Shit,” I curse under my breath. Guiding her over to one of the chairs at the dining table, I have to glower at her to get her to sit. “Y’got a med kit?”

She nods, weakly pointing to the cabinet above the sink.

“Ellie, can you boil some water?” I glance at her as I reach to grab the med kit, finding her still in that state of shock.

She needs to get up, to find ways to busy her mind and hands so that she’s not replaying the events from earlier. I know it better than anybody.

“Ellie,” I call again, this time breaking through to her. “Need some help, kid.”

“Right,” she says, her voice still softer than I’d like. “Water, you said?”

“Yeah,” I manage, keeping one eye on her and one on the woman in front of me half-ready to faint. “Quickly as you can manage.”

“Got it.”

Focusing back on Red, I pull up a chair in front of her. “Gonna need to stitch you up.”

“I can…take care of…myself.”

“You can’t even talk,” I grunt, shaking my head at her as I lay out the contents of the kit in front of us. Needles, thread, an antiseptic that I hope still works.

“You even know…what you’re doing?” Even bleeding out and winded, she’s still coming at me.

I have no fuckin’ clue as to why I like it so much.

“Ain’t my first time stitchin’ up an awnry woman, if that’s what you mean.” I don’t want to think about the last woman I tended to like this. If I do, I’ll just get angry all over again. Angry and hurt. “Might leave a scar, though.”

“Mama,” Colt comes up to her, sticking to her side like glue. “What’s gonna happen to you?”

She softens, forcing a smile onto her clammy face. “Well, Joel here…is gonna…stitch me up. Y’know…how I like to…sew?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well…Joel’s just gonna…sew my cut up,” she says, raising her free hand up to his face. “It sounds scarier…than it is.”

“Okay,” he says, blowing out a breath of air. “I’ll hold your hand, just in case it hurts.”

I might be a cold-hearted bastard, but damn it if the sight of Colt and Red together doesn’t warm my soul just a little bit.

“Water’s boiling,” Ellie announces, joining us at the table.

“Alright, soon as it reaches a boil, I need you t’take it off the heat and let it cool a little bit before bringing me a bowl full,” I instruct. “As for you, Red, I’m gonna need you t’sit right here and not bleed out in the meantime.”

“Got nothing better to do,” she says, one corner of her mouth twitching just the slightest bit.

Ignoring the strange feeling stirring in my chest—one I’m sure is a result of the adrenaline high I’m coming off of—I head over to the bathroom and rinse the blood off my hands with the leftover water sitting in a bucket inside the empty bathtub. It’s not the most sanitary of set-ups, but it’s better than nothing.

“Hey,” Ellie pokes her head in the bathroom, locking eyes with me in the vanity mirror. “What, uh, what are we doing about the dead dudes?”

“Don’t know,” I say as I scrub my hands with soap. “Don’t deserve a burial, in my humble opinion.”

“I just mean…like…are we good here?”

I contemplate her question for a few seconds. Truthfully, I’ve got no fuckin’ idea if it’s safe to be here. Those fucks outside could be apart of a larger group and just got dealt the shit end of the recon stick for all I know. So, I settle on the truth. “I don’t know, Ellie. Regardless, no one’s gonna be comin’ out this way in the storm. Once it passes, we’ll be on our way like we planned to.”

“And them?” she asks, her brows lacing together. “We’re just going to leave them behind?”

Rinsing my hands off and grabbing a cloth to wipe them dry, I turn to face her with an exasperated look. It’s been a hell of a fucking afternoon. My body is drained. My mind is all over the place. I’m not in the position to stretch myself any thinner than I already have.

“Ellie, this is their home,” I whisper, gesturing towards where Colt and Red sit just on the other side of the wall. “She can decide what she wants to do. All I’m worried about is us.”

“There’s not an ounce of sympathy left in that cold heart of yours?” She’s getting pissed now, just another part of her dealing with what she did out there in the woods.

“Sympathy won’t keep us alive,” I say, moving past her.

READER

Joel’s hands are warm. Rough, yes, but so fucking warm. And surprisingly gentle.

He’s got one hand resting beneath my forearm as it lays on the table, squeezing both sides of my wound together as he stitches it closed. He just finished washing it clean, his fingers gentle as he dragged the damp cloth along the slice until it was no longer caked in dark blood. He’s by no means a surgeon, but damn it if he’s not completely focused and careful with me.

It’s painfully attractive. Even if the guy still pisses me off with all of his grunts and scowling.

Then again, I always did find competency sexy. It was the main reason Kit ever made it out of the friend zone back in QZ.

A man who can take care of shit is an entirely different level of desirable.

“You have done this before, haven’t you?” I don’t know why I’m making conversation, other than the fact that for the first time in the last hour, I can speak without feeling like I’m going to pass out.

Between the chest kick that knocked the wind out of me and the slice across my arm, I’m surprised I made it this long without fainting.

“Yep,” he says, sighing a little bit.

“Surprising,” is all I reply. He glances up from his work and pins me with dark eyes, but I’m quick to look away. Instead, I turn to look at Ellie and Colt in the middle of the living room, sitting side by side on the floor as they color in companionable silence. They’re both handling this better than I would, especially Ellie.

“Why?” Joel’s soft, deep voice brings my eyes back to him, but thankfully, he’s not looking at me this time.

“Just don’t seem like the caretaking type is all.”

“Right,” he murmurs. “Because travelin’ around the country with a teenager doesn’t involve any caretakin’.”

“Ellie seems pretty self-sufficient, that’s all I mean.”

“Still a kid,” he says, stabbing the needle through my flesh quickly enough that I barely register the pain. “Still someone to take care of.”

“She yours?” I’ve been meaning to ask ever since they arrived, but between our little arguments and then staying out in the shed, there hasn’t been much of an opportunity to pry.

“No,” he replies, pursing his lips.

“How long have you been watching over her, then?”

“Since summer,” he says. “Promised someone I’d take her across the country. It’s taken us this long to get here.”

I nod, not wanting to ask for anything more than he’s given me. Lord knows I certainly haven’t been all that giving in terms of my history.

“What about you?” he asks, sticking me with the needle again. “I’m assumin’ he’s yours.”

“Yeah,” I smile softly, my eyes wandering to Colt. “He’s mine.”

“And the father?”

I suck in a deep breath and let my eyes fall to my lap. “He died before Colt was born.”

Joel’s eyes flicker up to meet mine. “You gave birth by yourself?”

I nod, chuckling a bit at the memory. “And I’ll never do it again.”

Joel’s lips threaten to curl upwards. “Can’t say I blame you.”

It’s odd making conversation that doesn’t end with me calling him a dick or him judging my parental skills, but what’s even more strange is that I’m starting to think he’s not a dick at all.

Or maybe he is, but only when he wants to be. Maybe he’s a dick because it’s the safer option out here. I sure as hell haven’t been the most friendly person in the world.

“So…about what happened out there,” I say, my free hand tracing the hole in my jeans at my knee in order to distract myself from what I know is inevitable. “We’re not safe out here, are we?”

Joel’s jaw clenches a bit as he works the final swipe of his needle through me. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, hoping Colt’s keen ears don’t pick up on it.

“You’re safe out here at least until the storm passes through,” Joel says as consolation, his fingers working quickly to tie the thread into a knot before he’s wrapping my arm up in a bandage.

“It could be over with by tomorrow,” I say, lifting my eyes to meet his. “I don’t…I don’t know if I can make it out there on my own, not with Colt. I’m not like you, and he’s not like Ellie. We’re…too soft.”

Joel’s eyes grow stern, his hand still holding my arm even though he’s finished with sewing me up. “Trust me, Red, you’re anything but soft.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “You don’t know me. I might pretend to be brave, but…deep down, I’m just scared.”

“Y’don’t think I’m scared every goddamn day out there?” His voice is low, hushed to the point that I have to lean in to hear him. “It’s alright to be scared shitless. What’s not alright is to give up. You stay out here, y’all are just sittin’ ducks waitin’ for someone to come by and take everything from you. Now, I don’t know you well enough to trust you, but I trust that you’ll do anything to save that boy of yours. You’ll find a way to be brave.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and give him a nod. It’s all I can do not to cry.

I wish Kit were here.

I wish I didn’t have to go through this alone and make these decisions.

Most of all, I wish Colt never had to live in this dangerous, uncertain world.

“Listen, I gotta talk this through with Ellie, but…” He rubs the scruff on his chin, appearing at war with himself for what he’s about to say. “Maybe y’all can tag along with us, least until you find someplace to settle.”

I give him a wary, almost skeptical look. “We don’t trust each other.”

“No, we don’t,” he agrees, shrugging one shoulder as he lets his hands finally slip away from my arm. “But we’ve both had plenty of chances to kill each other and haven’t yet. I figure as long as we continue like that, we’ll be alright.”

“I’ll keep my end of the bargain if you do, too,” I say, holding my free hand out for him to shake on. Joel eyes it for a moment before grasping it in his warm grasp.

Still so rough.

Still so gentle.

JOEL

“Jesus, is it like this every winter out here?” Ellie asks, sitting beside me at the table while we eat the dinner Red whipped up for us.

I’d offered to help—actually, I’d offered to do it myself—but ever the stubborn asshole, she refused to let me do so much as boil water. Tess always told me I was the most stubborn person on the planet, but I think she’d change her mind if she ever met Red.

”It ebbs and flows,” Red says, wiping her mouth with a cloth. “Some winters it’s calm, barely snows more than a few inches. Some winters—like this one—are brutal.”

My eyes flicker to the boy sitting beside her, his chair scooted up so close to hers he might as well have been sitting in her lap. He’s clutching his spoon hard enough to bend it, and his eyes—eyes that don’t match his mother’s—look wild. Red catches me staring, watching her son like he’s a wolf bronco that might buck at me any minute.

“Colt and I always get a little jittery when a storm like this rolls through,” she says, reaching her hand over to rub her son's shoulder. “But it’s nothing we haven’t faced before, right?”

“Mmhm,” he manages, clearly trying to put on a brave face for his mom.

I hate how much it reminds me of Sarah.

I hate being forced to revisit old wounds I haven’t touched in decades.

Most of all, I hate hating the memory of my daughter. She deserves to be remembered without all these extra emotions that come along with it.

Regret.

Anger.

Shame.

Letting my spoon drop into my bowl with a clank, I push my chair back and stand up abruptly, drawing all eyes. “‘Scuse me. I need…uh, need some air.”

I turn to walk towards the door to the cabin, hearing Red call out behind me. “Wait—out there?”

I don’t stop. I can’t.

My ears are ringing, my hands are numb, and all I can think to do is get up and go. I need to be alone. I need to not break down in front of Ellie. In front of Red and her boy.

The icy wind hits me as soon as I step out of the cabin, flecks of snow whirring in front of me and cutting into the warmth of my skin, but it’s a welcome sensation. I’d rather feel something than nothing, and if putting my body into shock is what I need to snap out of it, I’ll gladly sit out here in this blizzard for hours.

“Joel, come back inside!” I expect the person to come chasing after me to be the awnry fourteen-year-old in my care, but it’s not. With a voice full of irritation, and even a little concern, Red is calling my name and shouting orders like she has any right to.

“I’m—“ The words aren’t coming out smoothly, not with the way I can’t seem to catch my breath. “Fine.”

“You’re walking into a blizzard!” she shouts.

“Just…go on back,” I manage, though it’s hard to register if I’m actually getting the words out or just thinking them. All I know is the haggard in and out of my breathing, the pounding in my chest, the empty feeling in my stomach.

Until she rests her hand on my shoulder.

Until I know her touch.

Her warmth.

The gentle squeeze of her hand as she brings me back to myself.

“Come back inside,” she says, her voice softer than it’s ever been towards me. When my eyes settle, the haze turning to clarity, I find her expression just as soft. Just as gentle. “You can freak out in the bathroom if you want. It’s too fucking cold out here and Ellie said if I didn’t get you to come back inside, she’d come out here next.”

I let out a chuckle, or what’s meant to be a chuckle, and nod my head slowly. “Alright, Red.”

And just like that, I’ve gone and done the most dangerous thing a person can do out here.

I’ve made a friend.

[vyxenisl0st]

╰┈➤ 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙄𝙑

Alastor x reader

🀥 Summary: You despised the TV Demon—the sound of his voice, his face, and especially his incessant news channel. But what happens when he finally says something worth listening to?

🀥 Warnings: fem!reader, slight angst, vulgar language

🀥 Word count: 1k

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V-coming soon

ﾟ･:,｡★＼(^-^)♪ありがと♪( ^-^)/★,｡･:･ﾟ

Back at the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor was doing his best to avoid the inevitable—talking to his wife.

He sat in the lobby, one leg crossed over the other, tapping his fingers idly against the armrest of his chair. His usual grin was still in place, but his mind was far from present. Angel and Vaggie were arguing nearby—about what, he neither knew nor cared. Their voices were just white noise, blending into the static that hummed at the back of his mind.

Instead, his thoughts fixated on her.

He had imagined seeing (Y/N) again countless times over the years. In some scenarios, she was furious, cursing his name with all the fire and venom he loved her for. In others, she was cold, looking through him as if he were nothing. But reality had been much crueler.

She had come to see him, stood right before him after all those years, and all he had done was push her away.

A mistake.

A mistake he didn’t know how to fix.

With an exasperated sigh, he snapped his fingers and teleported to the hotel bar.

Husk barely looked up as he approached, but the moment he caught sight of him, one of his brows arched in amusement. “Well, aren’t you just a sight?”

Alastor let out a dry chuckle. “Your job is to pour a drink, not make a statement.”

Husk smirked and grabbed a bottle. “Didn’t take you for the drinking type.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you here?”

Before Alastor could answer, Angel suddenly appeared at his side, draping an arm over his shoulder with an infuriatingly smug grin. “Oooh, somebody’s in a mood.”

Alastor didn’t flinch, nor did his smile waver, but his eyes flickered with something dark. A warning.

Angel ignored it. “I bet it’s about that chick that came to see you last week. What was her name? Wait, she didn’t tell us. Anyway, you’ve been out of it since then. Did she hit your ego too hard when she punched the radio static outta you?”

Alastor’s fingers twitched.

Husk sighed. “Angel, don’t.”

Angel simply gave him an innocent look. “What? I’m just saying, if I got my ass handed to me in front of a crowd, I’d be in a mood too.”

“I do not get my ass handed to me,” Alastor said, tone even but sharp enough to cut.

Angel shrugged. “Tell that to your face.”

Alastor’s patience was wearing thin, but he knew better than to let Angel get a rise out of him. Husk, however, had mercy on them both. “Her name is (Y/N),” he muttered.

Angel blinked. “Huh?”

Husk poured himself a drink. “The woman. She’s (Y/N). One of the oldest Overlords here. Runs the Pleasure District.” He paused, side-eyeing Alastor. “Alastor’s wife. Or, ex-wife. He’s not sure anymore.”

A sharp crack split through the air as Alastor’s fist slammed onto the bar.

“She is still my wife.”

Angel let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the show. “Oof. You sure about that, buddy? Because she sure didn’t look like your wife when she stormed outta here.”

Alastor’s fingers curled tighter against the wood.

Husk shot Angel a warning glare. “Enough. Give us a minute.”

Angel held up his hands. “Alright, alright, I’m going.” He took a few steps away before glancing back. “Still think she’s too hot for ya, though.”

Husk groaned as Angel disappeared into the lobby.

A heavy silence settled between the bartender and the radio demon. Alastor had yet to lift his hand from the bar, fingers tense against the polished surface.

Husk sighed. “You know, you gotta talk to her eventually.”

Alastor let out a short, mirthless laugh. “And say what, exactly?”

Husk gave him a flat look. “Do you want her to forgive you?”

Alastor hesitated.

For all his confidence, his charm, his power, the idea of speaking to (Y/N) again—really talking to her—unsettled him in a way few things did.

He had always been the one in control, the one who dictated the game. But this?

This was different.

“…Yes,” he finally admitted.

Husk scoffed. “Then go and fucking apologize.”

Alastor stared at him for a long moment before sighing and rubbing his temples.

“Easier said than done, old friend.”

Alastor returned to his room, his usual confident stride feeling strangely heavy. The door shut behind him with a quiet click, leaving him alone in the dimly lit space. For a brief moment, he simply stood there, staring at the floor, lost in thought.

What could he possibly say to her?

Apologizing wasn’t something he was accustomed to. He was a man of charm, of carefully chosen words, of showmanship. But (Y/N) had never been fooled by theatrics. She knew him too well—knew when his grin was real and when it was just a mask. And after seven years apart, he wasn’t sure if he could still tell the difference himself.

With a quiet sigh, he crossed the room, heading straight for the nightstand. He hesitated for only a second before pulling the drawer open.

There, nestled in a small, elegant box, was his wedding band.

The silver gleamed even in the low light, a cruel reminder of what once was. His fingers hovered over it before finally picking it up, the cool metal sending a shiver through him. He turned it over in his palm, tracing the familiar engravings on the inside—ones that once brought him joy but now felt like ghosts of a past he had abandoned.

‘Forever yours.’

His fingers trembled slightly as he slipped the ring onto his finger, where it had always belonged. But it felt heavier than he remembered.

For years, he had been too ashamed to wear it. How could he? He had left her behind—disappeared without a word, forcing her to live in a world where he no longer existed. He had convinced himself that he wasn’t worthy of her anymore, that she deserved more than the mess he had become.

But now… now that was no longer for him to decide.

Whether she still considered him her husband wasn’t his choice to make.

But he had to see her again.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his tie, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in his vest. He glanced at himself in the mirror, his smile—so often effortless—feeling foreign for the first time in decades.

Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and left the hotel.

He was going to get his beloved back.

‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿

Taglist: @msfandomsblog @l34n @l3rittany @hayamie @lynsexperience @sirens-and-moonflowers

[quarterlifekitty]

wifey here again with stepdad!Nik, so I think SD would insist on finishing college since she only has like a year left anyway and because she feels like she'll be able to get a job easier with a degree, she doesn't wanna be a burden. Nikolai ofc lets her finish college, it keeps her busy while at home, settling in nicely to their house. He takes care of her every need, and slowly starts to convince her that she doesn't owe him anything, she's his wife now, or soon to be at the very least. All she needs to do is stay home and worry about their little one. Anytime she has doubts about how much he wants her and wants to provide for her she gets reminded thoroughly. It's when SD's bump is getting noticeable that Nik really steps it up. "What if we both miss the important moments?" and SD eventually is like "yeah, okay, but if it ever becomes a burden I'll get a job" and Nik is real proud of himself. SD also becomes very needy, in just the way Nik loves, she wants to be with him as much as possible and needs help a lot because hormones are fucking with her. And she definitely thanks him plenty for his help whenever she can. Bonus NikPrice x SD reader John decides to visit Nik and his new bird since on their last mission Nikolai wouldn't shut up about her and he immediately gets why when he sees SD, she's so sweet and nurturing and she looks gorgeous all round with Nik's kid, stays a few nights and gets drunk one night and jokingly (sorta) tells Nik he'd love to put the next one in her and Nikolai just hums with a smile "why not?" and reader is suddenly being flirted with by her fiance/husband's friend. Is real worried about it cause she likes it and guility goes to Nik who is 1. Very pleased by her honesty and 2. reassures her and tells her that he's okay with it if she is. (Totally wasn't his plan to get his two favorite people together so he could have them both, nope, that's totally not why he raved about her to John and not one other soul. Mmhm)

Also im really sorry if once again this doesn't make sense, stress has got me by a chokehold lately and its making my brain bad lol

Ooooooh wifey you are killing me. Isn’t that the perfect solution, though? You’re so worried about being a burden, let’s bring in another source of income!!

You know. Maybe it’s kinda degrading. But I totally imagine Nik comes up with little tasks for her. Let’s be real, it’s so easy— he saw what her mother was like, he can see how starved she is for approval, it practically blinds her. Things like “I want us to get a new car with some more space before the baby comes— can you research what models are best for family? You have a better mind for things like that than me,” he says with an almost sheepish smile. You’re practically wagging your tail with excitement— and you just look so happy when you present all of your work and he seems so pleased with you.

Also, in a bit of darker move, I can imagine if you’re not as into John as all that— they come up with a story. They say that John wants to have a baby of his own, but he’s not married, and he wants to have a kid before he’s too old and his career gets in the way of romance. So he would love for you to be like a surrogate for him. You’ve done so well with this first pregnancy, and you’re still so young— plus! John would be willing to pay, so it’d be like you’ve got your own income to help out!

The only thing is that John believes in natural conception. And he wants to live with you both during the pregnancy to help out. And he doesn’t actually plan on leaving once you have his kid. And Nik knows how sensitive and caring you are— when you confess to him your doubts about giving the baby up for good once it’s born, he comforts you. Of course he’ll talk to John about it, milaya, he’s sure they can come to an agreement.

[rottenbologna]

Letter to Lia

pairings~ lia walti x reader

genre~ angst

warnings~ short and sweet

Lia sat in her kitchen sipping her coffee, the quiet hum of the morning on one of her rare day off settled around her as she looked at the envelope addressed to her resting heavily on her kitchen table. It was thin but it weighed heavily given she hadn’t expected to hear from y/n again especially not like this. It had been almost a year since their relationship ended and the last time they’d spoke to each other but taking different turns towards healing.

With trembling hands, Lia opened the envelope. She immediately recognized the cursive writing as yours before taking a deep breath and scanning over the carefully written words.

Dear Lia,

I know I'm the last person you were expecting but there’s a few things I felt you needed to know. A few things I felt like I owe you. 

It’s strange that this is the path life has taken us down given all that we shared. I never imagined I'd be going through life without you. When we first met I'd never imagined that it would have turned into something so meaningful and real as it did. You brought a breath of fresh air to my life which I thought was rather mundane, a light to a darkness that I didn't even know was dwelling. I remember the color of your eyes and how you weren't aware that they glistened like stars in the night. Your laugh that still rings in my ear to this day and the way you’d taken on everything life threw at you with a smile on your face. How we’d stay on the phone until late talking about anything and everything until you fell asleep I’d watch you as you slept hoping that I could do enough to hold you and take away your pain. Those were the best parts of my day.

But as we know life doesn’t always lead us down a path we hope for. Whatever we had as strong as it was just dimmed until it eventually faded. I don’t think we both knew how to adapt to everything around us and sadly the change was too much for us to hold on. I’m sorry I wasn't perfect and I couldn't be what you needed. But we tried and I think that was the best we could do.

Even though what we had was over I just needed you to know that I’m thankful for everything. Thank you for showing me that I'm deserving of love that I deserved to be heard and listened to. Thank you for being the one that took that time to listen. Even though we’re parted now the time we had together no matter how brief is so important to and has shaped me into someone i never believed i could be. So many memories I'm happy to take with me even when it hurts and for that I want to thank you.

All I wanted was for you to know I don't expect us to pick up where we left off or to ever speak again. I just needed you to know that I haven't forgotten the good parts of us. You’ll always have a special part in my heart.

Thank you for everything lia. 

Take care 

Y/N.

[wyattjohnston]

just between you and me - cole caufield

summary: you return to montreal after some time abroad and it unleashes a whole new slew of questions.

word count: 3,325

note: this is for @lam-ila for The Winter Fic Exchange 2k25! i hope you like it maleeha <3 thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and for all your help!!

main character: feminine reader insert

The windowpane offers a nice reprieve from the chaotic warmth being produced by seemingly everybody you’ve ever known being invited to your welcome back party. It’s well below freezing which isn’t at all unusual for Montreal, and—you’ll never admit this out loud—sitting next to the window is the closest you’re going to get to outside. Belgium had been utterly tropical in comparison and you’re ashamed by how quickly the Montreal weather became too much. The crowd of people sitting on the balcony are, quite frankly, out of their minds.

“Don’t think you should be sitting over here by yourself.”

You move your attention from the group outside to the person who just joined you, smiling gently when you realise who it is followed by a just as gentle, “Hi, Cole.”

The confusion across his face is clear and it lasts longer than just a passing second, before he’s saying your name back to you in such a questioning manner that you start to wonder if you’ve somehow been wrong all these years.

He shuffles further into the booth opposite you, leaning all his body weight onto his forearms and the table between them, and says emphatically, “No fucking way.”

You understand his reaction somewhat, knowing that the semester spent in Belgium had been eye opening and experimental, but you can only shrug at him because visibly all that’s changed about you that night is that you’ve put on some makeup and worn something a little tighter than you used to.

“You look—” he pauses, and you sigh to yourself because you know what’s coming next. “You look great. Belgium really did a number on you, eh?”

“Sure, you could put it that way.”

The compliment is nice, regardless, so you take it at face value and put your own arms on the table, leaning in towards him. He grins, toothy and all encompassing, and you’re shunted back to the small crush you’ve always had on him. It’s not anything that takes over your life; sometimes you’re not even sure it’s anything more than the thought that he’s available, but it’s enough to send butterflies into your stomach.

He tells you to stay put, and you do as you’re told even if you’re contorting yourself in your seat to see exactly where he’s gone and what he’s up to. The drink he brings back to you is what he knows as your favourite; you thank him for the soft drink, even if that’s also something that changed while you were away.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, a couple days later, you get a text from Cole asking when you’re next free which is quickly followed by another text with the days he’s free that week.

Hanging out with Cole wasn’t uncommon, though it was typically part of a larger group. It’s not explicit that this is one-on-one in any way other than Cole being the one to initiate and organise; he always left that to someone else and just showed up wherever the people were.

You leave them on your Lock Screen for most of the day and wait until the Habs game is over that night to text him back—whilst you wouldn’t give him the quick response he was undoubtedly after, there’s no way you’re going to put yourself in the position to wait by texting him mid-game.

The text you send reads “that depends what we’re doing” and it’s not until the read receipt pops up and you read it back that you realise it probably sounds quite flirty. It’s not not the message you were trying to convey but your palms get a little sweaty when it really kicks in that the flood gates have just been opened.

Cole’s unbridled joy is conveyed through his texts—the win probably doing some heavy lifting there—and the abundance of exclamation marks. Though, truthfully, they might not be that uncommon for Cole.

“We can go bowling!! Or ice skating!! Or you can come over??!!”

It’s endearing if not a little overwhelming.

Ice skating is the pick, and you can’t help but laugh at the idea of him using his day off to do more skating. It was his suggestion, and he doesn’t seem bothered by it, so you don’t bring it up at all.

He helps with your skates even though you’re more than capable; he just kneels down in front of you and starts lacing them up before you can even begin to tighten them yourself. He does look cute when he smiles up at you proudly, so you don’t have it in you to fight it.

Cole is holding your hand the moment you’re stepping onto the ice. You know how to skate and he knows you know how, so it’s not a tight, steadying grip. In fact, it’s having the opposite effect as your knees get weak because even through two pairs of thick, winter gloves you can feel every part of his hand against yours.

On the ice you can hear a guy yapping at his poor date about how good he was at hockey, how he could have gone pro, but he decided it was better for him to go to university and get a real job because of some made up reason that trailed off before he really finished his sentence. You couldn’t hide your laugh at it all, a full-bodied snort that drew the attention of the couple, so you curled into Cole to try and pretend it was something he’d said.

It did end up being Cole who was making you laugh, when he leant in closer whilst he kept you moving across the ice to repeat the guy’s ridiculous claims. The hockey bro voice he was putting on—or maybe just playing up—really sent you over the edge, and you had to hold onto him to keep upright as your laughter got to a point where breathing was problematic.

Being pulled effortlessly around the rink by Cole was something. It certainly wasn’t making it any easier to breathe, and even less so when you were able to gather some bearings and make eye contact with him. You weren’t sure anyone had ever looked at you with such softness and sincerity; you had to look away.

It’s so cliché when you step off the ice to get hot chocolate that you have no choice but to sit opposite him and ask him a question that’s been on your mind all day.

“Is this your go-to first date?”

“It’s…” he pauses briefly, sheepish. “It’s in the rotation, yeah. Seasonal. You’re my favourite.”

You avert eye contact, staring at your hands where they’re wrapped around the source of warmth that is your cup. Cole’s foot nudging against yours doesn’t do a lot to help keep your voice steady because your mind has conjured up an image of Cole and the poor date from earlier. She’s stunning, exactly the type of woman who would make a perfect WAG—no amount of makeup or otherwise traditionally feminine behaviour would ever make you feel like you could match her.

It’s with a weak voice you say, “You probably say that to all the girls.”

“No.” Cole doesn’t miss a beat. “Just you.”

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you’re filled with so much emotion that you screw your eyes shut because you don’t want to see the face he makes at your delirious smile.

Before you leave, the wannabe hockey player catches up with you and asks Cole for an autograph and a photo which are happily provided. He tells his date, before you and Cole can even get out of earshot, that he was a better player than Cole has ever been and would have gone higher in the draft had he kept up with hockey.

“Can’t believe the world doesn’t get to see the next Gretzky play just because he wants to…” he trails off into unintelligible mumbling.

The number of dates you’ve been on—and they are dates, Cole has made that exceedingly clear—is quite frankly outstanding for it having been two weeks. It feels like every day he’s free, and you don’t have classes, you’re together. It’s a lot, to be honest, but it’s not bad.

It’s not like you’ve never gone to a nice restaurant before—your parents were fans of the finer things in life, and you and your friends liked to treat yourselves on your birthdays—it’s just not something you ever pictured yourself doing with Cole. Though, to be fair, you hadn’t thought about doing much with Cole until he’d suddenly started showing interest.

The maître d’ knows Cole and you’re not so sure whether it’s because Cole is a regular or because he plays for the Habs. It’s likely both.

You don’t feel like you fit, despite any sudden interest in fashion and skincare you’ve developed—when you went out with your friends in Belgium, it was always met with judgemental, and disbelieving looks that you belonged.

You push down your discomfort and let Cole order your dinner because the menu is intimidating. He asks the waiter to bring the wine that pairs best with each course, and then turns to you and says, “Pop?”

“Just seltzer, please,” you say to Cole before turning to the waiter with a timid smile. “Thank you.”

When you turn your attention back to Cole, he’s visibly confused—his eyebrows pulled together, and his mouth pulled tight. You tilt your head, confused by his confusion but he doesn’t say anything to you.

“I don’t drink soft drinks anymore,” you explain. It doesn’t clear his confusion. “Just trying to take better care of my teeth. That seems to be the change that’s got you the most.”

“Just surprised. It’s not a bad thing.”

You tilt your head at him again, waiting for him to elaborate, but the waiter returns with your drinks and Cole easily shifts the conversation to his brother, Brock.

At the next table there’s a couple, probably in their early 50s, who are absolutely besotted with each other. You catch yourself staring at them a lot throughout the evening, hoping to learn what really makes a relationship perfect. Cole notices, too, though he stares far less at them than he does at you. When you catch him staring, the heart eyes he’s developed are enough to make your heart swell.

“You look really nice tonight,” he says after one of the times he gets caught, as if it’s not what he said the second he laid eyes on you at your front door.

The compliments have come through thick and fast since Cole came back into your life. You’re not mad about them, really, and you’re proud of what you’re now able to do with your makeup and the outfits you’re able to put together so that they are outfits and not just pants and a top, but every time he says something nice you’re reminded of the years where he said nothing of the sort—when you were just another person in the same room.

It comes out of nowhere, is much of the problem. It’s been a month, maybe two, of thoughts running through your head, of what you and Cole are and what he really thinks about you—about anything—and you’ve not asked. You probably should have because it’s not an inconsistent thought in your head about what any of this even means.

You and Cole are sitting on his couch, watching a 90s teen romcom, not having said a word for half an hour, when you sit up straight and stare at him.

He looks put out by having lost your body heat, instantly reaching out to pull you back, but you can’t get over Laney Boggs’ sudden transformation into a Prom Queen and so you start spilling a months’ worth of thoughts to him.

“I can’t keep this up, Cole,” you say with all the dramatics of the main character of a romcom.

It sort of feels like he’s in a constant state of confusion when you’re around and it adds to all the thoughts running through your head because what could he possibly see in you when he doesn’t ever seem to know what to expect next.

He asks, “Keep what up?”

“Pretending that it doesn’t kill me that you’re only interested in me now that I’m more of a girly girl.”

There’s a beat, where he stares at you, and you stare back, and his face screws up and your heart does the same, but you bite your lip because really, you need to hear something from him, anything.

“What?” he says—it’s less of a question than a silence filler. “No. No that’s—”

“But it is, though, isn’t it?” You cut him off before he can stumble over any more words. “Because you weren’t taking me on dates or showing any interest when I was drinking nothing but pop and wearing nothing but sports merch but put me in a dress with a boring water in my hand and all of a sudden you can’t get enough of me.”

“I didn’t… I don’t… I don’t care about water,” he says, staring at you like you’ve grown three heads. Maybe you have. You’re not sure exactly what you look like at that moment. Promptly more unkempt than when you showed up, maybe a little crazier in the eyes—maybe doing a reverse She’s All That while the end of the movie plays behind you.

“You can’t even deny it,” you argue back, sitting further back against the arm of the couch and putting more space between you and Cole. He’s listening to every word you say, rolling them all through his mind one by one. “I thought I was alright with it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Would you have ever looked at me that way if everything about me hadn’t changed?”

Cole’s face changes even more at that point, the confusion morphing into something a little pained and that makes sense to you if he feels like he’s been called out. He leans forward, trying to close some of the space you’ve created, but pulls back a little when you show any sign of helping the space disappear.

His shoulders fall and he says confidently, “I’m into you, babe. Just you.”

There’s part of you that wonders why he hasn’t made a move. There have been makeouts and cuddling but nothing more and you’re not mad about that at all, you’re quite happy that the pace has been slow in that respect, but the fact that it hasn’t come up at all has been playing on your mind because is he into you? Any version of you?

It’s not the most burning question in your mind right then, though, and you manage to get out, “But would you have ever asked me out the way I was before Belgium?”

“I didn’t…” All his confidence is gone. “I didn’t think of you that way before.”

You nod and stand, knowing that staying in that room is going to hurt even more than the conversation you’ve just had. So you say, “Okay,” as you’re walking to the door and following it up with, “That’s all I needed to know,” when you’re turning the doorknob.

Cole is standing, too, though he’s not moving towards you. He’s standing by the couch, looking small and curled in on himself. Your heart breaks just a little bit more when he asks, “Are we—Are we breaking up?”

Despite all the dates and the time you’ve been spending together, you’re not even sure that you’re at a point where you can ‘break up’. There’s been no conversation about what you are outside of calling the time you’re spending together dates.

“I don’t know what we are, Cole,” you say, tired and desperate to get out of his house and be alone. “I just need some time to think.”

You can hear your roommate open the front door, immediately telling whoever is there that you don’t want to see them. It’s not hard to connect the dots. Especially not when they line up perfectly with the Habs returning from a road trip.

Cole is talking before your roommate has even finished speaking, hurriedly trying to say he just wants to talk to you, and nothing else, and he has to explain things and the more the talks the faster he gets, and your roommate is trying to get a word in but Cole isn’t letting her.

It’s not anybody else’s job to be your bodyguard, so you prepare yourself mentally to rescue her from his rapid-fire speech. There’s no physical effort to put in, especially not when you putting in effort is what caused all your problems to begin with, so you step into the hall wearing a two-sizes-too-large Habs shirt with a hole in each armpit and the shorts made of sweatpants material that haven’t been seen outside your house since prior to you leaving for Belgium. Your skincare routine may or may not have been neglected in the last 48 hours, you don’t actually remember. The spots brewing suggest it’s more like in the may not column.

Yet, despite that, Cole’s eyes are on you the second you’re in his line of sight, and the relief rolling off him is palpable. He stops talking, finally taking a breath, and you just nod at your roommate when she silently asks if you actually want to do this. She takes a deep breath, waits half a second for you to change your mind, and then leaves you and Cole standing in your small entry hall.

“Sorry about the road trip,” you say, suddenly struck by his silence after how fast his mouth had been moving before you were standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds desperate, even more so than when he was begging to see you. “I—I’m into you. I don’t want whatever you think I think to get in the way of that.”

“But you weren’t into before I looked different.”

“You don’t look that different,” he counters. “I don’t think you’re wearing any make up right now and I am still really into you.”

Your cheeks warm, and you struggle to get out anything because you truthfully don’t have a lot of will to argue with him if he’s into you. You do manage, “You never showed any interest before,” which is just a repeat of everything you’ve already said.

“Then you disappeared for months, and I realised I missed you. The timing isn’t great for whatever you think is going on, but I promise I like you. A lot. And I want to keep going on dates and hanging out and all of that stuff. You can wear whatever you want or don’t want, it makes no difference to me.”

“Why didn’t you say any of that last week?”

He laughs, a snort which is largely self-deprecating, “I couldn’t wrap my head around what you were saying because it didn’t make sense to me. Kind of put me on the spot there, babe. Also felt like a bit of a trap with the movie if we’re being honest with each other.”

You sigh, “The movie was an accident. It did, uh, cause everything to kind of burst, though.”

“Can we go back to hanging out? To dating? The last week’s sucked sorta hard.”

You can’t disagree that it’s sucked sorta hard. Despite needing the time to think about it, the absence of Cole’s silly texts throughout the day or his random minute-long phone calls because his thought was too much for a text had left a huge gap in your day that you hadn’t even realised he’d been filling.

It’s easy, then, to move towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close.

[thekhloediary]

Crave

Nicholas Chavez x Reader

Everyone has an indulgence, what’s yours?

I have really been enjoying writing again in my free time. This was something fun and smutty lol. Enjoy! - Khloe 💋

Have you ever found yourself wanting something so bad you just had to have it? Like a piece of candy or a decadent dessert that you just couldn’t resist? An indulgence so sweet it made you crave it?

For me, it wasn’t something, but rather someone. He was that bite of chocolate, that lick of frosting, that taste of ice cream melting on my tongue. He was my sweet craving. I thought of him often—what it would be like to touch him, feel him, taste him. I imagined him in every possible way. He was my daydream and my wet dream. It was nothing I wanted more than Nicholas.

But, imagining him just wasn’t enough anymore. I was longing for him. The craving had become a bit too strong, a bit too persistent. I had to feed it. I had to satisfy it.

I had to have him.

It was a Friday night, and I found myself on my couch, watching a movie with my friends. Well, at least I was supposed to be watching a movie. It played in the background, the smell of popcorn and sounds of laughter filling my living room, but my mind was elsewhere—lost in thoughts of him. How could I focus when he was right next to me? He made shorts and a t-shirt look good. So effortlessly sexy. And he smelled amazing. So fresh and inviting.

I sat beside Nicholas, my friend since college, eyeing him like he was the last slice of cake—delicious, coveted, and hard to resist. God, I wanted him. I had never wanted a man more. We had been friends for years, and I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I found myself wanting him in a way I hadn’t before. He had always been attractive, and within our friend group, we often joked about how he was the ‘hot’ friend. There was no shortage of females in his DMs or flirting with him whenever we were out. They all wanted him, and he knew it. He just didn’t know that I wanted him, too.

I had been feeling this way for so long, and I honestly didn’t know how I had managed to keep my desires hidden. Every time he was around, my mind raced with thoughts of him. He made me feel things he didn’t even realize. Like how I inhaled his scent whenever he gave me a hug, longing to stay in his embrace. How I watched his lips move when he talked, wondering how it would feel to kiss them. How wet I got when I touched myself, imagining it was him.

I wanted him so bad.

“Hey, Nic, do you mind getting me a blanket from the closet?” I asked as we sat together on my couch.

“Yea sure,” he answered easily and went to get it for me. My request for a blanket seemed like the most innocent thing to anyone unsuspecting, but I knew otherwise. I was overcome with an urge to touch him.

Nicholas returned a few moments later with a large, fluffy blanket. As he sat back down on the couch, I moved a little closer to him and draped the blanket over, putting my plan into action. I watched him as he went back to watching the movie, oblivious to what was about to come. A small smile teased my lips.

Ready.

It started with my hand brushing against him. He didn’t give much reaction, just a quick glance in my direction, as though maybe it had been accidental. But I knew it wasn’t, and soon he would know, too. It was a little secret I wanted to share—had to share. I moved my hand again, this time not so subtly, placing it on his thigh. He looked at me curiously, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t stop me either.

Set.

I moved my hand up and down his thigh, and when he looked at me this time, there was no mistaking it. The way I was touching him, my intent was clear. Still, he didn’t say anything, but his gaze lingered in such a way that it felt like he was extending me an invitation to indulge. There was an amused smirk now, and if I didn’t know any better, I would say he was testing me, daring me to continue, wanting to know just how far I would take it.

Go.

Hidden under the blanket was my fantasy coming true. I had imagined this moment and now the feeling of him was real. I almost couldn’t believe I was doing this. My heart was beating a little faster now and my body was getting warmer. No, this wasn’t my imagination anymore. This was real. And when my hand disappeared into his shorts and I felt him, I knew just how real it was—and just how hard he was. With every touch, I could feel him growing harder beneath my palm. It was everything I wanted, but I needed more. So much more.

“Upstairs,” I whispered into his ear and rose from the couch, excusing myself from the movie. Nicholas left for the bathroom shortly after. I knew our friends would be suspicious of us both being gone, but that was something to deal with later because, right now, I had to have him.

I had pictured Nicholas in my bed so many times that the reality of this moment was almost surreal. Would he feel as good as I imagined? Would he taste as sweet? My pulse raced in excitement. I quickly undressed, and that was how he met me, wearing nothing but a smile.

“Damn…” Nicholas took all of me in. His eyes traveled up and down my body, no part of me going unnoticed. From the look in his eyes, he liked what he saw.

“All for you,” I teased, crawling onto my bed. When I was against my pillows, I leaned back and slowly spread my legs. I beckoned him over to me in a ‘come here’ motion.

He was my treat, but who said I couldn’t be his, too?

He had his shirt and shorts off in record time and climbed into bed with me. I eagerly straddled him, the anticipation high. He ran his hand down my body, pausing just for a second to ask me, “You sure you wanna do this?”

I had never been more sure about anything else. If only he knew the shameless amount of times I had already pictured this moment in my head. If only he knew how my pussy ached for him. I wanted him.

All of him.

I grabbed his hand and moved it down to feel my wetness. “I want you so bad. You feel how wet you make me, Nic?”

That was all the assurance he needed as his thumb brushed against my clit.

“So, downstairs on the couch?” he asked, teasing me now with small circles. “You like to play, huh?”

I bit my lip as a helpless sigh escaped me and nodded, the pleasure hitting me instantly.

“Well…” he moved his thumb a little faster. “Let’s play,”

He pulled me down to meet his lips while still strumming my clit. The heat rushed through me as he kissed me slowly. The way his lips and tongue consumed me was better than any kiss I could’ve imagined. I got lost, descending somewhere unknown, and then I felt his finger dip into me, sending me far beyond.

“Nic…mmm…fuck,” I moaned a little louder than I intended, completely forgetting our friends were still downstairs. The feeling was just so good I couldn’t contain myself. And then he inserted another finger. Oh God. His fingers moved in and out of me just right. Slow and steady to start the race, then the pace gradually increased to take me to the finish line.

And I was getting there fast.

He pumped harder and I was closer.

So close.

A little more, a little harder, a little more…

…and my body was trembling, wetness running down the length of his fingers. I watched as he brought his hand to his mouth and fed his hungry tongue with my juices. Fuck. It did something to me, and I was sure if I wasn’t already far gone, that would have taken me completely.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” I told him breathlessly.

“Show me,”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. My lips kissed his neck, then trailed down his chest, and then to his perfectly defined abs. His body was like a dream. Too good to be true but so real in every way. God, he was so fucking hot. My hands reached the waistband of his black boxer briefs, and I looked up at him with a playful smile as I pulled them down. I felt like a kid in a candy store, eagerly awaiting a sugary treat. But it wasn’t a lollipop or a candy bar this time.

It was even better.

My fingertips danced along his length in slow, teasing touches, tracing the bulging lines of his veins, feeling his increasing hardness. He watched my hand as it slowly stroked up and down. The low groan that he let out was music to my ears. He was throbbing in my hand, so full, so ready. My eyes burned with desire. My mouth watered. All of my senses piqued. I couldn’t wait to taste him next.

I ran my tongue along the underside of his length in a long, slow lick. A sharp breath escaped him at the first touch of my tongue. Another lick, and I took him into my mouth. He tasted as good as I imagined he would. Like he was my favorite popsicle, I licked, sucked, and devoured him. He was my sweet treat. With each lick and the further I took him into my mouth, the pressure was building, and I could feel it in the way his muscles tensed, from the way his breathing increased, and the way he now looked at me with an intensity that set my core ablaze. I had Nicholas right where I wanted.

Time to blow his mind.

I moved back to my position on top of him. He held my hips as I lowered myself and took him in, watching as each inch slowly disappeared in me.

“Mmm,” I moaned, moving up and down. I started slowly, sliding up to the tip and then back down, clenching tightly around him as I did so.

“Fuck…” he let out a rough exhale. “You feel so good,”

And so did he. I was sure that nothing else could feel better than the feeling of him inside me, filling me completely. The pleasure was consuming me. I was in ecstasy, and from the sounds of his breaths, so was he. I had been wanting this, craving this, and now that I had it, I wasn’t letting up. I leaned forward, both hands on his chest, and got lost in the ride.

With each moment that passed, the pressure was building. The steady pace that I had built picked up, and I was riding him faster, harder—every one of my movements pulling a response from him. From the sounds he was making to the way he was gripping my thighs tightly, he was on the brink, teetering so very close to the edge.

And then, he made the sexiest sound I’d ever heard as he came.

Hard.

It was my undoing. I threw my head back and let the waves of pleasure drown me. After all the times I had imagined being with him, the real moment surpassed any fantasy I could have dreamed. The feeling was so good. And the fact that I had made Nicholas feel what I was feeling, was even better.

A craving worth satisfying.

“I hope you know,” I said as I slowly eased up from him. “That’s mine now.” I looked down with a satisfied smile.

Nicholas chuckled. “Don’t worry. You can have me, baby,”

Absolutely. Every chance I got.

[ilovegyokeres]

Nights like this- Kenan Yildiz

Genre: Slow-burn romance, angst, fluff

Summary: You meet Kenan Yıldız by accident one winter night in Turin. What starts as a fleeting encounter slowly grows into something deeper as you cross paths again and again, navigating his rising football career, your own life struggles, and the uncertain line between admiration and something more. Over the course of a year—through winter, spring, summer, and fall—your relationship with Kenan changes in ways you never expected.

Winter in Turin was unforgiving that night. The wind cut through the streets like a blade, cold enough to sting your skin even through layers of fabric. You wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, exhaling a puff of mist into the air as you tried to shake off the frustration of missing the last tram. The streets were nearly empty, the late hour and bitter cold having driven most people indoors. Your phone’s battery was already in the red, and the idea of walking home through the freezing night was becoming less appealing with every passing second.

You sighed, kicking at a stray piece of ice on the sidewalk, when the hum of an engine caught your attention. A sleek, black car slowed as it approached, its headlights illuminating the frost-covered pavement. You didn’t think much of it until the passenger window rolled down, revealing a young man in the driver’s seat. He was wearing a dark hoodie, the fabric loose around his shoulders, and his face was partially shadowed by the dim streetlight. But even in the low light, you recognized him.

Kenan Yıldız.

The Juventus player. Rising star. The one whose name had been on every football analyst’s lips for months now.

Your body tensed instinctively, unsure if this was real or just some bizarre trick of exhaustion. Kenan glanced at you, then at the empty street ahead, before tilting his head slightly. "You look like you’re freezing," he said, his voice smooth but carrying the distinct lilt of someone who had spent years between countries, between cultures. "Need a ride?"

Your immediate instinct was to say no. It didn’t matter that he was famous, that he was a footballer you had watched on the screen countless times—he was still a stranger offering you a ride in the middle of the night. But the logical part of you knew that standing in the freezing cold for another hour wasn’t a great idea either.

Still, hesitation weighed on your tongue. "You don’t even know me," you finally said.

Kenan’s lips curled into a slight smirk, the kind that seemed almost second nature to him. "That’s true," he admitted. "But I figure you’re either a Juventus fan or just really unlucky to be out here alone at this hour. Either way, I don’t mind helping."

Something about the casual way he said it—like this wasn’t a big deal to him—made you pause. He didn’t seem pushy or impatient, just... offering. And maybe it was reckless, maybe you’d regret it later, but your fingers were already numb, and the idea of a warm car was too tempting to ignore.

You exhaled, finally nodding. "Okay. Just... don’t turn out to be a serial killer or something."

Kenan chuckled, unlocking the door. "No promises."

You slid into the passenger seat, the warmth hitting you instantly. As you buckled in, Kenan glanced at you with a raised eyebrow. "So, where am I taking you?"

You gave him your address, still half in disbelief that this was actually happening. Kenan didn’t question it, just nodded and pulled back onto the road. For a few moments, there was only silence, the soft hum of the engine filling the space. It wasn’t awkward, though. If anything, it felt strangely normal.

"You don’t seem surprised to see me," Kenan remarked after a while, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before focusing back on the road.

You shrugged. "I mean, I recognized you. But I wasn’t expecting you to be out driving random strangers home in the middle of the night."

He let out a short laugh. "Yeah, well. I like driving at night. Less traffic, less noise." He glanced at you again, as if assessing something. "And I guess I saw you looking miserable on the sidewalk and figured I could do something about it."

You weren’t sure what to say to that. There was no arrogance in his tone, no hint that he expected anything in return. Just a simple statement of fact.

"Well... thanks," you said after a beat. "I appreciate it."

Kenan just nodded, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. "No problem."

The rest of the drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you hesitated, unsure how to end this strange but oddly pleasant encounter.

Before you could overthink it, Kenan beat you to it. "See you around," he said simply, like it was inevitable.

You blinked. "Right. Sure."

You got out of the car, still feeling the lingering warmth against your skin as you watched him drive off. The whole thing felt surreal, like a fleeting moment you wouldn’t fully process until later.

But you had no idea that this wouldn’t be the last time you saw Kenan Yıldız. Not even close.

It had been months since that night, and you hadn’t expected to run into Kenan again. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

You were sitting in a small café, one of those places tucked away from the busy streets, when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. "Lost in the city again?"

Your head snapped up, and there he was—Kenan, standing at your table with a lazy smirk, his hair slightly tousled as if he had just come from training.

You stared for a moment, caught between disbelief and amusement. "I wasn’t lost the first time."

He chuckled. "Sure you weren’t." Without waiting for an invitation, he slid into the seat across from you, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"You do this often?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What, run into strangers I’ve given rides to?" He shrugged. "Not really. But maybe it’s a sign."

"A sign of what?"

Kenan leaned forward slightly, his gaze playful but unreadable. "That we should actually get to know each other."

And just like that, something shifted.

The easy banter turned into real conversations. The occasional texts turned into frequent ones. Over the weeks, the lines between chance encounters and something more blurred until Kenan became a part of your life in ways you hadn’t expected.

And maybe—just maybe—you were becoming a part of his too.

author’s note: pt2 ???🤔

[chaamenos]

𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑. disjointed caleb lads character study. i need to test how i’m gonna write this guy

warnings: uhhhh smth smth there’s a cannibalism metaphor in here somewhere. also there’s intentional lowercase . pseudocest (like one like mentioning that you two are siblings). this is written on mobile. anyways i really dont even know what to tag this with so go in here expecting some weird shit.

a/n: caleb is so. boy what strand of cocaine did they put it you. anyways, this is meant to be read within the context of the main story (homecoming voyage chapter 1), so not with any of the relationship establishment his cards and myth give

dividers by @/fairytopea

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘. caleb believed himself to be a good child. athletic , good grades, never late, easily made friends. but something always felt… off, when it came to you. a feeling that made his hands twitch, and his body grow cold. though constantly pushed it back as just stress. being an older sibling is difficult, especially with a family with such messed up backgrounds like yours. hormones will mess with a teenager, this is normal. . .

but no matter how often, or how hard he drowned out that part of his brain, it never went away. the part that had him wanting to put his hands on you. dig his nails in until the skin breaks, sink his teeth in and swallow you whole. to clip your wings and have you rely on him forever, to be a part of him until the world ceases to exist.

it was horrifying how the brain can twist things into explicit images. spooked him enough that he made it a point to always be extra nice to you. of course, he was always nice to you, but a little extra doting wouldn’t hurt. he didn’t mind letting you get away with anything, covering up for your misbehaviour, spoiling you rotten. perhaps if he was nice enough, he can fool you into ignoring the obvious issues and thoughts that threatened to consume him from the inside out.

𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆. farspace fleet duties were incredibly mundane in its rotation, and exact in its time slots. meetings never go above 3600 seconds, mission reports never longer than 1800.

expressions and responses also fell into his calculated routine. smile for no more than five seconds, crinkle your eyes to make it authentic, don’t hold eye contact for too long lest you put them off.

it was all tiring, and boring. not at all the life he envisioned for himself as a child.

he could feel his hands twitching, fleeting flashes of you dancing across his vision.

now that he’s an adult, he’s no stranger to this obsession that erodes people from the inside out. an indescribable hunger that drives one made. he’s no different from a wanderer, in that aspect. The only difference being he’s capable of controlling himself.

. . .

At least, to a degree.

𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆. when he sees you again, it’s like being pricked with billions of needles. he couldn’t tell if it was the year he spent away from you, supposedly dead— or if it was the toring chip rewiring his brain, amplifying every feeling tenfold. for the moment he saw you on that landing pad, it took every fibre of his being to not tear you to shreds, and make his home inside you.

it has been approximately 31,816,800 seconds since he’d last seen you, let alone be in your presence. getting both in the same moment was almost too much for him.

but he refrained. this was business, not pleasure. you both are strangers at this moment.

. . .

he was plagued by sleeplessness the moment he’d let you into his home. sweaty palms, a visceral emotion that had his fingernails digging into his now mechanical arm. the both of you were adults now, but that didn’t make his feelings any less potent. in fact, it made them worse.

you were just a room away, so easy for him to have his way with. to intertwine the two of you in ways he’d never even thought of. it was forbidden, and depraved.

hands covered his face, nearly tearing the hairs from his scalp

. . .

you were driving him insane in ways he didn’t know how to deal with

[waynes-multiverse]

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 🤷‍♀️

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 4: This Is Not an Exit

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

“Haven’t you?”

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

“But?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, if that’s what you want–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By being persistent?”

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

He chuckled quietly. “Yeah, guess so.”

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

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

“What about your mother?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t you, though?”

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

Your eyes widened. “Manny called you?”

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

“That motherfucker…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did he say when he called you?”

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

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

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

“I tried to help,” you said softly.

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

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

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

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

“I already know where this is going…”

“Russ, please, just–”

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

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

“How was the lasagna?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yup, he sprinkled that important bit of information into a joke. Then, he watched his little brother take a stumped step back, brow furrowing and unfurrowing and then furrowing again.

“Wha-, wife?”

Russell produced a popping sound with his lips like the noise of a bottle when the cork was pulled. Welp, this bottle was surely open now.

“Yup, got married in Thailand in 2011,” he added another helpful tidbit of information, but Colter’s jaw dislodged all the same.

“Alright, got this all figured out,” you said, sauntering back into the kitchen with a pastel pink towel wrapped around your head and a matching bathrobe. You’d just grabbed them from the dryer, the fluffy material still cozily warm. It was the best option, considering you didn’t want to mess around with your wig as well after popping the lenses back in had already cost you most of your patience. In your little bubble of bliss, you hadn’t instantly noticed the brothers staring at you. But once you did, your brows morphed into a frown. “What’s going on?”

“You two are married?” Colter asked, a pointed finger flicking from Russell to you.

You threw your arms up, looking at your husband. “I was gone for five minutes! What happened to telling him after the operation?”

Russell offered you a sheepish shrug. “Well, this old soldier’s getting weak too, apparently.”

“He said it like a joke…” Colter mumbled, still in the middle of processing this new revelation. His older, estranged-but-now-less-strange brother had a wife. A family. Friends. And he knew none of it. What else was there? Kids?

“Yeah, he does that...” You shot your husband a scolding sideways look. “Should I leave you two alone for this?” you then offered, hoping the answer was a goddamn yes.

“Why would you? You’re family, right?” Colter retorted with a dry smile and a sharp look.

You pursed your lips. While you could see some similarities between the brothers, you took note of one big difference: Russell wasn’t as sarcastic and sharp-tongued. Probably because Russell had always been more concerned with what he should, would, or could share with people in an overthinking loop, while his younger brother seemed obviously free of that burden.

“Don’t take it out on her,” Russell stepped in gently, which really was a warning. “She didn’t know about any of this. Kinda pushed her into it.”

“Seems to be your style,” Colter scoffed.

“Can’t work for the CIA without going through a baptism of fire, little brother,” Russell said simply, giving an unapologetic shrug of his shoulders.

“Why would you not tell me?” Colter stared at him, his look a mix of reproach and agitation.

“Look, you weren’t exactly welcoming during our first meeting,” Russell argued with a bit of bark in his deep voice, although confrontation was probably not the best approach. But why should he always have to take the blame for everything? He’d already done that for more than two decades.

“That was months ago,” Colter countered, scowling. “I’d like to think I’ve come around since then… Coulda told me after we saved Doug.”

Russell let out a small sigh of defeat, rolling his eyes back slightly. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, man, alright?” he apologized earnestly.

With a questioning brow, you carefully nudged your husband’s arm. “What happened to Doug? Is he alright?”

“Yeah, uh, he went to work for Horizon with me. I’ll tell you later, okay?” Russell replied, his voice a lot quieter as if sharing a secret, and if Horizon was involved he probably was.

“Is Tracy okay?”

“She’s fine. Little shook up. You should probably give her a call. Smooth things out,” Russell told you.

Tracy thought you worked in marketing at some company for the government. Whenever you, Russell, and Doug were stuck on a mission, the boys made you call her to “smooth things out” – aka reassuring her everything was certainly fine with her husband and he wasn't in any danger at all. They’d once made you call her from a Black Hawk. The noise had been fun to explain away – you’d told her you were picking up a client from a helicopter pad.

Colter chewed on the insides of his cheeks. “So she knows Doug, too?”

Russell nodded. “Yeah, me and Doug were mostly Delta, but SAD liked to borrow us from time to time. We ran in her team for quite a while. She was actually the one who recruited me.”

At his little wink your way, you smiled. He’d come along way from the sweet boy you had once teased like a special-forces-trained kindergartner.

“Listen, things were obviously a little complicated between me and her the last few years,” Russell (under)stated. “But I’ve brought you here for a reason, okay? Figured it’s time you meet your sister-in-law.”

Eyes drifting from you to Russell, Colter pursed his lips – a tell he shared with his brother.

“Are you mad? I can’t tell.” Frowning, Russell tilted his head.

“No,” you absentmindedly replied for Colter, who gave you a curious look but steered his attention back to Russell.

“No,” the younger Shaw repeated your assumption. “I mean, not more than I was before, you know?”

Russell’s creases only deepened. “No, I don’t know.”

“He means he’s indifferent about knowing or not knowing we’re married because he’s already pissed about not knowing about my existence in general,” you explained.

“Ah. Your nerd is showing, sweetheart,” Russell teased you with a smile that made your heart melt.

“Dory would like her,” Colter commented like the thought had just popped into his head – something else he didn’t share with his brother.

You’d always wondered about the youngest Shaw of the three. Russell could never tell you much about Dory. His memory had been one of a smart and feisty nine-year-old, not a young woman and physics professor.

Thumbing at you, Russell cocked a brow at his brother. “Is she right, though?”

“Spot on, actually.” Colter’s tongue poked his cheek, his gaze flickering with a hint of astonishment and new-found respect for you. “And I guess I’m not really mad either way. Just… surprising, you know? I should’ve asked. That’s on me.”

Russell seemed more than a little baffled to hear this, considering he had to pause to find an appropriate response. “No, uh, we’re good. I could’ve just told you, anyways.”

“Yeah, no, that’s alright.” Colter swallowed, sending his older brother a smile of forgiveness. “Honestly, I was glad to hear you weren’t alone all this time, so…”

Russell’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he pushed down the lump in his throat. With a nod, he averted his green eyes to the kitchen floor. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

“Aw, aren’t you guys adorable,” you teased.

Colter wanted to retort something dry-witted, but Russell held up a warning finger. “Ah – wait for it… Trust me. She’s not done.”

“You girls need tissues or a tampon, maybe?”

“Oh, Dory would definitely like her,” Colter repeated his earlier statement with an amused grin.

Russell, on the other hand, shot you a pointed look, but that had barely ever stopped you before. “Okay, you can lay down. You don’t have to give him the initiation. No hazing my little brother,” he ordered you sternly, and you stifled a snort. “And no one better kidnaps him tonight and puts a bag over his head, alright? I don’t wanna pick him up beaten and bloody from some warehouse tomorrow morning.”

“Hm, what?” Colter’s brow furrowed. For the first time, you could see slight panic spread in his pupils.

Who was hazing who now?

You rolled your eyes in feigned annoyance. “Fine, we’ll leave him alone,” you acted your capitulation.

The younger Shaw blinked at you. “Thank you?”

“Should we at least tell him about the other thing while we’re at it?” you asked Russell with a suggestive look.

Thoughtfully, he paused for a beat, then clicked his tongue. “No, I got it from here. It’s getting late. We’ve been here long enough,” he decided. “This is less becoming a friendly ‘welcome-to -the-neighborhood’ dinner and more starting to look like an orgy to the neighbors. Especially since you’ve put on the robe.”

“It just came from the dryer. Look, it’s so soft and warm,” you argued, pouting, your palms caressing the fluffy material on your arms.

“Uh-huh.”

The little bob of his Adam’s apple made you grin slyly. The way his jaw ticked and his pupils widened with a primal hunger, you could tell he wanted to tear that robe right off of you. The thought caused a shudder to run down your spine.

“What, uh, other thing do you have to tell me?” Colter asked and smiled expectantly, tapping his fingers on the the counter.

Russell, however, grabbed his arm and dragged his curious little brother toward the exit. “I’ll tell you in the car,” he said and thumbed to the front door behind his shoulder. “Wait outside. Gimme five minutes, alright?”

Wordlessly, Colter nodded without argument, gave you a quick goodbye-wave of his hand, and strolled leisurely back to his car as if he knew exactly what his older brother intended to do.

As expected, Russell impatiently conquered your lips, roughly pressing you against the foyer’s wall, your arms draping around his neck.

“What’s the bedroom situation in this place?” he asked between kisses.

“First floor, west side, third window from the right. I’ll leave it unlatched,” you replied, smiling against his lips. “Tom’s always sleeping on the couch. Part of our cover is going to marriage counseling with Pastor Jeff, which happens to work out great for us.”

You exhaled a shuddered breath when one of his hands wandered past the robe and splayed warm against your ribcage, just underneath your breast. His thumb fought an itch to get closer.

“Wouldn’t do that, baby,” you murmured into his ear with an amused smirk. “That boner’s not gonna go away in five minutes.”

“Mmm, I know,” he groaned and dropped his head between your boobs, lips pressing a chaste kiss to your collarbone. If he continued on with this, your arousal would surely streak down your bare thighs soon. Luckily, he had mercy on the both of you. “I’ll talk to him and then come back, okay?”

You nodded with a smile. He kissed your lips, then your forehead, and then disappeared through the door with the same cometary velocity he had entered your vision.

And all you could do was hope you’d see him one more time in your life.

“So?”

4.3 seconds after Colter killed the engine of his pickup in a spot a block away to the west side of your house – as per Russell’s very specific instruction – he stared scrutinizingly at his older brother.

Impatience was also a family trait – one even their father had despised.

“Look, uhm, there’s no easy way to break the news…”

“Is this about you having two kids?”

When Russell’s eyes met Colter’s, he didn’t recognize any anger, hurt or resentment in them – just pure slyness. At least that was good news. His little brother was just going to be annoying about this whole thing.

“Yeah, remember those five minutes you left me alone in the car? I called Bobby. Had him check some things out for me. Wasn’t easy to find. I’ll give you that…”

As expected, Colter was going to be a smartass about it. He figured it out on his own. He won the game.

“Hmm.” Russell pursed his lips, nodding. “You do know the CIA is on your guy’s ass now, right? Shouldn’t have done it in their perimeter, man. Manny’s probably all over this by now…”

Then his brow knit as if the thought of his old friend had provoked an idea, his head tilting with narrowed eyes at the air vents on the dashboard. How long had that car been parked outside and out of sight again?

Like a game of Operation, Russell then used thumb and pointer finger as his tweezers to retrieve a tiny bug – the spy kind.

“Gotcha,” Russell muttered, smirking. He then held the bug close to the speakers of the radio before turning up the volume to its highest setting – only for a second. He switched the radio off, rolled down the window, and threw the unwanted listening device onto the pavement. “That should teach ‘em a lesson…”

Colter cocked an incredulous brow at his brother. “They bugged my car?”

“Oh, trust me, they bug anything they can get their greedy little hands on,” Russell retorted. “Would probably check for a tracker underneath, too.”

“Great, thanks,” Colter huffed wryly.

“Hey, you wanted in. That’s what they do,” Russell reminded him, shrugging, but there was a smile of amusement on his lips.

Colter only bobbed his head. “So, you and her? You guys are good now? Just like that? Seemed… easy. Sorta…”

Russell chuckled lightly, brushing a hand through his beard. He knew his relationship with you was unconventional, but it had always worked for you and him.

“Me and Y/N have a deal, you know? It’s not all black and white. I mean, we became aware a long time ago that the two of us operate in a lot of gray zones. But, uh, we always know we can rely on each other, you know? Doesn’t matter if we’ve been separated by time or space,” Russell explained to the best of his abilities.

“So what happened?” Colter prompted with the same amount of confusion. “Why did you guys split up? I saw on the birth certificate your daughter was only two years old. I mean, did you-… did you even know?”

Russell inhaled deeply, nodding. “I knew she was pregnant. When she told me back then, I-…” He paused, licking his lips. It wasn’t something he had ever talked about with anyone before – not even you. “Well, shortly after that, I had a breakdown and I-… I almost hurt her.” He choked on the words, fighting the sting in his eyes.

He’d tried so hard to forget, wasn’t even sure he had ever really apologized for it to you because he so badly didn’t want it to exist that he’d tried to wish it out of literal existence, and hence, never really blamed you for leaving like you did. He understood. In fact, he had even wished you’d leave. He had convinced himself you’d be better off without him – something he still believed to be true – but he also knew he wasn’t better off without you.

He’d been lost and alone. And maybe, he was being selfish by crashing back into your life now. Or Dory’s. And Colter’s.

“I mean, nothing ever really bad happened. It’s just-… That night I came scarily close,” Russell confessed, swallowing thickly. He still hated himself for that night and everything that followed. “It’s like a switch flipped, you know? I couldn’t do anything against it… And Lewis saw parts of it, and I was already impatient with him and short with her the weeks before, so I just left that night and disappeared for two months. Volunteered for some mission. Figured it was best for everybody.”

It’s better off if he never comes back…

Russell licked his chapped lips. The next part was the hardest.

“When I got back, she told me she got a job offer in another country, and that she would be taking it and taking Lewis with her. She wanted me to use the time to… I don’t know… solve this, I guess.” He let out a humorless scoff at the painful memory.

Russell hadn’t seen it at first, maybe because he hadn’t wanted to, his anger and pain blurring the truth. After his son had been born, Russell knew you could see him struggling, so you started digging deeper into his family and what really happened. And when you’d found something – Horizon – you’d told him you could infiltrate. Naturally, Russell had passed a hard no – it had been a five-hour long fight, but he'd emerged victoriously by the end. So, you’d told him he should do it, but he didn’t want to leave you, and he didn’t want to endanger and jeopardize his family.

He’d told he was fine, but he wasn’t. It kept gnawing on him – and gnawing and gnawing and gnawing… till you eventually pulled the plug and ended his suffering.

“I was exhausted, so I told her we’d talk about it in the morning. When I woke up, they were gone. Didn’t even notice she’d already packed.”

Colter was silent for a beat. “Was it PTSD or something?”

“Or somethin’,” replied Russell.

“But you’re good now?” Colter checked with a warily raised brow.

“Guess so…”

Truthfully, Russell didn’t know if he was or wasn’t. He’d tried hard to figure out what it was exactly that had set him off that night and fix it, but he didn’t know if that feeling would ever disappear for good. He just knew he had never felt that way again since then. But could he guarantee it would never come back?

He didn’t know.

“Look, all I know is, seeing you and Dory again helped, so…” Russell twitched his shoulders and sighed. He didn’t know what else to say, how to explain it better, but Colter seemed to understand anyway, reading between the lines.

Russell worried he’d be like their father.

“I think I get it.” The younger Shaw nodded and licked his lips. “You know, you’re not crazy like Dad was, Russ. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re crazy in your own way, but I wouldn’t worry about the other stuff.”

“Well, thanks,” Russell said, not convinced but appreciative of the vote of confidence. “Makes at least one of us…”

“I-, uh, I noticed their names,” Colter then said and clarified, “Lewis and Amelia. Like explorers. Like us.”

“Ah.” Russell smacked his lips and brushed it off, “Wasn’t really my idea. I told Y/N that story once. Guess she took a liking to it..”

“Are you, you know, gonna tell Mom?”

Russell was almost surprised by the question. The brothers had barely talked about their mother since they’d reconnected. Considering Colter had never brought her up again after their first meeting, Russell figured there was a reason for that – and he thought he probably knew the reason, too.

Russell scoffed a chuckle and looked at his little brother with an almost incredulous look. “I think you can guess the answer to that one,” he replied and figured it said enough. “Did you tell her I came back?”

Colter pursed his lips, and Russell took it as a sign of admission. So his mother knew. Great…

“Sorta,” Colter admitted hesitantly.

“What d’she say?” Russell almost smiled out of amusement. He already knew the answer, but his brother still seemed reluctant. “C’mon, you can tell me. I’m not gonna be butthurt after twenty years…”

“She told me to ignore you,” Colter finally confessed, but the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. They had ever since his mother said them, but even more so now that he knew his brother – and parts of the truth.

“Hmm,” Russell hummed with tight lips and ground his jaw.

Granted, the confession stung more than Russell would ever be willing to admit. The tiny, naive part inside of him had constructed a hopeless fantasy of his mother having a sudden change of heart over the last two decades and happily welcoming her firstborn back. Apparently, not a thing had changed, though, and he cursed himself for feeling disheartened.

“But I actually haven’t talked to her in a while now,” Colter added with a small shrug, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Huh, really?”

“Yeah, uh, and when I did, I didn’t exactly tell her I didn’t take her advice, you know? So…”

“Why not?” Russell’s brow furrowed a little more as he analyzed each word, simultaneously realizing why he had been so reluctant to share his life with Colter before – his subconscious had been afraid his alienated little brother would report back to the mothership.

Colter’s lips pursed. “Because I disagree.”

“Ah.”

Colter chewed on his lower lip. “Look, I know you and Dory wanna keep all of this in the past and play family – and trust me, I want that too,” he assured, but his heart was beating fast in his chest. “But I need to know, man. I need to know why she lied about this for twenty years and, you know, did all of this,” he insisted, and yet, Russell could tell he wasn’t done. He might have broken the dam. “She did it to you. I mean, aren’t you mad?”

“Of course I’m mad,” the older Shaw admitted, but there was no fire behind his words.

“Then why are you so calm?”

Amused, Russell chuckled, shrugging. “Probably ‘cause I’ve been dealing with this a lot longer than you, little brother.”

“So, what are we gonna do now?”

“We ain’t gonna do anything,” Russell clarified, his voice stern. He’d die to protect his family, you and the kids, and do anything in his power to keep you out of it, but Colter was a grown-up – a free agent. If he didn’t want to listen, Russell couldn’t force him. “Look, you wanna find out, you go find out. And if you do find something and need help, you call. But I can’t be involved in this,” he explained, his firm expression morphing into something more vulnerable and sincere. “And frankly, I don’t care that much. You, me, Dory, Y/N, the kids – that’s all that matters, trust me. You’re not gonna feel better or more… whole after finding those answers.”

“How do you know? Do you know what really happened?” Colter instantly asked, and Russell knew in that moment, it’d be hopeless. His brother wouldn’t stop till he found it – forever restless.

“No, I told you. I don’t,” Russell repeated, and while he didn’t know everything, he omitted that he knew something.

“What about Y/N?”

Russell froze at the bare mention of your name, his protective instincts kicking in. “Leave her out of this,” he all but snarled.

But Colter didn’t think about stopping. “Did you ever ask her? I mean, she’s CIA. She could probably find out something, right?”

“Yeah, I asked her once, alright? Was a long time ago,” Russell admitted, sighing. The intended lie would stick better if there was some truth to it – you had taught him that.

“C’mon, Russ… And?” Colter impatiently threw his arms up, brow raising higher and higher as he waited for an answer.

“She never found anything,” Russell said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

This time, it wasn’t just an omission. It was a blatant lie.

“I think whatever Dad was involved in – or both of ‘em – was just some activist shit. I don’t think the government cares.” Lie. “We both know he had a mental thing. Paranoid, probably schizophrenic… I mean, Mom used to pump him full of meds sometimes when he got too out of hand.” Truth. He then stole a glance at his little brother and saw the confusion shimmering on his face. Russell scoffed. “You didn’t know that, did you?”

Quietly, Colter shook his head.

“Well, you were a kid,” Russell said and hoped it would curb the blow slightly, although he knew better than that. “He always took something as far back as I can remember. She used to prepare his pills every evening after you and Dory went to bed. But when we moved to the cabin, he started refusing to take them. Said they made him ‘not clear-headed enough.’ Kinda ironic,” he shared and snorted. “When it got too bad, though, she’d still crush ‘em into his food.”

Colter took everything in with a nod but didn’t say anything more.

“You good over there?” Russell checked after a full minute had passed.

“Yeah,” Colter said and even tried to form a reassuring smile before the attempt failed. Instead, he swallowed. “Just a lot, you know? I didn’t know. I mean, I had some idea, but not-… not that.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Russell said, his voice almost a whisper in the silence of the night. “Like I said, you were a kid…”

When Russell finally left the car to sneak back to you, his shoulders felt a little lighter and his heart a little calmer. He might just float through that unlatched window tonight.

The bad news was, though, he might not be able to retire just yet.

Part 5: This Is a Start – 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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[in-hos-wife]

A lost Puppy in love

Gi-hun x best friend! reader

Summery: Y/n is deeply in love with his best friend Gi-hun, but Gi-hun can't figure out why they are following them everywhere

Word count: 901

You and Gi-hun have been friends since your second year of high school but you developed feelings for him in your last year of high school. You didn’t want to believe it, you liked a you liked your best friend. So you never told him how you felt, and then you guys went your separate ways. When you two did see each other you were inseparable but then he got married he didn’t have as much time anymore but you guys made it work, hanging out every now and then. A few years later he had his daughter you guys went from hanging out once to twice a month to once every three months but you didn’t complain he’s a dad now that was till his daughter was ten and he go divorced, you still didn’t see him that much but when you did you guys hung out together he got into gambling and start asking you for money you’d give it to him when he asked sometimes he didn’t, if you heard him and his mom were struggling you’d give him cash. He’d always say he’d pay you back but you always told him not to you just wanted to make sure they could live

Then two years ago he showed up to your door with a bag you invite him in while you guys are talking he hands you the bag, you look inside and it’s cash “what is this gi-hun?” He stayed silent for a moment than he speaks “the money i owe you” you look at him for a moment you told him he didn’t have to pay you back, but you knew how stubborn he is so you take it and hug him and he hugs you back. After that you to started hanging out once a week you don’t know why but he’s changed he’s not as childish he looks like he has a weight on his shoulders. Everytime you ask him what happened he ignores it or changes the topic so you didn’t fight it. You thought that even if he won’t tell you staying by his side will hopefully help whatever he’s going though, so for the past two years anytime he needed you, you were there you were always around recently even if he didn’t call your there daily like how it was in high school this confused him. He doesn’t understand why you wanna be near him so much, following him like a lost puppy, and his not wrong your a puppy in love again with a man you believe you’d never have but you might have a chance if he could ever see you that way

Now you guys are going to his motel the walk is quite you want so badly to hold his you let you pinky touch his then you move your hand away and try’s to start a conversation and it works you guys start talking. After you got to his motel your sitting in his room, your watching him pace back and forth in front of he’s security cameras footage he look’s the camera and sits down, you decide to talk to him see what he’s got going on in his head a thought of telling him how you feel but you push that down you then go to sit next to him to sit and smile “you ok? You look worried about something” you look at him “I’m fine just wondering things don’t worry about me” when he’s says that you know he’s lying “you don’t have to lie to me I care about you a lot more then you know and I want you to trust me even if it’s not right now” he look at you when you said that he sigh “I trust you but I can’t bring you into this I care about you and don’t want you getting hurt and I do trust you I trust you so much” you smile and lay your head on his shoulder it makes his heart flutter and that makes him confused.

After a few days he slowly realizes he has a thing for you and now that’s he’s watching you more he can tell you like him too and you have for awhile that’s why you were following him like a lost puppy. You where both sitting in your bedroom and you look over to him “wanna cuddle and play trivia like how we did when we were kids?” He nods and you guys start to cuddle while playing trivia, as you both play trivia you start jokingly hitting him as he chuckles you both look at eachother and you decide to give into your inner thoughts and kiss him it was quick and then you look at him “I’m sorry….i just really..I have feelings for you” he looks at you and your worried he’s gonna hate you and that he’s never gonna talk to you again, but then he puts his warm kinda soft hand on your face and smiles “you dork I like you too” *you both chuckle “wow we act like teenagers” you say smiling at him “you know I always wondered why you followed me like a lost puppy” he chuckles and lays you into his chest “then I guess I’m a lost puppy in love” you smile and kiss him then lay on his chest.

Tagged

@pixiepipedreams

[navybrat817]

A Cornucopia for You!

Steve Rogers; secret dating; corporate; fluff

Your feet felt the sweet relief of solid ground as you slipped your heels off in the elevator ride up to your penthouse. The artificial light in the small box was bright, so much in comparison to the darkness outside. You swore you wouldn’t have seen the sun today if it weren’t for the floor to ceiling windows in your CEO suite.

Channing, the newest board member who had just taken over for his late father, had been relentless for the past few months. He forced you to work late hours, constantly tried to embarrass you every single chance he had, and never took your word for anything, claiming the only reason the company held onto a female CEO and put up with you was “because you’re single.”

He wasn’t quite right about that, though. Sure, you weren’t married, but for the better part of a year, you’d been dating someone so sweet, so kind, and so perfect, except for the fact that he was the CEO of a startup company. One that the board considered a rival.

So you and Steve kept a few simple rules: keep the relationship private, and do your best to keep work talk out of your homes. The second rule was a little more flexible, though. The two of you often found yourselves helping each other with problems, pulling on your collective experience, and of course Steve knew about how terrible Channing was being. Especially since he believed you to be a single workaholic that wouldn’t hop off your back.

Work had gotten you twisted so much so that you’d even forgot what today was until the elevator doors opened and you stepped out. Fluorescent light was replaced by candle and moonlight, vases of your favorite flowers lined your tabletops, and lounging in the middle of your living room sat an all too familiar large figure.

“Steve.” It came out as more of a gasp than anything as you watched him stand and gracefully walk over to you.

“Hi, Sweetheart. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He greeted you with a hug and the sweetest kiss on the lips. You could feel yourself melting into his arms, almost all the tension releasing from your shoulders, but when you pulled away, concern furrowed your brows. Steve clocked it immediately, of course he did. His warm hands gently brushed up and down your arms.

“Hey, I know this week has been a lot, but you’re home now. You and I can just relax.”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you nodded, placing your forehead against his shoulder with a sigh.

“You’re right. I’ve got some leftovers in the fridge. I know it’s not the most romantic, but we can heat them up and eat them in the tub?”

Steve laughed, his eyes lighting up with genuine affection before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You heat up the bath and I’ll heat up the food?”

As the two of you sat opposite each other in the oversized tub, bubbles up to your shoulders, you were so grateful for him and the peace he provided you. The sanctuary.

Steve finished off his glass of wine and set it to the side. “I know we agreed no work talk, but I just wanna say one thing. If you think it’s a bad idea, feel free to forget it and move on, but this offer will always stand.”

You shifted, putting a leg in Steve’s lap for a foot rub and you stifled a groan as he began.

“Come work with me.”

Your eyes quickly shot open at that. “What?”

“Be my co-CEO. Heck, be the sole CEO if you want, but I really don’t wanna see you torn up by shareholders anymore. I don’t have those. You’d be your own boss. We’d be unstoppable.”

You set your wine glass aside and sat up, making your way to straddle Steve’s lap, your hands gripping his steady shoulders. You leaned in and watched as his eager eyes shifted between yours, your lips brushing his, sharing shallow breaths.

“Okay.”

Oh, Steve is so perfect! ❤️ Essie, you are amazing, and I love everything about this. I wouldn't hesitate to give Channing the finger on my last day. And the image of the flowers and Steve sitting there both sweetly and full of power. We all need someone like him in our lives. ❤️

Love and thanks! ❤️