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thebiggerbear · 1 day

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Close Enough - Russell Shaw x Reader

Summary: When you'd met the Shaws at the morgue the day before, you thought that had been the end of it and you wouldn't need to see one Shaw brother in particular again. Little did you know that Colter was about to once again ask for your help and not only would you be forced to see Russell again but things were about to change drastically for the both of you.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader; Russell Shaw x Female!FBI Special Agent!Reader

A/N: Sequel to So Close. I wanted to follow up and reveal what happened between Russell and the reader in the past but as I was writing it, this idea popped into my head in addition to that and I just had to see where it went. This was the end result lol. Hope it's okay.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. I still have not seen Tracker (besides 1x12) because I just haven't had the time for a proper binge yet so if I got some things wrong about Colter and his experience in the show, I apologize.

Also, I always like to throw the disclaimer out there anytime I write something related to the universe of law enforcement: I have never worked in law enforcement so I tried to piece together things I’ve seen and heard in true crime documentaries and podcasts alongside with movies/tv and books. I apologize for any inconsistencies, incorrect information, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. Basically, I made shit up.

Songs I listened to while writing: Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye; Easy Living by Loretta Lynn & Conway Twitty; Sweet Dreams by Patsy Cline; Sounds of Someday by Radio Company

Warnings: sanctioned assassination; death; gun violence; violence/blood mention; mention of dead bodies; arson; implied sex; a very, very tiny amount of smut(ish); language (I guess?)

Word Count: 16K+

Russell Taglist: @deangirl96 (I hope you don't mind me tagging you in this one; this is going to lead into the series that I mentioned)

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Your phone started to buzz and you glanced at the screen, rolling your eyes and letting out a sigh before picking up. That wasn’t the normal reaction you would have to seeing Colter’s name pop up on your phone but ever since that mess back at the morgue yesterday, you had been hoping he wouldn’t contact you again. At least not until his brother went back to whatever hole he’d crawled out of. But now it looked like that had been a fool’s hope, on both counts.

“You what?” You hissed.

“We’re about to head to this home in the Blue Ridge Mountains and go in to get Doug,” he repeated.

“I’m sorry, an incredible amount of stupid just sounded in my ear. Can you repeat that?”

“Reenie got me the location and it’s solid intel.” He lowered his voice. “Look, I thought we should get law enforcement involved, alright? But there’s a…valid reason why Russ doesn’t want to call them that I can’t get into right now.”

“Whoops, more stupid. One more time?”

Colter groaned into the phone. “Come on, Y/N.”

“I’m serious, Colter. What the hell are either of you think—wait, scratch that. What the hell are you thinking? Going into a dangerous location like that without any backup? If Carlos Solano found your missing man in a safehouse, do you think he won’t be armed to the teeth? That he won’t have guards patrolling the compound that you’re walking right into? That he won’t see something like this coming? You guys are walking right into a shitstorm.” Christ, you loved the guy like a long-lost brother that you sometimes kept in touch with but if he were in front of you right now, you would’ve delivered one good smack to the back of his head to get him thinking straight. Colter may know his way around a gun, but he wasn’t someone who had formal training or combat experience like Russell did. He didn’t even have your training and you wouldn’t be going in there kamikaze-style like they were.

“That’s why I’m calling you and asking you to meet us there. I’m not exactly calling in law enforcement but we’ll have one more person to watch our backs and help us search for Doug. And who better than a special agent with the FBI?”

You sat back in your chair, shaking your head but thinking it over. This was beyond stupid and you shouldn’t be encouraging it. Russell’s involvement in this idiot plan didn’t surprise you; Colter’s did. He knew better. But you also knew that if he thought he had a chance to get the missing guy back home safely, he was going to take it, no matter the personal risk. If you didn’t go like he asked and anything happened to him or Russell, you’d never forgive yourself.

“Please?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger, your decision made. “Send me the location and I’ll leave now to meet you.”

“Thank you.” You could hear the genuine gratitude in his tone. “I promise I’ll explain everything.”

“You better,” you nearly growled before disconnecting the call. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to tell you but for his sake, you hoped it wasn’t anything close to what you were thinking. But why else would Russell not want to call law enforcement for help in rescuing his friend who had been taken hostage by a foreign criminal? God, you hoped you were wrong.

You let out another loud sigh and before you could stand, your phone started ringing again. When you glanced at the screen, instead of a name, you saw “Blocked”. Not good.

You swiped green, holding it to your ear. “Y/L/N.”

“We have a problem,” said the voice on the other end, one you knew all too well, and it didn't sound happy. Shit.

You watched as Colter’s truck pulled up alongside your car. Colter got out and noticed you leaning against your trunk, arms crossed and a scowl in place. Russell came around from the other side.

“Either of you boys see two suicidal idiots around here? Oh, wait.”

Russell’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t my idea to call you.” He slid a glare over to his brother.

“You’re lucky he did,” you snapped. “And since I’m here,” You got to your feet and turned to open your trunk, revealing a smorgasbord of gear and weapons. “We’re going to be doing this my way.” You held out a bulletproof vest to Colter first and he immediately started to strap it on. You held one out to Russell but he shook his head and didn’t take it. You glanced over to find he had already put his own on while you’d been grabbing one for his brother.

“Okay, look,” Russell started, his eyes scanning your makeshift armory and setting your teeth on edge. “This isn’t some FBI raid of some drug gang. This guy, Carlos Solano, he’s the real deal. He’s as dangerous as they come.”

You could feel your irritation turning into anger at the suggestion that you didn’t know how serious this was, and from him of all people. “And what am I? Some part-time mall security guard? A receptionist at the Academy? I’ve dealt with cartels before and they’re as dangerous as they come, too. So take that mansplaining and shove it right up where the sun doesn't shine.”

Russell took a step closer and laid a hand on your shoulder, his eyes burning into you. “Be pissed at me all you want but I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“But you’re okay with your brother getting hurt?” You briefly glanced in Colter’s direction. The younger man was watching you two carefully as he adjusted his vest one last time, wisely choosing to stay out of this one.

Russell’s jaw clenched and he dropped his hand. “I’ve got him.”

You snorted and grabbed a gun, loading it quickly. “And I’ve got both of you. Now, we’ve got a bit of a hike so let’s cut the chit chat and get this over with, shall we?” You motioned for Colter to turn around and you inserted an extra handgun into the back of his belt. “We stick together as a unit. You hear me? No wandering off alone.”

Colter faced you again. “Yes, Mom,” he teased.

You swatted at his shoulder before checking the fit of his vest, nodding in approval.

“I have done this before, you know.”

You knew that already. You’d been there with him a couple of times for such instances. “Good for you,” you quipped. “But for kicks, how about you just humor me?”

He rolled his eyes and you smirked, turning to slam the trunk shut. You glanced up to find Russell watching you, his jaw still tight but his eyes containing a familiar light that you hadn’t seen in a while. “You good?”

“Yep.” And just like that, the light hollowed out, replaced by something far colder yet familiar, but not because you’d seen it in his gaze. You’d seen it often enough in your own when looking into the mirror.

Pushing that thought away and shifting focus, you began to lead the way into the trees. “Alright, let’s do this and get Doug home in time for breakfast.” Colter flanked you on your right while Russell came up on your left.

“Let’s rock and roll,” he agreed.

It hadn’t been as bad as you’d been expecting, even after you’d received the intel Colter had referred to on the phone. One guard and three henchmen. You were annoyed and almost insulted that they had presented so little a challenge considering Carlos Solano was supposed to be this big bad criminal. But when you glanced over and saw Colter looking over Russell’s bloody jacket sleeve, you regretted the thought and gratitude immediately filled you that things hadn’t been worse. Russell had taken a bullet to the arm and thankfully, it had passed right through.

Before you could shoot the bastard that shot him, Colter and Russell were on it. You watched in awe as the brothers moved as a single unit, almost as if they hadn’t been strained or missed a beat over the years. You supposed you should be happy that they were working together rather than still arguing over shit from a lifetime ago that had torn their family apart. For Colter’s sake at least.

Just then, you heard what sounded like a small plane outside. You hurried to a window and glanced outside, seeing a rapidly descending charter plane aiming for the tiny landing strip in the back of the property. Right on time.

You let the curtain fall and looked back at the guys. “Time to go.”

Doug’s face was ashen while Colter and Russell exchanged glances. Immediately, Russell picked up his gun and got ready to leave the room.

You rushed to stop him. “There will be none of that!”

“You guys get Doug back to the truck. I’ll handle this.”

You practically jogged around him, planting yourself in his path. “Not happening.”

He glared down at you. “Y/N, I need to close this up. Move.”

You scowled right back. “You’ve been shot.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I have to finish this.”

You refused to budge. “You are not finishing anything. You’re getting the hell out of here, that’s what you’re doing.”

“Y/N—”

“Guys, not the time,” Colter interceded. “He’s getting off that plane any second now, so what’s the plan?”

“She’s right, man,” Doug added, making both of your gazes snap over at him. “We really need to go.”

Voices suddenly sounded outside and you all glanced towards the window.

“Shit,” you muttered, quickly checking the chamber on your gun. As you were about to head out of the room, a hand grasped gently under your chin and forced your eyes to meet Russell’s. You could see the pleading there but also a stone-cold resignation. “Go with Colter and Doug,” he urged, giving you a brief but strained smile. “I need you to go.” You felt the rough skin of his thumb on your cheek as he moved it tenderly back and forth.

You knew what he was really telling you, what he planned to do, but hell if you weren’t more infuriated with him. You were so sick of the self-sacrificial bullshit. Hadn’t it cost you enough? Cost you both?

You pulled away from him, giving him a glare. “I don’t think you understand,” you said in a tone so cold you were pretty sure you could give the winds in Antarctica a run for their money. “I’m taking Solano in and I am not leaving until I have my suspect alive and in custody.” Russell looked pissed but you couldn’t care less. Better than him being dead in the next two minutes.

You turned to face Colter and Doug so they also got the message. “This case is under Federal jurisdiction now.” Colter glanced between you and his brother who you turned back to face. “I’m bringing him in. Got it?”

Russell went to say something but didn’t get the chance. The sounds of gunfire erupted right outside the room and you all had to duck for cover.

You secured your handcuffs around Carlos Solano’s wrists that had been forced behind his back once you shoved him into the chair in the room, purposely tightening the metal bracelets past the point of comfort. The man reacted, cursing you out as you smirked up at him.

Getting to your feet, you focused on the Shaws and Doug. Russell watched you with a glare while Colter waited for you to speak. Doug looked downright terrified. They had helped you to take down Solano’s men who had flown with him — all three of them. Russell aimed for Solano but at the last second, you got in his way and tackled the criminal to the ground. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy with you. Oh well. The feeling was mutual.

Colter placed his hands on his hips. “Alright, so how are we getting him back to the truck? Are we just going to drag him through the woods and hope we don’t come across anybody else he might have coming here? How are we going to work this?”

You slipped your gun back into your holster. “He doesn’t have anyone else coming here and the plan is that you three are going to head back to the truck and get out of here. I’m going to wait for a pickup,” You gestured towards the window with your thumb where the landing strip could be seen. “They’re nearby, waiting for my call, and they won’t take long to get here.” You shook your phone in your hand, indicating you were going to be using it.

Russell glanced around, as if expecting Agents to start popping up out of the woodworks at any second, before his eyes settled back on you. “So you called this in after all?”

You shrugged. “You were going into a fully armed compound to rescue a hostage, a two-man team against a crime lord on the FBI’s Most Wanted list? Yeah, of course, I did.”

He shook his head, chuckling and muttering a curse under his breath. “Of course you did,” he echoed, shooting a look over at his brother.

Colter’s gaze flickered back to you. “We’ll wait with you until they get here.”

You offered up a small smile. “I appreciate it but not necessary. I’ve got this until they get here and I do the handover.”

“But—”

“Look, you should get Doug out of here.” You inclined your head in the direction of the man who was staring dazedly at the floor. “You need to get him checked out and your brother should get his arm looked at.”

“I’m fine,” Russell interjected.

You ignored him. “I’ll be alright, Colter. Believe it or not, you tend to get experience with this kind of thing once or twice before becoming a Special Agent.” You meant it as a light-hearted reassurance but you could tell that both Shaw brothers were going to be a hard sell. At least Colter’s reasoning was up front and above board.

“I’m sure but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone. Not with him.” Colter gestured towards Solano who spit in his direction.

“I won’t be for long. But you guys need to get out of here. The Bureau can’t know you were involved in this.” You shot him a meaningful look. “For multiple reasons.”

The younger man looked as if he was going to protest again when you held up a hand. “Colter. You may not like it but you need to do as I’m telling you. If the Bureau finds any of you here…” You could tell that he didn’t care so much about himself but you let your eyes briefly flick in Russell’s direction, who was busy glaring at the man you had bound to the chair. You saw Colter’s expression immediately change and you knew you had succeeded in convincing him to vacate the area as soon as possible.

He nodded his head in assent. “Okay.” He laid a hand on Doug’s shoulder, prompting the man to look up at him, and urged him to start moving to the door.

“Okay? What do you mean okay?” Russell huffed.

Colter held up a hand. “Russell—”

“No.” Russell turned a glare on you. “Not okay. He’s a loose end that needs tying up. He knows who we are now, he came after Doug, and the FBI isn’t going to do shit with him.” You narrowed your eyes in a glare but he continued. “That’s not an insult. It’s the truth and you know it. They’re going to what? Get him to talk, to roll over on someone else he has connections to who’s higher up their food chain, and he gets off scot free? No, not happening on my watch.”

He took a step forward and so did you, in front of Solano. You drew your gun but held it loosely across your waist, your finger on the trigger, ready and waiting should you need it. Russell stopped cold, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the weapon in your hand. Colter and Doug were frozen, watching the scene unfold.

“I told you,” you said in the most deadly serious tone you could muster. “I’m taking him in, alive. If you have a problem with that, well…” You flipped the safety on the gun off. “You’ll have to go through me. And I promise you, my aim is a hell of a lot more accurate at close range than it’s ever been.”

Russell didn’t blink, he just kept scowling at you.

“Russ?” Colter called.

“Don’t make me kill you in front of him, Russell,” you murmured so only the two of you would hear. You were serious as a heart attack. No matter how you had felt about him once upon a time, this was important enough for you to make good on your threat if you needed to.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would and it will be justified by the higher ups as protection of a high-valued target before your body goes cold.” You hated saying the words but it was nothing but the truth that you spoke. You hoped he heard the message underneath your words: walk away, this isn’t worth dying over. “And he’ll be further traumatized,” you inclined your head in Colter’s direction. “Losing his brother right in front of him, just like he lost his dad.” You knew that was a severely low blow but he also needed to hear you.

As expected, Russell’s jaw clenched and you saw a twitch in the good arm he had, the one that was holding his gun. “Don’t be stupid and do that to him,” you warned. “Walk away.”

That cold look was back in his eyes again. You mentally prepared yourself for what was about to go down. You had hoped he wouldn’t force your hand but then again, Russell Shaw had always been the epitome of stubborn, usually to his own detriment…and yours.

“Russell?” Colter tried again.

“Russ, come on, man. Let it be for now,” Doug added in, trying to help. “And let’s regroup.”

This time, Russell appeared to hear them both, his gaze breaking from yours momentarily, flickering over Solano behind you, who was laughing and smirking in the former’s direction, clearly enjoying the standoff over him.

Russell’s eyes met yours again but this time, there was nothing familiar about the green you used to stare into when he’d sway with you on the dance floor to a slow song playing overhead or when you’d both wear matching sated grins and laugh, a pleasant exhaustion overtaking you as he pulled you into his arms in a motel bed. It was almost like staring into a dark void and you couldn’t help but wonder how often that void showed up during war or if the war created it — the old chicken or the egg question. Either way, you knew you’d succeeded in convincing him to leave, but you’d also have to watch yourself. There was no warmth left in those jade-colored orbs when they focused on you. You’d done your work well; you’d crossed a line that you could never go back from.

“Alright,” he capitulated, loud enough that the two men near the doorway heard him. He relaxed his arm and slipped his gun into a pocket in his vest. His face lightened a little and a strained smile worked its way across his face. He glanced back at his brother. “She’s right. We should get Doug out of here.” He turned back to face you, his smile fading. “She’s got this.” He then glanced in Solano’s direction, smirking right back. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised, giving him a finger gun and winking, before his expression became stone once more and he walked away, glaring at you as he did.

You lifted your chin, not reacting in the slightest, until Solano shouted out, “You’ll be seeing me? No, puta, I’ll be seeing you. You’ll never see it coming, you hear me? You’ll never see it co—” You spun a few degrees and pistol-whipped him, causing the jackass to cry out in pain before you turned back to face Doug and the two most important men in your life. “Get going,” you growled out, lifting your phone with your other hand as a subtle threat.

Colter gave you a nod, the concern still there in his dark brown gaze as he led Doug out the door. Russell’s eyes never left you, even when he walked out the door a moment later, following his little brother’s lead. You never looked away even when he was past the threshold.

You ignored Solano’s yelling threats and kept your eyes on the spot you had last seen the Shaws disappear through a few minutes longer than needed, tense and ready in case Russell decided to double back. Though you highly doubted he’d come at you from the same angle. A part of you was making sure you stayed prepared in case there was an ambush, yes, but another part of you knew your gaze was lingering on the spot because you knew things had now drastically changed between you and Russell forever. He would never forgive your threats and you would never forgive yourself for having to make them. Though that remorse was more related to Colter than his brother. Regardless, when it came to the Shaws now, you were fucked. Not even Dory would want to hear from you, not that she had all that much before, but now it was definitely a no go. And that saddened you tremendously.

Hearing more of Solano’s threats, you recentered your focus on the task at hand and prepared to wait, giving him one more pistol whip for good measure, before you settled in and kept both eyes and ears open for any possible ambush that might come your way before you could finish up here.

You leaned against the workstation next to the chair, waiting, gun still in hand and your eyes focused on it. You had waited a certain amount of time to allow the boys to get out of the area.

“The soldado was right, you know. They’re not going to hold me,” Solano bragged.

You briefly closed your eyes in annoyance. He had been talking ever since you were left alone with him. He had offered you money to let him go, offered you riches and power that you knew for a fact he had no business offering. He even had the nerve to propose making you one of his new lieutenants, citing your fighting skills and gun handling that he’d briefly witnessed. He knew you would be able to protect him because you had from the asesinos who had killed his brother. He then changed tactics, threatening you, your loved ones, the men who just left…now, he was boasting about how he would walk free and whatever charges were thrown at him wouldn’t stick. You just wished he would shut the hell up already. Needless to say, it had been a long twenty minutes. You now understood why his brother had been the businessman and he was only the muscle willing to do the dirty work. His bargaining skills were for shit, not that it mattered in the scheme of things. No deals were being made today.

“I offer them a little bit of money and they’ll just make the case go away. Just like that.”

You checked your watch. Twenty two minutes now. That was good enough. You slowly got to your feet and moved past him to look out the window. You had purposely moved his chair out of the sight of the glass, in case Russell got any ideas.

“That’s how it works here in America. Everybody knows that. If the criminals have money and power, they don’t stay in jail.”

You ignored him, glancing around to see if there was any movement outside. You didn’t see any.

“They won’t keep me locked up. They weren’t able to in my home country. What makes you think they’ll be able to here? Where corruption is ripe and anyone can be bought? And then I’ll be coming for you and for your friends. You will wish for death long before I am through with you.”

You made your way to another window, lifting the curtain and looking around. Still nothing.

“There’s no point in bringing me to jail. It will never hold me.”

You lowered the curtain and squared your shoulders, turning to face his direction. You focused on him, staring right into his eyes. “You know, I think you’re right.”

Solano seemed pleasantly surprised for a moment, thinking you were finally stupid enough to take one of his offers, before his eyes narrowed with realization. “No, wait—”

You quickly lifted your gun and squeezed off a round. His head snapped back from the force and the space behind him was spattered with red among other things. One glance confirmed your aim had been accurate; he was dead. Right through the eye. What you’d said to Russell earlier hadn’t been an exaggeration; you were much more accurate at close range than you’d ever been.

You slipped a pair of gloves on that you pulled from your pants pocket and immediately started unzipping the small compartments on the side of your vest where you usually kept extra ammo in a raid, pulling out small white bottles that weren’t sporting any labels. You began to squirt the liquid from inside them all around the room, dousing Solano’s body with a healthy amount.

You continued into the house, having quite a few bottles of lighter fluid to empty out in specific areas that would help achieve your goal. Arson wasn’t your preferred route but it did get rid of pesky little things like hair and DNA, and what it didn’t, it contaminated which would make it harder for not only law enforcement but the justice system to work with. Though you weren’t too worried about either looking at this particular house fire too closely.

You didn’t bother collecting any bullet casings, knowing that your gun and the ones you’d given Colter to use would be untraceable even if they somehow managed to get a hold of any of the weapons (which they wouldn’t). And Russell’s gun…you figured he had that handled. The only thing you did collect were your handcuffs.

You also didn’t bother staging anything for the scene. There was already enough evidence that pointed to the theory that Solano’s own men had turned on him and a gunfight ensued, resulting in the multiple dead bodies. While an arson specialist would most likely be able to tell that an accelerant had been used, there was no way for them to confirm just who had been present for this battle and who had gotten away. Satellite imagery would be shoddy at best due to the foliage cover (and eventual smoke) but still, you planned to set the fire and make your getaway out the back, crossing over the landing strip so if they went back to look for any heat signatures after the fire started, it would be one person leaving the scene alive, the person they would assume had started the blaze. There were no nearby neighbors to immediately call first responders but that didn’t mean smoke wouldn’t be seen from the sky from miles away or that a fiery orange blaze in the distance wouldn’t be noticed by residents of another vacation home or cars traveling the backroads in the area. Since you planned to go into the deep woods and take the long roundabout route back to your car, you weren’t too worried about your path being followed.

Once you had completed all of your tasks, you used the fireplace to help, moving the grate out of the way, starting a fire, and then knocking a fiery log onto the wooden flooring. You used a lighter to set flammable materials that you could find to add to the flames. Only when the room was nearly engulfed did you finally slip a beanie from your pocket, cover your head fully, and make your way out of the house. Once at the landing strip, you ducked under the plane, making sure you couldn’t be seen from above.

You watched as the flames consumed the house. Once the smoke was sufficient, flames were ragings out of the windows, and the sound of breaking glass could be heard, you knew it was time for you to vacate the vicinity before the sirens started up. It was fortunate that most people were asleep at this hour but the sun was due to come up not too long from now and you had a long trek ahead of you, so you needed to get moving.

You kept your head down and made your way into the woods surrounding the property line.

The sun was breaching the horizon and quickly warming the sky by the time you made it back to your car. You were relieved that Colter’s truck was gone and you needed to quickly make tracks as well. Sirens had started up an hour ago and you needed to get the hell out of Dodge before the cops were all over these roads. You tossed your weapons and vest into the trunk and got in the car. You slipped your beanie off your head, tossing it onto the seat next to you, and started the engine.

Just as you had expected, cops were everywhere but thankfully, you had timed it just right and gotten out before they could block all of the mountain roads. Once you were back in town a few hours later and a certain distance away, you pulled a phone out of your glove compartment you kept there for emergencies and turned it on. You pressed a button and it immediately dialed the number programmed — the only number you had saved on this device.

It rang once before the same voice from yesterday picked up. “Is it done?”

“We’re clear,” you confirmed. “It’s been handled.”

“Shaw?”

Your jaw clenched. You knew that despite how you and Russell had left things earlier, you would do whatever it took to keep him breathing. “He’s a soldier. He follows orders.”

“He wasn’t so willing to follow orders in this situation.”

“You know what they’re taught. Leave no man behind. He got his man so he’ll be fine. Things can go back to how they were. He’s not going to be an issue and he’s clean, just like you wanted.”

And then you were asked the one question you didn’t want to hear. “And the brother? What’s your assessment?”

The knuckles of your free hand gripped your steering wheel so tightly that you could see how white your skin turned from the pressure. “Non-issue. He has no interest in you.”

“He seemed interested yesterday.”

You forced yourself to remain calm and nonchalant. “He’s paid to be nosy when someone goes missing so he can get them found. He found who he was looking for, he was able to keep the promise to the guy’s wife — it’s over for him. The case is closed, it’s as simple as that for him. He’s no threat.”

You waited to hear a response, holding your breath and your hand gripping the wheel even tighter, your body tensed. This would be what decided your fate. Either you would be allowed to go on as before or you’d be going on a mission up against one of the top private security contractor firms in the world which wouldn’t end well for you. But you’d take out whoever you could with you before you were killed.

Another moment passed before the voice replied, “Understood.”

Your body relaxed slightly and your shoulders sunk in relief. Colter was safe. Russell was safe…for now. And you didn’t have to go all Rambo Kamikaze on anyone. Win-win all around.

“I’ll let the higher ups know the situation has been contained. Good work. We’ll be in touch.”

Without waiting for a response from you, the call disconnected. You quickly shut the phone off and tossed it back into its original spot. You let out a deep breath and the exhaustion from the past twelve hours immediately overtook your body. Deciding that returning to your place was not an option for you right now, you headed to another part of town, parked your car on the street some blocks away to the nearest motel, and using a baseball cap to cover your hair along with sunglasses, you hoofed it and then booked a room, paying cash and using a fake name. Once you set up everything you needed to in your quarters, you slipped onto the mattress and got some much needed rest, keeping your gun under your pillow within reach should you need it.

You pulled up to Colter’s trailer, watching as he stepped outside to greet you. You put your car in park, took a deep breath, and got out. You offered Colter a small smile. “Hey.”

He returned it. “Hey.”

You had been surprised when Colter called you a few days later to let you know he was still in town for a bit and invited you to drop by for a beer. Not surprised that he was still around (you already knew that) but surprised that he even wanted to speak to you. Perhaps Russell hadn’t told him what you’d threatened back in the mountains.

You took the beer he offered to you and followed him over to the firepit, taking a seat on one of the coolers. He sat nearby and held up his bottle in a toast. You mirrored him and then you both took a sip. You nearly sighed in satisfaction as the carbonated beverage slid down your throat. You enjoyed the taste and checked the label. “Mmm, home brew…not bad. You got something you want to tell me? Planning on opening some sort of brewery outfit anytime soon?” You were teasing but if Colter really was thinking of doing something else — anything else — instead of his current job, you’d fully support it.

“Not me.” Disappointment flared in your chest, your hope dashed. “Russ was actually the one who made it. I had some left over from the other night.”

The beer suddenly began to sour in your stomach. Well, you supposed it was good that Russell was starting to think of the future, the most important part of that being that there would be one. It still burned a bit, though.

You decided to change the subject so you wouldn’t have to think about that right then. “So, your guy is back home safe?”

Colter nodded. “Dropped him off myself.” Something else you already knew but you had to keep up appearances.

You nodded, biting your lip and staring into the flames. “And your brother?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Colter’s jaw tense for a moment. “Gone.” Though you had an idea that was the case, Colter’s confirmation still stung, like someone poking a finger into an old wound after ripping the scar tissue away. But what else had you expected? This was Russell Shaw you two were talking about after all.

You snorted and shook your head, taking another swig of beer. “Of course he is.”

He turned to look at you. “You know, you never told me what happened between you two.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not worth going into, trust me.”

Thankfully, Colter left it alone and he rolled with it when you brought up a different topic instead.

“So, how much longer are you here for?”

“Teddi and Velma are working on that right now actually. Hopefully, something pops up soon.” He took another sip of beer, turning to gaze at the flames as well.

“It will.” Fortunately for him and sadly for others, someone would always go missing.

“How about you? Are they sending you somewhere for a new case or are they going to let you stay local for a bit? If it’s the latter, maybe you could get a dog for that place of yours?”

You smirked and ran your thumb down the smooth glass of the brown bottle in your hand. Colter kept teasing you about the residence you maintained nearby considering you were never really there most of the time. He’d then extoll the virtues of living on the open road, not having roots put down anywhere that would grow into expectations, and the unrestrained thrill of it all. The first time you’d had that conversation, you knew then that the desire to keep moving and stay unburdened must be a male Shaw thing. Dory seemed happy where she had settled and you — you wanted a home base. Some place you could come back to where you were still able to connect to yourself again, no matter how lost at sea you might be at times, no matter how much you felt as if every single piece of you was floating away on the wind until only a monster was left standing there, staring back at you in the rearview mirror of your car.

“Right now, I have a few things I need to close up,” you lied. “Then I’ll probably get sent out in the field again to work some cases.” You hated lying to him but you had no choice. His safety came first. As much as you had hated Russell for a time, you could now appreciate the difficult position he was in. Though, he had chosen to be put there, and now, so had you.

You watched Colter nod, accepting your answer. “I still think a German Shepherd would be a great choice for you,” he teased. “You know, a big dog, trainable, would make a good guard dog. You could take it with you, chase suspects down together...”

“Oh yeah, I could see it now,” you played along. “I’d have to sneak him into hotel rooms, make sure he doesn’t take a shit on the rug… Then we’d go on the job and I could introduce him to everyone, ‘I’m Special Agent Y/L/N but you can call me Turner and this is my partner Hooch.’”

Colter winced. “No, no. You have to give him a name that will strike fear into the hearts of the criminals you track down. Like General or Commando or Killer. Killer! Now that’s a good name. That will make anyone think twice about running from a dog with that name.”

This time, you were the one who winced though you hid it well. Instead, you forced out a laugh. “I am not getting a huge dog named Killer and bringing him to work with me.”

He grinned. “That’s a shame. I would have loved to have seen the look on your face when the dog would sit in the front seat.”

“There would be no front seat sitting. Back seat only.”

“Like a criminal who he just helped you to arrest? That’s cold, even for you.”

“I am so glad that you have this imaginary dog of mine’s back.”

He snickered and took a drink, looking back at the flames. Your smile slowly faded as you did the same. You both sat there, drinking in a companionable silence for a bit.

Eventually, your eyes flickered over towards him. “I need you to promise me something.”

His brows drew together questioningly when he met your gaze.

“Horizon…” You noticed him tense slightly at the mention. “No more.” When you saw the confusion in his expression, you elaborated. “No more digging, no more Reenie asking her contacts about them, no more mention of them period. You got the guy you were looking for. Now, put it to bed and forget that you ever knew they existed.”

His confusion increased. “I did put it to bed the second I dropped Doug off at his door and saw him hug his wife.”

You gave him a look. “Col, I need you to promise me,” you softly entreated.

His brows arched slightly at the use of the nickname; you didn’t use it often and if you were, then he knew you meant business. He also knew what you were telling him without explicitly saying it; Horizon was dangerous and they were better left alone. It would be better for him to get a case of sudden amnesia about anything related to the organization.

He watched you for a moment before giving you a nod. “As long as nobody else goes missing like Doug did and as long as Russ is okay, they’re forgotten.”

You knew that was the best you were going to get from him and you leaned forward slightly. “And if anything happens to Russ, I’ll be right there with you, knocking on their front door,” you promised. And you would be; no question about it.

The corner of his lips tipped up in the beginning of a smile and after a moment, you couldn’t help but return it.

The coffee shop you were in was decently quiet considering it was around 8:55 in the morning and most people were making their last minute dashes for caffeine before the working day began. You sat near the window, facing the entrance so you could keep an eye on who came in and out. You had ordered your usual, a soy vanilla latte, and you carefully sipped at the hot liquid. You scanned your phone for the day’s headlines, looking for any updates on the mysterious house fire that started in the mountains a few nights ago.

You knew you wouldn’t find any and sure enough, you didn’t. Someone was working overtime to squash the case from up above, just like you knew they would. You also knew that some local law enforcement officials didn’t buy the criminals-turning-on-their-boss theory and they actually thought the scene looked like a professional hit. Exactly what you figured would happen when accelerants had been found to be used at the scene. As much as you were sure the cops were looking to sink their teeth into something exciting to happen in those parts in however long, the bottom line was the case would get dropped and no one was going to care what happened to a violent criminal like Carlos Solano. The FBI would actually be relieved to remove one more name from their list, one more file from their desks. One more dangerous bad guy removed from the world that threatened American citizens as well as national security. No one was going to miss the murderous bastard.

You powered down your screen and placed your phone on the table, turning to glance out the window. That was when you saw him. Well, the reflection of him.

You watched as he walked towards you, still dressed in a ratty pair of jeans and old boots, wearing another t-shirt with a different musician on it while sporting an open button-up over it, and donning that old military style jacket. His eyes were intent on you and you had to wonder how he had gotten in without you seeing him. The answer was in the reflection of someone walking past him to get to the bathrooms in the rear of the cafe. There was no exit located near there, you knew that because this was a local spot of yours, so how did he… Shit.

Even though you watched him in the glass and he watched you back, you didn’t give anything away to alert him that you knew he was there. You started calculating in your head how many people stood in between you and the front door (your only exit at this point), how much force you would have to use to catch him off guard and knock him to the ground so you could make your escape, and how fast you would have to run to your car. You even had a moment to debate drawing your gun and your badge, and making a scene to get yourself out of this mess. But all of that proved to be for naught when he came to a stop near you and announced his presence by asking, “This seat taken?”

You slowly turned to face him, arching an inquisitive brow, but you eventually shook your head. His lips twitched into the beginning of a smirk and he took the seat across from you. His eyes were a lot lighter than they were the other day as they took you in. “Looking good, Y/N. Like always.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Really?”

He shrugged and reached for your coffee, taking the lid off. You hated it when he did this, the whole sharing coffee thing; now you would need to order another one…well, depending on how this impromptu meeting went. “What, I can’t tell my girl that she looks good?” He took a sip and made a face. “How do you still drink this crap? It tastes like foam mixed with shit.”

“And free garbage coffee from the lobby of the latest scuzzy motel you’re staying in doesn’t?”

“Hey, don’t knock it. They have real nice machines now and it tastes the way coffee should. Not like this bullshit.”

You watched as he grabbed a spoon, added some sugar, and began stirring the crap out of what had once been your perfect latte. You thought over what he’d said before. “I’m not your girl, Russell.” His eyes met yours. “I haven’t been for some time now.”

He finished stirring and removed the spoon, lifting the glass to take a sip. “You’ll always be my girl.”

You snorted and lifted a finger in the air to signal to the barista that you wanted another coffee. The kid gave you a nod and turned to make it. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re hooking up with cheerleaders-turned-dental-hygienists in hot tubs?”

Russell pressed his lips together and looked appropriately chastised, not even bothering to deny it. “Colter told you. I should’ve known he would mention it. You two were always close like that.”

You didn’t confirm or deny that. There was no point in mentioning that Colter hadn’t been the one to tell you, not intentionally anyway. Instead, you leaned forward in your chair. “What do you want, Russell?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” You snapped. You had been on edge, thinking he was here to either kill you or threaten you. Then him hitting on you and making that asinine and incredibly presumptuous statement bothered you more than you cared to admit. Not to mention he pissed you off when he took the latte you’d decided to treat yourself with after a few difficult days (without even asking you might add), knowing how that had irked you anytime he did it when you were dating. It was like the man was begging you to put a foot in his ass.

Russell glanced around briefly before removing something from inside his jacket. It was a folded up newspaper and he slapped it down in front of you. A picture of a burnt out structure stared back up at you with the headline reading above it “House Fire Claims 8 Lives, Sheriff Confirms Arson”. Your eyes met his and in that moment, you knew that he knew.

You refused to give it away just like that, though. If he wanted the truth, he’d have to work for it. He wasn’t getting anything for free, not from you, not anymore. You gave him a smirk. “Is this your way of telling me that you’ve finally learned to read, Russ? I’m impressed, really.”

Instead of being insulted, his eyes widened slightly. “You called me Russ.”

You sat back in your chair, pushing the newspaper away from you and prying eyes, waiting for the barista making his way over to you to deliver your coffee. “Slip of the tongue. Won’t happen again.” You smiled at the young kid in thanks when he placed the drink down in front of you and promptly slid your glass out of Russell’s reach. He saw it and immediately worked to smother a smile as the kid walked away.

“So, you got any more interesting tricks I should know about?”

Without any preamble, Russell said, “Solano’s dead,” the exact second you took a sip of your new coffee. If he was expecting any reaction to the news, he was in for disappointment when you didn’t give it.

“Yes, I heard. Quite unfortunate.”

“They’re all dead actually. Even that guard we subdued in the beginning.”

You remembered; you’d been the one to kill him after all. Once Russell and Colter got to their feet after knocking the guard out and started moving towards the house, you quietly pulled a knife and slipped the blade into the side of the man’s head. You’d cut his zip ties, removed them and the gag, and then caught up to the guys — all within seconds. You had made sure to move the guard’s body inside later, right before you’d started the fire, trying your best to get rid of any drag marks you’d left on the ground. You were there to clean up the mess, not leave witnesses, even if they had never seen any of you coming.

You nodded. “I know, I heard that, too. Is there a point here somewhere or can I get back to the nice morning I was having before you showed up to steal my coffee?”

Russell was the one to lean forward this time, lowering his voice even further. “You said you were calling in the FBI for a pickup. Who did you really call?”

You could tell he was trying to give you an out, an opportunity to explain that it wasn’t what he was thinking, and maybe you should have lied your ass off…but you no longer wanted to. You knew Russell; he wasn’t going to let this go until he had an answer that he deemed to be the truth. And while you could give him a distorted version of that truth that didn’t land at your feet, a petty part of you wanted him to know.

“Y/N?” He pressed. “Who did you call?”

You sat back in your chair, considering him for a moment before you spoke. “No one.”

Russell dropped his head, briefly closing his eyes. “Fuck, I was afraid of that.” He glanced up at you, his eyes full of a sadness you hadn’t seen in some time. You knew he wouldn’t be happy if he ever found out the truth, but not to this extent. “I told you to walk away and let me handle it.” His voice was softer, not as gruff as before. You realized then that you’d accomplished what that vindictive side of you had wanted all along, ever since the day he walked away; you’d hurt him and caused him pain. Pain that you could see clear as day lining his face right now. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. And quite frankly, that pain caught you off guard. After all of this time, this is what it took for him to feel even a sliver of what you’d felt back in the day when he’d left you bleeding, your heart torn from your chest and sitting in pieces on the floor he’d just casually walked over to get to the door?

Not really sure what to make of this development or the emotions it caused to rise up within you, you went into pure professional mode and forged ahead. “The three of you didn’t need to be involved.” You could see the pain getting worse and it made you uncomfortable, something prodding at your chest and itching at your skin that you really didn’t care for. “Besides, last I checked, I don’t take orders from you, Shaw.” You threw his last name in there as a last resort to put even more distance there between you.

His eyes flicked from the newspaper to you. “Who do you take orders from then? Something tells me this wasn’t FBI-sanctioned.”

You surreptitiously glanced around you before leaning in, lowering your voice.“You know, going to your handler’s house during her kid’s birthday party was a pretty bad idea. Ann really didn’t like that.” You watched as Russell’s eyes widened slightly before his face fell, a dreaded realization filling his expression. He had never mentioned her name to you before and he knew Colter hadn’t mentioned her to you either when giving you the rundown of what they knew before meeting up in the mountains. You sat back, tensed and ready for whatever came next.

His jaw clenched. “How long?” He ground out.

“Long enough.”

You kept your gaze trained on his and you did your best to read him, trying to assess what he might do, now that the pain was all but absent since your revelation. Would he tell you to watch your back and leave? Would he tell you to stay away from Colter for good? It was hard to gauge from the way he was staring at you right then. You could see anger bubbling underneath but you also caught something coming to the surface that strangely looked like remorse. Considering you hadn’t seen that emotion on him too often, it was tough to be sure in your identification of it. And then something flickered in his eyes right then, something so fast you almost didn’t catch it, but you did. Fear that quickly dissolved into determination. You braced yourself for whatever he would say or do; this was it. This would determine your next steps.

Instead, he surprised you once more. He snatched the newspaper up and slipped it back into his jacket, before reaching over and taking your hand in his. “I’m getting you out of here. Now. Let’s go.”

Stunned, you wordlessly got to your feet but then it hit you, you were about to go somewhere alone with him. Not that you couldn’t handle yourself but he had still been Special Ops once upon a time and he killed people for a living…just like you.

“Russell, I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he growled. “I’m getting you as far from here as I can. I’ve got a buddy who has a cabin in upstate New York. It’s got months-long supplies, power and running water, and a small armory. You’ll be safe there until this whole thing blows over.”

You yanked your hand out of his and grabbed your phone and jacket. “I’m plenty safe here. I have no reason to run, so I’m staying. You want to leave? Go right ahead. We both know it’s what you’re best at.” The sadness was back but you looked away from it. Yes, that had been another low blow but it was also well-deserved. You moved past him, refusing to look over your shoulder even once. There was no way he’d do anything out in the open; he wouldn’t dare risk it, especially now.

You slipped into your car, not surprised in the least when Russell got in on the other side before you could even think about locking the doors.

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“What’s it look like?” He clicked his seatbelt. “I’m staying with you until you agree to my plan to get you someplace safe or you explain how the hell this even happened.” He pulled out the newspaper, holding it up for a moment before tossing it to the floor. You could see the determined set to his jaw and you knew he meant it.

“Russell,” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I do not have time for this.” You blew out a quiet breath and turned to face him. “Now I suggest you get out of my car or—”

“You’ll shoot me?” He shot you a look. Yeah, he was still pissed about the threats you’d made a few nights ago. You supposed you couldn’t blame him but you did what you had to do to get him and his brother out of there. You had regrets but they were slim. “We both know you won’t.”

That infuriated you and had you seething. “You think I won’t?”

“I know you won’t. Just like I know that no matter how much you tell yourself that you hate me, you really don’t.”

You scoffed out a laugh in disbelief. “Wow, you really are incredibly delusi—”

“I also know you would never do that to my brother.” Your glare in his direction intensified. “You’ve always been protective of him. Just like me.” A glimmer of a fond smile worked its way onto his bearded face.

Your jaw clenched and you looked away from him, back towards the coffee shop you had just stormed out of, your grip tightening on your steering wheel. It was true; you’d always looked out for Colter in some way ever since you’d gotten to know him through Russell.

While the relationship between the brothers had been strained for years, it didn’t mean that there hadn’t been a couple of times where Dory hadn’t attempted to get them into a room together to try to fix what had been broken. In one such instance, Russell had brought you along, after shocking you by asking you two nights before to accompany him. The man had spent over a decade in the military, worked Special Ops, and there wasn’t much he was afraid of, if at all. But when you were wrapping leftovers to throw into the fridge and he’d laid a hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him, you’d never seen Russell Shaw look so worried, vulnerable, and damn near terrified in all of the time you’d known him. You’d even felt it when he’d enfolded you into his arms and whispered into your ear that he was due to meet up with his family in the next two days, asking you to come with him. How could you say no to that? You knew of the family’s tragic history and the simmering tensions that still existed between the Shaws who were still alive; Russell had told you everything, even about how his mom had hung him out to dry (though he made excuses for her which made you grind your teeth). And for him to ask you to go, to meet his family, you knew then just how important this was for him. So you went, squeezed his hand in silent support whenever he appeared to need it, and did your best to provide distraction whenever things got a little too tense or heated. Dory didn’t care for you too much; you got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t happy Russell had brought an interloper to a family-only discussion. But Colter…Colter you got along with from the start.

Colter seemed happier to talk to you than his brother and you could tell that bothered Russell tremendously. He had told you once how much he missed his siblings at times, especially his little brother, and he would never stop hoping to patch things up with them one day. Sure enough, he tried to interject into the conversation a few times with you helping as much as you could, but each time Colter shut him down. It was blatantly obvious that the younger man wanted nothing to do with him and there was definitely some resentment still floating around after years of estrangement. Needless to say, things hadn’t ended well at that dinner and you weren’t surprised that Russell drank a little heavier that night. Nor were you surprised when he grasped at you in the hotel room and pulled you to him, his lips claiming yours as he began unbuttoning your shirt and moving you towards the bed. You knew he was hurting and you let him take solace in you as you whispered loving assurances in his ear.

After that, Colter surprised you by calling you a couple of months down the road, apologetically asking for your help on a case he had picked up. Though he didn’t know you well, he was in a rough spot and needed a helping hand, particularly a Federal one. You saw the opportunity for what it had been, an opening of a possible door between him and Russell, so you took it. You helped Colter as much as you could without risking being read the riot act by your superior, and you two got to know each other better as you worked together. It happened a few more times and you had even called Colter in to assist on a case of your own that you had snagged. You had gone for beers afterwards each time and you’d tried your best to talk to him, to convince him to give Russell a chance. He hadn’t been interested, was resistant to it even, but he liked you and he was starting to trust you a little more each time. He’d even reluctantly admitted once that he was glad his brother had you, immediately following up with “He better be treating you right, though.” You had simply smiled and assured him that Russell very much was.

You didn’t mention the odd absences a few times a month (sometimes with little to no warning), the radio silence during these stints, and the avoidance of any penetrating questions upon his return — all of it that had become conditional to your relationship by that point. And Russell certainly wasn’t happy at all to find out you’d been working with Colter once you told him. You both had arguments before like any common couple but nothing like this. You had never seen him so angry and he’d laughed when you told him he had no need to be jealous if that was what he was worried about, you loved him and you were trying to make things better for the both of them, to pave the way for him to be able to make peace with his brother.

“You just don’t get it.”

He had shaken his head and glared over at you before he walked out of the room, away from you. From then on, Russell became even more secretive, distant, and cold as ice. Gone was the easy affection, heart to heart talks, and playful banter between you. Gone were the tender touches, gentle kisses, and passionate sex. The love of your life turned into a stranger right before your very eyes. It hadn’t been too long after that when he’d left for good, leaving your heart shattered on your hardwood floor. As time passed, you were surprised he hadn’t just packed up and left in the middle of the night while you were sleeping, without a single word to you and completely ghosting you, since he had been intent on leaving you in his past. It might have been kinder actually compared to the things he’d said to you as a final goodbye before walking away for good.

So whenever you had dared to think back on it over the last few years, you’d always figured the fight over Colter had contributed in some way to the rapid unraveling of your relationship. Well, that fight and…other things.

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk,” Russell urged, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Come on, Y/N, you owe me that at least.”

You turned the most menacing glare on him that was possible for you to give someone. “I don’t owe you shit,” you bit out. How dare he say that? To you of all people?

His jaw tightened and after a moment, he agreed with a soft nod. “Fair enough.”

You broke away from his intent gaze a minute later, your decision made as you turned the car on. “You know what? If this will get you out of my life for good this time, then fine. Let’s talk. And don’t be so sure I won’t shoot you afterwards should you continue to piss me off. You’re right, I do care about Colter,” You scowled over at him. “But not that deeply.”

Russell matched your scowl but wisely kept quiet as you backed your car out of your parking spot. You felt an immediate surge of guilt for having said that about his younger brother. You did care about Colter, more than you would ever admit to anyone, even your ex. There was nothing remotely romantic between you two; there never had been and there never would be. But Russell had been right; you were protective of him. Not only because he was a good man but he also reminded you of someone you had lost long ago. You would bend over backwards to keep him safe (as safe as you could given his chosen career), even if it meant putting yourself in harm’s way. He had truly become like a brother to you.

But you had also meant what you said just now. If Russell continued to irritate you, there was no way he was leaving this time without you putting a bullet in him. Right in his ass before the door could hit it when he turned his back on you for the last time. That or a good old fashioned ass kicking in the form of your right hook. After everything he’d done, he deserved nothing less.

You pulled up to a local motel that you had booked a room at the last few days, in case you needed to close up shop and haul ass out of town quickly. It wasn’t the same establishment you had gone to the morning of the fire and you still had your place thirty minutes away, but you had learned it was always best to prepare for any eventuality. Especially after a job needing to be done so close to home. You had seen what happened with Doug; who was to say Horizon wouldn’t leave you out to dry, too, should the heat from the fire get a little too close?

You got out and headed over to the door, unlocking it and stepping inside, not looking back to see if Russell was following you. Neither of you had spoken on the ride over (which was probably for the best) and you didn’t glance at him once. Instead, you had done your damndest to tamp down the fury you felt racing through your veins as more and more memories played out in your mind. Now that Russell had a vague idea of the truth of what you had been doing all of this time, everything you had ever wanted to say to him seemed to be trying to rush to the surface as well as all of the pain you had endured.

You slipped your suit jacket off and tossed it onto the bedspread. You heard the door shut behind you and you spun around, seeing Russell’s eyes scanning the room, stopping on the bed, and then lifting to you. You scoffed and unbuttoned the sleeves of your blouse, rolling them up to your forearms. “Not happening so don’t even think about it,” you hissed.

“Wasn’t going there.”

You didn’t believe him. “Right.” You took a seat at the table and impatiently gestured to the seat across from you. “Well?”

He sat down and without missing a beat, dove right in. “How the hell did this even happen, Y/N?”

“Really? That’s what you’re starting out with?”

Russell shot you a look.

You let out an aggravated sigh and sat back in your chair, crossing your legs and getting comfortable. “I was recruited, not too long after you left.”

His jaw dropped. “They approached you?”

Nodding, your jaw tightened thinking back to that time. It wasn’t a memory you liked revisiting. You were at your lowest, Russell having just walked out like the four and a half years you’d spent together hadn’t meant a damn thing to him. He had been it for you. You had put everything you had into the relationship, which proved to be a difficult balancing act sometimes between your career at the Bureau and Russell’s job that he wouldn’t tell you too much about. You both had overcome so much together…all for him to tell you that he simply didn’t love you anymore, give you a shitty apology, and walk right out the door years later. Like you had simply been an amusing distraction, nothing more. Like you had merely been a stopping point in his journey and now he was bored and moving on. The breakup would’ve hurt regardless but the cold detached manner he’d spoken to you with caused more pain than you would have ever been willing to admit. It was a good thing you had already become a Special Agent by then, not stuck to any one location or field office, given how often you were hungover for some weeks there. You had attempted to track him down (which hadn’t been easy) to try to talk to him, to make him see reason; you didn’t believe that he had stopped loving you just like that. But when you had finally located him, he had been holed up in a dingy motel, similar to this one, but he wasn’t alone. That had hurt beyond words and it had taken everything for you not to say anything, not to let him see you, and turn back around, heading home with your tail between your legs and your head hanging in heartbroken defeat.

None of it made sense to you. How had your life changed so drastically in a single day? Perhaps you had never really known Russell Shaw. Perhaps you only saw what he wanted you to see. But when you replayed the last few weeks of your relationship, even the fight over Colter, something still wasn’t jiving. So you buried yourself in work during the day and as deep into the bottle as you could during the late nights. Until they showed up.

“And you said yes?” He asked in disbelief.

Your eyes flicked to Russell, narrowing. “Why not? You did.”

He pressed his lips together. You had him there and he knew it. “That was different.”

“How?” You snapped. “Exactly how is that different, Russell?”

“I joined them long before you and I met.” Yeah, you knew that now. You knew everything he hadn’t told you the time you’d been together, minus the actual details of the off the books missions he went on. You now knew why Doug had never told Tracy anything either. Not only were they not allowed to, but It was safer that way.

“Well, bully for you, Shaw. You’ve got a few years on me at being a black ops agent and you’ve racked up a few more bodies than I have. Told way more lies, too. Congrats. Do we get you a cake or…?”

He leaned forward, covering your hand with his. “Stop. Just…talk to me,” he pleaded gently.

You hated it when he did that because you hated that it still affected you on some deep level. You rolled your eyes and moved your hand from underneath his, placing it in your lap. “They approached me about six months out from when you left.”

“Who approached you?”

Yeah, you weren’t giving him that. If you did, you knew he’d be on their doorstep in a second and that you couldn’t have. Not after you had just cleaned up the Solano mess and smoothed things over. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” You knew that, could see it in his expression, but too bad. You both were in it now, had signed NDA’s, and details like that were meant to stay confidential anyway.

“Someone did and that’s all you're getting.” You gave him a meaningful look. “Regardless, they offered me a job and I took it.”

You watched as Russell’s features tightened. “And the FBI thing?”

“Still active, though I’m now kept more as an ear to the ground, providing information and cleanup when need be.” You noticed a slight wince cross across his face. “They’re the ones I answer to and they’ve chosen to keep me there for the time being. I’m more effective in that setup.” Those words from your handler still burned you but over time, you had been able to adapt and utilize their refusal to fully bring you in to your advantage.

“And Solano and his men? Were they cleanup?”

You didn’t break away from his penetrating gaze and gave it to him straight. “You and Doug made quite a mess of things. So, yes, I was called in to clean it up.” He briefly closed his eyes in the same pain you had seen earlier, though you couldn’t fathom why. It had been nearly three years since he’d last professed to give a shit about you. Why would this even affect him? “Horizon wanted you kept clean and Doug was on his own. Then you idiotically showed up at Ann’s residence, not only tipping them off to the fact that you were sniffing around where you shouldn’t have been but then you allowed Colter to threaten them. You had to know that was going to ruffle quite a few feathers and put a target on your backs.”

His jaw clenched again and that dark void was back in his gaze. His fingers twitched near his phone and you knew he was itching to call his brother to check on him. “And they sent you to clean that up, too?”

You slowly shook your head. “No.” If they had, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Most likely, you’d be dead while Colter and Russell would hopefully be on the run or have gone into hiding. “Only to assess what threats you both posed to the organization.”

“And what was your assessment?” He watched you carefully. In this moment, you weren’t former lovers. You were two people with lethal skills and training, willing to do whatever it took to keep your loved ones safe, even from each other.

You never broke away from his gaze, watching him back just as carefully. “What do you think?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, looking pensive and most likely turning your words over in his mind. You weren’t going to say it but knowing that gnawing feeling of constantly worrying about someone you cared deeply about, you wanted to make sure you both were on the same page of this topic. “And, Russell, if they had sent me for that, I never would.” His gaze immediately met yours. “Ever,” you promised.

His eyes roamed over your face, most likely assessing if you were bullshitting him or telling the truth. Obviously having decided on the latter, after a minute or so, he gave you a nod. “How do you know they accepted your assessment, though? There’s no way they don’t know about you and Colter, you and me…”

This time, your jaw was the one clenching. Yeah, you were made aware of that fact when you had been approached for recruitment. That was how they knew about you, your career as a Federal agent, and how you had been involved with Russell once upon a time. When you found out more about Horizon from the inside, it didn’t surprise you one bit how deeply they dove into the background of their candidates or the amount of information they gathered on them. You’d even helped put together a few files yourself, without fully knowing what unit the candidates were being considered for of course. They kept a close watch on their assets and that was putting it lightly.

So when you got involved with Russell, completely oblivious to what you were really getting into, Horizon had already scoped you out as well as Colter, Dory, their mother, Bobby, Reenie, Teddi, Velma — everyone. Even Colter’s on-again/off-again, Billie, and the mysterious circumstances of the death of the boys’ father. They knew it all. Horizon didn’t like surprises and you supposed you couldn’t blame them considering their line of work, but it also meant that you and everyone you cared about needed to be extra careful.

It was one of the many reasons you couldn’t completely forgive Russell, though you now understood why he’d walked out when he did. Things had unraveled so badly between you that you’d started quietly digging into Horizon, not trusting what Russell had told you prior. Back then, you thought you’d find only what Russell had claimed: private security, perhaps a couple of Special Ops situations where an American hostage was retrieved in another country, or worse: he was lying to you and having an affair. Now, you knew he had told you the truth — a very scrubbed, limited version of the truth that omitted most of what he really did for the outfit. You remembered what he’d told you about a week and a half before he left.

“You need to stop digging.”

You looked upon him with confusion. One minute, you had been having a very tense and silent dinner where you could only hear forks scraping against the plates every so often, and the next, Russell was glaring over at you, speaking cryptically. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You need to stop looking into Horizon and leave it alone. I mean it, Y/N. Let it be.” His eyes bored into you with warning before he got up from the table and took his plate into the kitchen, leaving you to finish your meal alone.

Normally, you wouldn’t have listened, determined to get to the bottom of Russell’s mysterious employer, but considering how your relationship was hanging by a thread at that point, you did. Despite the warning bells going off in your head, you did as exactly as he said: you let it be.

You suddenly remembered Russell’s question to you. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

Russell affected a slow nod, thinking it over. “And Colter?”

“I told them he’s no threat,” you murmured. “I talked to him, told him to forget they exist. He agreed as long as you were safe.”

For the first time since this conversation started, you could see Russell start to relax a bit, relief saturating his features. Even a small smile started to light up the tension in his face. While you could understand the feeling, share it even, something about it had you on your feet, walking over to the small refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water from the six pack you had tossed in there when you booked the room. You held one up in an offer but Russell shook his head.

“I’m good.”

You shrugged, unsurprised, and twisted off the cap, taking a drink. It made sense that he was still being cautious. Before you knew it, though, he was standing in front of you, that pleading yet determined look in his eyes again.

“I want to get you out.”

You snorted. “There is no getting out, Russell. Not for me, anyway. Not until they’re done with me.”

He took a step closer and gently took the water bottle from you, placing it on the counter, and grasped your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “There’s always an exit strategy,” he murmured. “I never wanted this for you, Y/N. I only ever wanted to keep you safe. That’s why I left.”

Yeah, you knew that now, too. “I know that now. Why you wouldn’t tell me certain things about your job, but, Jesus, Russell. Did you really think they didn’t already know about me and who I was to you? Colter even? Dory? Your mom?”

He let out a deep sigh and hung his head, letting your chin go. “I know. I… It was a good fit for me at the time, the money was good — that’s why I hooked Doug up with them. But seeing how they hung him out to dry at the first opportunity and now you,” He tenderly ran his thumb along your cheek. “I’m seriously starting to rethink that decision.”

You pulled away from him. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t unring that bell.” You made your way back over to the bed and yanked your duffel bag from underneath it. You unzipped it and began rooting through it to make sure you had everything you needed for a quick getaway. You didn’t think you needed to go anywhere but now this location was blown for you since you had made the decision to let Russell know about it. You had already triple checked your stash when you left it here upon check-in but you needed something to focus on instead of the clear regret in Russell’s face. “And as for me, I made my decision.” You pulled out a gun from a secret compartment, checked the clip to make sure it was full, and slipped it back inside. “I’m good with it. I’ve used it fully to my advantage and I make good money, more than I was ever going to make at the Bureau, even if they fast-tracked me to Deputy Director. Solano was on our Most Wanted List for twenty six days and I took him out in one. Had he possibly gone free, there’s no telling what he would have done, who he would have hurt besides Doug.” You knew exactly what he would have done and who he would have hurt; he’d told you in explicit detail. You didn’t go into it but Russell wasn’t stupid (not when it came to things like this anyway). He most likely knew as well. He’d wanted to close up Solano as a loose end himself after all. “That kind of cleanup I can more than live with.”

Russell carefully approached, his eyes on the second gun you had pulled out and were checking. “I get that and I more than appreciate what you did with Solano. For Doug, for Colter and me.” Once you slipped the weapon back into its pocket, he laid a hand on your shoulder, prompting you to look over at him. “You can’t tell me, though, that this is what you want for your endgame. Not really.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t have an endgame, Russell. Maybe I did once but you took that the second you walked out the door, acting like everything we’d gone through meant nothing to you, like I meant nothing to you.”

There was that remorse again and you despised it. “I’m sorry, I…handled that badly,” he admitted.

“Handled it badly?” You laughed in disbelief. You shirked his hand off of you and moved to the night table, yanking the drawer open to rip out the bible sitting in there. You opened it to the area you had cut out to hold emergency cash and cards, just like Russell had taught you once upon a time. “You told me I’d been nothing to you but a fling for the past four years, that you might have loved me once but you didn’t anymore. That I was…how did you put it? A fun distraction.” You slammed the bible shut and tossed it back into the drawer before closing it. You hurried back over to the bag, throwing the funds inside another secret compartment, more than done with this conversation.

“You’re right, I fucked up. I only said those things to—”

“Cut the cord, yeah, I know. Still doesn’t make it right,” you muttered, roughly zipping the duffel back up.

“I wanted you to be safe. You were digging into them, even after I told you not to! And worse, you were pulling Colter into it!”

That quickly got your attention and you spun on your heel, jabbing a finger in the air at him. “Don’t you fucking dare lay Colter at my feet. Especially after what you just pulled last week. It wasn’t me hauling him into Doug’s case! Not to mention, way before you met me, the minute you took that job, you put everyone you knew on their radar and you know it! So don’t you fucking dare. I have been doing everything I can to make sure Colter is safe and doesn’t pull their attention, poring over every case he takes in the background to ensure they’re not involved or have any vested interests that are. Hell, I even just used a contact of mine to float a case over to Teddi and Velma to get him out of town and far away from here to continue keeping him safe. Me, Russell! Me! And what did you do to keep him safe? You blow back into town and not only put him even more on their radar, you deliver him right to their goddamn doorstep! So don’t you dare even try to put that on me,” you finished in a snarl.

Shame lurked at the corners of his eyes and you scoffed in disgust, whirling around to grab your jacket from the bed before picking up the duffel bag and slinging the handle over your shoulder. “So glad we had this talk,” you sniped. “Now go have fun with the cheerleading dental hygienist or Reenie,” You could see more shame looking back at you. Unlike the hot tub conquest, Colter had actually told you about that one. You could tell how much it was bothering him and you knew he wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise, knowing it wasn’t something you really wanted to hear. “Or that bartender you holed up with three weeks after you walked out on me,” Now you could see surprise; you could care less. “Or whoever you want. But me? I’m done. Have a nice life, Russell Shaw, and try not to get killed before you get out to start your little brewery operation. Oh, and try to manage not to get your brother or me killed in the process, yeah? Thanks ever so much. See ya.”

You were walking towards the door when you were grabbed and whipped around. Before you could react, Russell was on you, his mouth covering yours and his hands gripping your face. “I love you,” he breathed against your lips after breaking away to let you catch your breath. “I’m sorry I said what I did back then but it wasn’t the truth. It took everything I had to walk away but as long as you were safe, that was all that mattered to me. I fucked up and I am sorry. I never stopped loving you, Y/N. Not ever.”

He wiped at your cheeks and you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying. Shit. Well, that was embarrassing. Even more embarrassing was how much you wanted to believe him. You knew he was telling the truth about why he walked away, how he wanted to keep you safe, but it obviously hadn’t been as difficult for him to move on as it had been for you. “No, you don’t,” you choked out. “If that were true, you would have never walked out that door.” Your voice wobbled on those last few words and you hated it, hated how vulnerable you were being to him right now.

You wiped at your own cheeks and turned around, ignoring the pleading you saw once again in his eyes.

“Y/N, please,” he ground out.

You kept moving towards the door. As you laid your hand on the door handle to turn it, you were whipped around one more time and he was kissing you yet again, your back pressed up against the wood. Except this time, you finally threw in the towel and gave in to what your damaged heart had been wanting all of this time. You buried your fingers in his hair and kissed him back just as passionately, not caring that more tears rolled down your cheeks as you did. He yanked the duffel bag from you and let it fall into a heap on the floor before lifting you up and turning to carry you over to the bed. You knew this was going to hurt like hell later but you refused to put a stop to it. You’d find a way to numb the pain when it ripped you open a second time, just like you always had.

The only thought running through your mind as he laid you down and ripped your blouse open, sending buttons flying everywhere, was that you had been right. You knew the bastard had been lying earlier when you’d caught him looking between you and the bed. But right then as he lifted away from you to quickly shed his top layers and then dove back down to kiss you again and melt into you, your fingers greedily relearning every inch of his bare skin, you couldn’t care less.

You reached your hand over, tenderly running a finger along the edges of the bandage on Russell’s arm. “Does it hurt?” You murmured.

“A little.” He turned his head to smile down at you. “More than worth it, though.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his chuckle at you gently pushing his head away, and turned onto your back. Russell embraced you with his other arm, pulling you into him. You rested your ear against his bare chest, hearing his steady heartbeat and settling your gaze on the ceiling above you. He pressed a kiss to your head, letting his lips linger against your hair, as his thumb rubbed your shoulder back and forth.

After a few minutes of content silence between you, you put voice to the question resounding in your mind. “How did we get here, Russell?”

“Well, you drove us over and then we—”

You softly swatted his chest, making him laugh and hearing the sound reverberate underneath your ear. “You know what I mean.”

“I wish I knew the best way to answer that, “ he whispered to you. You could hear the genuine regret in his tone and it made you start thinking about when you both would have to leave this motel room, and go back to the separate lives you had been living. Memories of lazy mornings like this back when you had been together, of you listening to his voice in your ear and knowing you were safe and loved, replayed in your mind on a loop. You would never admit it to him but you missed this, missed him. Nothing had felt right in the last couple of years like this moment here did. If anything, all of that time felt like some weird drug-induced nightmare, and you had just woken up to find Russell here next to you, nothing having changed. But that wasn’t true; everything had changed.

Not wanting to think about that just yet, you picked up the hand that had been caressing your shoulder and studied the skin of his wrist. “This is new.” You trailed your finger along the design of the tattoo sitting there. “What prompted you to get this one?”

“That’s something Doug and I got one night when we met up with another one of the guys from our unit when he was in town. Tommy Laird. Good man.”

“A crown?”

Russell shrugged underneath you. “Tommy picked the design.”

“‘We three kings’, huh?”

You heard him chuckle. “Never thought of it like that but sure.”

“Is he also a part of Horizon?”

You felt him tense underneath you at the mention of the dark and deadly elephant in the room. “No. He, uh, he lives with his wife and three kids in North Carolina. They have a house in Cary and he went back to the family business when he got home.”

You nodded and pulled his wrist to you, placing your lips on his skin and tenderly kissing the middle of the design before letting him go. He hugged you closer to him and placed a kiss to your ear in turn, letting out what sounded like a contented sigh.

A moment later, he murmured. “I want to help get you out.”

You nearly rolled your eyes again. You wanted to ask him why he was dead set on thinking that you even wanted out. Perhaps the you he had known would want a way out, want something more out of life than money and secrets and cleanups, but you had changed a lot in the last three years. But you knew if you posed that question, it would shatter the cocoon you currently found yourselves in and you weren’t ready for that to end just yet. So instead, you reminded him of another angle of the truth. “That’s not possible. Not the way you’re thinking. You know that.”

“Anything’s possible.” You nearly smiled at his response; there was the stubborn streak that sometimes infuriated you and sometimes endeared you to him, like right now. But you needed to make sure you maintained a reality check for the both of you. You knew what he was really thinking.

“Even if it was, we can’t.”

His head lifted and he frowned down at you. “Why not?”

“This isn’t some Mr. and Mrs. Smith shit. We don’t get a happy ending,” you finished sadly, thinking back to the life you once shared together as you cupped his cheek and rubbed it gently with your thumb. “Not together. It’s too dangerous.” You left it at that but you knew that he was more than aware of what you meant.

His frown intensified at your words and he covered your hand with his, turning to place a kiss into your palm. “We’ll work it out.”

“Russ,” you sighed.

He gently grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, looking into your eyes. “We’ll work it out,” he softly repeated, that glint of determination back in his gaze.

You decided once more that you wouldn’t bother launching into the many reasons it actually wouldn’t work out and you would refrain from popping that bubble he had just wrapped you both in. That moment would come later. But for now, you continued to keep silent.

When he noticed you weren’t going to say anything, a mischievous smile began to form on that handsome face you loved. “You know, I don’t really have anything planned for today. How about you?”

Other than some paperwork you had to go over later, your day was pretty much free, too. Even if it hadn’t been, you knew that look and after this morning, despite still having some unresolved anger with him, despite things that still needed to be said between you, you would have freed up your schedule immediately. “I don’t think I’ll be missed for a while,” you teased.

He leaned in to kiss you, whispering to your lips, “Oh, you were missed. Very much fucking missed.” The impishness you had heard a moment before was now absent but he never gave you a chance to respond. Instead, he kissed you deeply and began moving to cover your body with his once again. He maneuvered himself in between your thighs, your legs automatically coming up to gently cradle his hips. “Your arm,” you broke away to warn him.

“Don’t care.” He lowered down to keep kissing you and surprisingly (or unsurprisingly perhaps), all was right in the world right then. You didn’t allow yourself to get swept away by it or by the fantasy of something that would never be. Sadly, the time for you and Russell to be together had come and gone. You’d had your chance and you both had blown it, with him starting you out of the gate. This right here, this was all that was left — like embers of a dying fire. You would always love him, you knew that (truthfully, you had always known it), but this was all you would ever have. Once you both walked out that door, you would be walking in separate directions, taking different paths in your lives, no matter what Russell would say.

But for right now, you allowed yourself to live in the moment, to enjoy it as he groaned into your mouth when your hand helped guide him to where you both wanted him to be. You held onto him as he began a slow movement within you, knowing you would need to take over again very soon when his left arm began to tremble. But until then you kept him close to you, drank deeply of him, and reveled in what the two of you had always managed to create together, content to keep Horizon and the rest of the world on the other side of the motel room door, if only for a moment longer.

A/N: I know I left some things open and unresolved. I wanted to do that to let this be a gateway to the continuing story in the short series coming titled "Closer".

Please let me know what you think. 😊

#russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw x y/n #russell shaw #russell shaw fanfiction #tracker fandom #jensen ackles character #jensen ackles

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multifandom-worlds · 2 days

Text

Missing in Action

Genre: angst

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Suicide, mental health struggles, grief, death (in passing), violence, bullying.

Authors Note: Hi everyone! This is going to be a bit of a heavier fic. If it's to much for you to handle, that's okay! Take care of yourself. This does have a bit of a happier ending. If I missed anything in the warnings, do let me know!

Ape - Bee

Bellissima - beautiful

Tagging: @slytherins-heir @simplyholl

The Battle of Hogwarts -- one of the bloodiest battles in the Second Wizard War, and you lived to tell the harrowing tales. You were one of the lucky ones.

A year and a half had passed since then, the castle had been rebuilt, and the dead were laid to rest. It took a year for classes to resume, but here you were again, going through the routine again with your closest friends - Draco Malfoy, who bravely fought against his parents on the side of good, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire and Regulus Black. Although things were getting back to normal, a significant part of your group was missing. Mattheo Riddle, son of the Dark Lord himself but, more importantly, your beloved, was gone.

Mattheo was not among the survivors at the end of the war, nor was his body found within the ruined castle rubble. The professors and Ministry of Magic alike scoured the school grounds in search of anything, but nothing could be seen of him. The mystery of his disappearance deepened, with rumours of what happened to him beginning to spread. One thing all the rumours had in common was painting Mattheo as a hero - the prodigal son of the Dark Lord, standing up against him, holding off the death eaters while many students fled. He was one of the many unsung heroes of the war, his fate uncertain.

As the months progressed and nobody ever found any trace of Mattheo, the hope of his survival began to drop. First, it was the Ministry. A few months later, the professors gave up hope that he was alive. Just recently, Theo had finally given up hope that he was still alive. You heard him talking in the Great Hall about it.

“What do you lot think? Is he actually coming back?” Theo asks, his voice calm. It was not quite a whisper, but it was not his total volume. “Do you believe Matt was actually able to survive the war? Survive all the shit he endured? Are we just kidding ourselves and holding onto false hope?”

Draco shook his head, looking around for you, hoping you weren’t in earshot. “There’s no way. He could not possibly have survived. I heard that on the second anniversary, they’re going to add his name to the In Memory speech. It seems as though everyone has accepted it now, except her.”

“I’ll tell her,” Theo says dejectedly. He didn’t want to break your heart even more. “It’s best it comes from me. I don’t want her to get blindsided by the news when it happens; she already has nightmares every night about the war. Like the rest of us, she carries those scars, mental and physical. She won’t like it.” he trails off with a deep sigh, placing his head in his hands, mentally psyching himself up to go have this conversation yet again.

He leaves the Great Hall in the direction of the Slytherin dorms. It wasn’t hard to know where you would be - you spent all your time in his bed, wearing his clothes and, in Theo’s mind, prolonging your hurt.

“You’re wrong, Theo!” You whimper, staring at your boyfriend's best friend standing at the door to his and Mattheo’s dorm. “He can’t be gone! There’s no way he's gone! We killed his father! You were the one who cast the curse!”

He opens the door of the dorm, seeing you sitting on his bed, reading your book, his pillow between your arms. “Hey, we have to talk.” He says, leaning against the doorframe. “They want to add his name to the list of students who died. I think it's time, Bellissima. I think you need to let him go. He died protecting the school, its students and you.”

Theo sighs, running his fingers through his curls. “Ape, he’s gone. There are so many places his body could be that would have been hidden. Yes, we killed his father, but that does not mean he didn’t have a hand in his death. I miss him, too. I miss him like you wouldn’t believe it, but you need to accept that he’s gone. He would want you to move on, apa.”

Your tears began to slide down your cheeks as Theo carefully sat beside you, wrapping his arms around you protectively. It didn’t take long for your whimpers to turn into full sobs as you hid your face against his chest. Words can not describe how terrible Theo felt at that moment, holding you once again as you sobbed into his chest. He wanted you to move on, to move on from all the pain and memories that place had, but until Mattheos body was recovered, he knew it was impossible. He held you as you cried, resting his chin on the top of your head, just as he has done almost nightly since the battle ended.

Theo pulls you away from him once all your tears dried up. “Please come for dinner, ape. The others are asking about you, and I want you to eat something, please.” He brushes your hair from your face, looking at you earnestly.

You nod softly, wiping your eyes. “O-okay. I do miss Reggie and Ferret Boy.” you chuckle at the nickname. Draco absolutely hated it, but he begrudgingly accepted it from you. “And obviously Enzo.”

Theo stands up first, taking your hand and carefully helping you to your feet, his hands on your shoulders to keep you balanced. Once you finished mentally preparing yourself, you take his arm, leave the dorm, and make your way upstairs to the Great Hall. You keep your eyes down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. Theo keeps you close; his imposing height and proclivity for fighting keep everyone away from the two of you.

“There she is.” You could hear Draco say as you and Theo step into the Great Hall. Tentatively, you look up, meeting the eyes of your favourite ferret. He smiles, waving you over. You and Theo make your way to the Slytherin table before joining your friends. “You look good, Bee,” Draco says once you’re sitting between him and Lorenzo.

“Fuck yeah, you do,” Enzo says next, pulling you into a side hug, and Theo rounds the table and sits across from you, beside Regulus. “I missed having my favourite Slytherin around. It’s not the same without you.”

“You see me in class every day, Enz…” You mutter, looking at him. You had no idea why they missed you because you still went to all your classes with them. “I’m still around; I don’t know what you mean?”

“I just mean...” Lorenzo begins, but a second voice interrupts him. You look up and see Cormac McLaggen standing just behind Regulus and Theo, a stupid, cocky smile plastered on his face.

“He means your depressed ass isn’t worth being around,” Cormac says, his friends laughing at the face you were making, your eyes welling up with tears. “Fuckin’ crybaby. If you miss that cunt so much, why not join him? Just do it in front of me so I can enjoy you.”

Within seconds of the last sound leaving Cormac’s mouth, Theo was on his feet, colliding his fist into Cormac’s nose, sending him sprawling against the empty table behind him. Before anyone realized what had happened, Theo was on him, landing punch after punch into his face.

Regulus joins in, the two of them taking turns being Cormac’s face until he is 50 shades of black and blue. His nose bent at a noticeable angle, his eyes were actively swelling and already turning black, and his cheek caved in. Several of his fingers bent out of shape, and he most certainly had several broken ribs. He lays motionless on the table, barely conscious as Madame Pomfry and McGonagall come rushing over.

“Mr. Nott, Mr. Black, what is the meaning of this!?” McGonagall demands, looking between Cormac and the two Slytherins.

Theo looks up at her, his lips pulled into a tight line, his whole body tense. “He called Mattheo a cunt, called his girlfriend a crybaby and told her to kill herself in front of him so he could fuck her dead body.” He stated matter of factly. He knew he was justified in his merciless beating.

“And I meant every fucking word. She’s a depressed bitch who needs to join her” beloved” if she missed him that much” Theo, Regulus and McGonagall could hear Cormac's strained laughter after he finished speaking.

Theo grabs him by his collars, hauling him up so their faces are inches apart. “If I hear you say anything about her or Mattheo, I will cut out your tongue with a pair of rusty scissors and watch you bleed to death. Got that, Cormac?” Theo drops him back on the table, spitting in his face before turning around and seeing you hiding your face against Draco’s jacket.

“Detention for you both! And 50 points from Slytherin. Each.” McGonagall states, looking between Theo and Regulus before turning her attention to you. “As for you, dear. This really is not good for you; you need to accept that Mr. Riddle is no longer with us. You need to move on and focus on your academics.”

“Excuse me…” you mutter, pushing away from Draco and running out of the Great Hall. You blink away tears as you navigate through the school. You didn’t know where you were going; you just needed to know you had to get away. Away from everyone who believed he was dead, away from everyone who told you to move on. Away from it all.

You found yourself at the top of the Astronomy tower, looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts. You sigh, remembering all the blood and carnage that decorated the grounds years before. You look over at the Forbidden Forest, the last place you saw Mattheo alive. He saved you from a death eater’s imperious curse by casting his very own Unforgivable curse - Avada Kadavra. You didn’t even have a chance to thank him before he was snatched up and dragged away by Fenrir Greyback. The last thing you heard from him was him yelling that he loved you and that he would find you again, in this life or the next.

You could hear a commotion below you on the grounds, but you paid it no mind. You were tired, tired of everyone telling you he was dead, tired of everyone bringing it up, tired of looking at your body in the mirror and seeing all the scars from that cursed battle on your skin, forced to relive it day after day. The PTSD was too much for you to handle, so you decided to jump, to end everything once and for all. You knew Theo and Regulus would be in detention; Draco and Enzo were probably tormenting them, so there was no one to stop you.

You pull your robes off, folding them neatly on the ground before grabbing your phone and writing a quick note, an explanation of why you did it. You carefully place your phone on top of your robes before stepping back up to the railing, intending to throw yourself off it when your phone rings. You picked it up again, only to see Theo’s name pop up. Odd, he should be in detention right now; you decide to answer it, acutely aware it could be one of Cormac’s minions ready to continue what he started.

“Hello…?” You answer timidly, walking back to the railing. The commotion happening below you was getting louder. Clearly, you were about to have an audience.

“Don't do it, my love. I need you!” The voice on the phone sounded too much like Mattheo, but you knew it couldn't be. He was dead; everyone believed it, and you were going to be next.

“Who are you, and why do you have Theo’s phone? He’s in detention right now.” You say, anger beginning to surge to the surface.

“You know who I am, love. Please, please don’t. Don’t listen to Cormac, he’s a scumbag. I need you; Theo and Reggie need you. Draco and Enzo need you to. We all need you. Please, my love, don’t do it.”

Your hand grips your phone, trembling. “I'm going to do it. Cormac was right. I'm going to jump and put an end to everyone's misery.”

The voice began talking again, sounding frantic. “Please, baby. Please don't jump. I can't bear to watch my only light extinguish herself. Please, Theo's on his way to get you, but please, please step away from the railing.”

“I don't know who I'm talking to, but it's not Mattheo. I don't believe you! You're just made up, a figment of my imagination. You're not real! He’s dead, and everyone believes it! But I'm going to be joining him soon!” You step forward, swinging one leg over the railing, tears streaming down your face.

“Mon Coeur, please….”

You swing your other leg over the railing, looking down at the dizzying height, ready to let go, when a pair of strong arms wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you back to safety.

“No! Let me go! I want to do it! I want to end it all! Please just let me join him!” You cry, fighting with whoever it was that grabbed you.

The arms wrap tighter around you before a familiar Italian accent hits your ears. “Ape, he's alive. You were right. He's at the bottom of the stairs. Come down, come with me, and we can see him together.”

“You're wrong, Theo! You told me he's dead! You and everyone else kept telling me he was dead and I needed to move on. Why are you tormenting me like this? Why are you doing this? Please just let me die.” You sob, fighting against Theo’s grip.

Theo rests his chin on your head. “If you're not going to walk down these steps, I'm going to carry you down, but we are going,” he says, very matter-of-factly. You give up, knowing Theo is serious. He notices the call is still connected, so he grabs the phone from your hand and puts it to his ear. “I have her; she’s safe in my arms. We're on your way down, Matt.”

“Oh, thank Merlin. Okay, I'll see you two soon.” Mattheo says a wave of relief washing over him. He was so thankful she believed he was still alive. If only he had gotten to you sooner, maybe you wouldn't have fallen this far into the darkness. All that mattered was he was about to see you again for the first time since the battle.

You and Theo slowly begin to descend the stairs; he has his arm wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you stable since your anxious trembling makes each stair dangerous. The closer to the bottom you got, the more your heart pounded in your chest. Theo wouldn’t lie…right? He wouldn’t pretend Mattheo was alive and the voice on the phone sounded so much like him, but it couldn’t possibly be him. You knew what Greyback was capable of; there’s no way Mattheo survived that.

You and Theo arrive at the bottom of the stairs, and there, standing right in front of you, is Mattheo - an older, more scarred and more traumatized version of Mattheo, but it is still Mattheo, your Mattheo.

You let go of Theo, nervously walking towards him. “Matty…?” You ask, gently touching his cheek. He cups your hand with his, leaning into your touch, his eyes meeting yours. You knew those soulful brown eyes anywhere; this is your Mattheo.

He smiles, taking your hand and kissing your palm, just as he always did before. “In the flesh, Mon Coeur. I missed you so much. I dreamt about you every night when I wasn’t plagued with nightmares. I was so scared you had either died or moved on, and I would never have you in my arms again, never wake up with your perfect face, never listen to you talk about everything you loved. Draco told me you never gave up hope, even when everyone else did. Thank you, baby. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“But how…?” you question, meeting his eyes, pleading with him. “How are you still alive? E-everyone believed you died…I saw you! I saw Greyback take you! A-are you really him?” You ask, step away, your suspicions growing. This has to be some sort of prank.

Mattheo’s face fell, his smile replaced by a heartbroken frown. “I promise, I am who I say I am. What can I do to make you believe me, amour?”

You look at him, wanting so desperately to believe. “How did you survive? Where were we, and what was the last thing you said to me?”

“We were in the forbidden forest; I told you I love you, and I would find you in this world or the next.” He smiles, seeing the doubt melt away from your eyes. “And as for how I survived. My brother. Tom.”

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle angst #slytherin boys angst #suicide #grief #mental health #tw death #death #violence #bullying

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hirik0 · 2 days

Text

You always meet twice 9

Ghost/Soap

NSFW

It took nearly 3 months for them to have enough time to get on leave, missions being back to back and Soap has the feeling he missed the point to tell Ghost he found the news articels about his families death. So they are on a flight to Manchester to vistet a graveyard. Great he really did something here. He looks out the window of the plane there are on. Only clouds and still 2 hours left till they are landing. Ghost is reading the book he bought at the airport but it dont really look like hes enjoying it. Soap start to bounce his legs, as hes getting nervous about 'seeing' Tommy for the first time since he joined the millitary. A hand is resting on his leg and Ghost gives him a questioning look.

"Nervous", he simply says and Ghost goes back to his book. Soap has to hold back a annoyed sound, Ghost is even more closed off then normal. Soap knows it is becasue he is sharing a gigantic part of his personal life that he likely never talks to anyone about. It also is not helping seeing Ghost in civilian clothes. wearing a surgial facemask, sunglasses and bennie to hide his identity as much as possible. Soap himslef is wearing a oversieceed hoodie to conceal how buff he is, just like Ghost. Two rows infront of them a couple is arguing louder and louder about a guy called Ryan. Soap never is somebody to ovehear other people problems, but these two are loud on a air plane and it is intressting and imbossible not to hear. At least more intressting then looking out the window on a flight. He flighs so much for work, so why is flying on leave so diffrent?

"Soap?", Ghost wisperes looking at him. Soap started to bounce his legs again.

"Bit nervous, don't know, guess not the same as flying for work." Soap tries to explain and Ghost clearly dont get it but nods anyway.

"Dont like the entertainment?" Ghost ask refering to the couple.

"Well I know more about this Ryan I ever wanted to know", Soap answers the question. Like really can't they fight in private?

"At least Ryan makes me cum something you can't do because you cant keep it up longer then 30 seconds." The woman says for the whole plane to hear and the two are sharing a look with the third person in the row. A very pregnant pause before the man is answering.

"Well it really hard to fuck somebody that sounds like a guinea-pig."

"The fuck", Ghost is wispering and Soap now has ro many questions in his head.

The fly of hell is finally over and they walk out the airport taking a taxi to the hotel they are staying in. They are silent and driver tried a conversation but Soap who usally chats off everybody ears said they had a rough flight and the driver understands. Soap as the more social person is handling checking in, while Ghost is checking out the lobby for potential threats. They have a room on the 10th floor at the very end of the hallway. Soap opens the door to a room with one queen bed. Ghost own nervousnes spikes at this. They can sleep in the same bed, no problem right? Soap is also nervous about the one bed, because his brain is hunted by Ghost and he's not sure if he will not do something dumb. They look at each other absolutely exhausted from the mission and the horrible flight.

"Window or door? "Ghost asks simply wanting to sleep.

"Window", Soap yawns his answer before dropping the bag on the couch. He watches Ghost who is reaching for a hiden knife hes not wearing because they flew civlian.

"We can buy a knife later", Soap jokes after Ghost is reaching for the next hiden knife. Ghost is turning towards him, giving him an angry look that is hiden behind the stupid sunglasses making Soap laught softly. He steps towards Ghost and removing his cover.

"The receptionist ask me if you are a star or something. Told her you are." Soap babbels a bit trying to not look directly into Ghost eyes. But he wants to look in these warm brown eyes.

"Maybe Im just ashamed to be see with you outsite of work and dont want to be reconiced." Ghost quips back, huffing amussed about it.

"Eejit" Ghost smiles amused at this, before ruffeling Soaps hair what is pissing the scot off even more. Ghost pulls off the mask and Soaps protest is stucked in his throat, holly shit dont freak out, stay calm, you saw his face before. More then ones by now.

"Get ready for a short rest, Sergeant", Ghost orders more as a joke but Soap follows his order with out thinking. Ghost chuckels, he didnt even use his Lieutant voice, ones a soilder always a soilder huh. Soap is pulling out some cloths out of his bag before disapearing in the bathroom. God damm it, he still needs to tell Soap that Tommy is dead.

Soap is closing the bathromm door, now is probably the time to tell Ghost he knows about the death of his family. He stripps out of the hoodie he actully Ghosts that got mixed up in the wasching and he never told Ghost. He dont even thinks Ghost knows that one of his black hoddies is missing. He keeps the T-shirt on and then strips out of the jeans, he for some reason chose to wear on a 4 hour flight. After putting on a pair of sweatpants, that are a littel to short on the legs and thigt for him now, but still good to sleep in. Splashing some water in his face before he picks up his cloths and leaves the bath room.

"Ghost", he says a bit unsure geting bouncy again wipping on his feet back and forth.

"You broke something?", Ghost asks confused by his behaivor.

"I... I know they are death and we will go to a graveyard", Soap shares his knowledge. Ghost is tillting his head looking like he is a bit more relaxed.

"Did you listen to one of these awfull potcasts?", Ghost just asks sounding tired. If they get even more out of hand he has to kill some of them.

"No, I saw the headlins of the news articles from when it happend. Didnt fell right to snoop further", Soap states and Ghost nods.

"Thanks Soap." Ghost says before he enters the bathroom. Soap drops down on his site of the bed and thinks about the thanks. A small word meaning a whole lot. Thanks for respecting them, thanks for not brining it up as soon as you learend, thanks for giving me the space to get ready to talk with you about it. A smile is apearing on Soaps face at this before he looks at his phone. Doing a quick search of techno clubs in Manchester. He can bring it up to Ghost later, about going to in a techno club in Tommys memories. He doesnt hear Ghost returning to the room, till the man is standing next to the bed.

"If you steal the blanket I will kick you out the bed." Ghost treatents him and Soap knows that this is not an empty one, being able to identfy Ghost modes by his voice alone by now.

"Well, then I still have the blanket", Soap points out grinning getting a anoyed sound from Ghost.

"3 hours enough?", Ghost ask being on his phone.

"Yes, Sir."

When Ghost is slowly being pulled out of sleep, he feels something heavy on his shoulder and chest. His instincts are imidiatly kicking in, pinning what ever is on his chest down into the bed. Reaching for the hidden knive that should be onder his pillow, to just not find one.

"God damit L.T.", a very familiar voice is complaining and Ghost need a few minutes to put one and one together. Right he is in a hotel in Manchester with Soap because they are visiting Tommys grave. So no knife under the pillow and Soap used him as a pillow. He gets of he Sergent mumbeling a sorry. Soap is revield that the weight on him is gone, but is know very aware on how hot his body thinks the whole situation was. Hes half hard and he his cheeks are red. Worst moment to learn something new about himself.

"You're heavy", Soap fake complains to play of how into he is in what happend.

"Need to eat more vegetables so you get big and strong." Ghost throws back and Soap nearly says something very dumb.

"I ate all my vegetables"; Soap stattes, a lie he only eat like 3 as a child, but all of them. So really a half lie.

"Com'on, Price will hate it if we get caught breaking into a graveyard."

The drive is short and Soap is a bit more chatty with the driver and Ghost just feels how all the conflicting feelings he always get when visiting the graves. He usally did break in, in the middel of the night, its more private and fits his mode better. The problem is that Soap is such an unknown factor in this visite. He thinks he now understands how Tommy felt when he intruduced Beth to his mother, he still made fun of his brother while being deployed at the time. Tommy absolutly give him the same shit now if they would be alive. He honestly would be a lot less nervous to introduce Soap to his living mother, because she would absolutly love Soap. Her not meeting him feels so wrong, its unfair one of the endless thinks that Roba is taking from him beyond the grave. Of course Soap notice him being even more closed of as usall checking in on him in the same silent way they do on missions. Ghost slowly nods unsure if he should not shake his head instead, Soap would understand and tell him they dont have to go there today. Deep down he knows he would find reasons for them not going here, he needs to remember this is not about him, its about Soap being able to say goodbye to Tommy. They reach the graveyard and get out, Ghost is not sure he will find the way when its not dark.

They need some time to find the grave site, Soap is polite enough to not comment on it. They are standing in front of it and Ghost feels himself locking all his emotions away. The only thing to stop him from fully disasociating is Soaps hand holding his.

"You think they would like me?", Soap asks sudenly knowing that his own family after some time would absolutly love Ghost.

"Without a doubt", Ghost answers tears starting to fill his eyes. It never felt like this. Its always this painfull emptyness and he never crys, so why now? Why now after so many years.

"You think I would be Josephs favourite uncle?", Sopa asks more as a joke to lighten up the mode a bit.

"Never." Ghost answers voice thin, holding back the tears as best as he could. Soap looks at Tommys name thinking really strong that he dont need to worry and he will look after Ghost for them now. He gives Ghost the time he needs, squising his hand and rubbing with his thumb over the knuckels of Ghost hands. They stand in silence for a moment till Soaps stomach growls loudly. He looks up at Ghost smilling unsure a font teary smile on Ghost face.

"Cant have my favourite Sergeant starve can I?", Ghost jokes getting a glare from Soap that screams eejit, but hes to respectfull to say it at the graves.

"I could eat", Soap agress after a while, his stomach doing funny things when he sees the amused smile on Ghost face. Hes so in love with Ghost its painfull sometimes. He also feels proud to make Ghsot smile when being here is clearly very hard for him. They are dancing around each other for months now and Soap is confident that Ghost feels the same about him, as he feels about Ghost. Ghost is using hth not intervient hand to lift Soaps chin up, and Soaps heart is ready to beating so fast it springs out his chest. Their first kiss on a graveyard, things that happen to you when you have a crush, no fall in love, with a guy everyone calls Ghost. Its a short kiss, before Ghost pulls him towards the exit.

Ghost leeds him to a hole in the wall italian restaurant, with amazing lasagna. Ghost is eating his spaghetti with a aioli sauce and shrimps. Not something he thought Ghost eats with his history of what he consinders food on a mission.

"This was moms favourite", Ghost says inbetween bites and Soap is not sure if he minds the restaurant or the dish. Nodding understanding, maybe its both.

"You always go here?" Soap asks leaving out the when you viste their graves and Ghost nods with a mouth full of pasta.

"Usally before." Soap frowns at this, slowly conecting the dots, leting out a painful sigh, of course Ghost vistes the graves in the middel of the night. Ghost shrugs at him, whos there to judge him before. Besites the dead but they keeped ther opinon to themselves.

"You want to go to a rave?", Soap asks feeling there is now good time to ask the question, but a restaurante is better then next to the graves. Ghost is chewing his pasta thinking about it.

"To honor his memory?", he asks and Soap nods mouth full of lasagna. "You already have a place dont you?" Soap smiles at this, trying to look innocent. Ghost should have known but he also has no reason why they should not go. Soaps lucky Ghost likes him and has no knife with him. Every other person would get stabbed.

"No talk to dubios people", Ghost warns him and Soap is pointing his forke full of food towards him.

"I can protect myself now." Getting a 'are you sure about that' look from Ghost, have saved Soaps life numerous times now, by simply watching his six. "Eejit."

Ghost is ones more reminded he absolutly hates techno and only listens to it when he misses Tommy really badly. Atleast Soap dont forces him on the dance floor, yet. He has the felling Soap absolutly wants to dance with him at some point. Well, if he looks at the crowed wipping from site to site with your arms up and jumping from time to time is something he can do. Watching their drinks, looking grumpy and keeping an eye on Soap nothing changed since he and Tommy became friends, well minus dealers. Atleast he hopes so, for the dealers sake, because whatever Soap does not do to them he absolutly will.

"Eh, exuse me?", a high pitched voice is screaming a question to him over the music and 3 teenager girls are standing next to him. He raises a eyebrow trying to figure out if they are even old enough to be here.

"Yes?", he acknowledegs them two hiding behind the girl that talked to him.

"Can you watch our drinks, we want to dance and.. ehh", the girl stammers also losing her courage the longer he stares at them.

"Sure" Ghost agress, three more glasses are really not a problem. The girl gives him a big smile that reminds him of Joseph. He lets it not affect his mood, honestly the three are very smart for asking somebody like him.

"Thank you." With that three glasses are palced on the table Ghost is claiming as his own and the girls are disapearing on the dance floor. He dont sees Soap or the girls for at least an hour, when Soap is getting out of the crowd. Smilling at him, not even minding Ghost is not dancing with him.

"Had fun?", Ghost asks him and Soap nods, before taking a sip from the now warm beer. Before he points to the three glasses that where not here when he left Ghost alone.

"Looking at them for somebody", Ghost explains and Soap gives him a puzzelt look. Who in their right mind would ask Ghost to watch their drink with the aura hes radiating? Must be some brave souls. Soap looks at Ghost, with the lights its not that easy, but hes pretty sure Ghost reached his limit to be here. So he trys to finishes hes beer quickly till the people that asked Ghost to look after them come back si they can leave soon after. Ten minutes later the first girl is coming out the crowd, shortly followed by the other two. Soap watches them, smillling at them while they look betwenn the two. The girl that askes him is still trying to figure out how their relationship, while sipping her drink.

"So you two are... like dating?", the girl asks after a while looking at Ghost for an answer.

"We're thinking about it", Ghost gives a vague enough answer. The girl nods at this still looking inbetwenn the two.

"Celine, thats non of our buisness", one of the other girls warns her. Celine is shrugging at that, she askes a harmless question. The third girl is looking at her phone, eyes wide and hands shaking.

"Lilly?", the still nameless girls asks her. Lilly is mouthing mom. Soap and Ghost give each other a look. Clearly both asking themsleves if the girls are atleast 18.

"Your mom is calling?", Celine asks finishing the rest of her drink in one big gulp. Lilly is mouthing facetime. Looks like these three are in trouble. Celine looks at the two soilders smilling.

"Hope you figure it out, we have to go and thanks again." With that the three girls disapearing towards the next exit. Soap chuckels at this, he dont even know how often Tommy and him ended up in a similar situation.

"We're thinking about it huh?", Soap says after a he finished his beer. Getting a 'watch what your saying' look from Ghost. Really Soap has no buisness saying anything about this, he send drunk expliced text and voice messages to his CO. Soap finsihes the last bit of beer in his bottel and the moment he palced it down on hte table, Ghost is leaning in close to his ear.

"Pretty sure when I look there is a message on my phone of you telling me something about my dick in your ass. So what else should i have answered because a simple coworkers is not covering it." Soaps feels his face flushing, and hes lucky Ghost is so close to his ear he cant see the rest of his face. Jesus why does Ghost have to bring that up now? Soap is opening and closing his mouth no words leaving it.

"Cat got your tounge? Johnny?", Ghost asks smugly knowing he is crossing some wires in Soaps brain.

"So does that mean you want to fuck?", Soaps asks a bit unsure where this is leading.

"You still want to ride my dick badly?" Ghost simply asks back as if hes asking is water wet, before kissing Soaps cheek. The heat on Soaps face is burning stronger, oh god, yes.

"Yes." Soap answers after his brain needs a bit to long to figure out how speaking works.

"Lets get out of here."

Ghost has no idea how they got back to the hotel room at all, but they both pulled the other at some part of the way both eager to go bak to the room. The moment the door is closed he pressing Soap against a wall, kissing him, how he wants to for a while now. Feeling how Soaps arms are closing around his shoulders.

"You know these voice messages you sent me? You fucking tease, drove me insane and ever since I plan to get these noices out of you", Ghost wispers against Soaps lips, felling how Soaps breath is hitching at this. Picking up the Sergeant like he weights nothing to put him on the bed, stepping back a few steps. Looking at his meal, his delicous meal. The red cheeks, the way Soap licks over his lips, the confident smile, that he ever thought they would not end up at this point. In the end he has to be honest with himself, Soaps text just speed up what would have happend sonner or later.

"Just looking? Sir?", Soap asks sitting up to watch what Ghost is doing. Looking the other man up and down, stoping a bit longer at the bulche of Ghost dick and damm it does look big. Ghost walks towards the bed, getting out of the black shirt he wore at the club. Soap is smillig cocky at him, before opening his legs a bit wider so that Ghost can fit in between them better. Ghost leans down to kiss him again using his hands to pin Soaps thighs down. They kiss for a while till Soap makes a annoyed whine, needing some fiction at his dick.

"So impatient", Ghost huffes at this before removing the shirt from Soap. Wanting to respond but Ghost is kissing him breathless. Soap uses his hands to roam over Ghost back, trying to not linger on the scars to much. Scratching down Ghost spine when he grows inpatient again. His pants are uncomfortable thight and need to get them off. Ghost smiles against his lips, before he sits up and his hands fly towards Sopas belt.

"Si..mon", Soap moans a complaint, when Ghost is rubbing over his dick to tease him a but more.

"Patience Johnny, I waited for monthes to get here, you can wait a few more minutes", Ghost chuckels opening Soaps sipper.

"I rather get fucked by you for a few more minutes", Soap answers shoving his pants and underwear down.

"I think we can have both." Soap thinks about flipping Ghost of for this, but a hand is around his dick. Ghost smears the pre cum with his thumb, before licking the finger clean, keeping eye contact with Soap, holding the others chin so he cant look away if he wanted to, but Soap dont want to. Then Ghost stands up, to get to his bag and leavin the scit to make a frustrated noice.

"Catch." With that a full bottel of lube, Soap has no idea when Ghost bought that, is flying towards him and a few condoms. Ghost smiles pleased at Soap confused look. While Ghost returns to the bed, Soap is opening the bottel. Squezing a good amount on Ghost holt out hand. Ghost warms up the lube, while John is turning around for easier access. Ghost spreads the lube, around Soaps hole before, he pushes the first finger in. He takes his time, always waiting for a impaient sound from Soap before he continues the preparation.

"Its good, focus on your legs at the moment", Ghost says into the room, after a while to rail Soap up a bit more.

"Si", Soap complains wanting to get to the main programm.

"Just a littel more or your into a bit of pain with your pleasure?" The moan that Soap is making is not really helping to understand what he wants.

"Words, Johnny." Everytime Soap trys to answer Ghost is rubbing over his prostate.

"Si, just get your dick out", Soap gets the words out, hes sure Ghost would have the patient to make him cum with his fingers only. The other is reaching for one of the condoms as asked, before he gets out his pants and boxers, only now realising how uncomfortable his pants gotten to engaged with getting Soap ready and rilled up. Soap turns around and gulps a bit, shit Ghost is big. Maybe he should just have waited till Ghost thinks hes ready, but well he wont back down, just going slow. He strandels Ghost lap, kissing him to get his nerves a bit down. Still not believing this is happening. Ghost is leaning back pulling the scot with him, till his back hits the sheets. Roaming his hands greedly over all of the skin he can reach till he rests them on Soaps waiste. Soap pulls back, feeling for the condom Ghost dropped somewhere on the bed. He finds it and looks at the foile for the size, getting a smug grin from Ghost. He takes place in between Ghost legs, so he sees what hes doing, with the condom and beause he wants to play with Ghost dick for a bit. Like Ghost earlier he uses his thumb to get gather pre cum at the tip and licks it of his finger, before he rolls the condom down, with one smooth motion realising, he barly can close his hand a round the grith. He swallows, this is probably the bigest dick he ever had. He takes the lube Ghost is holding out for him, before he lubes up Ghost dick, being more generous then he normaly would be. He gets in position and Ghost hands return to his waist. He sinks down slowly, feeling the stretch and how Ghost is also making sure he dont goes down to fast with all the impaients he shown earlier.

"Fuck", Soap courses when hes halfway down, deffentitly the biggest he ever had. "You're fucking big, Si." Ghost is rubbing circels in his skin, watching how he slowly disapears in Soap.

"Taking it so well", Ghost purrs some praise and Soap invoulentary sinks down a few more inches. Moaning when the tip is rubbing along his prostate. Precum drolling out of Soaps dick at this. Soap wiggels a bit from site to site as a test and the grith is so big theres no way it wont rub along his prostate the whole time.

"And is it the best ass your dick was ever in?", Soap jokes before going down a bit further. Ghost chuckels at this shacking his head.

"Had worse", Ghost simply states pushing Soap down a bit further, making the scot drow his head back. "So thats the best dick you ever had up your ass?"

Soap laughts at this, he should have known that Ghost would throw the question right back at him.

"Top 3 worthy", Soap admits and slightly challenges Ghost, before he sinks down the rest of Ghosts cock. They both are panting and Soap needs a while to get used to how full he feels, finally putting his hands on the others man chest. Soap starts slow, barely lifting himself up, before he goes down again a constant flow of pre cum leaking out of him, with every moment, oh this will be a amazing orgasm when he gets there. Ghost hands wander down to his hips, possesivly holding him. He will wake up with two hansprints on his hip. Slowly working himself up to a rythem that is not to over stimulating for him. He looks down at Ghost whos eyes are half closed, mesmericed by what Soap is doing to him, his lips are sligtly open and hes smilling. Soap cant stop feeling proud about this. He does this to the Ghost most feared asset of the SAS. Hands wander down his legs and Ghost is pushing his knees further apart changing the angle, causing his dick to push more against Soaps prostate.

Ghost is not sure how long he just watches, but he feels that Soaps thighs are shaking by now from the work the scot is putting into ridding him. He swattes Soap hand away when he try to reach for his dick.

"Si?", Soap pants, barely abel to take it much longer.

"Pretty sure the best dick you ever had is enough to make you come untouched, Johnny", Ghost states, loving the distressed sound Soap is making. He knows the other is at his limit, about to burst, but a selfish part of him, wants, no needs Soap to come only one his dick.

"Simon, please" Soaps desperation is such a turn on for Ghost, he wants the scot to go for longer. On the other hand he said please and how is he supossed to not give in. He uses one of the moves they use in training to flip them over, using all his weight to press Soap down on the matress. Soap trys to push himself up, but Ghost is increasing the weight on the other to keep him down.

"As much as I enjoyed the view I had." He feels Soap shivering at this, seeing the scot clawing the sheets. "I rather fuck you like I want to now."

Ghost goes deep and slow feeling every shiver Soap is making, his moans muffelt by the pillow. Soap is starting to squirm under him, the worse the overstimulation gets.

"Si, please", Soap sobs in the pillow its getting to much.

"Its easy Johnny, you just come from my dick and its over", Ghost explains directly in Soaps ear.

"I never", Soap whines and shit, now Ghost wants to be the first so bad, he wants to ruine Soap for everybody else, claiming the spot of Soaps best fuck ever making sure nobody will ever be better then him.

"You can do it", Ghost encurages him. Going a bit faster, and the moan from Soap is barely muffeld by the pillow. Soap feels himself starting to cry, with how overwhelming this is getting.

"Come for me", Ghost oders him and that somehow what he needs. His vison goes white, while is dick is exploding making an absolute mess on the sheets.

Ghost gets in a few more trust in to Soap before the comes in as well. Soap going limb under him. He pulls out carefully goes into the bath room throwing the condom away, before he gets a towl wet, to clean Soap up. He carefully moves Soap checking in on him, wipping the tears away, he needs to aks about them later. Wipping the cum from Soap and the bed, before the returns the towel to the bath room and drinks some water before he fills up a glass for Soap.

It takes Soap sometime to get back in the world of the living, felling a hand rubbing along his spine. He makes a sound blinking his eyes open. His head resting on Ghost chest.

"Si?", he slurrs his words confused. Feeling a kiss to the top of his head. Hes not sure if Ghost is saying something to him, but slowly he starts to feel he fabric of the sheets and the warmth of Ghost body. The next think he feels, is that is left shoulder hurts for some reason. He lifts his head, blinking at Ghost whos having a smug yet somehow pleased smile on his face.

"Si?", Soap says a lot clearer now and a glass is coming in his field of few. With the help of Ghost he drinks all of it.

"Did you bite me?", Soap asks and Ghost smiles apologetic at him.

"Yeah, when i came to not be to loud", Ghost admits.

"Fucking animal."

"No i would have fucked you diffrent, if i wanted to fuck you like a animal." Soap weekly slaps Ghosts chest.

"You never gonna get rid of me if you fuck me this good every time." Ghost kisses his forehead at this. As if he wouldn't keep Soap to himself.

"Did I hurt you, you cryed." Soap needs some times to get enough braincells working.

"No, a bit to much, because somebodies ego needed me to come with out my dick touched." Ghost kisses him, being absolutely pleased with himself.

"Dont worry I will only do it when we have the time for it." Soap looks up at him, yawning noding along.

"That sounds good, Si", Soap yawns out while fighting his eyes to stay open a bit longer.

"Sleep love", Ghost is wispering in his hair, before alowing himslef to also fall asleep.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty mw3 #cod mw3 #cod mw2

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Text

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of an affair

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 20

In my diary entry dated April 5, I wrote, “The baby’s getting more beautiful as each day goes by. Dr. Turman said she’s healthy and progressing well. Matt went with me to the pediatrician, waiting outside in the car. He also accompanied me to the obstetrician. He’s insisting I keep up with my regular checkups taking care of both of us like a doting father.

“But I’ve been lonely for him since the baby’s birth; he is still withdrawn. It’s been two months and he still hasn’t touched me. I’m getting concerned.”

The following day, I wrote, “I asked Matt if anything was wrong, if he’s lost his desire for me. I saw this made him a little uncomfortable. He told me he wants to make sure my system’s back to normal—that he doesn’t want to hurt me. That made me feel a little better.

“We brought Charlotte to our room, put her in the middle of the bed with us. She’s such a good baby—we can’t believe she’s ours.”

Matt and I started getting back into our regular routine. Since the baby was born, we were spending more time at Graceland, eventually moving all the horses back to the original stables, James selling much of the equipment and, later, the Circle G itself.

Matt accepted fatherhood with a great deal of joy, but the fact that I was a mother had a disquieting effect on him. I didn’t understand at the time, but later on I would learn more about men who are very close to their own mothers. I am no purveyor of Freudian theory. I believe when a man comes into the world, his first unconditional love is his mother. She cuddles him, gives him warmth, the breast for nourishment, and everything he needs to exist. None of those feelings has a sexual connotation. Later, when his own wife becomes a mother, this bank of memories is ripped open and his passion may dissipate.

When Matt’s mother was alive they had been unusually close. Matt even told her about his amatory adventures, and many nights when she was ill, he would sleep in her room with her. All the girls he took out seriously had to fulfill Mary Lou’s requirements of the ideal woman. And as with me, Matt then put the girl on a pedestal, “saving her” until the time was sacred and right. He had his wild times, his flings, but any girl he came home to he had to respect.

Now I was a mother and he was uncertain how to treat me. He had mentioned before we were married that he had never been able to make love to a woman who’d had a child. But throughout my pregnancy—until the last six weeks—we had made love passionately. He’d been very careful each time, afraid that he might hurt the baby or me, but he was always loving and sensitive to my needs. Now months had passed.

On April 20 I wrote in my diary: “I embarrassed myself last night. I wore a black negligee, laid as close to Matt as I could while he read. I guess it was because, I knew what I wanted and was making it obvious. I kissed his hand, then each finger, then his neck and face. But I waited too long. His sleeping pills had taken effect. Another lonely night.”

Finally, months later Matt made love to me. Before we made love, he told me I was a young mother now, that being the mother of his child is very special. But I wrote in my diary, “I am beginning to doubt my own sexuality as a woman. My physical and emotional needs were unfulfilled.”

We returned to Los Angeles, where Matt was filming Live a Little, Love a Little. He started getting into his old habits again. Frustrated, I started searching for dance classes to enroll in. I looked through the local Yellow Pages until one class caught my attention, a school for jazz and ballet not far from home.

The studio was small and unpretentious; the owner, Mark, was an extremely attractive and dynamic man of forty-five. He was an excellent dancer and a fine teacher, and by the time I left that afternoon, I had enrolled for private lessons.

Still too shy to dance in front of a group, I wanted to wait until I was sure I could keep up with the other dancers before taking a class. I began taking private lessons three times a week. Mark’s personal interest and attention were flattering, and I was soon doing lifts and jumps, things I’d never thought I could accomplish.

He said I had the potential to be a good dancer, and he pushed me to the limit. Out of frustration and pain I would want to quit. Demanding that I continue, he told me I was building character and forced me to repeat the same routine until it was nearly perfected. This made me realize that I could go further than I’d ever dreamed.

He believed in me, and I was accomplishing something. For the first time I was creating, feeling good about myself, and I couldn’t wait to get to class each day.

Mark was charismatic and I was particularly vulnerable. In lieu of a passionate marriage, dance was becoming my life; I was obsessed with it, taking all my frustrations and feelings into the studio. I found myself thinking about Mark even when I was home. I had only seen him a few times in my life and yet I was unable to get him out of my mind. I rationalized, telling myself it was because he was always there for me. He seemed to understand me, while the man I truly loved was involved in his own world. I began to relax, enjoying myself almost against my will. It had been a while since I’d spent some time with a man who validated my abilities and appreciated spending time with me alone. It was also the first time I was not competing for my own identity. This was a high I had not experienced recently. I had a brief affair and decided to end it.

I came out of it realizing I needed much more out of my relationship with Matt. Matt and I decided to get away to Hawaii.

This was the first time we’d gone on holiday, and I was hoping that it would be a second honeymoon, that my experience with Mark would be forgotten. We took along Charlotte, her nurse, Nate, Amber, Patsy and her husband, Gee Gee, Steven and his wife Nora, and Charlie. We checked into the Ilikai Hotel on Waikiki, but soon found that Matt couldn’t go to the beach without attracting a crowd. We decided to rent a house on a private beach and spent the rest of our vacation there.

We had a great time, and Matt and I were like two kids again, away from the pressures and the filming—and away from Mark, to whom my attention would occasionally wander.

It was there that we met Tom Jones, and Matt became very fond of him. He had always enjoyed Tom’s vocal style, especially in “Green, Green Grass of Home,” which Matt had first heard while traveling from L.A. to Boston. He’d called me when they’d stopped in Arizona, encouraging me to get the record.

Tom Jones and Matt enjoyed an instant rapport. After an appearance at the Ilikai, Tom invited us to his suite, along with our group. Within minutes the champagne exploded and the party was on. We laughed, drank, joked, drank some more (lots more), jammed—and reeled back to the Ilikai at dawn. Matt had had such a good time he personally invited Tom and his group to join us the next day at our beach house. A friendship was born, a friendship of mutual respect and admiration.

One of Matt’s outstanding attributes was his conviction that there was room for anyone with talent in the entertainment field. In my experience, only a few stars are this generous. Greed, insecurity, jealousy, ego usually keep celebrities from supporting one another.

Matt could spot talent instantly. In Las Vegas, we regularly took in lounge acts featuring various up-and-coming artists, and if Matt liked the show, he patronized the club, encouraging the entertainers to pursue their careers, infusing them with confidence and enthusiasm.

Some of his favorites were Ike and Tina Turner, Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, dancers Tybe and Bracia, and old-timers Fats Domino and the Ink Spots, all talented people deserving acknowledgment in their craft.

One night we visited Barbra Streisand backstage at the International Hotel, now the Hilton. It was a classic Streisand performance and Matt, after a few too many Bloody Marys, wanted to tell Barbra his impressions. We were ushered backstage to her dressing room and Matt’s first words upon meeting her were: “What did you ever see in Elliott Gould? I never could stand him.”

In typical Streisandese she retorted, “Whaddya mean? He’s the fah-tha of my child!”—leaving Matt speechless.

Matt had some other very special favorites—Arthur Prysock, John Gary, opera star Robert Merrill, Brook Benton, Roy Orbison, and Charles Boyer’s recording “Where Has Love Gone?”

He couldn’t abide singers who were, in his words, “all technique and no emotional feeling” and in this category he firmly placed Mel Torme and Robert Goulet. They were both responsible for two television sets being blown away with a.357 Magnum.

Matt’s five-year contract with MGM was up in 1968 and he was finally free to move on to new challenges. Even Colonel admitted that Matt’s career needed a shot in the arm. NBC made him an offer to do his own television special, with newcomer Steve Binder directing. There was no initial format, but the idea was tempting and the money was right. The fact that there was no script—that it was an “open development”—made Colonel hesitant to agree. Colonel demanded more control than that, but Matt wanted to meet Steve, make sure that they could get along, speak the same language.

It had been years since Matt had appeared on TV and he was nervous. To his surprise, Steve was much younger than he had anticipated, extremely perceptive, and soft-spoken, a startling contrast to the studio heads he’d worked with, men much older, with hardened, preconceived opinions on how Matt should be packaged and sold. For the first time in years he felt creative. Steve Binder gained Matt’s trust and had the sensitivity to let Matt just be Matt. Steve observed, took mental notes, learned Matt’s ways, discovered what made his star comfortable and what got him uptight.

During their meetings Steve sensed Matt’s fear that he hadn’t been before a live audience in years but he noticed that Matt came alive backstage in the dressing room jamming with the musicians.

Each day he grew more confident and excited about his new project, taking pride once again in his appearance, watching his weight, following his diet, and working closely with the show’s costume designer, Bill Belew, creating a look we hadn’t seen him sport in years—the black leather suit.

I was surprised when he said, “Sattnin, I feel a little silly in that outfit. You think it’s okay?”

Matt knew this special was a big step in his career. He could not fail. For two straight months he worked harder than on all his movies combined. It was the most important event in his life.

During this time I was discovering whole new worlds of music—Segovia; Blood, Sweat and Tears; Tchaikovsky; Santana; Mason Williams; Ravel; Sergio Mendes; Herb Alpert—and I was anxious to share my new enthusiasms, music and dance, with my husband. I wanted to bring energy to our relationship in the hope of strengthening our marriage. Discussions at the dinner table now included Leonard Bernstein and Carlos Montoya, but they held no appeal for Matt; the TV special was consuming all his thoughts.

He was away much of the time, and when we did see each other our level of communication was strictly superficial. Each absorbed in our own separate pursuits, we had little in common except our daughter. My approach with him was delicate: I was aware of the distance growing between us. But because of his preoccupation with the special, I realized that the last thing he needed from me was a statement that I feared we were drifting apart.

In his absence, I was taking care of Charlotte in addition to attending dance classes in the morning, ballet in the early evening, and two jazz classes at night, lasting often until one in the morning. I was now studying with a new dance instructor, who was using me to give demonstrations for the evening classes. Many of the students were professional dancers. I had diligently worked my way into the company, rehearsing four hours every day to master new steps, constantly pushing myself to new limits, and eventually I was to take a place in the dance company, anonymously performing shows on weekends at colleges in the L.A. area.

Matt’s Singer TV special was a huge success, the highest-rated special of the year, and his finale, “If I Can Dream,” was his first million-sell-ing record in years. We sat around the TV watching the show, nervously anticipating the response. Matt was quiet and tense through the whole program, but as soon as the calls started, we all knew he had a new triumph. He hadn’t lost his touch. He was still the King of Rock and Roll.

It was a blessing for both of us. The hours I devoted to dance released him from the strain of my dependence. My new interest didn’t pose a threat in the sense that taking up a profession would have. I was still there to tend to his needs, as he wanted his wife to be, while also creating my own world, no longer intimidated by the magnitude of his. I was growing, learning, and expanding as an individual.

This new freedom nearly came to an abrupt end when a newcomer to the clan decided to take it upon himself to investigate my comings and goings. He reported to Matt that I was seen coming out of a dance studio at a late hour and did Matt want him to carry it any further. Matt’s unpredictability in dealing with certain crises in life could be astounding.

Logically, such a volatile man would explode. Instead, he made no accusations. His only comment was, “Little One, there are some people who are insinuating you’ve been seen coming out of a dance studio at late hours.”

“It’s true. You know I’m part of the company. It’s not just me leaving. That’s the time we break.”

I pleaded with him to tell me who was starting trouble. All he would say was, “Let’s put it this way: He’s new and he’s treading on dangerous ground. If he knows what’s good for him, he better keep the fuck to his own business.”

After the success of his special, Matt devoted several weeks to a recording session, and again he was highly motivated. For the first time in fourteen years, he’d been persuaded to record in Memphis, at the American Sound Studios, a black company where major artists, including Aretha Franklin, had recorded their most recent hits. The studio musicians were young and Matt had a great rapport with them. More importantly, he made great music with them.

He’d be at the studio singing until the early-morning hours and then return the next evening, full of energy and ready to start again. His voice was in top form and his excitement was infectious. Each cut was more terrific than the one before. We’d listen to the songs over and over, Matt yelling, “All right, listen to that sound,” or “Goddamn, play it again.”

Colonel stayed away from this session. Matt was the artist, and he was on a roll. He ended up recording so many songs, it took RCA a year and a half to release them all, including hits like “In the Ghetto,” “Kentucky Rain,” and “Suspicious Minds.”

Watching Matt sing with confidence again, honing each word in his own style, filled us all with pride. What a contrast to sessions in the past that had been filled with anger, frustration, and disappointment, resulting in late arrivals or, on occasion, no-shows.

At one point he looked over at me, smiled, then casually started singing “From a Jack to a King.” He knew it was a favorite of mine. Later he sang “Do You Know Who I Am?” As I listened to the words, I couldn’t help but relate to them.

After four years of lackluster songs, he was back on the charts again, and RCA could no longer complain about him. They’d been threatening the Colonel that if Matt didn’t have a recording session soon, they were going to rerelease some of his old songs.

One success led to another. Since his TV special, he was eager to begin performing in front of a live audience again, to prove to everyone that he hadn’t lost his touch. Looking for the best source of immediate income, the Colonel made a deal with the nearly completed Las Vegas International for Matt to headline there for a month, at a salary of half a million dollars.

Vegas was the challenge he needed to demonstrate that he could still captivate a live audience. This was what he loved most and did best. But it was a major challenge.

He hadn’t made any real demands on his voice in years and now was locked into two shows a night for twenty-eight days straight. Anxious, he wondered whether he was up to the strain, whether he’d draw sellout crowds, whether he would be able to hold an audience for a full two hours. He wanted this new act to be accepted, feeling he now had more than his rock-and-roll gyrations to offer.

Not only was this a crucial time in his career, but there was the additional pressure of the unprecedented fee and the fact that Las Vegas was the only city where he’d bombed, thirteen years earlier, in 1956.

He wasn’t the kind of person who’d come out and say, “I’m scared.” Instead I’d see it in his actions, his left leg shaking, and his foot tapping. He held in his fears and emotions until at times he would explode, tearing into anyone who happened to be around. At dinner one evening Matt said that he was concerned about his hairstyle, and I mentioned I’d seen a billboard of Ricky Nelson on Sunset Boulevard. His hair was long with a slight wave, and I thought it was extremely appealing. I innocently suggested that Matt take a look at it. “Are you goddamn crazy?” he shouted. “After all these years, Ricky Nelson, Fabian, that whole group have more or less followed in my footsteps, and now I’m supposed to copy them? You’ve gotta be out of your mind, woman.”

He left the dinner table in a rage. He had always been hailed as an original and now he was afraid that in Vegas even that wouldn’t be enough. I knew I had injured his ego and for that I apologized.

In preparing his show for the International, Matt pulled out all the stops. He was in top form—on a natural high quite independent of pills. He was more trim and physically fit than he’d ever been.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - these next few chapters will be a little slower paced sorry!!🎀

#matthew sturn #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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