#and in the last few years I grew the gut and the body hair the prove it lol

[darlingshane]

Todo Tuyo (All Yours)

Pairing: Criminal!Shane Walsh x Spanish!Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Some bonds are unable to explain, and yours with Shane has always been a mystery. No matter how many times he's hurt you, you always ended up taking back his sorry ass. This time, after three years gone, when he comes back, you're married and pregnant. And not even that can challenge that bond.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Heavy Angst, Smut, Pregnancy Kink, Breeding Kink, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Complicated Relationships, DV, Abuse, Mention of drugs and violence, bittersweet ending.

Word Count: 10.9k

— Read below or at AO3.

A/N: A few important things you should know before reading since I couldn't sum it all up:

— The DV and Abuse warnings don't apply to Shane. — Reader's husband is the abuser. — This is kind of a Dark!Shane version, but he's soft for reader, I promise! — I wrote this as a Spanish!Speaking Reader. — Shane is fluent in Spanish. He learned for her. — I tried to keep Spanish down to a few sentences only, but I translated them all in (bold, italic parenthesis like this). — I won't be translating however all the pet names, just when I need to. But for reference – Shane calls reader 'Corazón' (it means heart, it's the equivalent of Sweetheart) and Reader calls Shane 'Cielo' (it means sky, and it's just like Sweetheart or Honey.)

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You only cracked the door as far as the chain on the lock let you. Through it, you could only see half of your ex-boyfriend's face shadowed under a worn-out baseball cap from Jim’s Body Shop. A handful of curls stuck out on the sides. His chin had a nice shadow from a three-day stubble, and the bags below his eyes gave away that he had been up for longer than he should have. He was still the hottest motherfucker you’ve ever laid your eyes on. No matter how much time had passed since the last time you saw him, Shane Walsh aged just like wine and all you wanted to do is pour yourself a cup of that.

That’s how strong was his hold on you.

You didn't have to be a genius to see that he wanted something from you. That was his MO, he only showed up when he was in trouble and had no one to turn to but poor old sucker you, who never had the guts to kick him to the curb.

“I need a place to stay for a couple of nights,” he said under a breath.

“Things have changed. You can’t stay here this time.”

“Look, I know it's been a while but–”

“A while?” you scoffed. “It's been three years, Shane.”

“I know that. But I don't really have anywhere else to go right now. I drove all the way from Wyoming just to see you. One night. That’s all I'm asking, Corazón. I won't get in your hair. I promise.”

You hated saying no to him, even after all this time. Even after all the times he's let you down, you couldn’t stand seeing him hurt with nowhere to go, but this time there was nothing you could do to help him. Except…

“I could get you a room at The Sennott for half off. If you need money…”

“No, keep your money. I'll work something out. Could I…”

“What?”

“Before I go, you think I could have a cup of coffee with you?”

You shook your head as his face leaned closer to the door frame.

“C'mon, baby, just one for old times,” his plush lips barely mumbled.

You caught a glimpse of those big, sad puppy eyes of his he pulled off so well. Whether it was genuine, it didn’t matter. The fact is that it worked like a charm and against your better judgment, you sighted, unlatched the chain and welcomed him into your home.

After all that time gone, you still had a soft stop from him, and you doubt that’ll ever change. Alas, he’d always be the man you’ve loved the most. That sucks for you and for him. Cause he has a tendency to disappear on you when you most need him, and after the last time, you decided that you wouldn't be waiting for him anymore.

“Wow, you’re pregnant,” taking off his cap, his eyes grew wide when he stepped inside the house.

“No me digas.” (You don’t say.)

It was hard to miss. You were seven months along already and couldn’t even believe it happened so fast.

Your palm drew the curve of your rounded belly over the t-shirt you were wearing. The hem barely touched the top of your thighs, and that’s where he looked next.

“You always had beautiful legs, Corazón,” he smirked, placing the backpack he was carrying on a chair.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you turned around and thought about all those times your thighs were wrapped around his head while he ate your pussy.

“It never did,” Shane scoffed, fixing his messed up curls.

You picked up the carafe from the machine, filled a mug with coffee without even bothering with heating it up.

“Five minutes. He’ll be here soon,” you said firmly, handing over the mug.

“I’ve always liked it cold anyway,” he lifted the cup up to his lips as you leaned on the counter. “You’re not having any?”

“It’s not good for the baby.”

“Oh, right.”

“What have you been up to, anyway?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Not really,” you crossed your arms and paused. “I guess I thought I deserved to know why you didn’t come back when you said you would. I saw Rick a few months ago and said he hadn’t heard of you in a while… led me to believe you were dead.”

“Shit happens.”

“Shit happens? Me lo merezco por preguntar,” you couldn’t hide the frustration in your tone. (I deserve that for asking.)

“I thought you’d be over me.”

“I am.”

“Ain't seem like it.”

“Mira, cabrón,” you showed him the ring around your finger, and pointed once more at your pregnant stomach. “I’m completely over you.” (Look, bastard.)

“That doesn’t prove shit. Looks like you wanted to one-up me, and move on as fast as possible so next time I’d show up, you’d have an excuse to throw me away.”

“Yeah, maybe. Doesn’t mean that I’m not over you.”

“You were always a terrible liar, you know that? Do you even love the poor sucker?”

“Why do you care?”

“Cause we both know, that no matter how much you hate me, you’d never love anyone as you love me.”

“That’s bullshit, Shane.”

“Sabes que es verdad, Corazón. You also know that no man would ever care for you like I do.” (You know that’s true, sweetheart.)

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be leaving every five minutes. You think you can just come here like nothing happened?”

“It's worked before.”

“It’s too late now.”

“Is it?”

He took one more sip from his coffee before placing the mug on the breakfast bar and going around it to have you closer.

As your stare fell to the floor, he noticed the bruise on your temple.

“Hey, what happened here?” he lifted his hand to your face and gently touched it.

“Nothing,” you swatted his hand away, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I hit my head with the cabinet last night.”

“Did he hit you?” His brow knitted.

“I told you. It was the cabinet.”

“Hey, mírame,” he placed a finger under your chin, and tilted up to capture your watery eyes. “Dime la verdad. ¿Te ha puesto la mano encima?” (Hey, Look at me. // Tell me the truth. Did he lay his hand on you?)

“Tienes que irte.” (You gotta go.)

“¿De qué tienes miedo, Corazón?” (What are you afraid of, Sweetheart?)

“No tengo miedo de nada… You just can’t be here when he comes back.” (I’m not afraid of anything…)

“Alright, I’ll go if that’s what you want, but I need to do something first,” he lifted his hand up to your face and framed your chin.

“Shane… don’t…”

“Sh, sh, it’s okay,” he said under a breath, placing his thumb gently on your lips.

“Please,” You weakly pleaded, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop what was about to happen.

His tongue swiped across his lips, and the next second they were gently pressed against yours.

Your eyes welled up and quickly shed a few tears upon that first initial contact. It didn’t take much to get you under his spell once more, for the umpteenth time. No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself how fucking toxic he is, you fell for it every damn time like an idiot. It didn’t matter that you were married either, as bad as it sounds, what you and Shane had was something that couldn’t be stopped by any means. Only death could put an end to it. It didn’t help either that you weren’t on the best of terms with your husband either, so guilt went out the door the moment you let Shane in.

Unable to pull away, you let him deepen the kiss and invade your mouth with his tongue. He went slow and tender. That’s how it always started, he’d play on your good side, and once your defenses were down he’d go in full swing. He’d breathe in your air, soak in the taste of your mouth, take all the space until you were left breathless.

You linked your arms around his neck, and kissed him back, following the sweet undoing of his familiar lips as they fused tightly with yours.

When he tried to press himself closer to your body, your pregnant belly got on the way.

One of his palms tenderly landed on top of your stomach and drew the big curve that was keeping him away from you. Your heart fluttered as the small gesture.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are like this?” he broke the kiss, and looked down at his hand, while your head responded with a faint shake. “Eres preciosa, mi vida. I’d’ve put a baby in you before if that’s what you wanted.” (You’re gorgeous, my life.)

“I know, that’s why I never asked,” you placed your palm on top of his roughed-up knuckles. “Have you beaten up someone?”

“Something like that.”

“You’ll never change. Will you?”

“I could if you ask me.”

“You are who you are, Cielo. I can’t ask you that, and you can’t change for me.”

“Cielo. I missed that,” his face beamed, framing your tummy with both hands and dipped to kiss your forehead.

“One more for the road?” You held his face, and it was you this time the one capturing his mouth.

You kissed him as if this was the last time you’d ever see him. You needed something to hold onto. It was so fucking naive of you that he’d ever change or settle. He had another mistress, one that had no lips or body or soul that led him to the darkest of paths far away from yours. It was impossible to compete with that. Until he was ready to let that life go, there’ll be no future between the two of you.

Maybe one day, you kept hoping as you basked in the swirl of his tongue. He was so fucking needy and hungry for you, it became desperate. He panted in your mouth, had trouble catching his breath cause all he wanted to do is swallow you all.

His hands moved to your ass, gripped hard at your flesh. You wish you had the power to stop all that at once. You could, but you wanted him just as much. Your hormones were not helping either. They only fueled the flame that was still clearly alive between you.

You moaned in his mouth, as the sloppy doing of his tongue drove you out of your mind. One of his hands reached further down your bottom, slipping between your thighs to feel the dampness pooling on your underwear. He always knew how to get you wet with just a kiss, but this was something else entirely. You were sopping wet. He could feel your juices seeping through the fabric.

“Say that you don’t want me again, I dare you,” he drawled with a shit-eating grin.

“Shut up. I need you to fuck me,” you sucked in his lower lip hard between your teeth, tugged it, and let it go when it was bright pink.

He scoffed at your request, not of mockery but pride of being still able to incite you like that.

“We don’t have much time. You have to do it fast,” you warned and turned around, pushing your panties down to your ankles as he undid his belt and fly.

“Your wish is my command, Corazón.”

Shane quickly pulled out his cock. It was half hard.

Biting on your lip, you glanced over your shoulder to see him jerking himself off up to a firmer completion.

You stuck your butt out and propped your forearms on the hard surface of the counter, as Shane guided his cock oh so carefully between your tender lips.

“I’ve never fucked a pregnant woman before. I don't wanna hurt you,” he confessed in your ear as his hardness stroked just a little further into your walls.

“Don’t overthink it. Baby’s safe. Just fuck me like always.”

“Hmm,” he followed your order and after a couple of experimental thrusts, the pace of his hips skyrocketed to a punishing level that felt like heaven and hell rising at the same time between your legs. He kept your hips locked in his hands, fingers digging in your flesh as you tucked one of your hands between your legs to feel your juices leaking all over your legs and floor. It was like nothing else you’ve ever felt. Most of it was partially hormonal, the other part was a mix of being touch-starved from your husband, and missing Shane, and his cock like crazy.

You rubbed your clit and all of a sudden one of his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt at the front to feel your breasts.

“Fuck, you’re so big and juicy, mi vida,” he grunted, squeezing your overly-sensitive, pebbled nipple that felt like a rock between his fingers. His face leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “I’d put another baby in there if I could. You’d like that?”

“God, I would love that,” you moaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder. “Come inside me, mi amor.”

“Yeah? Tell me you love me, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I love you, Cielo,” you gasped as he removed your hand from your pussy to replace it with his own. “I fucking love you and your big cock. Please. Hmm, fuck… fuck, fu…”

“There, mi vida.”

You felt your soul being pulled out of your body when the winning push forced a torrent of pleasure that traveled over your body as your opening contracted around his dick. You went up so high, so fast, you almost didn’t feel when he shot his load.

When he slipped out of you, you quickly went down to pull on your panties back in place. You almost felt embarrassed at the mess that you made on the floor and all over the cabinets below the counter if it didn’t feel that good.

“You really have to go now,” placing a palm on his chest, you glanced out the window, knowing that your husband wouldn’t take much longer now.

“I wanna see you again.”

Your eyes welled up. “We can’t do this again, Shane. If he finds out…”

“Please,” he pleaded over and over in between a trail of desperation and kisses peppered all over your face and neck. “I can’t live without you, mi amor, mi cielo, mi corazón. Te necesito.” (My love, my sky, my heart. I need you.)

“Shit. Alright,” you paused to collect your thoughts. “Come tonight. After ten. He’ll be gone the whole weekend. If there’s a truck on the driveway you turn away.”

“Got it.”

“Leave your car at the end of the street, you walk all the way here, and come at the back. ¿Entendido?” you pointed at the back door in your kitchen. (Got it?)

“Alto y claro.” (Loud and clear.)

“C’mere, Cielo,” you wrapped your arms tightly around him, and inhaled the smell of his neck for a long moment before sending him in his way.

You went into the bathroom to clean yourself up and saw his seed had dripped from your pussy to your panties. It was still warm and wet. You dabbed your fingers on it and shamelessly brought it to your lips to remember how his cum tasted. Then you pushed those same fingers into your opening to pick up the remains of you and him and licked every bit of it off your digits.

You hated that he had turned you into this mess of a woman that couldn’t ever resist him. Some bonds are unable to explain, and as much as you hated him, you loved him even more than you thought.

As you wiped your legs and changed your underwear, you felt the roaring of your husband’s truck pulling up the driveway before stomping into the house. You hurried to clean up the mess in the kitchen. You could tell it smelled like sex, but Clayton had been drinking as usual, and his senses were shot by the stench of alcohol.

You really knew how to pick them. First Shane, then Clayton. To be fair, Clay was a completely different person when you met him. It wasn’t until a few months ago that he lost his job, and you got pregnant that he started showing his true colors. While Shane, you always knew what you were in for cause he was always the same person from beginning to end, he never hid what he was.

Every other weekend Clay went to a cabin up in the mountains with a group of friends to hunt and whatever the hell they did cause hardly you ever saw anything brought back from those alleged hunting trips. He just brought more dirty clothes soaked in booze and muddied boots. Lately, you didn't even care. You actually preferred when he was gone cause it got him out of the house and those weekends away were the only times you could breathe.

For all that he had put you through, you didn’t feel guilty in the slightest from doing what you did with Shane. God knows Clay would probably be fucking around. You were sure of it cause one, he hand’t touch you since you told him you were pregnant; and two you weren't blind or deaf either, and had caught him talking overly friendly, like he used to talk to you at the beginning, over the phone a couple of times when he thought you were asleep.

“Did you have coffee?” Clay picked up the mug with coffee grounds that Shane left on the counter. “You shouldn’t drink it.”

“I didn’t have any. I had a friend over earlier and I forgot to clean it up.”

“You know how I feel about having people in my house when I’m not here.”

“It’s my house actually,” you pointed out. “What? Are you gonna forbid me from having friends over now?”

You knew you shouldn't poke the bear when it was drunk, but sometimes your mouth ran faster than your brain.

“We're married, remember? What's yours is mine and all that shit. Don't forget that, bitch.”

God, you had to refrain so hard from punching his face.

As you headed out of the kitchen to avoid getting yourself further into trouble, he grabbed your arm, stopping you from leaving.

“I am your husband. And this is my house. You'd be nothing without me. Show some respect.”

“Men who hurt their wives, their pregnant wives, don't deserve any respect,” you snarled. “Now let me go before you do something you might regret later.”

He looked at you with sharp steel eyes, clutching your arm so hard it felt like he might snap it in half. He wanted to hit you so badly, you could tell, like the night before when he swung the remote across your face when you accidentally knocked over his beer.

You held his stare just as defiantly, and pulled your arm free from his grasp. It left a mark that turned into a bruise quickly after.

Staying out of his way, you went into the nursery and sat down with a book on the armchair to read while he gathered his hunting supplies. You heard him heating up some leftovers and showering before leaving.

All you could think when you listened to his truck drive off was seeing Shane again. You had a couple of hours left to get ready. It was a safe window for you to know that your husband was up in the mountains and wouldn't be coming back till Sunday. You followed his friend's updates on Instagram to keep track of him. Trent was an avid poster, and it was the perfect way to keep tabs on him to avoid the imminent disaster of him finding you with your ex.

You took a shower and changed the sheets of your bed, so they wouldn't smell like Clayton. You were dead set on banging Shane in your bed. Technically, he had fucked you many times before, pretty much in every room of this house but never in your new marital bed. It really excited you thinking about it. You wished you had more time to go to the mall to purchase some sexy lingerie that fitted your pregnant body.

God, Shane really knew how to turn you into an idiot.

In the end, it didn't matter what you wore cause it wouldn't stay on for long. You opted for wearing a pair of lacy panties that you could still fit, but the matching bra didn't stand a chance against your new boobs. You put on a flannel shirt instead, and buttoned a couple of buttons that allowed for your generous cleavage to be the center of attention.

You took off your ring as well and hid it in one of the drawers of your nightstand.

When you finished fixing your hair you went around the house and drew all the curtains for privacy. Then you finally got to relax for a while. You checked Trent's Instagram to make sure they had arrived at the cabin. Exactly like you predicted, he documented the whole thing.

Waiting for Shane, you watched TV and ate some food. When you looked at the clock it was twenty minutes past ten. He couldn't be far, right? You built yourself up to the idea of meeting him again, that’d be disappointing if he didn’t come.

For ten more minutes, you started to believe you shouldn’t have put that much effort until you heard a soft knocking on the back door.

“Empezaba a creer que habías cambiado de idea,” you said, letting him in, and securing the lock on the door. (I was starting to think you changed your mind.)

“When have I ever disappointed you, mi vida?” As you took his hand, you gave him a look, and he scoffed, “don’t answer that.”

“I’m just glad you came back.”

“Fuck! Look at you, Corazón,” his eyes traveled down your body when you turned to him. “You wanna give me a heart attack?”

Taking that as a win, you grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled firmly towards you to have his lips crash against yours. Then you took him to the bedroom and as you were about to capture his mouth again, Shane stopped you.

“Hold on,” he put some distance between the two of you. “I need to get a good look at you.”

He took off his shirt and tossed aside, as he circled around your body, committing to memory the new curves of your body. When he stood in front of you, you took a closer look at his exposed chest and gulped at the sight of your name tattooed in delicate lettering over his left pec.

“You got that for me?” you traced it with a finger.

“Si, Corazón.”

Your stomach fluttered as his fingers undid the two buttons of your shirt and pushed it off your shoulders to uncover your breasts and baby bump.

“You’re gorgeous like this, mi vida,” the flannel shirt fell to the floor as the back of his knuckles brushed the side of your heavy breast before holding one of them in his hand. It was way larger than his palm he realized, he used to be able to hold it all, now your flesh puffed up between his fingers when he squeezed. “You’re so sensitive.” He noticed your nipples getting hard with just a light touch.

“You can’t even imagine,” you laughed.

“How about here?” Shane guided his other hand between your legs to feel that you were already wet.

You hummed at the soft strokes of his fingers as they slid under the elastic to caress your tender skin. His lips parted at the corner of your mouth as he gathered the arousal from your folds. Your lips down there were puffed too from all the blood gathering all at your core.

“Lay down, I wanna eat you up, Darlin’.”

He bit his bottom lip and watched you following his order. You slipped your panties off under the dark stare of his beautiful eyes that had turned from sweet to a dangerous edge that could set anyone on fire.

You tucked a few pillows beneath your back to keep the weight of your belly off your spine, and reclined as comfortably as you could, spreading your legs wide for him like an offering.

With a grin, he propped a knee on the bed and looked at your cunt as if it was the most precious thing he’s ever seen. He settled between your legs, curled his arms around your thighs and dived right in. With the tip of his nimble tongue, he slowly drew the shape of your lips before circling around your clit. Unlike your husband, Shane was a master of giving head, and was well versed on your pussy. Even after all this time, he still remembered what made you tick.

A shiver ran down your spine as the plane of his tongue licked long strokes from your entrance to your swollen bud.

You threw your head back when his lips wrapped around it. The vicious pressure of his lips around that bundle of nerves felt out of this world.

“God, I’ve missed you, Cielo,” you moaned, threading your fingers in his hair.

“You taste so fucking good,” he grunted ferociously against your folds as a response and all of a sudden he began to suck on you like a starving beast.

Your juices, just as before, leaked all over. It was ridiculous how much you could produce in such a short time. You could feel the fabric below your ass absorbing them.

All your bearings were quickly lost as he took you closer to the edge. All you could do is cry out in pleasure, and squirm as his grip tightened around you to keep your hips in place. You tugged hard on his hair to anchor yourself but all that did is prompting him to go even harder.

“Close… I'm so… fuck, Shane, please… please,” you couldn't stop begging with shallow breaths. Your core was on fire, and you desperately needed to come. “Yes, like that… Ahhh.”

Your legs suddenly clenched around his head a wave of wild bliss coursed through your body, from your center out in different directions. Your toes curled, your muscles shivered, your breathing faltered as your mind was temporarily blown into pure joy. You closed your eyes and let that all take you over your body for a few seconds.

Slowly coming back to your senses, your pussy tingled for a little longer than usual.

Shane was on his knees between your legs, massive erection in his hand when you opened your eyes to find him staring directly at you.

“Goddamn, Corazón. I wish I could take a picture of you like that. I've never seen you come like that for me,” he groaned, pumping his length. “Look how fat you made me.”

Softly laughing, you managed to lift your hand to help him. You replaced his fist with yours and felt the jerking of his firm dick in your palm. His girth was so wide, your thumb couldn't touch any of your other fingers in a curl.

You wondered how many pussies his cock fucked during the past few years. And without thinking or stopping your hand, you asked…

“Di, ¿cuántas zorras te has tirado con mi polla?” (Say, how many bitches have you fucked with my cock?)

“¿Tu polla?” he snorted. (Your cock?)

“Yes, just mine,” you winked as you kept your hand moving. “Dime la verdad o paro.” (Tell me the truth, or I’ll stop.)

“Hmm, no me tortures así, Corazón.” (Hmm, don’t torture me like that, Sweetheart.)

“Come on. Tell me,” you requested again.

“None,” he panted, unable to keep up with the rhythm of your hand. He had to brace a palm on the mattress to keep himself from falling. “You said it. Soy todo tuyo, mi vida. Te lo prometo.” (I’m all yours, my life. I promise.)

You smiled widely, pressing your teeth on your lower lip, as you enthusiastically got him to ejaculate all over your swollen belly. It was warm and sticky, and you couldn't help but spread it like butter all over your tight skin, and bring some of it again to your mouth as Shane’s body melted next to yours.

You turned to the side, pushing the pillows under your back aside, keeping one for your head.

Your fingers found his stubbled jaw as you tilted his face in your direction.

“You really haven't been with anyone since the last time I saw you?”

“No. Not like this, Darlin’. Don’t get me wrong, I fooled around with a couple of girls but nothing else. You know me better than that.”

“I'm not sure if that's still true.”

“Do you wanna know where I've been the last two years?”

You were afraid to find out, but your head nodded anyway.

“Prison,” he said without breaking eye contact.

“What for?”

“Possession. Bet you thought it was about time they caught up with me, huh?”

“No, I’ve never thought that, Shane. As much as I wanted to punish you sometimes, I never wished for that to happen. When did you get out?”

“Yesterday morning,” he smiled softly. “All I could think was you, so I got in the car and I drove all the way here without stopping.”

“You could've called me.”

“I couldn't.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you would've dropped everything to help me, and I couldn't put that on you.”

“I wish you had. I would've done anything…”

“I know.”

“I'd have waited for you.”

“I know that too, Corazón. Don't beat yourself up for it.”

Your phone dinged, and you blindly extended your hand to pick up from your nightstand. It was another update from Trent. They were playing beer pong like fucking frat guys, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“What’s that?” Shane asked.

“Oh, nothing, just checking on him. I’m keeping tabs on his friend’s Instagram to see that he’s still at the cabin.”

“No, not that. This,” Shane lifted your wrist as the soft light from the night lamp highlighted the mark on your forearm. “You didn't have this earlier. I told you my truth. Would you tell me yours?”

Placing your phone down, you pursed your lips, pondering why you’re still protecting that asshole.

“I… you were right earlier. I don’t really love him anymore. I don’t think I ever did. I just needed some stability and I thought he was it. This happened after you left. And this,” then you pointed to your temple, “he smacked me with the remote last night.”

“Why are you with someone like that? I thought–”

“You thought, what, that I had some self-respect? I used to. I think I did. It’s more complicated than you think. He wasn’t like that when I met him.”

“They hardly ever are.”

“He lost his job a few months ago and started drinking, it wasn’t until recently that he-”

“Stop. Don’t make excuses for him. Losing a job doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole and hit your wife or any woman at all. And drinking… I know a thing or two about getting wasted, and I never put my hand on you no matter how drunk I was.”

“You're right… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Then, kick him out. Call the police. Get a restraining order. This is still your house, right?”

“Yeah, it is. But like I said – it’s more complicated than that. He has two cop friends. Best friends. They protect each other like fucking wolves. Last year, one of them killed a girl in a DUI, and he got nothing but a slap on the wrist. If I were to show up to ask for a restraining order, who do you think they’ll protect?”

“That’s fucking crazy. You can't live like that, baby.”

You sighted, combing the curls behind his ear. “Sometimes, when he goes away like this I think – this time he’d be too drunk to drive, and he’d end up going over a cliff, die upon impact and would never set foot in this house again. I keep closing my eyes at night and dreaming about it.”

Shane softly patted your hair back, and snuggled closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“I’m not gonna let him hurt you again. I promise, Corazón.”

“You don’t have to save me.”

“Lo sé, mi vida.”

Smiling against his chest, basking in the familiar scent of Shane, and feeling the big flutter of a kicking storm in your stomach. You held his hand and placed it on the side of your belly.

“She’s kicking. Can you feel that?”

“Yeah, I feel it. She? It’s a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s strong. Does she have a name?”

“She does,” you placed your mouth over his ear, and whispered the name of your baby girl.

“That’s a beautiful name. She’s gonna kick ass, just like her mama.”

“I hope so,” your lips quirked up as you placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and confessed. “I wish she was yours.”

“I wish she was mine too.”

Your lips locked together once more as you rid yourself of all bad thoughts clouding your head. You only ever wanted Shane. It’s easier to forget how much you love him when he’s not around, and just as easier to remember that you’d die for him if you had to. As the intensity of the kiss rose, you shifted and straddled his waist. He watched you become a goddess as you rubbed yourself over his dick, getting it to fully harden.

“Are you in heat or something?” he laughed, holding your hips.

“It’s the hormones. What? Aren’t you up for the challenge, big guy?”

“Oh, I’m up, alright.”

You lifted your ass, held his cock and carefully sank onto it.

Rocking back and forth you propped your hands on his broad chest, so you could boost yourself up to bounce all over his massive erection. His hands held your ass to help you go faster.

When you caught him eyeing your big breast you bent over, holding one in your hand and put it over his mouth, so he can suck on it. His lips wrapped tight around your sensitive nipple and latched on it. You were growling at the wonderful sensation paired with his throbbing cock inside you.

“God, Corazón, you’re amazing, you feel so… “ He moaned as he switched to the other nipple.

This time his teeth scraped the surface, and you almost came at the surprise. You were so close you couldn’t help but bounce a little faster. You had to brace both hands again to keep up with the rhythm. The weight of your belly started to hinder your pace the closer you got to the edge.

“Help me,” you grabbed Shane's hand and put it on your clit, pleading with a cry, “I need it. Please.”

“I got you, baby. I got you.”

He rubbed viciously on your clit until you came with such force all your juices squirted all over him. Then the pleasure of your orgasm forced his own. His cocked jerked, and suddenly you were filled again with his delicious seed.

You didn’t hear Shane leaving after you fell asleep in his arms.

When you woke up to pee a couple of hours later, the clock marked 4AM, and he wasn't in your bed anymore. He had left the house altogether. You didn't have plans for the next day, but you weren't expecting him to leave that early in the morning either without saying goodbye.

There was a pang of disappointment in your chest as you went back to bed, but you closed your eyes, naively hoping he'd come back later.

It was your lucky day cause when you opened your eyes again, he was back and had brought breakfast with him. All our favorite plates were laid on the breakfast bar as he made a fresh batch of coffee.

“Where did you go, Cielo?” you asked in between bites.

“Went out for breakfast.”

“I can see that. I mean earlier. Woke up at 4 and you were gone.”

He took a long sip of his cup before responding, “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a drive to clear my head.”

“It must be strange sleeping in a new bed.”

“Yeah, a little.”

“I have to work later. I can call in sick if you want–” you offered.

“No, baby, do what you gotta do. No te preocupes por mí.” (Don’t worry about me.)

“You can’t stay here, but I could still get you a room at the hotel if you’re tired.”

“Nah, do your thing, I’ll figure it out.”

“Would you… come later?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll be here, Corazón,” he kissed your hair and picked up your phone from the counter, “unlock it. I’ll put in my new number, and you call me when you’re off. Yeah?”

“Prométeme que volverás,” you said before handing back the phone. (Promise that you’ll come back.)

“Lo prometo.” (I promise.)

After cleaning your plate you relaxed in bed for a little while, trying to get him to catch up with his sleep. There was no luck in that department cause he couldn't keep his eyes and hands off you. So once again, you found yourself in a trance of hormone-induced lust, and had Shane thrusting into you at full force from behind. Your ass was in the air, held in his broad palms, while you sobbed and moaned in pleasure against the pillow beneath your head. You desperately pushed back with your hips, taking him all in. Feeling every stroke, every inch and throb until your legs were left trembling and the fire in your core had spread through your whole body.

When you went off to work in the afternoon, it all seemed to become a hazy dream. It was all so intense that part of you thought it couldn't be real. But that was most of your relationship with Shane. Sometimes you couldn't help but feel you weren't enough for him. Him constantly leaving and breaking his promises was proof that you shouldn’t trust everything he says, but this time felt different. Maybe it was cause he was fresh out of prison, but you could tell that perhaps he was ready to stay out of trouble.

The first half of your shift went by quickly. You kept checking your phone like a maniac to make sure your husband stayed where he was supposed to, and luckily he did. If he wasn’t afraid of hurting you, you weren’t afraid of hurting him back, but you were indeed scared of him finding out about you and your old flame regardless.

You were at the front desk when Shane came in an hour before your shift ended to ask for a room. He needed a place to stay after all, and as the manager you managed pretty well to comp him a room for a couple of days. He carried his scarce luggage that consisted of just a duffle bag to his room, took a shower and waited for your shift to end.

Shane was half asleep when you finished work and knocked on his door. It was easy to see that he was utterly spent, so you didn’t make him drive back to the house. Instead, you stayed with him for the night. You trimmed his curls and shaved his face. Then, you took a long bath together like old times.

“Are you going to stay this time?” you asked once you got into bed.

You faced the other under covers and didn't talk louder than a whisper.

“I don't have anywhere else to go, baby.”

“Does that mean that you're done hustling?”

“I gotta. I don't have any other choice than to be done. Next time it could be 20 or 30 or life. I think I've tempted fate way too many times and got away with more than I should've. I had a lot of time to think and realized none of it mattered. Didn't care about the money. It was just… I don’t know, the power I guess. And I missed on a lot of time with you, and now I have nothing to show for. I don't really know what I'm gonna do, but I'm done with all that. All I know is that I just wanna be with you.”

“I…” your words caught up in your throat, as you tried to convey and process what he said at the same time. “I wanna believe that's true, but you've said you were done before and always felt right back into it.”

“This time is different. I can promise you that I'm not going anywhere this time. Cross my heart.”

Your lips softly pulled up at the corners as you placed your hand over your name's tattoo on his chest.

Regardless of his promise, you’d always have some reservations when it comes to him. Until he really proves it, there’s nothing stripping all those doubts he’s ingrained in you over the years.

When you woke up in the middle of the night he was gone like the night before. This time there was a note saying that he had gone out for a drive and signed it with – I love you, Corazón.

By the time you got up this time he hadn't come back. It didn't worry you though. You just went on with your day, drove back home to take a shower and run some errands before your next shift.

You weren't exactly sure what was going to happen next. You couldn't just jump into Shane's arms after all this time and pretend nothing ever happened. If this was really happening you had to make sure that was true to his word and figure out how he’d fit into your life when you were about to have a baby.

But most importantly, there was something you had to do first. Something that you should’ve done a long time ago and that was leaving your husband. You had been subjected to verbal and mental abuse for months that gradually turned into physical abuse. No matter how much it scared you, it was time to put your foot down and protect not only yourself but your daughter. She couldn’t be raised around him. And Shane or no Shane, it was something you couldn’t keep brushing aside hoping it’ll get better. It was easier to think about it than to actually do it. You weren’t sure how to start. Like you told Shane, going to Lafayette’s Police Department wasn’t an option. But maybe giving Rick a call and asking him for some guidance could be the first step of many.

You pinned that thought for the next day and went back to work a little earlier than usual. It was Sunday afternoon, and you dreaded that Clayton would be coming back later. So you decided to pay Shane a visit before work.

“You know, being here with you this weekend… it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened in a long time, Sweetheart.”

“Well, anything can beat spending two years in prison.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, mi vida. I mean it. I just hope you can forgive me someday for everything I’ve done. There’s a lot of shit you don’t know about that I wanna tell you but…”

He lowered his stare.

“Shane… I… If what you say it’s true, if you prove that I can count on you and that you’re not going back to all that, I’d never hold anything against you. That’s my promise. Whatever you did, you’ve done your time, right?”

“Right,” he picked up your hand and kissed your knuckles before smoothing his palm on your baby bump.

“I can come back later, just for a little while before going home.”

“If you feel like it, I’ll be here, Corazón. Always. No matter what happens.”

He said kind of ominously before you left the room. His tone was certainly different from the night before, he could barely look you in the eye as you said goodbye.

It really puzzled you as you went back to your desk. Maybe he was just tired or perhaps, he was actually feeling the weight of all his actions at once and was actually remorseful. You definitely hadn’t seen that look in his face before that afternoon.

On a quiet evening, when you thought this weekend couldn’t bring more surprises, there was something else that turned your world upside down when two of Clayton’s friends showed up at the front desk. It was the two cops, Simon and Paulie, or Prick One and Prick Two as you called them, asking you for a private place to talk.

You took them into the office where they asked you to sit down, so they could break the news of your husband’s death. It was hard to hear, no matter how many times you’ve fantasized about it, it seemed impossible and your first reaction when they told you he drove over a cliff was to burst into laughter.

“You guys are joshing, right?” you scoffed, and their faces remained unchanged, dead serious. “That can’t be right. He was with you the whole time. I saw it in Trent’s fucking pictures.”

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. It’s true. We ran out of ice, and he said he was going to the gas station for more and never returned last night. We didn’t find him until this morning… we weren’t sure it was him until they got down to get him. That’s why we waited to tell you.”

“Ice? He went out for ice?” You gritted in disbelief.

“He was pretty wasted. We all were, but you know how he was, once he got something in his head…”

“That’s the last thing he said before leaving.”

“But we believe there was something else that I rather you hear from us than on the news. They found a bag with amphetamines and cocaine in his truck.”

“After he lost his job he was desperate and, we kinda knew that he was selling to-”

They kept spitting out information that didn’t seem feasible to you until you snapped.

“Stop, stop, stop,” you said stiffly, holding your palms up for a moment before getting up from your chair. “Everything you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. He’s many things, but he’s not a fucking drug dealer.”

Though it’d explain some things, you couldn’t believe Clayton had turned into that.

“You kinda knew? That’s bullshit. You either were fully aware of what he was up to or you two are the dumbest cops I’ve ever met. You just don’t – kinda knew –” you threw big air quotes at their own words.

“Hey!” Simon raised his voice for just a second before his partner motioned at him to have some tact.

“We know you’re hurting, sweetheart. It’s a lot to process, but we’re here for whatever you need. Clay would’ve wanted us to help you.”

A lot to process was an understatement.

You looked out the window and saw Shane’s jeep parked in the lot, and it dawned on you. It wasn’t an accident or a coincidence… It was Shane. He killed him. It was as clear as day. You told him about your fantasy of Clayton falling from a cliff the other night, and he made that happen. He murdered him in your name and these two clowns were obviously too stupid to figure that out.

It made you sick to your stomach to think about it and you had to fight not to throw up right on the spot.

“Do I need to identify the body? Is he…?” you couldn’t even imagine what he would look like. All you could think about is the last time you saw him when he grabbed your arm, that same arm you unconsciously were gripping to as hard as he did.

“We can take care of that. You don’t have to see him like that.”

You simply nodded as vile rose to your throat, “there’s a lot… If you could… I need to be alone for a minute.”

“We understand. Call us if you need anything.”

They left the office and the first thing you did when the door was closed was hurl everything you had eaten earlier in the wastebasket.

Beads of sweat covered your forehead and chest when you came out of the office. Your boss dismissed you from work and instead of going home, you went straight to Shane’s room for answers. What he said earlier about forgiveness of all the things he’s done suddenly made a lot of sense. He wasn’t talking about three years ago, he was talking about what he had done last night.

When he opened the door, your cheeks were already covered in tears, as rage just fired through your body. You couldn’t voice anything other than a “how could you….” as you shoved him back several times with all the strength you could muster until his back was pressed against the wall.

You didn’t have to say much cause he was aware that you knew that he indeed had killed Clayton. He fucking knew that sooner or later you were going to find out.

“Lo siento, mi vida. De verdad que lo siento…” (I’m sorry, my life. I truly am sorry…)

He wasn’t in fact sorry at all, he was sorry that he hurt you, but he wasn’t carrying an ounce of guilt from killing your husband in cold blood.

“He had to go. I’m sorry. I couldn’t just let him hurt you again, you gotta know that.”

“No. You’re not putting this on me. You did that cause you’re a selfish piece of shit. I shouldn’t’ve…”

“C’mon, you practically begged me the other day. Why would you tell me that you kept dreaming of him dying if you didn’t want me to do something about it?”

“It’s called being vulnerable. You caught me at a bad time and took advantage of it. I’m sick of men like you and him making the rules as they go.”

“I didn’t make any rules. I did what I had to cause you didn’t have the guts to kick him out of your life.”

“I had a plan… I was going to… and you…” you kept losing the ability to put your thoughts together.

“Babe, I don’t care if you hate me for as long as I live but, I’m gonna sleep tonight like a baby knowing that that asshole won’t ever touch you again.”

“Is that easy for you, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel just one bit relieved that you won’t have to see him ever again. Di la verdad.” (Tell the truth.)

You shook your head, and swallowed the hard pill of his words. He was partly right. As shocking as it was, you knew that after all this, you’d be glad he was gone.

“It doesn’t matter, Shane. What you did was evil.”

“I did it cause I love you.”

“No, you did it cause you wanted to.”

“I didn’t wanna, I swear. For the first time… I didn’t wanna do something like this, trust me.”

“Trust you? I don’t think you deserve that.”

“You should go home and rest…. Once this is over you’ll see more clearly that this had to happen.”

“See more clearly? You’re the one with tunnel vision, Shane. If you can admit that what you did was fucking wrong, then there’s nothing else to say here. We’re done.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t wrong. I know it was. But the only thing that matters to me is that you and your baby are safe. And if they lock me up for it, so be it. I don't fucking care. I wasn't gonna sit down and watch him hurt you again.”

“I… I really don't know what you expect me to do with all this. You killed, not just someone… you killed my husband. How can you sit down and pretend that everything will be fine? How are you gonna live with that?”

“Wasn't really the first time. I told you there was a lot you didn't know about.”

“That doesn't make me feel any better. I said I wouldn't hold anything against you, but this is too much, Shane.”

“I know.”

“No matter what he did, he didn't deserve…” you started but immediately realized you didn't even believe your own thoughts. He did deserve to die. Just not like this, perhaps. “Is there any way this could be traced to you, to us?”

“No, I covered all my tracks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to give you the rundown?”

“If someone finds out…”

“Nobody's gonna find out. I promise.”

“Tú y tus malditas promesas. Sigues siendo el mismo cabrón.” (You and your damn promises. You’re still the same bastard.)

“Hey, mírame y dime, en tu corazón de corazones ¿De veras crees eso?” (Look at me and tell me, in your heart of hearts, do you really believe that?)

You glanced at him, but you couldn't focus enough to tell or understand what you believed anymore. Your head sunk into your shoulders in defeat before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Was he really selling drugs or did you plant them?”

“I didn't plant anything. I have no idea what he was up to. I just followed him with my car and made sure he went…”

“How did you know where he was?”

“You showed me where they were in that photo the other night. Their dumbasses even tagged the location.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“So you want the rundown after all.”

“Just wanna make sure… I don’t know anymore… I don’t know why I care at all,” you tiredly held your forehead on your palms.

“Look, the less you know the better. They won’t come after you. I’ll make sure of that… but to answer your question, no, nobody saw me. I used a different car, I scooped up the place the night before and just waited… I thought I’d have to do it when they were all asleep but, when he got into his truck I saw my chance.”

“Ya es suficiente.” (That’s enough.)

You promptly stood up as you were torn in different directions inside. Turning your back on him, your hand reached for the door handle. “You should leave town while you can. I won’t tell anyone… but I can’t see you anymore.”

“So this is it? This is how it ends?”

“I don’t know… I just can’t really look at you right now. You put my life upside down in two days, Shane.”

“I’m so sorry for that. I really am. But I hope one day you have it in your heart to forgive me… I… I won’t be going anywhere. If you need me, I’m just one call away, Corazón.”

You didn’t look back, didn’t even glance over your shoulder one last time to see him as you stepped out of the room.

Emotionally and physically exhausted you drove home as your brain switched on autopilot. The next few days were hazy and draining. As soon as the body was released for burial you got the funeral out of the way quickly. It didn't surprise you that it was ruled as an accident, with the levels of alcohol in his blood and the drugs in the truck didn’t leave room for questioning foul play. And the worst part of it all, and that Shane was right, you didn’t feel bad at all for his death.

Though Shane left the hotel you worked at, he stayed in town. You saw his car parked by the diner the day you returned to work.

He stayed away. More than once you thought he’d come up out of the blue and show up on your porch, and you’d be too weak to deal with him again. But He didn’t even dare to call or text again after that day.

It wasn’t until three or so weeks later, when you started feeling more like your old self, you began going through Clayton’s stuff. There wasn’t really anything you wanted to keep, so you threw most of it in the donation pile and called it a day. There was one thing though, that you couldn’t sort, and it was the storage cabinet he had padlocked in the garage. You went through every drawer and pocket to find a key to it, but there was no luck. Maybe it was lost in the mountains with him, you thought. Then, as much as you wanted to avoid that, you had no choice but to search the bag you were given with the personal belongings he had during the ‘accident’. There you found the key attached to his keychain.

At that point, nothing surprised you anymore when you opened the cabinet to find a backpack filled with prescription pills and other drugs you didn’t recognize. Along with it there was also some cash, a gun with a box of ammo, his work tools, a pair of utility boots, and a few magazines.

Perhaps that’s the excuse you needed to see Shane again, who fucking knows, but for whatever reason you picked up the phone and called him. Without going into detail about your findings, you asked him to come over to look at your car instead and he did. A couple of hours later, as the sun went down, he knocked on your door.

“I’m glad you called,” he said.

“Follow me,” you requested dryly, as you guided him into the garage. With the door shut down to the driveway, you opened the cabinet and showed him. “Can you get rid of this?”

“Is this yours?” He scanned the bag of stash. “Have you been hiding a side hustle?”

“No, asshole. It was his. I’ve just found it and I don’t know what to do with it. Do I call the police?”

“Don’t. Please don’t do that,” he pleaded. “I’ve been watching those two, you know his friends, and they were in it too.”

“How do you know?”

“Cause I know. Why do you think they were so quick to rule it as an accident? They turned him into his errand boy. He didn't just go out for ice, he was making a drop that night. Those fucking pictures they kept posting? Those are their alibis.”

Short of breath, you took a step back and leaned against the hood of your car. “I don’t wanna know any of it. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’m tired of all this, Shane… I want it to be over.”

“Sorry… I… yeah, I’ll get rid of it.”

“What about the gun?”

He picked it up and made a thorough inspection making sure that it wasn’t loaded.

“I’ll take care of it too.”

“Wait, if it’s registered, shouldn’t I just turn it over or something?”

“Ghost gun. Has no serial number, see?” He turned it around and pointed at the side to show there was indeed no number where it was supposed to. “In normal circumstances, you could say you just found it, but in this case… I wouldn’t do it.”

“Got it. Just do what you have to do. Get rid of the cash too, I need all of it gone.”

“Now, hold on, there's like 8 G's here. You should keep that.”

“It's drug money, I don't want it.”

“Yeah, but you could use it for something good. Buy something for you or the baby.”

“I don't need it, I was doing pretty good without his money. I won't be able to use it without thinking about where it came from. I never took yours, I'm not gonna take his now.”

“Think it's for a good cause. Like it or not, he was her father, you could open a savings account for her. Don't let it go to waste, sweetheart. You might need it someday.”

“I… Sure. I guess you're right.”

“I could get you a good price on that bag too. I'm thinking about 5-”

“No, I don't want you to risk it. Just get rid of it. Burn it, bury it, toss it somewhere far away from here.”

“Are you sure? The Dixons owe me one, I could get them to–”

“I'm not gonna bend on this one Shane. I mean it. Stay away from the Dixons. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Alright, I’ll just get rid of it. But y’know I’m taking a huge risk getting this off your hands.”

“Oh.”

“So, are you sure you want me to? If they find me with this, I could get locked up again.”

“Ya empezamos… ¿Quieres algo a cambio?” You huffed, crossing your arms firmly over your belly. (Here we go… You want something in return?)

“No, I mean… I just wanna see you for a coffee sometime.”

“Told you, I don’t drink coffee.”

“It doesn't have to be coffee.”

“I’m too tired to do this again Shane. Do it or don’t. I don’t care. After you’ve put me through… no tienes derecho a pedir nada.” (You have no right to ask for anything.)

“Lo siento. Tenía que intentarlo. Can you blame me?” (I’m sorry. Had to try.)

“Yes, I can.”

“Okay, I set myself up for that one,” he huffed, and looked at the bag in his hand, and reiterated. “I’ll take care of this, don’t worry about it. No strings attached.”

“Thank you.” It took you a moment to say it, but you did. “So, you’re not leaving town. You’re not scared of being found out?”

“No, I’m not scared of being found out.”

“And what’s your plan now?”

“I meant what I saw the other day. I'm staying. I got a job at Jim’s. He’s letting me use the trailer behind the shop to save some money. And that’s my plan for now. Why? Thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

“No? It seems like you awfully care a lot about what happens to me for someone who says doesn’t give a fuck.”

“I was just curious, Shane. You can just go, we don’t have to keep talking.”

“But I like talking to you.”

“I know you do. That’s the only thing you have over me. Every time you open your mouth… you’re just one step closer to…”

“What? Changing your mind?”

“It’s not a good thing.”

“As I see it, it’s the best thing.”

“Of course you do.”

“Okay, let me ask you just one more thing, and then I’ll go.”

“Okay, one.”

“If someone you loved was treated like you were–”

“Shane… don’t.”

“Lemme finish, please. If someone you loved was treated like you were, wouldn’t you do something about it? What if it was one of your friends? What if it was me… or what if an asshole in 20 years treated your daughter like that? Would you just stand by and do nothing?”

“That’s not a fair question. You’re playing on my emotions right now. Of course, I’d do something about it.“

“Then, why is it different? Would you kill for me if I was in danger?”

“That’s more than one question.”

“Would you?”

“I don’t know. I guess it depends on the situation. Once upon a time, if you had asked me that, I’d say yes, I’d have killed anyone for you.”

“¿Y ahora?” (And now?)

“No lo sé… I have something more pressing on my hands right now. I’m not alone anymore,” you glanced at your baby bump. “The difference between you and me is that I have to consider that what I do affects her.”

“Guess I should’ve thought that.”

“You should’ve.”

“We could still make it work. Maybe not now. But maybe someday when you can look at me again without seeing what I did. What do you think?”

“I think you’ve gone over the limit of questions you said you were going to ask, and my head is starting to hurt. But you know that I’ll never rule anything out between you and me. We’re both a lost cause. And if you really stay out of trouble and keep your word, who knows? Maybe one day I’ll change my mind.”

“That’s all I needed to hear, Corazón.”

Shane closed the backpack and slung it on his shoulder.

“Be careful with that.”

“Don't worry about me.”

His hand carefully slid on the side of your neck as Shane pressed his lips to your forehead. It lingered, once again making you feel as weak as the day you met him. It made you question whether to push him away or just give in to old habits. You've accepted that no matter what he did, you'd never be able to get rid of him.

You tentatively held his jaw between your palms, and stared at his lips for a beat before returning the kiss. It was soft and quick cause you didn't want to delve too fast and make it feel like a reward.

“I'll see you around,” you offered. That's the best you could do for now.

#shane walsh #shane walsh x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #fanfiction #smut #angst #pregnant reader #spanish reader #darlingwrites

[valynne]

my house would miss you (and so would i)

pairing(s). finnick odair x gn victor! reader word count. 2.2k description. your porch swing in the victors village has always been your favourite place to watch the ocean and her troubles. the ocean has always loved watching a gentle love story from her shore.

content. reader never wears their shoes (loves their skirt tho), gentle love, trauma from the hunger games, death of childhood, mentions of murder

a/n. i finished work not even half an hour ago and had the beautiful idea that is this fic while walking back along the beach while it rained <3

The porch wood beneath your feet is scratchy, the salt weathered wood has splintered in places and the finish has peeled back with the years of use. The book in your hand sags into your lap as you lift your gaze to look through the grey and rusty iron bars of the Victors Village.

There had been a weather prediction earlier in the week that you had waved off, thinking little of the percentages and weird lines they used to indicate winds. Rain, gods above did you love rain.

You pull your feet up onto the cushioned porch swing. The wind makes the chair sway as you tuck your feet beneath your skirt, leaning further into the armrest as you slot your bookmark between the pages that you were sure you had just been rereading for 3 minutes.

You strain your eyes to see over the fence of the village, to catch a glimpse of the waves lapping at the shore. For someone who grew up around the smell of the ocean you would never get tired of it; the smell of fish from upwind, the sight of the waves and the sun melding at the beginning and end of each day, the water lapping at your calves on especially hot afternoons, the spray of the brine during storms.

You missed it during your games, good lord did you miss it. You had been clutching your knife to your chest and praying with the power of every kind deed you had done that it was a fishing rod instead. That the blood under your nails was from deboning fish and scrapping their scales off. That the nasty scars that run along your shoulder and back had been from a boat propeller and not a particularly cruel Career girl. You had cried when you won, an ugly howling as you sat astride the body of the last tribute. During the interviews he had been strong, his cheeks full of muscle and fat and his eyes gleaming with a knowing type of jollity. You had seen him during the Last Feast, he was as gaunt as you were, he looked fearful and starving. During the last few minutes of your Games though, his dark hair was matted with mud and his cheeks were swollen with blood as rain ran in rivulets in the cuts on his soft skin.

Finnick had told you the doctors that fixed you up when you won had to realign all four knuckles on your right hand, and entirely replace one on your left. He said that the Capitol had gone crazy when you chose to use your hands instead of a weapon. Had applauded so loudly when you knocked his weapon, Terce Steelbrand from District 2, from his hands and brought blow-after-blow down on his face. The canon had gone off before you stopped, way before you had. It was gruesome, bloody, and foul and gut-wrenching. You had beaten a boy a year older than you to his death.

“You alright?” You shudder slightly as you turn to the sandy haired man, a gentle smile spreading across your lips as you pat the seat beside you.

“Yeah.”

He hums as he stands at the threshold of the house, the creaky door squeaking as he weighs his options. He chooses you; he always does. The seat creaks as he adds his weight to the chains load, swinging his feet as he pulls your legs over his lap. He makes sure to tuck your long skirt under your feet, the way you like too.

“What were you doing out here?” He traces a gentle finger over the patterns of your skirt, the other arm sitting over the back of the chair.

“Was readin’ but… I couldn’t.” You glance over at him. “Realised it was gonna rain just before.”

“Mmm, I think you should be a weather reporter.”

You try and force the smile that licks at your lips away, but you can’t help it as you decide to glare at Finnick. It’s a half-assed glare; it’s hard to be angry at the Finnick Odair.

You sit silently for a moment, just taking in his features. The gentle slope of his nose, the angle of his cheeks littered in tiny freckles you could spend an entire afternoon kissing, and his eyes. Those eyes that stare back at you fondly, gently. You never feel scrutinised under those sea-green eyes —never feel small like under the gaze of the Capitol— you could compare being stared at by Finnick with feeling the sun on your skin after a sleepless night.

“What’re you staring at?” His voice feels like having silk dragged along your ears. You can’t look at him anymore —not with that look swelling in those sweet eyes of his— you opt to watch his thumb work circles into your skirt-clad calf.

“You were looking first, Fin.” Your hand drifts to rest on his forearm, thumb brushing over a burn scar. The aftermath of a small cooking incident weeks ago.

“Oh, was I now?” You can see him through your lashes. Can see the way he peers down at the fingers that brush along the warm skin of his forearm. “I didn’t even realise.”

“Mhmm.” You smile a soft little thing. Fingers finding the dip of another scar. You’d accidentally scratched him when you were on your Victory Tour. There had been an accompanying bruise on his jaw, but it had long since faded. A nightmare you can’t even remember now, woke you up screaming bloody murder. Finnick had run in and tried to settle you, and you were still high on adrenaline with one thought in mind. Survival.

There’s a rumble of thunder in the distance, a streak brightening the sky and showing heavy rain clouds. You can hear the raindrops before you see them. They’re hitting the roof of your Victors house, pattering gently on the dark roof as it begins building. You can barely bring yourself together as the man beside you begins speaking.

“Y’know, I thought we could do some shopping today, your pantry’s looking empty. Maybe coffee and flo–”

“You.” He stops speaking, the word dying on the tip of his tongue.

Your eyes drift back up to him, his brows furrow as you meet his gaze head-on. Before he can ask what you mean by it, your hand dances up his arm. You slide your legs out of his lap and curl your toes up as they hit the grainy wood. You hook your fingers into the crook of his elbow and pull him up. He doesn’t waver at all as he stands, following you mindlessly. You take a step towards the stairs as you stare at him. Both hands drifting down to hold his wrist and tangle loosely with his calloused fingers. Line work hasn’t been very kind, but he insists on it. Something about not wanting you to cut yourself.

The wind catches in his hair, making the messy strands and his loose pyjama shirt flutter as you make your way down the sandy cement pathway of Victors Village. He doesn’t say anything but you can feel the trust he has with the way he squeezes your hand every so often.

You sigh and grin something toothy as you feel the raindrops grow heavier as you move faster. “C’mon, Fin.”

“I’m coming.”

As you finally pass the daunting iron bars of the Villages gates the gentle droplets have turned into heavy downpour. You can barely hear them hit the ground over the push-and-pull of the sea, it’s bliss. District 4 hasn’t been taken out of you, there’s no way it could be.

You only look back at Finnick when you reach the dune that separates you both from the waves, and it is a sight. His hair’s damp and random curls stick to his forehead as he comes to a stop with you. You wait for him to toe off his shoes before you’re letting your hand slip from his and you’re running messily down the sand hill. Wet strands of hair slap you in the face as you run, sticking to your cheek as the rain begins doubling down. Flashes of thunder lighting up the dark morning sky. You take a quick tumble that brings you to the bottom of the dune, you hear a call of your name from the top but you’re unaffected.

You roll onto your stomach and rub the sand off your tongue and off your brow.

You laugh, openly and unabashedly. Something you used to do before the Games. When young 13-year-old you would race to the ocean with your friends. Or when your father brought home a tire and a rope to hang on the tree in your backyard. Sticky hot summer days.

You push up and spin to look up at Finnick who’s taking clumsy steps down the dune to reach you. You smile up at him wickedly, and he see’s it. A wash of relief easing his features as he exhales slightly. There’s rivulets of water forming on his cheeks, they nearly look like tears but the look in his eyes is far from sad.

It’s easier to run on wet sand you find —a memory unlocked after so long, you remember running from bullies on a rainy day, this is different—your feet slap the sand as you run from Finnick. You come skidding to a stop just before the oceans foam, your skirt clinging to your legs as you breathe deeply. Flicks of brine mixing with rain water on your cheeks. Cutting clean paths through the grit of sand.

You spin to look at Finnick again, but not even halfway turned and you’re swooped off your feet. Skirt slapping your calves as the man in question swings you. Arms constricted around your middle as he spins with the momentum of his catch.

You squeal, a hand threading through his wet hair and the other looping around his neck.

You gape down at him, incredulous. “Finnick!”

As he echoes your name back to you he mimics a fake accent in the back of his throat, something posh. A new Capitol accent maybe?

“Put me down!” He adjusts his hold on you, a large hand splaying between your shoulder blades. “Down Finnick!”

He smiles up at you as he brings you both to a stand still, his hands keeping you close. The rain drenching you both, running rivers between the both of your chests. “No.”

He has a toothy grin on his face as he stares up at you. Something that makes your heart constrict, swelling in those sea-green eyes. You can’t help yourself, not with the way he’s holding you so gently.

Your lips fall on the arch of his brow, you lean fully into his touch. Your lips skate down his face and find the apple of his cheek. He grins, widely and wildly. You hook your legs over his hips as you press another to the tip of his nose. Your hand moving to stroke his cheek and the other holding the side of his throat. Your thumb brushing over his adam’s apple that bobs as you press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

You pull back, eyes meeting his as you look down at him through droplets of rain that settle on your lashes.

“Finnick.” Your throat feels tight as you wait for him to react or say something, rejection or something softer. What you’re praying for.

His hand finds the back of your head as he pulls your foreheads together, his eyes are far too beautiful this close up. Everything about him is just–

You’re interrupted from the thought as they flutter shut and his lips meet yours. You immediately melt into it, your hands holding his face as you press yourself further into him. His lips are far too soft to be normal but you love it. You pull away for not a second to get air before he’s pulling you back in. Like he’s been starved of it for years, like he needs you more than breathing. And the thought of him needing you so badly, so desperately has your pulse fluttering and your heart beating harder.

Your heart swells and you feel tears gather behind your lids. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips. The kiss turns clumsy as his teeth clack against yours, you can’t help the soft giggle. You can feel his lip curl up against yours as you’re both smiling now. Breathing each others air as you rest your foreheads together.

There’s a crack of lightning that illuminates his face, colours his face in a white glow.

“I love you.” You’re breathless as you say it, eyes searching his desperately.

He echoes your words in the most heart-wrenching whisper, his thumb smoothing over your jaw. As he stares up at you.

There’s a tear that drips from his waterline, mingling with the droplets of salt water and the rain on his tanned cheeks. You press another kiss to his upper lip, bumping your nose against his as you do so.

Something about kissing Finnick in torrential downpour beside the strand of beach you grew up on —it feels right— makes your fingers tremble and your bones ache.

You think of the ocean and him, of the salt clinging to your lips, as you dive back to kiss him again.

#hunger games #district 4 #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #he's my everything #finnick odair you sweet thing #the hunger games #trauma galore #the capitol #a ballad of songbirds and snakes #snow when i catch you

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Beach Body Swap 2

"Are you ready for this?"

"I sure hope so, I'm a little nervous to be honest."

"It's ok. I'll be there for you…just like 20 feet away or so."

I threw on a pair of khaki shorts, my sandals, and headed out the door. Luckily I lived in a condo right next to the beach so I didn't have to walk very far. It was nearly noon - the time we planned to meet up.

2 years ago, I was a college sophomore stuck in a fraternity with asshole frat brothers. That was until I met this weird old man at the beach. He swapped our bodies and I was thrust into his fat beach bod. It wasn't the worst thing ever, though. He was working on pumping his nipples and with how sensitive they were, I discovered what a nipple orgasm felt like. It was crazy good! Since then I continued what he started, and had been pumping my nipples every day. They're huge now! I go for that nipple orgasm all the time. I love it!

But I was still a fat old man for the next 2 years so that did a number on my self esteem at first. I had a whole six pack abs before, along with a perfect body, so nothing I did could compare to that. But I made a few changes that were more my style. I got my ear pierced and grew a goatee. Afterall, old guys really only look good with facial hair. I was balding too so I decided to shave my head entirely, as well as razor it so I could be fully bald.

The one thing I didn't account for was how fat this guy was. He was already pretty chubby when I initially swapped, but I was happy to be free of my strict diet plan. I know I wouldn't look as good as I did before no matter how much I exercised or ate right, so I just stuck with how I was. It wasn't until a month or so that I realized he must've been working out prior to the swap because I noticed an increased weight gain. I still didn't care though, and just let myself go. I went from borderline obese to full on obese. My man tits ended up hanging out a little more and my gut drooped a little lower. My overall body was wider and soon enough I found myself waddling instead of walking.

But none of that mattered in the end because a couple of months after the swap, I met Chase. I decided to go to the bar one day, after finally gaining the confidence to do so. He approached and complimented me on my looks, which surprised me. I guess he had a thing for big guys. We talked a bit and I fell in love with him soon after that. When I told him who I actually was, he believed me right away. I guess with how quirky he is, he's the type that knows everything isn't what it seems.

Since the old man took over my life, I took over his. He was retired and didn't have much going for him, except this sweet condo right next to the beach. It had a king size bed, where Chase and I fucked for the first time. I'm gonna miss this place actually; it was nice. The old man called me a few days ago, scheduling the time for the swap back at noon today. I don't know how he did it originally so I asked Chase to spy on us from a short distance away to see what actually happens - and to make sure he doesn't bail!

We walked outside the condo and hugged one last time, his skinny frame being smothered by my flabby rolls.

"Good luck Ty! I love you!"

"Love you too!"

We split off and I stood around waiting for somebody that looked like me to appear. He said he would wear the same swimsuit he wore 2 years ago - the blue one. I couldn't wait to see how it all went. He thought he could do a better job at standing up to my fraternity brothers and giving me a better reputation so I hope he kept his word! It'll definitely be a weird feeling, returning back to my old life. But he would've graduated for me by now, so at least I don't have to see those idiot frat brothers anymore. And I had Chase of course! He said he would love me no matter what I looked like.

I was looking in the direction of the ocean when I spotted someone wearing the swimsuit I was looking for. I waddled closer to him, and realized that it was my old body. Something was different though - he gained weight! Alot of weight to be exact. My abs were completely gone! Sure he was far from obese, but his belly stuck out and the pecs I once had were soft and fleshy. It looked like he kept my basic appearance the same though, with the exception of a little chin beard. It was weird though, I recognized him for sure, but I didn't really feel like he used to be me. It'd been such a long time that I no longer associated his body with my identity.

"Hey!"

"Hey yourself! How have you been?"

"I suppose it wasn't that bad. That nipple orgasm is something else."

"I can see that. You've been pumping them, haven't you?"

"Yep."

"Good. Good."

"So how did you gain weight that fast? The fraternity would've kicked you out with the slightest bit of fat, but you must've ditched them only a few months ago." His face dropped.

"Well…"

"Well?" No..don't tell me…

"I uh kinda got kicked out…2 years ago."

"What? What the fuck did you do?"

"I tried to be assertive and well, I guess I was more like aggressive. Got into a fight and they kicked me out. Geez, young people are so sensitive now!" I was in disbelief. He didn't improve my life at all, he ruined it!

"Did you…at least graduate?" Please say yes; oh my god.

"Er..no. I kinda just dropped out after that. College is hard!"

"What have you been doing the past 2 years then?!"

"Just getting by really - working, sleeping, jacking off. What I was really doing before. Well, actually I lost my job a few weeks ago."

I can't believe this. What am I going to do once I go back? I'm a college dropout, unemployed, and I can't even use my fit body to do modeling or anything! I didn't want him to know how upset I was in fear he wouldn't swap us back, so I swallowed my anger and changed the subject.

"Well, I guess we better swap then. How did you do it last time?"

"Simple spell. Just lay down and close your eyes." I slowly lowered myself and plopped down on my ass, all my rolls jiggling with the impact. I then lied down for a minute. When I opened my eyes, I was looking at the same fleshy mountain I was used to. What gives? I got up and found the old man talking with Chase.

"That's my boyfriend and you need to swap him back!"

"Boyfriend huh? How the hell did he score with that gross body? I hadn't gotten anyone looking like this!" They noticed me as I waddled up to them.

"Ty, he doesn't want to do it."

"What do you mean?! Swap me back! We had a deal!"

"Sorry, I have something else in mind now." He put his hands on Chase and a white light began pulsating from his hands. Chase didn't respond and looked like he was in a trance. Don't tell me he's trying to swap their bodies?!

"Hey get off of him!" I tried pulling his hands off, but it was as if they were glued to Chase's shoulders.

"Don't even try!" I may have ruined my chances with your body but I can start all over with his!"

"Oh no you don't!" It seemed impossible to pull his hands off, but I kept trying anyway. Suddenly the white light flashed everywhere and his hands were forced off of Chase, as well as mine. When I opened my eyes, I looked down and once again, saw the same saggy belly I'd woken up to for the past 2 years.

"Well, nothing happened…"

"Speak for yourself!" Chase spoke excitedly. He was looking at his hands and rubbing his flat stomach. Shit. That wasn't him. Chase, now in my original body, and the old man, now in Chase's body, looked at each other.

"So that's what I really look like to everyone else. Wow."

"Well I best be going then!" The old man started walking away until I grabbed him and pulled him into a neck hold.

"Not this time! You're going to swap us back for real."

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" I released my grip.

"The spell only works twice. First for a regular swap, and then second for a swap back. It doesn't account for interruptions from a third."

"No way…I…"

"Ty. It's ok." Chase put his hand on my shoulder. "I like you like this. And I think I'll be fine. I'm as flabby as you…almost!" He slapped his belly and shook it up and down, admiring the jiggles. I guess the weight gain is turning him on.

"Yeah. I guess it's fine." He kissed me on the cheek.

"Take care you guys." It was weird seeing Chase's original body walk away from me but I know the real Chase was right here with me, safe and sound. I wonder what it would be like to have sex with your old body…

#strangemaleswaps #body swap #male body swap #male tf #weight gain #strangebeachbodswap

[chubbycelebs]

The Weight of Fame (part 3)

As the months went by, the pounds kept adding up. Harry had really gone from fit, toned and in shape to now a mound of lard. His abs had stretched into a belly, now extended so far over his crotch, it was impossible for him to see his own dick. His chest and thighs grew thicker and bigger, pushing the seams of his clothes. But even though Harry now has a huge hairy body, he loved it. The feeling of a tight stomach after stuffing his belly all day, clothes he used to love bursting off his jiggly belly. There wasn't anything that Harry missed about being skinny, because being fat was so much better.

One morning as Harry put on a shirt, not even bothering to button it up already knowing his belly would bust the buttons off, he became intreigued by his weight. He hadn't actually stepped on the scales since putting all this weight on. He knew in his peak he was about 150lbs but he was wondering how much he had gained since those days.

Harry pulled the scales out and stood and looked at them for a while. Did he want to put a number on his weight gain? Did he really want to know just how big he had gotten or would that make him self concious of his huge size. As Harry rubbed his gut, he decided to give his fat friend Louis a call.

Since their last long phone call, the two had kept in contact over messages. Harry Loved talking to Louis, not even about getting fat but just everyday things. In fact when he thought about it, the two had hardly bought up the fact they both had stuffed their bellies fat. Harry decided to call Louis over his concerns about his big gut. He pressed to face time and after a few seconds of waiting, he answered.

Harry on his screen, even though he was not showing off his belly, still looked very chubby, his cheeks and double chin were becoming very prominate. On the other hand however, Louis looked how he did when they were in the band. Harry thought that he must have gained mostly in the belly and not in the face.

"You're alright Harry!" Louis said smiling, very happy to see his chubby friend on screen again.

"Yeah I'm great thank you! I've been eating pretty well" Harry said with a chuckle, pointing the camera at his belly, giving his gut a shake. Louis laughed at this and blushed slightly but then his face dropped slightly. "Whats up?"

Louis looked down at this body and then pointed the camera down. Harry did not see a big bulbous stomach like his, instead Louis body had gone back to how it was back in the band. "I had to lose it all Harry. My PR team said that if I was to be fat when I release my album, I'll lose my sex appeal and this album can't flop. I'm sorry Harry." Harry didn't know what to say. Now every member of One Direction had released music apart from him and he was still a fat slob. "I'll probably gain it back one day Harry, don't worry. I enjoyed being fat like I said, I just need this to go well." Harry understood but couldn't help but be disappointed with the outcome. He hung up the phone and plopped him self on the sofa, eating a tub of ice cream. Harry sat there filling his belly up bigger and wondered if this would last. Can he really stay this big? Would he have to lose it like Louis did?

As he began to spiral he then thought, why is he worrying about that now? He is still not close to the album being done, he still doesn't need to see anyone in public yet, and he still had a few months left before his PR team would ask for his first solo project plans. In the moment Harry decided to give in, and get as big as he could. He didn't know if this could last a few months or years but he knew he wanted to get as huge as possible. And so Harry did just that.

Harry walked to the mirror and looked at himself the next morning. His unshaven face and long hair showed how little he cared for his appearance. He then lifted his shirt up to reveal his big hair belly. He stood and looked at his fat body in the mirror, still finding it hard to believe that he was really this big. He placed his hands on his gut, gave it a violent shake and said "Lets get you nice and big" with a final big slap as he went to the kitchen.

For the next few months Harry spent every waking moment filling his lard covered body with greasy fattening food. He was expanding from every direction, unstoppable endlessly stuffing his gut. And he loved it. The feeling of his body pushing further outwards, the constant jiggling and movement of the fat. If he could get bigger faster he would because he loved this feeling so much.

In between the stuffing and playing with him self, Harry was inspired to keep playing new music and descovering his sound. It seemed that the more he expanded the easier it was for him to make new music. It took the pressure off him when he sat down at the piano and could feel his belly pressed against it.

Harry had now grown out of his clothes apart from his grey sweats. Everyday he'd walk around just in his underwear or jogging bottoms if it was cold. His fat covered body kept the rest of his body warm. Its huge size made sure to keep his privates covered as well.

As the final month of his break began to come to a close, he was also finishing up his album and all the songs he wanted on it. He called his manager and arranged a meeting for the last week of the month. Harry didn't even think to warn his manager of his change in appearance. He had significantly changed since he was last seen by anyone. He had truly never even thought to get this big let alone actually get to this size. He was most defenatly obese if not morbidly. But Harry loved it. He felt so relaxed and happy with his body and comfortable with his lifestyle. This however was all about to change.

Sorry that this next part has taken so long to come out. I've been very busy over the last week or so but I hope to get this story done this week. I hope you guys are still enjoying this story and where it is going. The story will be taking a different turn in the next part so I hope you enjoy that. Thank you!

#fat #fatty #male weight gain #men getting fatter #fat men #cute belly #fat belly #fatboy #fit to fat #full belly #fatass #fat piggy #big fatty #fat guy #fat boy #big belies #hairy #getting bigger #bigger is better #sexy belly #beer belly #feedee belly #belly expansion #chubby #exjock #gut #fat gut #beer gut #bloated gut #gaining

[deathbecomesthem]

The Piano Man Continued

Part 1

It's Christmas, so I didn't even bother to proofread this. Or even give it a once over. My gift to myself. | 1.8K

We are opening with smut. This is a fem!reader. Eddie and this reader are both in their 40s, although it's not specifically mentioned.

You wake with your face pressed against warm skin, and a hand spread across your tit. Your body moves without your mind fully waking, urging you to swing a leg around the waist of your bedmate. Your nose registers whiskey and tobacco. You think, not Russ, and nuzzle your nose against the sparse hair in his chest.

It’s when you feel him throbbing against your thigh, and that hand on your breast begins to flex against the soft flesh, you realize he hasn’t told you his name. Or, not that you can remember. Last night was experienced through the strange fog of Christmas sadness and gin. It doesn’t matter, what’s in a name? You know the way he sounds when he goes over the cliff of ecstasy, that’s a special kind of familiarity that isn’t wrapped up in a word.

“Good morning,” his voice is full of gravel, but soft and kind. “Merry Christmas.”

You’d forgotten, and you huff at the reminder. Flashes of stockings and lights, roast beef and fruit cake, dance through your mind. It makes you hook your thighs tighter around him, and pull him closer to you. You don’t want words right now. He’s happy to oblige, scooping your body and easing you up to sit on his lap, body bared to this man laying underneath you.

The last few months with Russ had been full of self consciousness, small comments about the way the years have softened your body and made your curves more full. You looked in the mirror to see your breasts hang low, and the way the stretch marks grew long and slack. You had taken to wearing your bra those times you and Russ were intimate, those times that grew further and further apart until they finally stopped completely in those last two months.

This man under you is taking you in with sleepy eyes. His hands are grabbing the fat at your hips. They’re traveling to your sagging breasts and squeezing them gently with his wide palms. He’s pinching your nipples between his fingers, and opening his mouth to mirror the reaction on your face. You see nothing on his face that is etched with fine lines apart from the same desire you’re feeling in your gut.

You shift, and seat his cock fully inside yourself and shudder at the feeling. He keeps his hands at the valley of your breasts, stroking the soft skin with each slight rock of your hips. It’s slow and deep, the cool air in the hotel room creates a ripple of gooseflesh along your arms. You feel everything - the cold air contrasting against the heated skin where your bodies meet. The coarse hair of his thighs pressed against the bare skin of your calves. The curls that rub against your sensitive nub with each movement of your hips. 

It’s a combination of a deep grinding and your cunt clenching around him that results in you being flipped on your back with this man between your legs. His clever fingers take over while his cock leaks on your open thigh. He’s watching you, a thumb on your clit and fingers running against a spot that meets it on the inside of you, and you’re seeing stars. His salt and pepper curls are fading, and you’re gone. 

“Beautiful, beautiful,” he’s whispering into the room, almost to himself, while he holds his hand steady to work you through this moment, “I must have been a very good boy this year.”

You surprise yourself by asking, as he’s positioning his cock to enter you again while you’re still in that post orgasmic bliss, “Tell me your name.”

He hisses through his teeth after hard and deliberate thrusts place him snuggly inside of you again, “Eddie.”

You are chanting his name for him while he drives himself deeper and deeper until he rests his sweaty forehead on your shoulder and lets himself go with a satisfied moan. Music as sweet as those familiar songs from the night before. 

—

“I’m starving.” It’s the only thing on your mind, so you say it as soon as you catch your breath. Last night you were fueled by pretzels and martinis. 

“Yeah. There might still be bagels in the lobby.” Eddie reminds you, pointing lazily at the clock that reads 8:50. 

“As far as I can tell, we’re the only idiots left in this hotel. I say we raid the pantry and see what they’ve got down there.” You’re already up and getting dressed. For you, sex wakes up your body and brain, gets those juices flowing. Eddie rolls over and pulls the comforter up to his neck. “Come on, old man. Get your ass out of bed and maybe we’ll find ourselves back in it again later, hm?”

With a dramatic sigh, he rolls himself to a sitting position, giving you a full view of his back. In the morning light, you see scars and tattoos scattered across his pale skin. You resist the urge to crawl back into the bed so that you can run your fingers along the lines. You shake your head and throw on last night’s clothes, mentally promising yourself that you’ll stop back to your room for a fresh set on the way back up. 

You don’t even question it, you know last night will bleed into today. And Eddie’s giving you no signs of wanting you to leave him alone. So, you don’t. Neither of you do. You cling to each other at the end of the world - this snow trapped mountain hotel in The Berkshires of Western Massachusetts.

The two of you lumber down the carpeted hallway and to the elevator, stealing glances at each other along the way. It’s reminiscent of being with a crush when you were a teenager, and the thought of that lightens your load. There’s nothing to worry about right now, except for the rumble in your stomach. 

“We’ll need to be very sneaky,” Eddie says as he pushes the L button on the elevator panel, “Marcy works the morning shift, and she’s got that cane.”

“Well, I might not look like it, but I know how to fight. She’ll regret it if she tries to stop me from whatever canned peaches and fancy nuts a place like this buys in bulk.” You answer seriously. 

“Oh, I think we can do better than that. I saw Carl eating a Hungry Man dinner behind the bar the first night I was here. If we’re lucky, maybe there’s a turkey dinner in the freezer.”

Like absolute clowns, you and Eddie sneak around the wide open lobby. The elderly woman behind the counter, Marcy, pays no attention to your antics as you hide behind a pillar, and Eddie’s head peeks out from behind a plastic tree. He dramatically holds a finger to his lips, looks both ways, and jogs past the desk and towards the bar. You sigh, shake your head while waving politely at the woman behind the counter, and slowly follow the path that Eddie took.

When you push open the swinging door to enter the pantry/kitchen, you find Eddie already cracking open a large plastic container of Cheez Balls. You wonder why a hotel like this would have them, and decide it doesn’t matter. You start opening cabinets while Eddie turns his attention to the giant, stainless steel refrigerator at the other end of the long counter.

“Aha!” You’re overjoyed to find several cans of peaches, and start pulling them out one by one. Eddie is opening drawers, and loading his arms with a block of cheese and a bag of dinner rolls. “Find anything noteworthy, Eddie?”

“No Hungry Man, I’m sorry to say, but there is,” he holds up a plastic bag from behind the refrigerator door, “some carved turkey breast. I think we’re looking at a pretty decent Christmas meal, considering our situation.”

You don’t bother to head up to Eddie’s room after a maid came through the door and smiled at the two of you digging around in the cupboards. She told you both to take what you want, most of the food will end up going bad before the hotel can use it anyway. So, you both stand at the counter and fix turkey sandwiches and chat with each other for the first time. 

“I was on my way back to Indiana to spend the holiday with my uncle. I like taking my time through the mountains, hitting some of the scenery, ya know? The serpentine belt in my car went just as I was heading back to the highway. By the time I had a new one in, the snow was coming down heavy, and the highways were closing down.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m sorry that happened,” you tell him, sticking your finger into the can of peaches to fish out a piece of the slippery fruit, “I’m happy to have the company.”

“Yeah, Wayne, my uncle, said he’d head out to Boston next month instead. He’s been wanting to come out and see the city.” Eddie opens his mouth and waits for you to feed him a peach. His tongue laps up the sweet juice and he gives you a wicked grin.

“What part of Boston? I live in Sommerville, near Porter Square.” You’re gathering up your garbage, trying to hide the excitement that swelled up at knowing that Eddie is also living in Boston. 

“Davis Square.” He says, and he begins collecting his own garbage. He opens his mouth to add something, and closes it. And then he opens it again and says, “I’ll give you my number, if you want. Maybe we could get together when we finally make our escape from the middle of nowhere.”

You smile at him, and he smiles back. Relief sweeps across his features at the kindly reaction to his proposal. “Yes. I’d really like that, Eddie.”

You walk with him through the empty lobby and out into the winter landscape. It knocks your breath away for just a moment, seeing the way the snow has covered everything so completely. You’re able to walk in the middle of the street with Eddie, firm snow crunching under foot. There are a few tracks from snowmobiles, but otherwise the roads are untouched. It’s not as cold as you would have thought, and the sweater you’re wearing is sufficient. The snow is still falling down, more lightly than the previous day, and sunrays are sneaking through between the thinning clouds.

Eddie’s hand finds yours, and you’re suddenly 16 again. Your face heats up despite the cool air biting at your nose. As you make your way up over the small hill above the hotel, you spot a snowplow on the other side. It makes your stomach do a little flip, but then you remember - Eddie’s place is only a couple of train stops away from your own.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic

[arealphrooblem]

The Promise

Synopsis: An officer of the Empire makes an offer of marriage to his former friend, now a rebel and his enemy, to honor an old promise they had when they were street orphans.

The rebels he put in separate cells, spread across the detention block. He knew a daring rescue would be fronted by their friends — they were always making reckless stupid decisions,  risking the many for the sake of the few. But at least this way they would have to break into each cell separately. 

And they wouldn’t know who would be interrogated in what order. 

To be truthful, the antagonist did not care much for information. He captured this cell for one purpose only. The rest could rot or scatter or break free for all he cared. So long as he kept one rebel in particular. 

Seeing their face through the small grate in the door twisted something in his gut. It had changed so much in the intervening years — baby fat melted and hardened into sharp gaunt lines. Body grown into sinewy strength. Scars. 

But their eyes were still the same, wide and dark and kind. Expressive eyes that betrayed their every emotion. And their body still small and scrappy and dirty. 

So many things had changed since their days at orphaned street urchins, their paths diverged into wildly opposite directions. What used to be his only ally in the world had turned into his enemy and vice versa. 

Well that would change by the end of the day. Folding his emotions up carefully, tucking them away and smoothing his face into an apathetic mask, the antagonist took one silent breath and then stepped through the door into the interrogation room. 

The rebel sat at one side of the table, hands changed to a rung  in the middle, legs chained to the chair. He fought the slice of guilt at the sight of it. 

The shock of seeing him lit up the rebel’s eyes. He knew he looked much different than the last time they saw each other, wild hair combed back and tamed, skin spotless of dirt, body tall and strong in his uniform. Sometimes he didn’t even recognize his own self in the mirror. 

“Hello, old friend,” he said. 

“We haven’t been friends in a long time,” the rebel said, the accent he tried hard to banish singing through their voice. 

“True,” he acknowledged, though he never stopped considering them as such even as they blew up his ships, cut supply runs, drew more rebels to their cause. 

They stared at each other, drinking the other in. He could see the rebel struggling to hide the pain and yearning at the sight of him, but their eyes gave it away, as always. 

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” his friend said finally. They swallowed. “You will have to kill me.”

“I’m not interested in information,” he said. “And I’m not going to kill you.”

Wariness cross their face. “Then what do you want?”

“You,” he said simply. 

Then he pulled out the crisp folded paper from his pocket and slid it across the table. His friend gave him one more searching look before dipping their gaze to the paper. He watched in breathless anticipation as they took in the information. Then their gaze jerked abruptly back up, eyes sharp and glaring.  

“I don’t understand,” they said slowly. 

“It’s a marriage contract,” he replied. 

“I understand that. It’s the rest I don’t get. What do you want me to do with this?”

They were being deliberately obtuse but the antagonist was happy to spell it out for them. 

“I want you to marry me.”

The rebel had no answer to that. Only speechless, suspicious shock. 

“I know you don’t agree with my choices,” he said, “but I chose them to give us both a better life. I promised you that.   I went to look for you after basic training and you were gone. When I finally found you again . . .you were with them.”

They glared at him. “The Empire is the reason why we grew up starving on the streets with no parents. Of course I joined the people trying to eradicate it.”

“Eradicating the Empire is not going to eradicate tragedy. We could have been orphans either way. At least now I have no worries about where I will sleep next and when my next meal is coming.” He nodded at their ragged clothes. “Can you say the same?”

“I’d rather starve than get fat off of other people’s suffering.”

“Doesn’t that get old, starving?” he asked softly.  “Doesn’t it get old, never sleeping in the same place for long, never feeling safe, never knowing if you would survive the next day? Aren’t you tired of it?”

The rebel had no answer to that, biting  their lip against the sudden wetness in their eyes. Because he knew the answer. It’s what drove him into the Empire’s arms, knowing what they did to his people. And in basic training he slept all the way through the night without fear for the first time in his life. He felt full after dinner for the first time in his life. He could predict each day for the first time in his life. All things he would happily give his friend and they wouldn’t even have to work for it.

“Marry me and I will release you rebel friends in my cells. No muss, no fuss, no hair harmed on their heads.”

They were too noble to take the easy way out for themselves, but perhaps they would do it to save someone else. Make them feel like a martyr. Already he could see the wheels turning in their naked gaze. 

“Sleep on it,” he said, standing up. “I will expect your answer in the morning.”

The answer the next morning was yes. 

#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #my writing #not a prompt #writeblr #fantasci tumblr #the promise #marriage of convenience

[judgementdaysunshine]

Standing all alone

Pairing: Solo Sikoa x Fem reader

Description: You think you are alone but someone is by your side and it's the person you don't expect

Everything that had happened to you over these past two weeks was taking it's toll on you as you shake and try not to burst into sobs in your locker room. You just had your long awaited match against your former friend Roman Reigns having been in The Shield with him, Dean Ambrose, and Seth Rollins until the group split apart, you still had Dean even though he was in AEW but lost roman and seth feeling truly alone not being able to have real friends in the business and no matter how many times you were asked to join the Judgement Day you always said no having a gut feeling of something bad happening not just to you but to people you grew to care about over the last few years including Rey Mysterio, His son Dominik, Edge, Liv Morgan, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, Sasha Banks, and Solo Sikoa. You soon broke down into cries being muffled by covering your mouth swaying back and forth trying not to let your mask break as you sit on the bench in the room used for medical purposes and that you sleep on if your tired not hearing the footsteps in the hall or the figure that stops and watches your body shake as cries course through you that are still muffled by your hands, your heart stops and you jump feeling a hand on your shoulder turning to see solo who had a concerned look on his face that normally didn't show any type of emotion around anyone but also he moved your hand away and held one side of your face so gently as he sits next to you noticing as you turned to face him that the door was closed "Just let it out, it will only eat away at you even more if you don't". That was when the mask just shattered and you broke down not realizing that he had just grabbed and held you in his arms until you noticed the side of his face out of the corner of your eye as you slowly felt okay again wrapping your arms around him as a silent thank you but also not to let him leave until you pulled away seeing the look on his face you couldn't describe realizing just how close the two of you were, "I have stood alone for so long that it's how I've learned to live" he wipes your face and moves hair away as you looked each other in the eye "You don't have to be anymore, if you'll let me in and show you that I really care for and about you" you felt such tenderness and emotion in his voice that you couldn't say no slowly nodding as you lean your face in his palm until he was lightly kissing your cheek then your forehead before your kissing each other tenderly "I love you" you feel pure love as you melt in his arms "I love you baby".

#solo sikoa #wwe x reader #wwe #solo sikoa x reader

[galaxgay]

Couldn't stop thinking about the premise of This Post I made and decided to write a little drabble of Aziraphale being touch starved and Crowley not being quite ready for it:

It was a stormy night but Aziraphale and Crowley knew exactly how to pass the storm.

The two of them have spent the last 2 months catching up on 6000 years worth of affection- hand holding, hugs, kissing, cuddling- and boy, Aziraphale has never felt this way before.

They sat on the couch, lips pressed together. Crowley's hands cupped Aziraphale's face and Aziraphale's hands lay on Crowley's knees. Crowley was warm. He always was. Aziraphale could curl up in Crowley's embrace for the end of time if Crowley allowed. He felt giddy knowing all he would have to do was ask.

The feeling of Crowley's touch was a high he would never get over. So many songs and poems and books made sense now. The fact that Aziraphale went through his entire existence without touch was absurd to him now. He was never going back.

It was safety. It was soft. It was tenderly romantic.

But tonight, Aziraphale wanted just a little bit more.

His right hand slid up Crowley's thigh and stopped at his waist, the tips of his finger tips brushing skin under his shirt.

Crowley made a small little hum and pulled back the tiniest bit.

Aziraphale blushed, "Too much?"

"Bastard," the demon smirked in response.

That sent Aziraphale reeling. Sometimes Crowley's teasing was too much, but other times, it was like chucking a log on the fire.

Aziraphale snorted with amusement and pressed their lips together once again. His chest feeling light and jittery. The air turned from romantic to something a little bit more like their first few kisses- new and electric. Aziraphales entire body buzzed. The sound of another small hum from Crowley told him he felt the same.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to do it, maybe Crowley's comment or his humming reassurance, but he pulled back but only to kiss his cheek, then his jaw, and continued the line down to the crook of Crowley's neck.

Aziraphale was thankful for once Crowley wasn't wearing a turtleneck. He pressed sweet little kisses there, nothing too risqué. Each kiss a small ask for reassurance.

"Aziraphale," Crowley's breath hitched. He pushed slightly against him, "Angel, you're going too fast for me."

The angel sat back, an embarrassed blush settling over his cheekbones. He wasn't sure when Crowley was going to let that go.

"Can you not tease me about that now?" Aziraphale's face twisted into a playful yet somewhat serious frown as he pulled away.

But when he met Crowley's eyes, he saw no teasing nor any smug smile. Sincerity laid in his eyes.

"I'm-" a deep blush grew on Crowley's face, "I'm not teasing. This is just a little too much for me."

Guilt settled in on Aziraphale's gut, "Oh darling, I'm sorry." He gave the inside of Crowley's hand a quick peck, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I misread the moment."

Crowley turned slightly away from Aziraphale, a small unsure smile on his lips, "It's okay, you didn't. I thought I was ready." He sat back, "Can we just..." He huffed, "Can we just stick to kissing for now?"

Aziraphale nodded, pulling his hand back from Crowkeys hip, trying to give him a little space, "Of course, dear. Was my hand too much?"

Crowley nodded and shrugged, "no." he peeped.

There was a silent pause between them. The air between them had shifted. Not uncomfortable but it was definitely time for a break.

"Why don't we watch that movie Muriel mentioned?" Aziraphale lifted his hand to slowly stroke the stray hair that had fallen onto Crowley's face.

Crowley nodded before leaning forward and giving Aziraphale a long deep kiss. It was almost enough to get Aziraphale right back into the mood but just as soon as it started, Crowley pulled away again.

"You grab the movie, I'll make the cocoa." He gave Aziraphale one last look before heading upstairs to the kitchen.

Aziraphales eyes followed him and his slinky hips until they couldn't any longer. He had no idea it was possible to be this in love.

There was no sadness or frustration in the shift in activity. After 6000 years, and an eternity to go, Aziraphale wasn't worried. They had all the time in the world. Nothing could stop him from being in love and enjoying it.

#please dont judge me #kinda self conscious #but also them #yk? #good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #aziraphale #crowley

[avatar-of-procrastination]

MERCENARIES

Summary : after many years, you finally come to terms with marcs death, only to find find a familiar face on the streets

Pairings : Marc Spector x mercenary!Reader , mentions of Steven and Khonshu

A.N + Warnings : something i wrote because i love the idea of marc and a mercenary reader. I wrote this fic with as much knowledge of DID i gathered from the show and few websites. Please lmk if i write something wrong. I will remove/change it asap. I dont mean to disrespect anyone.

Divider by @firefly-graphics <33 + gifs not mine

You refused to believe that it was him standing in front of you, after all these years. Marc Spector, your partner, one of the best mercenaries you had the privilege to work with (and coincidentally the man you had a crush on) had died years ago. At least that's what you had heard and believed until now. You were broken hearted when you heard the news and went AWOL for moths. Seeing him standing in front of you made you certain that you had finally lost it.

You remembered that day clearly. You were at the small apartment you called home, calling every possible contact in your phone to get a hold of Marc. You knew he had a mission in Egypt but that was 3 months ago. Most missions only took a few weeks because no one could let their identity slip up. You fiddled with the Rubik's cube Marc bought for you when you finally landed a hold of his boss who informed you that Marc Spector had died in the sands of Egypt. The phone slipped from your hand as you tried to control the sobs that left you. You never had actually thought of the possibility of Marc dying. He was always vigilant and alert. The news of his death shattered you. 

And yet, here he was, in the flesh, in front of you. You noticed that he grew out his hair and that it matched his perfectly sculpted face. You were sure you were dreaming until you heard him call out your name. All at once you felt yourself transported to the late nights the two of you would spend under the moonlight, drinking and laughing without a care in the world. You had tried to confess to him many a times but always stopped yourself, fearing he didn't like you in the same way. You snapped back to reality when you felt a warm hand touch your shoulder. You jerked away from him, anger seeping through every cell in your body. You pushed him away, causing a few of the people in the street to look at you.

"Y/N!" Marc called out. You ignored him and the tears in your eyes as you continued to walk away from him. He walked behind you, hurt by your reactions, still calling out your name.

He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into an alleyway and you almost kicked him in the face. "What is it, Spector." Your voice was laced with anger and venom. You never called him by his last name. You only did it to people you absolutely despised.

"Please. I need your help."

You simply scoffed at him and rolled your eyes. You couldn't help it. He was alive. You knew the rational reaction should've been happiness that he was in front of you. But all you could feel was hatred, hurt and betrayal. The fact that he was alive for all these years and only thought of reaching out for you, the one who helped him get up on his feet after he was discharged from the Army, when he needed some help.

"Why should I help you?" Marc looked around nervously, as if something would attack him any moment. He pulled you deeper into the alleyway and explained everything that happened after the mission in Cairo. Khonshu, the Moon Knight, Harrow, Layla and his mothers death. The mention of his wife was like a blow to your guts. Your eyes watered but you turned away, determined to not let him know just how much you were hurting. 

"Khonshu has been making me do his bidding, Y/N. And now my life is bleeding in with Stevens." You knew about the medical condition Marc had. You had never actually met Steven but Marc opened up to you about himself on one night.

You sighed, still livid at the man. He had already broken your heart once. You weren't sure if you could go through the memories of him all over again. But one look at the man in front of you, you realized he was just as broken as you were, eyes heavy and glossed over, you knew you'd do everything to help him.

"What exactly do you want me to do, Marc?" He perked up a little bit when he heard his name roll out of your mouth. Oh he could kiss you for eternity. But he stopped himself, instead opting to hug you tightly. You melted into his touch and breathed in his scent. You felt safe around him, a feeling he reciprocated. He pulled back lightly.

"I need you to keep an eye out on Steven, Y/N. He works in a gift shop in a museum. Recently, I switched in the middle of a fight and he was scared shitless. I don't want him to know about Khonshu and Moon Knight. He already thinks hes going crazy and I don't want him to hurt himself. Please."

You slowly nodded your head agreeing to help the man you loved, blissfully unaware that in the course of the next few weeks, he'd manage to make you fall in love with him all over again.

#moonknight x reader #moon knight fanfic #marvel #x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector #mr knight #moonknight #moon knight series #khonshu #marc spector angst #marc spector x you #marc spector x gender neutral reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x reader #mcu moon knight #moon knight #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mercenaries #Mercenary reader

[starlightingsss]

sparks fly / 1

sparks flew as she smiled. 2

haymitch x reader fic , eeekkkk i love him smmm !! escort is unnamed here bcs idk who was before effie, literally shitting on and slandering the district partner sooo !! long ass part btwww

as they gathered for the reaping - her last reaping - anxiety seemed to buzz in the air. she was 18, turning 19 in a few days, unlucky really. with her birthday falling on the week after the reaping, she was probably the oldest in there. the girls were dressed in their best dresses, she saw some really pretty ones but she still felt hers was the best. her dress was handstitched and embroidered by her, a blue satin dress with lace and embroidered flowers. the dress took her days, considering how delicate the satin was and how detailed the flowers were.

on this day, she was truly beautiful. the sun shone into her beautiful (e/c) eyes that seemed to glow at that moment, with the deep colors swirling and the little chunks of gold that seemed to just float. the sun shone on her (s/c) skin, reflecting off of it as if there was glitter. her features fitting themselves perfectly and beautifully as she walked in the street, people waved at the familiar beauty who grew up around them. as she walked hand in hand with her little sister to the reaping area, along with dozens of other kids.

they filed into the stands as she looked around admiring people's dresses, she saw a very pretty white sundress with puffed out sleeves and a woman with flowers braided into her hair.

as everyone stood there in anticipation, waiting for everyone to finish flowing into the large auditorium-like area.

"y/n .. what if its me this year?" liriel said, as her eyes filled with tears.

"sweet girl if they pull your name i'll volunteer." the woman said this without hesitation, knowing that the moment she did hear her name - or if she heard a name of a 12 year old - her arm would go up and the "magic" words would slip out of her mouth, sending her to her near death.

she knew that liriel wouldn't want her to volunteer but she knew she had a better chance at surviving in the arena either way. their chances were both slim but the woman was smart and resourceful, her body never really needed much food so it would never be an issue. her knowledge of poisons and herbal medicine was almost guaranteed to be unmatched amongst the tributes today, she knew how to make the most of the most simple things and that would probably save her life in the arena. she was small and fast, her frame probably letting her fit into many hiding spaces and holes, light enough to be able to scale the tallest trees.

as she was lost in her own thoughts, the escort on the stage started her speech, just some stuff about the hunger games. nothing important, but she was listening. waiting for the names to be called. she had this odd feeling in her gut, not something she had felt before but it wasn't dread. it wasn't pleasant either, it seemed to be acceptance. the woman had been able to put a smile onto her face for the very first time at a reaping, unsure of why. though this would be silly , she seemed to know her fate was already decided. she was going to be in the games this year.

and she was right, as the escorts shrill voice called out "y/n l/n", her little sisters tears and sobs filled her ears but still - she couldn't help but smile. this feeling of euphoria filling her senses and mind, and the smile on her face growing as she moved through the rows with "sorry"s and "excuse me"s, her escort was gorgeous, and the drunk stumbling on stage was even more so gorgeous, his blue eyes captivating, his rough beard adding this charm to his face. his features fit beautifully together, almost as beautiful as hers. she couldn't hear anything except the "cheers" of the district, a smile continuing to light up her pretty features as she imagined what it would be like in the capital.

the feeling she was feeling could only be described as euphoria, the freedom and happiness she felt unmatched to anything she felt in her life. her vision finally unclouded as she saw the world for its magnificent beauty. she gracefully walked onto stage, almost floating. she wasn't sure what this high she was feeling was but it was beautiful, and it made her feel more beautiful than she already was.

as she reached the stage, she shook hands with the escort, letting out a compliment directed to her hair. the escort smiled and thanked the girl, before turning and drawing a boy from the reaping bowl now.

the name basil thornehawk was boomed out into the mic, the ugly man making his way up to the stage. around the same age as y/n, but nowhere near as beautiful. his features contrasted themselves making him look like something in between a troll and an ogre. the girl herself wasn't tall but that man was short and disgusting. he looked like the kind of man who could only read at a 3rd grade level - and considering the general disregard for education in their district, saying 3rd grade was generous. but it was ok, she was gorgeous enough for both of them.

as they were led to the justice building, the say bye to their loved ones and board the train - her sister came in.

"y-y/n please you can't go .. please i need you .. i cant live by myself .. i- i don't know anything" she sobbed this out, as she hugged her sisters chest.

"awh it's ok, it doesn't really matter hon, you'll be fine, ok? i'll ask haymitch to make sure you're not starving n everything n it'll be finee" she said this as she patted the young girls head, oddly relaxed and optimistic in the face of this situation.

as the peacemakers tore the girl out of her arms, she seemed to still be smiling. the one on the left was a redhead, locks of his long hair sticking out of his mask, you could tell he had a fitter physique, he probably hot. the one on the left though, seemed older. he had a beer belly and reminded her of the men in the bar, she believes she's seen him before. he was quite handsome without his mask. she went with them willingly, following them down to the train station.

once she boarded the train, she examined the compartments. with luxury surrounding her, she felt like a princess.. a queen even. as she looked around, she saw the mahogany tables, the gold lined ceilings, the chandeliers, the fancy tiles on the roof, heads of animals hung on wall, porcelain vases with the prettiest designs on them, even a porcelain doll was on display. that doll something she was commonly associated with, "you look like a porcelain doll .. you're just gorgeous", a common comment she received. people calling her doll and dollface was something she was used to. the woman seemed to stare at the compartment in awe, as she saw even the display of liquor seemed to be held in crystal bottles. a little princess surrounded in luxury being sent to her imminent death, reminding her deeply of the story of marie antoinette, the magnificent and excessive former queen of france - the last queen of france, her spending having thrown the country off the rails.

the smile still lighting her face as she was forced to stand next to her dreadfully hideous district partner. she remembered him from the district when she waitressed in the bars and after her little "stunt" (his words) in the alley with the other even more dreadful man, he had mocked her for quitting her job. mocked her for how she did her hair and makeup, how she fiddled with the hem of her dress, how she loved flowers and indulged herself with naps in the meadow, he mocked her for her figure, mocked her for her face. he laughed at her eyes, how they seemed to be too deep, how he laughed at her when she was upset at attention from crude men, how he told her she was asking for it, telling her she was a whore and a slut. the man hated her deep in his soul, and she knew exactly why. as a waitress, she took tips, and the boy's dad was one of the more regular people at the bar. he tipped big, always giving her hundreds. too big for the people in the seam, where he lived. his dad had been giving away his salary to her, and his wife found out, causing her to demand a divorce. for splitting his parents, he always blamed her.

she sat down with a smile on her face, a little too close to her district partner for her own good, but she was happy. in that moment and in that hour, she was incomparably happy. she would get to remeet the man she had been lusting after for years, her savior and now mentor. maybe he would get the chance to save her again and maybe she could actually help him this time. her thoughts wandered as she looked into empty space dreamily, a smile on her face.

"stupid bitch" was something she heard from her district partner, the words not reaching her or bothering her. she was in her own little world, dreaming more than she should be able to in her pretty little head.

she was quickly snapped out of it, when her escort spoke.

"so pretty ! dear god you could be a model in the capitol ... i'm so excited to see what they do with you this year, darling!" her escort squeaked out, admiring the woman who seemed lost in her own head.

the woman was snapped out of her daydreaming state as she held the smile on her face, "you really think so? ive always wanted to be a model!", the excitement evident in her voice, beauty truly oozing out of her pores, as she seemed to glow.

"oh dear yes! those eyes ... that body .. those legs, honey! you could become a swimsuit model .. or maybe high fashion with that face .. so beautiful , unforgettable .. perfect." her escort seemed to be truly entranced with her, "i really hope they don't put you in those dreadful coal mining outfits again .. would really dull your shine!"

"oh those ... yea they suck but i remember once i saw this really pretty girl and she absolutely rocked it" the woman said this with such a smile on her face, as she seemed to dream.

"you're perfect! the perfect tribute! even when i was on stage .. i saw you in the crowd and i just thought 'oh my god..'! so happy i picked you this year, perfect victor." the escort seemed to be delighted. "now i wonder where abernathy is .. let me go check the bar car! you deserve to meet your mentor!"

as her escort scurried off, the man next to her tsked.

"jesus everyones obsessed with you, cant you just be normal for once?." his annoyance obvious in his words, as if his words weren't harsh enough.

the woman just rolled her eyes, not wanting to deal with the aggressive man's anger.

she pulled out a little flip mirror, as she checked her face. smudging out her eyeliner a little, making it look like a more cat-eyed look in opposition to what she had before. she pinched her lips and cheeks, refreshing the reddish tint that was there this morning. she ran her fingers through her hair, taming it.

she didnt expect it as the man grabbed her mirror, smashing it on the floor - right as the mentor and escort walked in.

this enraged the woman - that mirror was expensive.

"why the hell would you do that!" she hissed out, her voice pitching up in anger. she let out a few "ughh"s as she examined her now shattered mirror.

"sweetheart ..." said a familiarly grumpy voice, haymitch abernathy. she perked up as she stood and went in front of the man, squeaking out an excited "hi!" as she hugged him.

he was shocked by her hug, he had already gone through multiple glasses of the amber liquor in his cup and seemed too drunk to deal with this burst of affection, so he just ignored her.

he grumbled, "someones excited..", as he moved past her sitting down in her previous spot, next to her troll faced district partner.

she followed him and sat down directly across from him, with wide eyes as she seemed to genuinely glow in his presence.

he furrowed his eyebrows as he saw the doe eyed girl staring at him like he was everything, " if i didnt know better , i'd say you're hopelessly in love with me", he said this, chuckling at his own joke, taking another sip of his alcohol. she continue looking at him like she was utterly mesmerized by just his rough movements and his scruffy face.

the woman just let out a little giggle at that, unsure what to say.

he chuckled again as he said, "well i don't think i'm gonna make any progress with her today .. so, how about you." he said this, prying his attention away from the lovestruck beauty sitting across from him. to her distaste, he was looking at the absolutely hideous short gremlin that broke her mirror.

the man seemed to be caught off guard, in the middle of his probably really mean thoughts about the prettiest girl he'd literally ever seen, "huh?"

"jesus, we really have no luck with our tributes this year." haymitch said this, rolling his eyes, "what questions do you have for me?"

"oh um i- i don't know? i guess .. how did you win your games?" the stupid troll of a man replied, even she could've come up with a better response than that.

"was just smart", haymitch said this, shrugging off the question, clearly unpleased with it. "sweetheart, how about you go refill my drink for me?", as he directed his attention back to her.

she let out an "oh!" before she grabbed his glass, got up and walked over to the bar cart, "whiskey on the rocks right?", her voice ringing out of the room.

"whatever you want as long as its hard, hon" was his reply to her, as he looked back to her district partner as she got him a drink.

"i-is there any like general advice for the arena?" the younger man asked, still completely befuddled on what to ask his mentor.

"don't start a fire, don't go to the cornucopia, don't mess with the careers, find shelter and water, food won't matter as much" haymitch said this, as he saw the girl walk back into the compartment, a smile on her face, as she held his glass in one hand with a bottle of whiskey in the other. he let out a "thank you, sweetheart" as he flashed her a smile. she sat down, as he looked back at her district partner, "anything else?"

"whats the best shelter you could find in the games?" the woman said, the question seeming to dawn on her during that moment.

"finally a decent question.." he said this sitting up, and sipping from his drink as he saw the two tributes anticipating an answer, "either find high ground or somewhere underground, avoid bein out in the open." he hesitated a little before continuing this part, "you ..", he said as he pointed a finger at the girl, "you're gonna stand out like a sore thumb in whatever arena they put you in, sweetheart .. too pretty for your own good. make sure you find somewhere out of sight, now.. it's getting quite late, you two are gonna need your energy for tomorrow." he said this, as he stood up, stumbling a little. the girl immediately followed his movements, supporting the drunk man.

"don't have to .. 'm not that drunk", he said this.

"its fine, i wanna help you" she said this, still holding him. her response drew out a chuckle from his mouth.

as they walked to his room, the woman seemed to be ecstatic about being able to "help" haymitch like this, as they arrived to the room. "you can go now, hon." he said as she tried to follow him into his room.

"mm i'll go later, after you fall asleep n everything" she said, a little too eager

"sweetheart , i have to shower first, we'll be stuck together for most of tomorrow" he grumbled, as he pinched her cheek. she frowned in an exaggerated way, making a face at him.

"at least let me walk you inside?" she said, as a smile bloomed onto her face.

"how could i say no to a face like that?" he drawled, a little sarcastic as he did let her lead him into his room where he stumbled into his shower by himself.

as he didn't hear her leaving, he called out a wary "hon i know you're still there.", and her response to that was a squeak as she was caught off guard from being called out, as she walked out of his room. he undressed as he stepped into his shower, wondering why she seemed so attached to him .. not that he minded. she was gorgeous but he also acknowledged he was letting his guard down with her a little too fast, though he wasn't sure how he could not do that ... the prettiest girl he'd ever met seemed to be running around to try and tend to his every need, pouring his liquor, clinging to his arm. as he wet his sandy locks, he pondered a question. would she be able to stay alive ... could he keep her alive?

as he finished up his shower, he still peeked out of the bathroom a little cautiously, as to make sure the little minx wasn't still in his room, waiting for him to finish his shower. he dressed himself in whatever he could find, not actually going to sleep.

he went back out to the main room in their compartment, stealing bottles of whiskey from the table. he continued drinking later into the night, not actually being able to fall asleep until the later hours of the morning. the pretty girl remained on his mind, as he tried to drown out the idea of her imminent death and lack of chance in the arena. she was gorgeous but she definitely didn't look very strong. he didn't think she was a fighter, and he wasn't quite sure what she was. definitely gorgeous, but still, he didn't know how her little brain worked .. usually he could see the gears turning in someone's head as they were about to think up a question or something for him, but for her there was nothing, she seemed - in the nicest way possible - stupid. he looked into her eyes and there didn't seem to be a single thought floating around her head sometimes, but he knew there was something. he knew she wasn't stupid, she survived. he knew of her story, her parents, her sister, her history. he knew of how she was forced into exploiting men for a living, and he knew she could do it well, with the prettiest face and prettiest body he had seen, her voice a soft melody that seemed to bless the ears of whoever heard it, her gentle touch and her perfectly timed words. he knew she wasn't a woman who let herself be distressed, but a woman who still preferred to not get her hands dirty - not a killer.

her magnetism and how genuinely attractive she was would surely get her sponsors, just seeing her face would make men throw money at her. she knew how to speak, how to hold herself, and how to completely capture an audience. she without a doubt knew her cards and she knew how to play them, but being beautiful wouldn't win her the hunger games.

he eventually fell asleep, a light sleep, plagued by nightmares.

eventually, she and haymitch were the first ones awake.

she had set the table, taking a job from the avox, and she did it well and happily. haymitch had walked out in the middle of it, watching her as she worked, she still had a smile on her face. he wasn't sure what she was smiling about but her smile was pretty - and very contagious. after a few minutes, she realized he was there, greeting him with a "hi! good morning, the table's almost set so you can eat!"

once she finished up with setting the table, they both sat down. the avox served food, placing it down on the table. he saw she was hesitant to take it, and he asked, "not hungry?"

"oh um no, not really .. we never really had much to eat at home so im kinda just accustomed to not eating much, you know how that is?" she said, with her seemingly eternal smile as she sipped her orange juice.

"most of the kids are excited to eat capitol food." he said to her, as he put marmalade on his toast.

"well i mean it does look pretty good, i just dont really feel like eating it." she said, trying to "justify" herself.

"dont have to explain anything to me, sweetheart, i just think you should try to eat a little, gonna need energy for today." he said, as he bit into his toast. the woman who in contrast hadn't eaten anything, and looked a little uncomfortable at the table. he wondered if it was him but he also saw a change in her demeanor from yesterday.

she swallowed, as she barely said, "thank you for caring .. i guess i'll have some ..." she hesitated as she scanned the table, trying to decide what she wanted some of, "i'll just take a piece of ham!", she exclaimed this as she did pick a piece, eating a bit.

haymitch furrowed his eyebrows a little, her behavior and demeanor strange at the moment. but he decided just to ignore it, focusing on his toast.

"haymitch?" she called his name out of nowhere, catching his attention, "what are we gonna do today? we should be getting off right?"

he swallowed his mouthful of toast, "they'll just go clean you up a bit, trim your hair and everything then they'll send you off to your stylists for the parade.. don't worry about it too much, it'll just be some cosmetic things, i told them not to mess with your hair."

"oh thank god. i swear i would've knocked someone out if they tried to cut my hair," she joked, laughing awkwardly.

he smiled at her, wiping some jam off his beard before sipping his "tea", and continuing to eat his toast. "haven't touched your ham", he made the observation flustering the girl a little.

"oh well i mean i just, i guess i'm just not really hungry at all" she said, a smile he could tell she was forcing.

"are you like this back in the district too or is it just with capital food?" he joked, as he was getting drunk.

"i've never really been fond of eating, sometimes i forget .. doesn't really matter though", she said this smiling at him again. as her attention was directed towards her district partner coming out of his room. she didn't like basil - at all - but he was still her partner, and she was still grateful for him relieving the building tension in the room. haymitch didn't acknowledge the boy as he sat down, the girl just smiled at him.

he quickly scooped food onto his plate, a huge pile of eggs, bacon, and toast. she was still just sitting there watching them eat, while sipping on her orange juice.

no one really made conversation, up until basil asked another question about the games, " why shouldn't i start a fire?" he said, contradicting what haymitch had told them the night before.

"you shouldn't start a fire because the smoke is gonna give away your location." haymitch replied unhappily with a little bit of annoyance in his tone, trying to enjoy his toast and not make conversation with the other man.

"well what if i'm cold?" the idiot responded, stuffing his face with his mountain of food.

"if you're cold, you can deal with it. if you're dead, you'll be even colder." haymitch snapped, his tone insinuating he was done with the conversation.

"well i'm just saying i mean , dont you need a fire to cook food and keep warm?" basil asked, not seeming to understand what haymitch's tone was pointing to.

"fires make smoke and smoke tells people where you are, unless you're allied with the whole fucking arena, you're gonna get hunted down in the first five minutes." haymitch snapped, taking a long sip of his "tea".

"but what about food?" basil asked, continuing to eat his pile of eggs and meat.

"forage? you forage. get berries, leaves, whatever you can find that's edible?" haymitch growled, his tone making fun of the mans idiocy, "sweetheart.." he called, as he turned to her, "could you fill this with something?"

"oh of course," she said with a smile, having been watching the exchange between the man and her mentor. she took the cup and walked away, into the bar car to get him a drink. she'd only seen him drink whiskey but she couldn't find any so she just filled the cup with vodka instead, the clear liquor reflecting her face for just a second.

"here.. i couldn't find any whiskey so i just got vodka." her tone was a little apologetic, not wanting to irritate the man anymore.

"its fine, gorgeous, i don't mind either." he mused, smiling at her for just a second before resuming his attention on the younger man.

"what if we don't know how to forage?" her district partner asked after the exchange between the mentor and the lady was finished.

"what if you don't know how to forage, i know she does." he said, "her dandelion marmalade is probably one of the best things i've tasted, especially with her lavender sourdough bread and almond milk."

she smiled at how he remembered the exact contents of the little thank you basket she gifted him, "thank you..", she mumbled, as a blush grew on her cheeks.

"well, it doesn't matter how good she is at foraging if she can't even stand up without almost passing out .. cant even stop starving herself in the capital" basil spat out as if the mention of her was something disgusting.

"excuse me?" she said, the anger evident on her face.

"you heard me." he scowled.

the glar she shot at the man was a look of offense as she looked over to haymitch to see if he was gonna do anything, only to find haymitch looking down and focusing on his toast - not wanting any bit of her anger.

the woman sat still for a second, taking in the situation, trying to imagine the outcome of what she was about to do.

as she realized, haymitch wouldn't lay a hand on her, and basil wouldn't fight back immediately, she was safe to do what she wanted.

and with that, she leaned across the table, her fist charging at the boys nose, making contact almost immediately- everything happening too fast for anyone to react. she herself, seemed shocked at what she had done, hearing a loud snap that she knew wasn't her first. she had broken his nose.

"jesus.." haymitch grumbled, as he realized what happened. he sat up and looked over at the boy, "ehh your nose is probably broken .. you'll be fine.", still generally not caring about it.

haymitch had partially expected her to do something, not that but something.

"well .. at least we know you can throw a punch." he remarked, filing the silence as basil whimpered and she looked at him with wide eyes - regret mixed with her tears.

"gotta be kidding me.." he scowled, seeing her tears fill her eyes, he sighed as he told her it was fine as her tears fell.

after a few minutes or so, after she stopped crying and basil stopped bleeding, haymitch broke the silence again.

"gonna need a refill, sweetheart", he managed to deliver, with a hicupp.

"of course.. " she sniffled, as regret seemed to etch her face.

he just waved her off, he didn't really blame her for her violent outburst, to be fair - if he didn't know better, and if he was a little younger, and he heard the man make that comment to her, it would've been haymitch launching himself across the table instead of the woman.

she came back with a refill of his drink, which he took a long sip from.

"now. you two are going to stop arguing, stop fighting, and let me eat my toast in peace. you-" he scowled this as he pointed at basil, "stop whining, and you-" he said, pointing at her. he hesitated before speaking, as if trying to think of something to tell her to do before he seemed to just give up, not being able to find a criticism for her "fix the crying thing, they'll destroy you in the arena if you're always sniffling like that."

haymitch had only a few minutes to finish his toast, because right as he did, their escort squealed out a "we're almost there! thats the capitol!", as she got up to look out the window, pointing it out.

the younger woman raced to the window to see, as her tears evaporated and the smile that never seemed to leave her face grew wider. as they passed through a tunnel and ended up in the train station, she saw hundreds of capitol citizens waiting for tribute trains.

the woman was in her own little world and she waved, blowing kisses and smiling at the citizens, her beauty causing them to go haywire with cheers they could hear even in the compartment, as people seemed to adore her, she smiled before blowing one final kiss and ducking under the window. a look in her eyes like she had just achieved every single dream in her world as she slumped on the sofa, she was beaming. euphoria evident on her face, she sat up to see haymitch with a smile just like hers (thought a bit of annoyance still etched on his face over the very unpeaceful breakfast he just had), her district partner with a look of hatred and disgust on his face, and her escort beaming just like her.

"really hope you win this year ! too pretty to die .." her escort muttered, as the train skidded to a stop.

they all stood up as she shuffled over to haymitch's side, clinging onto the arm that didn't have a drink in his hand.

haymitch huffed again, a little annoyed but not too upset. "you two are gonna be escorted to 2 different cars with your stylists, they'll work on your hair and stuff, then you'll be shipped off to clothing for the tribute parade later tonight."

"mm.. really sorry for what happened.." the woman nodded, seemingly once again looking up at him like a wide eyed baby, as if the disappearance of food and her district partner eased her.

"crowds gonna go insane if they see you coming out like this, sweetheart." he told her, ignoring her apology and taking a swig from his flask, letting out a hiccup.

she was odd when she was stressed once she was relaxed though, she was seemingly pleasant. smiles all over and seemingly overtaken by little daydreams. haymitch wanted to help her, wanted to see her walk out of the games victorious. he let his thoughts wander like that as they both exited the train, hand in hand, causing the crowd to go absolutely insane as he anticipated. he didn't make many media appearances and she was probably the prettiest tribute ever.

ummm this is around 6k words .. went a little crazy !! but i love writing for haymitch sooo

ewww u guys the personalities are so inconsistentttt mbbb

haymitch is so demeaning to her too so im planning to give them both some major character development where haymitch realizes shes not js some hot bimbo n starts respecting her cs she proves it

but then as he realizes that, she starts losing her mind as shes training / prepping where her mental state is super unstable, so shes gonna have like a psychotic break once she gets into the arena

#the hunger games #haymitch is my man #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch #haymitch #haymitch abernathy #my man is so fine #my man is going through it #my man my man my man #i love him #yummers #x reader #reader insert #haymitch abernathy x reader #female reader #not slow burn #maybe slow burn #slow burn #hunger games

[garbinge]

Never Okay

Opie Winston x OC Joanne Teller

From these August Prompts: Blinding & For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: Biker A/N: This is... dark and very sad and emotional. Totally get if no one wants to read this cause it's heavy (warnings below) but the story has been in my head and I just... let words hit paper. Again, I love writing for my Teller sister OC outside of her little multi chap I have.. this is an AU to my own fic, yet again. And an AU to canon in a way.

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Spoilers for series finale of SOA. Canon level mentions of suicide. Mentions of suicide, losing a sibling, murder, grief, angst, nightmares, tense, car/bike accidents, torment, trauma, self blame, not a happy or content ending.

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

The breeze was cold and felt eerie along her skin. It was late into the night and Joanne was standing in the middle of the highway. Her head turned to get a look at what was around her, where she was. 508. She knew the road well, too well honestly. Her head looked up ahead and saw the rocks that framed the edge of the road where her father’s initials were permanently marked as well as his soul. But what was she doing here? Why was she standing in the middle of the empty highway in the middle of the night? There was no sign of how she got there, no cars, no people, just her. Her head looked down and she noticed she was in one of Opie’s t-shirts, it was practically swimming on her, her feet were bare, no socks, no shoes. Before she could question any of that, she heard the rumbling of a motorcycle. Her eyes looked up, at first, expecting Opie to be coming to pick her up, explain what the fuck was happening, but it wasn’t him. She saw the bike that was now passing those tall mountained rocks, it was teal, a Tiffany blue to be more exact, the color she had told her father to paint the bike when she was younger. She felt the joy hitch in her throat as she recognized the person on the bike, even from far away. Her father. The smile on her face grew and she took a few steps forward as if that was going to bring her closer to him. Her voice called out while her hands waved. It felt so strange calling out to her father, it was something she hadn’t done in years because, well, JT was dead. Once her mind wrapped itself around that fact, that joyous feeling sunk back into her gut and the bike suddenly turned electric blue and the figure on the bike changed too. Joanne saw her brother, no helmet, smile on his face, and hands beginning to release the handlebars of the bike. Her heart dropped and she began running towards Jax, screaming, telling him to stop, begging, crying, she was so wrapped up in getting her brother’s attention that she didn’t notice the tractor trailer behind her. Her body turned and her hands moved up to shield herself from the blinding headlights, out of instinct she turned the opposite direction but was met with the same blinding light from Jax’s bike. Impulsively she crouched down and shielded herself as both vehicles drove directly at her. She felt two hands on either one of her shoulders and a whisper in her ear that sounded just like the two deceased men in her life. “It’s okay, Jo.” They both said at the same time and the chills that moved down her arms mixed with the noise of beeping and crashing sent her straight awake.

As she sat up in bed her hand moved to her chest in an attempt to slow its rapid beating and catch her breath. It was a dream. Well, more like a nightmare. But nonetheless, it wasn’t real even though it all felt extremely real. Her eyes moved over to the other side of the bed where Opie laid sound asleep, his long hair sprawled around the pillow and his black tank top sat snug across his chest with the comforter half on and half off. His snores were light but they were enough to let Jo know her sudden jolt didn’t stir him awake. After a deep breath she moved her eyes to the nightstand, 3:30AM. She wasn’t sure the last time she could sleep through the night, it’d been months but when everynight posed its own issue preventing sleep, things began to feel like years. 

Jo stood up, one thing remained true from her dream, she was still swimming in Opie’s shirt, but she quickly threw on a pair of socks to protect her feet from the cold hardwood floors. Managing to tip toe out of their shared bedroom, she moved down the hallway and began checking in on the three bedrooms past hers. The first one which belonged to Dylan and Ellie, her daughter with an ex and Opie’s daughter, both girls were sound asleep on the bunk beds that they begged to have. Jo silently closed the door and moved onto the next room which was Kenny’s. Their only son. He was asleep as well, but not in bed. He was passed out in the bean bag that sat in the corner of the kid’s room, a video game controller in one hand and the other across his chest. He slept similarly to Opie, sprawled out with a blanket half on and half off, it made her smile before she lightly closed the door and made her way to the last bedroom. Nicolette’s. Their child together who was aging out of her crib as the days passed. The door was already open in the baby’s room, they left it that way so they could hear her cries better in case the monitor didn’t pick it up entirely. 

The baby was sound asleep as well. There was a part of Joanne that wished she was awake, needed to eat, needed to be burped or just simply wanted to be up. It’d give her something to do since she was up and had no intention of going back to sleep, it’d also give her something to push every aspect she had been going over and over in her head about the nightmare. But, she opted to let the baby sleep and make her way to the garage. 

Her hand rested on the door handle for a minute. Thinking if this was something she wanted to do or if it was just going to put her deeper in grief, deeper in depression. Ultimately, she decided to open the door and she saw the skeleton of the Teller bike and then the parts scattered on the work table against the garage wall. The Teller bike took the place of the panhead Opie had bought back when they decided to leave Charming and the club behind. She thought she had escaped the violence, escaped the torment and path of a bloody Teller life but no matter where she went, it’d follow her. 

“Can’t sleep?” Opie’s voice was soft and didn’t startle Jo one bit. That was one perk of feeling dead inside, nothing frightened her anymore. Sure, she feared for her kids but not for herself. 

“Never can.” Jo stood in the doorway, arms crossed leaned up against the frame staring at the bike that her brother crashed and died on. 

“I told you if you had an issue with me rebuilding it, I’d take it somewhere else.” Opie was now towering behind Jo, his body slightly touching her back as his arm moved up and down her arm. 

“No, I like knowing you’re close when you’re working on it.” Jo protested and melted into Opie’s grip. 

That was one thing she’d never intentionally do, take out her grief on Opie. He had his own share, between Donna and Piney and now their shared grief over Jax. She knew his shoulders were heavy with burden as well.

“You dream about him again?” Opie’s voice was soft now. 

Joanne hummed. “Both of ‘em. I feel like they’re fuckin’ talking to me.” 

“You’ve always felt that way when it came to JT.” Opie rested his head next to Jo’s as they talked. 

“It’s different now, I feel so fucking connected to Jax, JT never haunted me the way Jax’s death is.” Jo shook her head. 

“It’s still fresh. You gotta cut yourself a break.” Opie was now removing himself from Jo and stood directly next to her in the doorway, but he was facing her while she was still staring at the bike. 

“How come you’re so put together.” Jo looked over at her husband, the statement was a little aggressive, again, it was something she’d never intentionally do, didn’t mean that anger didn’t come pushing through sometimes. 

“It’s the life, babe.” Opie shook his head. It’s when Jo realized he tied his hair back into a bun compared to the sprawled out mess it was in bed when she left. 

“It’s not our life anymore.” Jo was back to staring at the bike. 

“But Jax didn’t give it up like we did. You tried, you tried to get him to come with us, but he chose the life.” 

“So that’s what allows you to accept it? Because it's the life?” Jo was trying to wrap her brain around that. 

“I was in the life, Jo. I get it. It’ll always be a part of guys like me and Jax, it makes it easier to understand.”

Was it? Was that what made it easier to understand? Those were the thoughts pinballing in Jo’s head. She was a part of the life, too. Whether she liked it or not. Maybe that was the difference, Jo didn’t exactly choose this life, it was forced on her, she was born into it. But it was the same for Jax and Opie. They all came from the parental lineage of the club. At one point though, it did become a choice. Jax and Opie became grown men and were fully accountable for their actions, their choices, their decisions. So did Jo. In different ways, that was likely where their paths forked. But somewhere along the way, Jo and Ope made the decision to get out. After all that loss the inevitability of the loss to come, it was the only thing that made sense. Jo had begged Jax to leave, begged him to take the kids and come with them but the ghost of JT haunted him in a way that it didn’t haunt her. JT might have loved the club but Jo didn’t think he loved it enough to sacrifice his kids, their well being. Jo’s argument was that was why the club was created, a way to live out a certain way of life, and time and time again, the club proved that wasn’t possible. It’s why JT wrote the manuscript, he was holding on to hope, the same hope that kept the reaper’s grip tight on Jax. Jax also had Gemma in his ear in a way that Jo didn’t. When Jo told Gemma she was packing up her and Opie’s kids and getting the hell out of Charming, Gemma gave some mumbled half assed comment before leaving and really taking it out on Opie. Everything that should have been said to Jo, was said to Opie. Gemma practically begged him to stay, for the club, for Jax. That Jo was just an old lady that needed to be put in her place, and listen to her husband. That was the breaking point of a long line of tension building between the two women. But ultimately, Gemma pulled one Teller back in. The Teller that was going to kill her. The Teller that would ultimately be the demise of Gemma Teller-Morrow. The weight of Gemma’s death didn’t weight on Jo the way everyone thought it would. She was content with it, similar in a way that Opie was with Jax. It was part of the life. Gemma knew what the life was. Through and through and chose it every time. Gemma was the reason JT was dead, whether Jo knew the gory and full truth, she had enough to place blame, Gemma was the reason Jo’s nephews were orphans, she was the reason why there was a strew of death all falling at her feet.

That’s what made Jo think more about Gemma. How she practically groomed her to become an old lady, a club girl.  How she wasn’t a good mother and maybe she could let that go for herself but she couldn’t for Jax. Maybe that’s what it all came down to. The fact that Jo tried so hard as the eldest sibling to be the parent that Jax needed while also being his older sister, while watching out for him, while seeing the good in the man and not pushing him to become something he’d never be able to come back from. But none of it worked. No matter how hard Jo tried, Gemma always won. And Jo always lost. 

So, that was why Jo had an issue blaming the life for the literal wreck in front of her. Because it wasn’t so much the life to blame but the web that Gemma spun for her own personal gain. 

“I would blame the life if he was gunned down by an enemy MC, shivved in prison, hell, even taken down on his bike. But this, Ope? This wasn’t the life. This was our life. The Teller life did this. Gemma did this–” Joanne was getting angrier as she spoke but the last sentence got stuck in her throat as she stopped short of saying what was seconds away from spilling out from her brain through her mouth. 

“You know you did everything you could, this doesn’t land on you.” Opie’s voice got serious now. He knew what she was going to say, that she was going to put the blame on herself. It was an odd position for Opie to be in, being the one trying to ground Joanne, be her support when all these years that was what she did for him. 

Joanne let out a laugh at the statement. This doesn’t land on you. Everything landed on someone in this life. 

“This all lands on me, Ope.” Jo shook her head, pushing off the door frame. “I was the only one there for him. I could’ve pulled him out. I could have prevented this. All of this.” Jo was beginning to spiral. 

“Jax was a grown man, Joanne.” Opie’s voice was soft even though the statement was firm. “Every decision he made falls on him, not me, not Gemma, not you.”

Joanne looked over at him and gave him a look. “Alright, yea, we can blame Gemma a little.” His stance softened and Jo managed to let out a laugh for the first time in a long time. 

She moved over to him and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she melted into his embrace. Opie’s head rested on Joanne’s as their embrace tightened. “Wendy and Nero are taking the boys horseback riding tomorrow.” Opie mumbled on Jo’s head. “Figured we could take the kids.” 

Jo let out a sigh of relief. If there was one thing that came from all of this, it was that Opie and them moved onto Nero’s farm with Wendy and the boys. It allowed Jo to be close to them, help raise them, be some type of fucked up family. 

“That sounds like a good idea.” Jo nodded her head against Opie. 

“You wanna talk about the dream?” Opie asked, bringing up their original conversation. 

“I was on 508, blinding lights from both directions. JT and Jax coming straight at me while the truck was coming from the other side. Then they whispered to me that it’s okay.” 

“Maybe it is okay.” Opie said, still hugging the girl. 

Jo wanted to respond but instead, she just kept her thought to herself.

Or maybe it never will be.

#SOA #Sons of Anarchy #SOA fanfic #Opie Winston #Opie Winston x OC

[laudsimogen]

Heya! Have absolutely been loving your fics! Not sure if these are particularly inspiring but a few prompts:

Reminiscing

Forgiveness

Pate (gotta wonder how BH are adjusting to life with him now lol)

Appreciate your work!

Together

Pâté was…a lot. Imogen had only just grown used to the little rat corpse when he’d suddenly gained life, and now she was back at square one: stuck between being unnerved by the rat’s presence and appreciating that he makes Laudna happy. Maybe it would take another two or three years, but she’d get used to this iteration of Pâté, too. Eventually.

There was only one thing that bothered her. Scared her, really, if she was being honest; if she thought too hard about it, a pit of anxiety grew in her stomach and she’d have to excuse herself to take a breather.

It shouldn’t be a problem. It shouldn’t, because Pâté has a big mouth and if he had something to say, surely he would have said it by now. But still, Imogen couldn’t be sure.

“Laudna?” Imogen twisted her hands nervously. “Can I ask you somethin’ about Pâté?”

“Oh,” Laudna said, “of course. Would you like to ask him instead?”

Pâté popped his head out of her hair. “Oi, I heard my name! Whaddaya need, sugarlips?”

“Pâté!” Laudna flicked the bird skull. “Stop talking to my friends like that, please.”

Imogen’s face burned, but she cleared her throat and choked out, “A-actually, could I talk to you alone? Is that…okay?” She didn’t know whether she was asking Pâté or Laudna, so her eyes flicked helplessly between them as she contemplated digging a hole and burying herself in it.

“Anything you can say to me, you can say to her,” Pâté said. “She was me, y’know. So, what’s the difference?”

“Just go talk to her,” Laudna said, her voice heavy with exasperation. “You make things so complicated sometimes, Pâté.”

“I make things interesting,” Pâté said, but he didn’t argue. He just unfurled his gruesome wings and flew past Imogen to the Inn’s hallway outside their room. Imogen followed him and closed the door gently behind her.

“You been actin’ awful squirrelly lately,” Pâté said, and he nudged Imogen’s shoulder with the side of his body. “You’re not plannin’ on doin’ anything…unsavory, are ya?”

“Like—like what?” Imogen shook her head and tried not to think about what he might be imagining. “Look, I just…do you remember things? From before you were alive?”

“Oh, yeah,” Pâté said. “I remember everything! You know, you can make me cover my eyes when you change, but I still know what you look like under all those frills.” If he had eyelids, Imogen was sure he would be winking at her.

Imogen sighed. “I’m serious, Pâté. I said some things to you that I really don’t think Laudna is in a position to hear right now. So, if you could just keep it to yourself, that would be great. For her.”

“For her. Riiight.” Pâté landed on Imogen’s shoulder and curled his tail under her chin. “Because it would be so bad for her to know those things, wouldn’t it, love?”

Imogen scowled and resisted the urge to bat Pâté off of her. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “She has much bigger things on her plate. All of her trauma is on the surface again and I don’t wanna keep loading her up with my problems. I want to help her, not…confuse her.” She paused. “And I think you agree, or you would have told her already.”

“How d’ya know I haven’t?”

Imogen froze. “Have you?” Surely he was bluffing. She would know if he’d told Laudna all of the things she’d said before; Laudna would be acting different, wouldn’t she? She was acting different, but that was only because she’d died again. Right?

“Sure!” Pâté gave a single cackling laugh. “I told ’er plenty. She needed it; you shoulda seen her when she was alone last night. Right mess. Only thing got her ta stop cryin’ was hearing whatcha told me.”

“Last night?” Imogen’s gut twisted. “I just stepped out for a minute; I thought she was asleep! I shouldn’t have left; I just—” Imogen broke off. “Oh, gods, she’s alone right now.”

Imogen spun around and burst back through the door, imagining Laudna curled on the bed crying, but she simply sat at the edge of the mattress fiddling with a hole in the threadbare sheets. She looked up at Imogen’s abrupt entrance, and concern washed over her face as she took in Imogen’s panicked expression.

“Imogen, what happened? What’s wrong?”

Imogen took a few deep breaths to slow her racing heart as Pâté flew past her to land on Laudna’s shoulder. “Nothin’,” she said. “I just—” She sighed. There wasn’t any point in making something up.

She sat down next to Laudna. “Pâté told me about last night,” she said. “I’m sorry I left you alone. If I’d known you were awake…”

Laudna shifted uncomfortably and looked down at her hands. “You don’t have to be with me twenty-four seven, Imogen,” she murmured. “It’s not your fault I’m such a mess. I don’t want to burden you any more than I already have.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Imogen’s voice was desperate, firm, but not annoyed. Never annoyed. “You aren’t a burden. You never have been and you never will be. What can I do to help you understand that?”

“I don’t know,” Laudna whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to feel normal.”

Imogen deflated. “No, Laudna, no,” she crooned, and she cradled Laudna’s face between her hands. “You don’t have to be sorry, and you don’t have to feel normal. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. None of this is your fault. Okay?”

Laudna nodded and rested a hand on top of Imogen’s, holding it to her cheek. “Pâté told me about some things you said when I…when I wasn’t around. Are they true?”

Fuck. Imogen had all but forgotten about what she was originally worried about. “I…I don’t know what he told you,” she said. “What did he say?”

Laudna held her hand out, and Pâté climbed down her arm and into her palm so that she could hold him to her chest. He looked almost sweet when he wasn’t speaking.

“He said you spent every night beside me, begging me to come back,” Laudna said quietly, her gaze locked down onto Pâté. “That you would do anything. He said he didn’t know much about love, but he could tell that you…that you loved me very much, even when I wasn’t there to see it. That you needed me.”

Imogen let her breath out. So, he didn’t tell her about everything else, all the little things when she’d held him while Laudna went out to pick berries for a pie or go for a dip in a pond. She always asked Imogen if she wanted to join her, of course, but Imogen preferred to sit back and watch, murmuring to Pâté about how breathtaking it was to watch Laudna have fun, how her smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life, how she wished she could kiss those lips and hold her waist and tell her how she really felt. How she thought Laudna was the best person she had ever met, and how she’d spend her entire life with her if she could. If Laudna ever came to a point where she would be ready to hear those things, she would hear them from Imogen herself.

“Of course it’s true,” Imogen said. “You know I love you, Laudna. Did you doubt that?”

“No,” Laudna said, but her voice betrayed her uncertainty. “It’s not…it’s not that I thought you didn’t love me; you’ve always made sure I’m aware of that. I just feel like I’m holding you back, and you don’t see it. I’ve just impeded your progress by a week, Imogen. Maybe I can still help you in your journey for now, but you won’t always need me, and I’m afraid that moment may come sooner than I expected. I don’t ever want to hold you back, and right now, I’m just…” She sighed. “I don’t think I’ve even managed to make you laugh once since I returned. How am I supposed to help you with something as big as the moon if I can’t even make you happy anymore? I’m useless.”

Imogen’s heart sank, and she swallowed hard, willing herself not to cry. “You do make me happy, Laudna. It’s not you; we’ve had a lot going on, so yeah, I’ve not been much in the mood to laugh. But getting you back was…that was the happiest moment of my life.” Imogen took Laudna’s hands and squeezed them as a tear began to fall. “Please believe me. You’re not useless, you can’t hold me back, I’ll always need you. I’m so sorry I haven’t made that clear enough. You’re the most important thing in the world to me, Laud, and not because of what you can do for me. I just love you. Simple as that.”

“Told ya,” came Pâté‘s raspy voice, muffled by Laudna’s blouse. Laudna shushed him, then took a deep, shaky breath.

“You’re sure?” she whispered. “You’re sure I’m worth it, even in this state?”

Imogen didn’t know whether Laudna meant her state of undeath, her state of mind, or any number of other things, but her answer was the same regardless. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Laudna laughed through the inky tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she said.

“Funny, ’cause that’s exactly how I feel about you,” Imogen said with a soft smile. “You’re wonderful, Laudna. It’s okay to admit to yourself that you’re worthy of being loved. I know how hard it can be, but you helped me understand that a long time ago. It’s your turn now.”

Laudna let out another breathy laugh and wiped her eyes. “I suppose that’s just something to add to my third-chance docket,” she said. “I know I haven’t been myself lately. But it helps having you here to hold on to when I feel I’m falling into deep water. So, thank you.”

“You got nothin’ to thank me for,” Imogen said. “I’m always gonna be here for you, no matter what you need. You just call and I’ll answer. Okay?”

“All right,” Laudna said. Then, Imogen?

Laudna’s mental voice sounded in Imogen’s head, and warmth spread through her at the familiar contact.

Yeah, honey?

I need something. If it’s all right with you.

Imogen could feel Laudna’s emotions through their connection: warmth, anxiety, hope, sadness. Love, more than anything. It was a complex, tangled web, but Imogen didn’t mind. She had been prepared for days, weeks, years to meet Laudna where she was at, no matter how complicated.

Of course, Imogen thought. Anything.

Could you just hold me for a while?

Another wave of emotion washed over Imogen from Laudna’s mind, including a fair amount of nervousness asking so explicitly for something just for herself.

Imogen didn’t hesitate. She swept Laudna into her arms, careful not to crush Pâté between them, and held her as close as she could get. Her heart swelled as Laudna burrowed into her, burying her face in her shoulder, and took a deep, contented breath. This was how things ought to be, Imogen thought. Laudna flush against her, breathing softly and slowly as if the world were just the two of them, warm and easy and together. Sure, the both of them needed a bit of work on themselves, but that was fine. Everything would be fine as long as they had each other, and Imogen would make sure Laudna knew from now on that it goes both ways.

#critical role #imodna #imogen temult #laudna #my writing #thank you! #obviously i chose pate #it was a challenge lol i feel like this one is a mess but i hope you like it!! #it also turned out way angstier than i meant so. oops

[radical-revolution]

Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche was the first Tibetan lama to take a genuine interest in westerners and their culture, and I am sorry to say that he may well be the last. It wasn’t until I saw how Trungpa Rinpoche presented the Dharma in the West that I began to realise that westerners hold very different points of view to the Tibetans.

Trungpa Rinpoche’s methods were thought out in the minutest detail. I remember seeing Shambhala students at Karmê Chöling, Vermont, being drilled like soldiers. I later learned that Trungpa Rinpoche had insisted that they salute English-style, not American. Rinpoche also asked his American students to practise elocution by saying ‘Cathy’s hair is black’ in an English accent, over and over again. At first, it sounded like a ridiculous waste of precious time. What was he doing? It wasn’t until many years later that I began to appreciate his methods.

During Vajrayana ceremonies in Tibetan monasteries, monks sit in neat rows, chant in unison, beat drums and blow horns in carefully choreographed rituals that have been performed in exactly the same way for hundreds of years. The monks of Mindrolling monastery are famous for the perfection of their group practices. One hundred monks can pick up their vajras and bells in unison without a sound.

Vajrayana ritual is very much a part of Tibetan culture and an effective method for aligning body and mind. In a way, it is a kind of mindfulness practice. How should this very Tibetan method be translated for non-Tibetans? Trungpa Rinpoche was probably the only Tibetan lama who had the guts and imagination to experiment. He taught his American students the practice of drill, making them march in sync like soldiers, and gave them English elocution lessons to increase their awareness. I thought his ideas were brilliant.

In the same way that to point at the moon you need a finger, deluded human beings need a vessel, a culture, to contain the wisdom they wish to uphold. Should Tibetan culture be imported lock, stock and barrel into America? No, said Trungpa Rinpoche, it shouldn’t. Why import a Tibetan finger to point at a western finger if what you really want to do is point at the moon? It’s futile. Is it possible to fit non-dual teachings into a vessel forged by Judeo-Christian values and traditions? Possibly.

Many of us admired Trungpa Rinpoche’s courageous, if somewhat avant-garde attempts. Nevertheless, news of his experiments raised eyebrows back home in the Himalayas, and even amongst the few westerners who had already been thoroughly marinated in Tibetan culture.

What I am trying to say is this: it takes time to work out how to present the Dharma to students from diverse cultures. It takes, time, planning, vision and diligence. And the merest suggestion of change inevitably attracts harsh criticism. Who among us has the guts to ask Americans to pronounce their vowels like the English? Or to dress hippies in military uniforms? Even Trungpa Rinpoche’s shrine arrangement was a masterpiece, neither overwhelming western students with Tibetanness nor straying too far from Tibetan tradition.

He chose to wear a suit and tie instead of heavy brocades and hats, and called himself ‘Mukpo’, which means Brown. He never bombarded his students with Tibetan paraphernalia, yet he never lost sight of his Tibetan roots.

The traditions he grew up with were adapted to suit the place, the time and the people he was teaching. And he skilfully wove in aspects of the Japanese aesthetic that he and his students found so appealing.

Trungpa Rinpoche, great visionary that he was, died too young. His death was not only a great loss for the Dharma but the entire future of Buddhism in the West. I must admit that, at first, I was critical of his methods. But I gradually began to see that, as we are now teaching such diverse peoples, not only must we take into consideration their cultural background but also the generation they were born into.

It bugs me that more is being said about Trungpa Rinpoche’s eccentric behaviour than his courageous and inventive approach to teaching Americans. Just as parents spend hours talking baby-talk with their new-born babies, Trungpa Rinpoche willingly absorbed as much as he could of American culture and then tried to communicate with his American students on their level. How many other lamas have even made the attempt?

— Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse, Poison is Medicine

[littlemisspessimist]

Just wanted to say I’ve been following life on mars for 2 years now and I gasped in excitement when I got the update notification it’s one of my favorite works :) glad to hear you’re doing better!

As for promts- Steddie hugs from behind perhaps? 🤔

thank you so much! I'm so shocked that people have continued to read my fic even though I've been so incredibly inconsistent these past 2 years. But everyone has been so patient, and I promise I read every single comment left on my fics--even when I haven't updated in almost a year. Thank you so much for continuing to suffer with me torturing these characters lol

.......................................................

Prompt: Hugs from behind. This one got away from me so quickly lol

Sure, Eddie had always been touchy. He’d always been in your face, in your space, and in the way.

With his childhood friends, he was the one reaching to hold their hand on the playground. He was the one who gave the goodbye hugs, the noogies, and cheek-squeezing, bone crushing embraces that left them out of breath but full of love. As time passed, as the world around him grew less accepting of his black shirts and music taste, suddenly being touched by him was met with a flinch or a shove.

A push against the lockers in freshmen year.

A gut punch behind the bleachers in junior year.

Because what other way was there to touch the town queer. The town freak.

But the few friends he was able to find—the few who stuck around through each insult thrown their way for even standing next to him—they were lucky to get his affection. To feel him press against their side, a cheeky smile on his face.

When Spring Break of ’86 changed everything, no one was allowed to touch him.

“Don’t risk infection,” and “Don’t open your stitches,” was crammed into his brain as doctors and nurses forced distance between him and the Party as they huddled around him, cataloging every breath he took and making sure no exhale was his last. Dustin would stand on his right, hands clenched and his lip stiff as he kept his body from crumbling into Eddie’s side. That first day in the hospital, after Eddie was fully awake and allowed visitors, he reached for Dustin, uncurling his fingers and letting them grasp his.

Because he couldn’t imagine the last time this kid—this brother—ever touched him was holding his dead body.

The others came as well, each one giving his hand a firm, steady embrace. Hopper even gave his shoulder a gentle pat, the kindest touch ever exchanged between the two.

The most surprising visitor was Steve Harrington. Steve usually stood in the back of the Party, letting the kids provide updates and gush at Eddie, giving them all the space they needed with their metal-head idol. In the background, Steve watched, almost standing guard among the group, looking over everyone’s shoulders and holding his breath when anyone got too close. He was the police of “take a step back, you little shits,” and they all groaned under his command. But they still followed.

Only when he was there by himself did he sit next to Eddie, his voice forced casual and his eyes darting. “You doing okay?” he asked.

“I mean, I’ve been better,” Eddie responded, and Steve gave a quick breathy laugh before gasping, leaning forward as his hands shoved into his hair and his elbows rested on his knees. Eddie watched, his mouth gaping as Steve’s hands fisted his hair, his eyes shut and his back curling into himself.

“Y-you were dead. You were dead and I carried you out of there,” Steve panted, his shoulders hunching as the pace of his breath was increasing speed, catching roughly in his throat. And Eddie could only lay there, his body frozen as the figure of strength throughout the past week fell apart. This pillar of protection, watching over the group, always standing in the front lines. So he did the only thing he could think of that moment, doctors be fucking damned. He grasped Steve’s arm and dragged him forward, and Steve sunk into him, his face pressed against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie pulled his arm around his neck, letting Steve nearly lay on top of him as hushed words spilled from his lips.

“I’m still here, Stevie—we’re all safe,” Eddie mumbled, awkwardly patting Steve’s head before running his fingers through Steve’s hair. Steve huffed into his shoulder, pressing his forehead into the floral hospital gown and struggling to take deep breaths. Eddie let his eyes close for a moment, his attempts at deep breathing impeded by the pain in his sides. Eddie let out a mild grunt and said, “Jesus, calm down Steve—I’m the one who got eaten here,” and Steve gave a muffled groan in between aborted laughter. Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Wait wait wait wait— fuck you got eaten too shit,” Eddie pulled Steve back so he could see his face, scanning his face for marks and bruises but finding only red rimmed eyes and scrunched brows. He pulled at Steve’s shirt, seeing if he could bring it up to examine any wounds, but Steve shoved it down, his face reddening as he winced at the movement.

“Shit, Eddie,” he grumbled, trying to push Eddie back, but he retaliated, grasping the collar of Steve’s shirt and steadying them both. When he took a breath, Eddie’s eyes darted around Steve, but Steve kept his gaze firm on the man in front of him, his own hand coming up to grasp the crook of his neck and holding on. Like he was confirming that this was real. That they were both still here and still breathing. Still two beating hearts.

Eddie noted the familiarity of the position. Of how the last time he was this close to Steve, he was holding a broken bottle to his neck, his life chaos. Eddie brought his eyes back to Steve’s and they shared a simple inhale and exhale together, their hands still grasping each other. Steve held Eddie’s gaze and a small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. Eddie smiled back.

“We made it,” he said.

…………………………………………………

“What did you make?” Steve asked through a yawn years later. He stumbled, still sleepy, toward the mop of curly hair in front of him on that rare morning where he was allowed to sleep in. Eddie furrowed his brow at the coffee maker in front of him, second guessing his ratio of ground coffee to water as he tapped on the countertop to an unfamiliar beat.

“How much of this instant shit should I put in?” Eddie asked in response, holding the can up in the air for Steve to reference without turning around. He tried reading the directions on the can, but the text was too tiny and despite Steve’s suggestion, he refused to entertain the idea that he just maybe might need to get some reading glasses. Eddie grumbled to himself, squinting at the directions when a pair of arms wrapped around his middle and a body pressed against his back. Steve closed his eyes, taking a breath of Eddie’s sticky, morning-sweat scent as he pressed is face into Eddie’s neck. Eddie leaned back into the embrace, lacing his fingers into Steve’s as he rubbed against old matching scars and kissed behind Eddie’s ear. Eddie took a slow breath, bumping his head into Steve’s as they rocked together in their kitchen, listening to the blood in their veins pumping. And Eddie turned around, his own arms settling on Steve’s shoulders, their faces inches from each other and their breath settling into a familiar inhale and exhale.

“Stevie, you’re so touchy,” he said with a smile.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #pessimist writes #not proofread #one shot #long post #idk i'll figure out a tag system #fanfic prompt #fanfic #steddie fic

[ficklefic]

You and me, how about it and From now on, love always please!

hehe. you and me, how about it is one of the saddest fics i've ever written, actually. based after the indigo girls cover of romeo and juliet, i know exactly why i stopped. it's the grief, babey!

here's the very start of the story, set maybe the first couple of weeks of senior year.

Only the trudge of Quinn’s heavy black boots could be heard in the late night. Nine o’clock and she, dressed in ripped pants, jean jacket, her pink hair curtained her face, walked the length of the sidewalk of the familiar streets she frequented over the course of the summer months. It was mid-September, school had resumed. She should be at home, working on Calculus, or reading King Lear but there was nothing, no force in this world that could keep her feet still. Past the hedgerows, walls of foliage that acted as fencing in this still neighbourhood, where porch lights, street lights, lamp lights illuminated her way, Quinn reached the familiar driveway and saw the familiar sight that made her stomach lurch. “You’re still awake,” Quinn came up to the porch railing and Rachel, who swung to and fro on the porch swing by her front door stiffened in surprise. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” “Quinn,” Rachel breathed, and Quinn shifted her weight from her left leg to her right leg. Her nails bit into the flaking white paint of the rail. “What are you doing here? Did you walk here?” “It’s a beautiful night — seems like a waste if I drove.” Rachel set down the porcelain mug in her hands to the small table beside her. “Why are you here?” “That’s not a nice thing to say to your summer fling,” Quinn said through falsehood, through bravado, despite the burning in her throat. “School starts and suddenly you forget the last two months? That’s unfair of you, don’t you think?” Rachel looked beautiful in the low light. Dressed in a cardigan with the sleeves too long for her, and a white camisole and linen pants, Rachel looked like an angel from a dream. She averted her gaze from Quinn’s intensity. “I told you. Finn’s back — you shouldn’t come around here anymore.” Quinn’s jaw tightened and she made a conscious attempt to loosen it. She looked where Rachel’s eyes were focused, on the gold star sticker Rachel once playfully stuck to her jean jacket. Rachel remained still, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. “You can’t even look me in the face anymore? Do you hate me that much?”

“Quinn, that’s not — “ Rachel looked up and her eyes glistened, Quinn saw. Her pink cheeks, her mussed hair and how it framed her face. At this point, her heart held a constant ache that she could not shake off. Every intake of breath, the longing grew. Quinn clenched her fists until her knuckles turned pale and white — it was all she could do to hold on to the vestiges of her lack of crying. “I can never hate you.” “You can never love me either.” The crack in her voice reminded her of gulfs, chasms, and ravines she longed for Rachel to bridge. Though Rachel did not look away, to have her so close and not be allowed to touch her sent ache into Quinn’s gut. Call her a glutton for punishment, but she refused to look away, even though the mere act of looking Rachel in the eye was enough to send tears to her own. “That’s not true and you know it.” For some inexplicable reason, that admission hurt more than the past few weeks where Rachel turned away from Quinn at every instance, where Rachel pretended as if Quinn did not sleep in her bed, as if the intimacy they formed in the last two months was nothing but an illusion that kept Quinn’s pulse pumping like it was supposed to do. It was the middle of September, when the season had not decided whether to remain warm or turn cool, so the days blazed, and the nights chilled. A cold breeze blew past, a shiver coursed through Rachel’s body. It was hardly two weeks ago when Quinn had the license to sit beside her, arm over her shoulder, to share her body warmth with the girl in front of her. Now, she could not even do that. Heartbreak had stilled her to atrophy.

#asks #anonymous

[lovearne]

Soulmates - Adrian chase

ADRIAN CHASE APPRECIATION WEEK: day 03. alternate universe

All of my fics and my whole page is 18+ only, if you are a child leave. I deserve a safe space to express myself, all blogs under 18 or no age will be blocked. Let me enjoy my experience safely on the internet, thank you.

Word count: 1.3k+

Warnings: canon typical violence, reader is kidnapped, mentions of past abuse, I think thats it

----

Your soul mark tattoos show up during your life. As soon as your soulmate is born. There have been instances where people get them when they turn 18, and have to wait for their soulmate to find them. Some people are born with theirs, just like you had been.

You grew up with your mark, reading it over and over, they were the first words you knew how to read and spell. They were your favorite words in the whole world. You'd stay up at night running your hand over your wrist. They were in an easy enough spot to read. You quite frequently doodled a heart beside them. You were already so in love with your soulmate, and you hadn't even met them yet.

Now, with your words being so easy to see, multiple people have tried to say them to you and pretend to be your soulmate. People who didn't have their words yet. The most convincing attempt was made when you were freshly 18. You had been invited to the party a classmate had thrown, a graduation party. One of your classmates' older brother, had been home from the marines for a few weeks. And your classmate had told their brother how much you wanted to meet your soulmate, how desperate you were that you almost fell for people fooling you before. 

So they had devised a plan. And you had dated him for a few years. Most of the time he was overseas on tours anyways, and you were worried everyday for his safety. Until you got news he was KIA, and yet your mark didn't fade. You had refused to believe he was dead. Until you seen him in person, the sight had made you throw up. You had come to terms with the fact that he wasn't actually your soup mate, he had lied. When soul mates die, the words on their skin fade, and his supposed soul mark had still been vibrant and yours hadn't been crossed out. He had gotten the first thing you said to him tattooed on his body.

He had fooled you, he had taken advantage of you.

You vowed to not let it happen again. And by the time you even thought about dating again, you had your eyes set on an adorable busboy at a local restaurant. You had a crush on him the second you saw him. His fluffy hair and vibrant eyes, his goofy tendencies and his loud king of obnoxious laugh. You fell for the the beautiful goofy guy at Fennel fields. And you decided, you were going to talk to him, eventually. 

You weren't ready for that step yet, you weren't healed from the last time you tried a relationship.

So you wait, you admire him from afar, staring at him, and getting to know his cute outward facing persona. Sure you had known about the Chase brothers growing up, but they were both quite a bit older than you. Adrian had already been in his last year of high school when you entered your first. And Gut? He was almost 15 years older than you. Gut had died during your senior year, you remember they had retired his old football jersey, permanently marked as the property of Chase. The numbers perfectly fit over the number 74. Gut had been a military solider, and then a cop on the streets of Evergreen, he gave his life protecting that of a child. He saved the child, even after being fatally shot, he got them to safety. Gut had been deemed a hero of Evergreen, and he had been awarded a multitude of honors from the city and the school. 

You remember Adrian being there, at the ceremony in the gymnasium. You remember his dad being there too. But you don't remember much else, after seeing him run from the gym and not return.

You had always kind of been head over heals for him. Just a little crush on the weird 12th grader and you'd forgotten about it when you had met the marine that lied about being your soulmate.

You had actually dreamed about him before, you had never said a word to him, and he had never said a word to you, yet you've dreamt of him, what it would be like to run your hands through his curly hair, how safe you'd feel in his arms. What it would be like kissing him, feeling his skin against yours.

You had ended up staying at fennel fields until close that night, and you maybe got a little too tipsey on the cheap wine they served after 7pm. It had been a bad idea, yes. But you only lived about 7 blocks away, so you thought you'd have a nice late night stroll. In the nice cool air after a muggy day. 

You walked alone, the city had been too cheap to replace some of the streetlights, but you knew the path like the back of your hand. Stumbly and drunk as you might have been, you had some benefits from being with a marine for 4 years, including a knowledge of self defence and how to operate a gun.

Passing by a dark alleyway, a pair of arms reached out and grabbed you, a hand on an arm and the other around your waist. You let out a gasp as they touched you, but throwing your free arm back and connecting with the person's soft waist. Throwing your head back, making conact with their nose and stomping on their foot. They release their grasp on you and you take your window of escape. Unfortunately not fast enough. You felt an impact on the side of your head, your world quickly going dark.

-----

When you open your eyes, there were two figures infront of you, they were dressed almost comically ideitcal to the bad guys you seen on tv. Moving your hands against the restraints behind your back, you smile at the fact that they were tied loosely at best. You let out a laugh, only to see the two men stop arguing and look at you. 

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" The bigger one asked.

"The fact the two of you numnuts can't even figure out how to tie my wrists properly. You think you have to worry about The Vigilante? Worry about me, dickmunch." You pulled you hands free of the restriants, slowly standing infront of the chair. You look at your surroundings. You were inside a shop, probably part of the building that faced the alleyway. Easy escape route forming in your head, you get into a defensive position. 

The men look at you as if you were just a small bump in their plans. The bigger one walking toward you and grabbing your arm, twisting it behind your back. You let out a loud shriek as you feel the bones crushing together.

Pushing out if his hold, you hit him in the jaw, one solid hit and he was down like a sack of potatoes. The smaller man came after you next, you being much more inexperienced then him, he easily got the upper hand. 

Until he made a mistake. He left his side open, so you went for it. Punching his gut hard, the wind gets knocked out of him and he slumps against you, his body bending forward. You slam his head against your knee. Knocking him unconscious as well.

You are startled out of calming down and escaping by a clapping coming behind you.

Turning you see the infamous Vigilante, he had been around for a few years, and he was always in the local paper. You nod your head at him, reaching for your bag to leave this place.

"Wholly fuck, you're a badass!!" You pause in your steps, your soul mark tingling as he said those words. Smiling as they were covered up by your sleeve at the moment. There was no way this man could have known those were your words.

"Yeah, gotta be if dipshits harass me, ya'know?" You seen his body visibly wince as he grabbed his side.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He groans as he realizes. "You're my soulmate!!" You nod your head at him, smiling warmly.

"Why don't you come find me when you're ready, yeah? I always eat dinner at Fennel fields."

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