I need a Reader who just has to rawdog it through life.
No caffeine, regulated sugar, no alcohol, no tobacco, no energy drinks, no milk, no cheese, no gluten.
Reader who has Pica, Reader who works a night shift and yet has insomnia, so they are just constantly tired. Reader who has problems walking, Reader with a lazy eye, reader with ‘unattractive’ features.
Reader with mobility devices who still push their limits to improve. Med student Reader who can’t find a job to support it. Broke Reader being screwed over by their debt, Reader with albinism, black Reader having the paper bag test done to them at work, asian Reader influencer having to deal with the white men in their comments.
Biracial Reader struggling to choose an identity when the world chooses it for you, specifically a non black mixed Reader. Like Indian reader mixed with Japanese, who’s skin doesn’t match the projected image, and yet is too far away from their other culture.
Disordered eater Reader who staves themselves all day only to binge eat when they can’t take it. Disordered eater Reader who works out too much and yet forgets to eat.
Scarred Reader who is not the romantic stereotype, who looks deformed by their scars. Burned Reader struggling to be treated as human after their mutilation. Amputee Reader struggling to relearn their body.
Curly-haired Reader wishing to have straight hair and straight-haired Reader wishing to have curls.
A Reader who covers their freckles, and a Reader who paints them. A masc-looking Fem!Reader who struggles to wear feminine clothes, fem-looking Male!Reader struggling to look masculine!
Give me a Reader with too many siblings, who isn’t the oldest, and is lost in the middle! A Reader who daydreams the day away, who draws cringe OCs and cries when their favorite character dies!
A Reader who’s too empathetic, a Reader who’s too apathetic! A Reader who’s overwhelmed with parenting, a Reader trying to reparent themselves after being raised a brat. An high-functioning autistic Reader who tries to validate their experiences. A high-needs autistic Reader who uses a robotic voice to communicate (I forgot what it’s called 😞) and yet is still chatty and funny!
A Reader who is afraid of stupid things, a narcoleptic Reader who finds everything funny. A Reader with no humor, a Reader who’s working off weight. And I’m not talking no ‘140 lbs(63.503kg) to 80lbs(36.287kg) 🤩!’ type Y/N build. I’m talking overweight Reader deciding (FOR THEMSELVES!!!!!) that they want to loose a couple pounds. I want a bodybuilder chubby Reader who can lift over 300 lbs (136 kg).
I need a nerdy BL lover Reader, who spends all their money on their Gacha games. Weirdo Reader, who knows more people online than real life. Creepy Reader who watches analog horror to make theories.
Perv Reader who’s usual reads is smut, who’s favorite authors are dark romance. Where’s the crime loving Readers, who yumeship themselves with criminals. Where’s the other side of crime loving Reader, who spends hours working to the sound of crime podcasts. Digital artist Reader, who draws to the sounds of body-cams and celebrates in their room when the bad guy gets caught.
Niche fandom Reader who makes their own merch, dedicated to a dead fandom like it’s their legacy. AO3 author Reader who’s iconic throughout the fandom. (Like Jabsartt, or the Mirrors fic)
WE NEED READERS WHO WE CAN RELATE TO!! NO PLAIN Y/N, GIVE THEM SOME SPICEEE!!! MAKE THEM CREEPY WEIRDOS WHO CAN’T RELATE TO NORMAL PEOPLE!!
aka I just want a weirdo reader. Not even just that, but that was the OG intent. Make them relatable people. Make them fat. Not even chubby, give them elbow meat and make them have big faces. Make them weak and slow, make them desperate, make them relatable. Make their lives shit, make them feel inferior, build them back up into a new person. Make them spontaneous, put yourself in there, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
And for goodness sake, please don’t make the default white. Write your own experiences into them, how would you react, not some perfect doll. Don’t be afraid of the cringe that might come from writing Readers of different colors and race, just stay away from the stereotypes. You can even look up how to write different races or read experiences from the people of that race you’re basing it off of. Don’t make white the default. As a white person.
word count - 1k
trigger warnings - minimal sadness, angry Spanish woman
you have just lost the final to England (and Lucy), and when she comes over to talk to you, both of your feelings get a little crazy
i changed some bits to fit the style i wanted to take it so i hope everyone enjoys it
The final whistle had blown, and the deafening noise of the crowd had faded into a low, distant murmur. You sat alone on the pitch, hunched over with your hands hiding your face, the tears hot and angry as they streamed freely. You had given everything. Fought until your body had nothing left. And still, it hadn’t been enough.
Spain had fallen short in the Euro final to England.
This was supposed to be the last piece. The final trophy missing from your collection with Spain. You’d already climbed to the pinnacle with the World Cup. But this... this was meant to complete the legacy. To silence the doubt. To finally reclaim the joy that had been tainted.
As the weight of that reality settled, grief took its place. You might not get another shot. And that truth wrapped around your chest like a vice, unrelenting and sharp.
You heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching, deliberate but hesitant. You didn’t need to look up to know it was her.
Lucy stood in front of you, silent. You could feel her patient gaze resting on you. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes. The anger burned in your throat (not really at her, but she was the one there) and that made it impossible to hold it back.
"You," you spat, voice bitter as you finally looked up. "Why did it have to be you?"
She didn’t flinch. She just looked at you with calm, sad eyes.
"I didn’t ask for it to be," she said softly.
"You could’ve…" you stopped yourself. The words didn’t make sense. What were you even accusing her of? That she should’ve gone easy? Let you win? You both knew it was nonsense. You were just hurting.
"You should go celebrate," you muttered, voice cracking. "Go be with your team. Go…" You almost said something cruel, something you’d regret. But it caught in your throat, burning with shame, and you swallowed it down. "Just go."
Lucy didn’t move. She knelt down slowly, still watching you.
"Just say what you need to say," she whispered. "Get it out. But you can’t push me away. Not this time."
You stood abruptly, fists clenched at your sides, and let yourself simmer in the silence. The rage swirled and twisted inside you, but it was fleeting. Words tumbled out before you could stop them.
"I hate you, but I don't. I love you and I don't know."
Your voice cracked on the last word, trembling under the weight of everything you were trying to make sense of. You felt yourself spiraling, the confusion, grief, and exhaustion colliding all at once.
Lucy moved quickly, without hesitation. She sat beside you and pulled you into her arms. You didn’t resist. You leaned into her, letting the sobs tear through you, your face buried against her shoulder.
"Hey," she murmured after a while, brushing your hair gently from your face. "You were incredible."
You shook your head, clinging to her tighter. "It wasn’t enough."
After a while, Lucy shifted slightly with a hiss, trying to reposition her leg.
You instantly noticed. You pulled back, brow furrowing. "What was that? Are you okay?"
Lucy winced and quickly tried to wave it off. "It’s nothing. You don’t need to worry about me right now. Let’s just, let’s go back to you."
"No" you said sharply. "Don’t you dare deflect. What did you just do?"
Lucy looked at you, caught. "It’s... I just hurt it a bit, that’s all."
You didn’t say a word. You just gave her that look, the one that always made her cave.
Her shoulders dropped with a sigh. "Okay, fine. It’s my leg. Fractured. Since June."
You gasped, hitting her arm without thinking. “que carajo!” “what the fuck!”
Lucy pouted dramatically and rubbed her arm where you hit her, eyes wide with faux innocence. "Ow," she grumbled, “that hurts”
You stared, mouth dropping open. "You played the entire tournament on a fractured leg? Are you serious?!"
She gave a sheepish shrug, guilt tugging at her smile. "Didn’t want to miss it."
"That is so stupid! What if you’d made it worse? What if you’d done permanent damage?!"
"But I didn’t," she said gently. "I’m okay."
But you weren’t finished. You launched into a rant in rapid Spanish (half scolding, half disbelief). Your words spilled out like fire, furious and full of concern. "Cómo te atreves a jugar un torneo entero con una pierna rota?! Podrías haber arruinado tu carrera por completo, sin mencionar tu capacidad para caminar! En qué estabas pensando, eh? Esto no es valentía, es terquedad!
"How dare you play an entire tournament with a broken leg? You could have completely destroyed your career, not to even mention your ability to walk! What were you thinking, huh?! This isn't bravery, it's stubbornness!"
Lucy didn’t interrupt, she had the sense not to. She simply sat there, nodding slowly, lips pressed into a pout, eyes cast down like a kid getting told off by their parent. She accepted every word, not daring to argue.
When you finally ran out of breath, you stared at her. Still furious, but softening.
Lucy peeked up at you with that sheepish grin she has. “Lo siento mucho, bebé.” “I’m very sorry baby.”
The words were soft, almost teasing, but there was something honest in her voice too. You tried to stay stern, to hold onto the anger but it cracked the moment you saw that ridiculous, guilty little smile. Your resolve crumbled and you let out a shaky breath.
You reached down and gently helped Lucy to her feet, mindful of her leg. She gritted her teeth slightly but leaned on you as she rose. Once she was standing, you pulled her into a tight embrace.
She hugged you back just as fiercely, and for a long moment, the two of you stood there (anchored to each other and unmoving) as chaos bloomed around you. Your teammates were grieving. Hers were celebrating. But in that small, silent space between you two, it was just stillness.
i'll make a cute/happy LN x spanish!fem!reader next lololo
🔊 listening to: Idiota - Sofia Reyes
Lando cheating on you wasn’t on your 2026 bingo card. You woke up to a DM, a screenshot sent by a friend, blurry lights, his stupid face laughing and a hand that very much wasn’t yours on his thigh.
“Hijo de puta!” son of a bitch!
You didn’t cry. Not at first. You just stared at your phone, then locked it, then grabbed your jacket and left the apartment like if you stayed one more second you’d start screaming.
So that night, you went out. The topic was already trending on Twitter, leaving hundreds of unanswered chats and ignoring Lando's contact, who did nothing but spam with his messages.
You put your boldest dress, full of glitter, and some red lipstick.
Fuck him and fuck this shit, tonight you needed a drink and maybe some fun.
The club was loud, sweaty, too hot. Bass so heavy it rattled your ribs. You ordered tequila, you were drinking like it was water, and downed the sixth shot without blinking.
You were halfway through the next one when you felt a familiar presence next to you.
“Ei ¿estás bien?” Hey, are you okay? Carlos said your name, leaning close a hand on your back, so you could hear him over the music.
You laughed, sharp and a little unhinged.
“¿Tengo pinta de estar bien Carlos?” Do I look ok to you Carlos?
He looked you up and down. Smudged eyeliner, glossy eyes, jaw tight, anger barely contained.
“No.” He sighed.
Carlos Sainz. Of all people.
Lando's former mate and one of the hottest drivers on the grid. Both of you being spaniards made you share a special bond.
Now you looked back at all the times you, Lando and Carlos had gone out together, how Lando got bored of dancing quickly, and how Carlos stayed with you till 6am when he had already left.
You were so blind.
Now wearing a fresh half unbuttoned white shirt, sleeves rolled up, he looked stupidly handsome, stupidly calm.
He somehow always looks like he has his shit together, which right now feels offensive.
“Ven,” he said, grabbing your wrist gently. “Vamos a la pista.” Come on. Let’s go to the dancefloor.
You let him pull you. Alcohol made everything easier. You told him everything between drinks and twirls —Lando, the cheating, the audacity, the humiliation.
Carlos listened. Really listened. No interrupting. No defending him.
When you finished, you muttered:
“Soy una idiota, Carlos.” I’m an idiot, Carlos
Carlos shook his head immediately.
“No. Él es un imbécil., un capullo que no te merece” No. He’s the idiot, a dickhead that doesn't deserve you.
He hold your gaze, his hand on your chin.
"¿Entonces a quien merezco?" Then, who I deserve?
"A mi, me mereces a mi" Me, you deserve me
That did it. That broke something loose.
You kissed him first. Sloppy, desperate, all teeth and frustration. Carlos froze for half a second—then kissed you back like he’d been waiting for permission his whole life. Hands on your waist, grounding, steady.
Someone whistled, some flashes in the distance. You didn’t care.
You ended up in a dark corner, bodies pressed together, his mouth at your ear, your fingers tangled in his hair.
It wasn’t love, yet. It was heat and revenge and feeling wanted again.
And of course—because the universe hates peace—Lando walked in.
He saw you immediately. Saw Carlos. Saw the way you were smiling like you hadn’t smiled in days, years even.
He pushed through the crowd, eyes wild.
“What the fuck is this?” he snapped shoving Carlos to the side, looking at him like he’d stolen something.
Carlos didn’t even blink.
“Funny,” he said calmly. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
You stepped forward, alcohol-fueled bravery surging.
“¿Qué haces aquí?” What are you doing here?
Lando looked at you, jaw clenched. “I heard you were out. With him.”
Carlos laughed, short and humorless.
“Claro que se ha enterado” he said. Of course he found out.
Lando turned to Carlos. “This is between me and her.”
Carlos stepped closer, suddenly all sharp edges.
“No. No hay más tu y ella, Lando.” No. There's no more you and her, Lando.
He looked straight at Lando.
“Tuviste tu oportunidad. La cagaste. Ahora vete a tomar por culo con tus celos.” You had your chance. You fucked it up. Now fuck off with your jealousy.
Silence.
Lando stared at you, waiting. For something. An explanation?. Forgiveness. You just shrugged.
“Demasiado tarde, guapo, vete con la otra.” Too late, pretty boy. Go back to her.
Carlos took your hand again. Warm.
And this time, when he kissed you, it wasn’t messy.
It was deliberate. A statement
Lando watched the whole thing before turning around and leaving.
You didn’t chase him.
You both ordered another drink instead.
cause i'm hispanic i've been really wanting to write a remy lebeau x f!hispanic!reader
where they both have accents, and no one can understand either of them half the time... and most of the time, each other. and maybe he picks up a few of her spanish sayings like he even starts saying ¡ay! or things like gracias, or perdón well pardon but with more of her accent, or like lo siento, like imagine gambit saying sana, sana, colita de rana to reader ahhh because she says it to everyone when they get hurt, or him saying dios mío instead of mon dieu. or ay mi madre. but like, he doesn't even know what any of it means, but he just picks up the context from being around her.
oh and when they fight nope neither one of them understands the other. but somehow still get it
te crees que soy tonta!? dónde estabas anoche Remi!? y no me mires así porque sabes exactamente lo que estás haciendo! siempre vuelves tarde, y luego piensas que estoy loca por preocuparme ay, dios mío... simplemente no sé qué hacer contigo, bebé!
mais sha, nahnahnah hol' on, bébé, écoute m' good, eh? bon dieu, ya c'me 't me all hot, talkin’ mile-o-minute, ain’ even lettin’ Remy get one word out. dat ain’ fair, mama. ain’ like i don' vanished off da earth. j’was c'min’ home. toujours. mais ya get dat look in ya eyes an’ sudd'nly m’the devil again, hein? ay, bébé, don’ do m' like dat. m’tryin’ talk straight wit’ ya bu' ya got m' all tongue-tied, all backwards. jus’ sha... lemme breathe one damn second, yeah? woo
jubilee peeking into the rec room... yeah, i'm gonna come back later...
imagine how the boys would treat you if you were bilingual specifically in spanish (as a spanish speaker myself)
i know damn well Dean would be like “no espeako taco bell” and just turn to you and be like “she espeaks Spanish oui”
Sam would try to use some of his previous knowledge of the language when questioning anyone who doesn’t speak english but eventually gives up after they start speaking a too much spanish
Sam: “que vistes”
random person: “ nombre pues era un pinche fantasma de mi sancha, y quería comerse a mi perro, que era como nuestro hijo, pero tenía un pedazo de tripa en la boca, entonces no podía.”
Sam: “Si gracias….wtf did they just say?”
You: *in pure disgust* “you don’t want to know”
dean would finally take advantages of different restaurants using you to translate his order
dean: “what is this” points to *lengua de vaca”
you: “it’s a type of taco” you lied
dean: “ooo i’ll get that”
imagine the look at deans face when he sees a seasoned cows tongue in salsa and a side of cactus (I LOVED WHEN MY ABUELITA WOULD MAKE THIS)
bonus points if they ever got pulled over Dean is mute Sam is deaf and you don’t speak english
Pairing: Criminal!Shane Walsh x Spanish!Pregnant!Reader
Summary: Some bonds are unable to explain, and yours with Shane has always been a mystery. No matter how many times he's hurt you, you always ended up taking back his sorry ass. This time, after three years gone, when he comes back, you're married and pregnant. And not even that can challenge that bond.
Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Heavy Angst, Smut, Pregnancy Kink, Breeding Kink, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Complicated Relationships, DV, Abuse, Mention of drugs and violence, bittersweet ending.
Word Count: 10.9k
— Read below or at AO3.
A/N: A few important things you should know before reading since I couldn't sum it all up:
— The DV and Abuse warnings don't apply to Shane.
— Reader's husband is the abuser.
— This is kind of a Dark!Shane version, but he's soft for reader, I promise!
— I wrote this as a Spanish!Speaking Reader.
— Shane is fluent in Spanish. He learned for her.
— I tried to keep Spanish down to a few sentences only, but I translated them all in (bold, italic parenthesis like this).
— I won't be translating however all the pet names, just when I need to. But for reference – Shane calls reader 'Corazón' (it means heart, it's the equivalent of Sweetheart) and Reader calls Shane 'Cielo' (it means sky, and it's just like Sweetheart or Honey.)
“What the hell are you doing here?”
You only cracked the door as far as the chain on the lock let you. Through it, you could only see half of your ex-boyfriend's face shadowed under a worn-out baseball cap from Jim’s Body Shop. A handful of curls stuck out on the sides. His chin had a nice shadow from a three-day stubble, and the bags below his eyes gave away that he had been up for longer than he should have. He was still the hottest motherfucker you’ve ever laid your eyes on. No matter how much time had passed since the last time you saw him, Shane Walsh aged just like wine and all you wanted to do is pour yourself a cup of that.
That’s how strong was his hold on you.
You didn't have to be a genius to see that he wanted something from you. That was his MO, he only showed up when he was in trouble and had no one to turn to but poor old sucker you, who never had the guts to kick him to the curb.
“I need a place to stay for a couple of nights,” he said under a breath.
“Things have changed. You can’t stay here this time.”
“Look, I know it's been a while but–”
“A while?” you scoffed. “It's been three years, Shane.”
“I know that. But I don't really have anywhere else to go right now. I drove all the way from Wyoming just to see you. One night. That’s all I'm asking, Corazón. I won't get in your hair. I promise.”
You hated saying no to him, even after all this time. Even after all the times he's let you down, you couldn’t stand seeing him hurt with nowhere to go, but this time there was nothing you could do to help him. Except…
“I could get you a room at The Sennott for half off. If you need money…”
“No, keep your money. I'll work something out. Could I…”
“What?”
“Before I go, you think I could have a cup of coffee with you?”
You shook your head as his face leaned closer to the door frame.
“C'mon, baby, just one for old times,” his plush lips barely mumbled.
You caught a glimpse of those big, sad puppy eyes of his he pulled off so well. Whether it was genuine, it didn’t matter. The fact is that it worked like a charm and against your better judgment, you sighted, unlatched the chain and welcomed him into your home.
After all that time gone, you still had a soft stop from him, and you doubt that’ll ever change. Alas, he’d always be the man you’ve loved the most. That sucks for you and for him. Cause he has a tendency to disappear on you when you most need him, and after the last time, you decided that you wouldn't be waiting for him anymore.
“Wow, you’re pregnant,” taking off his cap, his eyes grew wide when he stepped inside the house.
“No me digas.”
(You don’t say.)
It was hard to miss. You were seven months along already and couldn’t even believe it happened so fast.
Your palm drew the curve of your rounded belly over the t-shirt you were wearing. The hem barely touched the top of your thighs, and that’s where he looked next.
“You always had beautiful legs, Corazón,” he smirked, placing the backpack he was carrying on a chair.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you turned around and thought about all those times your thighs were wrapped around his head while he ate your pussy.
“It never did,” Shane scoffed, fixing his messed up curls.
You picked up the carafe from the machine, filled a mug with coffee without even bothering with heating it up.
“Five minutes. He’ll be here soon,” you said firmly, handing over the mug.
“I’ve always liked it cold anyway,” he lifted the cup up to his lips as you leaned on the counter. “You’re not having any?”
“It’s not good for the baby.”
“Oh, right.”
“What have you been up to, anyway?”
“Do you really wanna know?”
“Not really,” you crossed your arms and paused. “I guess I thought I deserved to know why you didn’t come back when you said you would. I saw Rick a few months ago and said he hadn’t heard of you in a while… led me to believe you were dead.”
“Shit happens.”
“Shit happens? Me lo merezco por preguntar,” you couldn’t hide the frustration in your tone.
(I deserve that for asking.)
“I thought you’d be over me.”
“I am.”
“Ain't seem like it.”
“Mira, cabrón,” you showed him the ring around your finger, and pointed once more at your pregnant stomach. “I’m completely over you.”
(Look, bastard.)
“That doesn’t prove shit. Looks like you wanted to one-up me, and move on as fast as possible so next time I’d show up, you’d have an excuse to throw me away.”
“Yeah, maybe. Doesn’t mean that I’m not over you.”
“You were always a terrible liar, you know that? Do you even love the poor sucker?”
“Why do you care?”
“Cause we both know, that no matter how much you hate me, you’d never love anyone as you love me.”
“That’s bullshit, Shane.”
“Sabes que es verdad, Corazón. You also know that no man would ever care for you like I do.”
(You know that’s true, sweetheart.)
“If that were true, you wouldn’t be leaving every five minutes. You think you can just come here like nothing happened?”
“It's worked before.”
“It’s too late now.”
“Is it?”
He took one more sip from his coffee before placing the mug on the breakfast bar and going around it to have you closer.
As your stare fell to the floor, he noticed the bruise on your temple.
“Hey, what happened here?” he lifted his hand to your face and gently touched it.
“Nothing,” you swatted his hand away, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I hit my head with the cabinet last night.”
“Did he hit you?” His brow knitted.
“I told you. It was the cabinet.”
“Hey, mírame,” he placed a finger under your chin, and tilted up to capture your watery eyes. “Dime la verdad. ¿Te ha puesto la mano encima?”
(Hey, Look at me. // Tell me the truth. Did he lay his hand on you?)
“Tienes que irte.”
(You gotta go.)
“¿De qué tienes miedo, Corazón?”
(What are you afraid of, Sweetheart?)
“No tengo miedo de nada… You just can’t be here when he comes back.”
(I’m not afraid of anything…)
“Alright, I’ll go if that’s what you want, but I need to do something first,” he lifted his hand up to your face and framed your chin.
“Shane… don’t…”
“Sh, sh, it’s okay,” he said under a breath, placing his thumb gently on your lips.
“Please,” You weakly pleaded, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop what was about to happen.
His tongue swiped across his lips, and the next second they were gently pressed against yours.
Your eyes welled up and quickly shed a few tears upon that first initial contact. It didn’t take much to get you under his spell once more, for the umpteenth time. No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself how fucking toxic he is, you fell for it every damn time like an idiot. It didn’t matter that you were married either, as bad as it sounds, what you and Shane had was something that couldn’t be stopped by any means. Only death could put an end to it. It didn’t help either that you weren’t on the best of terms with your husband either, so guilt went out the door the moment you let Shane in.
Unable to pull away, you let him deepen the kiss and invade your mouth with his tongue. He went slow and tender. That’s how it always started, he’d play on your good side, and once your defenses were down he’d go in full swing. He’d breathe in your air, soak in the taste of your mouth, take all the space until you were left breathless.
You linked your arms around his neck, and kissed him back, following the sweet undoing of his familiar lips as they fused tightly with yours.
When he tried to press himself closer to your body, your pregnant belly got on the way.
One of his palms tenderly landed on top of your stomach and drew the big curve that was keeping him away from you. Your heart fluttered as the small gesture.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are like this?” he broke the kiss, and looked down at his hand, while your head responded with a faint shake. “Eres preciosa, mi vida. I’d’ve put a baby in you before if that’s what you wanted.”
(You’re gorgeous, my life.)
“I know, that’s why I never asked,” you placed your palm on top of his roughed-up knuckles. “Have you beaten up someone?”
“Something like that.”
“You’ll never change. Will you?”
“I could if you ask me.”
“You are who you are, Cielo. I can’t ask you that, and you can’t change for me.”
“Cielo. I missed that,” his face beamed, framing your tummy with both hands and dipped to kiss your forehead.
“One more for the road?” You held his face, and it was you this time the one capturing his mouth.
You kissed him as if this was the last time you’d ever see him. You needed something to hold onto. It was so fucking naive of you that he’d ever change or settle. He had another mistress, one that had no lips or body or soul that led him to the darkest of paths far away from yours. It was impossible to compete with that. Until he was ready to let that life go, there’ll be no future between the two of you.
Maybe one day, you kept hoping as you basked in the swirl of his tongue. He was so fucking needy and hungry for you, it became desperate. He panted in your mouth, had trouble catching his breath cause all he wanted to do is swallow you all.
His hands moved to your ass, gripped hard at your flesh. You wish you had the power to stop all that at once. You could, but you wanted him just as much. Your hormones were not helping either. They only fueled the flame that was still clearly alive between you.
You moaned in his mouth, as the sloppy doing of his tongue drove you out of your mind. One of his hands reached further down your bottom, slipping between your thighs to feel the dampness pooling on your underwear. He always knew how to get you wet with just a kiss, but this was something else entirely. You were sopping wet. He could feel your juices seeping through the fabric.
“Say that you don’t want me again, I dare you,” he drawled with a shit-eating grin.
“Shut up. I need you to fuck me,” you sucked in his lower lip hard between your teeth, tugged it, and let it go when it was bright pink.
He scoffed at your request, not of mockery but pride of being still able to incite you like that.
“We don’t have much time. You have to do it fast,” you warned and turned around, pushing your panties down to your ankles as he undid his belt and fly.
“Your wish is my command, Corazón.”
Shane quickly pulled out his cock. It was half hard.
Biting on your lip, you glanced over your shoulder to see him jerking himself off up to a firmer completion.
You stuck your butt out and propped your forearms on the hard surface of the counter, as Shane guided his cock oh so carefully between your tender lips.
“I’ve never fucked a pregnant woman before. I don't wanna hurt you,” he confessed in your ear as his hardness stroked just a little further into your walls.
“Don’t overthink it. Baby’s safe. Just fuck me like always.”
“Hmm,” he followed your order and after a couple of experimental thrusts, the pace of his hips skyrocketed to a punishing level that felt like heaven and hell rising at the same time between your legs. He kept your hips locked in his hands, fingers digging in your flesh as you tucked one of your hands between your legs to feel your juices leaking all over your legs and floor. It was like nothing else you’ve ever felt. Most of it was partially hormonal, the other part was a mix of being touch-starved from your husband, and missing Shane, and his cock like crazy.
You rubbed your clit and all of a sudden one of his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt at the front to feel your breasts.
“Fuck, you’re so big and juicy, mi vida,” he grunted, squeezing your overly-sensitive, pebbled nipple that felt like a rock between his fingers. His face leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “I’d put another baby in there if I could. You’d like that?”
“God, I would love that,” you moaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder. “Come inside me, mi amor.”
“Yeah? Tell me you love me, and I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I love you, Cielo,” you gasped as he removed your hand from your pussy to replace it with his own. “I fucking love you and your big cock. Please. Hmm, fuck… fuck, fu…”
“There, mi vida.”
You felt your soul being pulled out of your body when the winning push forced a torrent of pleasure that traveled over your body as your opening contracted around his dick. You went up so high, so fast, you almost didn’t feel when he shot his load.
When he slipped out of you, you quickly went down to pull on your panties back in place. You almost felt embarrassed at the mess that you made on the floor and all over the cabinets below the counter if it didn’t feel that good.
“You really have to go now,” placing a palm on his chest, you glanced out the window, knowing that your husband wouldn’t take much longer now.
“I wanna see you again.”
Your eyes welled up. “We can’t do this again, Shane. If he finds out…”
“Please,” he pleaded over and over in between a trail of desperation and kisses peppered all over your face and neck. “I can’t live without you, mi amor, mi cielo, mi corazón. Te necesito.”
(My love, my sky, my heart. I need you.)
“Shit. Alright,” you paused to collect your thoughts. “Come tonight. After ten. He’ll be gone the whole weekend. If there’s a truck on the driveway you turn away.”
“Got it.”
“Leave your car at the end of the street, you walk all the way here, and come at the back. ¿Entendido?” you pointed at the back door in your kitchen.
(Got it?)
“Alto y claro.”
(Loud and clear.)
“C’mere, Cielo,” you wrapped your arms tightly around him, and inhaled the smell of his neck for a long moment before sending him in his way.
You went into the bathroom to clean yourself up and saw his seed had dripped from your pussy to your panties. It was still warm and wet. You dabbed your fingers on it and shamelessly brought it to your lips to remember how his cum tasted. Then you pushed those same fingers into your opening to pick up the remains of you and him and licked every bit of it off your digits.
You hated that he had turned you into this mess of a woman that couldn’t ever resist him. Some bonds are unable to explain, and as much as you hated him, you loved him even more than you thought.
As you wiped your legs and changed your underwear, you felt the roaring of your husband’s truck pulling up the driveway before stomping into the house. You hurried to clean up the mess in the kitchen. You could tell it smelled like sex, but Clayton had been drinking as usual, and his senses were shot by the stench of alcohol.
You really knew how to pick them. First Shane, then Clayton. To be fair, Clay was a completely different person when you met him. It wasn’t until a few months ago that he lost his job, and you got pregnant that he started showing his true colors. While Shane, you always knew what you were in for cause he was always the same person from beginning to end, he never hid what he was.
Every other weekend Clay went to a cabin up in the mountains with a group of friends to hunt and whatever the hell they did cause hardly you ever saw anything brought back from those alleged hunting trips. He just brought more dirty clothes soaked in booze and muddied boots. Lately, you didn't even care. You actually preferred when he was gone cause it got him out of the house and those weekends away were the only times you could breathe.
For all that he had put you through, you didn’t feel guilty in the slightest from doing what you did with Shane. God knows Clay would probably be fucking around. You were sure of it cause one, he hand’t touch you since you told him you were pregnant; and two you weren't blind or deaf either, and had caught him talking overly friendly, like he used to talk to you at the beginning, over the phone a couple of times when he thought you were asleep.
“Did you have coffee?” Clay picked up the mug with coffee grounds that Shane left on the counter. “You shouldn’t drink it.”
“I didn’t have any. I had a friend over earlier and I forgot to clean it up.”
“You know how I feel about having people in my house when I’m not here.”
“It’s my house actually,” you pointed out. “What? Are you gonna forbid me from having friends over now?”
You knew you shouldn't poke the bear when it was drunk, but sometimes your mouth ran faster than your brain.
“We're married, remember? What's yours is mine and all that shit. Don't forget that, bitch.”
God, you had to refrain so hard from punching his face.
As you headed out of the kitchen to avoid getting yourself further into trouble, he grabbed your arm, stopping you from leaving.
“I am your husband. And this is my house. You'd be nothing without me. Show some respect.”
“Men who hurt their wives, their pregnant wives, don't deserve any respect,” you snarled. “Now let me go before you do something you might regret later.”
He looked at you with sharp steel eyes, clutching your arm so hard it felt like he might snap it in half. He wanted to hit you so badly, you could tell, like the night before when he swung the remote across your face when you accidentally knocked over his beer.
You held his stare just as defiantly, and pulled your arm free from his grasp. It left a mark that turned into a bruise quickly after.
Staying out of his way, you went into the nursery and sat down with a book on the armchair to read while he gathered his hunting supplies. You heard him heating up some leftovers and showering before leaving.
All you could think when you listened to his truck drive off was seeing Shane again. You had a couple of hours left to get ready. It was a safe window for you to know that your husband was up in the mountains and wouldn't be coming back till Sunday. You followed his friend's updates on Instagram to keep track of him. Trent was an avid poster, and it was the perfect way to keep tabs on him to avoid the imminent disaster of him finding you with your ex.
You took a shower and changed the sheets of your bed, so they wouldn't smell like Clayton. You were dead set on banging Shane in your bed. Technically, he had fucked you many times before, pretty much in every room of this house but never in your new marital bed. It really excited you thinking about it. You wished you had more time to go to the mall to purchase some sexy lingerie that fitted your pregnant body.
God, Shane really knew how to turn you into an idiot.
In the end, it didn't matter what you wore cause it wouldn't stay on for long. You opted for wearing a pair of lacy panties that you could still fit, but the matching bra didn't stand a chance against your new boobs. You put on a flannel shirt instead, and buttoned a couple of buttons that allowed for your generous cleavage to be the center of attention.
You took off your ring as well and hid it in one of the drawers of your nightstand.
When you finished fixing your hair you went around the house and drew all the curtains for privacy. Then you finally got to relax for a while. You checked Trent's Instagram to make sure they had arrived at the cabin. Exactly like you predicted, he documented the whole thing.
Waiting for Shane, you watched TV and ate some food. When you looked at the clock it was twenty minutes past ten. He couldn't be far, right? You built yourself up to the idea of meeting him again, that’d be disappointing if he didn’t come.
For ten more minutes, you started to believe you shouldn’t have put that much effort until you heard a soft knocking on the back door.
“Empezaba a creer que habías cambiado de idea,” you said, letting him in, and securing the lock on the door.
(I was starting to think you changed your mind.)
“When have I ever disappointed you, mi vida?” As you took his hand, you gave him a look, and he scoffed, “don’t answer that.”
“I’m just glad you came back.”
“Fuck! Look at you, Corazón,” his eyes traveled down your body when you turned to him. “You wanna give me a heart attack?”
Taking that as a win, you grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled firmly towards you to have his lips crash against yours. Then you took him to the bedroom and as you were about to capture his mouth again, Shane stopped you.
“Hold on,” he put some distance between the two of you. “I need to get a good look at you.”
He took off his shirt and tossed aside, as he circled around your body, committing to memory the new curves of your body. When he stood in front of you, you took a closer look at his exposed chest and gulped at the sight of your name tattooed in delicate lettering over his left pec.
“You got that for me?” you traced it with a finger.
“Si, Corazón.”
Your stomach fluttered as his fingers undid the two buttons of your shirt and pushed it off your shoulders to uncover your breasts and baby bump.
“You’re gorgeous like this, mi vida,” the flannel shirt fell to the floor as the back of his knuckles brushed the side of your heavy breast before holding one of them in his hand. It was way larger than his palm he realized, he used to be able to hold it all, now your flesh puffed up between his fingers when he squeezed. “You’re so sensitive.” He noticed your nipples getting hard with just a light touch.
“You can’t even imagine,” you laughed.
“How about here?” Shane guided his other hand between your legs to feel that you were already wet.
You hummed at the soft strokes of his fingers as they slid under the elastic to caress your tender skin. His lips parted at the corner of your mouth as he gathered the arousal from your folds. Your lips down there were puffed too from all the blood gathering all at your core.
“Lay down, I wanna eat you up, Darlin’.”
He bit his bottom lip and watched you following his order. You slipped your panties off under the dark stare of his beautiful eyes that had turned from sweet to a dangerous edge that could set anyone on fire.
You tucked a few pillows beneath your back to keep the weight of your belly off your spine, and reclined as comfortably as you could, spreading your legs wide for him like an offering.
With a grin, he propped a knee on the bed and looked at your cunt as if it was the most precious thing he’s ever seen. He settled between your legs, curled his arms around your thighs and dived right in. With the tip of his nimble tongue, he slowly drew the shape of your lips before circling around your clit. Unlike your husband, Shane was a master of giving head, and was well versed on your pussy. Even after all this time, he still remembered what made you tick.
A shiver ran down your spine as the plane of his tongue licked long strokes from your entrance to your swollen bud.
You threw your head back when his lips wrapped around it. The vicious pressure of his lips around that bundle of nerves felt out of this world.
“God, I’ve missed you, Cielo,” you moaned, threading your fingers in his hair.
“You taste so fucking good,” he grunted ferociously against your folds as a response and all of a sudden he began to suck on you like a starving beast.
Your juices, just as before, leaked all over. It was ridiculous how much you could produce in such a short time. You could feel the fabric below your ass absorbing them.
All your bearings were quickly lost as he took you closer to the edge. All you could do is cry out in pleasure, and squirm as his grip tightened around you to keep your hips in place. You tugged hard on his hair to anchor yourself but all that did is prompting him to go even harder.
“Close… I'm so… fuck, Shane, please… please,” you couldn't stop begging with shallow breaths. Your core was on fire, and you desperately needed to come. “Yes, like that… Ahhh.”
Your legs suddenly clenched around his head a wave of wild bliss coursed through your body, from your center out in different directions. Your toes curled, your muscles shivered, your breathing faltered as your mind was temporarily blown into pure joy. You closed your eyes and let that all take you over your body for a few seconds.
Slowly coming back to your senses, your pussy tingled for a little longer than usual.
Shane was on his knees between your legs, massive erection in his hand when you opened your eyes to find him staring directly at you.
“Goddamn, Corazón. I wish I could take a picture of you like that. I've never seen you come like that for me,” he groaned, pumping his length. “Look how fat you made me.”
Softly laughing, you managed to lift your hand to help him. You replaced his fist with yours and felt the jerking of his firm dick in your palm. His girth was so wide, your thumb couldn't touch any of your other fingers in a curl.
You wondered how many pussies his cock fucked during the past few years. And without thinking or stopping your hand, you asked…
“Di, ¿cuántas zorras te has tirado con mi polla?”
(Say, how many bitches have you fucked with my cock?)
“¿Tu polla?” he snorted.
(Your cock?)
“Yes, just mine,” you winked as you kept your hand moving. “Dime la verdad o paro.”
(Tell me the truth, or I’ll stop.)
“Hmm, no me tortures así, Corazón.”
(Hmm, don’t torture me like that, Sweetheart.)
“Come on. Tell me,” you requested again.
“None,” he panted, unable to keep up with the rhythm of your hand. He had to brace a palm on the mattress to keep himself from falling. “You said it. Soy todo tuyo, mi vida. Te lo prometo.”
(I’m all yours, my life. I promise.)
You smiled widely, pressing your teeth on your lower lip, as you enthusiastically got him to ejaculate all over your swollen belly. It was warm and sticky, and you couldn't help but spread it like butter all over your tight skin, and bring some of it again to your mouth as Shane’s body melted next to yours.
You turned to the side, pushing the pillows under your back aside, keeping one for your head.
Your fingers found his stubbled jaw as you tilted his face in your direction.
“You really haven't been with anyone since the last time I saw you?”
“No. Not like this, Darlin’. Don’t get me wrong, I fooled around with a couple of girls but nothing else. You know me better than that.”
“I'm not sure if that's still true.”
“Do you wanna know where I've been the last two years?”
You were afraid to find out, but your head nodded anyway.
“Prison,” he said without breaking eye contact.
“What for?”
“Possession. Bet you thought it was about time they caught up with me, huh?”
“No, I’ve never thought that, Shane. As much as I wanted to punish you sometimes, I never wished for that to happen. When did you get out?”
“Yesterday morning,” he smiled softly. “All I could think was you, so I got in the car and I drove all the way here without stopping.”
“You could've called me.”
“I couldn't.”
“Why not?”
“Cause you would've dropped everything to help me, and I couldn't put that on you.”
“I wish you had. I would've done anything…”
“I know.”
“I'd have waited for you.”
“I know that too, Corazón. Don't beat yourself up for it.”
Your phone dinged, and you blindly extended your hand to pick up from your nightstand. It was another update from Trent. They were playing beer pong like fucking frat guys, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.
“What’s that?” Shane asked.
“Oh, nothing, just checking on him. I’m keeping tabs on his friend’s Instagram to see that he’s still at the cabin.”
“No, not that. This,” Shane lifted your wrist as the soft light from the night lamp highlighted the mark on your forearm. “You didn't have this earlier. I told you my truth. Would you tell me yours?”
Placing your phone down, you pursed your lips, pondering why you’re still protecting that asshole.
“I… you were right earlier. I don’t really love him anymore. I don’t think I ever did. I just needed some stability and I thought he was it. This happened after you left. And this,” then you pointed to your temple, “he smacked me with the remote last night.”
“Why are you with someone like that? I thought–”
“You thought, what, that I had some self-respect? I used to. I think I did. It’s more complicated than you think. He wasn’t like that when I met him.”
“They hardly ever are.”
“He lost his job a few months ago and started drinking, it wasn’t until recently that he-”
“Stop. Don’t make excuses for him. Losing a job doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole and hit your wife or any woman at all. And drinking… I know a thing or two about getting wasted, and I never put my hand on you no matter how drunk I was.”
“You're right… I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Then, kick him out. Call the police. Get a restraining order. This is still your house, right?”
“Yeah, it is. But like I said – it’s more complicated than that. He has two cop friends. Best friends. They protect each other like fucking wolves. Last year, one of them killed a girl in a DUI, and he got nothing but a slap on the wrist. If I were to show up to ask for a restraining order, who do you think they’ll protect?”
“That’s fucking crazy. You can't live like that, baby.”
You sighted, combing the curls behind his ear. “Sometimes, when he goes away like this I think – this time he’d be too drunk to drive, and he’d end up going over a cliff, die upon impact and would never set foot in this house again. I keep closing my eyes at night and dreaming about it.”
Shane softly patted your hair back, and snuggled closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.
“I’m not gonna let him hurt you again. I promise, Corazón.”
“You don’t have to save me.”
“Lo sé, mi vida.”
Smiling against his chest, basking in the familiar scent of Shane, and feeling the big flutter of a kicking storm in your stomach. You held his hand and placed it on the side of your belly.
“She’s kicking. Can you feel that?”
“Yeah, I feel it. She? It’s a girl?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s strong. Does she have a name?”
“She does,” you placed your mouth over his ear, and whispered the name of your baby girl.
“That’s a beautiful name. She’s gonna kick ass, just like her mama.”
“I hope so,” your lips quirked up as you placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and confessed. “I wish she was yours.”
“I wish she was mine too.”
Your lips locked together once more as you rid yourself of all bad thoughts clouding your head. You only ever wanted Shane. It’s easier to forget how much you love him when he’s not around, and just as easier to remember that you’d die for him if you had to. As the intensity of the kiss rose, you shifted and straddled his waist. He watched you become a goddess as you rubbed yourself over his dick, getting it to fully harden.
“Are you in heat or something?” he laughed, holding your hips.
“It’s the hormones. What? Aren’t you up for the challenge, big guy?”
“Oh, I’m up, alright.”
You lifted your ass, held his cock and carefully sank onto it.
Rocking back and forth you propped your hands on his broad chest, so you could boost yourself up to bounce all over his massive erection. His hands held your ass to help you go faster.
When you caught him eyeing your big breast you bent over, holding one in your hand and put it over his mouth, so he can suck on it. His lips wrapped tight around your sensitive nipple and latched on it. You were growling at the wonderful sensation paired with his throbbing cock inside you.
“God, Corazón, you’re amazing, you feel so… “ He moaned as he switched to the other nipple.
This time his teeth scraped the surface, and you almost came at the surprise. You were so close you couldn’t help but bounce a little faster. You had to brace both hands again to keep up with the rhythm. The weight of your belly started to hinder your pace the closer you got to the edge.
“Help me,” you grabbed Shane's hand and put it on your clit, pleading with a cry, “I need it. Please.”
“I got you, baby. I got you.”
He rubbed viciously on your clit until you came with such force all your juices squirted all over him. Then the pleasure of your orgasm forced his own. His cocked jerked, and suddenly you were filled again with his delicious seed.
You didn’t hear Shane leaving after you fell asleep in his arms.
When you woke up to pee a couple of hours later, the clock marked 4AM, and he wasn't in your bed anymore. He had left the house altogether. You didn't have plans for the next day, but you weren't expecting him to leave that early in the morning either without saying goodbye.
There was a pang of disappointment in your chest as you went back to bed, but you closed your eyes, naively hoping he'd come back later.
It was your lucky day cause when you opened your eyes again, he was back and had brought breakfast with him. All our favorite plates were laid on the breakfast bar as he made a fresh batch of coffee.
“Where did you go, Cielo?” you asked in between bites.
“Went out for breakfast.”
“I can see that. I mean earlier. Woke up at 4 and you were gone.”
He took a long sip of his cup before responding, “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a drive to clear my head.”
“It must be strange sleeping in a new bed.”
“Yeah, a little.”
“I have to work later. I can call in sick if you want–” you offered.
“No, baby, do what you gotta do. No te preocupes por mí.”
(Don’t worry about me.)
“You can’t stay here, but I could still get you a room at the hotel if you’re tired.”
“Nah, do your thing, I’ll figure it out.”
“Would you… come later?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll be here, Corazón,” he kissed your hair and picked up your phone from the counter, “unlock it. I’ll put in my new number, and you call me when you’re off. Yeah?”
“Prométeme que volverás,” you said before handing back the phone.
(Promise that you’ll come back.)
“Lo prometo.”
(I promise.)
After cleaning your plate you relaxed in bed for a little while, trying to get him to catch up with his sleep. There was no luck in that department cause he couldn't keep his eyes and hands off you. So once again, you found yourself in a trance of hormone-induced lust, and had Shane thrusting into you at full force from behind. Your ass was in the air, held in his broad palms, while you sobbed and moaned in pleasure against the pillow beneath your head. You desperately pushed back with your hips, taking him all in. Feeling every stroke, every inch and throb until your legs were left trembling and the fire in your core had spread through your whole body.
When you went off to work in the afternoon, it all seemed to become a hazy dream. It was all so intense that part of you thought it couldn't be real. But that was most of your relationship with Shane. Sometimes you couldn't help but feel you weren't enough for him. Him constantly leaving and breaking his promises was proof that you shouldn’t trust everything he says, but this time felt different. Maybe it was cause he was fresh out of prison, but you could tell that perhaps he was ready to stay out of trouble.
The first half of your shift went by quickly. You kept checking your phone like a maniac to make sure your husband stayed where he was supposed to, and luckily he did. If he wasn’t afraid of hurting you, you weren’t afraid of hurting him back, but you were indeed scared of him finding out about you and your old flame regardless.
You were at the front desk when Shane came in an hour before your shift ended to ask for a room. He needed a place to stay after all, and as the manager you managed pretty well to comp him a room for a couple of days. He carried his scarce luggage that consisted of just a duffle bag to his room, took a shower and waited for your shift to end.
Shane was half asleep when you finished work and knocked on his door. It was easy to see that he was utterly spent, so you didn’t make him drive back to the house. Instead, you stayed with him for the night. You trimmed his curls and shaved his face. Then, you took a long bath together like old times.
“Are you going to stay this time?” you asked once you got into bed.
You faced the other under covers and didn't talk louder than a whisper.
“I don't have anywhere else to go, baby.”
“Does that mean that you're done hustling?”
“I gotta. I don't have any other choice than to be done. Next time it could be 20 or 30 or life. I think I've tempted fate way too many times and got away with more than I should've. I had a lot of time to think and realized none of it mattered. Didn't care about the money. It was just… I don’t know, the power I guess. And I missed on a lot of time with you, and now I have nothing to show for. I don't really know what I'm gonna do, but I'm done with all that. All I know is that I just wanna be with you.”
“I…” your words caught up in your throat, as you tried to convey and process what he said at the same time. “I wanna believe that's true, but you've said you were done before and always felt right back into it.”
“This time is different. I can promise you that I'm not going anywhere this time. Cross my heart.”
Your lips softly pulled up at the corners as you placed your hand over your name's tattoo on his chest.
Regardless of his promise, you’d always have some reservations when it comes to him. Until he really proves it, there’s nothing stripping all those doubts he’s ingrained in you over the years.
When you woke up in the middle of the night he was gone like the night before. This time there was a note saying that he had gone out for a drive and signed it with – I love you, Corazón.
By the time you got up this time he hadn't come back. It didn't worry you though. You just went on with your day, drove back home to take a shower and run some errands before your next shift.
You weren't exactly sure what was going to happen next. You couldn't just jump into Shane's arms after all this time and pretend nothing ever happened. If this was really happening you had to make sure that was true to his word and figure out how he’d fit into your life when you were about to have a baby.
But most importantly, there was something you had to do first. Something that you should’ve done a long time ago and that was leaving your husband. You had been subjected to verbal and mental abuse for months that gradually turned into physical abuse. No matter how much it scared you, it was time to put your foot down and protect not only yourself but your daughter. She couldn’t be raised around him. And Shane or no Shane, it was something you couldn’t keep brushing aside hoping it’ll get better. It was easier to think about it than to actually do it. You weren’t sure how to start. Like you told Shane, going to Lafayette’s Police Department wasn’t an option. But maybe giving Rick a call and asking him for some guidance could be the first step of many.
You pinned that thought for the next day and went back to work a little earlier than usual. It was Sunday afternoon, and you dreaded that Clayton would be coming back later. So you decided to pay Shane a visit before work.
“You know, being here with you this weekend… it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened in a long time, Sweetheart.”
“Well, anything can beat spending two years in prison.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, mi vida. I mean it. I just hope you can forgive me someday for everything I’ve done. There’s a lot of shit you don’t know about that I wanna tell you but…”
He lowered his stare.
“Shane… I… If what you say it’s true, if you prove that I can count on you and that you’re not going back to all that, I’d never hold anything against you. That’s my promise. Whatever you did, you’ve done your time, right?”
“Right,” he picked up your hand and kissed your knuckles before smoothing his palm on your baby bump.
“I can come back later, just for a little while before going home.”
“If you feel like it, I’ll be here, Corazón. Always. No matter what happens.”
He said kind of ominously before you left the room. His tone was certainly different from the night before, he could barely look you in the eye as you said goodbye.
It really puzzled you as you went back to your desk. Maybe he was just tired or perhaps, he was actually feeling the weight of all his actions at once and was actually remorseful. You definitely hadn’t seen that look in his face before that afternoon.
On a quiet evening, when you thought this weekend couldn’t bring more surprises, there was something else that turned your world upside down when two of Clayton’s friends showed up at the front desk. It was the two cops, Simon and Paulie, or Prick One and Prick Two as you called them, asking you for a private place to talk.
You took them into the office where they asked you to sit down, so they could break the news of your husband’s death. It was hard to hear, no matter how many times you’ve fantasized about it, it seemed impossible and your first reaction when they told you he drove over a cliff was to burst into laughter.
“You guys are joshing, right?” you scoffed, and their faces remained unchanged, dead serious. “That can’t be right. He was with you the whole time. I saw it in Trent’s fucking pictures.”
“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. It’s true. We ran out of ice, and he said he was going to the gas station for more and never returned last night. We didn’t find him until this morning… we weren’t sure it was him until they got down to get him. That’s why we waited to tell you.”
“Ice? He went out for ice?” You gritted in disbelief.
“He was pretty wasted. We all were, but you know how he was, once he got something in his head…”
“That’s the last thing he said before leaving.”
“But we believe there was something else that I rather you hear from us than on the news. They found a bag with amphetamines and cocaine in his truck.”
“After he lost his job he was desperate and, we kinda knew that he was selling to-”
They kept spitting out information that didn’t seem feasible to you until you snapped.
“Stop, stop, stop,” you said stiffly, holding your palms up for a moment before getting up from your chair. “Everything you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. He’s many things, but he’s not a fucking drug dealer.”
Though it’d explain some things, you couldn’t believe Clayton had turned into that.
“You kinda knew? That’s bullshit. You either were fully aware of what he was up to or you two are the dumbest cops I’ve ever met. You just don’t – kinda knew –” you threw big air quotes at their own words.
“Hey!” Simon raised his voice for just a second before his partner motioned at him to have some tact.
“We know you’re hurting, sweetheart. It’s a lot to process, but we’re here for whatever you need. Clay would’ve wanted us to help you.”
A lot to process was an understatement.
You looked out the window and saw Shane’s jeep parked in the lot, and it dawned on you. It wasn’t an accident or a coincidence… It was Shane. He killed him. It was as clear as day. You told him about your fantasy of Clayton falling from a cliff the other night, and he made that happen. He murdered him in your name and these two clowns were obviously too stupid to figure that out.
It made you sick to your stomach to think about it and you had to fight not to throw up right on the spot.
“Do I need to identify the body? Is he…?” you couldn’t even imagine what he would look like. All you could think about is the last time you saw him when he grabbed your arm, that same arm you unconsciously were gripping to as hard as he did.
“We can take care of that. You don’t have to see him like that.”
You simply nodded as vile rose to your throat, “there’s a lot… If you could… I need to be alone for a minute.”
“We understand. Call us if you need anything.”
They left the office and the first thing you did when the door was closed was hurl everything you had eaten earlier in the wastebasket.
Beads of sweat covered your forehead and chest when you came out of the office. Your boss dismissed you from work and instead of going home, you went straight to Shane’s room for answers. What he said earlier about forgiveness of all the things he’s done suddenly made a lot of sense. He wasn’t talking about three years ago, he was talking about what he had done last night.
When he opened the door, your cheeks were already covered in tears, as rage just fired through your body. You couldn’t voice anything other than a “how could you….” as you shoved him back several times with all the strength you could muster until his back was pressed against the wall.
You didn’t have to say much cause he was aware that you knew that he indeed had killed Clayton. He fucking knew that sooner or later you were going to find out.
“Lo siento, mi vida. De verdad que lo siento…”
(I’m sorry, my life. I truly am sorry…)
He wasn’t in fact sorry at all, he was sorry that he hurt you, but he wasn’t carrying an ounce of guilt from killing your husband in cold blood.
“He had to go. I’m sorry. I couldn’t just let him hurt you again, you gotta know that.”
“No. You’re not putting this on me. You did that cause you’re a selfish piece of shit. I shouldn’t’ve…”
“C’mon, you practically begged me the other day. Why would you tell me that you kept dreaming of him dying if you didn’t want me to do something about it?”
“It’s called being vulnerable. You caught me at a bad time and took advantage of it. I’m sick of men like you and him making the rules as they go.”
“I didn’t make any rules. I did what I had to cause you didn’t have the guts to kick him out of your life.”
“I had a plan… I was going to… and you…” you kept losing the ability to put your thoughts together.
“Babe, I don’t care if you hate me for as long as I live but, I’m gonna sleep tonight like a baby knowing that that asshole won’t ever touch you again.”
“Is that easy for you, huh?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t feel just one bit relieved that you won’t have to see him ever again. Di la verdad.”
(Tell the truth.)
You shook your head, and swallowed the hard pill of his words. He was partly right. As shocking as it was, you knew that after all this, you’d be glad he was gone.
“It doesn’t matter, Shane. What you did was evil.”
“I did it cause I love you.”
“No, you did it cause you wanted to.”
“I didn’t wanna, I swear. For the first time… I didn’t wanna do something like this, trust me.”
“Trust you? I don’t think you deserve that.”
“You should go home and rest…. Once this is over you’ll see more clearly that this had to happen.”
“See more clearly? You’re the one with tunnel vision, Shane. If you can admit that what you did was fucking wrong, then there’s nothing else to say here. We’re done.”
“I’m not saying it wasn’t wrong. I know it was. But the only thing that matters to me is that you and your baby are safe. And if they lock me up for it, so be it. I don't fucking care. I wasn't gonna sit down and watch him hurt you again.”
“I… I really don't know what you expect me to do with all this. You killed, not just someone… you killed my husband. How can you sit down and pretend that everything will be fine? How are you gonna live with that?”
“Wasn't really the first time. I told you there was a lot you didn't know about.”
“That doesn't make me feel any better. I said I wouldn't hold anything against you, but this is too much, Shane.”
“I know.”
“No matter what he did, he didn't deserve…” you started but immediately realized you didn't even believe your own thoughts. He did deserve to die. Just not like this, perhaps. “Is there any way this could be traced to you, to us?”
“No, I covered all my tracks.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you want me to give you the rundown?”
“If someone finds out…”
“Nobody's gonna find out. I promise.”
“Tú y tus malditas promesas. Sigues siendo el mismo cabrón.”
(You and your damn promises. You’re still the same bastard.)
“Hey, mírame y dime, en tu corazón de corazones ¿De veras crees eso?”
(Look at me and tell me, in your heart of hearts, do you really believe that?)
You glanced at him, but you couldn't focus enough to tell or understand what you believed anymore. Your head sunk into your shoulders in defeat before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Was he really selling drugs or did you plant them?”
“I didn't plant anything. I have no idea what he was up to. I just followed him with my car and made sure he went…”
“How did you know where he was?”
“You showed me where they were in that photo the other night. Their dumbasses even tagged the location.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“So you want the rundown after all.”
“Just wanna make sure… I don’t know anymore… I don’t know why I care at all,” you tiredly held your forehead on your palms.
“Look, the less you know the better. They won’t come after you. I’ll make sure of that… but to answer your question, no, nobody saw me. I used a different car, I scooped up the place the night before and just waited… I thought I’d have to do it when they were all asleep but, when he got into his truck I saw my chance.”
“Ya es suficiente.”
(That’s enough.)
You promptly stood up as you were torn in different directions inside. Turning your back on him, your hand reached for the door handle. “You should leave town while you can. I won’t tell anyone… but I can’t see you anymore.”
“So this is it? This is how it ends?”
“I don’t know… I just can’t really look at you right now. You put my life upside down in two days, Shane.”
“I’m so sorry for that. I really am. But I hope one day you have it in your heart to forgive me… I… I won’t be going anywhere. If you need me, I’m just one call away, Corazón.”
You didn’t look back, didn’t even glance over your shoulder one last time to see him as you stepped out of the room.
Emotionally and physically exhausted you drove home as your brain switched on autopilot. The next few days were hazy and draining. As soon as the body was released for burial you got the funeral out of the way quickly. It didn't surprise you that it was ruled as an accident, with the levels of alcohol in his blood and the drugs in the truck didn’t leave room for questioning foul play. And the worst part of it all, and that Shane was right, you didn’t feel bad at all for his death.
Though Shane left the hotel you worked at, he stayed in town. You saw his car parked by the diner the day you returned to work.
He stayed away. More than once you thought he’d come up out of the blue and show up on your porch, and you’d be too weak to deal with him again. But He didn’t even dare to call or text again after that day.
It wasn’t until three or so weeks later, when you started feeling more like your old self, you began going through Clayton’s stuff. There wasn’t really anything you wanted to keep, so you threw most of it in the donation pile and called it a day. There was one thing though, that you couldn’t sort, and it was the storage cabinet he had padlocked in the garage. You went through every drawer and pocket to find a key to it, but there was no luck. Maybe it was lost in the mountains with him, you thought. Then, as much as you wanted to avoid that, you had no choice but to search the bag you were given with the personal belongings he had during the ‘accident’. There you found the key attached to his keychain.
At that point, nothing surprised you anymore when you opened the cabinet to find a backpack filled with prescription pills and other drugs you didn’t recognize. Along with it there was also some cash, a gun with a box of ammo, his work tools, a pair of utility boots, and a few magazines.
Perhaps that’s the excuse you needed to see Shane again, who fucking knows, but for whatever reason you picked up the phone and called him. Without going into detail about your findings, you asked him to come over to look at your car instead and he did. A couple of hours later, as the sun went down, he knocked on your door.
“I’m glad you called,” he said.
“Follow me,” you requested dryly, as you guided him into the garage. With the door shut down to the driveway, you opened the cabinet and showed him. “Can you get rid of this?”
“Is this yours?” He scanned the bag of stash. “Have you been hiding a side hustle?”
“No, asshole. It was his. I’ve just found it and I don’t know what to do with it. Do I call the police?”
“Don’t. Please don’t do that,” he pleaded. “I’ve been watching those two, you know his friends, and they were in it too.”
“How do you know?”
“Cause I know. Why do you think they were so quick to rule it as an accident? They turned him into his errand boy. He didn't just go out for ice, he was making a drop that night. Those fucking pictures they kept posting? Those are their alibis.”
Short of breath, you took a step back and leaned against the hood of your car. “I don’t wanna know any of it. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’m tired of all this, Shane… I want it to be over.”
“Sorry… I… yeah, I’ll get rid of it.”
“What about the gun?”
He picked it up and made a thorough inspection making sure that it wasn’t loaded.
“I’ll take care of it too.”
“Wait, if it’s registered, shouldn’t I just turn it over or something?”
“Ghost gun. Has no serial number, see?” He turned it around and pointed at the side to show there was indeed no number where it was supposed to. “In normal circumstances, you could say you just found it, but in this case… I wouldn’t do it.”
“Got it. Just do what you have to do. Get rid of the cash too, I need all of it gone.”
“Now, hold on, there's like 8 G's here. You should keep that.”
“It's drug money, I don't want it.”
“Yeah, but you could use it for something good. Buy something for you or the baby.”
“I don't need it, I was doing pretty good without his money. I won't be able to use it without thinking about where it came from. I never took yours, I'm not gonna take his now.”
“Think it's for a good cause. Like it or not, he was her father, you could open a savings account for her. Don't let it go to waste, sweetheart. You might need it someday.”
“I… Sure. I guess you're right.”
“I could get you a good price on that bag too. I'm thinking about 5-”
“No, I don't want you to risk it. Just get rid of it. Burn it, bury it, toss it somewhere far away from here.”
“Are you sure? The Dixons owe me one, I could get them to–”
“I'm not gonna bend on this one Shane. I mean it. Stay away from the Dixons. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Alright, I’ll just get rid of it. But y’know I’m taking a huge risk getting this off your hands.”
“Oh.”
“So, are you sure you want me to? If they find me with this, I could get locked up again.”
“Ya empezamos… ¿Quieres algo a cambio?” You huffed, crossing your arms firmly over your belly.
(Here we go… You want something in return?)
“No, I mean… I just wanna see you for a coffee sometime.”
“Told you, I don’t drink coffee.”
“It doesn't have to be coffee.”
“I’m too tired to do this again Shane. Do it or don’t. I don’t care. After you’ve put me through… no tienes derecho a pedir nada.”
(You have no right to ask for anything.)
“Lo siento. Tenía que intentarlo. Can you blame me?”
(I’m sorry. Had to try.)
“Yes, I can.”
“Okay, I set myself up for that one,” he huffed, and looked at the bag in his hand, and reiterated. “I’ll take care of this, don’t worry about it. No strings attached.”
“Thank you.” It took you a moment to say it, but you did. “So, you’re not leaving town. You’re not scared of being found out?”
“No, I’m not scared of being found out.”
“And what’s your plan now?”
“I meant what I saw the other day. I'm staying. I got a job at Jim’s. He’s letting me use the trailer behind the shop to save some money. And that’s my plan for now. Why? Thought you didn’t care.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“No? It seems like you awfully care a lot about what happens to me for someone who says doesn’t give a fuck.”
“I was just curious, Shane. You can just go, we don’t have to keep talking.”
“But I like talking to you.”
“I know you do. That’s the only thing you have over me. Every time you open your mouth… you’re just one step closer to…”
“What? Changing your mind?”
“It’s not a good thing.”
“As I see it, it’s the best thing.”
“Of course you do.”
“Okay, let me ask you just one more thing, and then I’ll go.”
“Okay, one.”
“If someone you loved was treated like you were–”
“Shane… don’t.”
“Lemme finish, please. If someone you loved was treated like you were, wouldn’t you do something about it? What if it was one of your friends? What if it was me… or what if an asshole in 20 years treated your daughter like that? Would you just stand by and do nothing?”
“That’s not a fair question. You’re playing on my emotions right now. Of course, I’d do something about it.“
“Then, why is it different? Would you kill for me if I was in danger?”
“That’s more than one question.”
“Would you?”
“I don’t know. I guess it depends on the situation. Once upon a time, if you had asked me that, I’d say yes, I’d have killed anyone for you.”
“¿Y ahora?”
(And now?)
“No lo sé… I have something more pressing on my hands right now. I’m not alone anymore,” you glanced at your baby bump. “The difference between you and me is that I have to consider that what I do affects her.”
“Guess I should’ve thought that.”
“You should’ve.”
“We could still make it work. Maybe not now. But maybe someday when you can look at me again without seeing what I did. What do you think?”
“I think you’ve gone over the limit of questions you said you were going to ask, and my head is starting to hurt. But you know that I’ll never rule anything out between you and me. We’re both a lost cause. And if you really stay out of trouble and keep your word, who knows? Maybe one day I’ll change my mind.”
“That’s all I needed to hear, Corazón.”
Shane closed the backpack and slung it on his shoulder.
“Be careful with that.”
“Don't worry about me.”
His hand carefully slid on the side of your neck as Shane pressed his lips to your forehead. It lingered, once again making you feel as weak as the day you met him. It made you question whether to push him away or just give in to old habits. You've accepted that no matter what he did, you'd never be able to get rid of him.
You tentatively held his jaw between your palms, and stared at his lips for a beat before returning the kiss. It was soft and quick cause you didn't want to delve too fast and make it feel like a reward.
“I'll see you around,” you offered. That's the best you could do for now.
Hello! Idk if your requests are open (I think they are) and if you feel comfortable with this (it's absolutely okay if you don't <3) but I was thinking Remus X Latina!reader dating headcannons, I'm white but idc if you want to make it mixed/brown/black Latina. Also I'm from Argentina but again any country works.
Thank you so much darling🤍
Hi sweets! Thanks so much for your request. I've never done something like this before, so I hope this is what you were looking for!
Remus Lupin x Latinx!reader Headcanons (but doesn't specify gender, race, or home country - can be read to fit any nationality if you substitute the language)
He’d love listening to you talk. Either in English or in Spanish, it wouldn't doesn’t matter as long as it was your voice and your accent that he’s listening to
I think he’d make a point of mostly watching your lips as you spoke; how they moved around certain sounds and vowels, if your tongue made an appearance in any of the words you said – just completely mesmerized by your mouth
He’d beg you to teach him Spanish words, and he'd secretly revel in the sound of you laughing at him for his horrid pronunciation (even if he pretended it offended him)
He’d present it to you like a bargain: you teach him Spanish words and he’ll teach you Welsh words
He would absolutely relish in stories, any stories. Your stories of your home country/visiting your parent’s home country etc. etc. He loved family dinners at your home (after the first initial visit when he had no idea what to expect) where he’d get to listen to your parents, grandparents etc. share stories of their experiences and childhoods and culture. Bonus points if anyone whipped out a photo album – our poor Welsh boy didn’t have a lot of money and never dreamed of getting to experience anywhere other than the UK, so it felt like he got to travel through you and your family sharing these stories with him
I headcanon Remus to be a huge trinket guy – so if you went on holiday to your home country etc., and brought him back something trivial (like a shot glass, post cards, magnets, little statues, snow globes etc.) he’d treasure it, like he would just think that’s so special and would be so honoured to have something that was a) from so far away, b) was from a different culture and c) that made you think of him??? That man would melt.
If you guys lived together, he would insist you teach him how to cook some of your favourite traditional foods – partly because he wanted to eat yummy food, partly because he wanted to spoil you, but mostly it would be so he could spend an afternoon/evening alone with you in the kitchen, soaking up each other’s company.
° Asks for help with Spanish, a couple weeks before their world tour.
° Wants to learn as much as he can, to impress you and his fans. And would love to have another language that he can communicate to fans with.
° "Baby, how do I say 'Hello I am Bang Chan, the leader of Stray Kids?" he asked, as you were curled up in his lap while playing a video game on your phone.
° "Hola soy Bang Chan, el líder de los niños callejeros." You explained, smiling softly as he typed it into his notes 'folder' on his laptop.
Lee Know
° Would 100% show off some words he picked up from you, even if he messed it up.
° If he tries to insult or tease a member in Spanish, he'll go through you. Which usually leads to you making him compliment them without him knowing.
° "Sweetheart, how do you say 'Shut up Han.' In Spanish?" he asked, with a sly smirk. As of you'd actually tell how to insult one of his closest friends.
° "Te amo Han. (I love you Han)" You lied, soon making him realize your lie when Han replied with a long bear hug. Glaring at you playfully, as you stuck out your tongue.
Changbin
° You are shy with compliments and flirting in general, so you found an easier way to flirt.
° You simply just compliment him in Spanish, and let him figure it out in a translation app he has on his phone. Getting engulfed in a hug before you can escape.
° "Estoy tan enamorada de ti Seo Changbin. (I am so in love with you Seo Changbin)" You sighed, snuggling deeper into the strong grip he had around you.
° "I love you too bun bun." He replied quickly, booping your nose in the process. Making a new heat rise to you cheeks, knowing he must've studied some Spanish for you.
Hyunjin
° Hyunjin insisted on having a cute Spanish study date at your apartment.
° He kept feeding you your food, while learning the most flirtatious sentences to use against you and your already bashful state. He love when you become shy.
° "Okay let's focus, what sentence have you been practicing?" you replied, giggling slightly at his random flirtatious and sometimes suggestive actions.
° "Estás tan caliente cuando te pones nervioso. (You are so hot when you get flustered)" He answered, placing soft kisses all over your face.
Han
° You thought it would be cute to surprise him at a fansign.
° Jisung noticed you in the crowd immediately, sending large and excited hearts your way. Almost in tears of joy when you kept getting closer to him.
° "Te extrañé mucho bebé." You commented, knowing most of the fans at the meet wouldn't know what you were saying due to the different language.
° "Encuéntrame en el backstage después de esto, necesito abrazarte de nuevo. (Meet me backstage after this, I need to hold you again.) he sighed, trying to keep calm.
Felix
° Felix brought home pizza from your favorite pizza place, to surprise you.
° Once your boyfriend walked through the door, he overheard your ex's harsh voicemail as your cried on your bed. He ran up to you, kissing away your tears.
° "Nunca amará a una perra tan fea como tú. (He'll never love an ugly bitch like you)" was the last sentence heard, before Felix hung up the phone. Hearing enough of that annoying voice.
° "Me and your ex may speak different languages, but I won't hesitate to beat the shit out him if needed." Felix huffed, passing you a piece of pizza to cheer you up.
Seungmin
° Seungmin was curious in watching this new Spanish film with you.
° He knew there were captions, but he wanted to challenge his knowledge and learn more about different cultures. So you taught him some basic Spanish lessons.
° "Te amo mi angel precioso." He repeated, blushing at your sweet compliment. Swiftly pausing the movie to kiss you, playing it and moving away before you could process it.
° "Give me more kisses when the credits start." You beg, wrapping your arms around his waist. Making his focus on the movie blur due to your adorable affectionate actions.
Jeongin
° Jeongin was inspired by your level of knowledge to so many different cultures.
° He stared at you with admiration filling his chocolate glossy orbs, as you flipped through a mystery novel that was in complete Spanish.
° "Bub your staring again." you giggled, closing your book to squish his cheeks. A dark blush crept it's way to his ears, bashful at the knowledge of you catching him.
° "Simplemente te amo. Mucho. (I just love you a lot.)...was that right?" he asked, nervously fiddling with your intertwined hands. Making you fall deeper in love with him.
