#mohamed lundy imagine

[prettieparker86]

Degrees of Freedom Part 2

Pairing: Mohamed “Mo” Lundy x Reader

Part 1

Warning: This part contain violence and depictions of domestic violence. If that is a trigger for you please feel free to skip this one.

Gif Credit: These incrediable gifs are by @maurawrites and @xladymorganx. Thank you for letting me use your beautiful gifs!

A/N: I really tried to focus on the reader in this part. I tried to give more context and offer more of Mo’s background last part. This part is meant to give context on who you the reader is in this world. I also tried to show the connection between you and Mo, but that will only steadily build.

Also, in case it’s unclear, “Y/N” is Your Name. I really hate using that, but I couldn’t get around it this time.

For those who have read my writing in the past know that I do not shy away from difficult topics. I do not sugar coat them or soften the blow. I always aim to be honest and raw, because tough topics are raw and I feel writing them any other way, does an injustice to those have endured them in real life. Hence, the trigger warning.

If you like this part let me know. Want more? Cuz I could take this a little further, unless two parts is good?

So scared, you couldn’t think straight. So scared, your thoughts run fleeting and erratic. 

Everything you did was on adrenaline and a deep primal desperation to protect yourself and your child… 

You had enough.

You were left lying on the floor in your own blood after Billy leaves to go drink more and do God only knows what. 

Hours later he’ll return to apologize with chocolates or flowers and empty promises no doubt, but you won’t be there to receive them.

 When you were finally able to get off the linoleum floor, you splashed water on your face from the kitchen sink, trying to clean off what blood you could. 

Then you tried your best to quite your baby girl’s tears of terror, but you knew there was little you could do to convince her you were ok, because you weren’t.  

Snatching up the money you had been secretly saving just for this occasion, you packed what you could in a frenzy. 

You hadn’t bothered to look in the mirror. You didn’t need to to know there was no fooling anyone how injured you were.

 Loading your baby girl into the car, you took off. You told yourself you had a plan. You had thought about this many times before, but as you drove down the highway you realized that wasn’t actually true. 

You couldn’t go to your mom’s, she’d patch you up and send you back. Her own history of shit leaving her unsympathetic to yours. 

Same with most of your family. People say they’ll help, but most don’t really want to get involved and face the possible blowback. 

And those that would help… Well, you’d only be putting them in danger when Billy found out they were harboring you and Ella. So you kept driving.

 You didn’t know where you were going until you found yourself parked in the lot for an apartment complex you had never been to before. Thank god for your trusty GPS. 

Clutching the steering wheel tightly in your shaking hands, you fought against the tears welled up high in your eyes. The salt stinging your face as they run down. 

You can’t think straight as your mind moves with a frantic buzz. Nothing makes sense, nothing seems like a clear answer. 

Pulling the hood of your jacket over your head to cover your face as best you can, you climb out and retrieve your daughter. 

Thankful she had fallen asleep. But your heart feels broken and guilt riddled knowing she did it through tears. 

You never wanted this for her and more days than not you feel like you’ve failed her as a mom.

 Holding her tightly against you, you moved slowly to the door. Every step a labor of pain, but you clench your teeth and bare it, trying not to wake her. She’s been through enough already.

It’s dark out all round. The rational side of you would have been embarrassed showing up this late, showing up at all, but there’s very little that’s rational about you right now. 

When he said come by any time, you doubt he meant this.

Knocking on the door, your hearts pounds hard as you wait to see if it will answer, not sure what you’ll do if it don’t. 

When the door cracks open and your eye’s meet Mo’s in the dark, you feel your body start to shake harder, your lips unable to speak.

 There’s a look in his eyes like he can’t believe you’re there. His brow furrows as his gaze looks you up and down before meeting your eyes again, his eyes full of confusion.

“Y/N?” He asks cautiously, his breath low as if he can’t believe his eyes.

You open your mouth to speak, but you don’t know what to say. You can only imagine what this must look like.

“I didn’t know where else to go… I didn’t know… I’m sorry…” Your shaky breath spits out. You didn’t know what to say. How could you explain this.

 “Come on,” Opening the door wide, he ushers you in without another word. “Is’ alright.” He reassures you. His kindness easing some of your worries.

Stepping into his living room, you watch Mo’s eyes dilate wide as he gets a better look at you.

“Wh- What happened to you?” He asks his piercing blue eyes glued onto your face. A look of shock stuck on his.

You want to shrink away, hide but there’s nowhere to go, so you distract yourself. 

Drawing your attention elsewhere as you look around the room for somewhere to place Ella. 

Still sound asleep in your arms and your grateful for that, but it’s killing you to keep holding her. Your abdomen is throbbing so bad it’s making your legs shake and you’re afraid they might give out.

 You were hoping for a couch, but looking around you see the room is empty besides a fold up camping chair.

 “Do you have somewhere I can put her?” You ask shakily, your voice rattled.

Nodding quick, Mo reaches out to touch you before stopping and running his hand down his face instead.

“Yeah, come on.” He says, leading you to the back of the apartment and into what must be his bedroom.

You look around and find only a mattress on the floor and other various belongings neatly lined up on the tile, against the wall. 

On any other day, you might question this, but it’s the least of your concerns right now.

 “She can sleep here.” Mo says, as you brace yourself, gritting your teeth before you slowly lower down to the mattress. 

The pain shoots through your ribcage as a gasp you can’t hold back escapes you with the movement. 

Laying your baby down, you make sure she’s still asleep and comfortable before you try to move again. Your knees slide off the mattress and onto the tile, your hands following. 

You’re going to push yourself back onto your feet, knowing you won’t make it if you try to just stand up normally, but as you try to rise a sharp pain rips through your ribs. 

Gasping out, you fall back to the tile on your hands and knees, grinding your teeth to suppress your cries.

 “Y/N,” You hear Mo softly call your name as he crouches to your side. Gently sweeping your hair behind your ear so he can see your face.

You glance at him in the faint light shooting in from the open door, fighting back the tears you don’t want him to see fall. It’s embarrassing enough having him see you like this.

“I’m gonna help you up, but I gotta touch you.” He explains, as if he needs to say it aloud and have you agree before he tries.

Reaching out a hand to you, you take it as you nod. You feel Mo’s arm wrap around your back and grip you just under your arm. With a slow ease, he lifts you to your feet.

 Standing in his dimly light bedroom, face to face just inches apart, Mo’s stares at you with a look of deep concern etched across his face.

“Hell Darlin’,” He lets out on a deep shaky breath, taking in the sight of your face. 

“Who did this to you?”

That look in his eyes makes you want to cry again and sends you moving past him in search of the bathroom.

 Knowing your baby is finally safe and you got away, your adrenaline starts to wear off and you’re left with a shaky lightheaded feeling as you walk into his bathroom, bracing the countertop to steady yourself.

Pulling up your shirt to just under your bra, you try to get a good look at the damage in the mirror. 

Bracing yourself for the pain you rise up on your toes, looking at your stomach in the mirror trying to see how bad it is. 

From your ribs to your hip bones, your skin is marred in various places with big splotches of deep red and purple, but you can’t tell if any is broken.

 You hear a heavy ragged breath and realize it’s not yours as you glance over and spot Mo standing in front of the door. 

A strange mixture of disbelief and anger brewing in his piercing gaze, tensing his brow as he stares at you.

“You think anything’s broken?” You ask.

“I think you need a doctor.” Mo answers through a tight jaw, his eyes glued on your abdomen, before he seems to notice what he’s doing and sheepishly looks up to meet your gaze.

“No doctors.” You adamantly say with a quick shake of your head. 

Doctors mean police, police mean investigations, investigations mean Billy will find you and Ella. You can’t have that. You’re determined to handle this on your own.

 You could breath, you aren’t dying, you feel sure of that. You’ve been here enough times to have some vague way of gauging the damage. 

You just want to know if anything is broken. Maybe that’s dumb denial, but it’s all you’ve got right now. 

You know what will happen if Billy finds you and you can’t risk it.

Mo closes his eyes, shaking his head as if he doesn’t agree with this at all and you feel guilty for bringing him into it. He didn’t deserve this.

“I just need to know if anything’s broken,” You say, your eyes reaching out for him, a quiet desperation on your breath.

“Mo…” You practically plead as he wearily meets your gaze.

 Holding your gaze, you see the shift in his eyes, the breakdown as he succumbs to you. Nodding silently, he reluctantly agrees.

“Yeah, ok,” He says, slipping past you in the bathroom to take a seat on the toilet. “Come ‘ere.” He calls.

Moving to him, you settle between his knees. Glancing down into his deep blue eyes, you watch his throat bob heavily before his gaze drifts down to your exposed torso.

“I’m gonna be gentle, but I ain’t gonna lie, this’ll probably hurt.” He warns you as you blow out a shaky breath and nod.

“I’m gonna check you now.” He says quietly, giving you a heads up. 

You notice he likes to do that, warn you before he touches you. Almost as if he’s afraid of crossing some boundary, or doing it wrong.

You suck in a sharp breath as his hands find your skin and slowly press along your rib cage. 

The pain radiates through your whole body, making your stomach clench and your legs feel weak on your feet, but you grind your teeth and try to hold still. 

Mo presses a particularly tender spot and a sharp gasp rips from your lips as your whole body starts shaking against the pain. 

Feeling like your legs might give out, you grab the back of his head. Stabilizing yourself as you tangle your fingers in his hair hoping for a distraction.

 “Shhh, it’s ok. You’re alright.” Mo tries to comfort you on a low gravel breath. 

You focus on your breathing, in and out. Focus on the feel of his short hair running through your fingers, the ends pricking at your fingertips. 

You try not to think about the pain making your legs tremble. The pain shooting through you like a hot iron rod when Mo’s fingers press down in certain place. Grinding your teeth down against the pain.

He lets out a long breath after a minute or two. 

“I ain’t no doctor.” He tells you as if that’s a fact you both weren’t already fully aware of, but somehow you get the sense he’s got an idea about these things from while in lock up.

 “But I don’t think anything’s broken. Bruised good though. Can’t tell if you got any bleeding in there.” He answers honestly, giving you his best guess. 

As his hands finally stop and he gently pulls down your shirt, you let out a deep heavy sigh, your body feeling weak from the pain, as you lean down, resting your forehead against the top of his head, taking long deep breaths. 

Hot tears slip from your eyes as your ragged breath calls for him. “Mo…”

It’s been so long since someone’s been kind in the face of your pain, it’s almost more than you can take.

“Is’ ok. I gotcha ya… You did good.” He tells you as his hands settle on your hips, but not like any man has ever grabbed them before. His palms hold you steady mostly, but his fingers only lightly curve around you. 

You can tell he’s trying to help stabilize you while trying to touch you there as little as possible too, but your grateful for the help.

 Clinging to the back of his neck as your head rests on his, you take slow deep breathes, trying to bring the pain down. 

Letting him comfort you as you try to gather your strength, before letting him go. 

Grabbing the edge of the countertop, you move slowly to the sink and finally look at your face in the mirror. 

You had caught sight of it before, but the pain in your ribs was the worst, so that’s where your focus was. 

Now it was time to face the rest of the damage. Looking up into the mirror, you almost start crying right then.

 The outer socket of your left eye is already a deep purple, making your eye droop at the edge. Just below, there’s a slice on your cheekbone where the blood has already dried, but the lump underneath is still forming and darkening. 

The side of your lip is also swollen red and split open. There’s another cut and bruise along your jawline where he first struck you, caught you by surprise with that one, took you to the ground.

Mo comes to stand behind you, resting his weight against the door with his arms crossed against his chest as he watches you carefully.

 Turning on the cold water, you run your fingers over each mark gently, trying to remove any lingering blood. Your throat tightens as you fight back the tears that want to form. 

You remember each strike, each blow. Billy caught you by surprise at first, though you know you should have seen it coming, because he was pissed by the time you made it home, accusations flying as you barely put your purse down. 

Once you hit the ground from the first blow, he pinned you. Before fist after fist came at you in quick succession. Leaving you stunned and disoriented as he hollered obscenities in your face like you were worthless. 

You tried to fight back. Tried to get him off you, but he yanked your head back by your hair and tossed you back down hard before he began kicking you over and over again.

 “Her daddy do that to you?” Mo’s gritty voice rattles out, grabbing your attention, ripping you from your thoughts.

You glance at him through the mirror, blowing out a shaky breath. 

“I got him good too though.” You say, needing him to know you aren’t as pathetic as you feel right now.

Mo’s brows arch dramatically as he nods slowly before staring back at you in the mirror. 

“He ever touch Ella?” Mo asks you a fully loaded question.

 His words hit you hard, getting right under your ribs and you spin around to face him with fire in your eyes.

“No and I’d never let that happen.” You answer adamantly. That was the one thing you’d never stand for and the line Billy had never crossed.  

“An’ that makes this alright?” Mo asks with an arched brow and a hint of skepticism in his eyes.

His response rattles you as tears well in your eyes and finally start to fall. You shake your head slowly from side to side. Unable to hold it all in anymore.

 “Nothings alright. I never thought I’d be here. Never wanted this for my daughter. Never wanted her to have a daddy like this. Things weren’t supposed to be this way.” You try to explain something that’s beyond explanation as the tears slide down you face. 

This nightmare took time to unravel. A hell you didn’t realize you’d fallen into until it felt too late. And once you were down there, you didn’t know how to get out. 

Being her dad, it wasn’t as easy as just walking away. He always threatened to take her if you did and you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving your baby alone with that monster. 

He may never have physically harmed her, but that didn’t mean you trusted him either. 

Billy kept you isolated as much as he could. It had taken you years to save up what little money you did without him noticing and it wasn’t like anyone was offering to help you get away.

As your shoulders hunch under the weight of it all and a quiet sob rattles through you, you watch as Mo moves to you, wrapping you in his arms for the first time without asking. 

You melt against the soft strength of his chest and arms. You feel his hand tangle in your hair, the other around your back as he holds you steady as if holding you together. 

And in that moment, he feels like the only thing keeping you on your feet.

“It’s gonna be alright. You gonna be alight.” His thick gritty breath tickles your ear, soothing your broken heart.

 You stay in his arms, soaking up the feel of his comfort. Part of you wanting to rip out of his embrace, terrified, because it’s been so long since someone was genuinely soft with you, and another part of you never wanted to let go.

“Did you have enough or you going back?” Mo asks after your quiet sobs stop rattling off your chest against him and your tears begin to slow.

 Reluctantly, you pull back from his embrace and step out of his arms. Wiping the tears from your face, you look him dead in the eyes.

“I’m done.” And you mean it. 

You’ve been tired of this for a long time, but now you know the disgusting truth, Billy is going to kill you one of these days. Sooner or later he’ll take it one step too far and Ella really will be left alone with him. 

You can’t do that, can’t do this to your baby girl anymore. And looking at Mo, somehow you get the sense this is your chance. 

If he can escape his prison, maybe you can too.

 Mo seems satisfied by your answer though he never says so, instead he just nods his head silently.

“You got a plan? A place to go?” He asked.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you hesitantly shake your head from side to side.

“No, but I’ll figure somethin’ out.” You reply, the logistics still unclear. 

You can’t think of anyone off hand who’d be willing to help you, let you stay with them until you got on your feet, and you don’t have enough money to start a new life just yet, but your determined now. 

You’re not going back. Not this time.

 “You an’ Ella can stay as long as you need.” Mo offers almost instantly, bringing the spinning wheels in your head to a grinding halt as you stare at him in disbelief, shaking your head slowly.

“Mo, you’ve already done more than enough. You’re just getting your life together.  I don’t want to get you mixed up in all this. I mean if, Billy found us here…” You explain your concerns. 

Appreciating his offer, but feeling bad you pulled him so deep into this mess. Especially when things have the potential to get much more messy. This is the last thing he needs after just getting out of prison.

 Folding his arms against his chest, Mo gives you a look of determination and something you can’t quite read before he speaks. 

“You can stay. You’re safer here.”

You’re so lost on the look in his eyes, the look you can’t quite read, that you don’t realize he moved until you feel his knuckles faintly trace the bruises around your eye.

“He can’t hurt you an’ Ella here.” Mo’s words ripple through you as your eyes close against the tenderness of his touch. 

In a life full of lies and empty promises, you’ve never been more sure of anything someone’s said.

[sysk-ehess]

COSMOCIDES:  ART(S), VIOLENCE, 21ST CENTURY

Pré-programme (sous réserve de modification) Du mercredi 4 avril au lundi 18 juin. Guest Curators : Dominique Malaquais et Lionel Manga.

Face au silence, à la médiocrité et à la brutalité nous devons mettre sur pied quelque chose de suffisamment grand pour que les damnés l’échangent contre leur terrible mémoire de vaincus — quelque chose qui en même temps blanchisse les nantis de leur triste illusion de vainqueurs — car dans la guerre qui aujourd’hui oppose l’esprit, la raison et l’intelligence à la médiocratie, il n’y aura pas d’autre vainqueur que le cosmocide. (Sony Labou Tansi, Encre, sueur, salive et sang, Paris, Seuil, 2015, pp.113-114) En 1973, l’écrivain congolais Sony Labou Tansi invente un néologisme : « cosmocide ». Le mot se veut un réquisitoire contre les violences infligées aux corps, aux esprits, à la nature par un capitalisme sauvage, contre la colonisation et le néocolonialisme, les États sanguinaires, les juntes, les polices de tous bords, la mise en charpie des démocraties et du futur. Pour Sony, dire le cosmocide c’était le battre en brèche. Écrire revenait à poser une bombe, non dans le but de détruire, répondant au désastre par le désastre, mais de faire table rase, éradiquant la « mocheté » pour créer des espaces de respiration, des possibles. Nommer l’horreur dans l’espoir de faire naître son contraire : c’est de cela qu’il s’agissait et dont il s’agira ici. Nous serons guidé.e.s par des créateur.trice.s qui, comme Sony, œuvrent à débusquer la violence pour la mettre à mal. Anthropocène, ou encore capitalocène ; éco- et urbicides ; apartheids ; mers et déserts, cimetières de réfugié.e.s ; coltan,  dioxine et autres perturbateurs – de communautés, de rêves, de systèmes endocriniens ; camps et geôles… Architectes et urbanistes, historien.ne.s, performeur.e.s, plasticien.ne.s, chorégraphes, tels sont les objets qu’elles et ils abordent. Multiples, leurs pratiques ont ceci en commun : un acte de respirer. Pré -programme : Mercredi 4 avril – AbdouMaliq Simone (105 Bd Raspail, amphi Furet) Mercredi 18 avril – Emeka Okereke (Kadist) Mercredi 2 mai – Beth Weinstein (Maison Suger) Mercredi 16 mai – Jelili Atiku (CND) Vendredi 1 juin – Faustin Linyekula (Maison Suger ou Cité Internationale des Arts) Mercredi 6 juin – Lamyne Mohamed (Maison Suger) Lundi 18 juin – Gabrielle Hecht (Maison Suger) COSMOCIDES:  ART(S), VIOLENCE, 21ST CENTURY In the face of silence, of mediocracy and brutality, we must set afoot something big enough that the wretched can trade it against the terrible memory of loss they bear – something that, at the same time, will wash the well-heeled of the sad conviction that they have won – for in the war that today opposes thought, reason and intelligence to the mediocratic world we inhabit, there will be but one victor:  cosmocide. (Sony Labou Tansi, Encre, sueur, salive et sang, Paris:  Seuil, 2015, pp.113-114) In 1973, Congolese writer Sony Labou Tansi invented a neologism : “cosmocide.” The term was intended as an onslaught. It aimed to take to task the violence inflicted by the savagery of capitalism on bodies, spirits and landscapes, to do battle against colonialism and neocolonialism, against blood-soaked states, juntas and police forces of all kinds, against the foreclosure of democracies and futures worldwide. The act of putting such violence into  words, for Sony was a means of beating it into retreat. To write was to set off a bomb, not so much to destroy, responding to disaster with further disaster, but to wipe the slate clean, doing away with “ugliness” to create spaces wherein one might breathe and imagine new possibilities. Naming horror in hopes of giving rise to its obverse:  such was his goal and so shall we attempt to do here. Our guides will be creators who, like Sony, seek to flush out – and in the process to do in – violence. Anthropocene or, yet again, capitalocene; eco- and urbicide; apartheid regimes; deserts and seas turned refugee graveyards; coltan, dioxin and other disruptors – of communities, dreams, endocrine systems; camps and jails… Architects and urbanists, historians, performers, visual artists, choreographers:  these are their foci. Highly diverse, their work and approaches share one, distinct characteristic:  all are exercises in breathing out of school. Dominique Malaquais, historienne d’art et politiste, interroge les intersections entre violences politiques, inégalités économiques et élaborations de cultures urbaines à l’ère du capitalocène. D’abord enseignante aux Etats-Unis (Columbia, Princeton, Sarah Lawrence), aujourd’hui chercheuse au CNRS (Institut des mondes africains), elle co-dirige avec Kadiatou Diallo la plateforme curatoriale expérimentale SPARCK (Space for Pan-African Research, Creation and Knowledge). Parmi ses projets récents et en cours : réflexions sur les échanges entre Afrique et Asie à travers les arts visuels, la littérature, l’urbanisme et la spiritualité (Afrique-Asie : arts, espaces, pratiques, co-dirigé avec Nicole Khouri et publié en 2016) ; Archive (re)mix : vues d’Afrique (2015, co-dirigé avec Maëline Le Lay et Nadine Siegert), recueil d’essais sur les trajectoires de plasticiens, d’écrivains, de musiciens qui, à travers leur travail, explorent les multiple facettes de la rencontre entre art(s) et archive(s) ; expositions (Dakar 66, Musée du quai Branly, 2016 et Kinshasa : chroniques urbaines, Cité de l’architecture et du patrimoine, 2019) ; Yif menga (2018-2019), recherche collective sur la performance comme proposition politique… Lionel Manga est l’auteur de L’Ivresse du papillon (2008), le premier essai paru sur la scène des arts plastiques au Cameroun. Après un passage éclair à la Sorbonne, une conspiration familiale l’exfiltre de France il y a de cela quarante ans. Tête pensante d’African Logik à Yaoundé (1996-1998), la scène rap et hip-hop locale lui doit sa visibilité. Sa chronique radiophonique Klorofil (1992-1996) lancera l’alerte sur la crise écologique globale. Observant le monde contemporain et scrutant l’Histoire à la croisée des bibliothèques, cet Altriciel inclassable a contribué au Tombeau pour Aimé Césaire paru en janvier 2017, sous la direction de Daniel Delas. Revendiquant et assumant son statut d’électron libre dans un contexte pétri d’allégeances, diverses revues ont accueilli sa prose ces dernières années, à l’instar de Mouvements, Riveneuve continents, Local contemporain et Chimurenga. Conférencier au musée du quai Branly pour le cinquantenaire des Indépendances, cet adepte de l’improbable et lecteur assidu de Michel Serres a ouvert la deuxième édition des Ateliers de la pensée, dirigés par Achille Mbembe et Felwine Sarr, à Dakar en novembre 2017.

De 19H à 21H, À LA MSH, 16 – 18 RUE SUGER, 75006 (métro Odéon ou Saint – Michel) La salle n’est pas ouverte avant 18h50. Et dans d’autres lieux de la région parisienne Pour respecter les mesures de sécurité durant l’état d’urgence, il est nécessaire de s’inscrire préalablement : somethingyoushouldknow-request@ehess.fr . For security measures, please register at this address if you wish to attend this event :somethingyoushouldknow-request@ehess.fr No access without registration. Le séminaire "Something you should know: Artistes et producteurs" est soutenu par la Fundación Almine y Bernard Ruiz-Picasso para el Arte ( http://www.fabarte.org ) Pour voir les anciens séminaires : http://www.vimeo.com/sysk/ Programmation passée et prochains rendez-vous: http://sysk-ehess.tumblr.com/ Et par abonnement à la newsletter  somethingyoushouldknow-request@ehess.fr

[prettieparker86]

Degrees of Freedom

Pairing: Mohamed “Mo” Lundy x Reader

Part 2

Gif Credit: @maurawrites​, she makes amazing gifs! Thank you for letting me use these gifs.

A/N: I could never find any stories for this character and honestly, it’s one of my favorites. And you know me, if I can’t find what I’m looking for, I try to create it. So here it is. It follows a similar concept as the movie. I really liked the movie concept, but it doesn’t follow the movie exactly. Also I like to add kids with Boyd apparently. I always imagine he’s great with them. I don’t know... You’ll have to take that one up with my ovaries lol.

Any questions, just ask. And hey, if you like it, let a girl know :) Gracias!

You follow the paved road, gravel lining the sides, grass growing wild just beyond that. Your eyes flick to the GPS on your phone as it guides you before your gaze returns to the road.

“Are we there yet?” Your daughter calls from the backseat, swinging her doll around by the hair as she searches for your gaze in the rearview mirror. 

At four, a two-hour drive can feel like forever, but she’s been really good about it. Kind and gentle at heart, your baby girl has never been one to give you much trouble. She’s the light in your otherwise often dark life.

 “Almost there, baby,” You answer back as you spot your destination just up the road.

 An unobtrusive looking building, surrounded by a chain-link fence, tucked back along the trees and overgrowth. A sign by the road reading, Second Hope Animal Shelter. 

Slowing down the car, you pull onto the dirt road, passing the open gate, you move into the lot. You drive until you see an opening and other vehicles before pulling yours to a stop.

“We’re here, baby.” You tell your little girl, spotting the big smile that covers her face through the rearview mirror.

 “I want a doggie, mommy.” She tells you for the twentieth time since you told her where you guys were going today.

“Now remember, we’re only here to look at them, ok?” You remind her, trying to avoid a situation where your daughter insistently asks you for a dog for the rest of the day. 

While also trying to keep the details as why you took this two hour long drive scarce. 

Ella’s smart, too smart for her own good sometimes and the last thing either of you need is her accidentally slipping word to her daddy where you all were this afternoon.

You knew it was risky coming out here, if Billy found out there would be a hell to pay, but after catching Martin’s story on the local news, you knew you couldn’t stay away.

Climbing out of your car, you go around to get your daughter. She has her buckle off her booster seat and is ready to go before you even open the door. 

Flashing you a quick smile of excitement, she hops out of the car, her curly locks jumping as she goes.

 Taking her hand, you walk up to the wide opening. A woman seated at a desk spots you coming and rises to greet you, leaving behind the pen and paperwork she was working on. 

You notice she has gentle eyes that set you ease instantly as she approaches. 

“Can I help you?” She asks.

Finally there, your heart starts to beat a little faster and you become accurately aware of the humidity thick in the air.

“Yeah… I was hoping Martin might be here… Martin Lundy.” You ease out, keeping your breath as even as you can despite the continued thumping of your heart.

Her softness changes, not disappearing, but shifts ever so slightly with your answer. Her eyes scan over you and your little girl before she meets your gaze again.

“Whatcha want with, Mo?” She inquires, her tone even, but cautious. You can tell she wants to make sure you’re not here to cause trouble.

“I’m an old friend,” You answer, forcing a smile, hoping she can’t see how nervous you really are.

 Giving you and your little girl one more quick once over, she turns toward the swinging doors.

“Mo, you got visitors!” She calls, her voice carrying. She gives a polite smile and a quick nod before moving back to her desk, but her eyes never leave you all.

Giving your little girl’s hand a quick squeeze, you send a reassuring smile down at her as she gazes up at you. 

The sight of your baby girl easing your nerves a bit as your gaze lifts back up to the swinging doors in anticipation. 

It’s been five long years since you last saw him. You don’t have to wait long before he comes through those doors.

 The sight of him makes your heart starts to hammer hard in your chest, your palms growing sweaty. 

He’s in work boots and dirty tan coveralls, rolled up at the sleeves, unbuttoned at the top. 

Your eyes find his face, he looks older, but you can still find traces of the boy you grew up with. A short beard lines his jaw, mustache over his lip. His brown hair is short and choppy, but his eyes… 

His eyes you’d know anywhere. Same gentle, beautiful blue eyes you had loved since you were just a kid. Eyes you thought he lost behind bars, and seeing their beauty again nearly takes your breath.

The look in his eyes tells you he’s surprised to see you. You’re probably the last person he thought would come. He seems a little nervous maybe as he takes the sight of you in.

“Hey stranger,” You breath out with a welcoming grin.

“Hey” He answers back, his voice deep and gritty like listening to the blues on the radio.

A shuttered breath slips past your lips and you can’t hold back the feelings bursting in your chest any longer as you let go of your baby girl’s hand and step to him. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, clutching him tight. Your arms trembling as you bury your face against his neck, breathing him in, hardly able to believe he’s really there.

You feel him stiffen beneath you and you worry you’ve over stepped your bounds and made him uncomfortable until you feel his arms slowly, cautiously wrap around you. His hold feels light as if he’s unsure this is ok. As if he’s unsure how to touch you now.

Tears fill your eyes as a ragged breath escapes your throat, vibrating against his skin before you feel his arms grip you tighter. Fifteen fucking years they stole from him. Fifteen years he spent rotting away.

You still remember the first time you went to see him after turning eighteen. His mama and sister had already cut off contact, moved away. Your mama told you not to go. Everyone had given up on him, but not you. 

You knew in your heart what kind of person he was. You never believed what they said he did. All those years you had written to him when you could. Waitin till the day you were old enough to visit. 

He’d never been one for trouble before. Always keeping to himself, he had been close to you through his sister, and you couldn’t bare to give up on him like everyone else.

 Seated across from Martin at a cold metal table. Covered in prison blues, you had seen death in his eyes, but not the ones they put him away for. No this was the death of him, of his innocence. 

He looked harder than you could have ever imagined seeing him. Something lethal in his stare. 

You had been a little afraid when he first came out and sat with you. He was big and strong, and ominous as all hell. 

The visit had been tense at first. You almost regretted coming, but as he leaned over to you, staring deep into your eyes, you knew Martin was still somewhere in there. 

That boy who use to spend the night at your house with his sister so he didn’t have to go home and you’d talk all night till the sun came up.

 “I didn’t do it.” You remember him saying. His eyes imploring you, begging you to believe him. “I didn’t kill those little girls. I didn’t even know-“

“I know,” You cut him off, reassuring him quick. Not an ounce of doubt on your breath as you snatched up his hand from where it rested on the table. “I know.”

Squeezing his hand, you remember thinking how rough his palm had become as your thumb dragged across it.

 You remember seeing a guard staring at you both, his gaze hard, stepping off the wall toward you as if he saw something he didn’t like before Martin swiftly pulled his hand back and the guard relaxed. 

You couldn’t help but feel as Martin pulled away… This place was soul crushing.

You visited him when you could, which wasn’t as often as you’d have liked, but once you met Ella’s dad, he demanded you stop seeing another man, and your hands were tied, but you never forgot about him.

 You let yourself get lost in Martin’s arms for a second longer before you release him and pull back. 

Wiping the tears that had stubbornly fallen, you smile up at him and take your daughter’s hand once again.

“God it’s good to see you. You look good, Martin.” You say almost breathless, hardly able to believe he’s standing before you, a fee man.

 “It’s Mohamed now… or Mo.” He explained, a nervousness still lingering on him. You can feel it. You figure it’s to be expected after all the time he spent away.

You nod with understanding. 

“Well how are you doing, Mo? When I saw you on the news I knew I had to come see you.” You explain, your eyes glued on him as a smile stretches wide on your face. 

God it was good to see him again. Just having him close filled your heart with an easy sort of joy.

 Mo nodded slowly. “I’m alright,” He answered, his gaze diverting from you. 

You can feel he’s holding back, you can feel he’s unsure, but you get the sense it’s not about you, but more all of this and everything that comes with it. He’s been away for a long time.

“Mommy, I want to see the doggies,” Ella speaks up impatiently, tugging on your hand.

You watch Mo’s eyes glance down at your little girl as if really noticing her for the first time before returning to meet your gaze. Something you can’t quite read hangs in his eyes, but you think he’s surprised to see you’re a mom.

 “Ella this is Mo. Mo this my daughter Ella.” You explain, finally giving a proper introduction as you smile down at your baby girl. Letting her know you heard her. 

“Hi Mo,” Her high little voice calls.

You glance over at Mo as he squats down low to the ground in front of your little girl.

“Hi Miss Ella, you like dogs?” He asks, speaking right to her, meeting her on her level.

You watch your little girl’s face light up. “I love doggies and kitties and horsies, and dolphins and-“

She continues as Mo lets out a deep chuckle, the sound of it reaching deep inside you.

 “You wanna go see some dogs?” He asks her, giving her the first real smile you’ve gotten out of him. A smile Ella doesn’t know makes her mom weak in the knees.

“I want to take one home.” She nods eagerly.

“Ella Mae we talked about this. Daddy would not be happy if we brought a dog home.” You remind her.

You spot Mo’s eyes glancing up at you briefly with the mention of her dad, before his gaze returns to Ella.

“How about we just go say hi?” He suggests.

 “Ok,” She nods, moving toward the swinging doors before Mo can even rise to his feet, trying to drag you with her.

“I guess she’s gonna lead,” You laugh, flashing him a smile as he extends his arm out to hold the swinging door as you slip past him.

Mo shows you and your little girl a few cages where Ella happily introduces herself to the dogs inside. 

Your baby girl has always loved animals and they seem to share in the love affair. You’ve always felt they sense her gentle spirit.

Next Mo takes you both to a cage with an especially sweet looking dog. Mostly all black with patches of all different colors on its coat and the sweetest eyes that instantly make you feel safe with it around Ella.

 Calling the dog over, Mo leans down to pet it through the fence as Ella follows his lead. Little bursts of laughter rip from her lips and echo through the kennel as the dog licks at her hand. 

Your eyes catch Mo’s as his smiling face flashes up to you with the sound of your little girl’s giggles. There’s still so much light in his eyes, it makes your heart beat a little faster.

 And god, if he isn’t handsome.  Still built solid and strong like you remember from visiting him in prison, unlike the skinny teenager who went inside, but he’s got none of the bite that use to emanate off him when you’d visit. No more anger. 

As the older brother of your childhood best friend, he was the first boy you ever had a crush on and looking at him now, you’re afraid to admit, much hasn’t changed for you. 

His looks have grown into something rough but sexy without trying while still holding such depth in his eyes.

 “I’m so glad they got you out.” You tell him before his eyes drop from yours.

Standing to his full height, Mo doesn’t meet your gaze, you noticed he seems to struggle with that, as he slowly nods. 

“Yeah, me too… I guess.” He admits honestly on a rich gritty breath, his gaze back on the sweet dog making your baby girl laugh.

You catch a look in his eye and you think that maybe you understand. You get use to a place after so long, get use to living a certain way, you miss it, even if it was poison.

You reach for his hand at his side, lacing yours together. Drawing his eyes back to you. “Just takes time.”

 Letting out a long breath, Mo nods, giving your hand a quick squeeze before letting go. The air between you grows quiet.  

You want to tell him you still have all the letters he wrote you hidden somewhere only you know. That you still read them during your darkest hours. 

Holding onto the connection he gave you. Holding onto the way he could make you feel. 

Somewhere deep inside of you, you had known you didn’t just come here to see if he was alright. You needed to see him. 

From the moment you caught that news report that he had been exonerated and released a few towns over, you knew you had to go. 

You had moved on years ago, your life kept going after he was sent away, but standing beside him now, you realized some things never change.

 “I’m so sorry I stopped coming to visit. Stopped writing. After I got with Billy and got pregnant, He just- he wasn’t having it. But I never stopped thinking of you, I never stopped caring.” You confess on a heavy burdened breath as tears you can’t hold back well up into your eyes. A few slipping down before you can stop them. 

You’d always felt so guilty about him. Everyone had given up on him and the thought that he would think you had done the same broke your heart.

 Glancing back at you, a deep softness fills Mo’s eyes with the sight of your tears. 

You watch as he reaches out toward your face, but stops before he ever touches you. You can see in his eyes, his heart’s conflicted.

“It’s ok to touch me.” You tell him, giving him a reassuring smile as you wipe away your tears.

Mo holds your gaze as you speak before quickly dropping his eyes and hand.

“I don’t know if your husband would think so.” He explains.

There’s that side of him again, a side you don’t recognize. A side you wonder has something to do with why he changed his name. A different man with a different set of values.

 Your smile cracks wider as a small laugh escapes you. 

“That’ll be the day… I’m not married, Mo. Billy’s not exactly what you call the marrying type, kid or not.”

Billy made it clear to you when you got pregnant he’d stand by you, but he wasn’t going to be tied down. He also wasn’t exactly who you planned to get saddled with either, but then again, you weren’t planning to get pregnant. 

Everyone pressured you to make it work for the baby. So you did. Your relationship was complicated, messy to say the least, but Ella meant everything to you, so you tried to make it work.

 Mo’s eyes glance up at you briefly and you swear you see surprise before his eyes drift over to the kennel.

“Then he’s a fool.” You hear him say low on his breath, more to himself than even you.

Your heart starts to beat faster with Mo’s admission. Wondering what he means by that. Wondering how he feels about you after all these years. 

But then a buzzing in your back pocket catches your attention and steals the moment. You fish your phone out and see you’ve got a message. Speak of the devil, It’s Billy. Quickly swiping the screen, the text appears.

-WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU

Your heart instantly starts to pound, you throat tightens as you glance up quick to make sure Mo didn’t see it. 

Seeing his attention is back on Ella and the dog, you close the message and shove the phone back in your pocket.

An urgency sweeps through your veins. 

“We gotta go baby,” You tell Ella, reaching for her hand.

“No, not yet mommy.” Ella begs, but as you shoot her a glance she knows means business the little girl quiets down with a pout on her lips.

 Your mind scrambles, you gotta go, you gotta get back. Trying to figure out what excuse you can give Billy. 

He’d be furious if he knew you came out here, especially with Ella. And the last place you want to be is on Billy’s bad side, but he wasn’t supposed to be home yet and you’re still two hours away.

Sucking in a deep breath to compose yourself, you pick up your little girl as Mo leads you back out to the front.

Moving through the swinging doors, Mo stops and turns to you. 

His eyes searching yours in a way you worry means he senses your anxiety. You pray he doesn’t, but he always was good at picking up on things.

 “Can we come see you again some time?” You ask, before he can ask you something you can’t answer. 

Forcing a smile, you hope he can’t see the fear building inside you. 

He isn’t the only one who’s had to live under lock and key. You’ve had to learn the hard way prisons come in many shapes and sizes.

“Yeah,” Mo nods easy. 

Reaching over to the desk where the lady you assume is his boss is still seated at, he scribbles something down before handing it to you.

“Here’s my address and phone number. Your welcome anytime.” He tells you, gazing at you in a way that makes you wonder if even after all this time he can still read you like a book.

 Leaning over, you wrap him in a brief side hug. Placing a quick kiss on his cheek, the hairs tickling your lips. 

As you pull away, your eyes meet and lock. His piercing blue eyes sucking you in and for a brief moment you wish you could just stay. 

You feel his gaze reaching into you, somewhere deep within you, the way he could even when you were just kids. 

But you’ve both made your bed in this life, ain’t nothing to do but lie down in it.

Mo flashes Ella a quick smile and a goodbye as you go, your heart racing. 

Climbing into your car, you move quick. Mind scrambling as you reach for your phone.

Nona called- needed me to run a few errands for her. Didn’t want to disturb you at work. I’ll be home as soon as I can.

You send back to Billy, blowing out a shaky breath, you pray there won’t be hell to pay when you get home.

[prettieparker86]

So despite currently working Part 2 of Deliverance (Donald x Reader), and the last two parts of All For You (Cap x Reader), I have been overtaken with inspiration for an imagine from The Free World about Mohamed X Reader. I follows closely with the concept of the movie. 

I’ve never found anything out there for this character. So apparently in my world that means, Damnit I got to create it. So hopefully it’s not shit. But either way, it’s coming. If your interested, let me know and I can tag you.

STORY HERE