In the event anyone has been trying to reach me via discord or email (not that many people had those, but still), I am afraid that I have lost access to them. I can only assume I was hacked or something because I went to login and it wouldn't accept my password and then it said the accounts didn't exist. I was never able to recover the accounts either. Got run around in circles trying to. I don't know what the hell happened. I was a bit devastated.
Rest assured I am fine. But I have decided not to create another fanfiction account email and discord for the time being. I have turned off Tumblr messages and asks due to being bombarded by bots and scammers. It was getting to be too tedious to tell them apart. I'm not involved enough in anything to bother with it anymore.
If anyone has left comments on my AO3 works trying to get a hold of me, I apologize for not responding. I most likely didn't get notified of your comment to begin with because it would have gone to my now lost email account. I do have another one attached to the account now, so I should get them going forward. But I rarely check for new comments through AO3 itself.
I have also been extremely busy at work. My work place just got done with a full building remodel that took about a month and I had been running around like a chicken with my head cut off. It's over now, but we still haven't been able to recover fully from the back log of work to be done.
Add to that my dad's sudden health problems and I've been more than a little preoccupied.
But I am alive and well and will try to respond to anyone in the coming weeks.
This is the end. The story is over. Where things go from here is up to your imagination. This part is not a necessary read. It holds no plot related to the story. It is merely a deep dive into why this story was written. And toward the end of it, a bit of a message to you, the reader. If you choose to read, thank you. If you don’t, thank you for reading this far.
Just Breathe by Pearl Jam
T/W: Talk of death, dying, suicide, loss, and grief
I intended for this to be longer, for the angst to last further, for the emotional trauma to carry on. But as I headed into what I initially thought would be more chapters, it became glaringly apparent to me, that this story was simply a strange mirror of my own mental and emotional journey this past year. It became a much more personal piece than I ever thought it would be. A true portion of myself laid bare. I was forced, as I posted Chapter 12, to stop writing and posting for about a week to just let it all soak in so that I didn’t spiral. The current ending was not my originally intended ending, but instead the ending I needed.
2025 has not been the most kind and trying to find the holiday spirit as we came into the end of the year was…taxing to say the least.
My year started with my 90 year old grandmother falling ill and, a bit later, the news that she had terminal cancer. She was my last living grandparent and a source of so much joy and light in my life, that I didn’t even realize until that point.
Loosing my other grandparents had been different, in there own way. One of my grandpas was gone long before I was even born. The other, I was 10 when he died of cancer. It was a long fought battle with melanoma, but my parents sheltered me from so much of it that I don’t recollect much outside of his funeral. But it still hit me hard, as he was basically my best friend.
I was 16 when my other grandmother committed suicide, both because of her heartbreak from having lost my grandpa and from all the drugs doctors had put her on that had conflicting side effects. But we had spent the better part of 6 years watching her become a shadow of herself and pull away. I had mourned her long before she died. Even now, thinking of her and that time, I just have a sense of numbness that overcomes me.
They were both gone in an instant.
I didn’t know how different this would be from previous experiences.
It was both a blessing and a curse to spend those final weeks with her.
A curse because it was so painful to watch her wither away. To watch the strong, joyful woman I had known my whole life grow frail and weak. To watch my parents agonize over taking care of her and neglect themselves.
Through it all, I stepped up. As they stood vigil over her and became full time caretakers, even with at home hospice care coming daily except on weekends, I stepped into their roles within our home; continuing to work a 40 hour job and taking on the additional tasks of all the chores on our small ranch, feeding and tending to our livestock, as well as making sure my parents stayed fed. Used up almost all my vacation time, except what I knew I would need later in the year for my sister’s wedding.
But it was a blessing too. I will never forget the quiet strength of her in those final weeks. The acceptance of what was to come. She worried not for herself, but only for us. Secure in her faith and knowing what awaited her beyond this life. Reassuring us constantly that it would all be alright, that she did not want us to cry for her, but to be joyful. She had never been more beautiful than in those final moments.
I was there, at her house, the morning she passed. I was not inside with her, but outside on her porch. I remember the sounds of my father’s prayers, asking that she be taken home, that her pain be ended. The soft sounds of my mother crying. The wet gurgle of her shuddered breathes. The steady hum of the oxygen machine beside her bed. The chirping of the birds, the slight rustle of the breeze through the trees around her porch.
The way that the world seemed to go silent and still for a moment, that moment, before my father spoke the words “It’s done.”
What had felt like a year of agony and heartache, but was actually just 5-6 weeks, was finally over.
We buried her about a week later, on Mother’s Day. There was no better day for it. A testament and the highest honor to the woman, the mother, the matriarch she was and forever will be. Survived by a small horde of grandchildren and great-grandchildren alike. Four sons, raised by herself, after the untimely death of her alcoholic husband in the early 70s. No family around to help, as she had run off to elope in her early 20s and her family had moved away with no word of where to when she returned. And her husband had left all his family behind to escape something, debt collectors maybe? They both took it to their graves so we may never know.
Trying to get back to some sense of normal was hard. We’d been so busy, so consumed by her, the absence almost created a vacuum. It threatened to destroy us all.
My sister had been planning her wedding prior to the news of our grandmother’s illness. She paused in the middle of it because our grandmother was supposed to be her flower girl. It took months before she got back to it. And while I was happy for my sister on some base level, I will always feel she could have done better than the man she is with. But she made her choice in life partner.
I spent the rest the year, up until a few weeks before her wedding in October, grappling with the fact that she was actually marrying him. Coming to terms with the fact that I was her maid of honor, who had to give a speech, and I needed to find a way to be happy for her. I made my peace with it, though it was a struggle.
Every moment of angst in this story is in some way a reflection of my grief, my anger, my mental state, my emotional struggle throughout this year. The way that the reader is haunted by smells and pictures and places, a reflection of how those same things bring me memories of my grandmother. Every sob, every tear, every movement made a mirror image of something that in real life I felt or did. A lie lived for so long, metaphorically my denial over what was happening. Shane is representative of my life before my grandmother died, the reader my life now. The fact that it is a marriage shattered a reflection of my own turmoil over my sister’s wedding.
And the second half of this story, a testament to how far I have come and how far I intend to keep going. A reflection of the peace I made with my sister’s wedding and her chosen partner. Of coming to terms with a world where I can no longer just call my grandmother. A reflection of my working on finding joy I thought I had lost. For the first time in over 20 years I’m watching football games with my family again. And, as long as the team we’re routing for is winning, loving every minute of it. I have actively written this story and posted it. Something I haven’t really done since 2015. A day and age when writing was my everything. When I put more effort into a work of fanfiction than I did my college courses.
I am trying not to take a single moment for granted. To find the beauty in everything.
I will forever be grateful for the 32 years I got with her.
It still hurts…
But it will always hurt…
I want to thank everyone for joining me on this journey.
To everyone who commented or who simply gave this a read or a bookmark or a kudos, those steadily growing numbers meant just as much to me as every comment left. Each one of you has helped me to heal a little more, even though, when I first posted this, I held no real expectations.
I do not know what the future holds. I do not know if I will continue to write and post stories. Maybe someday, I will explore the other side of this that I originally intended to write. But please feel free to comment, to reach out on my Tumblr (linked in my profile), or here in a comment on any of my works. I will respond to questions, as soon as time allows it.
Thank you again for reading…
And maybe relating…
Or for just feeling something, that maybe was beyond yourself…
May 2026 be a better year for us all.
And though it has nothing to do with this story in any way, I want to share and to leave you, with the poem and words that I wrote for and spoke at my grandmother’s funeral.
Butterfly Wings
90 years of butterfly wings,
Beating gently at a pond.
Creating ripples great and small,
That bounce and reflect on and on.
Each ripple is a moment,
An instance caught in time.
An instance where she touched our hearts,
A moment most sublime.
Those ripples they will grow,
Forever and ever on.
Always there in each of us,
Even when we too are gone.
For we will leave our own ripples,
Each of them great and small.
But it is from her beating wings,
That we spread ours at all.
Too many times in my life have I not gotten that last good bye, that last I love you. This time I was blessed with the chance to do just that. I said “I love” a thousand times in a week, but I never said good bye. Because it isn’t good bye. It’s always going to be “I’ll see you later”. I will see you in spring flowers. In the reaching branches of an oak; sturdy and strong against the winds and rain that would like to see it bend and break. I’ll see you in the flowing waters of every river and creek. I’ll see the blue of your eyes in the sky on a sunny day. And I’ll see your smiling face, bursting with pride and joy on the day I join you in Glory. So, I love you and I’ll see you later.
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1189
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Lydia by Highly Suspect and Halcyon by Ellie Goulding
Three years and I can’t help but wonder why it feels like it’s already about to fall apart. Sure, it had been a whirl wind romance. I transferred my position to be close to him. Left behind good friends and what family I did have for the small town life of King County, Georgia. Jumped straight into it so fast that we were married after just a year. I gave up everything but my job for him.
He always looked at me like I hung the damn moon. Made me feel so beautiful, even in my ratty need-to-do-laundry clothes, with no makeup on. Could barely keep his hands off me. It was hard for me to keep my hands to myself too.
But something shifted about six months ago. I don’t even know what. I’m not doing anything different. He’s not doing anything different…except avoiding me.
Slowly but surely, he’s pulled away. Hardly looks at me any more when he is here. He’s taken on more shifts, even going so far as to take on extra paperwork and desk duty, both things that he hates with a passion, just to be away from me, away from our home. At least that’s what he tells me, when he talks to me at all. I just wish I knew why, wish I knew what I’d done. If he’d just talk to me…
Rick keeps telling me it’s nothing to worry about. That it’s most likely just his way of trying to deal with a bad case they had a bit back. Home invasion gone bad. But his assurance always feels a little flat.
The faded smell of perfume on Shane’s clothes doesn’t help.
I asked him about it once, when he was actually around for me to do so. He said it was some girl who’d tried to flirt her way out of a ticket. That she’d been all over him.
Gave the same excuse when it was lipstick on his shirt collar too.
Now, he leaves his clothes at the precinct and takes them to a laundromat instead of bringing them home. Got sick of me asking questions I guess.
I’ve watched his eyes go from being warm to steely when he looks at me. He doesn’t look at me like I’m his wife anymore, looks at me like I’m a perp. Uses cop lingo on me instead of pet names now. He’s gotten snappy too. He’s never raised a hand to me, but he’s stormed off after slamming a hand onto the counter.
Sometimes I don’t see him for days. He won’t respond to texts or answer calls. I have to rely on Rick for updates and even he seems reluctant to give me them sometimes. Doesn’t want to get caught up in our drama I guess or make it seem like he’s picking sides. Or maybe he doesn’t even know how to answer me, maybe he doesn’t know where or what is going on with Shane either. I don’t know.
It’s after one of those stretches of him being gone that the door suddenly opens. It’s mid afternoon, real nice outside. Sunny with a light breeze and for once the humidity is at bay.
He should be finishing up a shift with Rick, but here he is in the entry of our house. His face is stern, he’s not in uniform, just a tee and jeans. Hair looking wind ruffled, like he’s been driving around with the top off his Jeep. There’s something in his hand, but I’m paying more attention to what’s behind him. Or rather who is behind him.
I don’t recogize her. Not from our friend group and not from the precinct. But she’s skinny and bleach blonde and obviously has a boob job. Her hand is gripping at Shane’s arm that doesn’t have an occupied hand and my brain falters. I do not know this woman…but she is touching my husband…and she is in our home.
Turns out what Shane holds is a packet of papers. He tosses them down on the counter in front of me. My eyes track down to them, brain still misfiring, trying to figure out what is going on. I rove over the words, not fully taking them in.
“I’m done. Got somebo’y else now.”
His voice is hard, bad cop act on full display. I look back up at his as he speaks. Spot her face, smug look on it, lips tilted in a smirk as I do. His mouth is a thin line, teeth clenched given the way his jaw ticks. I look back down to the papers and reread what the first page says at the top.
SUPERIOR COURT OF KING COUNTY
STATE OF GEORGIA
FINAL JUDGEMENT AND DECREE OF DIVORCE
I bring an unsteady hand up to flip through the pages. There are red X’s next to blank lines and more that already have his signature beside them. Everything is filled out except for my own signatures. Somewhere I notice, but do not comprehend, that he is signing the house over to me and my vehicle will remain mine. He doesn’t want anything but his clothes, his bank accounts, his Jeep, and a few other personal items.
He doesn’t want me.
This time when I look at him, really look.
There is no trace of the boyishness that drew me in so easily. No spark of mischief in his eyes. No softness to his face and posture. He is purely steel, all macho cop. And I do not recognize him. My Shane is gone, replaced by this other version of him that I do not know.
A version of him that has chosen her.
I will not give either of them the satisfaction of my tears. I feel my head nod stiffly after staring at him for several long, drawn out minutes, lips finally pressing together in numb acceptance of this moment. I will my hand to remain steady as I thumb back through those pages, knowing that I mostly fail to do so, and sign on each red marked line. Feel my nose try to get runny with suppressed tears. I hand him his papers back without looking him in the eyes.
I am faintly aware of him saying he’ll be back for his things, but my ears are ringing, his voice sounding far away as if through a fog. I will surely be haunted by the echoing sound of her giggles as they leave the same way they came, the door slamming shut behind them. I am left to the echoes of the room; the buzz of the refrigerator, the clock ticking away on the wall, the sound of Jeep tires pulling out of the driveway outside.
The sound of the bar chair I sit on scraping across the tile, the soft shuffle of my socked feet on the floor. The fabric of my shirt rustling as I clutch at my chest, my knees hitting the floor. And the wailful sound of a part of my soul leaving my body as I lose all my air.
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1469
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Nothing Compares 2 U by Chris Cornell and Not Over You by Gavin DeGraw
I don’t even want to be here. Not sure why I even agreed to this in the first place. Probably because I wanted Savannah off my case. I like her well enough and she is a good co-worker to have; always attentive to the details and hard working.
But my gosh is she a gossip hound and a meddler.
As soon as she found out that I hadn’t had any action, that it had been nearly a year since the fallout with Shane, she just had to start playing matchmaker. That was almost two months ago. She’s been up my butt about it ever since.
Greg in accounting is such a nice guy.
Tate the delivery guy sure is a looker.
Pretty sure Dave is single now.
I know a guy…
It has been unending. She finds a reason throughout the day to come over and try to set me up with someone. It is exhausting. I was fit to be tied, ready to throttle her on more than one occasion. The number of times I have told her “no” is unknown, but it has to be high, way on up there at this point. She just doesn’t seem to get it. That I was hurt in a way that I can’t even begin to express. That my trust in the male populace has been shattered beyond measure. That I’m not sure I’ll ever have it in me to move on.
Move on…those words. She said them, the other girls said them. Heck, the bartender at my local hole in the wall waxed poetic about it to me the last time I was there. They all make it sound so easy. Like I can just push a button inside me and it will wipe the slate clean.
Move on…whoever decided that was an apt way of describing how to push through your grief and heartache was an asshole. Had to be a man too. As if you can compare that kind of emotional devastation to a kick in the balls and just walk it off, son.
The only sound advice anyone has given me thus far is to book one of those places that lets you smash stuff. Truly liberating that. Or at least it was until I was being escorted out by a very concerned teenager as I cried my eyes out. My rage turned sad and kind of pathetic real fast. Guess that’s what Savannah keeps seeing in me, something sad and pathetic.
I know she means well, just wants to see me get back on my feet and thrive, but there had to be a better way than making me feel forced to be here right now.
Here being a rather upscale bar. The kind of place I wouldn’t have been caught dead in under normal conditions. I mean it has a dress code. Hence the dress that I am feeling a bit uncomfortable in and the matching heels that are killing my feet. I was early. Had to knock back a little liquid courage to manage this night…this date?
At least the guy seems nice. John, I think that’s his name. Apparently, he’s in sales. Whatever that actually means. He didn’t specify what he was selling. But his suit is too nice for it to be anything cheap. And the tie has to be actual silk. He keeps running his fingers over it to straighten it out, like he’s afraid it’s out of place. Keeps doing this thing were he licks a finger and straightens an eyebrow too.
Which is kind of weird, but Jacob? Is trying to engage me in conversation instead of dominate it…so there’s that.
His shoes probably cost more than my rent though. And he has to have a skincare routine that would make celebrities envious. No ones skin looks this clear naturally, there’s just no way.
Maybe his name’s Joe?
I’m just not feeling it though. Have this nagging voice telling me the other shoe is going to drop any minute now. Josh here, will tell me that I’m not enough and walk out.
I know his name starts with a J…
But every time I expect him to do just that, he just kind of shrugs a shoulder awkwardly and gives me this tiny grin that feels forced. Like maybe he doesn’t want to be here as much I don’t want to be here. I almost hope that’s the case at this point, because I’m fairly sure the place is about to force a check at us just to free up the space. And I’m kind of dreading that, because what if he ends up being one of those guys who doesn’t want to pay or at least doesn’t want to pay for his part of the bill? I’m pretty sure I can mange to put mine on my credit card, but I am not covering what he ate too.
To his credit, Jonathan? Does cover the bill, in full, including tip. He helps me out of my chair and into my jacket and I can’t help myself. The comparisons come without even trying. He doesn’t have the mass to him that Shane does, not as broad in the shoulders, not as stout in the legs.
His eyes are blue, not brown. Hair light, not dark. The shape of his nose is wrong. The feel of his hands is wrong. The tone of his voice is wrong. It’s all just…wrong.
Wrong because it isn’t him. It isn’t Shane. And I have to excuse myself to the restroom quickly before leaving to compose myself before I break down. I wet down my hands and carefully pat at my neck so as not to make it obvious what I’m in here doing. It would just be the icing on the cake to walk back out with water streaked makeup. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I grab paper towels to dry my hands.
When was the last time I really looked at myself?
I’ve lost weight in the face. Cheeks are a little hollow and I realize only now just how much concealer I used to hide the bags under my eyes.
What am I even doing?
When I go back out, he’s waiting by the door. We step out into the chill of the night and I try to find my voice.
“Listen…um…I just…I…You see…”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
His voice is quiet, no heat behind it. When I look at his face I see it then. We are in the same boat, have to be. That’s why Savannah set us up. He’s been hurt by someone too.
“I’m sorry. I just…I’m not there yet.”
I watch his head nod in understanding.
“Neither am I. Let me walk you to your car?”
I nod my head softly and he stays close as we head down the sidewalk. Not close enough to touch, just close enough to be there if anything were to happen. The silence between us is somber, but not unpleasant. It’s just a shared hurt, the same melancholy passing between us. When we get to my car, I turn to him with a small smile.
“For what it’s worth, I hope you find the right one to figure it out with…uh…Ja-ack?”
He gives a little chuckle.
“Mark, but thank you. I hope you do too. You have my number if you feel like you want to just talk about it with someone who gets it.”
I bite my tongue at having gotten his name so wrong. Try to give him my most apologetic look. At least he doesn’t seem put out by my mistake. He stands vigil as I load myself into my car and carefully pull away. Only a quick wave shared between us in final departure.
I return home to my apartment. To a space that is too small and too large all at once. To the clothes scattered around the bedroom. To the trash that I should have taken out yesterday. To the bed that threatens to swallow me whole just like the emotions in my chest and the shadows in my mind. To broken promises, to tear stained floors. To a life built of despair and longing.
Longing for what was, for what could have been, for what never will be. For a love lost, a heart once unburdened and unbroken. For a time when I didn’t constantly seem to cry, but laughed instead. For a time when I could sleep in a bed and not feel ghosts and ashes.
I grab a blanket and my pillow, head towards my shitty couch rather than the bed; tell myself that tomorrow this changes. Tomorrow I stop letting the ghost of Shane be what rules my life.
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1542
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Rainy Night In Georgia by Chris Young and Bad Day by Daniel Powter
Whoever in accounting convinced my boss to take this route could suck a dick. A big, unwashed, disgusting dick. My boss could too. Whatever car rental company decided to rent out a full electric vehicle in this day and age could do the same. And Hell, add the inventor of the Nissan Leaf to the list of people who could suck on that dick.
I’d never heard of a Nissan Leaf prior to arriving at the rental company’s car lot, but dear Lord Almighty, did I wish I hadn’t. The thing looks like someone took a Mini Cooper, stretched it out and then smashed it back together again to get a more streamlined shape. And the color, this weird silvery-blue tint, is barf worthy. It reflects the sun right back in my face with a vengeance and makes the car hard to locate because it takes on the color of everything around it. I mean, my bags barely fit in the back hatch of this thing and yes, the back seats fold down, but the damn doors are so small…heaven help me if I climb in back to try and get them down.
I can’t seem to get the steering wheel adjusted where I want it either and I have been driving this shit box for almost a week. As if it isn’t bad enough that it only wants to go sixty-five miles per hour, I can only go about seventy to one hundred miles before the battery dies. And if it’s hot out, that goes down significantly because the thing doesn’t have a battery cooling system.
I mean really Nissan!
But that’s not all! It takes at least eleven hours to get the battery fully charged.
Fuck me…fuck me so hard.
My boss has to hate me. That’s the only logical explanation for this. Because this trip should have taken two weeks tops, maybe less, if I was flying to the locations I need to get to. But no…I’m doing this. Stopping at every possible location along the way that I can to charge this absolute piece of overpriced, hot garbage. I’m in some random, half-Podunk Georgia town because the GPS system in this thing is functioning worse than the car, as if that’s possible. I have no clue where I am. It’s humid as hell. And to top it all off…now it’s fucking raining.
Not some little drizzle or misty thing either. Full on, cats and dogs down pour, drowning the rats rain storm. Better even still, the loud dinging alarm that is going off and the light on the dashboard in the shape of a battery. Apparently, my “excessive” windshield wiper usage is draining the battery faster. I’m not sure this day can get any worse.
But it’s me, so of course it does.
The wheel jerks a bit in my hands as the battery begins to die and the steering capability diminishes into oblivion. It is a struggle to get this piece of shit over to the shoulder of the road. And because it’s the battery that is the issue, the lights go out and I can’t turn on the hazards. The wipers aren’t even working anymore. I am a sitting duck.
A look at my phone reveals I don’t have signal. This day just keeps getting better. I throw it into park and bang my hands against the steering wheel in frustration. Slam by body backwards into the seat a couple of times too, just for good measure. A slew of curses slip from between my gritted teeth.
“Fucking shit balls. Motherfucking business trip, eat my ass.”
My frustration growing faster than the humidity was rising inside the car, I tried to find a solution. Visibility sucked ass, but it looked like there was some kind of transformer holding power pole not too far from me. Maybe I’d get lucky and it would have a charge port for the power cord to this stupid car. I wasn’t going to hold my breath, but this was a last ditch effort to save the day.
I quickly mourn what will be the loss of a good pair of shoes and fling open the door. Foolishly some part of me was convinced prior to exiting the car that I wouldn’t get too wet other than my shoes. That version of me is an idiot. I am drenched head to toe in a matter of seconds. My jeans stick to my legs uncomfortably, water sloshes in my shoes, and surely my bra is visible through my shirt, that sticks to me in all the wrong ways.
Of course, there is no plug on the power pole. Why would there be? On some random road, in some random little town? Where has my logical thought gone?
Probably into the ditch where water is rushing past me now. Making my way back to the car proves to be difficult in the now mud slopped ground. I hastily wipe at the water on my face, try to shield my eyes so I can better see where I am heading. About the time I get back to the front of the car, my every intention to get back inside it, flashing red and blue lights up my vision, the sound of a siren blaring out in two quick blasts. For a brief moment, I think I’m saved.
Oh, how wrong I am.
That tinted window rolls down just enough for dark eyes and fluffy hair to assault my water stained vision. If I was anywhere else, wearing anything not absolutely drenched in water, I’d probably be attracted to this guy and for the tiniest of moments I am. Then he opens his mouth.
“Ya can’t park here ma’am.”
Seriously…seriously?
My face drops to match the sentiment, my whole body does actually. Lips tugging down in a frown while the rest of my face blanks. Shoulders sagging in annoyance. I blink at him several times, baffled that he would say such a thing. He’s got this stupid little smug smile on his face. He thinks he’s being funny, no doubt. I’m so not in the mood.
My hand comes up, middle finger standing tall and proud before I can control it. Feel my lips curl in a half snarl too. Think better of it for half a second as I watch his face change from playful to serious. Damn it all to hell, I’m about to get a ticket for being stupid.
But then…this jerk. He just starts laughing at what is surely regret and mild terror on my face. Like it’s the funniest damn thing he’s seen all week.
I could kill a bitch right now. I am furious, so done with everything. This random cop, this stupid car, this fucking business trip. I make my way to the door of the shit box, fling it open and grab my phone and wallet. I slam the door, open the back hatch and proceed to pull my bags from the back. The sound of the cops laughter ringing behind me. I’m already wet, I’ll just start hiking until I find a hotel. This town has to have one somewhere.
I make it all of about ten feet before I hear that siren give out two more quick blasts of noise. He rolls up next to me real slow.
“Come on now…I’ll give ya a ride. Cain’t jus’ let ya wander off in this mess…Me bein' a public servant and all.”
I turn to look at him, rain dripping off of me like I’m a drowned cat. I try to keep my eyes steely and cold, if for no other reason than to show him how pissed I am at the world right now. But the look on his face is so full of genuine concern that I falter. Oh, this man is dangerous, I just know it. And it has nothing to do with the fact he’s a cop with a gun.
It’s just him. The shape of his jaw, strong and angular, the days worth of stubble shadowing it. Those eyes, dark and intense, boring into you, reading your very soul. The uptick of his lips, a smug but boyish tilt to his smile, like he knows what he’s doing and is daring you to do something about it. His grip on the steering wheel of his cruiser, surely skilled hands, loose yet solid all at the same time. The shape of him, strong shoulders filling out that police uniform, forearms on full display, the definition of the muscle there clear as day. The confident way in which he moves, not cocky, just sure.
Beggars can’t be choosers in my situation though. As much as I want to be stubborn and keep walking, the reality is that I am drenched to the bone in an unfamiliar place and this cop is my best chance of survival. I can only hope he’s one of the good ones and that this isn’t just some really good front he puts up. Reaching to open the door, I decide to take my chances.
“You know how to get to a local Hertz rental place?”
If I had known where that decision would take me, I might have kept walking.
For a bit of context. I don’t think I specified previously, but my timeline for this is that the original meeting of Shane takes place in in the years before 2010, which is when the outbreak happens in the show. But there is no zombie outbreak here and Rick doesn’t get shot. Instead, Shane falls in love and gets married then gets a personality altering brain tumor…
Much happier timeline! *Heavy sarcasm*
Anyway, just wanted to clear things up as to why the electric vehicle in this is such a piece of crap. 2010 is actually the year that full electric vehicles hit the market, but there were no Tesla's yet. So, I’m stretching reality a bit with the electric vehicle being driven pre-2010, even more so that any business or company would have actually thought it a lucrative business venture to use one as a rental vehicle. But Nissan put out the Leaf first and it sounds like it sucked major ass. Seems like they’ve come a LONG, LONG way since then.
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1275
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Little Wonders by Rob Thomas and Blackbird by The Beatles
It started several weeks ago. This tired down to my bones feeling even though I hadn’t done anything strenuous. Everything just feels off. Like I’ve overexerted myself, but I haven’t done anything. I mean nothing out of the ordinary anyway.
I did the laundry and the shopping. Had date night with Shane. But I haven’t hit up a gym or been moving furniture. But the way I’ve been feeling, you’d think I’d participated in a triathlon. I just want to lay down and sleep the day away. It’s like something is weighing me down, fogging up my brain. I’ve been stubbornly putting off going to a doctor. It doesn’t feel serious enough to mess with the expense. Sure, we have insurance because of Shane being a cop, but my gosh the deductible is outrageous. We make decent money together, but not enough to go to the doctor all willy-nilly over nothing with a deductible like that.
I’ve been hiding it from Shane, but I think he’s started to catch on that something isn’t quite right. I just don’t want to bother him with it. He’s got enough going on with this string of robberies taking place. His shifts have been longer because of the patrols put in place to try and catch the guys. I don’t want to add to his plate.
But now I’m stuck hanging with Lori when I’m not at work, because Rick has gone and freaked her out by accidentally letting some details about the robberies slip. That man’s going to lose his job one of these days over something stupid. Now she’s convinced that she can’t be alone with Carl in her own home. So, I got volunteered to come over until Rick got home.
Thanks Shane!
I love Lori to pieces most days, but she can be hard to love on other days. And when she’s got her mind wrapped around something that makes her panicky…Heaven help me.
Maybe this is Shane’s way of making sure I’m okay. Though he could have gone about it better. Like maybe asking me…What a novel idea!
I am currently slumped over on the couch, Carl is watching some animated show on a kids channel. All I know is there are robots on the screen and he’s hooked. It feels like if I tried to get up I’d face plant, I am so lethargic. Lori has started up dinner in the kitchen. The sound of pots and pans mixes with the explosions from the show and threatens to give me a headache. But it is the smell that wafts in from the kitchen that has me shooting to my feet.
My stomach rolls and my gag reflex kicks in. I dart for the nearest bathroom, because the closest trash can is in the kitchen and I have no desire to go closer to what is causing me to hurl.
As soon as I have emptied the contents of my stomach, Lori appears behind me, a concerned look upon her face. I try to wave her off, try to say I’ve probably caught some bug from work. But she has this look on her face. She comments on how tired I’ve been and I fail to see what that has to do with my having barfed in her bathroom.
“Last time I was that tired and ended up hugging a toilet I was pregnant with Carl.”
She says it so matter of fact-ly. Like there’s no way the thought has crossed my mind. And, well, if I’m honest, it hasn’t.
Shane and I tried the entire time we were together after we first got married and nothing came of it. If he hadn’t started pulling away we both would have ended up seeing specialists to make sure we could even have kids. We hadn’t actively been trying since we renewed our vows, but we certainly hadn’t been safe in our extracurriculars either.
And there was no shortage of extracurriculars, let me tell you that.
Lori’s words brought a startling clarity. I was not sure when my last cycle was. I had for sure missed one, maybe even two. There had just been so much happening as of late. Shane going back to patrols. I had major projects come up at work. And then these robberies had started too. I hadn’t been paying attention. I’ve been so stressed out.
How had I not realized? I was wide eyed, slack jawed staring up at Lori.
“Come on. I’ve got some tests in my bathroom.”
I pushed myself up off the tile to follow her. Thankfully, Carl was still engrossed in his show. I let the door click shut behind us as Lori opened a cabinet. She produced a box and opened it to hand over two tests. I was suddenly nervous.
“Hey. Look at me. Shane ain’t gonna care that y’all didn’t plan it. He’s gonna be happy no matter what.”
She was right. I shooed her out the door. Planted myself on the toilet and tried to perform under pressure. It was no easy feat. Pretty sure I sat there for a good five minutes before it happened. And then it was the waiting game. I let Lori back in after I’d washed my hands and we leaned against the counter.
It was nerve wracking, standing there and waiting. Longest couple of minutes of my life, waiting on the appearance of some lines on a stick. I tried to breath steady. Did the whole in for four, hold for four or whatever it is. Tried to keep my fingers from fidgeting and my leg from bouncing. Wasn’t entirely successful with any of those things. Lori stood like a rock beside me, eyes on the timer on her phone.
I jolted when it went off. Mind having drifted away to thoughts of small versions of me and Shane. I was almost scared to look, but pulled it together and did. Two sticks sat on the counter top.
Two bold colored lines appeared on both.
I had doctors appointments to make.
“Well?”
I turned my head sharply to look at Lori. A manic sort of laugh bubbled up out of me and I nodded my head quickly as I started to smile. I felt tears gather in my eyes. She wrapped me in a big hug until we heard a car door slam shut outside. The boys were in.
We made it back to the living area, just as they came through the door. Carl rushing to his father for a hug and to tell him all about his day. Shane came swaggering in behind them, big, proud grin on his face.
“We got ‘em.”
I knew he was talking about the robbers, but didn’t care. Knew that meant I wouldn’t have to spend each day at the Grimes house anymore, but didn’t care. I found myself falling into him, pulling him as close as I could get him. I felt him give Lori a questioning look over my shoulder. Knew she was letting him know it wasn’t hers to tell.
I had to tell him. He needed to know. I wanted him to feel this too. This excitement, this joy, so full to bursting within me. Wanted to watch his face change as it sank in. I grabbed his hands and tugged him toward the back door. Let the last golden rays dance around us as we slid outside.
It came out of me so breathless.
“I think I’m pregnant.”
And I was right, his face did change.
I only thought I’d seen how big his smile could get. I was off by a long shot.
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1276
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Fearless by Jackson Dean and You Worry Me by Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats
I should be asleep. Eyes closed, breath easy and slow. Body should be turned into Shane’s, tucked against him with an arm over my hip, savoring his warmth and these final blissful moments before the day has to begin. Before the stupid alarm clock that he has to have starts blaring out that incessant Mannt! Mannt! Mannt! Mannt!
But I’m not.
Instead, I am beside him in the bed, staring at his profile as he sleeps. My mind running a mile a minute, heart steadily beginning to edge toward that pace where it feels like it might jump out of my chest. There are very few things in this life that bother me anymore, that really get to me on a deep level and freak me out.
I am by no means fearless. Bugs are weird and will make me squeal sometimes. Heights freak me out in certain situations too. And I mean, if someone had me at gun point, I’d probably be a frozen, babbling mess. But nothing, absolutely nothing, gets to me the way that Shane can. And today is the day.
It was a painstaking process for him. He hates paperwork. It’s the one thing that leaves him truly grouchy. And there was so much paperwork, both to get medically cleared and as part of his job while he was on desk duty. All the evaluations, both physical and mental, to make sure he was fit for work again. Fit for active duty.
I don’t know what he’d have done if they said they had to let him go or he had to remain at a desk.
Not to mention the process of interviews and meetings that he and Rick had with the Chief of Police and HR in order to get them paired back up together. It had been an ongoing process that I had found myself suddenly thrust into the middle of when we got back together. I’d seen him agonize over it. Seen the worry and the fear etch itself across his face as he considered that he might have to figure out a different career path.
But all his worries have been for not, because today he will wake up and climb back into a patrol car with Rick. Gun at his side and any number of possibilities for violence ahead of him.
And that’s what worries me.
The idea of losing him again has been something I’ve tried to keep at bay for weeks now. Had been more successful with it when I had been planning a wedding ceremony. When my mind had been consumed by thoughts of dresses and flowers and keeping my breathing steady rather than panicking.
Now that is behind us and there is nothing major to focus on except for this. The list seems truly endless.
Car accident, stabbing, concussion, shot…
Heaven forbid he get shot.
Guess I’m still trying to keep my breathing steady rather than panicking.
I catch sight of the digital numbers on his alarm clock change over his bare shoulder. Know that I am mere seconds away from it waking him for the day. I drink in the sight of him. Face half buried in the pillow as he sleeps on his stomach, shoulders exposed where the sheet doesn’t reach quite high enough. Arms tucked up under the pillow, one outstretched to fall beneath mine. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes easy. The way his hair, now grown back out, almost too long to be acceptable for dress code, falls against his forehead with just a hint of a curl beginning to show.
If I could stop time and never let this moment end to keep him safe I would. But I’m reminded of how he was just last night. So excited to get back out there, to not be stuck sitting at a desk anymore. His smile had been blinding. He’d joked about all the shit he was going to give Rick now that they’d be back on the beat. His accent had thickened with it.
He was ready for it. Aching for something to do with himself after all this time. The desk job had made him so antsy that he’d taken to hitting up a gym several times a week and it showed. He filled everything out so much more than he did previously. Had even had to buy new shirts because of it.
And I couldn’t really complain, it had made our time in the bedroom a little more interesting. He could man handle me even better than he did before and that was exciting in it’s own right. But it didn’t stop me from worrying. So long as he was in law enforcement, I don’t think I’d ever truly stop worrying.
Time was up now. The alarm was blaring, making me jolt ever so slightly. I watched as he began to shift, body turning away from me to shut it off. A large hand stretching out to slam down on the offending electronic. He let out a deep groan, body stretching out beneath the sheets, more of his bare torso being exposed as the sheet slid low.
Any other day I would have become distracted by the motion. Would have reached out to trail my fingers over each newly exposed inch in a teasing manner. Would have watched his face go from sleepy to hungry. Would have seen where the morning would take us.
Today was not any other day, though.
Today I just watched, face somber, trying to scar every little detail about him into my mind. Couldn’t help but feel like I had to; Feel like this would be the last time I laid eyes on him.
He climbed from the bed, physically shaking the sleep from himself by rolling his shoulders and neck. It was only then that he turned back toward the bed. Normally he’d find me just beginning to wake, sleepily reaching for him and muttering complaints about the alarm. His face lit up with surprise at finding me well awake.
Brows knit together when he noticed the look on my face. It felt like I might burst into tears at any moment now. He had to know why I looked like this. And as I felt the first tear fall, his knee was hitting the bed and he was crawling toward me. Strong arms wrapping around me as he tried to calm me down. Muttered reassurances against my temple until I had settled.
He kept me close as he got ready for the day. He helped me into something more suitable for the day than my night clothes. Kept leaving light kisses on my hands and cheeks and nose as we moved around together. Held my hand the entire time he drank his coffee. Let me tame his hair and do up the buttons on his shirt. Stood right behind me and kept his hands on my waist while I packed up his lunch for the day.
And when it was time for him to head for the station he kissed me proper, took my breath away.
“I’ll text ya all day when I can.”
His parting words did little to settle my rolling stomach as I watched him get in his Jeep and leave. But it would have to be enough.
Rick’s text later that he would make sure he got home safe helped. But it would only be the moment that Shane walked back through that door that would truly put me at ease.
Then I’d wake to do it all over again the next day and the next and the next.
Chapter 20 : I've Been Holding My Breath All Night
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1095
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Deep End by Daughtry and Ordinary (Wedding Version) by Alex Warren
The sky is lit with vibrant shades of orange, pink, and blue. They dance along the clouds in bold wisps, reflecting down in a truly brilliant display. I catch glimpses of it through the back door, where I wait for my cue to enter the backyard. A small group is gathered out there, mostly blocking the house from where I know Shane stands beneath the tree house. I see the lights Lori and I strung up earlier in the day turn on and know that it’s almost time. My stomach flutters in excitement and anticipation once more, those nerves flaring to life inside me. My grip tightens on the simple bouquet that had been bought from a local grocery store, a few petals come loose and fall gently to the floor.
My chest feels ready to burst, heart pumping so fast. My breathing speeds up, like I’ve been holding it or have just run a marathon. I can’t tell whether my hands are wet with sweat or if it’s left over water from the flowers I hold. I recall the words he’d told me months ago.
“Rip my fuckin' heart out too. Cause I’d give ya the damn world if I could.”
Those words make sense to me now. I understand them so profoundly. We both lived a lie for too long, even if he will never remember it and I didn’t know it at the time. It has changed us both, perhaps me more than him. But I never want to see him like that again. I only want to see that smile on his face.
My feet shift beneath me, aching to get this show on the road, to make the short trek to where he stands. I have never been this jittery in my life. I find my head tilting to the floor, eyes fluttering shut. I take a deep breath and let it out in a rush, try to center and calm myself. I let my mind drift to every teasing smile, every soft touch, every warm look. Feel my cheeks stretch with a toothy grin at the thought.
A soft knock on the glass brings me back to the present. My eyes shoot open and my head jerks up to find Lori on the other side. She gives me a quick nod of her head.
It’s time.
My jitters slide away with the opening of the door. A soft instrumental plays from a Bluetooth speaker somewhere closer to the tree. Our friends and family stand grouped together, but part to give me a away through. And then he’s there before me.
Hair wind swept like he drove the Jeep over with the top off or the windows down. Dark jeans and his good boots, with a light blue button up on and the top couple of buttons open. I see his face change to a disbelieving look. Goofy smirk from whatever Rick had just told him fading into a slack jawed one. Eyes going from full of mirth to his lashes lined in tears. Rick’s face screams “told ya so,” like he knew that Shane wouldn’t be able to keep it together when he saw me.
I feel my own tears gathering, but my smile is beaming; cheeks hurting so bad from it. I keep my steps measured though I desperately want to run to him. And at the last second, right before I can touch him, I hand the flowers off to Lori.
Taking his hands feels like I’ve just been pulled from frigid waters. I gasp but then breath steady for what feels like the first time in ages. Warmth overcomes me, rushes through my veins like wildfire. The way he’s looking at me, he must feel it too.
Rick’s voice is inconsequential, muffled by the sound of my blood rushing in my ears. He speaks of love and life and second chances. Of overcoming and pain and rediscovery. I don’t hear any of it. I’m lost in dark eyes that look right through me, threaten to scorch me from the inside out. Something is said about rings and vows. I’m faintly aware of Shane vowing his undying love, to always protect me, and so on. I have to be shaken from my stupor so I can say my own vows.
Every words feels like it isn’t nearly enough. So, I say the only thing in my head, his own words repeat back as the ultimate promise.
“I’d rip my heart out. Cause I’d give ya the damn world if I could.”
Then I feel Carl handing me a ring, Shane’s ring. The same one I’d originally given him, that somehow he had kept in his things despite it all. I slide it on to his finger and then a ring, so similar to my old one and yet so different at the same time, is sliding onto my finger. Rick’s voice suddenly seems so loud.
“You can kiss your bride.”
Cheers, whistles, and claps arise from the people around us. A hand slides up along my jaw and draws me to him, the other wrapping at my waist to pull me in flush. I expect his lips to crash into mine, but that’s not what happens. Shane grins at me. Just stares into my eyes for a long moment and I’m suddenly reminded of the look on his face the first time he saw me after waking up from that surgery. Raw, so full of emotion and open. So full of love, so desperate, so soft. Looking at the one thing that made sense to him in that moment. Eyes that cut right through me then the same as they do now.
I know I will never regret the heart ache that lead us here, the struggle to re-find myself and my place in the world. Every tear, every breakdown, every curse, shout, and sob was for this. I just didn’t know it.
Some day, Lori will give me a picture of the kiss that came after. I’ll hang it up among all the pictures the four walls of our home holds. And a day will come when I look at it and I think of a line from a beloved classic movie. Peter Falk’s voice ringing out in my memory saying:
“Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that have been rated the most passionate, the most pure - this one left them all behind.”
Maybe there’s something to that sentiment after all.
Chapter 19 : This Love Is Strong, Why Do I Feel Weak?
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1441
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
How Will I Know by Sam Smith and Walking On Sunshine by JP Cooper
Friday had come. Tomorrow was the day. In some ridiculous, old fashioned notion, Lori and Rick had kidnapped me away to their house for the night. I had put up a bit of a fight, but Shane had kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear that it would make the next night all the more worth it. I’d still huffed something fierce, rolled my eyes good and hard, but went with them willingly. And if anyone tried to say that I stuck my tongue out at Shane as I climbed into the backseat of Lori’s car, they’re nothing but a big fat liar.
I’m back in that guest room for the night. The bed doesn’t feel any smaller than it did last time, but the weight on my heart and soul does. There is no longer that deep pressure in my chest with every heart beat, that feeling of knots tangled in my gut. I can breath easy now.
When my head hits the pillow, I am not assaulted by the smell of Shane. The sheets have obviously been laundered, lavender and that crisp freshness of new laundry is all that meets my nose. It saddens me slightly, brings a faint frown to my face. For having gotten so accustomed to sleeping without him for so long, I have surely fallen right back into needing him close at night. I sleep easier with him near; feel safer and more content than when I am alone.
I roll to my side. Try to find sleep in a room that is too quiet, in a bed that is too large, on a mattress that is too unfamiliar. I let out a sigh, all the air flushing from my lungs in an attempt to relax. But my mind is abuzz with thoughts of the day to come. Will Shane have gotten a hair cut? What color will he wear? What if I trip?
Oh gosh…what if he changes his mind?
My breath catches, eyes going wide. Surely not.
He wouldn’t.
He won’t.
Will he?
I sit up, sheets falling down to my waist before I push them aside and slide out of the bed. I pace a moment in the dark as this new found worry tries to settle in, mind running rampant with thoughts of every possible reason Shane might change his mind.
What if we moved too fast? Jumped back into it before either of us was emotionally ready?
My pacing becomes frantic at some point, my steps louder than I realize. I must make a decent bit of noise, because the bedroom door cracks open and a soft knock echoes into the room.
I immediately freeze and turn toward the door. The light is very low, only the glow from a digital clock and a night light in the hall, but I can just make out the shadowed figure and face of Carl in the crack of the door.
“Are you okay?”
His voice is soft, tinged with concern.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, Carl. I’m sorry, everything’s fine. You should get back to bed. It’s a big day tomorrow.”
His gaze is questioning as his eyes fall on me.
“You look scared. Dad said you love Uncle Shane. Why are you scared?”
“Have you ever had to get in front of your class and show off a project you did?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you get all funny feeling in your tummy when you had to do that?”
“I guess.”
“It’s sort of like that with me right now. I’m not scared…just nervous.”
He looks at me for a while and then slides into the room.
“Mom always says that if I’m nervous, I should tell her. That way she can be there to help me not feel nervous. Like when I have to go to the dentist. I don’t like the dentist. But I can be here…for you…if you want.”
I always knew Carl was a sweet kid, but he’d interacted with Shane more than me, even before everything fell apart. To see him now, willingly offering me help, even though he doesn’t really know how to help exactly, means the world to me. And I don’t really want to be alone right now.
“I’d like that. A lot.”
I watch as he pads over to the bed and crawls into the side that the sheets aren’t open on. He shimmies back and forth a bit, trying to get comfy and then pats the bed beside him, asking me to join. I can’t help the soft laugh that bubbles up out of me. I sigh again as I get back in the bed. Carl is a much needed distraction from the demons in my head. Once I’m situated with my back to the headboard I look back over at Carl.
Sitting is not good enough. This little boy looks completely done with my shit and signals for me to lay down, even wiggles a bit to show that I need to be tucked in and comfy. I let myself slide down into the sheets once more and wiggle about dramatically for good measure. It gets a giggle out of him; mission accomplished. He makes a show of closing his eyes tightly, so I let me eyes slide shut.
I focus in on the sound of his breathing, on the softness of the sheets. I feel my muscles give way and become lax. Feel my breath even out and slow. And right as I am on the cusp of drifting off, I feel a small hand wrap around one of mine. A steady reminder that he is there, that he will try to keep my nerves at bay. The last thing I am aware of as sleep takes me is his voice, barely a whisper.
“I just want my Aunt back.”
My sleep is dreamless. Mind floating into a place that a young boy willed into being. A place where I have no worries, no nerves to drag me down. I wake the next morning in the same position I fell asleep in with the exception of a small hand in mine. I hear hushed voices in the hall. Lori scolding Carl for disturbing me and his responding argument that he wasn’t, that he was helping.
I stretch out and then raise my voice to let Lori know that Carl had, indeed, been helping. She gives Carl and I a skeptical look, eyes darting between us and nose scrunched up, like she doesn’t quite believe us. I ruffle Carl’s hair and reassure her that he wasn’t being troublesome, but had actually helped me get to sleep.
She finally gives in and we all head down for breakfast. As soon as the dishes are cleaned up, Lori is whisking me away to the backyard to set up some simple decorations. We end up draping string lights around the base of Carl’s tree house and around the trunk of the tree it sits in to make a makeshift wedding arch. The ceremony isn’t supposed to be until close to sunset, so the lights will look pretty. We move several of her potted plant arrangements over that way too, just to give it a little extra something.
The time flies by so fast as we move things and then move them again until it’s perfect. Before I know it, Lori is ushering me back to the guestroom to start getting ready. I grab a quick shower while she lays out my dress, shoes, and jewelry. When I get out I can hear people downstairs and in the back yard and Lori has to keep me from looking out the window.
I know Shane is out there somewhere now. We’re so close I can taste it. But that might just be the smell of the food making it’s way up from the kitchen where Rick and family are hard at work getting the “reception” meal ready. That bubble of nerves is back in my gut, making me jittery with anticipation. I want to see him. See his face when he sees me. I’m so ready I could cry. Don’t want Lori angry at me for all her hard work at making me look presentable though.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I stand to get into my dress. Catch the reflection of Lori’s softly smiling face over my shoulder, tears almost glistening on her lash line. This must be what they mean, when they say that a bride glows.
I don’t remember looking like this the first time, feeling like this the first time.
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1166
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Stargazing (Moonlight Version) by Miles Smith
Lori was more excited than Rick was. Which honestly I didn’t think anybody could have been more excited than Rick, but she proved me wrong. If it had been physically possible for that woman to pick me up and twirl me around I think she would have. She settled for hugging the life out of me as she squealed instead. And when she was done with that, immediately launched into planning mode.
Did we have a date, a place, a time? What about flowers? And food, catering or no? Was I going to wear white this time or another color? Questions upon questions, she asked them all. I had to settle her down so we could explain it all.
There was no timeline, not yet anyway. I mean Shane had a ring to buy and me a dress. We both needed to get moved back into the house as well and that felt like it should take priority for some reason. There were work schedules to take into account. I had only been working this new job for a few weeks, Shane said he was supposed to be getting cleared to go back into the field soon. Which was a whole emotional meltdown I was trying to avoid. He hadn’t heard whether he’d be back in a squad car with Rick or not yet either and that didn’t help settle my mind on the matter.
“No, ya don’t gotta get officiated, Rick. It’s not a real weddin' anyway.”
Apparently, Rick had his own questions too. Shane was explaining to him that he was mostly just there for appearances and to help move things along, so we didn’t get lost in re-establishing our vows to one another.
Rick suggested that we tentatively set a date for several months out. That way there was time to adjust to schedules and get moved, but still plan the ceremony.
“I don’t want to wait that long.”
There was conviction behind my voice as I said it. I’d wasted enough time, I wouldn’t waste another minute more than was necessary going forward. Shane’s eyes caught mine, his fingers twining with mine as he smiled.
“Me neither.”
Further discussion gave us a better timeline to work with. Shane and Rick would spend the week end working to get things moved from my apartment and the guest room back to our house. I would see about getting with my buildings landlord during that time to let them know I would no longer be living in the building.
The following week Rick and Shane would see about getting a day they could leave early. This would let Shane have some backup while ring shopping. And I would get with Lori on one or more days, when my shift ended, to run around and see about finding a dress. If everything went well, then that Saturday, the Grimes family and several close friends would be invited to the Grimes’ backyard for the vow renewal of the century.
Nothing fancy; no crazy decor, no multi-tier cakes. Just some good ole, down home cooking, good company, a store bought bouquet. And, Lord willing, decent weather.
The first part of the plan went off without a hitch. Rick and Shane had everything moved out and over to the house in just over six hours. My landlord, an elderly couple, were very understanding and kind about the situation. Even though I was technically breaking my lease early, they gave me my deposit as a wedding gift of sorts. I couldn’t thank them enough.
Living under the same roof again was both familiar and new. Shane’s routine was mostly the same; still showered in the mornings, still packed a lunch just in case something came up and he couldn’t go out, still came home at the same time. But mine had changed a bit. I was still getting used to a new work environment. Found myself wanting to shower to wake up and to wash away the day. But falling into bed at the end of the day was so much better now. There was nothing better than a strong arm at my waist and a warm body pressed against me to make the day fade away.
The second part of the plan took considerably longer. I figured that I could easily find a simple enough dress to wear, but was sorely mistaken. After day three of dress shopping with Lori, I was starting to lose hope. Shane had been giving me knowing little smiles ever since his ring shopping trip with Rick, so I knew good and well that they’d had a successful experience at the jewelers. It frustrated me to no end.
Finding a dress wasn’t helped by the fact that I still hadn’t narrowed down what I was looking for. White didn’t really feel right, but I wasn’t against it. I hadn’t been able to check off any other colors besides the ones that didn’t go with my complexion either. And black felt morbid, all things considered. I was starting to think I should just wear jeans.
Thumbing through yet another rack, Lori’s voice making suggestions in the background was beginning to give me a headache. I was about ready to call it quits, again, when I spotted it. Something about it was striking to me, though it was a surprisingly simple dress. It had no bells and whistles, no daring neck line or pattern. No abundant ruffles to be found. But I knew this was the one.
I pulled it off the rack carefully, ran the fabric between my fingers. I had to try it on. Lori was still chattering away behind me.
“Lori.”
My voice was so soft she didn’t hear me.
“Lori.”
A little louder. This time she turned, cut herself off mid sentence when she saw me holding a dress. We just looked at each other for a long moment before she gestured toward the dressing rooms. My feet where moving in an instant, sliding into one of the booths. I could hear the clack of Lori’s boots as she paced outside.
As soon as I smoothed it into place, I knew I’d been right. I’d found my dress. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at my reflection. Sliding out of the dressing room, I watched as Lori raised a hand to cover her mouth. The uptick of her smile was just visible in the apples of her cheeks.
“He won’t know what hit him.”
Laughter bubbled out of me as she said it.
It was real now. Could feel it in my bones, in my gut, in my soul. The warmth of it spreading through my veins and wrapping me in joy so profound it threatened to bring me to my knees.
We walked out of the store, arms linked and smiles oh, so bright. That dream, the one about the future that I had shoved away, stomped on, buried so deep…
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1011
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Between The Raindrops by Lifehouse and Falling In Love Again by Eagle-Eye Cherry
I don’t remember saying yes, though surely I did. Just knew I couldn’t be so far from him any longer. Shot forward, crashing into him. Lips colliding, somehow without knocking together any teeth. One of his hands wrapped firmly around my waist and the other slid up to cup the back of my neck. I threaded one hand into his hair and fisted his shirt with the other at the small of his back. We broke apart breathless, but laughing. Filled to the brim with so much joy it was flowing over. He staggered to his feet, pulling me with him toward the door.
The bright of the day greeted us as we exited my apartment building. His shirt was rumpled, hair tousled in every direction. I had to look a mess, in last nights now wrinkled outfit, makeup surely askew. But I didn’t care what I looked like, didn’t care if anyone saw. I only cared about the feeling in my chest, Shane’s hand in mine, and the matching smiles we sported. He helped me load back up in his Jeep, jogged around to his own side with such enthusiasm.
And we drove. Windows rolled down, the roar of the tires spinning on pavement as we sped along. Didn’t know where Shane’s destination at that moment was, just needed to feel the rush of the breeze on my skin. Stuck an arm out the window and laughed loud as I let my hand float along the air current. Felt a hand reach over to thread our fingers together tight. Glanced over just in time to see him lift it and press a kiss to my knuckles, eyes never leaving the road.
Didn’t take long to figure out where we were headed. The neighborhood too familiar to not remember. And there she stood, real estate sign still in the front yard, having not been collected yet for some reason. Sale pending still across the bottom of it like part of some bad dream. When we parked Shane headed for the door, I headed for that sign.
Snatched it up like it had personally offended me and tossed it in a trash can by the roadside. Slammed the lid of it closed and felt some small, still broken part of me thread itself back together. I turned around to the most gorgeous sight. Door of the house wide open, Shane at the top of the steps to the porch slowly pulling off his belt. A sight to behold indeed. Better than any wet dream I’d ever had.
This was mine, to keep, to stay, to hold onto…forever.
Til death do us part.
I wasn’t one for running much, but I did so now. Laughter ringing out as I did. When I reached the top of the steps he scooped me up, made me squeal like he had that day at the beach all that time ago. He carried me inside, all the way upstairs to a bed we hadn’t shared in forever.
We shared it now, shared so much more too. Space, breathes, skin to skin the entire time. Covered ourselves in the dust and ghosts of what had been in these walls and washed them away with sweat and promises of what was to come. Stitched up wounds that had been created here with a stronger love than the despair that had made them.
Lay tangled and basking in the aftermath of it all, chests heaving, hearts racing, fingers tracing. Not a word spoken for some time.
“Gonna hav’to tell…Rick and Lori…I’m movin' out.”
“Gotta break…my lease agreement… Don’t think I’m…getting my deposit back.”
“I’ll cover it for ya.”
Nearly started crying with laughter, the ridiculousness of it all.
“You gotta buy me another ring.”
My laughter grew almost hysterical as his died down.
“The hell’d you do with the one I gotcha?”
He’d shot up to look at me, propped up on one elbow. I looked over at him, laughing even harder. Tears actually falling now, because it wasn’t really that funny. Was actually a little pathetic what I’d done. Definitely stupid. But I had been a grief stricken woman then. Had wanted to forget everything, especially him.
“I threw it in the damn lake. The one out at Sweetwater Creek.”
“Threw it in th— Woman! I swear.”
He flopped back down, threw an arm over his face. But his chest started to pulse with silent laughter.
“Don’t guess I can blame ya.”
“Burned the dress too, so I got to find another one.”
“We really doin' this?”
“Yeah, unless you don’t want to.”
“Ain’t ‘bout what I want. Told ya I’d give ya the world if I could.”
I could feel the soft look on my face. Didn’t really know what I looked like, but he reached up to caress my cheek, eyes shining and then leaned in to kiss me.
This right here, I never wanted it to end. It was always supposed to be this. Nothing was supposed to destroy us, to tear us down. Maybe it hadn’t though. Maybe it took us down a few pegs, humbled us. We were stronger for it, a more solid foundation, a better understanding of each other now. Were there things that we still didn’t have figured out? Sure. But we’d figure it out together, one step at a time.
And we could start with how exactly to go about getting re-married or renewing our vows or whatever this could be considered. As the light shifted across the room we did just that. Planned.
It didn’t need to be anything big or official, the official part was still in place. I suggested Rick could “officiate” and Shane liked the idea. So we really just needed to figure out when and where and make sure that Rick was okay with it. Even though Shane insisted that the man would likely be over joyed simply at the fact that we had worked things out.
He was right, of course.
Just wish I had a picture of Rick’s face when we told him.
Chapter 16 : You're Gonna Be The One That Saves Me
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1248
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Wonderwall by Ryan Adams
Clarity is a fickle bitch. Doubt anyone’s ever said that before. But it’s funny how the most clear anything has ever been to me is when I’m a tear streaked mess, wrapped in my husbands arms and it all seemed so murky just seconds prior. But the dust has finally settled, the turmoil in my gut is gone.
I know with full certainty that I love this man, that I am in love with this man, and that not a second more can be wasted. I have done too much of that lately, wasting.
I let my sobs subside, carefully taking the time to catch my breath and steady myself. At some point during my breakdown he had moved us toward the couch, where he had settled us. I cling to him there, one arm clutching at the back of his shirt and the other clinging to an arm that is wrapped carefully around me. I shift ever so slightly and draw my legs up to rest over his so that I am draped over his lap at a bit of an angle, feet dangling over open air.
Sinking into him with a deep, shaky breath has my eyes fluttering shut. A wave of exhaustion overcoming me with the exit of my fears and overload of emotions. I still feel his lips moving at my temple, continuing to utter the softest of reassurances. The strength of his grip lulls me into the deepest sense of calm I have felt since before the tumor started messing with his head. I am at peace here in in his arms, in this moment.
It is that sense of peace that I allow to drag me under. I am faintly aware of my head drifting toward his chest, coming to rest just over his clavicle. I feel his lips press to the top of my head. With a full body sigh, I relax into the darkness of sleep.
When I wake, it is not to sunlight, despite the open curtains. Nor is it to the smell of food or coffee, or even to the sounds of the world around us beginning the day. It is to the steady drum of Shane’s beating heart, the rise and fall of each easy breath he takes, and the fading scent of the cologne he wore the night before. I am warm in his arms, secure, not just in his grip, but in the peace I still wake with.
Despite the crick in my neck, I tilt my head to stare. Let my eyes roam over his face, lax in sleep. No creases on his forehead or between his brow. He’s so beautiful in these moments, when the world isn’t on his shoulders; when I am not causing him grief; when his job is not weighing him down. Looks so much like the young boy in all the old pictures Rick and Lori have shown me.
Looking at him now makes me feel so full, heart ready to burst at the seams with the emotion for him I hold. I feel a lazy, but joyful grin make it’s way onto my face, stretch a hand lazily up toward his face to trace at his features softly.
“Thank you.”
I whisper it to the steadiness of the room around us. The ticking of the clock somewhere on the wall, the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the steady drip, drip, drip of the faucet that I have yet to get fixed. Have no intention of him hearing me say it and yet, somehow, he does.
“Don’t got nothin' to thank me for.”
Gravelly and laced with thick sleep comes his voice. His eyes do not open, but his breathing changes ever so slightly and his grip on me shifts. I feel him breathe me in once, deep, for the comfort it brings him or the reassurance that I am actually there, that this isn’t a dream, I don’t know.
“But I do.”
And it’s true. I have everything to thank him for. For saving me from myself, from what ever dark road I may have ventured down if he hadn’t been insistent in the most patient of ways. If he had been anyone else, other than himself, I truly don’t know where life would have taken me at this point. I shudder to think of how bad it could have been. My mind conjures images of what could have been without my asking it too. I see this very room full of empty bottles. I see myself being strapped to a bed with restraints and sedatives being administered. Would either of those things have happened?
He pulls me in closer to him, shifts us a bit to slide a leg between mine. Presses his lips to my forehead and sighs nice and deep, entirely content to lay here in this moment forever. Unbidden my body does the same, but I tilt my head to let our lips brush gently. His eyes flutter open into soft slits, the corners of his mouth tilting upward in a sleepy smile. Those dark eyes are so full of love and softness, peering into my very soul. I hope he sees it mirrored in my own.
“I love you.”
“Love ya more.”
I tuck my head under his chin and giggle. Feel like a love struck teenager for a minute, stomach aflutter with emotion.
“Not possible.”
And I’m not sure that it actually is possible for him to love me more than I do him. He only gave up when I asked him to. Even then he hadn’t really given up, just given me space to decide whether I was really going to give up. There is no question that I love him for it and nothing I ever do can compare to that. I know now that his love for me is unshakable and should it ever seem like something has shaken it, then something is terribly wrong.
“Marry me.”
I blurt it out. We’ve already gone back to the start, dated all over again. May as well keep going. I feel him shift to glance down at me and when I meet his eyes, they are wide and bright, with light humor dancing there.
“We’re already married, Sugar.”
“Maybe, but we dated again, so…”
I let it trail off, give him the chance to catch my drift. He gives a deep, yet soft chuckle. His chest vibrates with it, even though my ears hardly pick up the sound of it. Those strong arms move from around me and glide over my arms, his legs pulling back as he shifts to slide off the couch. Where I expect him to stand, he does not. One knee drops to the floor and his hands find mine. He kneels before me, down on one knee for the second time in his life, and I begin to cry as soft laughter shakes out of me.
His voice is sure and strong as he asks two words. Grip on my hands gentle yet firm. Eyes glowing with all the possibilities for the future, our future, the one I’d thought long gone. His shoulders are straight, chest puffed out with the confidence of a man who is sure and steady, prepared to take on the world for the woman before him. We have been here before and yet it was so different then.
We know now, there is no storm we can not weather.
Chapter 15 : Let's Take Our Chances And Roll The Dice
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1251
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Starting Over by Chris Stapleton and Start Of Something Good by Daughtry
Over the next several months, Shane made it a point to recreate one of our original dates. Or at least recreate it as best he could from what he remembered. I was yet to determine if this was more or less disastrous than the first go around.
The first date he took me on was that very day he gave me the roses. I grabbed my things and he held the door open for me. Checked to make sure I was buckled in good, giving me a cheeky wink as he did. He’d taken me to a local diner, a hot spot among the officers of King’s County for all meals, especially if they were on duty. We’d been here plenty of times in the first few months of us dating because his schedule had been crazy at the time. Lunch breaks was about all he could spare back then.
The booth seats where as sticky now as they always were. The waitresses still mostly all the same. So when we sat in his usual booth, we got the usual waitress. She gave him a raised brow and I immediately keyed into the fact that he had told her plenty about what had been going on with us.
“Gotta win the wife back over.”
He declared, only a hint of shame creeping into his tone. I let my shoulders slump and my head fall into the palm of my hand. I half expected him to tell her that he had to make his wife his girlfriend to get his wife back at this rate. Thankfully things got better from there. We managed to talk like old times, loosening up more as we conversed. It didn’t take long before I was laughing and smiling like nothing had ever happened.
But that twinge of doubt settled me eventually. Could it really be this easy?
He took me home with no fuss, walked me to the door and wished me well. Didn’t try for a kiss or anything.
Date number six he arranged to pick me up and then showed up with a picnic basket. He’d taken me to the lake the first time he did this. Custom made sandwiches, a Shane special he claimed. Store bought potato salad, because he nearly took off a finger tip trying to peel potatoes himself the day prior. And to top it off a couple of cold sodas, my favorite one even though he wasn’t a fan of it.
For this one, he drove us to a local park, that thankfully wasn’t too busy, pulled out an old blanket, that he had to have stolen from Rick and Lori, and spread it out real carefully for us to perch upon. He helped me sit, holding my hand the whole way, which had me snickering and looking at him like he had lost it. Unlike the first picnic he took me on, just as he was pulling out the food, the park’s sprinkler system kicked in.
In a panic, he shot up off the blanket. I floundered, legs and arms moving faster than the rest of me could follow. He ended up pulling me to my feet and pushing me toward the Jeep while he snatched the corners of the blanket and turned it into a large bag of sorts. The food was ruined and so was my hair, but we managed to have a good laugh about it. Ended up going through a drive through for dinner and eating in the Jeep while we watched the sun set.
For date twelve, he took me to the Starlight drive-in movie theatre in Atlanta. Much like the first time he took me, he borrowed Rick’s truck. A bunch of blankets and an old air mattress thrown in the back for comfort and an ancient looking boombox for our sound system perched to the side. It was a double feature, but I found myself tucked against him before the end of the first movie.
It continued on like this for several more weeks. Fishing, camping, hiking, a trip to the beach. If we had done it before, he was having us do it again. The pictures piled up on my phone. New photos, new memories to mirror the old.
I felt it as time moved forward, that surge in my veins, the leap of my stomach. I was falling again. Knew I was and let it happen willingly at that point. Cried myself to sleep at night now, not because I didn’t know what to do with myself, but because I suddenly had it back and was terrified I’d wake up and lose it again.
What if he relapsed? What if it came back? I wouldn’t survive this a second time. It would destroy me. Not just kill me. It would rip at every piece of me, tear it down, spit it out and do it all over again and again and again. Which is why I didn’t let it progress past the dates.
I never let him have anything more than a hug or a kiss on the cheek. Knew he could see it was genuine when I said I had a good time and that I was happy. Made sure it was obvious that my laughter wasn’t forced. It only progressed to more passionate kisses in my weakest of moments. But I was holding back and he knew it.
I never expected him to call me out on it, but he did. He’d just dropped me off from yet another date. We were standing at the door as I unlocked it. He was leaning against the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets. Shirt looking too small and making his arms look good enough to eat.
“Talk to me. Your back in ya head again. Just tell me what it is.”
I stared at the key in the lock for far too long debating with myself on if I was going to do this now or not. No time like the present it seemed. I turned the key, let the lock click out of place, and opened the door wide.
“Not out here.”
That’s all I gave him as I stepped inside and didn’t wait to see if he’d follow. The noise of the door closing and the sound of his boots told me he had. I waited until we made it to the living room before I let it out.
And let it out I did. Every ounce of fear I held in me poured forth like an overflowing sink that the faucet had broken on. The fear of the cancer returning, of his memory fading once more, that he’d stop loving me again. The terror of all this having been for nothing, that I would lose myself too. I tasted my tears before I felt them. My mouth felt thick as I began to lose it.
I hadn’t realized how much I was still holding in until this moment, as he wrapped me in his arms and softly stroked my head. I was full on sobbing now, no holds barred. My mouth moved as if to say words, but it just came out as blubbering sobs. He pulled me in so close, whispered assurances into me ear.
He wasn’t going anywhere. The cancer was gone. The doctors had gotten it all. The tests showed no signs of it.
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1076
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Trouble With My Lover by Alison Kraus & Robert Plant and Tied Up by Rival Sons
For a moment I had thought it all a dream. When my eyes opened to the familiar walls of the guest bedroom, the sheets keeping me warm in their soft embrace, I thought surely I had been having a most sensational, beer induced dream. But the ache between my legs was one I had once been familiar with and there was only one thing that ever left me feeling quite so bonelessly relaxed the morning after.
I had slept with Shane.
I let the realization of it wash over me slowly as I rose from the bed and dressed myself. There was nothing wrong with what we’d done in a technical sense. He was my husband, we loved each other. That’s the way it goes. There was nothing about our situation that made this complicated in any way. Absolutely not. All those thoughts could get pushed away to guilt trip myself with later.
Exiting the bedroom felt an awful lot like a walk of shame, but no one else seemed any the wiser. Shane was oddly absent. I didn’t bother to ask, lest he be summoned. I declined Lori’s offer of coffee, said I had chores to get to and gave a round of good byes as I headed for the door.
Climbing into my car, I noticed Shane’s Jeep was absent from where it had been parked the evening prior. Which was just fine by me. That meant there was less of a chance I’d have to run into him. And less of a chance of him trying to spark up conversation about what we had done and what it meant.
I took the long way home. Let the drive work at clearing my head. Totally didn’t stop at a local park that was empty and go scream at the sky either. That wasn’t something a well adjusted adult would do at all. I was fine.
First thing I did when I got home was shower. Washed away the night prior, scrubbed vigorously at my skin in an attempt to get rid of the smell of him, the feel of him. Ended up crying for a while in there too, because what was I doing? What were we doing?
I found myself wondering how it would be different if I just told him. Told him I wanted him, but didn’t know how to anymore. That I loved him, but wasn’t in love with him anymore. Didn’t know if he’d get it, understand it in any way. Or if he’d even try to. Chances are he would, because that’s who he was. Might be pissed about it in the process, because it would seem like I was being complicated and dramatic.
I can hear him giving me this super easy sounding answer to it all right after too.
I had just put on something comfy when the knock sounded from my door. I wasn’t expecting anyone or a delivery of any kind. When a second round of knocking happened, I finally headed for the door. A glance through the peep hole had me confused. Opening the door wide didn’t help much.
There stood Shane, a bouquet of roses in hand.
“Can I help you?”
The confusion was very evident in my tone. Probably clear as day on my face too.
What he proceeded to tell me had my mind spinning. I had muttered some things as I had started to dose off after our late night escapades. Apparently, I had told him all those things I was wondering about.
“Was gonna take ya for breakfast when I got back with the flowers, but Lori said ya’d done gone home. And it’s a l’le late for breakfast now, but we can do a lunch date…if ya want?”
“I’m sorry…I don’t think I understand. Your response to me telling you I don’t know how to want you… and that I’m not in love with you…is to take me to get food and…and give me flowers?”
Yeah, confusion might not be strong enough.
“Way I see it, ya just need to be reminded why ya were. Just gotta sweep ya off ya feet again.”
This man.
He was going to be the death of me some day. I just knew it. I had told myself just moments before that if I had told him my big complicated sounding issues, my world ending view point, that he would come back with a simple answer to it all. And here he was, standing there with a bunch of roses, doing just that.
He wanted to redo it. Start back from the top and date me again. I was about to start laughing in his face or crying, wasn’t sure which. But something was bubbling up inside me of that nature. Maybe it was hysteria. Maybe it was giddiness. My gut was in knots with some kind of emotion, that was all I really knew. Heaven knows what my face was doing.
“Do I need to have Rick sabotage my car so I can break down on the side of the road?”
Don’t know what made me say it, but it bubbled up. I was mostly joking, maybe going a bit crazy, but something about it felt right once I got it out. It drew a soft chuckle from him. Had that lopsided, boyish grin I liked so much playing across his lips. A hint of mischief in his eyes as he remembered how we met.
“Nah, ain’t gotta go that far. I’m not even on field duty again yet. But ya can flip me the bird any time.”
His grin was full and bright now. He moved the flowers out closer to me in an almost questioning gesture. Silently asking if I would accept the olive branch he was extending and give his idea a chance. He looked so damn hopeful.
“Come on now…know ya want to.”
He was gently teasing in his tone. I let a sigh drop through my nose, tongue running over my front teeth as I felt myself caving.
I never could resist his man. Not all those years ago in the rain. Definitely not now with those roses extended toward me. I had always been doomed from the start where Shane Walsh was concerned. It was inevitable. We were inevitable. There was no running from this.
I snatched the roses. Watched as petals fell to the ground as easily as he made my worries drop away.
Author's note: I'm back, sorry for the delay. Crisis has been averted and I have finished writing all the chapters. Updates should be regular going forward, unless work gets in the way.
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1481
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Save Tonight (2018 Rendition) by Eagle-Eye Cherry and You Should Probably Leave by Chris Stapleton
Dinner goes surprisingly well. Carl dominates the conversation, telling everyone about school and his recent field trip. The food is delicious, as usual of Rick’s grilling abilities, and when we’re all finished Lori brings out a cake with candles burning bright. We all give a wonderfully off-key rendition of the birthday song for Carl to laugh at and with a mighty breath, and a quick wish, he blows those candles out.
A short time later, gifts were opened, thank yous given out, and the day is beginning to wind down. The sun is headed below the horizon, so Evie declares it time to get the kids home and drags her husband off with them. Mrs. Grimes also makes her exit, being sure to give me a tight hug before she leaves.
“Don’t let it destroy you, honey.”
She pats my arms as she looks up at me and I see it in here eyes. Some kind of understanding for my predicament sat there silently behind a soft, almost sad smile. She pulls me in again and then heads for the door.
Shane tries to approach me, but Carl beats him to it. He’d been given permission to stay up later than usual and wanted me to help him build his new Lego set I’d gotten him. I let him drag me toward the table and that’s were we spend the next hour or so with the little blocks. Just as we click the final block into place, Lori announces it’s time for him to get ready for bed. I shoo him off with a fond good night, then reach to finish my beer.
I’m not sure how many I’ve had, but it’s enough that I feel the fog in my head and a slowness to my movements. There’s a little nagging voice at the back of my mind trying to break through. Like I was forgetting something. I let myself stare at the wall, tried to pull whatever it was forward. It hit me like a lightning bolt when Shane came into the room.
There was no available guest room at the Grimes house right now.
Shane was still taking up residence there. I had been drinking and had no business driving myself home. We’d all been drinking, so there was no one who was going to drive me home, not from a house with two cops. Not from a house with Shane in it to argue against anyone doing anything that would endanger me or anyone he cared about.
“What?”
He raises a questioning eyebrow at me, most likely having seen the wide eyed look that had crossed my face upon realizing this.
“Where am I gonna sleep?”
Realization crosses his face then, too. He hadn’t considered it either, until now.
“Take the bed. I can manage the couch for a night.”
I was going to argue it, just for the sake of posterity, but he shut it down before I could. I didn’t feel like arguing with him anyway, so I let it lie. Lori grabbed him a blanket before heading to bed with Rick and Shane snatched one of the extra pillows from the guest room while he changed into a pair of sweats and a tee. He surrendered the room to me with a soft good night.
I watch him settle on the couch for a moment in the dark and silence of the room. Watch his shadowed form; the slope of his shoulders, the strength in his arms. Slowly close the door with a silent click and let the image linger behind closed eyes.
I turn to find he’s left a shirt and pair of boxers laid out on the bed for me to change into if I want. My alcohol addled mind thinks nothing of it and I strip to pull his clothes on. A sniff of the fabric reveals only laundry detergent and my shoulders instinctively sag in disappointment. I had slept in this room before, but never alone. The bed feels too big as I crawl into it.
Sinking into the sheets only serves to haunt me further. I am bombarded by the smell of Shane. Hints of his cologne, his shampoo, his deodorant all linger, completely enshrouding me in memories of him. I feel myself toss and turn for what feels like hours, but every time I check my phone it has only been minutes. I’d wanted the smell of him so badly and now it was merely causing me anguish.
Tired and slightly tipsy are not a good mix for me right now. The smell of him is keeping me awake, igniting a flame in my belly that I hadn’t felt in some time.
Desire, hot and coiling fast, spreads like wildfire. Each time I turn over in the sheets it swells to new heights. Has my breath stuttering and my hips shifting, rocking side to side ever so slightly, trying desperately to remove the sensation and let me drop off to sleep. But relief does not come no matter how hard I try to will it into existence. I feel the tipsy side of myself on the verge of making a bad decision, but am helpless to stop it.
With a low whine, I rise from the bed. Bare feet padding silently across the carpet toward the door. I open it slowly, leaving it open so as to not risk the additional noise, and tip toe quietly toward the living room. The room with the couch that holds Shane.
Bound and determined to make bad decisions this night.
In the dark of the room, I misjudge the distance between the couch and coffee table, my toe smacking painfully into the wooden leg of it. Between the sound it makes and my pained noise, Shane begins to stir. His shadow sits up in the dark, eyes darting to the source of the sound that woke him. Apparently, his eyes are better adjusted because he knows it’s me.
“Whatchu doin’ up?”
His voice is deep and laced with sleep. It does nothing to help my predicament. I’m past the point of better judgement, moving toward him without preamble. He shifts to sit up better, legs swinging down to rest on the floor. As I place myself upon his lap, his hands come up to frame my hips, squeezing lightly in his still half asleep state. I let my head drop and press my lips to his, let my hips shift slightly as I do, feel him grow beneath me.
But he pulls his head back, breaks the kiss, and stares at me for a long moment. Long enough that I start to squirm. I don’t know what he’s thinking, can’t see his face well enough to get a good read on it. Don’t really care either. I just need to let go, need that release. This doesn’t mean anything, I keep saying to myself. It’s just a means to an end. Which is not at all why I had agreed to come to Carl’s party. Was practically the opposite really. This would only complicate things in the end.
But I’m not thinking straight in this moment. The alcohol is doing the thinking. Wonder briefly how sober Shane is. Is he in the same predicament as me?
“Tell me to stop.”
I bring my hands up to frame his face as I say it, card my fingers lightly through his hair.
“Tell me to walk away.”
He tilts his head back, lets out a low groan as I let my nails scratch at his scalp.
“Tell me this is a bad idea.”
I let my face come close to his, lips just a hair’s breadth away from his.
“It’s definitely a bad idea, Sugar.”
He surges forward to kiss me fiercely, fingers digging into my hips as he seeks out purchase to ground himself. I taste the beer on his tongue, feel the breath leaving my lungs in a rush through my nose. Give in to the all consuming fire that rages within. My fingers move from his hair to tug at his shirt and when he pulls away enough for me to start removing it, he goes for mine in turn.
“Always looked so good in my shirts.”
Mutters against the skin at my collar bone as he licks a wet strip up the side of my neck. A shiver runs down my spine at the sensation and I find myself moaning. A resonant sound that emerges from deep in my chest. He shushes me, slides a hand gently over my mouth.
“Can’t be wakin' the whole house now.”
I’m not sure I’d care if we did.
But between his hand and his mouth he must accomplish keeping me quiet, because as he pulls me apart, right there on the Grimes’ couch, no one interrupts us or tell us to quiet down.
Author's Note :
This is taking a little longer than expected to get finished up. I ended up adding some extra chapters and then haven't written in like a week because I had a bit of an emotional crisis.
Been trying to get back into the groove and struggling with it. I also do all my own editing.
Was hoping to have this wrapped up and posted in its entirety by Christmas, but I don't know if that's gonna happen now. Updates might come a little slow for a bit. Sorry guys.
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1726
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
It’s All Coming Back To Me Now from Bat Out Of Hell The Musical
It felt like a life time ago; standing there on that lake side, Shane having just told me that if I truly wanted a divorce he’d give it to me. I’d been so struck by the fact that he was giving up. He wasn’t the type to give up so easily. From the stories Rick had told me of their time in school, he never had been either.
But that day, he had given up. Stood there with his forehead pressed to mine after having said he’d give me what I’d asked for and then walked away. Left me standing alone with tears streaming down my face as the realization of what had happened began to sink in.
He hadn’t reached out, hadn’t shown up randomly. Just nothing; No calls, no contact, presumably waiting patiently for divorce papers to come. Even the calls from Rick had stopped. All of it was like a slap to the face.
That had been a couple of months ago. I knew in the instant he’d walked away that I didn’t want a divorce, I just wanted what we’d been before back. The only problem was, I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him, not anymore. It was something that had dawned on me in the aftermath of our blow up.
I didn’t know what to do about it. How to even come close to starting to fix it. But I knew he would be willing to, more than willing actually.
I’d chosen to stew in it for a time though. Beat myself up over the whole thing for a while and had been trying to figure out how to reach out without seeming desperate. There was no need to humiliate myself further, even though I knew he’d never fault me for it. Because that’s what it felt like, the way I had acted, the things I’d said. It was humiliating. My poor pride felt every blow of it.
Lori’s text came at the perfect moment.
It took me by surprise, her message. I was in the middle of looking at job listings and filling out applications when it came in. I’d finally decided that my idiot of a boss wasn’t worth working for any longer and since he’d put me on leave for an indeterminate amount of time, I was gonna get paid to find a new job. He could suck on them apples!
Having a small get together for Carl’s birthday. Just family. Would you want to come?
With everything that had been going on I’d forgotten about the boy’s birthday. I’d missed out on going to his actual parties the last couple of years with everything that had happened with Shane. I hadn’t had the courage to face him, not even at a child’s party. Though it really had more to do with potentially seeing the other woman than anything else. And while I had always made it a point to see my, basically, nephew at some point around his birthday, it just wasn’t the same as being there for the party.
I knew Shane would be there and part of me shuddered at the thought of having to see him. But the other part of me had to recognize an opportunity when it presented itself. What better place to test the waters than a little get together? It would be a safe space. Trusted people close by to help be a buffer. Typing out my response didn’t feel too heavy, but it did leave me antsy.
Get me details. I’ll be there.
So, here I was in nice jeans, a shirt that was somewhere between a casual tee and nice blouse, my clean sneakers on, headed for the door to the Grimes’ house, small gift bag in hand. I had asked Lori for gift ideas and she’d said Lego's and superheroes were hot topics as of late. So, a superhero Lego set it was. Wasn’t much, but the kid would be excited about it.
Three sharp taps to the door and a short wait later, Lori answered. She gave me a quick hug, showed me where to leave the bag, and directed me toward the door to the back yard. Rick was manning the grill when I stepped out, the smell of charcoal lingering in the air. I could faintly smell a mix of hot dogs and hamburgers. Shane was close to Rick, beer in hand, laughing at something Rick’s brother-in-law was saying.
The bruising was completely gone from his face now, the color in his skin fully back. His hair had grown back out some too, the ends of it just sticking out from under the ball cap he currently wore. He had on a tight, gray shirt with jeans, with a thin, blue button up thrown over the top. That stupid grin was prominent on his face. He looked good, too good, and oh, so very happy.
Across the way Rick’s sister, Evie, was playing with a young girl, maybe three years old, as Mrs. Grimes, Rick’s mother, watched on with a smile on her face. Above them, looking sturdy as could be, was a tree house. The one Shane had built with Carl’s help and Ricks credit card. Carl suddenly ran past me, nearly knocking me over as he avoided his other cousin, another boy, who was giving chase. Lori’s voice carried out from the not yet closed door.
“Slow it down, boys!”
I suddenly felt out of place. When Lori had said it was going to be just family, I had expected that some of the other’s they knew who where like Shane, friends who where so close they basically where family, would be there. But no, I was sorely wrong.
So much for possible buffers.
It was in my moment of panic that Mrs. Grimes called out to me, insisting I come join her and Evie with the little one. This drew everyone's attention to the fact I was even there. Rick handed the spatula over to his brother-in-law so he could make his way towards me. He pulled me in for a bit too tight of a hug, but I think he knew I was freaking out a little inside.
“Glad you came.”
He kept his voice low as he spoke. Looked me in the eyes a little too long as he pulled back. Analyzing me is what he was doing. Wanted to get a read on whether I was gonna bolt. I gave a subtle shake of my head to let him know, no, I wasn’t gonna run. I couldn’t do that to Carl, who, while I was distracted with Rick, had made a bee line for me.
He took the wind out of me as he collided almost full speed with my legs and wrapped his arms around my waist for a massive hug. I returned it in kind when I got a full breath back. Ruffled his hair while I said happy birthday, to which he scowled and jerked away, but smiled at me all the same before taking off once more.
“Getcha a beer?”
I’d never heard Rick say something so nice.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Beer in hand, I headed in the direction I’d originally been summoned, avoiding eye contact with Shane the whole way. Mrs. Grimes and Evie asked me about your typical small talk topics. Work and life. I told them about job hunting and then lied through my teeth about life being good. It wasn’t a good front, they knew good and well I was lying. They knew all about what was going on with Shane, both past and present.
I ended up with the toddler in my lap. Little hands patted at my cheeks and I pretended to bite them to incite a fit of giggles. I could feel Shane’s eyes on me, hear the guys conversation take a more serious tone and quiet ever so much, just enough that I couldn’t hear. Knew they were talking about me and Shane and what things were and would or could be. I just kept looking into shining little eyes filled with laughter and ignored them best I could. Let this little girl take my mind to a better time, a happier time. A moment filled with love and dreams for a future that had seemed so clear.
But I couldn’t ignore them forever and when that little girl finally crawled from my lap to play with a toy on the ground, I looked up. Found my eyes directly meeting Shane’s. The look in his eyes screamed that he was thinking of the same thing I was.
The late night runs to the twenty-four hour drug store. What felt like endless minutes waiting to see if it would be two little lines or not. The heartache, the frustration, the false calls, the desire to try again. We’d had a dream, one we had actively been trying to fulfill. A dream of a little version of us. A little girl with my hair and my nose, his eyes. A little boy with my eyes and his jawline.
His hand twitched, fingers flexing with the desire to touch. His eyes heated for a moment. Tongue darted out to lick at his lips and he tried to cover it by sipping at his beer. But I knew, I remembered that heat. The feel of rough hands gliding over my bare skin. The feeling of his wet, but rough tongue swiping behind them, the cool sensation that was left in it’s wake. The desperation of it sometimes. Felt like madness, like we were animals. Trying for something so hard we lost ourselves to it.
I wondered suddenly what he’d look like holding a little girl. Was met with the stark realization he didn’t have to imagine it with me. He’d seen me doing just that a moment prior. Looking at him, I felt my mouth drop open ever so slightly, breath deepening with a desire that had simply hidden itself away at the mental image of him holding a child, our child.
I broke eye contact and blew out a sharp jolt of air, when Lori called out that dinner was ready. Ran a hand down my face and mentally scolded myself.
I had to get it together. Cause I needed to make it through dinner.
Warnings : Includes themes of divorce and cheating, medical conditions and procedures (nothing too detailed), the emotions and trauma that come with those things.
F!Reader / No Y/N / No description of reader
Word Count : 1116
Chapter Masterlist / A03
*I don’t do tag lists, sorry!
Make A Liar by Jackson Dean and Nothin’ by Robert Plant & Alison Kraus
“Helped ya catch a fish over there under that tree.”
He said it with a flick of a finger over to our right, where a tree stood steady just next to the water’s edge, it’s roots a tangled mass hanging into the slight wake the breeze created. Wasn’t expecting him to start off by reminiscing. Figured he’d want to get straight into it. That’s always what he’d done in the past.
If he was trying to break the ice, it worked. My mind briefly flitted to another time, another day, not unlike this one. A couple of fishing poles and a tackle box in the back of the Jeep. The top off, wind on my skin as we drove, and the radio blasting some song that Shane loved and I hated, but couldn’t have cared less about being on in that moment, as he sang along slightly off key.
I nearly tripped on those tree roots. About went face first into the water, but his quick and firm grip on my belt loops had stopped it from happening. He’d tried to show me how to stand, how to twist my wrist and arm just right to properly cast a line. Forced me to bait the hook with live worms. They’d been slimy and wiggly. I’d been weirdly grossed out but fascinated at the same time. He’d stood behind me, arms close but not touching so that he could assist if needed. And when the line had jerked and I squealed, he started yelling at me to reel it in.
I about dropped the whole pole in the water, but I managed it. Little wriggling fish fought me the whole way, but I pulled it in. Shane had hollered and jumped around, threw his hat up in the air like I’d won an Olympic gold medal or something. The beaming look on his face, nothing but pride. He’d helped me unhook it, took a picture of me awkwardly holding it with a grimace on my face, and then tossed it back into the water.
I’d told him time and again how much I hated that day. He always knew I was lying.
“Gonna talk to me ‘bout it? Stop lettin’ it eat ya up?”
He hazarded a side-eyed glance my way. This is what he did, used something else to get me distracted and calmed down before we hashed things out. It never failed to work before, but this time was different. I was too raw for it to work proper.
“I don’t know what you want me to say…”
I trailed off. It was true, in a way. I didn’t really know what to say in general. I didn’t know how to move past this, didn’t know if I ever would. Part of me knows he doesn’t deserve that, but fight or flight is a bitch.
“Ain’t about what I want to hear. It’s about what ya need to get out.”
He was being so kind, so soft. He was being the man I had married, the one I had fallen in love with. But that was in complete conflict to the image of him I now had in my head and it was pissing me off.
“How are you not freaking out about this?”
A bit of underlying hysteria leaked into my tone. I turned toward him sharply, eyes a bit too wide. He turned to face me, eyes too soft for the storm I could feel brewing. Something akin to pity on his face, but that wasn’t what it was. At least I didn’t think it was.
“That what ya want me t’ do? Freak out?”
I could feel the filter on my mouth trying to slip. What ever he was playing at, it was going to make me slip up. I was headed toward dangerous territory, where I’d end up saying something that I would come to regret once it really sunk in what I’d said. And by that time it would be too late to even attempt to fix.
“Yes…no…I don’t know, Shane. Do something. Anything, damn it! Throw some rocks in the water! Stomp around and throw your hands in the air while you yell. Hell! Go kick your tire! Go back to the house, trash something! Punch a hole in the wall, for all I care. But give me something else to work with, besides this good guy act!”
My arms moved to punctuate each sentence and at some point I got to my feet to stomp back and forth in front of him; an angry pacing motion that probably looked ridiculous to any passers by.
“Why won’t you just leave me alone? Let me move on already.”
I was breathless, chest heaving, both from yelling and from the intensity of the emotions suddenly flowing through me. The tears didn’t fall, but they were right there, so close to it, as I whispered what I thought would surely be the final nail in a coffin I could see so clearly.
“I want a divorce.”
His brow furrowed then, a heat flickering behind his eyes that was reserved for when he was truly pissed. He rose from the ground like a waking predator. Each movement was precise and filled with power. His jaw clenched as he reached his feet and pushed himself to his full height. His dark, brown eyes pierced into me, had me motionless as he approached slowly. Only when he was mere inches from me did he speak.
“We tellin’ lies now? That what we’re doin’?”
His voice was low, his tone one that was reserved for two occasions: Deeply intimate moments, where he practically growled indecent things into my ear, and when he was pissed to high hell at somebody. This was definitely not the former.
“You want some lies? I’ll tell ya some lies, sweetheart. I don’t want to touch ya. I don’t want to feel ya. I don’t want to taste ya. Ever again…I hate you.”
He was right in my face now, a hand having come up so he could trail his fingers tips down my arm. The contact made me shiver faintly, but his words had me trembling.
“I hate you.”
This time he followed it up with a light kiss to the corner of my mouth.
“I hate you.”
A lick to the tip of my nose.
“I hate ya so damn much.”
His voice cracked, hands falling limp at his side as his forehead came to rest against mine.
“But if we ain’t lying…and the divorce is what ya want…really. I’ll give it to ya. Rip my fuckin' heart out too. Cause I’d give ya the damn world if I could.”
