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#Jessie Shane
antiqua-lugar · 7 months
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also as a quick note, "Who is James Somerton trying to fool"...exactly who he was trying to fool before, impressionable young queer people and anyone who watched his content without paying too much attention.
One of the most astounding things about Somertom is how blatant his lies were if you knew anything about the subject and how obvious his misoginy, queerphobia and racism were. He was also very open about how he DEFINITELY was the only queer voice worth listening to, to the point that he accused Nebula of being unable to accept a visionary like him.
He still got caught but he kept getting away with it using the same tactics. It was everyone's fault but his, the haters were out to get him for no reason, he was getting death threats and that's obviously more important than whatever controversy he was on...
And now he released an apology video where he actually did nothing bad, but if he did it's because he just cared so much about the queer community and because he is neurodivergent and has epilepsy and memory issues and also he is poor and his mother died and doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?
He seems also to be carefully deleting any comment that points out everything else he did not address and liking comments that think he should get a second chance.
If he manages to pull through he is probably gonna start a narrative where everyone deserves a second chance and everyone who brings up his past behaviour is just a bully who is not letting him grow or a desparate hater and "he apologized to everyone involved so what else do these people want from him :(".
hbomberguy and Todd In The Shadows' videos were amazing, but the world moves on and people have a tendency to forget. That's who he is trying to fool.
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letthewhumpbegin · 21 days
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Maneater (2022)
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Round 3B Matchup 2
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May the most fuckable win!
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rustbeltjessie · 9 months
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That night, I had two opposite—but equally intense—impulses. One of them was to get fucking wasted. To get as wasted as I would have in those “singing along to ‘Sally MacLennane’ in the pub” days; to get so plowed all the stuff that Shane’s death brought up for me would sink beneath a stream of whiskey. The other was to not drink, at all; to not only stay sober that night but to never touch a drop of booze again. Because of Shane’s life-long struggles with addiction, because of so many of my beloveds’ struggles with addiction, because of my own struggles with addiction—my own affinity for hurling [myself] toward oblivion in the back of some grim and sticky dive, as Amanda Petrusich put it in her wonderful tribute to Shane. —from "That night, Rain Street went on for miles."
The newest installment of my newsletter is about Shane MacGowan/The Pogues, punk/poetry, addiction, and romanticizing things that are 'bad,' amongst other things. I've been working on this one for a month, and I'm glad it's finally out in the world.
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sapphicsukeve · 1 year
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Kat Slaters hen do (19/09)
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rickgrimesrp · 1 year
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When Rick falls for someone, he starts having a butterfly feeling in his stomach, the feeling of excitement and anticipation when he's around that person or when he thinks about them. He starts wanting to spend as much time possible with them and finds himself thinking about the person most of the time. He starts seeing the person he fell for in a different light as well, everything they do starts having a spark to it and Rick starts noticing little things about the person he hadn't noticed before. The person's words hit different and Ricky will try to make them laugh and smile. The person's flaws will start to sound endearing and he would love to be with them no matter what- BEING with them meaning spending moments together, being relevant parts of each other's life, sharing happiness and bonding. He will also provide everything the person needs, specially if they can't on their own- and specially food. And weapons. He will find many weapons.
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He also might want to kill the person's husband, specially if it's an abuser. (just joking, no not really joking. Sorry Jessie.) If someone abuses of hurts the person, he might go on a hunting killing spree for revenge / justice btw)
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@vuulpecula
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dragonseeds · 6 months
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thinking about shane telling rick congratulations when he finds out lori’s pregnant and both of them knowing full fucking well that baby is shane’s still makes me crazy in ways i cannot describe
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stray-stay4life · 9 months
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Short and simple description of shane and jessie's relationship in new york ruthless series:
Jessie: i love u but I dont want to love u
Shane: i love u but I cant give u a second chance and say it out
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razorsadness · 3 months
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At first, I thought I’d write it as a proper installment of TFS. Not about their whole discography, because The Pogues released many albums, and trying to write about them all would be too daunting. And writing about a singular album wouldn’t work. I love too many songs from too many of their albums, and writing about one of their Best Of collections seemed like cheating. Okay, so I’d pick one song and write about it. But which song? Can’t write about “Fairytale of New York,” that’s too obvious, even if it is the best Christmas song of all time. What about “Haunted,” the song they wrote for the Sid and Nancy soundtrack? (Or the version that Shane and Sinéad O’Connor recorded together in the ‘90s?) That one hurt too much to even consider writing about right then. And speaking of Pogues songs which break my fuckin’ heart, what about “A Rainy Night in Soho,” which is not only my favorite Pogues song, but is also one of the finest love songs ever written? But I’ve already written about that song and my personal connection to it. Shit. Maybe I should go for one of their less melancholy-sounding tunes. Maybe I could write about “Sally MacLennane?” I have enough memories attached to that one. Memories of sitting in a pub in Kenosha, Racine, Sister Bay, Gettysburg, Philadelphia, wherever, with my best Filia and whoever else happened to be around, playing that song on the jukebox, using our hands to pound out the rat-a-tat-tat on the grimy bartop, screeching “Far Away!” during the choruses.
As all this was going through my mind, I checked my phone again. There was a text from Filia. A link to the news of Shane’s death, and then a message from her, saying the legendary :(. We texted back and forth for a bit. About how that news was the first thing we saw upon waking. About how he’d been sick for so long that it wasn’t a surprise, yet we were still shocked and sad. How we were sadder about it than we ‘should be,’ considering we didn’t know the man personally. Maybe emotional is a better word for what we’re feeling, she said. I agreed. Sad, emotional, whatever you wanted to call it, Shane’s death brought up a lot of stuff for both of us.
One of the things it brought up for me was the memory of finding out about Joe Strummer’s death. It was December 2002. I had just flown back to Chicago from visiting Filia on the east coast. When I got back to my apartment, there was a message from her on my answering machine. “I have bad news,” she said. “Call me back as soon as you can.” I called her immediately, and she broke the news to me, and we sat there together, trying to imagine life in a Joe Strummer-less world. I’ve written about that before, too, but it bears repeating, because—there we were, twenty-one years on. There we were, together across the miles, processing the loss of another beloved songwriter who’d provided the soundtrack to our lives.
—Jessie Lynn McMains, from "That night, Rain Street went on for miles." (December 2023)
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New Video: Permanent Moves Teams Up with Jessie Shelton on Gorgeous "Don't Forget Us"
New Video: Permanent Moves Teams Up with Jessie Shelton on Gorgeous "Don't Forget Us" @heygroover @romainpalmieri @DorianPerron
Formed back in 2016, Brooklyn-based indie electro folk/rock outfit Permanent Moves features two highly acclaimed artists: Julia Sirna-Frest: Fest is a Brooklyn-based musician, performer and director, who has a number of credits to her name, including [Porto] (WP Theater, The Bushwick Starr); Lunch Bunch (PlayCo, Clubbed Thumb); Seder (Hartford Stage); A Tunnel Year (The Chocolate Factory); The…
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jacensolodjo · 6 months
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I got bored and decided to work on my PS skills a little. I still need more practice but. considering i haven't done manips in like FOREVER.
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trendfilmsetter · 11 months
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Grammy Nominations for Songwriter of the Year, Non-Classical
Edgar Barrera
Jessie Jo Dillon
Justin Tranter
Shane McAnally
Theron Thomas
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rustbeltjessie · 10 months
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Saint MacGowan // Jessie Lynn McMains, November 2023
I'm not singing for the future I'm not dreaming of the past I'm not talking of the first times I never think about the last Now the song is nearly over We may never find out what it means Still there's a light I hold before me You're the measure of my dreams The measure of my dreams —The Pogues, "A Rainy Night in Soho"
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sapphicsukeve · 1 year
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Kat Slater + Alfie Moon 11/09
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Showmance - (Part 3)
These involve two House Guests involved in a romantic and flirtatuous relationship, usually for entertainment purposes. However, many reality shows involve showmances.
List of Showmances:
Danielle Murphee and Shane Meaney
Ashley Iocco and Ian Terry
Ashley Iocco and Frank Eudy
Aaryn Gries Williams* and David Girton
Kaitlin Barnaby and Jeremy McGuire
Amanda Zuckerman Zachman** and McCrae Olson
Jessie Kowalski and Judd Daugherty
Aaryn Gries Williams and Judd Daugherty
Candice Stewart and Howard Overty
Nicole Franzel-Arroyo*** and Hayden Voss
Frankie Grande and Zach Rance
Shelli Poole and Clay Honeycutt
Liz Nolan and Austin Matelson
Natalie Negrotti and Victor Arroyo
Nicole Franzel-Arroyo and Corey Brooks
Zakiyah Everette and Paulie Calafiore
*Aaryn went by Aaryn Gries at the time
**Amanda went by Amanda Zuckerman at the time
***Nicole went by Nicole Franzel at the time
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grimesgirll · 5 months
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alexandria is the break you've been yearning for since shit hit the fan.
an independent walled and gated community is exactly the place to catch your breath. the past eighteen months had been a blur of grit and gore; you deserve to decompress in a pretty house, not that you spent all of your time in your new settlement inside. you made a point to take judith on daily walks.
you're returning from one of your new routine walks to get judith down for her afternoon nap when you find olivia - the neighbor lady who ran the armory and the pantry - on the porch, greeting your name.
“hi,” you reply with a smile, bolstering the cooing baby on your hip. “what do i owe you the pleasure, olivia?”
“i’ve been meaning to get over here ever since shane brought it up to me-,” you pause. “-i wouldn’t mind having another set of hands around the armory at all, especially with the background shane mentioned you had.”
you purse your lips. “thanks. could we talk about this another time? maybe after the weekend? i’ll stop by.” you gesture to the little girl on your hip. “it’s just that i want to get her down now so her routine isn’t all out of whack later tonight.”
olivia nods, glasses bouncing a bit. “of course. come see me whenever you’re ready.”
you’re smiling and thanking her again before crossing the threshold with a huffy chest. it takes patience on your part not to slam the door but with judith in your arms, you slowly close it.
why would shane sign you up to work in the armory? is he stupid? you ponder. he didn’t even ask if you wanted to do something like that. you dismiss the thought the best you can and just focus on getting judith to sleep.
thank god for the blackout curtains jessie had sent over. judith sleeps like the dead with those things drawn.
a little rocking and the dark room do well to help the infant fall asleep in no time. that allows you to meander down the living room and hear the door swinging open.
"babe, we're back.”
you perk your head up when you see shane and rick come through the door. “hey, guys,” you forget to ask them how their day’s been when you see their new uniforms.
you have to pick up your jaw when you see the two men dressed in matching constable’s uniforms. you and shane hadn’t been dating for long when the world went to shit. he’d met you right after work before, even picked you up in the cruiser before but you forgot how strapping he looked in a uniform. brown and form fitting, you’re thanking the constable’s office inventory for stocking such flattering apparel.
you almost forget the frustration you’re harboring - the anger that had boiled, all because of how his ass looked in those brown fucking slacks.
“good to see you,” rick says with the same tone he had back on the side of the road when he helped you step back into your underwear.
“good to see you too,” you repeat, biting your lip.
a smirk appears on shane’s lips once he realizes you’re checking out their asses as you take their coats.
"why don't you head upstairs? we'll be up in a few minutes."
you nearly drop the jackets from your arms. “for what?” you ask, playing dumb.
rick is wordless and shane just smiles at you, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “you’ll see. we’ll see you soon enough.”
the bedroom is your next destination.
you’re tiptoeing up the stairs as not to disrupt nap time. those light treading feet are carrying you straight to the bed where you crumple into the comforter.
long was your day, longer would be your night. this is by virtue of the fact that you’ll have to ask shane about why olivia was about to onboard you to work in alexandria’s armory. and you’ll probably get split in half by an eight inch cock by the end of the night. you decide to put off your conversation with shane when your mind wanders to the newly clean shaven constable downstairs.
god, did he fit those pants wonderfully.
the man had been on your mind ever since this situationship of sorts emerged between the three of you - sans labels. awkward as it seemed, given all of your histories.
and then there’s shane.
don’t get you wrong, shane would give you the world if he could. whatever it would take to keep you nice and happy and purring “yes, shane” at his every word. he goes to greater lengths not just for your safety but for your convenience.
the man who’d circled back on a run after realizing he didn’t bring back your favorite brand of tampons. then again when the tampons be found had cardboard applicators. the one who held you at night in your shared cell back at the prison, kissed you and petted your hair, nuzzling as close as possible and telling you it would be alright. the man who trusted you to take care of his baby girl.
the one who had taken the time to give you not one but multiple masterclasses on firearms, shooting, and gun maintenance. he insisted that you know how to take care of yourself if it ever came down to and it boy, had it come down to it. more than once, you’d found yourself aiming your pistol and being forced to make a split second decision. the same man embraced you and reassured you in the aftermath of your beretta’s rounds claiming your first non-walker kill.
the man who’s about to fuck you into the mattress with his best friend.
you try to hold onto that thought as you shimmy out of the blue levi’s, deserting them on the floor thoughtlessly in search something cozier. digging through shane’s newly filled dresser drawers seems like an easy enough solution.
speak of the devil, he walks in with rick while you’re appraising a pair of gray sweatpants with a georgetown insignia on them.
“thought you had your own sweats.” shane’s behind you in an instant. just like rick, he’d noticed the way your sweatshirt falls to your thighs. “why don’t you just save those for later and let me help you take the rest off, huh?”
a telltale smirk takes over your face. a slant back into shane tells him all he needs to know.
he waits to toss you over his shoulder and situate you on the bed before he's yanking your boy briefs down your legs and brushing your clit with his fat finger. it's only natural that he's chuckling into your skin when you tense beneath him. prodding and playing with your newly awakened nerves, shane still managed to signal rick over to begin a maddening campaign, attacking your flush skin with their lips.
the lips on your that skin feel so deliciously inviting that you disregard how tender they turn you.
of course, shane is the one that can’t stand to wait.
“down you go, pretty girl.”
in an instant, he’s behind you with a finger in your pussy. you want to be upset that he's not still paying attention to the blushed out surface of your body but you’re too preoccupied with the hand in between your shoulder blades, encouraging your forearms down to the mattress. shane’s maintaining his grip on your hips and propping them up to send your ass straight towards the ceiling.
the moment that you feel a warm tongue, licking painfully slowly, and thoroughly towards your center, your hips jerk. shane is already bracing them, cooing, “easy, girl,” into your thigh before continuing the languid assault on your lips.
the lips on your face are pecked, if only briefly, by your boyfriend’s former crimefighting partner. licking your lips, you’re wishing he would circle back to connect your mouths again when a sharp sting interrupts your thoughts.
“fuck!” you cry into the comforter.
the obvious culprit is already testing the skin of your ass with his palm again. another yelp has blue eyes boring down, as if trying to memorize each moment you react - so expressively - to shane’s ministrations.
“what was that for?” you question, rotating your head to stealth a glance at him.
“fun.”
you’re about to tell shane about his idea of fun before a final slap and a sudden return to teasing your core spurs you away from the thought. pressure and heat course through you; shane just raises your internal temperature with a purposeful finger. you're whimpering at just the first stretch. past your throbbing rings of muscle, shane weaves a path with a single finger.
a heaved out moan has shane licking his lips. “gettin’ worked up off my fingers, baby?”
you nod. without a doubt.
another finger continues the mission of prying your tight cunt open for the men that would be taking turns with you until you’d come all over both their cocks. knuckle deep inside of you, the pressure is going to kill you before that third finger does.
“shane,” you’re hissing when he adopts a pace that has you clawing at his two fingers. “why are you being so aggressive with your fingers?”
“weren’t you complainin’ that it was ‘too much,’” he denotes with air quotes, “last time?”
rick seems to give you some breathing room at his friend’s taunt. he slinks back like his massive cock wasn’t the reason you’d been a sobbing mess in cowgirl on top of him the night before your group had reached noah’s old community in richmond.
you’d come so pornographically hard around him that you swear it’d been in your top five orgasms. but your cervix was still shot.
rick felt guilty. so guilty that he hasn’t fucked you since. only your mouth. of course he treated you to his mouth, his perfect tongue and his hands but you crave him inside of you. the thought of it with shane’s two pronged touch has you nearly grinding up the bed.
“fuck, shane,” you’re mumbling into the comforter, fists clenching when another finger worms into you.
“you ‘bout ready, baby?” shane asks, placing a strategic stripe down your clit as he fully buries his middle three fingers in you.
“mhmm.”
“wanna ask?”
a steady sentence isn’t going to come out of your mouth with how shane’s thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “please,” you sputter when he entrenches his fingers deeper inside of you.
“what was that?” the condescension in his voice has you squelching around his fast moving fingers.
you’re blushing at rick who has a hand on his cock and is staring straight into your teary eyes. “i want you to fuck me now, shane.” you don’t break eye contact with rick. “please.”
another smack lands on your reddening backside and suddenly those pleasure granting fingers are digging into your hip and you feel shane’s girth at your entrance.
“what do you want, baby?” shane asks. “you want me to fill you up?”
“yes, i want it so bad,” you’re begging through pouted lips.
rick doesn’t miss your doe eyes or how you moan shane’s name as he fulfills your fucked out request and fills you. even someone in the hallway can hear the wet sound from shane teasing your leaking cunt.
a few experimental strokes and shane is already balls deep. he didn’t heed the same new code of chivalry rick had adopted upon finding a hint of blood on the tip of his dick. that experience made you want to pull your hair out. stupid fucking cervix, you’d thought, ruining me getting fucked. rick didn’t usually treat you to such a pounding but the road did that to one. besides, he was freshly addicted to your cunt.
the electric feeling from how he’d taken you with shane that first time reignite as your boyfriend adjusts himself to brush against your g-spot. the fucked out look on your face can’t be missed as you let shane shovel his hips into you and closer to the only finish line you’d ever had no problem crossing. just like rick had plowed you into the mattress of the barracks you’d all stayed at in norfolk.
these thoughts of rick can’t escape you - even with shane groaning your name. the swats to your ass just go straight to your cunt and do little to rouse you from your daydreaming about the man lining himself up with your mouth.
yeah, you’re out of your mind already and he doesn’t even have his dick inside of you again.
“so good for me, baby,” shane’s gasping, his hand sliding down your ass to brace your thigh and fuck you deeper. “so good for us.”
rick nods, fingers pushing your hair out of your face and letting you take your time with him in your mouth. you hollow your cheeks and rock forward with shane when he cants into you. he’s gazing down at you as if this is the prettiest he’s ever seen you.
you could keep your eyes on him forever if it weren’t for the orgasm searing through you. it’d built up as you backed into shane and imagined how full rick would have you feeling - how connected, how close you’d feel with him inside of you.
“should’ve knocked you up back at the farm.”
god, that would’ve been inconvenient. you just focus on the pleasure you’re receiving and how you’re in alexandria with two men amazingly attractive men. it’s not the time but then again, shane doesn’t give you much of a choice with how revved up this whole coming in you business seems to be getting him. you can’t lie; it’s affecting you too.
so much that you’re nearly protesting when rick withdraws his twitching cock from between your lush lips, less than when shane pulls out of you. you won’t be protesting about what comes next though.
the first time rick had fucked your pussy you’d been whining, and you’re doing the same thing now.
“you wanna get on top?” shane questions, requiring you to repeat yourself before rick leans against the headboard.
still snickering at the whine that came out of you, your boyfriend helps to lift you and lower your hips onto rick who’s sprawled on his back, bronzed curls against the propped up pillow. rick hisses when his tip makes contact with your drowning heat again.
shane doesn’t waste any time. his hands are off you so he can situate himself on the bed to accommodate the best view of you two.
unfortunately, you’re not in shane’s lap so rick has him beat for the best seat in the house. or do you hold that seat?
your boyfriend hadn’t seemed too worried about you sliding too far down onto rick but rick was. his hands are firm on your hips - holding them in a semi-permanent place, only maneuvering for you as you rotate your hips down onto him.
“rick,” you rasp, wrapping your arms around his neck. you want to hear more from him so badly - to hear him panting your name. that’s your goal when you hurry your hips against him. you can tell that he’s hesitating, holding you back at first until you wiggle enough for him to allow you to break free.
grinding onto him, you watch a puffed out series of breaths escape his mouth. not missing a beat, you reposition your hips to sink deeper, hissing with rick and leaning into him. that’s when your clit begins to explode with pleasure from the friction.
“fuck,” you’re chanting. “fuck, that’s good. feels so good. fuck. fuck, that’s perfect.”
“dirty girl.” shane is teasing.
“just feels so fuckin’ good,” you’re twisting on top of rick, angling yourself against his pulsing member to stimulate all the perfect parts of your pelvis.
“is rick fucking you good, honey?”
you nod, having been given full license to be honest about how rick is making you gush.
“how good?” shane asks, hazel eyes on you while you ride rick.
your lip quivers. you feel rick thrum inside of you. “soooo good.” you’re saying in the lust addled way only you would. “you both make me feel so on.”
shane’s cock jumps and rick is picking up the pace. whatever motion your clit’s endured against rick is nothing once he crescents his fingertips into your sides. nice and deep, rick is threatening your cervix again but you don’t need to worry because he’s just taking the scenic route to your g-spot.
the same spot that’s making your toes curl and you chant for rick. “i’m close again,” you warn him. your head is falling onto his shoulder, blocking shane from view.
“you’ve got it, almost there, sweetheart,” rick rumbles into your ear.
his now gravelly voice against your ear has your cunt tightening. teeth pressed into your shoulder, you yelp and moan when rick brushes the flesh of your skin with his teeth. the purple marks being sown onto you will bloom later on but you don’t mind. not when your legs are shaking and you’re whimpering, “god, rick, you make me feel so fucking good.”
and suddenly you’re being fucked through your orgasm face down.
“so jessie cut your hair?”
rick nods and you’re hyper aware of how short his hair is. he’s so polished too. not that it’s terribly difficult to be after traveling on the road for so long.
“i liked your long hair. you should grow it out again.”
the new constable raises an eyebrow, leaning up on his forearms to sit up. “gotta’ shape up at some point.”
you would argue but shane’s distracting you with kisses to your shoulders and promises of morning sex already. you’re not distracted enough to miss rick’s weight absent from the pliable surface.
rick rises from the bed and you whine.
“i want rick to stay.”
shane scoffs. he extends his brawny arms across the bed. “baby, there’s barely enough room in the bed for the two of us.”
you shake your head, sitting up on your knees. “i think we can make it work. please,” you take a breath. “i just feel safer with you two in bed.”
“honey, there’s no room.”
“okay, i’ll just sleep on top of him then.”
you end up basically on top of rick - not that he minds. the night is spent with cuddled up into his chest; shane cupping the occasional hand around the curve of your ass.
weirdly, you’re falling asleep in no time. the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulls you. sleeping on top of rick might have to become a part of your bedtime routine.
shane wants you to pull a hostile takeover of the armory.
you stand with your arms crossed, giving the man one of your signature frowns. "why would i want to keep an eye on olivia in the armory?"
shane looks at you as if it's obvious. "it's good to have a hand on things," he explains, sighing your name. "it's good to have someone on the inside, in case..."
"-in case what?" you question.
shane stares at his feet.
you smolder. "you seriously can't be expecting to have to seize their guns, shane. we just got here for christ's sake."
"it's not even like that, baby," shane says, trying to walk back his conspiracy plots from you. “i just would feel better having you there. besides, it’s not like it’d be all the time and you could learn more about gun storage, whatever you want now
“that doesn’t sound like whatever i want, it sounds like you’re shoving me in the armory.”
“baby, you don’t have to do anything, i’m just sayin’-,”
“i’ll work in the armory if you stop giving me shit about going hunting.”
shane frowns af you. “now, you know that’s different.”
you cross your arms. “it’s not. i need a change of scenery, maybe some greenery to be specific.”
shane presses a flexed hand against the wainscoting he’s leaned up against. he shakes his head. “maybe once we know things are stable here, but for right now these people are far less capable than we are. i’d feel better with you in the armory.”
you want to ask him to consider what you want for a change. you honestly want to tell him to go fuck himself but then you remember.
ah, the thing that you want. the man that you want. the man you can only have with shane’s smirking approval.
so you just smile, walk over and take him by surprise, planting a kiss on cheek and telling him you’ll start tomorrow. it’ll all pay off in the long run.
the welcome party is a success.
if not for the fact that shane didn’t kill spencer just for saying hello to you, then for the fact that you got trashed.
so trashed that rick had ended up hauling your ass home when you hurled in one of deanna’s planters and shane was too embroiled in a push-up contest with abraham to even think about heading home. not that shane had ended up any better. the man drank so much johnny walker that even he came home and passed out face first in the bed bedside you.
you’re hungover the next morning, so hungover that rick moved you out of shane’s bed and into his to hang off the edge and puke your guts up.
rick even roped carol into coming over to cook and watch judith while you and shane recovered.
he even brings you soup.
“damn, look who’s still out of it.”
seems shane had recovered.
“she drinks like she’s still in kappa delta.”
rick rubs a circle or two into your back. “what’d you say? you won’t puke all over your bed, will ya’?”
when you’re well enough, you patter downstairs
“you’re looking better.”
“thanks, carol,” you return her jab with a wry smile.
“so,” the gray haired woman braces her hands on the picnic table at the base of the orchard. “are you going to help me with these apricots are what?” your gaze falls from the woman to her basket and circles back to the trees overhead. “the apricots came in early here. what do you think of apricots in march?”
you shrug. “i really don’t know much about fruits,” you admit as you take the chestnut colored basket into your hand.
it’s so odd seeing carol in her little pseudo-mr. rogers act, costume and all. the cardigan and capris paint a picture of the picture homemaker - a real martha stewart type.
and one of the most tactful, five steps ahead of you types that you’d ever met.
you wonder if this carol had laid dormant for some years.
the two of you work through the trees, plucking the precious fruit that was ready for harvest and leaving the rest.
“so, you having fun playing house?”
your mouth gapes open. you nearly drop your basket and waste quite a lot of apricots.
carol snorts at you. “i’m just kidding.” she sends you a look like you’re incredulous or something. “do what you want.” you pluck an apricot from the tree before you. gossamer head tilting when your apricot picking partner speaks again. “but just keep your priorities straight.”
you stiffen. that’s not what you were expecting. maybe some more sage or cunning advice is what you thought would be coming out of her mouth. priorities? you don’t wanna think about them. the priorities that you’ve been saddled with.
you moan someone about your hangover and muddle through the rest of your apricot picking, trying to keep your mind from defining your priorities.
the two of you part when at the sidewalk in front of your porch, with her last words to you being:
“you be careful.”
“gonna have to go out and find a king sized bed if rick’s gonna be stayin’ over this often.” shane comments and rolls onto his side to face you.
you shrug. “i’m fine with the arrangement the way it is.”
“yeah? sleeping on top of rick?”
you continue brushing your hair. “beds are hard to come by, especially great gigantic sized beds.”
“i’m sure there’s a king somewhere.”
“yeah.”
shane’s eyes don’t leave you as you set your hairbrush down on the vanity and tie it back. he’s even closer once you settle into your spot on the mattress. arms clutch you into him and lazy patterns begin to materialize on your skin, from massages into the nap of your neck to a dull squeeze of your ass. it makes you feel easy - subdued almost by shane’s unhurried touch. but you’re still wound up. you don’t know how you can be anything else nowadays.
"night, baby," shane mumbles into your ear.
"night." you reply, eyes focused on the single beam of moonlight tumbling through the window.
with rick down the hall, you won’t be sleeping tonight.
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