#WHAT TAGS ARE THE TAGS I'M SUPPOSED TO USE?

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 2

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

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

AN: I decided to put this chapter out a bit early due to some Father's Day stuff tomorrow. I was blown away by the response from you guys on Part 1!! Thank you so much. 🥰 I had some trepidation writing a new character, but I'm so glad you guys seem to enjoy where this little series is going so far. It makes me even more excited to bring you the next chapter of ESC! 💜

Song Inspo: “Too Late” by The Paper Kites

Word Count: 5.3K

Tags/Warnings: Shaw family feels, a bit of mystery, tinge of fluff and mutual pining, and a twist…

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 2: “Family Reunion”

The next day after he left, you finally managed to get Charlie on the phone. He implored you not to try and find him.

He claimed he was staying with a friend for now, and was picking up some odd jobs through a connection at the museum—another security guard who knew how to get extra work. 

“What kind of extra work?” you asked. You sunk back into the couch in your living room and held a hand to your aching head. You had already lost sleep over this, worrying about where he was and what the hell he was doing.

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Charlie said.

He really knew how to frustrate you to the nth degree.

“Charlie, just come home. Please,” you said. Tears burned in your eyes, choking your words. “I’m sorry for what I said, okay? We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

You heard him sigh.

“You had a right to be mad,” he said. “I’m the big brother, remember? But I’m…I’m a fucking mess. You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

“We take care of each other, and you know that,” you said sharply, wiping at your eyes in frustration.

“Listen, I’ll come home when I can, okay? Be good.”

“Charlie! Ch—” The call ended, and you nearly tossed your phone in aggravation.

“That stubborn fucking idiot,” you muttered.

Four months later, your worry was eating you alive.

Charlie refused to come home or tell you where he was staying. The only time you got to see him was when you visited him on his night shift at the museum. You tried to talk him into coming home, but your brother remained stubborn.

“You get that from Dad,” you’d told him once, while watching him eat some leftover meatloaf you’d made for him. The two of you stood outside the museum on his break.

Charlie had smirked at you. “Yeah, well, you share the disease.”

You’d rolled your eyes at that.

But just when you thought you were starting to get through to him, now, he’d stopped answering your calls. For that matter, the museum hadn’t even seen or heard from him in a week or so.

So here you sat, in the living room of Dory’s apartment, crying into a jar of Nutella that you’d long ago stopped spreading over the strawberries she’d laid out. You had a chocolate-covered butterknife in one hand and a used Kleenex in the other.

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

“You should call the police,” she advised.

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

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

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

“Colter, the tracker.”

You hadn’t had a chance to meet him when he dropped in a couple of months ago, but she’d told you about his brief visit to find a graduate student who had been kidnapped, and nearly killed by a professor in the Sciences department for uncovering a flaw in the man’s research. That flaw would have costed him his entire grant, and possibly his career and reputation. 

The terrible incident had caused an uproar on campus. Students were released from their classes for an entire day after the professor was arrested. 

Now, Dory considered your question with a thoughtful nod. “I’ll call him.”

You were grateful, but your face became pained as something occurred to you. You held up a hand.

“Wait, I just realized I can’t pay him,” you said. You didn’t have more than a thousand dollars in your savings account, and that was for emergencies. Like the time Charlie nearly burned the house down after a lighting mishap with his bong.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t worry about that,” Dory said. She laid a comforting hand on your arm. “He’d do this as a favor to me.”

“I don’t know,” you replied, your brows furrowing. “That’s a pretty big favor.”

She’d told you what some of Colter’s fees could run up to, but she tried to quell your reservations and promised to call him regardless.

However, the more you thought about it, you already had a phone number in your cell…for the one person who would understand the part of your brother that you might never be able to. 

After you left Dory’s apartment, you debated the idea in your head for the entire drive home. 

And when you got to the house, you picked up your cell, and you called him. Your nerves had you pacing back and forth across the living room as it rang. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help smiling just at the sound of his voice, smooth and pleased, and a hint surprised.

“Hey,” you replied, biting your lip. “How are you?”

“I’m good. You’ve got good timing too. I just came off a job,” he said.

“Oh really? Where are you?”

“Well, I’m states-side now. Just got back from South America.”

“Oh, wow,” you said, blinking incredulously.

What the hell was he doing there? you had to wonder. Maybe he was protecting some Latin American emissary. Or maybe, he was doing things you didn’t want to think about. Your brother had filled you in a bit about civilian contract jobs in recent weeks, as he’d considered going after those himself.

“They can pay very well, from what I hear,” Charlie had said. “The problem with that is, it kind of defeats the purpose of leaving the military.”

Despite that mildly troubling thought, you tried to focus on the fact that you had this man on the phone at all.

A smile formed across your lips. “Did you get yourself a nice tan?”

“Eh, not really. Was more of a night job,” he said. “But uh…how are you doing? Not gonna lie, I’m surprised to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’m…I’m not all that good, if I’m honest,” you said.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You heard the concern in his voice. You steeled yourself before you answered.

“Russell, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you for a big favor.”

“Hmm, this sounds serious,” he said.

“Yeah, it is,” you agreed. When you next took a breath, it came out unsteady. “My brother’s missing.”

It was a bright Saturday morning when you welcomed Russell Shaw into your house. He looked around, finding family pictures, bookshelves, paintings, candles, all things that began to shade in who you were in the comfort of your home.

“It’s nice,” he said. “It’s uh, homey.”

You smiled and closed the door behind him.

“Well, it’s the house we grew up in,” you replied.

You and Charlie had of course inherited it after your parents’ passing. Their life insurance policies had helped pay off the three-bedroom house while you two were still in school. Your grandparents helped a lot back then too, and had even moved in for a time. Now they each had plots beside your parents at Grandview Cemetery.

“You want some coffee? I know you had a long drive,” you asked.

“Sure,” Russell agreed. He followed you to the kitchen, where you put on the coffee pot. You made a discreet glance at him. He looked virtually the same, with that familiar green jacket, jeans, boots, and a Jimi Hendrix shirt. You'd had a feeling he was a classic rock guy.

“Look, not that I wasn’t glad to get your call,” Russell said, “but you do know that I’m not the tracker in the family, right?”

“Dory did offer to call Colter, but I can’t afford to pay him,” you said.

“I could help with that,” said Russell. You raised up a hand to stop him there.

“I don’t want that kind of help from you,” you said firmly. “I didn’t call you for money, Russell. I called you because you’ll probably understand where Charlie’s head’s at. Better than me, anyway.”

He hesitated, but nodded in understanding. When the coffeemaker dinged, finished percolating, you turned to make him a mug with cream and sugar, as per his request.

While he waited for the coffee to cool, he admired you for a moment. Even in a plain V-neck shirt and a pair of jeans, your hair swung up in a ponytail, you were still a sight. (Your lipstick did match your shirt though. That made him smile.)

And Russell could admit, it was good to see you again.

“Me and Colter reconnected recently. Did Dory tell you?” he said.

Your brows raised high in surprise. “Oh yeah?”

The two of you found your way back to the living room with your mugs.

“Yeah. We talked for the first time in…shit, over twenty years,” Russell laughed, raking a hand through his hair.

Not only had he been able to say his piece to Colter about their…family issues, they’d also solved a case of their own, with Colter agreeing to help him find his friend Doug, who worked for the same black ops contract agency as Russell. The Horizon Group.

The aftermath of that still left Russell with a bitter taste in his mouth when he thought of how Horizon would’ve left Doug to rot, if it hadn’t been for him and Colter pressing their luck and digging deeper into who’d taken his friend.

That whole mess had also made Russell begin to wonder if maybe he needed a new line of work after all. But, because the money was just that good, he’d ended up on a new job by the end of the month.

Your voice soon broke him from his thoughts.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you said. You reached over and touched his arm, with warmth in your eyes. 

Russell gave you a smile. The closeness between you brought up memories of that dusty bar, and the taste of lime and tequila on your soft, supple lips. But you subtly cleared your throat and took your hand back. He hid a twinge of disappointment.

“So what’s going on with your brother?” Russell asked.

Get back on track, he reminded himself.

You sighed. “Damn Charlie.”

Over coffee, you explained that Charlie took off a few months ago, the night you got back from the bar. You had seen him only briefly, whenever you were able to catch him at the museum after work. He’d been keeping in touch with you on a weekly basis, but now, he hadn’t called in almost two weeks. You couldn’t get ahold of him on any of the numbers you had. They all seemed to be burner phones. Plus, he’d been let go from his job at the museum after not showing up for the past week. 

“What’s he into, extracurricular-wise?” Russell asked.

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me,” you said in frustration. Tears prickled at your eyes, and your lower lip trembled. “He said it was safer that way.”

Russell laid a supportive hand over yours, earning your watery gaze.

“And you haven’t gone to the police?” he asked.

“I think he’s gotten into something…dangerous. I don’t want to get him in more trouble than he might be already,” you said. “I just want him to get help for his problems. Physically and mentally.”

Russell nodded. He understood that you wanted to protect your brother. Sometimes though, getting into “trouble” was the rock bottom someone needed in order to face their problems.

“Does he have friends?” he asked. “Some kinda crowd he hangs around with?”

“Not anymore. I think he’s lost touch with his Air Force buddies,” you said, though you tried to think. Your brows furrowed as something occurred to you. “He knew someone at work, at the museum. Another security guard on his same shift. After they cut his hours down to part-time, Charlie said the guy knew how to get extra work.”

“Okay, that’s definitely where we start,” said Russell. “Let me just give Dory a call. If I don’t let her know I’m in town, I don’t even wanna know the consequences.”

You laughed through your tears and tried to brush them away. 

“Yeah, do that. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Russell took one look at you, and he tightened his hold on your hand.

“Hey,” he said.

You glanced up at him, as tears clung to your lashes. His heart couldn’t help but clench for you. He really didn’t like to see you like this.

“We’re gonna find him. You’ve got my word,” he said. 

You were desperate to believe him. So you nodded, sniffling as you tried and failed to keep yourself together. You were scared, for the first time in a long time. 

“All right, come ‘ere,” Russell said. When he guided you into his arms, you went willingly. You pressed your face into his chest to hide your weeping. His hold was warm and strong enough to make you feel secure. Just for this moment, you didn’t have to pretend you had everything handled.

“He’s the only family I have,” you reminded him. He nodded.

“I hear ya. We’ll get him home,” he said. “And I am going to call Colter. Don’t worry about the rest. I’ll square it up with him.”

“Russell—” you protested, but he just squeezed you playfully. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll pull big brother rank. He’s got no choice,” he joked. 

You shook your head, but you allowed him to comfort you for a bit longer. Because all too soon, you’d have to steel yourself again. You’d have to be the version of yourself that you always had to be, ever since you were fourteen years old.

You invited Dory over to your house, where the three of you were soon joined by the last of the Shaw siblings: the one you had yet to meet.

Colter made it in time for dinner that afternoon. The tall blonde took up your doorway with his broad shoulders and offered you a polite smile, along with his hand. 

“Hi, I’m Colter,” he said. 

You mentally tripped up a bit as you shook his hand and gave him your name. Did all the Shaw siblings have to be so damn attractive?

“Uh, yes, please come in.” You ushered him into your home and led him into the living room, where Russell stood from the couch. 

“Ahh, there he is,” Russell grinned, slapping his younger brother on the shoulder. 

“Here you are,” Colter gestured at him. “Where the hell did you take off to after last time?”

“Ah, you know. Argentina was fun.”

“I’m sure it was.”

You paused in the doorway, just watching the brothers in mystification. Dory shot you a questioning look as she came over from the kitchen. You met her with raised brows. 

“What?” Dory asked. A smile played on her lips.

“Do all of you have to be so unbelievably pretty?” you whispered over to her. Dory smirked and bumped your shoulder, nodding at Colter. 

“What, you wanna make out with him too?” she teased. 

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. Dory just laughed and moved on to say hello to the other blonde. She pulled him down into a hug, and he reciprocated warmly.  

Russell then laid a hand on Colter’s shoulder, as well as Dory’s. He wore a big, proud grin.

“Hey. Look at us, huh?” he said. 

Dory sniffed as tears welled up in her eyes, looking up at both of her brothers. Colter wore a more reserved smile, but he did wrap an arm around his sister and thump his older brother on the back.

You smiled. You were lingering by the kitchen doorway. If nothing else, you were glad that this whole mess had been able to bring Dory back together with her family. 

You decided to give them a moment, and you wandered back into the kitchen. There you took a beat for yourself, mainly to breathe.  

When you again thought of Charlie, you had to wonder just what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

Later, the four of you sat in the living room so you could explain everything you knew so far to Colter. He took all the information in with a pensive expression that didn’t reveal much to you. 

“So you said he was struggling?” he said. 

“Yes, after he got out of the military,” you confessed. “He had a hard time figuring himself out. I got him the job at the museum, but I don’t think it was enough for him.”

“Why is that?” Colter asked. He saw that you were reluctant to explain. “I need to know the full picture of who Charlie is if I’m going to be able to figure out his probable moves.”

You sighed. “Well, he was seeing a VA psychiatrist for a while. They wanted to put him on antidepressants, but he stopped going. He…started self-medicating instead.”

That part was hard to admit, but it was the truth. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t any longer. 

“What substances?” Colter asked. 

“Alcohol, mainly,” you replied. “At his worst, there were hard drugs, but I got him to tone it down just to weed every now and then.”

You bit at your thumbnail out of habit, but you forced yourself to stop, folding your hands in your lap. You didn’t see judgment in Colter’s eyes, just him taking in the information. You couldn’t help but glance at Dory, where you found her sympathy. She knew enough about what you’d been dealing with for the past few years. Russell seemed understanding as well. 

“Anything else I should know?” Colter asked. You shook your head. You felt bad about revealing Charlie’s business like this, but you knew it was the only way to help him. Still, you felt you had to defend him a little.

“Look, my brother has his problems, but he’s a good man,” you said. “He, um…he basically half raised me, after our parents died.”

Dory also knew this story. She rested a hand on your back, and you gave her what smile you could. 

“How old were you?” Russell asked. He earned your attention, and you met his sympathetic gaze.

“Fourteen,” you answered. “It was a car accident.”

He took that in, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry.”

The way he met your eyes when he said it, you believed him. You subtly cleared your throat and directed the conversation back.   

“So, I don’t have a lot of money. But I can give you something for your services,” you said to Colter. Both Russell and Dory met you with similar looks. 

“I’ve got it,” Dory says, before Russell had the chance. Colter waved her off though.

“In this case, it’s not necessary,” he said, focusing on you again. “So Charlie was working at the local museum?”

You breathed a note of relief at his generosity. Dory, Russell, and now Colter…they were all good people in their own way. You felt emotion rise in your throat.

“Yes, it’s about ten minutes away,” you managed to reply. “It’s closed now, but his coworker could be on shift. They always have security in place.”

You grabbed your purse to go with them when Colter and Russell stood, but the former raised a placating hand. 

“It’s best if you stayed here,” Colter said.

Your brows rose. “I don’t think so.”

Colter’s mouth parted, and he blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to push back quite like that; calm and matter of fact.

“Ah, well, it’s really for your safety—”

“I’m not going to sit and wait,” you said. “That’s all I’ve been doing for months. I may not be an expert tracker, or have been in the army, but I do know my brother. And we are going to find him.”

Behind you, Dory was giving Colter a warning shake of her head. She knew just how stubborn you could be. Meanwhile, Russell came up on your other side with a smile.

“What’s the harm in her coming along to the museum?” he said, sliding his brother a teasing look. “Unless the T. rex wakes up all the mummies, Ben Stiller style.”

You wanted to point out that that wasn’t exactly the plot of Night at the Museum, but you held it in with a smile. You gave Colter an expectant look.

He sighed at Russell’s antics, but he turned to you with a nod.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said. 

“I’ll head home then,” said Dory. “Call me if you need anything.” 

You gave her a hug after she gathered up her purse. 

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, rubbing your back. “Colter’s the best.” 

“All right, fine. And what am I? Chopped liver?” Russell remarked, gesturing wide with his hands. You all filtered out of your house, and you locked the door behind you.  

“Oh, you’re special, all right,” Dory quipped back, but she gave her eldest brother a warm hug as well, then patted Colter on the arm before she left.

Russell shot Colter a playful smirk. “I got the hug.”

Colter rolled his eyes and pointed over to his big pickup truck. 

“Just get in the car, please.”

You had to smile at all their sibling teasing. It reminded you of how you and Charlie used to cut up, when things were good. On your way down the driveway, you hesitated by the Chevy Chevelle parked next to your own car. She was still black and sleek and beautiful.

You happened to glance up, and there was Russell, getting into his brother’s pickup. He winked at you across the driveway. You turned your face to hide your smile (and your blush) as you climbed into your car.

Colter noted the exchange when he buckled up into the driver’s seat. He watched Russell do the same on the passenger side, all while wearing a certain smile on his face. When he noticed how Colter was looking at him, his brows raised.

“What?” said Russell.

“What was that?” Colter asked.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” Colter chuckled. He began to pull the car out of the driveway after you in your car, so he could follow you. “What, do you two have a thing or something? Is that why she called you before me?”

Russell shrugged, but his smile was telling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm. Convincing,” Colter said, but his lips tugged upward as well. His good humor diminished though, when he considered the last time he saw his brother. “How’s the arm?”

Russell gave a thumbs up with his left arm—the one that previously had a bullet run through it. It was still healing, even now.

“It’s good,” he said.

“Did you see a doctor?”

“Sure did.”

Riiiight. Another thing Colter wasn’t sure was the truth, but he’d give Russell that one.

“And that unfinished business?” Colter asked.

Russell’s smile faded, but he nodded. “Finished.”

After a moment, Colter nodded as well. 

“Okay,” he said. 

Something occured to him then. He paused, and he reached into his pocket. He held up a small, closed pocketknife with a wooden handle, and he gave it back to Russell. It had the man's name carved on the side.

Russell's smile returned as he flipped the old keepsake through his fingers.

"Thanks for keeping it safe for me," he said.

Colter smiled back. "Thanks for trusting me with it."

Colter parked next to you at the museum. It was closed, but the security guard, Jimmy, did know your brother. 

“I haven’t seen Charlie since he quit last week,” Jimmy claimed.

“He quit?” you said. “They told me he just never came back.”

“Yeah, well, same thing,” he said.

The front doors of the museum opened, and out came Dr. Feinman, your former boss, and the Head Manager. You left Jimmy’s questioning up to Russell and Colter with a meaningful look, and you went to intercept Feinman.

“Hi, sir, how’re you doing?” you asked. Your name fell from his lips in surprise. 

“My dear, it’s good to see you, but why are you here after hours?” he asked, his British accent lilting.

“I’m trying to find Charlie. He’s been missing, well, officially for about a week,” you said. “I was actually surprised to see you here so late.”

The man cleared his throat. He smoothed a hand over his tie and suit jacket.

“Yes, well, we could’ve used Charlie’s help. We’ve had to double our security efforts,” he said. “We’re currently dealing with a sensitive issue, so the museum will be closed until it is resolved.”

“You’re doubling your security efforts… Was something stolen?” you asked. 

Feinman clearly didn’t want to tell you this, but you knew you’d hit the nail on the head by the look on his face.

“Please, keep that information to yourself,” he said. 

“What was stolen?” you asked in concern. 

“I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information. Not even for you, dear,” he said. “I do hope you find your brother though.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that, and as a matter of fact,” you began, but Feinman waved an apologetic hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m in a terrible rush just now. But call my office tomorrow and Brenda will help you with whatever you may need,” he said. “Good evening.”

“Wait, Dr. Feinman,” you tried, but he was already breezing past you and heading toward his Mercedes in the parking lot.

Meanwhile, Colter and Russell weren’t having much better luck with Jimmy. 

“Look, I really don’t know where Charlie is,” he said. “Haven’t seen or heard from him since he took off.”

“He said you connected him with someone who could give him some work on the sly,” Russell said, leveling a hand at the man’s chest. “Who did you connect him with, and what kind of work are we talking?”

Jimmy blew out a breath, like this was really inconveniencing his day. (Or night, at this point.)

“What, you’ve got somewhere to be?” Colter said. “You’re getting paid to stand right here, and we have no problem sharing your shift all night. You might as well just tell us what we want to know.”

Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck in annoyance.

“All right,” he snapped. “I hooked him up with this guy I knew through a mutual acquaintance, who just needed some muscle. I guess you could call it private security.”

“A mutual acquaintance?” Colter repeated. 

“What’re you, James Bond? Who did you connect him with?” Russell pressed.

Jimmy was reluctant to talk. You came back over to join them, and the security guard became even more tight-lipped.

“You guys should go. I don’t have to talk to you, and I’ve got a job to do,” he said.

When he tried to continue his patrol around the museum, you stepped deliberately in his way. You didn’t have the patience for this, and you would no longer be a doormat, letting the Goldsteins and the Feinmans of this world push past you.

“Look, Jimmy, if you don’t give us something we can go on to find my brother, you know where I’m going to go?” you asked. But you spoke before he could respond. “To the police. And your name is the only one I have to give them. Now, if you don’t want that to be you, then give me a different name.”

Jimmy looked down at you, and then over at your intimidating shadows, Russell and Colter. Jimmy sighed.

“Eddie,” he gave, finally.

Russell raised his hands, as if to say, Is that it?

“What, Eddie Vedder? Eddie who? Come on,” Russell said.

“Eddie Mendez,” Jimmy replied in a lowered voice. “I don’t know where he lives. I don’t have his number. And that 'mutual acquaintance' is doing some time in lockup. But Eddie hangs out at a bar called Howley’s.”

You and Russell shared a meaningful look at that. You turned back to Jimmy. 

“Okay. What was stolen here at the museum?” you said. “That’s why it’s been closed, right?” 

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said. “I wasn’t on shift, and Dr. Feinman keeps a tight lid on that kind of thing.”

“We’ll need to get into his office then,” Colter said. 

You blinked wider at Colter. Wait, was he really suggesting you guys break into the museum?

Jimmy pointed to the black device attached to the ceiling above them. 

“See the cameras?” he said. “That's not happening on my dime.”

Colter looked up, and he saw the cameras strategically installed across the front of the museum. 

“Then take us where the cameras don’t see,” he said.

You, Colter, and Russell were able to break into the museum via a storage unit door, thanks to Jimmy’s texted instructions. You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this, but it was for Charlie, you reminded yourself.

You remembered where to find Feinman’s office. You paid for a lot of your undergrad expenses, namely your books and tuition, by working full-time as an office assistant here, and the occasional tour guide. 

You led them to the room where the inventory records were kept. Colter gave you his gloves so you didn’t leave prints, and you were able to pinpoint what was labelled as missing from the latest shipment. 

“Oh great,” you muttered. 

“What was taken?” Colter asked.

“A collection of Native American weapons. Dated almost eight hundred years old,” you said, shaking your head. “The collection is valued at $1.5 million dollars.”

Russell and Colter shared a look. 

“That’s some big motive,” Russell said. 

“When did they go missing?” Colter asked. 

“Almost two weeks ago,” you said. Your brows furrowed the more you read, as you realized something. “Just a few days before Charlie left the museum…” 

The timing wasn’t lost on anyone. But if Charlie was a suspect, Feinman hadn’t let on to that at all. You checked the exact date the artifacts went missing again: a Tuesday night. Charlie didn’t typically work on Mondays or Tuesdays, you realized. And he’d left after the artifacts went missing. So maybe they hadn’t thought to question him yet. One small blessing.  

You sighed. With that information gathered, the three of you put back everything you uncovered and left the building the same way you came in. Jimmy was nowhere in sight, probably patrolling the other end of the museum on purpose.

When you all made it back to the parking lot, you turned to Colter and Russell.

“Okay, what’s next?” you asked. “Howley’s right? To find Eddie.”

“Actually, I think it’s best Russell and I take it from here,” Colter said. “We don’t know what kind of character Eddie Mendez is, but from how reluctant Jimmy was to tell us, it doesn’t sound good.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Russell drew closer and touched your arm. You could see in his face that he agreed with his brother, even though he hadn’t said anything yet.

“Look, you’ve been a huge help,” he said. “But let us work on this, okay? We’ll call you when we find something.”

Still, your lips pursed. “Russell, he’s my brother.”

“I know. Punching out drunks is one thing, but this might be a little different,” he said, grasping your arms gently. “Will you give me some peace of mind, knowing you’re home safe?”

He brushed one of his thumbs along your skin. Already you had goosebumps. From the cold chill on the air, or from him, you weren’t sure. But that simple touch, along with his earnest, imploring gaze broke you down.

“All right. I get it. I’m not the Special Ops guy,” you said. “But call me afterward so I know how it went.”

“Okay, will do,” Russell agreed. He let you go so you could go to your car. You shot the brothers one last look before you climbed in and peeled out of the parking lot.

Russell expelled a sigh of relief. He got into the passenger side of his brother’s pickup while Colter started it up.

Thanks to the late hour, and how little traffic there was on the road, it didn’t take you long to get home.

You’d debated whether you should just go to Howley’s anyway, but you didn’t want to get in the way, or make Russell worry for that matter. You smiled, despite yourself.

His touch had tingled across your arms, and whenever he absently laid a hand on the small of your back, supportive or guiding.

Thinking about him just made your heart ache. Because after this was over, he’d be gone again—on a new mysterious job, perhaps on the other side of the world.

You’d been regretting how you left things with him at the bar for months, but now you were glad you hadn’t gone any further with him that night. Your heart was too easily ensnared, it seemed, and Russell didn’t seem to be a “strings attached” kind of guy.

When you parked in front of your house, you let out a tense breath. Russell and Colter would find Charlie. You believed in them. You just hoped your brother was all right, wherever he was.

You pulled your cell out of your purse to call Dory as you headed for the front door. You wanted to give her an update and let her know that you were back at home.

The call began to ring just as you slipped your key into the lock. Unfortunately, you never got a chance to open it.

A strong pair of arms wrapped around you from behind and yanked you back, and a firm hand over your mouth smothered your scream.

AN: 🫣 *Whispers* Sorryyy. But hey! What did you think of the reader's reunion with Russell, as well as the little Shaw Family Reunion? Plus, we got a bit of the reader working with Russell and Colter on the case.

Now, the real timer starts...

Next Time:

You were led into what sounded like a warehouse. You couldn’t know for sure with this musty bag over your head and your wrists bound together with zip ties, but you clenched your teeth and tried to stop sniffling. Your fear made your heart pump fast and loud in your ears.

Voices echoed around you, arguing, yelling about shipments. You were shoved hard to the ground, and you gasped, instinctively throwing your hands out when your knees hit the hard cement. 

“No…” 

That voice was all too familiar. 

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

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

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

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

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

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

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

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[mariaace]

HIIIII MARIAAA How are you??? If you're not busy or nothin or whenever you get around to it ofc, you should do the one of the Instagram thingies for Fyodor, Nikolai, of r Sigma if you haven't ^^ they're super cute and creative!! 💖 if you have or don't wanna feel free to ignore lol

Hellooooo I'm good?? Very stressed, but good hbu?? And yes ofc I'll do them and I'll tag you in the other two. This one is for Fyodor (your man) i hope you enjoy it<33

Fyodor Insta Series

Liked by Dostoevsky, Koliaa_ and 76.5K others.

Caption:Fedya... I'm lost

Comments:

Dostoevsky:Again, my darling?

↪Koliaa_:AGAIN?? HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU GOT LOST PHHDKD

↪the.one_and_only:You are literally lost every time we're somewhere without using your portals🖐🏻

↪Koliaa_:HEY! NOT TRUE

↪Dostoyevsky:It is true tho.

↪Koliaa_:FEDYA!!

Casino_owner: Where even is that?

↪the.one_and_only:I literally wrote I'm lost how tf am i supposed to know?

↪Casino_owner: Not what i meant🤨

↪Dostoyevsky: Why would you know anyway?

↪Casino_owner: It looks pretty

↪Koliaa_:Yeah not like you.

↪Casino_owner: I sighed so loud.

↪Dostoyevsky: Yeah i heard that.

↪Casino_owner: WHAT??

Liked by Koliaa_, Casino_owner and 63.5k others.

Caption: LOOK HOW PRETTY!!

Comments:

Koliaa_: And they say romance is dead🖐🏻

↪Casino_owner: It looks pretty dead to me

↪the.one_and_only: haha very funny. I hope you become pretty dead

↪Dostoyevsky: Say what now darling? Give me a few minutes.

↪Casino_owner: NONOONONONOO WAIT WAIT

Nakahara.Chuu: We are the roses from?

↪Dostoyevsky: I can show you where if you want

↪Suicide_miniac: Was that a threat??

↪Dostoyevsky: No?

↪Suicide_miniac: OH SO YOU THREATENED ME, BUT NOT HIM??

↪Dostoyevsky: I respect him more than you, yes.

Liked by Casino_owner, Koliaa_ and 84.9k others.

Caption: I love candles.

Comments:

Koliaa_: More than me?😣

↪the.one_and_only: I do not even love you??

↪Suicide_miniac: HA!!

↪Nakahara.Chuu: Nobody loves you either

↪Casino_owner: What is happening in these comments?

Ginn_Aku: Your page is so aesthetic i love it.

↪the.one_and_only:Thank you so much<33

↪Akutagawa.: You're friends with them??

↪Ginn_Aku: Yeah!!

↪Akutagawa.: How come I didn't know??

↪Suicide_miniac: You don't know a lot of things

↪the.one_and_only: Can you already kill yourself? It's taking you quite the time

Liked by Dostoyevsky, Koliaa_ and 104k others.

Caption: It sounds as beautiful as him.

Comments:

Suicide_miniac: So he can't play properly?

↪the.one_and_only: I'm coming to hunt you down.

↪Nakahara_Chuu: I'll help.

↪Suicide_miniac: CHUUYA????!!!?!?

↪the.one_and_only: Accept it. He has better standards tha whatever you are.

↪Koliaa_:PFAAA PAHAKAJAJEHFBK

Koliaa_: I also wanna hear😣

↪the.one_and_only: No.

↪Casino_owner:You a hater or something?

↪Dostoyevsky: And you are a toddler or something?

↪Casino_owner:...

↪Suicide_miniac: KDBDMDKDHHDKEJ

Liked by Dostoyevsky, Suicide_miniac and 57.8k others.

Caption: Once i become a little witch, it's over for y'all

Comments:

Ginn_Aku: I wanna read it too!

↪the.one_and_only: I'll give it to you after

↪Koliaa_: Yeah, cuz they're reading with Fedya right now🙄

↪the.one_and_only: Cry about it

↪Koliaa_:😭😭

Suicide_miniac: It looks interesting

↪Dostoyevsky: Why are you always in my partner's comments?

↪Nakahara.Chuu: Yeah btw??

↪Suicide_miniac:🤷🏻 It's fun here

↪Casino_manager: He doesn't have what to do

↪Suicide_miniac: Who's saying it

Well i hope you like it<33

@luvfy0dor-main @dazailoveschuuya @transmascaraa

© mariaace 2024 pls do not copy, translate, steal or claim any of my works!

[dollfacefantasy]

Ddlg Chris, this, ddlg Leon that... They're good, but mommy Ada is what im looking forrrrrrr (I already KNOW you'll get me kennykins)

mhm i'm picking up what you're putting down hehe

ada wong x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, mommy kink, thigh riding

tags: @nexysworld @d10nyx @pupthepokemonenthusiast

"Come closer for me, babydoll," Ada purrs as she guides you across the couch into her lap.

Her plush lips meet yours in a series of soft kisses. Soft fingertips glide over your thighs to your hips. The swell of her chest pushes against yours. She's all you can smell, and it's absolutely intoxicating.

The two of you had been lounging around the house, both not wearing much to start with. Fortunate for you, only wearing panties on your lower half makes the rush of pleasure that much more intense when you roll your hips down on her leg.

She huffs out a laugh and pulls back a bit, taking in the sight of your swollen, wet lips.

"Greedy girl," she coos teasingly, coasting her thumb under your chin, "Wanting more already?"

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you nod.

"Yeah? You'll need to use your words for me then, baby," she says.

"I want more," you say softly, eyes timid as they connect with hers.

"I already know you want more," she taunts. Her hand sweeps back down to squeeze your waist in tandem with her other one. "You can beg for me better than that."

A whine falls from your lips, but that doesn't cut it. "P-please," you begin, "I wanna feel good."

Her smile grows, but she doesn't say anything to imply you've satisfied her command.

"I wanna be good for you. However you want. Please?" you continue.

"Please what?" she asks in response to your pathetic display.

How could you have forgotten the magic word?

"Please mommy?" you whimper.

"My smart girl," she says, her voice low and seductive.

She pulls you closer on her lap and adjust you so only one of her thighs is slotted between your legs. You get a few more kisses as she pulls you down on it.

"I think I need to teach you some self-sufficiency so I don't have to coax everything out of you," she whispers against your mouth, "I want you to make yourself cum."

Your eyes blink open. You whine softly and reach for her hand, wanting her to make you cum instead.

"Ah ah," she tuts, "Maybe later if you put on a good show for me."

The promise of her hands on you later was enough to convince you to start rolling your hips like you'd been doing before. You grind yourself down against her thigh, letting your clit drag against her.

"C'mon. You're a big girl. You can do better," she teases and leans back. Her hands remain on your hips, giving you little guidance. "I can feel how wet you are. I know you want to move faster."

So you do. As was typical in your relationship with Ada, she spoke it and you obeyed her words as if they were enchanted. Your hips rut against her, displaying an accurate representation of the passion inside her. You moan and your head tilts back as the pleasure blooms within you.

"There you go," she coos, "Such a good girl for mommy, doing what your told. I suppose this is pretty natural for you. Like a needy puppy in heat."

You gasp, feeling your face heat up. In your present condition, words weren't an option. Your mind had been reduced down to a haze of need and desire. All you can do is lean forward and bury yourself in the crook of her neck. Your hips keep rocking the whole time.

"My baby," she chuckles. Her hands slide around to your back and rub it soothingly as if trying to calm you down. You pant against her smooth skin, nuzzling it like an affectionate puppy.

"Feels so good," you whimper, practically drooling on her throat.

"I can tell," she says.

Her palms leave your back and snake between your two bodies to fondle your breasts. The sensation draws more mewls from you and makes you hump her leg faster, chasing that blissful edge that was just in reach.

"Mommy," you whine, "Can I cum soon?"

"Look at you, actually remembering to ask for permission," she praises and plants a kiss on the side of your head.

"Can I?" you whine again with desperation. You had asked in advanced because you knew she would draw this out, but the brink of ecstasy was still quickly approaching.

"Look me in the eyes when you ask," she says.

You force yourself up and look into her eyes.

"Mommy, can I please cum?" you say, making sure to include any words she could tack on to make you ask again.

"Can I?" she mocks.

"May I? Fuck," you whimper. Your hips sputter as your release is impending.

"Yes," she says with a small laugh, finally permitting you to topple over the edge.

You come apart on top of her, bucking your hips wildly as euphoria crashes over you. Your head returns to its spot against her neck. You ride out the pleasure until it dwindles down to a fizzle.

When you're done, she guides you to look up at her, rubbing her thumb across your lips.

"Such a good girl," she coos. She then smriks, briefly dipping her thumb between your lips. "I think I offered you something if you put on a good show."

Her other hand dips into your panties.

"I'd say you've earned it."

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Fuck it Friday

I'm fairly new to fic writing so nobody tagged me but I'm doing it anyway! 🙂

***

For Buck, there wasn't one specific moment where he knew that he wanted to marry Tommy. To him, their whole relationship had been a series of important moments that left Buck more hopeful every day. From the moment Tommy kissed him, his whole world was altered. Tommy Kinard walked into Evan Buckley's life, and everything changed.

It only took eight weeks for Buck to realize that he was in love with Tommy. But he had felt it even earlier. He remembered vividly how his heart raced and desire coursed through him when Tommy walked through those hospital doors in his soot-covered turnout gear, smelling of smoke, and apologizing profusely for not being there sooner. In that heated moment, any lingering hesitation Buck felt about being attracted to men melted away. Tommy really was a beast and Buck felt a deep yearning to hold onto him tightly and never let go.

The next time Buck allowed himself to hope for a forever with Tommy was on a typical, unremarkable day. Buck had spent the night at Buck's, not for the first time but it still felt new and exciting. Buck and Tommy were snuggling in bed, Buck wondering if it were somehow possible to meld their two bodies together. They were interrupted, however, by the distinctive buzzing of Buck's phone. "It's Maddie. I have to answer," Buck said apologetically. "Of course, Evan, talk to your sister," Tommy replied with a smile. God, he is so amazing, Buck thought, not for the first time.

"Hey Mads," Buck answered. "Oh thank God you picked up! I have an emergency!" Buck's heart skipped a beat.

"Chim took an extra shift, and my shift starts in an hour. The Lees were supposed to watch Jee, but Anne's sister is in the hospital, so they can't anymore. I know you're off and probably enjoying time with your hot pilot boyfriend, but can you please, please watch Jee for me?" Maddie said in one breath.

"Well Mads, first of all, you're a first responder. You should know better than to use 'emergency' so casually!" Evan scolded. "And secondly, of course I'll watch Jee. I've missed her lately. I'd love some Uncle Buck time!"

"You're an absolute lifesaver! Are you sure Tommy won't mind?" Maddie asked.

Buck hesitated for a split second. "No, I'm sure he'll be fine with it, and I really want them to get to know each other."

"I'll drop Jee off in twenty minutes. You are seriously the best little brother," Maddie said before hanging up.

Tommy seemed enthusiastic about Jee coming over, but Buck knew him well enough to sense the underlying nervousness and reservation he was clearly feeling. Buck understood that Tommy hadn't been around kids much. He had recently revealed that he was the youngest of three, with his brother and sister being 12 and 14 years older than him, respectively. Tommy called himself an "oops baby" and alluded to that being part of the reason his childhood was so difficult. His parents had wanted to retire and travel the world but instead felt saddled with a child whom they viewed as nothing but a burden.

However, despite Tommy's lack of experience with kids, he was a natural. Jee warmed up to him immediately, despite having only met him briefly before. Buck grinned as he watched his boyfriend having a tea party with his niece, before allowing her to paint his nails a shocking pink. When Maddie arrived a few hours later, Jee couldn't stop talking about "Uncle Tommy" and asking when she could have her next playdate with him and Uncle Buck. Buck beamed with pride and happiness, scarcely able to contain his overwhelming joy.

Buck knew tonight was the night to have the crucial conversation with Tommy. "Hey Tom?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"What's up?" Tommy replied.

"Seeing you with Jee today was pretty eye-opening, and I just have to know." Buck swallowed. "Do you want kids someday?"

Tommy smiled at him. "Evan, if you'd asked me that a year ago, I probably would have said no." Evan raised his eyebrows. "But that was before I met an amazing partner who was born to be a dad." Tommy gently took Buck's hand. "With you, sweetheart, yes, I definitely want to have kids."

Buck's face lit up with a beaming smile, his eyes shining. "Really? You mean that?"

"I've never been more sure of anything," Tommy said, pulling Buck into an embrace. "You and me, Evan Buckley, we're going to make an incredible family."

Buck lay in bed that night, his mind drifting to thoughts of the future with Tommy. He had always known he wanted kids, but with previous partners, it had seemed like an impossible dream. Now, visions of bake sales and little league games danced in his head. He pictured birthday parties and backyard barbecues with the 118 family. Swim lessons, dance recitals, all the milestones played out in his imagination.

"The Kinard family," he whispered to himself with a smile, tightening his embrace around Tommy's sleeping form. The name felt right, like the final puzzle piece clicking into place.

In that moment, Buck's heart overflowed with a sense of contentment and eager anticipation for the life they would build together. With Tommy by his side, that future vision of love, laughter, and little ones no longer seemed like a distant dream. He pressed a tender kiss to Tommy's forehead, whispering, "I can't wait."

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Tippington Affair

Summary: Y/N and Dean are unaware of just how similar they are.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None really. Angst. Pining. Some making out. Kissing. Fluff.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 5,314

A/N: In February I got a request from a lovely anon asking this:

hiii :)) idk of you're taking requests rn, but i was wondering if you could write something with dean x fem!reader where dean really loves her for a while but hasn't told her and plan on never telling cause he just thinks he's bad for her or that he's "poison", but he sees her getting close to some guy they're working with and starts to get like suuuper jealous, enough to make him forget he's not supposed to be with her. I absolutely love your writing and your stories, I'm pretty sure I've read them all haha :)) thanks!

It took me a while to get to this, but I hope you think it was worth it! Thank you so much for this request, Nonnie. And I hope everyone else who reads it enjoys it too. ❤️

Master List || Dean Winchester One Shots || Tag Lists

Dean shouldered his big green duffle bag, slamming Baby’s trunk and frowning at his phone.

-

-

Dean scowled at the name “Tippington”. Scott Tippington.

What the fuck kinda name is Tippington? Dean thought angrily. Sounds like he should be taking cigars and brandy in the library instead of out hunting with a flannel and a shotgun. 

Sam joined him back at the car, having just checked them in and got their room key from the front desk. He tossed it to Dean. 

“203.” He told him and they bounded up the stairs two at a time to the second floor of the Sleep Eazzz Motel. 

When they’d spotted the motel on the side of the highway and Dean mentioned stopping, Sam told him the name of the motel was too close to “Sleazzz Motel” and they should keep driving. But Dean had already been driving for almost twenty-four hours straight. Sam offered to take over but Dean said he needed to stretch out on a real bed. 

“Plus,” he’d pointed out, “you have a habit of really riding the brakes.”

So, they’d stopped for the night.

As they walked through the orange motel room door, they both gave a relieved sigh. The outside of the motel was hideous, but the room seemed decent. It actually smelled and looked clean, there was a decently modern TV, one from the 21st century anyway, and to Dean’s delight, both beds had magic fingers.

They each picked a bed and dropped their bags. Sam sat on the end of his bed and ran a hand down his face before turning to his brother.

“Hey, did you manage to get a hold of Y/N? Is she coming?”

Dean dug into his bag and started taking weapons out to clean them, doing his best to seem nonchalant. “N’ah, she’s werewolf hunting down in North Carolina.”

Sam nodded. “Ah. Too bad, we could use her.”

Dean shrugged. “We got this, it’ll be fine.”

Sam grunted his response and started unlacing his boots. Dean sat back on the bed and laid out a cloth to set the weapons on before starting in on his 1911. 

After a minute Sam kicked off his boots and pushed himself backwards so he was leaning against the pillows on the bed as he picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. Dean was quiet until Sam settled on an old episode of The Simpsons and tossed the remote aside.

“Hey, do you know a guy named Scott Tippington? ‘Nother hunter?”

Sam scrunched his forehead thinking. “Out of Utah? Tall guy, blonde?”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t know him, that’s why I was asking you. What’s he like?”

Sam sat forward a bit to pull off his overly warm flannel. “Well, if it’s the guy I’m thinking of, I only worked with him once, a few years ago.” He darted a look towards Dean. “When you and I were, uh, apart. After Amy.”

It was awkward for a moment before Sam looked back at the TV and continued on. “Anyway, I don’t remember a ton about him, but we ended up on the same Rugaru case and we hunted it together. He was good, I think. If he was bad or stupid, I’d probably remember him more.” He looked at Dean again. “Why do you ask?”

Dean shrugged. “Oh, just Y/N said she’s working with him again. This is like the third or fourth case in a row they’ve worked together, so I was just curious.”

Sam smiled knowingly. “Ah! I get it now.”

Dean scowled at his little brother and then went back to aggressively cleaning the barrel of his pistol. “There’s nothing to ‘get’.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow.“You’re worried Y/N’s getting a bit too close with this guy.”

Dean scoffed. “Whatever. She’s teamed up with him a couple times, and I just wanna make sure he’s not a tool that’s gonna get her killed.”

“Uh huh.” Sam said in tones of disbelief.

Dean shook his head. “Shut up.”

He didn’t bother arguing the point with Sam any further because he knew Sam would see through him - had been seeing through him for the last four years, since the day they’d first had a run in with the former FBI agent.

***

Dean had been immediately blown away by her. She was a power and a force all unto her own, and she was immediately suspicious of them. 

They were working the case of a shifter who was shifting into different parents, and snatching that parent’s kid. They were pretty sure the bastard was selling the kids to other monsters for obviously horrific reasons.

Y/N was only aware of the most recent kid, snatched ten hours earlier. She was on the case, knowing that a twenty-four hour clock was ticking. There were witnesses and CCTV camera footage of the boy’s father picking him up from school, so of course he was their prime suspect. 

But when Sam and Dean came into the local FBI field office and said they’d been instructed to interrogate that suspect, Y/N had just frowned at them and asked to see their badges again. She’d studied them for a worryingly long time before handing them back.

She squinted at them. “You look kind of familiar to me. Have we worked together?”

Both brothers assured her they’d never met and demanded again to speak with the suspect in custody. She’d reluctantly agreed and taken them into the room. But they got little new information out of the incredibly distraught father.

As they were leaving, Y/N caught Dean’s arm and he’d been amazed with how much that little touch had affected him and how badly it made him want to pull her closer, cover her delectable mouth with his and see what she tasted like.

But she’d merely asked him one more time if they’d ever worked together. When Dean denied it again, she shook her head and let him go.

But early the next morning, she’d been outside their motel room, pounding on the door. Dean’s bed was the closest and he stumbled out of it, half asleep, to open the door. He stood there in his black boxers and gray t-shirt and she seemed momentarily surprised, looking him up and down before she pushed past him into the room. 

“Hey!” He protested. He looked over at Sam’s bed, but it was already empty and made up. Probably out running. Dean thought with an internal eye roll as he grabbed his jeans and yanked them on as Y/N spun around to confront him.

“I know why I know you.” When Dean said nothing, she planted her hands on her hips. 

“You're Dean Winchester. And that guy with you,” she pointed at Sam's bed, “is your brother Sam.” When Dean still stayed silent she moved her hands from her hips and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Also, you’re dead.”

She began pacing back and forth in front of him. “After a horrifying and bloody murder spree across several states, you were both killed - ‘decapitated’ the report said. When I called the sheriff who wrote the report, I found out that both he and his daughter, who just happened to be the coroner who processed the bodies, were also missing and presumed dead.”

She turned back to look directly at Dean and in spite of the seriousness of the situation, he found himself once again caught up in how beautiful she was, in the way her eyes flashed as she studied him. And once again he had the impulse to wrench her forward and crush her mouth under his…probably a bad idea, he thought.

Y/N eyeballed him, but he couldn't decipher her expression. Her voice was stern when she spoke. “I should be here to arrest the murderers who faked their own death.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

She stared at him for a minute before she shook her head. “No, because you and your brother aren’t the only weird thing going on with this case. After you left yesterday I dug deeper into the case and stumbled across six other cases, from local municipalities, of missing kids. The cases had been reported to the FBI for consultation, but they all seemed cut and dry, so the locals took care of it themselves.”

She inhaled deeply, frowning at Dean. “The disappearances of all six kids were reported as parental abductions. In every case, there was footage of the parent picking the kid up from school, but every accused parent vehemently denied taking them. Four out of the six suspects arrested, also had ex spouses who refused to believe their former partner had taken the child because they were in very friendly and functional co-parenting situations. Oh, and all six kids were never found, and no body was ever recovered.”

She shook her head. “Now there is a seventh kid missing and it’s exactly the same situation. If you add to that, two fake FBI agents who are actually mass murderers back from the dead, well I gotta think there’s something more going on here that I don’t understand.”

Sam walked through the door just then,  freezing when he saw Y/N standing in the middle of the motel room. 

“Uh…”

Dean waved him in. “Come on in, Sammy. Time to give the talk.”

So, they’d spilled the beans about who they were and the life they lived. She didn’t believe easily, but eventually she admitted that there had been a few other cases in her ten year career that had felt off, that left her with a bad taste in her mouth about what was really going on.

She’d insisted on helping them find the seven year old boy that was missing, and with her help they’d found the shifter and put a silver bullet in his heart in time to save the kid and return him to his real parents.

After that Y/N tried to go back to being an FBI Agent, but eventually she came to see the boys. 

“I can’t go back to pretending that everything is normal. Everytime we’re going after a suspect, I’m wondering whether they’re actually a monster in disguise, or if they’ve got a monster framing them.” She’d shrugged. “So, teach me to be a hunter. I feel like there’s gonna be a lot of career overlap, and hey, the FBI doesn’t pay great either.”

So they’d helped her out, but she was a very quick study and it hadn’t taken long for her to become a great hunter. They often worked cases together.

Or they had until a few months ago when Y/N had met up with Scott Tippington and started working all her cases with him.

Tippington. Dean thought again, dismissively. Definitely a douche.

***

***

“Cheers!” Y/N reached across the table and clinked glasses with Sam and then turned slightly to touch glasses with Dean who was sitting beside her. 

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Cheers.” He said with a nod. 

They all took a big gulp of beer and then clunked their heavy glass mugs back down on the table. 

“So, how have you guys been?” Y/N asked, wiping her hand over mouth to ensure no beer clung to her upper lip. 

Dean grunted non-committedly and she looked to Sam for further explanation.

Sam chuckled. “That’s Dean’s way of saying taking down that nest of vamps we went after, ended up being a bit tougher than we thought it would be. Three of the vamps were friggin’ huge and they didn’t go down easy.”

“Shit!” Y/N said, shaking her head and looking Sam up and down. “They were bigger than you?” 

Dean answered. “Yeah, believe it or not. One of them picked Sam up like he was gonna bench press him and then chucked him clear across the room. Thankfully, I was too quick and agile for him to catch me.”

Sam snorted. “Yes, you were just like a ninja while the one with the beard had you in a headlock choking you out.”

Dean waved him away. “Got out of it didn’t I?”

Y/N chuckled and took another sip of her beer. Sam shifted his gaze from his brother to her and gave her one of his dimpled smiles. “How about you? How’d your last hunt go? Wolves right?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, and then a wraith on the way back. They were both pretty quick and clean. We took them out without a problem.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Right you were working with uh…what was his name again?” He asked, as though the name hadn’t been plaguing his nightmares.

“Scott Tippington.”

Dean picked up his cardboard coaster and began shredding it. “Right. You’ve worked with him quite a bit lately. I guess he must be good.”

Y/N shrugged a shoulder, smiling fondly at the memory of her most recent partner. “Yeah, he is. I like working with him a lot. He makes me laugh.”

Dean nodded, a little rapidly, she thought. “Oh that’s good. Important that your partner can tickle your funny bone just before a demon smashes your head into a wall.”

Y/N frowned. “He’s a good hunter too.”

“Huh.” Dean grunted. “That’s good.” He nodded. “I mean it’s obviously more important that he’s a good hunter so, you know, he's not gonna get you killed. But it’s great that you get along so well too. Important.” He finished with a mumble.

Y/N looked at him askance. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The table was quiet for a minute until the waitress came by to drop off more pretzels and peanuts for the table.

Dean turned a bright smile her way and Y/N felt her stomach lurch as he moved into flirtation mode. She’d seen it many times before, over the last four years, and it never got easier. It was, in fact, the main reason she’d started hunting with Scott. She’d needed distance from Dean. She couldn’t keep watching him walk out the door with yet another new woman under his arm.

But once again, his charm was in full effect as he addressed their waitress. “Thanks sweetheart.” The waitress had long, dark hair, big boobs and a short skirt. She also had a very sweet smile that she flashed his way, making Y/N wanna scream or scratch her eyes out - maybe both.

The waitress popped a hip out as she stood beside their table. “No trouble, honey. Can I get you anything else? At all?” She asked, her warm brown eyes entirely focused on Dean.

Y/N thought the woman was being a little obvious and forward the way she rested her popped hip against their table and leaned forward so that Dean had a fabulous view of the cleavage revealed by her low cut, scoop neck t-shirt.

Dean didn’t even try to hide his ogling and Y/N gritted her teeth as he leaned his elbows on the table, looking up at the waitress. His green eyes glittered brightly with obviously dirty thoughts and promises. “Well, I wouldn’t mind knowing what time you get off.”

The waitress blushed prettily and bit her lip. “Um, I’m off at midnight.”

Dean gave an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Well, how ‘bout that, midnight is just when I was planning to head home. Maybe we could meet up.”

Y/N was clenching her teeth so hard she thought she might crack one as the waitress giggled and nodded. “Okay, maybe you can give me a ride home.”

Dean stared straight into the woman’s eyes and slowly licked his lips before speaking. “Oh, I can definitely give you a ride, sweetheart.”

“Jesus.” Y/N heard Sam mumble under his breath, but she didn’t spare him a glance. 

She was too intent on staring at the waitress who was practically salivating as she stared at Dean, before she giggled again and bounced away from their table. 

Dean watched her go with his head slightly tilted. 

When he swung his gaze back to her and Sam, he seemed slightly angry and she figured he expected them to bug him about his carousing while they were all just sitting at the table.

She wanted to make sure he knew she didn’t care, so she laughed. “Jesus Dean, why didn’t you just mount her right here on the fucking table.”

Oops, she thought, that sounded a bit more angry than teasing. 

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “What? I wanted a date, I got a date.”

Y/N snorted. “A date? A date implies dinner and a movie, I doubt very much you’ll bother with either. You don’t even know the woman’s name.”

Dean scowled at her. “It’s Cindy.” Y/N raised an eyebrow and he shrugged again. “She had a name tag, and I notice things.”

Y/N snorted. “Yeah, especially when they're pinned to a pair of enormous tits.”

Dean wore half a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He drained his beer in one swallow and stood up. “I’m gonna go ask Cindy for another one.”

He sauntered away and Y/N took her hands off the table and shoved them into her lap so Sam couldn’t see her shaking.

She raised her eyes to his and plastered on what she hoped looked like a real smile. “So, Sam, how is YOUR love life going?”

Sam chuckled. “Non-existent and boring.” He took a sip of beer. “How about you?”

“Non-existent and boring.” Y/N said with a small nod.

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

“So…” Sam cocked his head. “You don’t have anything going on with this uh…Tippington guy you’ve been working with?”

“What? Ew! No.”

Sam frowned in apparent confusion. “Ew? Why ew?”

Y/N shook her head, her face still scrunched. “Because he’s the same age as my Dad!”

Surprise registered on Sam's face followed quickly by confusion. “Scott Tippington? Out of Utah?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, he's from Virginia, or…no West Virginia.”

“Oh.”

Y/N shook her head and then grinned at the idea of dating the grumpy old hunter. “I mean he's pretty good-looking for a 68 year old hunter. But…I think we're just gonna be friends.”

Sam smiled, chagrined. “That's probably a good plan.”

Dean sauntered back towards them and Y/N felt her stomach muscles tighten at his long-limbed, bow legged stride. Dean moved in a way that always made her take notice. When he was hunting, his movements were crisp and efficient, no wasted motions. He was precise and deadly. 

When he wasn’t hunting though, when he was relaxed, he moved his body through the world with a kind of ease, loose and almost carefree. He reclined in chairs, leaned in doorways, and put his feet up on tables. He stretched and relaxed his tall frame into comfortable positions that always made Y/N wanna climb up into his lap and cuddle.

He plunked himself back down beside her with a new mug of beer. Y/N tried to make her grimace look like a grin.

“So, you got your evening all planned out?”

Dean nodded and took a sip of his beer. “Yeah, we’re outta here in about fifteen minutes.” He looked at Sam and winked. “Don’t wait up.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t planning to.”

Y/N let some of her frustration show. “So, you’re really gonna ditch us after like a half hour. I thought we were supposed to be catching up.”

Dean’s jaw ticked as she looked at his profile. “I figured we were all done catching up. Your wolf hunt went great cause you had your amazing new partner and our vamp hunt went kinda shitty cause we could have used an extra pair of hands.”

Y/N scowled at him. “Seriously? Are you pissed at me for hunting with Scott? I wasn’t aware we’d signed exclusive contracts.”

Dean chuckled darkly. “N’ah, we’re definitely not exclusive. You are under no obligation to us whatsoever. So, you’re good.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Y/N said and Dean turned to look at her. “You’re seriously running off to spend the night with wonder tits over there because you’re pouting?”

“Wow.” Dean said with a head shake. “Whatever happened to the sisterhood? That was pretty rude.”

Y/N scowled at him. “You know, you’re right. I should do my part for the sisterhood by going over to that nice girl and warning her to find another ‘ride’.” She said, using air quotes. “Cause God knows she’s gonna come to regret it when she turns into just another notch on your belt.”

There was no hiding her annoyance now and she didn’t bother.

Dean dropped his jovial pretext too and turned to face her better. “Why the hell are you being so preachy and judgemental? Since when do you give a shit who I fuck?”

“Dean-” Sam started to speak but Y/N spoke over him.

“I don’t.” she denied vehemently. “But I mean, Jesus. Do you ever think with anything other than the dick in your pants? I mean seriously, it’s gross.”

“Y/N-” Sam tried again but Dean leapt to his feet, banging the table and sloshing their beer across the wooden top.

“For fuck’s sake.” Sam mumbled as he jumped up too, trying to avoid the beer streaming towards him.

Dean’s face was furious as he stared down at her. “Well I don’t wanna gross you out, so I guess I’ll just go sit at the bar till I’m ready to go.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, guilt plagued her when she saw the hurt in Dean’s mossy green eyes as she slid out of the bench seat to stand just in front of him.

“Don’t bother. I’m gonna take off, got a lot of driving between here and my next hunt.” She stared up at Dean, hoping against hope that he might tell her that they should both stay.

But he just smiled a tight smile. “Yeah, say hi to Tippington for us.”

Y/N gave a terse nod. “Yeah, whatever.” She glanced at Sam. “Take care, Sam. Hope to see you soon.”

She didn’t bother addressing Dean again, just turning away and walking out the door, wishing she could leave behind her feelings for him just as easily.

***

Dean grabbed a rag from the bar and wiped up the spilled beer before sliding back into the seat across from his brother who was frowning at him.

“Dean, what the fuck is the matter with you?”

Dean glared back. “What’s wrong with me? Nothing’s wrong with me. Why don’t you chase Y/N down and ask what the fuck’s gotten into her lately. She goes months without seeing me, us, I mean, and then storms away just because I had the audacity to make a date for later.”

Sam let out a frustrated growl. “You really think she was just mad you made a date, which, by the way, is a very loose translation for what actually happened with the waitress.”

“No, she was obviously mad and took off because she thinks I’m gross, cause she disapproves of my lifestyle, I guess.” He said, trying not to let the hurt bubble up. 

What the fuck do I care what she thinks of my choices? He thought angrily.

Sam opened his mouth to say something more, but Cindy showed up at the end of their table.

“My boss let me off a bit early.” She smiled bashfully and nodded towards the door, clearly anxious to be underway. “Wanna go?”

Dean smiled at her and stood up, grabbing her hand. “Hell yeah, let’s go.”

***

***

There was a pounding on Y/N’s motel door that would have woken her up if she’d actually been asleep. But she’d just been restlessly tossing and turning, feeling guilty about Dean, but hurt over Dean too. The fact that he hadn’t texted back, clearly meant he was still on his “date”.

The long and short of it was she was in a rotten mood and the pounding on her door at two in the morning wasn’t helping. 

Stupid drunken idiots next door.

When they wouldn’t take the hint and go away, Y/N threw off the covers and stomped to the door, throwing it open, ready to tell them to fuck off. But it wasn’t her neighbors on the other side.

“Dean!” Y/N exclaimed, her surprise turning into a frown. “What the hell are you doing here? Where’s your date?”

“I got your text.” Dean answered, brusquely.

He was staring at her, raking his eyes up and down her form standing in the doorway. Two spots of pink rose in Y/N’s cheeks as she realized she was just wearing a ratty old t-shirt and panties. She tugged self-consciously at the front hem of the shirt trying to ensure she was covered. 

She opened her mouth to ask again what Dean was doing, but before she could get a word out, he’d pushed her backwards into the room with his hands at her waist. In one quick motion he kicked the door shut and spun her so he could slam her up against the wood-paneled wall.

She gasped, her eyes wide and her heart slamming against her ribs. Before she could get a word out, he was crashing his lips onto hers and sweeping his tongue into her mouth. He tasted like smooth whiskey and she was quickly drunk on him, her head reeling as his hands moved from her waist to grasp her cheeks and hold her steady.

His mouth ravaged her, pulling shocked and hungry whimpers from her throat. When he finally pulled his mouth away from hers, he simply trailed his silken lips down the length of her throat, while his rough hands strayed down her body to slip under the hem of her shirt and up her ribcage. His hands rested there, and he lifted his thumbs to brush tantalizingly against her rock hard nipples.

Y/N threw her head back, cracking it against the cheap wood paneling and knocking some sense into herself along with the slight pain. 

She shook her head and pushed against his forearms. “Dean! What the hell? What are you doing?”

He pulled his head up, licking his lips and panting heavily. His hands stilled, but they stayed warm against her ribs.

She tried to make sense of what was going on, but his tantalizing lips were still hovering above her and it was everything she could do to not simply ignore her sense of reason and latch on to them again. 

Instead she shook her head again and frowned. “Dean, what's going on? You were supposed to be on a date, remember?” She tried not to let too much vitriol into her voice, but felt like she’d failed. 

Dean’s jaw ticked. “I just drove her straight home.” He paused, still breathing rough. “I don’t want her.” His gaze dropped to her mouth again and he bit his bottom lip. “All I want is you.”

Y/N shook her head, willing herself to wake up and live with the disappointment of this all being a dream. “Dean,” she whispered, “what are you saying? Where is this coming from?”

Dean’s gaze turned sad before he closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers. “Don’t date him.”

Y/N frowned in confusion. “Don’t date who?”

Dean shoved away from her and ran a hand through his hair as he began pacing. “I know I have no right to ask you, I have no right to you, no right to love you, I know I’m poison, I know I’m an asshole for trying to make you connected to me, I know I’ll never deserve you.”

He stopped pacing and turned to look at her. “I know Tippington is probably a much better option, but…” He strode three paces back to her and cupped her cheeks in his big hands. “But he can’t possibly love you more, want you more. I know that too.”

All Y/N could do was blink at him and then suddenly his words penetrated her brain and tears flooded her eyes and she begged her mind to just let her keep sleeping, keep living in the dream. 

Dean’s face crumpled and he looked stricken. He pulled her against his chest and she buried her face there. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry. It doesn't matter. Ignore me. It’s okay, I’ll be okay. You don’t have to say anything back. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please don’t cry.”

His voice sounded choked and he rubbed a hand soothingly up and down her back. “I shouldn’t have come here like this. I’m an asshole, just ignore me, okay?” He repeated, and took a shuddery breath. “Date who you want, of course. Don’t cry.” 

Y/N pulled back from the softness of his flannel beneath her cheek, raising an eyebrow as she shook her head. “And what if I wanna date you? Does that declaration of love come with dinner and a movie?”

It was Dean’s turn to stare blankly at her. She reached up and dashed away her tears before wrapping her hands around the back of his head and pulling his lips back to hers. Y/N kissed him for a solid thirty seconds before his brain seemed to kick into gear and understand what she was saying. When he did though, he growled and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around her ribs and pressing her close. She reveled in the long, hard feel of him pressed up against her, the way she’d dreamed of him for so many years.

When they were both desperate for oxygen they finally broke the kiss and panted harshly as they looked into each other’s eyes, both of them thrilled when they read the real, solid proof of love in the other’s gaze.

Dean’s beautiful face split into an equally beautiful smile. “So, are you really picking me?”

Y/N smiled back warmly and let her hands rest against his scruffy cheeks. “Dean, I love you, and I choose you completely, over everyone, anyone. But…” She grinned at him mischievously. “Scott Tippington is sixty-eight years old and has never been anything more than a good hunting partner. Just so we’re clear.”

Dean frowned. “But Sam said -” He cut himself short before closing his eyes and shaking his head. “So, I was jealous of nothing.”

Y/N laughed softly. “Were you jealous? Really? Like me with the waitress…Cindy.” She gave a little eye roll.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, we’re a couple of dumbasses.” 

Y/N punched him lightly in the bicep. “Speak for yourself. I wasn’t a dumbass, I was a tragic pining heroine. After all, you gave me no hints you felt this way; how could I have possibly known?”

“Are you serious?” Dean asked incredulously. “I did everything but climb into your lap and beg.”

Y/N laughed and then felt her body warm as she laid her hands on his broad chest. “I’d be onboard for that.”

Dean’s eyes darkened as he lowered his head and captured her lips in a long, languid, sensual kiss, just dipping his tongue in to taste her and sipping at her lips.

When he pulled out of the kiss to nuzzle the shell of her ear and then suck her earlobe between his plump lips, Y/N gasped and clutched his shirt in her hands.

“Please.” She whimpered.

Dean gave a soft, slightly wicked chuckle against her neck as he skimmed down her skin. “That was supposed to be my line, sweetheart.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

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[echantedtoon]

Ocean Deep Ch12 Interlude P2

(Warnings: Mentions of killing and murder.

It's short but it is just supposed to be an interlude chapter to show more interactions between Rengoku and Yn and his feelings on the subject.)

taglist: @six-eyed-samurai @lavenderdrxp @jjamsbangtan @camilo-uwu @hopefulworld1

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Remember if you want to be added to the tag list lemme know.

The night was dark and silent in the home as night claimed the skies for the next few hours. Just how it should be. He should be asleep. He knows he should be! But-

A loud yawn caused fiery eyes to look behind him. Suma yawned loudly and stretched out her body where she laid literally on her back on top of his back, before she just flopped her arms back down and let out a loud snore. He sighed before letting out a small chuckle and turned his head just far enough to kiss the top of Suma's head where it laid on his shoulder. The comforting scent of fruit and flowers from the shampoo she used hitting his senses.

He wasn't alone really. Not by a long shot. Makio was curled up on his left pressing her forehead to his side chest as he laid on his stomach. Hinatsuru's form pressed against his rest as her peaceful face was smooshed into the pile of towels they'd laid out upon the floor. Meanwhile with both his sides taken Suma opted to literally climb on top his back and sleep. He didn't mind though. She wasn't that heavy.

The brief smile disappeared from his face and he once again sighed looking at the floor or more specifically his hands. One fist opened revealing a familiar sight. A strand of perfectly polished stones. They glowed silver in the moonlight and softly clinked together as he lazily moved it about his fingers like a snake. 

Tengen.

The last time he saw him was four weeks ago. One week traveling through rivers and streams and getting injured after colliding into a tangled up mess of metal wire netting and fishing hooks which is exactly what Tengen feared would happen to them if they went off into the river systems. If he was here right now, he'd be yelling at him and dragging him back home by his fins. The other three weeks spending time here recovering from said injuries surrounded by their wives. He thanked Posidon that they were safe and sound and alive and some relief had come to him for that but now he had a new worry to worry over. What must Tengen be going through right now? He still remembered what their last exchange was-

"It's been over a year.. They're long dead."

"Don't speak like that! We don't know if that's true!"

"OH SPARE ME ANY DAMMED HOPEFUL THOUGHTS!! THE FACTS ARE FACTS AND ONLY A FOOL WOULD DENY REALITY!! They're just-...gone..... They're dead. They're dead and they're not coming back. You're the only thing I have left!"

"Then...what are you going to do?"

"... I'll tell you what I'm going to do." Kyojuro would never forget the look in Tengen's eyes or the way he turned to him that day. It was both full of rage, hurt, sadness, and longing yet so emotionless and apathetic at once. There is a saying that states that sometimes a person reached a level of rage so fierce and intense that they felt nothing but calm and numb. One of the most dangerous levels of emotions. "Until the day I die, one after another I will take from them like they did us."

You could say many things about Tengen. Sanemi Liked to call him an idiot for all the jewelry his body decorated as it'd only 'slow him down and make it more difficult hunting'. Sanemi's words not his. Tengen was an excellent hunter before he even started lacing his body. He actually started out polishing rocks and wearing them like a goofy child. That's how he proposed actually. They were merely young teenagers then. Tengen had come over and just dumped a giant amount of shiny rocks and caught fish at his fins-

"There! That should be enough!''

He had been so confused. "What's with all the rocks and fish for?"

"This is my wedding gift for you! Don't question it because I won't take no for an answer, Kyojuro! You're my husband now!"

Kyojuro never snapped up surprised so fast before."ME?!"

"OF COURSE!! THERE'S NOTHING ELSE FLASHIER! AND I KNOW WHAT LOOKS GOOD!!"

Try explaining all of that to their parents. It still got a laugh out of him. He still laughs when he remembers how Tengen met their wives too. Makio was close to his family and he was already smitten with her too for a long time. Hinatsuru he just ran into one day and got so distracted by her that he ran straight into a dolphin. Suma clung onto him.. Literally. She latched onto him after taking slight interest in her sister and Tengen brought her home and simply proclaimed that she was now theirs. You wouldn't think the five of their different personalities would mesh well but surprisingly they all worked out quite well-

"Mr. Rengoku?"

"Gah?!" He jumped up as much as the girls weighing him down would allow and snapped up- "Ah!" Only to be blinded by a bright light.

"I'm so sorry!" The light was pulled back and a dark figure stood above him. "I didn't mean to shine it in your eyes. "

His eyes blinked slowly adjusted to the new darkness and looked up at f/c eyes. Oh...It was the human woman. The one the girls had fallen for and tried to convince him to take as a wife too. He was unsure about that still and honestly had completely forgotten about it. Sure she was beautiful and obviously very kind. For a human it surprised him but looking at the bigger picture, it was best not to because he was sure Tengen wouldn't appreciate that.

"Oh. Madam L/n." He relaxed back. "You startled me. Wha-What are you doing up so late? I hope I didn't wake you."

She waved her hand and he finally noticed that the light was coming from a single candle in a candle holder she carried. "No, no. I woke up because I forgot to lock the back door but I heard someone moving around and came on you all ." Huh. That's rather thoughtful of her. Her head tilted at him. "Why are you up so late? Are mermen nocturnal or something?"

"No-..Well anglerfish mers are but not me. I was just .." His fist clenched again making  the rocks clink together and her head turn at the sound. "I-It's sometimes hard to sleep over Suma's snoring. Nothing to worry yourself about." 

"...Is that Tengen's rock strand?" She looked back to him with a frown. 

He paused..but eventually sighed and reached out a hand to rub his face. "Was I that obvious?"

"Not really. It's just a guess since I caught the others doing the same thing." One eye of his opened hearing some shuffling and a small thud sound and was surprised when she had slowly sat down in front of him and placed the candle a safe distance aways from her. "Is that why you can't sleep?"

Kyojuro stared at her before once again sighing. Pushing face further into hand. "I can't help it. I worry for him the same as I did our wives. I don't know what he's doing without me there or if he's alright..But if I am being completely honest, I feel guilty."

Her eyes blinked and her head tilted. "Guilty? For what?"

"It's not like I told him about what I was doing. If he knew, he would've just told me I couldn't, even physically restrain me if he thought it was needed." His eyes closed, shame and guilt building up within his chest. "He must be worried sick thinking I abandoned him or worse. I fear the worst. Such as he might start traveling up river looking for me now? The thought of him getting hurt or worse. I'm a sorry excuse for a husb-"

"DON'T."

The sudden shift in town made him jump but not as much as the hand clasped over his. Her expression firm in the candlelight. "Don't you dare finish that sentence. Now you shut up all that self loathing. You're not a bad husband to go look for your wives. You're not going to help anyone with anyone bringing yourself down either."

He opened his mouth ..but closed it and glanced at the hand she held. A pink rising to his cheeks. ".... Perhaps..Y-You are right about that. Yes. *ahem* I-Im just worrying myself over what ifs and pointless fears."

She smiled and patted his hand. "There you go! And soon enough you'll be together again anyways! So there's nothing to worry about, Mr. Rengoku-"

"Kyojuro."

She blinked. "Huh?"

Fiery eyes looked at her own. Face red and burning like his heart. "Please...Just call me Kyojuro. I-I'd prefer it if you just called me by my name for the rest of our time together."

"Oh..Ok! I will. Hey. Isn't it uncomfortable to have them sleeping piled on you with your injuries?"

"It's a little sore but it's not painful." His eyes laser pointed at where she still held his hand pupils becoming large. "I'm perfectly fine right now."

You woke up with a start. A pile of warmth all around you and soft snoring sounded as the snoring mers laid out on each other and you in the pile. You were shocked mouth opening as you recounted the past few hours. It was all a blur. Akira got here. Rengoku threatened him until he left. They kissed you and-

SNORT!!

Your body froze as the sleeping form of Kyojuro turned on his side and instinctively reached out an arm to pull his nearest wife closer to him- Instead you found yourself pulled against his chest with his arm slung around you, his sleeping chin pressed on the top of your head, and behind you Makio curled up closer against your back before with a small grunt she quickly fell back into deep sleep. You couldn't see the the other two but they were piled on Rengoku one way or another. You just laid there. Red faced. Staring up at the ceiling as you were pressed against Kyojuro's bare biceps.

....A small wheeze left your throat-

"You may admire me in the morning," he sleepily mumbled snuggling closer. "Go back to sleep, Dear. Then we'll talk more about medical kissing without the medical part."

"DON'T SAY THAT!"

[ruinmegently]

— CREATURE

/* Ramattra and Genji have a moment. */

"We are brothers in our oppression, if not in our ideologies."

"Yet you still call him brother."

The creature cants his head, peering at Genji as if the cyborg is a worm struggling in the dirt — dragged up by a heavy rain.

That is what Genji has taken to calling this beast of war. Creature. Not because of Ramattra's machinery or metal parts or rogue coils, but for the tint of the soul simmering wildly beneath those wires. The omnic sits in a meditative pose, bound by tight hardlight restraints that light the dark room with a faint teal glow. Stuck to the cement floor. Yet Genji feels small when pinned by that rough gaze.

"Your point, cyborg."

He could, maybe, pace. Be loose and liquid. Cocky, like Cassidy who'd entered the cell with a cigar and a swagger. Or Dr. Ziegler, stiff and no-nonsense and somehow far more spooky than Genji remembered her. His peers had pressed for knowledge about Null Sector's future plans and found only resistance against metal.

But Genji isn't here to interrogate.

He sits cross-legged in front of the Ravager. Elbows anchored on knees, chin resting between his palms. So small in the shadow of an omnic forced to bend.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Genji asks after a long moment of silence. Ramattra only stares. "I could ... bring you a pillow?"

"I have no need for your supplications."

Genji raises a brow. Supplications — as if, even imprisoned, Ramattra believes he holds a power worthy enough to make his captors grovel. Or, no. Not power.

Conviction.

Speaking of which.

Genji digs into the deep pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a single metallic orb. It hums with yellow light running through its intricately carved veins. The omnic before him tenses, like a widening of eyes.

"He wanted you to have this."

"I have no—"

"No need for it, yes. I told him you would say something like that."

But still, Genji places the orb on the ground and rolls it forward. It crosses the space between them and bops Ramattra on the knee.

The creature can neither accept nor deny the gift, arms restrained. His head tilts down to stare at it instead.

"It is an orb of har—"

"I know what it is."

Where others might see silence in the eerily still way Ramattra holds himself, Genji has spent enough time living with the Shambali monks to recognize the language of despair.

"Why did he not bring it himself?"

"I think you know the answer to that, too."

Genji unfurls, rising with practiced grace. He turns to leave the cell.

"What," Ramattra calls after him, voice a hateful, smooth rumble. "No questions on what I plan to do to you, your friends, your kind?"

The cyborg doesn't pause until he reaches the door, fingers on its handle.

"You would never hurt him, would you?"

"Explain."

"Zenyatta. You stand on opposing sides, but you would never hurt him."

If Genji senses confusion from the predator he's turned his back on, he doesn't speak word of it.

"Of course not," Ramattra says. "He is my brother."

A laugh spills from Genji like a bark. Harsh. Cold. He shakes his head. Tugs on the handle.

"I'll get you a pillow," he says, pulling the door shut behind him.

[thevioletcaptain]

i genuinely don't care how good a piece of ai generated art or writing looks on the surface. i don't care if it emulates brush strokes and metaphor in a way indistinguishable from those created by a person.

it is not the product of thoughtful creation. it offers no insights into the creator's life or viewpoint. it has no connection to a moment in time or a place or an attitude. it has no perspective. it has no value.

it's empty, it's hollow, and it exists only to generate clicks (and by extension, ad revenue.)

it's just another revolting symptom of the disease that is late stage capitalism, and it fucking sucks.

[egophiliac]

Hi it's just to let you know that the official romanization of Revaan's name is Raverne ! Also they have romanized Baul's name to Baur !

Twst coming back at us again with the least expected romanization! thank you everybody (oh god my inbox) (no it's great, I literally asked for this and the reactions have been INCREDIBLE, thank you all!)

I do like Raverne though, I think it's got a nice fancy sound to it! (I had kinda suspected it was going to be an R instead of an L, so the fact that it's SO close to Laverne except for that is hilarious to me personally.) and Dragoneye Duke is honestly probably the best translation for his title, I wasn't envying the localizers that one. :') Baur instead of Baul I was NOT expecting, but in retrospect I think his name's supposed to be a reference to the Bauru crocodile, so that actually makes way more sense!

someone else also said Meleanor has become Maleanor, which is the REALLY weird one to me, because I was so surprised it was written as Mel instead of Mal in the first place?! oh god no I can't decide which one I like better. 😭 (I wonder if they might change it to Mal...they have made romanization changes before) (like I remember House of Distraction being corrected to House of Destruction in Playful Land) (I did check and she's still Mel for now, but I dunno, they might Mal her up and some point and save me from having to make a decision about which one to use) (HECK I CAN'T DECIDE)

uhhhh thank you for letting me ramble about anime names, let's just say MONOGRAMMED SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE

[tofixtheshadows]

This is one of my favorite minor details in Dungeon Meshi, firstly because what in the femme fatale, but also because it's one of those little things that raises so many questions about worldbuilding.

The Occam's Razor defense attorney in me says that Ryoko Kui gave Kabru a boot knife because she wanted him to escape from his bonds here. And Kabru is a very competent swordsman, why wouldn't he have a boot knife, sure. He's already got a dagger, he can have this too.

And yet: the implications. Kabru, why do you have that? That is not remotely something that could be easily accessed or used in combat. Nobody is pulling out a pen knife from the heel of their boot during a fight with a monster. It's useless in the dungeon ... unless you're the type of person who isn't just worried about monsters.

I've mentioned this before, but I consider one of Kabru's functions in the narrative as being the character who fully brings the idea of human ecosystems into the story. There's a reason why he's always connected to large groups of people (Toshiro's party, the Canaries). He (along with Mr. Tansu, briefly) introduces the reader to the social and political forces working on the dungeon, showing us that none of this is happening in a monster-filled vacuum. His confrontation with the corpse retrievers, who very nearly kill Kabru's party permanently with their reckless murder-for-money scheme, reminds us that monsters are not the only things that prey on humans. Kabru understands the ways the dungeon causes people to put profit over human lives.

We only get hints of it in the story, but like any gold-rush-style economic boom, it's implied that there is a lot of crime and corruption surrounding the dungeon.

So yeah, it really makes me wonder why Kabru keeps a tiny knife in his boot, meant to be carried on him even in situations where he would otherwise be unarmed. Stored exactly in the place where it's easy to reach, even if, for some reason, your hands are tied behind your back.

[starrysharks]

hotel manager

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Can we talk about how Macaque sees what other people (LBD Peng Wukong) do and mimics them? Can we talk about how his whole thing in jttw is copying monkey king and trying to replace him and how LMK actually keeps that going but in the context of a performer? You can hear echos of the way Peng talks to Macaque in how Macaque talks to Mk during shadowplay and every other interaction before he starts to chill out. You can see and hear echos of how the Lady Bone Demon treats and speaks to Macaque in how he interacts with Mei and Mk and the rest of the crew during season 3. You can see the way he tries to mimic what he believes Wukong is until he realizes he's way off-base. You can see how he mimics Monkey King's cockiness when he needs to feign confidence. You can see the way he mimics those with power to show he has power. And when that performance ends... well, he's actually pretty chill. Look at him he's quieter and more chill, less broody, content with not being the main focal point when they're planning, he doesn't even argue with Monkey King during the season 4 finale at any point because the performance is over. i DUNNO I'M JUST THINKING AND I THINK IT'S KINDA NEAT I DUNNO IF THEY DID THAT ON PURPOSE OR IF IT'S COINCIDENCE I FEEL LIKE IT WAS ON PURPOSE IN THIS ESSAY I WILL-

[14dayswithyou]

That is all thank you

ANSWERED: Art credit for da first Ren meme goes to @meo-eiru!!

BUT HELPPPPP THESE ARE SO FUNNY JDSGJH T_T The Moth meme + Uno meme had me CACKLING lmaoooooooo

[lunarharp]

pretty & cute witch men

[mayhemspreadingguy]

[phyriaxi]

considering migrating to tumblr, so here's a recent drawing :)